First Strike - An Earth@War Novel

ESS Argentina (D-868)

1240 AMU from Omar

June 6, 2487, 1130 UT

Yeoman First Class Andrew Wilson sat alone in the Administrative Office having excused the other Yeoman to lunch. His stomach was knotted as he checked with the Quartermaster of the Watch on the ship’s position. They were still so far from Omar. Andrew was anxious, ready to start killing his enemy. He got up from the desk and started pacing.

On the bridge, Ensign Singleton was the Officer of the Deck as Task Force One raced toward Omar. The tension in the air was heavy. The crew knew that Omar IV was under attack and they were hoping that the ship would arrive in time to save the planet. Despite the tension, the watch on the bridge, so far, was uneventful.

Throughout the morning, the ship was engaged in routine work. Maintenance was being done on machinery, cleaning tasks performed, and most recently, the crew had begun to eat lunch.

Suddenly, the Sensor Technician Third Class looked up from the sensor display. “Missiles inbound, port side!” she shouted.

“Sound General Quarters!” Al ordered as he moved to the sensor display. Four missiles were inbound from a distance of 20 AMU. The Boatswain Mate of the Watch called General Quarters over the intercom as Al calculated the trajectory of the missiles. They were headed for Newton.

Andrew’s heart raced when he heard the call to General Quarters. Finally, he thought as he made his way to Mount 54. A single person operated the 75-mm gun mount. Unlike the BA-75, there was no loader, since the gun was charged by the ship’s power supply with its own emergency backup supply. Andrew grabbed the headset that connected him to the Combat Information Center (CIC) which would assist him in tracking the enemy.

Back on the bridge, Al went to the comm unit and selected the Weapons Officer. “Fire missiles one through four on a return trajectory,” Al ordered. Argentina had all missile launches loaded with M-7 missiles.

“Aye, sir,” the Weapons Officer replied.

“Come right to 218 by 060, decrease speed to 28,” Al ordered as the Captain arrived on the bridge and moved beside him, silently studying the sensor data. He was pleased to see how the young Ensign was handling the situation.

“Missiles one through four away,” the Weapons Officer reported over the comm.

“Very well. Reload launchers one through four with M-7s,” Al replied. He watched the sensor data as he moved the ship between the inbound missiles and Newton. The destroyer’s primary mission was to protect the capital ships: the carrier, battleship and cruiser. As the ship settled into position, Al ordered, “Come left to 218 by 048, increase speed to 30,” resuming the base course and speed of the task force.

“Nicely done, Ensign,” the Captain whispered as the ship settled into position.

Al watched the missiles closing in on the ship on the sensor display. “Launch decoys…now…now…now…now,” Al ordered releasing four decoys in an attempt to fool the missiles. The four missiles locked onto a pair of decoys and exploded off Argentina’s port side. The ship shook violently from the shock waves generated by the explosions.

“Damage report,” Captain McCollum asked after selecting Damage Control Central on the comm unit.

“Damage Control teams are checking now, sir,” the Damage Control Assistant replied.

Al continued to track the outbound missiles. Looking out of the bridge window, the explosion of the first missile briefly revealed a stealth ship, which then exploded as two additional missiles struck it. The bridge crew cheered at the sight and Captain McCollum slapped Al on the back and joined in, cheering loudly.

Down below decks, John Bennett was in his pressurized suit, searching an area on the fourth deck, looking for any damage caused by the violent shaking of the ship from the nearby explosions. Even though the ship wasn’t hit, the shock wave could cause short circuits which could start a fire or even separate hull plates which could cause air to be vented into space. John found nothing and passed that information on to Repair Two, which once all the crewmembers checking for damage in Repair Two’s area reported in, passed that information on to Damage Control Central.

The bridge crew had just settled down from celebrating the destruction of the enemy’s ship when the Damage Control Assistant reported, “No apparent damage, sir,” to Captain McCollum over the comm unit.

“Very well,” the Captain replied. He turned to Al. “Well done, Ensign. Move the ship back to our patrol position and secure from General Quarters.”

“Aye, sir,” Al replied, the reality of what just happened hitting him. He had just destroyed an enemy ship, the first officer on the ship to be able to make that claim.

Perhaps the only person disappointed by the quick outcome was Andrew Wilson, who powered down his gun, angry that he had not had his chance to kill the Batronians.

Third Regiment/First Battalion/Company C/First Platoon

Five Miles West of Zelerod, Omar IV

June 6, 2487, 1515 Local, 1215 UT

The withdrawal of Batronian troops gave First Platoon the opportunity to repair and reinforce their positions. Over the last three hours foxholes had been dug again and more sandbags were brought in to provide additional protection for the troops. A few small fires were started allowing the troops to heat up some food.

Dave and Phil alternated watch. One would be able to relax and eat while the other one watched for enemy movement. Sergeant Pachenko checked on the men periodically. He brought them charge packs for their L-29s, energy bars and even at one point, coffee. He encouraged his men, boosting morale. “You kicked their Batronian asses right back down the road,” he boldly proclaimed. At 1515, the bolts started falling from the sky onto Company C’s position.

“Bombardment!” Dave heard someone shout as 400-mm bolts began pouring down on them. Dirt and debris filled the air as tress caught fire and crashed to the ground. The roar of the impacts of the bolts was overwhelming. A bolt hit close to Dave and Phil’s foxhole raining debris down on the two men who had their hands over their heads as they laid face down in their foxhole.

Armored Vehicle

Five Miles West of Zelerod, Omar IV

June 6, 2487, 1516 Local, 1216 UT

Colonel Nelson saw the bolts raining down on the troops. He silently prayed for their safety. As he watched, the bolts began working their way up toward his position

“Everybody out! Take cover!” he ordered the crew in his command vehicle. He ensured that every trooper got out of the vehicle and then led them to the ditch that ran alongside the road. “Get your heads down!” he yelled over the thunder of the falling bolts.

Like Dave and Phil, dirt and other debris quickly covered the men laying in the ditch. Colonel Nelson peeked out of the ditch and watched as his armored vehicle took a direct hit from a bolt. Pieces of the vehicle flew like shrapnel, killing four of the men in the ditch.

AWC-2

In Air, Seven Miles West of Zelerod, Omar IV

June, 2487, 1518 Local, 1218 UT

The pilot and copilot watched in silent horror as the 400-mm bolts rained down on the Third Regiment. The pilot banked the spacecraft trying to move away from the enemy fire.

“Sir, thirty enemy spacecraft inbound!” a Sensor Technician reported

The pilot pulled out of the turn and reduced the throttle slightly.

“Sir, I need you to turn to 215 to allow the sensors to identify the types of spacecraft,” the Sensor Technician requested.

“Very…” the pilot began just before a bolt tore off the right wing of the AWC-2. The spacecraft tipped to the right and began to spin as the nose dropped and pointed to the ground.

“Mayday…mayday!” a Communications Technician shouted into the comm unit as wind screamed through holes in the crat. It rolled over one final time before it plunged into the ground.

Command Center

Naval Base Quebec, Omar IV

June 6, 2487, 1519 Local, 1219 UT

“Eagle Eyes had reported there were thirty enemy spacecraft inbound before we lost comms with them,” one of the Communications Technicians reported.

“Very well,” Captain Harrington replied looking over to the Commander of the Thirteenth Fighter Wing.

“I’ll launch what we have available,” the Commander said.

“Ma’am, escorts report that Eagle Eyes is down,” another Communications Technician reported.

“Acknowledge it,” Amber said with a heavy heart. Even though they were doing damage to the enemy, the casualties were mounting which bothered the 42-year-old mother of two.

“Ma’am, we have launched 18 fighters heading toward Third Regiment,” the Commander of the Thirteenth Fighter Wing reported.

“Very well,” Amber replied. Eighteen fighters against thirty enemy craft was a reminder of how bad the situation was.

Third Regiment/First Battalion/Company C/First Platoon

Five Miles West of Zelerod, Omar IV

June 6, 2487, 1520 Local, 1220 UT

Debris continued to pour down on Dave as he laid in his foxhole. The noise was deafening. He could feel rocks and debris hitting his helmet as he tried to protect his head. Phil was beside him, similarly positioned. Suddenly, the laser fire ended. Dave raised his head and could hear the roar of incoming spacecraft.

“Incoming!” someone yelled as Dave looked up and saw bombs dropping from the enemy craft. At the same time, he saw SF-121s firing at the enemy. Explosions again rocked the area. A hot, searing pain caused Dave to instinctively pull his hand to his chest. Dave looked at the blood flowing from his hand.

“Shit! I’m hit!” Dave yelled as he began to panic.

“Let me see,” Phil said crawling over to Dave. Bombs continued to explode. The sky darkened from smoke and debris forcing Phil to pull a penlight out to check Dave’s hand. Phil was relieved to see that while, Dave had a cut on the back of his hand, he still had all his fingers and could move them. “Relax,” Phil told his friend, “it’s just a cut.” As the bombs continued to fall, Phil bandaged Dave’s hand. By the time Phil had finished, the bombing had ended. Unfortunately, the battleship or battleships opened up again.

Naval Space Center

Naval Base Quebec, Omar IV

June 6, 2487, 1528 Local, 1228 UT

The Fifteenth Attack Wing was down to just 21 functioning SA-18s. The situation required sending all 21 craft along with ten SF-121s to escort them. The spacecraft pulled up to a 70-degree angle and quickly climbed into orbit. The pilots located the two battleships that were bombarding the Third Regiment. The SA-18s fired dozens of AM-4 missiles at them. Decoys fooled many of them, but several found their targets, striking each ship a half of a dozen times, not enough to destroy the monsters, but enough to get them to cease fire and engage the SA-18s. As the SA-18s attacked, several of the pilots noticed a third battleship near Omar VII, obviously waiting for any ships to try to enter the system.

Model Four Batronian Fighters joined the fight, swarming around the SA-18s and defending the battleships. But, having accomplished their mission, the SA-18s with their fighter escorts, dropped back into Omar IV’s atmosphere, but not before the Batronians had destroyed four more SA-18s and three SF-112s.

Third Regiment/First Battalion/Company C/First Platoon

Five Miles West of Zelerod, Omar IV

June 6, 2487, 1535 Local, 1235 UT

The bombardment ended and the screams began. Dave and Phil moved from the foxhole and made their way to a screaming man. Downed trees, smoke and piles of debris made the trek difficult. The trees that had provided cover were now obstacles to overcome.

Dave and Phil found the screaming man lying in a foxhole with a bad wound to his head and his hand a bloody mess from a piece of shrapnel. Two other men laid nearby, clearly dead.

“Get a medic,” Phil told Dave as he tore the man’s shirt. He applied a tourniquet to the man’s lower arm using a branch from one of the fallen trees to tighten the knot. He used another piece of the man’s shirt to put pressure on the trooper’s head wound. The wounded man reached for is L-29 and tried to rise.

“Stay down,’ Phil urged him. In the distance, Phil could hear small arms fire, but for now, First Platoon’s position appeared secure.

Several minutes later, Dave showed up with a medic who relieved Phil. The cost of the bombardment was heavy for First Platoon. Four men and a woman were killed and three wounded, two of which had to be evacuated.

Headquarters Destroyer Squadron Ten

Naval Base Oscar, Kylar II

June 6, 2487, 0810 Local, 1430 UT

Admiral William P. Morris studied the reports he was getting from Omar IV. While the planet consisted of a single continent slightly larger than the size of Asia, almost the entire population lived in the northeastern one-eighth of the continent and now the western half of that area, with the exception of the city of Tylan, was under the control of the Batronians. To make matters worse, the Batronians had more ships, spacecraft and ground troops there than Earth had. Even counting Task Force One, which was still over 1000 AMU from Omar, Earth’s forces were vastly outnumbered.

The Admiral puffed on his cigar. It could be worse, he thought. We could have computers running everything like at Masic Point. When war broke out on Masic Point, computers controlled ships and flew spacecraft. It wasn’t long before those systems were hacked and Earth’s own weapons were used against her. The Navy adapted quickly, removing computer controls from all warships and spacecraft. Now computers were tools to help targeting, processing data from sensors and assisting in navigation. People controlled the ships and spacecraft, not computers. But, the Admiral thought as he put out his cigar, unfortunately people die.

Home of Tony Fillmore

Village of Lansing, Omar IV

June 6, 2487, 1930 Local, 1630 UT

It was growing dark outside and the curtains were closed in the small two-bedroom farmhouse that Tony and Amy Fillmore lived in. Tony, who nearly everyone called “T”, raised corn, beans and tomatoes on the nearly two-hundred-acre farm located on the north side of the village. Since the invasion, Tony and his wife had remained indoors watching the news stream on the wall display. A knock on the door surprised both of them. Tony looked at Amy and raised an eyebrow. Amy shook her head, shrugging her shoulders at the same time silently telling her husband that she didn’t know who would be at the door. Tony got up and signaled for his wife to remain out of sight.

At 400 pounds, Tony waddled, more than walked to the door. Tony didn’t have a weapon and had never wanted one until now. The invasion by Batron had rattled both him and his wife. They had been born and raised on Omar IV and was used to the simple life that the planet provided. The person on the other side of the door knocked again. Tony took a deep breath, opened the door and saw Jack Mitchell.

“’T’, let me come in,” Jack said. Tony stepped aside and closed the door once Jack was in.

“Where have you been?” Tony asked. Despite being twelve years Jack’s junior and physically being so different, Jack and Tony were the best of friends.

“Checking out the Batronians,” Jack said glancing over at the news stream. “What are they saying?”

“The feed out of Malyn shows a Batronian officer telling everyone that Omar is now under Batronian control and it will mean a better life for all of us. He said we should continue to work and go about our lives during the transition. But the feed out of Zelerod says that the Navy is still fighting the Batronians and that the Batronians aren’t in control. I don’t know what to believe. I know they have control of the village.”

“The Navy is still fighting, but I don’t think they can hold out. One day, we may have to be the ones to take action,” the former Master Chief said.

“But, I don’t have any weapons and I wouldn’t know how to use one if I did. Hell, look at me. Do I look like a soldier?” the 400-pound man asked.

“Not every action has to be a fight. Sometimes, there are better ways to help,” Jack said as Amy brought the men some beers.

Third Regiment/First Battalion/Company C/First Platoon

Five Miles West of Zelerod, Omar IV

June 6, 2487, 1943 Local, 1643 UT

The temperature dropped quickly after nightfall and soon Phil and Dave were drinking coffee for warmth. The two men remained alert despite the lack of activity since the last bombardment ended over four hours ago. Though the adrenaline high was gone, fear of another attack kept the men awake and alert. Sergeant Pachenko approached Dave and Phil.

“Here’s the deal. We’re going to remain here tonight, but we can’t risk lighting fires, so use your bags to stay warm. One sleeps, the other watches. This is no joke. Make sure one of you is awake at all times.”

“Yes, Sergeant,” both men replied.

“How’s the shoulder?” Phil asked the Sergeant.

“Hurts like hell, but thank you for treating it,” the Sergeant said.

“You’re welcome,” Phil replied.

“Early tomorrow, we are going to move out. I’ll tell you an hour before we move.”

“Where are we moving to?” Phil asked.

“I have no idea, but you’ll have an hour to get your gear packed and be ready to move,” Sergeant Pachenko replied.

“Aye, Sergeant,” the men replied.

“How many troopers do we have left?” Phil asked.

“Sixteen,” the Sergeant said solemnly, “including me. Three of those are wounded.” Phil quickly realized that First Platoon had lost a third of their troopers.

“Four wounded. Don’t forget yourself,” Phil told Pachenko.

“Yeah. Keep a sharp lookout,” the Sergeant ordered and then moved out.

“You can sleep first. I’m too wound up,” Dave said.

“I can’t sleep yet either,” Phil replied. “When one of us gets tired, we’ll start rotating.” Thirty minutes later, the two men would be glad they decided to wait for sleep.

Armored Vehicle

Five Miles West of Zelerod, Omar IV

June 6, 2487, 1959 Local, 1659 UT

Colonel Nelson had commandeered another vehicle to use as his command vehicle. He had managed to get a small scanner unit, as well as several comm units which were being operated in the back of the vehicle. He sat in the rear of the vehicle looking over reports from his Company’s Commanding Officers. He was losing troopers quickly. They were killing more Batronian soldiers than they were losing, but the Batronians could afford the losses. He couldn’t. He brought up a map of the area on a display and studied it carefully. He needed to find a position that was easier to defend. He sat, silently studying the map before him.

Third Regiment/First Battalion/Company C/First Platoon

Five Miles West of Zelerod, Omar IV

June 6, 2487, 2017 Local, 1717 UT

All the troopers in the Naval Assault Forces were issued night vision goggles and both Phil and Dave were wearing them. But, even with the goggles, they didn’t see the Batronians until they opened fire.

Once again, the Batronians had managed to flank them, coming from Dave and Phil’s left. And they were close! Less than fifty yards away, having somehow managed to move silently into position. This forced Dave and Phil to reposition themselves, bringing their weapons to the left. They began to return fire, trying to keep their heads down as they did. There seemed to be dozens of Batronians converging on them.

“Keep firing!” Phil yelled to Dave as he grabbed four grenades. He pulled the pin on the first one and lobbed it toward the enemy. The explosion flashed in front of them temporarily messing up their night vision goggles. Dave continued to fire blindly as Phil lobbed three more grenades in rapid succession.

“Shit!” Dave yelled as a bolt grazed his cheek. It burned like hell. “I’m hit!”

Phil grabbed his L-29 and began firing. “How bad?” he asked as he took down a Batronian soldier.

“I don’t know. It hurts, but I don’t think it’s bad,” Dave said as he continued firing. The grenades had reduced the incoming fire some, but not much as bolts continued to pound their position.

“Can you cover me?” Phil asked as he saw the Batronians moving toward Second Platoon with heavy firepower.

“Yeah,” Dave replied changing his charge pack.

“Okay,” Phil said. He moved from the foxhole keeping his head down. He was sweating heavily now despite the cool air. He moved behind one of the few trees still standing and looked right toward Second Platoon. Approximately fifteen Batronian soldiers were firing on Second Platoon and appeared to have the platoon pinned down.

“Where are they?” Phil heard Dave ask. Phil looked and saw Dave had moved to a downed tree near him.

“They have Second Platoon pinned down,” Phil said. “We have to move closer.

“Okay, I’ll cover you,” Dave said. He rolled over and watched as Phil advanced thirty yards to another standing tree. Phil turned and signaled for Dave to join him. As Dave prepared to move, a bolt hit the tree he had been laying behind. Dave rolled back and saw a Batronian soldier as two more bolts passed over his head. He watched as, in what seemed like slow motion, the Batronian brought the muzzle of his rifle down slightly toward Dave’s head. As Dave braced for the shot that would surely end his life, he saw the Batronian suddenly drop, hit from behind. Dave saw Sergeant Pachenko step from behind a tree and move up kneeling beside him.

“I saw Moore and you move from the foxhole. What did you see?” Sergeant Pachenko asked.

Dave’s heart was pounding in his chest and his body was shaking. He felt like he was about to throw up. He took a deep breath and then answered. “Second Platoon is pinned down. We’re trying to help.”

“You got hit,” Sergeant Pachenko said looking at the wound to Dave’s face in the glow of his night vision goggles.

“I’m okay,” Dave replied. Phil was signaling urgently. “I have to move.” Dave made his way to Phil’s position, keeping his head down, his legs still shaking from the close call. As Dave took cover, Sergeant Pachenko moved to his side.

“Sergeant,” Phil said pointing at where the Batronians had Second Platoon pinned down about one hundred fifty yards from and slightly downhill of their position. However, there were more trees for cover in the Batronian’s position. Fortunately, the Batronians were facing away from Dave, Phil and the Sergeant.

“Okay, let’s move forward fifty yards and we’ll get them,” the Sergeant said. It took almost ten minutes for all three men to get into position almost directly behind the Batronians who were firing away at Second Platoon. Sergeant Pachenko signaled for Dave and Phil to take aim and both Privates switched their L-29s to auto. As soon as Sergeant Pachenko fired the first round, Dave and Phil opened fire as well, sweeping their weapons as they were trained to do in boot camps. Some of the Batronians dropped, while others turned toward the three humans. Several returned fire, but none of the Batronians lasted long as Dave and Phil mowed them down before the enemy could get an accurate fix on them. When the last one dropped, both men instinctively changed charge packs and switched their L-29s back to single fire mode.

“Oh shit!” Phil yelled moving quickly away from Dave. Dave looked in the direction that Phil was headed and saw Sergeant Pachenko was lying face down, his weapon on the ground beside him. Dave joined Phil, who was checking the Sergeant for a pulse. Phil looked at Dave and shook his head. The two friends picked up the Sergeant and began to carry him back to the Platoon’s position. As they retraced their path, Dave took the earpiece from the Sergeant’s ear and placed it in his own.

“This is Private Roberts. Sergeant Pachenko is KIA,” Dave said his voice cracking.

“Roger,” the Platoon Lieutenant replied.

By the time Dave and Phil made it back to the Platoon, the firefight had died down to a trickle and by 2015, the Batronians had withdrawn once more. Exhausted, Dave slept as soon as Phil had bandaged the wound to his cheek. He was shivering in the cold night air when Phil woke him two hours later to take the watch.