Into the Inferno

Book : Rise of the Republic

by James Rosone, Miranda Watson

Genres: Science Fiction; Military Sci-Fi; Space Marines; Military Thrillers; special forces; military scifi; Future warfare; warfare; army space marines; spaceships; battleships; space war

Synopsis

For the brave Spartacus Division…
…every inch of victory was hell.
Could the Pharaonis finally fall?

After the triumphs of the Battles of the Forts, with Serenea now firmly under Allied control, Brigadier General Spartacus Varinius set his sights upon the Pharaonis home world. The Allies used a tactic reminiscent of Earth’s Second World War—however, instead of island hopping, they began planet-hopping, bypassing Pharaonis strongholds as they zeroed in on the planet Eurysa.

Was the Republic in reach of final victory?

Admiral Ripley Lee Willis had just received his second admiral’s star and additional reinforcements. In a daring maneuver that might alter the course of the war, he struck at the heart of the Zodark Empire. That risk might have cost him his fleet and the command he had worked toward his entire career.

Would Ripley’s fleet outwit his Zodark counterpart?

As the Humtars considered joining the Allies, an old foe emerged from the abyss, sending shivers down their spines.

They thought they had eradicated this evil long ago.

You’ll love this eleventh installment of the epic Rise of the Republic military sci-fi thriller series because the epic battles will make you feel like you are part of the action.

Get it now.

Release date: October 21, 2024

Publisher: Front Line Publishing, Inc.

Print pages: 340

Sample

Chapter One

 

Early May 2114

Eridu Spaceport

Sha’ab District, Zidara

Gurista Prime

 

Karnix Joltar hated babysitting duties, but the higher-ups had decided that since the construction of the space elevator was nearly complete, it was important to up the security level. Besides, even though he would rather be engaged in active combat any day of the week, Zodark soldiers simply did not say no when issued an order.

Twenty Zodarks and a company of two hundred and sixty Gurista Defense Force soldiers seemed a bit excessive to Karnix. He wondered if the powers that be had some inside intel that would require such a large presence at this time. He hadn’t been informed of a credible threat, but intelligence didn’t always flow downward the same way it did upward among the Zodark ranks.

Bang!

A piece of metal paneling struck another during the construction process, causing Karnix to startle. Something about the apparent overkill in security had made him jumpy. He looked around to make sure no one had seen him flinch. The coast was clear.

Boom, boom, BOOM!

Karnix checked himself. Those noises he had just heard were definitely explosions, not the sounds of building materials clanging together. He ran to the nearest window. Plumes of black smoke were rising from several locations around the city.

He keyed his mic. “NOS Tarvox,” said Karnix, “I heard several blasts and can see evidence of the capital under attack.”

“Raka!” cursed Tarvox. “This must be that insurgent group I was briefed on yesterday. We knew they were fomenting dissent, but we didn’t expect them to attack. I want you to call in the exact locations where the disturbances are taking place. Stay vigilant—we may be on the move soon.”

“Yes, NOS,” Karnix replied. He started to calculate the exact location of each plume of smoke when he had a sudden realization.

“NOS Tarvox,” he said, keying his mic again, “the palace is under attack!”

The guttural roar that followed over the comms caused Karnix’s chest cavity to vibrate. After a brief silence, Tarvox responded, “There is no time for my rage. There is only time to attack. I am headed to your location now.”

A few minutes later, NOS Tarvox had selected three Zodark soldiers and thirty Gurista Defense Force soldiers to stay behind and guard the space elevator. The rest of the force—seventeen Zodark soldiers and two hundred and thirty GDF—were told to head to the palace and see what was going on.

“Keep alert!” ordered NOS Tarvox as he signaled for their makeshift reaction force to advance. “If anyone sees anything suspicious, I want to know about it immediately.”

*******

 

Outside the Capitol Palace

Zidara, Gurista Prime

 

Staff Sergeant Anders Johansson’s pulse was pounding, and he could feel all the muscles in his body tense. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The heightened state of awareness was justified given the fact that they had just overthrown all of the Zodark overlords on Gurista Prime, but if he didn’t calm down his fight-or-flight instinct, it was going to get in the way of him doing his job.

There were two groups of six Republic Delta soldiers guarding the perimeter of the palace, and each team of Deltas was working with a group of twelve insurgents they had trained up over the last several months. Although they had a lot of history working together, there was a huge difference between training drills and dealing with actual potential live combat.

Isolated pockets of Guristas battled it out with some of the other units that had been stationed throughout Zidara to keep order; the noises of combat, although seemingly isolated and contained, were unnerving.

Staff Sergeant Johansson had expected to have some trouble. It was impossible, given the situation, that there would be zero Guristas who decided that they had an allegiance to the Zodarks. But Johansson was hopeful the number would be small, especially given the shock and awe campaign they had carried out—the show of force had hopefully been sufficient to scare many of their potential attackers away. However, he knew that if things went sideways, their group of thirty-six guarding the perimeter could turn into a speed bump. It would be up to Drew and his Kites to manage getting Tammuz to the bunker.

One of the drone operators responsible for providing overwatch waved his arm to signal for Johansson to come over and look at something he had found. “Boss, looks like we have company,” he announced.

Johansson’s stomach dropped downward until it felt like it was reaching his knees. Coming from the direction of the spaceport that had been under construction was a large group of inbound Zodark and Gurista Defense Force soldiers, and they looked like they were in a hurry.

“Send it out to everyone,” Johansson ordered.

After clicking a few keys, the drone operator pulled the overlay of known enemy combatants and sent it to the HUDs of those guarding the perimeter of the palace. Sergeant Johansson heard several soldiers curse beneath their breath as they realized what was headed toward them.

Before anyone had a chance to panic, however, a Zodark Zeek swooped in, seemingly from nowhere, and started raking through their ranks.

Zip, zip, zip, zip!

“Take cover!” yelled Johansson.

Several of the insurgents Johansson had spent the last several months training were mowed down almost instantly. If Johansson hadn’t narrowly missed the same fate himself by jumping behind one of the large decorative columns that surrounded the palace, he would have mourned their deaths. They were good men and women. However, at that moment, Johansson was just grateful that whatever concrete-like substance they used in their construction on Gurista Prime had apparently been sufficient to keep him from getting sliced in half.

After two passes, the Zeek had managed to kill at least fifteen of Johansson’s soldiers. Johansson realized that if he didn’t want to find out firsthand what really happened in the afterlife, they had to get a move on.

“Fall back to the palace!” he roared. He knew that the best thing they could do at this point was to make sure that Tammuz got moved to the bunker, especially as the Zodark and GDF forces closed in. He beat his fist against his chest and psyched himself up for a fight to the death.

“If I’m going down, I’ll take as many of those blue bastards with me as I can!” he yelled.

Several of his comrades in arms yelled with him as they sprinted to the palace. The Zeek took another pass at them, killing several more soldiers. However, just as Johansson reached the nearest doorway, he heard a new sound from the air. He turned in time to see an F-11 Gripen swoop in from nowhere and lay into the Zeek.

Boom!

The deadly alien craft exploded and tumbled from the sky—right toward the entrance to the palace where Johansson stood.

“Run!” he screamed.

*******

 

Inside the Capitol Palace

Zidara, Gurista Prime

 

“Tammuz, would you like to accept the offer of support from the Republic and our alliance?” asked Dobbs.

“Yes, we would most graciously accept whatever kind of support and assistance your force can provide to aid in our quest to remain a free—”

Boom!

Something loud had occurred near the palace, but it wasn’t clear what just yet. Tammuz could feel his palms getting sweaty.

What the hell is happening out there? he wondered.

He heard the voices of several Gurista insurgents yelling near the northern entrance to the palace, followed by a much louder and closer explosion-like boom. Something had slammed into the building—that much was certain.

The connection to Dobbs had been lost, but that was now the least of Tammuz’s concerns. He found himself being guided by the man he simply knew as “David” toward a side entrance he hadn’t noticed before.

“We’ve got to get you to the bunker!” Drew bellowed. “It’s not safe here right now.”

David had them racing down a hallway until they reached a room with a stairwell that led to another hallway, then it turned and led to the entrance of an elevator shaft.

Two other men, and two women, had quickly joined them.

“We need you to start the biometric sequence,” David directed.

It was like reality struck Tammuz in the face and he realized why everyone was standing around and staring at him.

Thank goodness we reprogrammed the palace accesses as soon as we took over, thought Tammuz as he placed his hand on the fingerprint reader. A line of blue light scanned his eyes, capturing the images of his retinas. A second later, the door to the elevator opened with a hiss.

Tammuz walked onto the elevator with Drew, David, and his crew and turned around. Several Deltas and Gurista insurgents were running toward them.

“Should we hold the elevator?” Tammuz asked Drew.

“No,” Drew replied flatly. “They’re here to make sure that none of our enemies get close to you.”

Tammuz took a deep breath and let it out. He looked at the men and women one last time as the doors to the elevator closed, realizing that the next time he saw them, he would likely be speaking at their memorial service.

*******

 

Tammuz was sullen. Sitting in the bunker, he felt helpless. As a man of action for most of his life, this left him despondent. He skulked his way into a corner and rested with his head in his hands.

After a minute, he grumbled, “Are we just going to wait here until we die?”

“No, sir,” Drew replied. “We do have a plan.”

Tammuz’s ears perked up. “Oh?”

“Yes. You see, this bunker has another exit,” Drew began.

“It does?” asked Tammuz, bewildered.

“The powers that be on Gurista Prime apparently decided long ago that having their leader isolated and unable to escape was a bad thing. So in their wisdom, they created a tunnel that goes out about one hundred meters and then branches out in three different directions.”

Tammuz sat up much straighter now. “Where do these paths lead?” he asked.

“Well, I have good news, and I have bad news,” Drew explained. “We’ve sent drones out to map the tunnels and see if there are any enemy forces we need to be aware of. So far, we know that one tunnel goes to the Mukhabarat headquarters, which is not exactly the best location for us to show up, as you can imagine. Another tunnel goes to the closest military base—”

“Excuse me, but what was the good news?” interrupted Tammuz.

“Well, so far, the tunnels themselves are clear, and the military base closest to the Capitol Palace was absolutely decimated, so I’m sure that my team could handle whatever is left there.”

“All right…and where does this third exit go?” asked Tammuz, not certain exactly what his odds of surviving this day were looking like.

“Still waiting to find that one out,” said Drew. “It’s a long tunnel. I hope you have your walking shoes on.”

Tammuz looked down at his feet. He was wearing business shoes, but they were comfortable enough. The idea of being in a tunnel for such a long time made him nervous, though. With only six defenders, he would be in a very vulnerable position.

Still, if I didn’t know about these tunnels, how many Zodarks or GDF out there knew about them? Tammuz wondered. And of those, how many survived and have the ability to do anything about it?

These thoughts gave him solace. Even if there were some enemy forces out there with such knowledge, with all the attacks that had taken place, it was unlikely that they would be in a position to act on that information.

Five minutes later, Drew approached Tammuz again. “Are you ready to move?” he asked.

“Where are we going?”

“To the Enuma Archives,” Drew replied.

A wave of relief washed over Tammuz. He had never been so happy at the thought of ancient historical texts and scrolls in all of his life. He wondered why the designers of these tunnels would have chosen such a benign, non-hardened location as an exit, and then it hit him. It’s because it’s boring, he realized. No one would expect it.

All these years, he had thought that the ground floor of the Enuma Archives had been turned into a vault to protect historical documents and keep them preserved. Now he understood the truth.

 

Chapter Two

 

Early May 2114

Task Force Lightning

RNS Maximus

Gurista Prime, Orinda System

 

Brigadier General Brian Royce stood at the holographic map table, his gaze fixed on the spinning image of Gurista Prime’s capital, Zidara. The command center buzzed with the frenetic energy of precombat operations. The massive orbital assault ship, RNS Maximus, was descending into the planet’s lower orbit. Squadrons of F-97 Orions and B-99 Raiders were being prepped for launch, made ready to intercept any Zodark Vultures or Zeeks that might rise to meet them.

With a wave of his hand, Royce shifted the holographic display to show the descending Maximus and its formidable escort: the battle cruiser RNS Invincible, flanked by the heavy cruisers Vortex and Dominion, with the Maximus’s sister ships, MacArthur and Eisenhower, trailing. A pair of frigates formed the rear guard. It was an impressive invasion force, but Royce knew they were far behind enemy lines. If things went wrong out here, they were on their own.

An ensign approached, stumbling over his words. “Um, excuse me, General, um—”

Royce turned, his expression patient. “At ease, Ensign Horn, right? Take a breath and start over. I’m a person like you. I put my pants on one leg at a time. Now, what’s the message you have for me?”

Horn nodded, swallowing hard. “Sir, we received a message from MacArthur—General Berg is asking to speak to you on the secure comms.”

Royce gave a reassuring smile. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Confidence, Ensign, you can do this. Now link the call to my station.” His words were not just a command but a reminder of the crucial role confidence plays in the military.

As Royce walked to his workstation, he couldn’t help but hope that this wasn’t another instance of the “Good Idea Fairy” striking at the worst possible moment, bringing with it the chaos of unexpected changes. When he activated the secure comms, the image of Major General Jørgen Berg—JB—flickered into view.

“Brian, good to see you. I wanted to catch you before the landings start. I’ve been thinking about what you said regarding the Serpentis campaign and how your SOF task force is best used as a scalpel, not a broadsword. I’ve decided to change your orders per your recommendations.”

Royce raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Berg continued, “I’m sending a FRAGO to the Maximus, reassigning Colonel Hiro’s regiment back to your task force. You’re right; you’ll be more effective in achieving our mission objectives this way. I know VC has a bit of a reputation as a hardnosed hard-ass. I’d like to think I’m at least smart enough to know when a better plan is presented. For the good of the soldiers I lead, I should place my ego aside and embrace the better plan. If your force needs additional support, don’t hesitate to ask. Do you have any final questions before everything kicks off?”

Royce felt a surge of relief on hearing the humility expressed by JB as the overall ground force commander. Royce’s SOF task force was at JB’s mercy in how he wanted to use them to support his overall mission—reasserting Free Gurista control over their home world and the five colony worlds they controlled.

Leaning forward, bringing his face closer to the camera, Royce said, “Just one question, JB. I’ve got the palace as our primary objective. But what about the spaceport? That was a Ranger objective, Colonel Hiro’s. Is that still one of your targets or transferred to mine now that the Rangers are back under my control?”

Berg thought about that for a second, then shook his head. “Eh, that’s a good point, Royce. Tell you what, I’ll handle the Eridu Spaceport with the other two Ranger regiments staying with my force. You focus on your other objectives for now. Once we have our initial goals met, we’ll reconvene to assess what else needs a military response versus a civilian-led effort. For better or worse, we’re the muscle for the new regime—at least until we can get a proper Gurista force to replace us. Like I said earlier, if you need support, just ask.”

“Thanks, JB. I appreciate your willingness to listen. We Deltas can make a big impact if we’re used in a way that maximizes our special abilities.”

Berg smiled at his reply. “I’m going to like working with you, Brian. Good luck. Berg out.”

Royce leaned back in his chair, staring at the blank screen for a moment, satisfied with how the conversation had just gone. Now that he had Hiro’s regiment back, his options had expanded. Glancing at the clock, he saw they had forty-nine minutes until deployment.

Better round up the troops and brief them on the change of plans.

He stood and made his way back to the holographic map table, a renewed sense of purpose driving him forward.

*******

 

Echo Company, 2nd Regiment, 4th Ranger Division

RNS Maximus

Gurista Prime, Orinda System

 

Captain Paul “Pauli” Smith stood before the Rangers of Echo Company, his eyes scanning the faces of the men and women under his command. The brightly lit hangar of the RNS Maximus hummed with the sound of final preparations as ground crews ran through last-minute system checks and the pilots hastily finished their preflight checklists. Pauli stepped onto a container box to address his troops, his voice steady and commanding as he spoke.

“Listen up, Echo Company! For those of you who are new to Echo, this might be your first jump, your first real taste of combat. For many of us, this mission is just another of many jumps we’ve made during this war and the last. But this mission, this jump, is special. Previously, our jumps were to invade an enemy planet, liberate an allied planet, or defend our own. Today is different—today we’re coming to the aid of a planet that has thrown off the shackles of bondage previously held by the Zodarks. Unlike previous missions, we are not liberating an alien race. We are liberating a fellow human society, a group of humans once from Earth but stolen from our planet to be bred like cattle to fight on behalf of the Zodark Empire. Well, we’ve come to put a stop to that,” Pauli declared, his tone infused with a mix of seriousness and determination. “In a few minutes, we’re going to board our battle taxis and Uber our way into destiny.”

Laughter and snide comments rippled through the ranks, breaking some of the tension.

“All joking aside,” Pauli continued, “in a few moments, we’re going to board our ATACs and head into battle. When we win, we will liberate the Gurista people—freeing a society of hundreds of millions not just here on Gurista Prime but on five other colony planets in this system and the one next door. These people have been under Zodark rule for centuries, forced into servitude. Rangers, today, we change that.”

The Rangers nodded along in agreement, their expressions more serious.

“In a coordinated effort, the Gurista government was overthrown by the Free Gurista movement. This was accomplished with the help of Republic Intelligence and Delta Special Forces units, which had infiltrated the planet and Gurista society more than a year earlier. While some Gurista military commanders, their units, and many local law enforcement units hastily recognized the new government—some did not,” Pauli explained, recounting details from the Commander’s Brief he’d attended an hour earlier.

“This is a fluid situation, Rangers. We have limited intelligence and likely will not have more until we’re on the ground and can begin to collect it ourselves. What we do know is this—some Zodark units garrisoned outside the city have managed to rally some local military and security personnel who had yet to switch sides and remained loyal to local Zodark units. At least one of these forces has launched an attack against the spaceport while a separate force attacked the palace, where the new leader is currently under siege. Now, here’s the fun part,” Pauli explained, a crooked smile forming along the edges of his mouth. “Our company has been detached from the regiment and assigned to support the JSOC unit being led by Brigadier General Brian Royce himself in a direct assault against the palace.”

Several of the Rangers whistled softly at the mention of being assigned to work with the Joint Special Operation Command again and General Royce in particular. The Delta soldier was a hero within the SOF community and revered like a living legend.

“As everyone knows, we’re still short on officers and noncoms. I’m going to continue leading First Platoon,” Pauli said, then looked at Yogi. “Lieutenant Sanders, you’re in charge of Second and Third Platoons. Lieutenant Yassin, you have Fourth and Fifth Platoons. I know this isn’t exactly the ideal situation. We just have to make do with what we have, and remember—our job, once on the surface, is to support JSOC in any manner they deem necessary. Hooah?”

“Hooah!”

Pauli stood there a moment longer, his eyes searching their faces. He could see the determination in their eyes, a burning fire within. They were ready for him to cut them loose. Just then, the cadre of JSOC soldiers walked into the hangar deck, making their way toward them. Pauli looked on in admiration of these gods of war, these harbingers of death that walked among them.

The Rangers of Echo Company parted like the Red Sea as these augmented supersoldiers walked through their ranks to waiting ATACs. Then Pauli saw a soldier breaking off from his comrades to walk directly toward Pauli as he stood on his crate. As the figure approached, Pauli saw the nametape on the front of the Dragon Skin exosuit—BG Royce.

Pauli extended a hand to the approaching soldier, who accepted and joined him atop the crate as the Delta soldiers loaded into four of the waiting ATACs. “I’m Captain Paul Smith, Commander, Echo Company—everyone calls me Pauli,” he quickly introduced himself.

With a firm handshake, Royce answered, “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Pauli. I see they pulled you from the NCO ranks to make you an officer, eh?”

Pauli bunched his eyebrows in confusion. Then it dawned on him they had met many years prior during the Intus campaign—on the RNS Mercy. They had both been wounded during one of the battles, and their paths had crossed aboard the hospital ship.

“Ah, took me a moment to place where we had met—the Mercy. You had given me some advice about Special Forces as my enlistment was coming up. But, yeah, made master sergeant, then shortly afterward was given a battlefield commission. Either way, sir, Echo Company stands ready for orders,” Pauli commented, gesturing toward his Rangers.

Royce nodded approvingly, then faced the Rangers to address them briefly. “Listen up, Rangers! I’m Brigadier General Brian Royce, and for better or worse, Echo Company will be joining with JSOC as we jump into history—a history that you and I will create through our shared victory as we bring death and destruction to the enemies of our nation, the Zodarks.”

Royce spoke in an animated way that inspired the Rangers to do more than they thought they could. Pauli admired the command he immediately had of the group.

“Our mission is simply this: we are to counterassault the Zodark and Gurista loyalist forces in and around the palace, where a contingent of Deltas and Republic Intelligence have been held up since the start of the siege,” Royce continued. “We must break this siege, restore order across the capital, and then expand that order across the remainder of the planet—bringing stability for the new regime to establish itself and bring the Gurista people in league with the rest of our alliance.

“Echo’s objective is simple. You are to kill Zodarks and anyone who fires upon you. Clear the perimeter around the palace and ensure the enemy has no room to retreat, reorganize, or counterattack. In a few minutes, you’ll be forwarded a digital map with an overlay of the city and the palace. You will see a parade ground to the northeast of the palace, maybe a kilometer in distance. When the parade ground has been secured, Scarabs will ferry in a few dozen Bobcats, courtesy of the RA, to give us some wheels and rapid mobility.

“If and when the skies are deemed secured, some Starlifters will land at the parade ground, offloading our standard DN-12 Cougars, Linebacker APCs, and some Puma light tanks for direct fire support. You have a big task ahead of you, Echo, and we are counting on you. Do not let us down, do not leave us hanging—you got me, Echo?”

As the soldiers shouted “Hooah!” in response, Royce pointed to the waiting ATACs, gesturing for them to board their wings of destiny.

“Good luck, Pauli. I’ll see you on the other side,” Royce said before hopping off the crate and jogging toward his waiting ATAC.

*******

 

Echo Company

2nd Ranger Regiment

 

Inside the ATAC, a more heavily armored Osprey Charlie model, Pauli took his seat in the troop bay as the crew chief signaled they were ready. As the rear hatch closed, the bright lights of the hangar deck steadily disappeared. They were replaced with the overhead lighting as it cast a dim blue glow inside. Then came the sound of the engines, the pilots starting them up as they prepared to disembark.

As Pauli glanced around, noting the mixture of seasoned veterans and fresh faces he was still learning to put names to, he felt a reassuring calm. He watched the more experienced soldiers from the Serpentis campaign helping the newer members of their unit to make last-minute adjustments and fixes to their gear or weapons. It was at small moments like this when the light touch of a veteran carried more weight to a new soldier than a civilian could comprehend. Something about going into battle, to fight for one’s life and the lives of those around one, had a mysterious way of maturing and unifying people that those who never served rarely understood.

We’ve got this…we’ll do fine, Pauli thought to himself before closing his own eyes, refocusing his mind on the task at hand until a nagging thought returned—how he’d found himself in command of Echo Company.

During the Great Demobilization effort after the end of the Zodark War, it had been decided that the Rangers no longer needed two active-duty divisions. One division would remain on active duty, the other would transfer to the reserve, with one regiment of the latter remaining active but assigned to the Army’s training and doctrine command or TRADOC. Their job was to recruit, train, and prepare soldiers to become Space Rangers and manage the officer and NCO academies.

A few years ago, Pauli had reluctantly agreed to accept the promotion to master sergeant, a decision that haunted him to this day. The only reason he had agreed was that his friend Yogi had talked him into it. He’d bragged about how they could even attend the training at the same time, and Lord knew he’d been a staff sergeant for nearly a decade—he was overdue to be promoted. He knew if he kept turning down the promotion, they’d eventually boot him out of the Rangers and demote him to a line unit—infantry, regular Army. The thought of losing the prestigious tan beret he had worked so hard to achieve was eventually enough of an incentive to accept the promotion.

Looking back on things, he should have listened to his wife and just left the Army. He’d gone on to become a millionaire multiple times over, so he didn’t need the retirement. He already had a chest full of medals and awards from the First Zodark War, and he had done his bit, his service to God and country. But like many reservists, he enjoyed the camaraderie, and the two weeks of training each quarter was a nice change of pace and reprieve from the daily grind.

Opening his eyes as he looked down at his rifle, he felt every ounce of the weight of command that bore down on him, threatening to crush him the longer this war dragged on. That was when he noticed the slight tremor in his hand as he tightened his grip around his rifle. It seemed to happen on the eve of every battle. At least, that was when he observed it.

It’s just stress, he told himself. Nothing to be alarmed about.

Still, the loss of soldiers under his command during these past couple of years was beginning to take its toll on him. The losses had become so severe and so frequent that they had necessitated the reorganization and, in some cases, disbandment of entire companies and even regiments, at least until enough replacements could arrive to bring them back. With nearly twenty years of service in the Army, he felt it was his duty to lead them, regardless of the losses they sustained, regardless of the physical toll it was having on his mind, body, and soul—he owed it to them.

“We’re off, sir. Finally getting into the action,” commented one of the new Rangers—Rosales, a private first class who had joined them fresh from Camp Darby a week before shipping out.

“Don’t worry, PFC, this war is far from over. There will be plenty of action in the coming years,” Pauli assured him, the sound of the engines growing louder as they lifted off the flight deck.

“We’re on the move, Rangers! Remember your training and keep your heads on a swivel. Stay frosty—stay alive,” Master Sergeant Drew Tinker shouted to the platoon.

Just then, the ATAC must have left the ship as the feeling of weightlessness took over, causing anything that hadn’t been properly secured to float free for all to see. It didn’t take long for the pilots to begin their descent, their mad dash to the surface before returning to the ship to rinse and repeat.

Pauli had just linked his HUD to the ATAC’s forward camera when a DM from the pilot appeared. Opening the message, he felt his stomach tighten as he read the words.

Hang tight back there—fighters inbound.

“Aw, crap, they had to send fighters,” Pauli mumbled to himself.

“Whoa, back up there, Captain—did you just say we’ve got fighters inbound?” Pauli’s platoon sergeant asked. Not sure at first how the man had heard his musings, he checked his comms setting and realized the DM he’d meant to forward to Lieutenants Sanders and Yassin had inadvertently been sent to his entire company.

Damn it, the cat’s out of the bag now, he lamented privately.

“Yup, they sure are,” he responded.