章節 1: Chapter: 1 Echoes of Battlefield {Re-write}
The shrill shriek of the klaxon ripped through the foggy silence. Someone from the morning watch took the pain of switching on the light, flooding the cramped barrack with groans and curses as nearly two dozen female figures bolted upright and stumbled their way to the common lavatory.
Those who had the sense to keep their eyes closed until after the lights were switched on could make out the reality of their so-called barrack: Sub-city maintenance tunnels repurposed to fit the needs of its temporary inhabitants.
One of these particularly cheerful women was Renko Ivanov, Sergeant, Designated Marksmen, Japanese Republic Army. She blinked away the remnants of sleep in her eyes and blinked hard once more to adjust to the light. It was not yet sunrise, perhaps a little over a quarter to five. The digital display above the lavatory gates blinked into light and in bright red, it said 4:59 am.
'Close.'
She shoved aside the woman trying to drown herself in the sink and sank her face into the water. It was cold, harsh, and refreshing.
Gasp
A little ahead, a crowd was forming as one after the other the women stripped and stepped under the large shower head which might have once been the fire sprinkler. A moment later, she joined the mass of bodies as well, groaning as the lukewarm liquid washed away the dirt and grime from her body.
She screwed her eyes shut and pursed her lips tightly, making sure none of the water entered anywhere it should have no business entering. One could never be too careful about what the military might be using in the days of scarcity to meet its soldiers' basic demands.
It was the year 2200, and society had experienced everything that nature could throw at it. Natural disasters, scarcity, global warming, Nuclear war... although the last one was limited to continents she would rather not name.
The military did everything it could or had to, to keep itself up and running, one might wonder how the soldiers functioned if resources were so scarce. Her answer was: 'Believe me, you'd rather not find out.'
The world as was known is no more, with war across every continent, every planet, across the solar system itself. Every day the death tolls show no less than ten million deaths across the solar system and twice that many births. Food is precious, water is even more so, fuel trumps all in the market, and gold has no value outside technological applications. Nations go to war over the smallest reserve found on just about any planet.
In such a war-torn world, human life has lost much of its worth.
Renko Ivanov had been lucky, or at least she thinks she had been lucky so far, she had a military ration to eat and drink, a cot to sleep on, and a rifle to hug while sleeping. She walked over to her bunk, buck-naked and dripping the cleaning liquid all over the floor. Her body was nothing worth noting: sinewy and muscular with scar tissue running across her torso, the same as the rest of the women hurrying to dress up.
Renko quietly fixed her bunk, stuffed the wet clothes in a plastic bag, and placed the bag in the steel footlocker. The foot locker was where she kept all her worldly possessions and if anyone asked she would admit it looked considerably empty despite her nearing her mid-40s.
A bell rang once more, signaling chow time, and the women started to filter out through the barrack door, jogging across the uneven floor. Boots slammed on the ground, creating a harmonizing echo that was only broken by the thunderous roar of the Culinary Specialist,
"Alright people, chow time! Grab yer sporks and get in line for grubs."
A rather unnecessary action considering she was handing off suspiciously looking dark bars of field ration to the soldiers walking past her in a single file. She handed one to Renko who took it without any delay hurling curses at her, those after her were not so quick.
What was she eating? It was the universal supplements ration bar, made from something or the other, perhaps artificially synthesized? She didn't bother asking. Asking wouldn't change its nasty chewy property or the rather sandy taste.
Moments later, Renko found her face assaulted by the smell of gun oil and metal. It was the armory, on the opposite end of the camp, no one would be dumb enough to build an armory next to a bunch of unstable grunts.
"Sergeant?"
She turned to face the source of the voice, it was a private, early twenties, the name Yumi on the name tape. Probably a youngster who volunteered, probably not a slum rat, and not a middle-class family either.
"Private."
"Your gear."
Yumi held out the bundled-up IFL for her to take and Renko didn't bother confirming if she had everything or not, she was sure she didn't. No one ever did, not in these times.
Renko searched the armory and located her 417 nestled neatly on a rack filled with assault rifles. Roughly ten pounds, a little over forty-three inches, without every other accessary it would need but those were already in the bundle.
It felt comfortable in her hands. Steel and polymer. She ran a practiced hand over the smooth surface, checking for anything bent or broken. It was operational so she slung it over her shoulder and made her way out of there.
"Gear up in 10!"
Renko had been smart to get her gear before the announcement, now the armory was flooded with soldiers lining up to get their gear. She made her way to trucks waiting to dump the guerilla troops into the ruins of the capital city of Old Japan, Tokyo.
Ten minutes later the convoy descended into the tunnel, making its way towards the southern edge of the ruins. The briefing yesterday was about combing out one sector of the city for rebel elements. As if the rebels would waste their time with good old Tokyo, where there's nothing left to scavenge for.
The compartment was cramped and the canvas prevented any overhead light from filtering inside. Renko was seated near the rear, her rifle resting between her knees. She would have to disembark first, searching for a vantage point and set up a nest there.
If anything, the noise of the engine was the worst part of the journey, followed closely by the smell of sweat and whatever it was that officers smoked now that tobacco was no longer being rationed out to field units. Soon, the mission briefing began through the speaker installed behind the driver's seat, eta, designated area, estimated duration, and exfiltration. None of which sounded good to her.
The journey was brief, about twenty minutes later the truck came to a halt. A private lifted the canvas cover and they were greeted by a bleak landscape of endless ruins as far as eyes could see. They were on a slope of a caved-in road, just about to enter open hostile territory and it was the support teams' turn to get their asses out into the wild.
Renko stepped out, sprinting to the nearest block of rubble large enough to hide behind. A corporal followed after her, but she was slow and tripped twice in covering a little over fifty meters,
'Guess I'll be getting a new spotter soon.'
Her eyes followed as the truck departed from the convoy and another duo rushed out about three blocks up the street. It would be annoying having another sniper so close at hand but Urbans took unexpected turns, who knows, they might even serve as decoys for her... or she for them.
The city was done in bad, almost all the buildings were cropped down to less than four flights, five if one counted the remains of the walls. War had ravaged the city like nothing before, it had left it scared and destroyed beyond all repair, and just like that, the bustling metropolis was abandoned for one of Jupiter's moons.
Soon, the convoy moved out of sight, bending at a curve a couple of blocks down the road. Renko shifted her attention to the task at hand, moving further into the cluster of rubble and debris, cautiously, from cover to cover, anything to not have to crawl.
The corporal followed after her, still struggling with the unnecessarily large kit she was hauling. What the hell was in that anyway?
Renko sighed inwardly, usually the spotter was supposed to be more skilled than the sniper, but her last spotter got squashed into tomato soup when a tank rolled over their nest. She was luckier, only lost half of her right foot, luckier still it was only the toes but the big toe didn't go, so most of her balance stayed.
Once the duo reached a relatively stable structure—a collapsed hospital building with just enough to make for a good vintage point. Renko turned and motioned for the corporal to follow her.
She scaled the debris field with practiced ease, careful not to dislodge any loose stones and smashing her Corporal's face in as she followed after her. Reaching the third floor, she reached a place that might've been some sort of isolation ward. There was no window there but that wouldn't be much of a problem considering a significant portion of the room had been smashed in, providing a clear view of the street and several adjacent blocks.
She unslung the 417 and began setting up her gear, laying down a mat just beyond the reach of the sun's light, preparing everything she needed: bipod and scope. The rangefinder was her spotter's gear, and she was still fumbling around one floor below her. The H&C 417 was a combat rifle that spewed 7.62×51mm rounds, or as she liked to call them, the 'Silver Bullets.' With a sigh, she made herself comfortable with her eyes staring out through the scope, she would be here for quite some time after all.
The streets were eerily quiet with no sight or sound of any life form as far as naked eyes could see. Although, through her day scope she spotted one of the trucks parked next to the ruins of a green building.
"Hurry it up, corporal!"
The woman stumbled her way next to her and began unloading whatever the heck she was carrying with her: a rangefinder, binoculars, spotter scope, another 416 but with a 12-inch barrel instead of the 20-inch one fitted into Renko's, and a stinger missile...
'What the...'
"What do you need a stinger for?"
The corporal whirled around, fumbling with the spotting kit,
"What?"
"Forget it."
Renko didn't bother with questioning her, she didn't need any more than she already did, instead, she decided to break the radio silence and report herself in:
{Static Noise}
[Renko] (Callsign Raven): Raven One-Two in position, come in Raven Eleven, over.
[Mobile Communication Relay] (Callsign Raven One-One ): Raven One-Two, this is Raven Eleven, report.
[Raven One-Two] Raven One-Two in the nest. I got eyes on grid square Obssilion-9-1-9. No hostile movement was observed, and negative on primary dig-ins, over.
[Raven One-One] Copy that Raven One-Two. Patching you through to Forest fire, over.
Renko waited as the mobile communications relay patched her through to the main base of operation back underground some ten miles south of her position. It was a dangerous game setting up a position this close to what might become an actual combat zone but there hadn't been any incident for over five years and they were on a training exercise and nothing more.
[Raven One-One] Raven One-two to Forest fire, this is Raven Actual patching you through, over.
[Base of Operation] (Forest Fire) Forest Fire copies, Raven One-two. Sit-rep?
[Raven One-Two] This is Raven One-Two, reporting from grid square Obssillion-9-1-9. Negative on recent hostile activity. No sign of fresh tracks or disturbance in the primary observation area.
[Forest Fire] Understood, Raven One-Two. Keep watch for hostile elements and report any suspicious movement. We'll update the intel based on recon,
[Raven One-Two] Will do, Forest Fire. Raven One-Two out.
[Base of Operation] (Callsign Forest Fire) Forest Fire to all Raven Flocks, report in grid observations!
[Raven One-One] Raven Eleven, clear.
[Raven Two-One] Raven Twenty-One, nada.
[Raven Three-One] Raven Thirty-One, no sign of hostile movement.
'What the fuck?'
How many snipers does that make? Roughly around six maybe?
That's all there were at the base!
Renko didn't like what she was hearing and from the way her spotter's breath hitched, neither did she.
[Forest Fire] Forest Fire to Osprey Actual, advance to grid Obssilion-1-0-0-0.
[Reconnaissance Squad Command] (Callsign Osprey Actual) Moving in, Keep an eye out Ravens, over.
The Osprey teams moved from their stationary position, urban camo was kinda their thing so Renko barely managed to spot all of them. Around fifty figures. They looked like chunks of concrete creeping through the deserted avenues toward a residential block.
Renko focused her scope on the Osprey team, they were good, moving methodically into the abandoned residential block. The corporal next to her, finally settled with the gear and began scanning the block with her spotter scope, it was mounted on a bipod so she didn't have to lie down or stand up, instead, she sat down on a stool she found somewhere.
"Eyes on the rear."
"Roger that, sarge."
The minutes ticked by with absolute silence as the Osprey teams methodically cleaned one house after the other, but nothing so far. It wasn't until after two hours that they called it in:
[Osprey Actual] This is Osprey Actual, in position at grid Obssilion-1-0-0-0. Negative on hostiles so far. Over.
Renko finally got her eyes on Osprey Actual, a crouched figure in an alley, bending over a bulky radio device. It traded maneuverability with range, accuracy, defense, and endurance. Heck, one could use it to smash some skulls open and it would work perfectly.
"Anything?"
She ashed the corporal again,
"Negative, Sarge."
Her eyes didn't leave the scope to report, that was something. Most beginners made that silly mistake, which meant she was good enough.
Hours passed by, silent hours, the monotony broken only by the occasional update from Osprey Actual as they moved deeper into the grid. One good thing about the ration bars was that they didn't produce any waste upon being digested, which made her job so much easier than when they were still issuing MREs, and less messy too.
Suddenly, the Corporal shifted, zooming in on something from her movements. Renko tried to focus her sight on the spotter's line of vision, she saw a sewer pipe jutting out of the ground.
"Hold,"
The Corporal whispered,
"I think I saw something."
Renko stared at the gigantic pipes, seeing nothing,
"Where?"
The Corporal fidgeted a little,
"School building, west of Osprey Actual, second floor, east wing. See him?"
Renko adjusted the scope, training on the spot the corporal was telling her about. Every nerve of her trigger finger twitched as it rested against the trigger guard. One second, two, ten, twenty, a minute... nothing.
"Negative. Looks like the window's blacked out. Possible barricade?"
The Corporal hummed,
"Maybe. Standby. Thermal sight engaged."
Renko did as the Corporal suggested, although she wasn't particularly fond of using it, too much obscured for her comfort,
"Got a flicker. Looks humanoid, the third window to the stairs. Partial thermal signature."
"Excellent. Range locked 635 meters. Got a clear firing lane?"
"Affirmative."
The corporal nodded along with her,
"Copy that. Take a hair elevation for the angle. Calculating wind drift..."
Renko smiled internally, she liked this one.
"Two clicks right?"
"Two clicks right. Sight picture confirmed. Waiting for movement.
They both stared intently at the window, waiting for the hostile sniper to make a move.
"There!"
The Corporal exclaimed,
"Scope flair at the window. Looks like he's checking for Ospreys to hunt. Standby..."
Renko observed through the thermal sights as her target shifted back into its position, possibly aiming. Before she could speak, the Corporal called out again,
"Target's back in position. Center mass. You good?"
"Hair on the trigger. Just a silver more..."
Suddenly, the Corporal exclaimed,
"He's leaning against something! Possible weapon?"
Renko frowned, her day would only get worse if one of the infantrymen died under her watch,
"Shot's on. take it."
She pulled the trigger as soon, if not sooner, than when she called in confirmation with the Corporal. A loud CRACK followed by a muffled rattle as the shell casing landed in the pouch. The Corporal contined stared intently through the scope.
"Confirmed. Target down. No secondary movement."
Renko took a deep breath, pulling her face away from the scope.
"Good spotting. First one down for the day."
There was a brief burst of static in her ears before an annoyed voice called in the shot,
[Osprey Actual] Osprey Actual ro Raven Flocks. What the fuck are you shooting at? Over.
The Corporal chuckled once before keying the radio,
"Raven One-Two to Osprey Actual. Hostile down. On your right, the School Building, Second Floor. Possible sniper. Over."
There was a pause before a grudging voice grumbled through,
[Osprey Actual] Copy that, Raven One-Two. Moving to investigate. Keep us covered. Over.
One of the Osprey teams altered their course, away from the rest, keeping low and moving at a slow pace across the debris field. Renko switched to the day scope and began sweeping the area but the Corporal continued following the Osprey team's progress.
They burst into the building through the front door, skulking against the all as they made their way up. Once they were out of sight for Renko, a couple of distant CRACKS rattled out and she was forced to turn on the thermal again.
The firefight lasted a movement before everything went silent, The radio crackled again,
[Osprey Two-Two] All Hostile Elements neutralized.
[Osprey Actual] Copy that, Osprey Two-Two. Sweep of the building before forming up.
Renko let out a long sigh before switching on the safety of her 416. The corporal finally pulled her face away from the scope and sighed alongside her,
"Nice work, Sarge."
Renko would have liked to reply with something nice, perhaps something other than work. Maybe she should compliment the Corporal's hairdo? That would have been weird considering it was a buzz cut.
However, before they could celebrate, another radio chatter caught their attention:
[Osprey Actual] Forest Fire this is Osprey Actual, come in, over.
No response.
[Osprey Actual] Forest Fire this is Osprey Actual, come in...
"Equipment malfunction?"
Corporal voiced her thoughts but Renko didn't agree with her, the base had enough radio parts to build their entire communication thrice over. Something was wrong.
[Bzzt!]
[Bzzz....]
[Bzzzt.....]
Finally, Renko realized what had happened. She heard rather than saw the cause of radio silence from the Base Camp. A loud 'Whomp' 'Whomp' of large metallic blades chopping through the air, breaking god knows what barriers. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized the unmistakable sound of rotors.
She keyed the radio, hoping to establish a connection with any friendly units in the vicinity.
[Raven One-Two] Raven One-Two to Raven Eleven, do you copy? Over.
Static. No response. The enemy might be jamming their communications, making coordination near impossible. But how the hell did they get close enough to jab their radio?
Unfortunately, Renko looked through her scope and saw the survivors of Osprey Two-Two as they barricaded inside one of the school rooms whilst a group of assailants pinned them down with heavy gunfire. She also saw one assailant fiddle with something on the back of one of the dead Ospreys... a 'jammer' she thought.
However, that didn't last very long as cracks sounded all along the block and the assailants started to fall one after the other. The rest of the raven flock was starting to get on with their tasks. But they had a bigger fish to fry right about now.
The 'whomps' grew louder and louder until that was all they could hear, moments later, the first helicopter whizzed past the building she was nesting on—a sleek, black silhouette against the gray ruins of the city. It wasn't just a chopper, it was a goddamned Gunship, loaded like of was Christmas Eve.
The first Gunship kicked up a dust storm as it passed them by, but that was the least of their problems because it was followed almost immediately by another and then another and another.
Renko knew they were fucked by the time the fourth gunship flew overhead, shaking the ground beneath her. She knew these heavily armed gunships spelled serious trouble, also that they weren't part of any routine sweeps; they meant escalating border conflict.
"Sarge, you see that?"
The Corporal asked, already packing up her binoculars and reaching for the Stinger.
Renko stopped her before she did anything foolish,
"Drop the stinger, those are Alligators."
She rose from her prone position and began packing up her gear. Alligators were notorious multi-role attack helicopters equipped with advanced sensors and anti-personnel weaponry, perfect for sweeping any ground forces and she had no intention of getting killed.
"Pack up, we're closing shop."
She packed up pretty quickly and so did the spotter, abandoning extra equipment for mobility. The Corporal was leaving behind the Stinger so that was 50 pounds less already.
Suddenly, her earpiece crackled to life with distorted signals, a voice issued the final command before radio silence:
[Raven One-One] Code Orange. I repeat, Code Orange. Forest Fire compromised. Prepare for heavy contact. Good Luck.
'Good luck my ass.'
Renko thought as she descended the stairs as fast as she could with all the baggage she was carrying despite leaving quite a bit behind. The Corporal caught up to her just below the first floor, she was strong and steady, it was her poor choice of gear that made her clumsy earlier.
"Ground troop inbound, east of Osprey Two-Two, near the old market square."
Renko leaned against the wall, using a much smaller optic to peek out through a hole, and confirmed the reading. Several figures were fast-roping down a Utility Helicopter that had followed after the Gunships, landing amidst the rubble and moving quickly to engage the Ospreys. Worst of all, she recognized the shoulder patches; Spec. Ops. of some sort.
"They're deploying spec-ops."
She muttered,
'Must be a heck of an important operation.'
A shot rang out somewhere in the vicinity and one of the figures clad in advanced combat armor crumpled to the ground with a fist-sized hole in its chest. The enemy troops scattered, taking cover and returning fire, though blindly as they hadn't exactly pinpointed the snipers' location yet. But the idiot just signed the death warrant for most of them,
"Fuck!"
One of the gunships shifted course, Renko and the Corporal ducked under an archway and dashed through the debris-laden courtyard, their boots crunching on shattered wood and fragmented concrete. The Gunship's rotors roared overhead, but not before a loud 'Brrrt' followed by the whistle of a rocket being launched.
"Keep moving!"
Renko hissed, casting a glance behind them. Smoke was coming out from one of the buildings about five blocks down the road, no point dying with suicidal maniacs.
They slipped into an alleyway, breaths heaving, adrenaline pumping. The alley was narrow and choked with debris, but it led further into the cluster of buildings. Renko switched to her sidearm, an old SR45, taking point and leading the way through the backstreet.
The battle was still raging on outside, she was sure of that, each distant explosion and gunshot reminded her of the fact. Renko signaled to the Corporal, and they rushed through the alley down to a partially intact building.
"Take the second floor,"
Renko instructed as they moved quickly up the emergency stairs,
"It's got a decent view of the streets."
They reached the second-floor emergency exit, the spot overlooked both the alley they had come from and the deserted main street beyond. The moment they stepped inside, chaos erupted. Simultaneously, the Corporal was struck by a combat knife, the blade slicing clean through her throat, while Renko instinctively fired two rounds into the armored head of the Special Ops soldier who had just taken out her newly assigned spotter.
Renko's senses blurred as an adrenaline-induced mania took over, her mind struggled to keep up with the rapid sequence of events. She didn't register any blood splatters as the Corporal struggled for air, her body acted on pure reflex, lifting the pistol and firing at the first target that entered her sight before registering that the Corporal had just staggered off the emergency stairs, falling two flights down to her certain demise.
The smell of gunpowder reached her nose before she realized what had just happened, also that the enemy was wearing an advanced ballistic helmet.
Renko's breath hitched as she assessed the situation. The enemy's helmet had absorbed most of the impact from the shots, leaving the assailant stunned from the aftershock. Without hesitation, Renko fired again and again and again, hitting the helmet each time.
As the armored figure staggered back and forth, Renko seized the opportunity to rush forward and slammed head-first into him. The impact sent them both sprawling across the floor. Pain shot through Renko's hand as she collided with the bulky figure.
Locked in a desperate struggle, she grappled with the figure underneath her. Their movements were wild and unpredictable, devoid of any semblance of the training they had once received. In that moment, all that remained was the raw, primal instinct for survival.
Renko was the first to recover, having most of her brain intact helped with that as opposed to the gongs ringing inside the ballistic helmet. She jabbed the muzzle under the figure's left arm and pressed the trigger. The resulting recoil sent the pistol hurtling across the floor while the Special Ops Soldier collapsed.
She panted heavily, the adrenaline rush stayed but knew it wouldn't last long, at least, long enough for exfiltration. She reached out, her hand trembling slightly as she slid one of the many blades strapped on the Special Ops' armor and slid it under his throat. The body twitched, telling her the decision was correct.
Renko searched his remains, finding a couple of combat knives, a radio, and nothing more. No firearm, not even a pistol.
'Some dumbass he was.'
The sound of rotors began to enter her ears again, this time it was more intense and coming from close by. The enemy must be on her heel, realizing that fact. she grabbed what she could and got up on her feet, searching for a route off the building. She ignored the sharp twigs of protest from her ribs, probably fractured, and shoved hard against the door leading to an adjacent room.
The door didn't give way and she had to kick again to make it budge, for christ's sake, there was a reason that despite being 6'2" and weighing 180 pounds, she wasn't a breacher. Believe it or not, she was relatively short compared to the rest of the troops.
Evolution's a bitch.
The door finally gave way and as she shoved her way through, her brain registered two things: First, there was no adjacent room, the place had long since crumbled and it was a death trap just like the one Corporal had experienced, and second, she was standing face to face with a 30mm Cannon... well, not exactly face-to-face but the distance wasn't large enough for the Gunship to miss,
"Well, shi-"
BANG! BANG! BANG!
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