Two days had passed since the pre-combat inspection, and the company was now awaiting a night's rest before landing on Roana. A uniform inspection, followed by a few more exercises, kept the unit confident and loose. The meal was more extravagant than usual, but considering their long journey and their landing tomorrow, Captain Moore thought it was well-suited.
The mess hall was small and cozy, more than enough to fit a few hundred personnel. All the soldiers of the Bravo Company ate their fill in the brightly lit grey-walled room lined with chairs and tables. Instead of eating in his quarters or with his fellow officers, the captain decided it was apt to mingle with his soldiers before the operation.
After spending the past ten minutes with Wells, he was starting to regret his decision.
"Steak, lobster, and eggs? Are we dying tomorrow?" Sergeant Zachary Wells asked.
Captain Moore held back the urge to roll his eyes while he sawed off a piece of steak. "Good chow is good chow. Looks like they finally listened to some of my recommendations after the stuff we've been given to eat for the past few weeks."
"You know what good chow means, sir. They've been giving us shit chow for the past week."
"It might have to do with the op tomorrow, yes."
"It definitely is. I didn't think they would expect us to die tomorrow."
"It's probably for morale, sergeant. Don't overthink it."
After a few grumbles, the pale NCO with stringy red hair wolfed down some eggs and muttered. "Yep, I can taste the saltpeter."
Captain Moore choked on a steak piece and pounded his chest while he coughed. After downing an entire glass of water, he glared at the sergeant. "Even if they did put saltpeter, which they don't, do you think it would stop the soldiers from trying to… you know?"
"Screw anything that moves, sir? Nah. Grunts like us would get hard even if we're being tortured. They would need something more potent or some shearing knives to really control our balls."
The other soldiers around them laughed at the free entertainment provided for them, quieting down after the captain made a point of staring them all down one by one. Even so, none of them missed the humorous look on the captain's face.
"Are you up for some football later, sir?" Sergeant Wells asked. "Some of the boys and I thought we could bash our heads on the ship one last time."
"I would like to take you up on that offer, but I have final preparations. You know how it goes."
Sergeant Wells munched on a lobster tail, shell and all, before replying. "Hell, what about Lieutenant Doe? Where is he anyways?"
"He's busy filling out some last-minute paperwork and his will."
"No shit, sir?" Wells asked with his jaws dropped, staring at the remaining lobster on his plate. "So I was right about this damn lobster!"
"I'm kidding." Captain Moore smiled. "About the will part, not the paperwork. He's also doing some final checks with the armorer."
"... You almost got me, sir."
"Your face said otherwise, sergeant."
The sergeant refused to humor him with a response and instead wiped his mouth with a napkin in an exaggerated manner. After finishing the final few bites, Sergeant Wells leaned back in his chair and picked his teeth with a fork. "I never got to ask, but did you snag Corporal Chen for the company?"
"Had to. She was the best radio operator I had ever seen on Nova. The lass can talk a mile a minute in the most soothing voice."
"No need to tell me twice, sir. I completely agree. Could've done with a good cook though."
"Our cook is great." Captain Moore glared at the sergeant while eyeing a figure in the corner of the chow hall. He pantomimed, zipping his mouth to Sergeant Wells, who understood immediately after following the captain's eyes. "I am interested in what kind of cuisine they have on Roana."
"If they have any red meat and seafood, I am set." Sergeant Wells burped. "Shit, I almost forgot how good steak was."
"The world is medieval, sergeant."
"Hell, nobles still ate their fill of meat, no? And we got plenty of goods and other shit to barter with."
Just then, Captain Moore's cell, a touch flip screen made by MobiFone, blared to life. He glanced at the caller and scrambled to pick up the phone. Out of habit, he stood up from his seat. "Sir."
"Captain Moore." General Bassot's gruff voice filled the captain's ears. "Plans have changed. Have your unit ready for deployment within the next hour."
"Yes, sir…" He hesitated before continuing, a noticeable wrinkle of annoyance appearing on his forehead. "May I ask what led to the change?"
"An unexpected opportunity has arisen which will lessen the danger to you and your unit. I have already informed Captain Blake and his unit. Head to Hanger Six by 2125."
After hearing the general's words, the captain's face softened while he nodded. "Understood, sir. I'll inform the men."
"Change of plans?" Sergeant Wells asked after the captain put his cell away.
"Full battle rattle. Get ready to step off in thirty."
Sergeant Wells shrugged. "Well, I probably wasn't going to sleep anyway."
Captain Moore powerwalked out of the hall with urgency. "Iris, can you…"
"Already done." The brunette popped out from the cell and hovered on his shoulder as a hologram. "What would you do without me?"
"A lot of texting and yelling, that's for sure."
"Anywho, we'll meet up with some of the synth scouts, right? Do you think I could ask them to transfer some information to me?"
"Probably not," Captain Moore said, zipping past a pair of soldiers before they could salute him. "Protocols, you know why. They need to be vetted and the such."
"Shucks… it was worth a shot. I'll still see the world from your GoPro, though."
"Let's hope I charged it this time."
Thirty minutes passed in a blur, and Captain Moore stood in front of his unit in full combat gear in the blink of an eye. He strapped the helmet tightly to his chin and swept his eyes through the two hundred soldiers under his command. "Listen up! We've been over this a hundred times, but I want to drill it into all of you at what is at stake.
"This world is not Earth or Nova. This world has magic! This world has races of non-humans that are intelligent, including the likes of elves and trolls. This world has creatures, monsters, that none of you have personally seen with your own two eyes. So there will be no fooling around, no acting like a tourist. We are here for one thing and one thing only: to complete our mission.
"Our mission remains the same: secure the landing zone and establish a perimeter. The timetable has been adjusted and sent to your respective platoon leaders. Changes have been made due to monsters suddenly clearing the drop zone, which should make our life a helluva a lot easier…"
"Where's the fun in that? I thought the whole point of this shit was to kill some monsters and get some badass trophies."
Captain Moore groaned and turned to face his Marine counterpart, his company watching the new arrivals silently. The tall, blond Marine officer, who had a long scar on his chin and wore aviator glasses, incessantly chewed gum while staring the captain down.
Though the Marine was wearing his long-sleeved combat uniform, Captain Moore knew he had a tattoo that said "Cindy" in hearts on his right forearm. His nose curled after whiffing a hint of vodka seeping from the Marine. Behind the blond officer stood the Third Marine Recon Force, emitting a hint of bloodlust but looking laxer than their army counterparts.
"Captain Blake… You're fashionably early."
"And you still have a stick up your ass after all this time."
Instead of continuing their conversation out in the open, Captain Moore lowered his voice and moved to the side with his counterpart. "I assume you know your mission, at least?"
"That's why I came early."
"You're ten minutes late."
"Whatever," Captain Blake scoffed. "All I know is that this mission got a shit ton more boring. No monsters? What's the point of sending me and my boys then?"
The Army captain stared at him incredulously, shaking his head and massaging his temples. "The area has cleared out to an extent, but there's a chance that we'll still have to shoot at some monsters. Just… don't go looking for trouble."
Captain Blake flashed a toothy grin. "No guarantees; I want to go hunting. I'm gonna be the first Marine to hunt a monster in this new world."
After a deep sigh, Captain Moore turned back to his soldiers. "File into the shuttles; we're stepping off."
"Hooah!"
As the soldiers marched to their respective shuttles, a high-pitched "Hooah!" was echoed by the Marines in a mocking tone. Captain Moore turned to see that Captain Blake also had his mouth open and was laughing. "Boys, show the pussies how to do a proper war cry!"
"OORAH!" the Marines rumbled.
Captain Moore ignored them and entered the lead shuttle at the edge of the hanger: a sleek BX-115 trans atmospheric shuttle. As he boarded, he noted that amongst the half a dozen BX-115s were two large BXM-90s, double the size of their BX counterparts, with a much larger capacity to carry vehicles.
He placed his equipment into a compartment below his seat and sank into the vinyl cover, tightly fastening the harness and seatbelt. His rifle, the XM12, was secured tightly between his thighs. Besides him, Lieutenant Doe shuddered and stared out the window with an unfocused glaze.
https://www.pinterest.com/pin/5559199530252743/
"You alright, lieutenant?" Captain Moore inquired.
"Somewhat. I hate flying."
"We were flying through space for the past two months."
"That's completely different, sir. And you know it."
"Just keep your mind off the fact that we're flying in a small shuttle through the void of space and searing through the atmosphere of a foreign planet…"
Lieutenant Doe glared at him, his face turning a hint of green. Captain Moore patted his shoulders and smiled. "Relax. There hasn't been a crash on this type of shuttle in years."
"Attention," a voice over the intercom rang out over the chatter within the cabin. "Fasten yourself into your seats and ensure all equipment is tightly secured in your feet compartments. We are off in one."
As the shuttle drifted into the air, Captain Moore placed some headphones on and looked out the window, noticing Lieutenant Doe grasp a wooden rosary tight between his hands. The cabin shook for a moment, a sudden jerk that pushed the shuttle out of the massive space carrier and sent it barreling towards the planet. The sudden movement prompted the lieutenant to move his lips like a man gasping for air, leaving the captain chuckling in silence.
The voice of Eminem rapping streams of lines thumped his eardrums as Captain Moore watched the beautiful blue and green planet, akin to Earth, fill his views. He smiled when they entered the atmosphere, and a familiar yet foreign canvas dotted with stars appeared out the window.
His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy.
There's vomit on his weather already, mom's spaghetti.