Captain Erwin Kane, Earth Alliance, Formally United States, navy, rushed into the Combat Information Center of his warship, the USS Alaska.

“Situation?” He said, as he sat down in the Big Chair of the ship, adjusting his uniform. Silence filled the room. After a pause, he repeated the command. “Someone tell me what the hell is going on out there!”

“Somebody just assassinated the Vers princess.” His Executive Officer, Alberich Kranz, said, his voice grave. “The Orbital Knights are starting to drop their castles.”

“Great.” Erwin muttered. “Franz Ferdinand all over again.”

“Not exactly.” Alberich said. “But the point stands. As of this moment, the Earth Alliance is at war.”

“Can we see the tracks of the Landing Castles?” Erwin asked.

“Yes, but we’d have to send up the comms mast.” The communications officer said.

“Make it so.” Erwin ordered. “I want to know exactly what cities they’re hitting and when they're due to make landfall, and I wanted to know yesterday.”

“Very well, sir.” The Tactical officer said. “Routing data to main screen now.”

A map of the world, devastated by the Heavens Fall fifteen years past, filled the screen. One by one, red tracks showing the descending Landing Castles. It appeared that nineteen of the thirty-seven in orbit were in the process of descending

“Calculating the estimated impact locations now.” The Tactical officer said. “And... We’re clear. Circular Error Probability is still over ten miles, but when you’re that big...”

He left the rest unsaid. Each Landing Castle was over two kilometers long.

The man zoomed in on North America. The Continent had been devastated worse than almost any other during the Heavens Fall, which was probably the only reason the old United States had signed on to the Earth Alliance. Both coasts were nearly uninhabited, life stretching mainly from the Rockies in the West to the Appalachians in the East.

Four red circles appeared on screen, denoting the possible landing sites of the Drop Castles. Denver, the new Capital following the complete destruction of Washington D.C., New Orleans, Old Chicago, and Montreal.

“Four of them...” Alberich muttered. “Damnit. That’s nearly ten percent of them.”

“Don’t count Space Command out just yet.” Erwin said. “I guarantee they won’t have a smooth ride down.”

“Those things are two kilometers long.” The Tactical officer said. “What the hell can we do to them?”

“Off the top of my head?” Erwin said. “I know one thing.”

The weapons officer turned to him. “You’re not seriously proposing...”

“I am.” Erwin said. “The planetfall nature of the assault on our nation offers a unique opportunity to destroy a significant portion of the forces assaulting us with a relatively small number of nuclear weapons.”

“But... They’re targeting our own cities with their castles!” The Communications Officer said. “Nuking them would inflict casualties on our own people!”

Erwin took a deep breath. “They’re already dead. I’ve run the numbers on those Drop Castles, and it will be like a nuke when they land. Everyone in those cities is already doomed.”

The Captain looked around the CIC of the submarine. “If there are no further questions, I will be leaving the bridge. Keep those castles on screen. XO, you have the deck.”

NUKE.ZERO

Erwin walked into the officer's lounge of the ballistic missile submarine. Leo Sandoval, the Political Officer of the vessel, was already there, waiting for him.

“Sit down, comrade.” Sandoval said, producing a bottle of vodka and two glasses from under the table. “I heard your discussion in the CIC. We have much to discuss, and little time.”

“I’m not even going to comment on that.” Erwin asked, tilting his head as he looked at the bottle the ship’s Commissar had procured, “but is this really the time to drink.”

Sandoval laughed. “I believe you may need something to fortify you. You have an important decision to make.”

“You could say that again.” Erwin said. “I need to decide whether or not to kill twenty million of our own civilians.”

The political officer poured a glass of vodka and took a sip. “It won’t be nearly that many after the castle hits.”

“So you think I should do it?”

“No.” Sandoval said. “But I believe you must do it.”

Erwin took a deep breath. “This is no time to be speaking in riddles.”

“I speak plainly. The course of action you wish to embark upon is both morally wrong and completely necessary. However, I will have no part in it.”

“But any launch, particularly a launch override, requires the consent of the ship’s political officer. If this course of action is necessary, why won’t you-”

“I took an oath to enforce the will of the Earth Alliance Government on this ship, and I will not betray that oath, or be party to these missile launches.”

“The how will I launch the missiles?” Erwin said, exasperated. “Do I just let the Martians march out of their castles onto my homeland?”

“If the Political officer is dead, the Captain and XO can perform a launch override.” Sandoval said calmly.

“What are you suggesting?” Erwin said warily. “Its not like you're going to just-”

Sandoval produced a piece of paper and a pen from his pocket and began to write a series of numbers and letters on it. “These are my launch codes. With these, you can launch the missiles, if you can get Alberich to go along with you.”

“But what are you-”

Erwin froze in horror as he watched the ship’s political officer produce a pistol.

“Remember me fondly.” Sandoval said. “I am an old man, with nothing left. I have no regrets.”

A single shot rang out.

Erwin watched as the Commissar crumpled to the floor. Shaking, he bent down and picked up the piece of paper with the commissar's launch codes.

He had work to do.

NUKE.ZERO

“We’ve chosen New Orleans as our target.” Alberich said, as he and Erwin walked through the corridors of the ship towards the room that housed the vessel’s missile controls.

“We?” Erwin said.

“I put together a group of sailors to determine which is the best target.” Alberich said, a grim frown on his face. “All hypothetical, of course. It seemed to be the best course of action.”

Erwin nodded, too engrossed in thought to respond.

“This time of year, the prevailing winds will blow most of the fallout out into the Gulf of Mexico.” Alberich said. “And it seemed best to concentrate all of our missiles against one target. We don’t have accurate intel on the durability of the Drop Castles, or what anti-missile abilities they’ll have.”

“Yes, yes.” Erwin said. “Very good.”

He had just watched the ship’s Political Officer, and a personal friend of his, commit suicide. It was only the responsibility of his position as captain and the weight of what he was about to do let his retain his composure.

The pair came to the missile control room. The two marines at the door saluted them, then stepped aside. Erwin and Alberich entered the control room.

Erwin reached into his pocket and removed the Launch Override Key from his pocket. He inserted it in the appropriate slot and turned as his Executive Officer began entering the launch codes.

After offering biometric confirmation of their identities and entering the launch codes, the slots covering two keyholes opened.

At the same time, the ship began to dive. Erwin and Alberich waited for a moment for the ship to level out, as it reached a depth from which communication would be impossible.

The launch override system was created in the event that a preemptive strike by the Orbital Knights rendered the Earth Alliance Government unable to issue missile launch instructions. It worked by sending out a secure coded communication pulse to Earth Alliance headquarters. If HQ was intact, a counter signal would be sent, and launch permission would be denied.

However, if HQ had been destroyed by an orbital strike, no counter signal would be sent, and the submarine would enter Launch Override status, in which the Captain had discretion over the launch of his weapons.

Of course, the ship had to be at communications depth for the launch override system to work, but Erwin had, for the past half hour, had his engineering team sabotaging all eight of the submarine’s official depth detectors, so the ship now though it was at only thirty meters from the surface, when in fact it was more than ten times that depth.

The communications pulse was absorbed by seawater. Fifteen minutes passed, and no counter signal was given.

The USS Alaska entered Launch Override.

Then came the tedious part. The wait. From orbit to ground, it would take about three hours for the Drop Castles to descend. An hour had passed since descent had begun, and from the Alaska’s current position in the North Atlantic, it would take about an hour for her missiles to reach New Orleans.

For the crew, the time was frantic. Missile techs had to calculate exact trajectories for their charges that would put them on target for a simultaneous airburst around the Drop Castle, just after it had landed, before it had any time to cool down or recover from the shock of impact.

Sailors with programing skills had to make adjustments to the flight software of the missiles, to use the weapons in ways they were never intended to be employed. In all, it was a miracle that the Alaska was ready to launch when the window opened at all.

In the missile control room, the time pass silently. Neither man present had any words for what they were about to do. It was a time of awful reflection and prayers for forgiveness. Eventually, the comms circuit crackled to life.

“Sirs?” One of the Missile Techs said. “We’re ready to launch, and two minutes out from the opening of the launch window.”

Erwin took a deep breath. “So.” He said. “It’s time.”

“Yes.”

Alberich walked over to the other keyhole revealed when the ship entered Launch Override. “Ready?”

Erwin nodded.

“On three, then?” Alberich said.

Erwin nodded again.

“One.”

Both men put the missile keys in position.

“Two.”

Erwin raised his key into position.

“Three.”

Alberich inserted his key and turned.

Within the bowels of the ship’s computers, subroutines activated, searching for authorization. They found it, and the ship went Weapons Free.

“I’ll be on the bridge.” Erwin said.

NUKE.ZERO

In the CIC of the Alaska, Erwin watched as the red lines representing the enemy Drop Castles inched closer and closer to their targets.

“Ready to launch.” A missile tech reported. “The necessary adjustments have been made to the missiles, and they should perform as desired.”

“Excellent.” Erwin said, hands gripping the armrests of his command chair with white knuckles. It was essential that he not appear weak now. The fate of the world could be resting on his shoulders.

He only wished he knew if he was saving or destroying it.

“If it means anything to you, sir,” the missile tech said, “I’m with you, sir, a hundred percent.”

Erwin smiled as he heard those words. They made his burden just a little bit lighter.

“Bring ship to launch depth!” Erwin commanded.

“Yes, sir!” The helmsman said. A shudder ran through the ship. “Vessel at launch depth, sir!”

“Commence launch.”

NUKE.ZERO

In the compartment of Trident III number 16 aboard the Alaska, an explosive charge detonated. The energy of the charge was channeled into a container of water, which vaporized instantly under the force of the explosion. The steam shot through a series of pipes into the chamber of the missile proper.

The force of the steam pushed against the container containing the missile, shooting it upwards through a water-tight membrane keeping out the weight of the ocean above.

Propelled by the force of the steam, the missile container shot upwards, piercing the ocean and emerging from the ironically tranquil surface, alongside twenty-three of it’s brothers.

The shroud on the missile split open as pyrotechnic bolts detonated, revealing the missile itself.

The primary motor engaged, and the rocket shot upwards into the sky, separating slightly from the others. It accelerated at an incredible pace. Had the missile had any eyes with which to see, the curvature of the earth would have become visible.

Trident-16 continued its ascent.

Within two minutes of launch, the third stage motor activated, the previous stage dropping away to earth, and the speed of the missile exceeded twenty thousand feet per second.

The sky faded from blue to black, a void lit by shining stars and distant harsh red glow of a descending Drop Castle.

The third stage disconnected from the missile fell away, and the star-sighting system activated. Nitrogen gas puffed into space as Trident-16 made minute corrections to its course to ensure maximum accuracy.

Trident Missile Number Sixteen drifted like that for a while. In truth, the missile was mostly gone now, having been dropped and burnt away, only the ‘bus’ containing the warheads visible. Trident-16 carried eight W88 warheads, each with the destructive power of four hundred and seventy-five thousand tons of TNT. It was a formidable weapon, one of the most versatile and destructive ever invented by mankind.

Trident Missile 16 took its final stellar observations, adjusted itself, then split open, discharging its eight warheads on their final re-entry vectors.

The warheads began to tilt downward and de-orbit. They contacted the atmosphere, but unlike a drop castle, they were slim and aerodynamic, and lost comparatively little velocity as they sliced through the air.

Miles and miles below them, the Drop Castle targeting New Orleans struck with the force of an atomic bomb.

In an instant, millions of human lives were extinguished by the massive overpressure wave created by impact. Structures collapsed and people were thrown like ragdolls from the force of the Drop Castle touching down.

The shock wave propagated upwards through the atmosphere, spreading out and weakening as the air thinned. By the time it reached the Alaska’s missiles in the upper reaches of the atmosphere, it was barely strong enough to jostle them off course.

Of the one-hundred and ninety two warheads deployed, two were destroyed outright by the shockwave as tiny mistakes in manufacturing conspired against the weapons. Fifty-six were knocked off course by the blast wave beyond the abilities of their guidance systems to compensate.

The last minute adjustments to their programing detected this and shut down the detonation procedures on their warheads. Twenty-six more missiles were not knocked off course, but their internal guidance systems believed they were, and their warheads were shut down.

The one hundred remaining projectiles continued to descend, the guidance systems of ninety nine of them correctly compensating for the shock wave. One veered off course, its warhead still live.

The projectiles deployed tiny fins and began to maneuver into a formation as they fell. They were programed to form two sets of two concentric rings around the Drop Castle and dentonantle simultaneously, for a maximum chance of destroying the enemy.

The warheads continued to descend, obscured from their target by the massive cloud of dust thrown up by its impact. Twenty-eight projectiles failed to fall into the proper formation, and their programing killed their warheads.

Seventy-one reentry vehicles were left as the lower ring plunged into the massive dust cloud kicked up by the impact of the Landing Castle. Six warheads suffered mechanical failures as the formation entered the cloud.

The Drop Castle below began to open up to commence its invasion of the Earth. Massive sections began unfolding from the sides of the descent vessel like the opening petals of a flower.

The warheads reached launch position.

Aboard the Alaska, Erwin watched as the timer to detonation reached zero.

“Fiat Lux.”

The effect of the surviving warheads was more than enough. They detonated at the same instant in a burst of nuclear hellfire. For miles around, anyone who survived the impact of the drop castle and was looking in the wrong direction at that moment was instantly and irreparably blinded.

As the flash of radiation passed, the shockwave formed a massive glowing dome, with the unfortunate Drop Castle in the center. The hull of the castle, already glowing red with the heat of atmospheric reentry, were flashed much hotter by the sudden burst of atomic radiation.

Then the shock wave struck. It tore into the Landing Castle, weakened by impact, like a can opener, waves of superheated air tearing into arcane defensive measures and brushing them aside like cobwebs before impacting the hull with incredible force.

The Drop Castle, a structure the size of a small mountain, crumpled as the shock waves smashed into it. ‘Petals’ were torn off as the shock wave ravaged it, and radiation flooded the interior as the bulkheads of the massive craft all failed at once.

As a distinctive mushroom cloud, the second of the day, rose over the grave of New Orleans, what was left of the drop castle began to topple.

It seemed to take an eternity to fall. It struck the ground with a crash, almost silent after the sound of its impact, instantly killing any survivors in the heart of the craft.

The cloud continued to billow upwards into the sky, and then quite returned the world, broken only by the now insignificant sounds of the crackling fires, funeral pyres of an entire nation of warriors, arrogant enough to invade they could invade a planet in complete safety.

Over it all, the broken moon continued to rise.

NUKE.ZERO

Ninety Minutes Earlier

Panic reigned in Earth Alliance Space Command North America. Four drop castles were falling toward the continent, and there seemed to be little anyone there could do about it.

General Marcus Von Braun walked onto what was referred to as the ‘Command Stage’ of the Space Command facility under Cheyenne mountain. “Status?” He shouted.

“We have four Drop Castles incoming.” A staff member said.

“Targets?”

“New Orleans, Denver, Old Chicago, and Montreal, sir.”

Marcus grit his teeth. “You already tried the anti-satellite weapons?”

“Yes, sir.” Another staff member said. “No effect.”

That made sense. The anti-satellite weapons were intended for taking down relatively small spacecraft and, of course, satellites. They had little chance of success against a two-kilometer-long battle station.

“Call up the Strategic Laser sites.” Marcus ordered. “Tell them to prepare for sustained firing.”

“We’ve run the numbers, sir. The lasers can’t pump enough energy to burn through the heat shields they’d have to have in time to make a difference, sir.”

“Shields plural?” Marcus said. “Have you tried focusing all the beams on one fortress?”

“No, sir, orders from Alliance Command were to-”

“I’m overriding that.” Marcus said softly. “Until the fortresses touch down, consult with me before following any orders from Alliance Command.”

“Can you do that, sir?”

“I’m your commanding officer, son. Let me sweat the details. Run those numbers again, this time focusing all the lasers on the fortress dropping on Denver. We must protect the capital.”

America, having suffered worse than most other developed nations during the Heavens Fall, had invested in a massive network of nuclear-powered strategic lasers designed to engage anything airborne below low orbit. They could be used to shoot down incoming asteroids, or enemy aerospace assets. America’s network of laser sites dwarfed that of any other nation in the Earth Alliance, and now it would be put to the test.

Several tense minutes passed as the base’s personnel and computers crunched the numbers and the Drop Castle drew closer and closer.

“Sir, it won’t be enough. We can’t burn through their heat shield.”

Marcus’ fist clenched. What else do I have? He thought. There’s got to be some way to amp up the lasers and... Amps! Electricity! Of course!

“When you made the calculations, did you add in overcharging the beams using civilian power supplies?”

“No, sir, we need Alliance Authority to do that.” The technician said. “We can’t do something that might endanger the lives of civilians without a direct command from the highest authority. You know that.”

“Are you an idiot?” Marcus said, a cool anger simmering in his voice. “That Landing Castle poses a threat to every civilian in the Greater Denver Area. We need to stop it.”

“But sir, if we do that-”

“Its on my orders!” Marcus shouted. “If they court martial you for it, tell them to blame me. Now, you will call the Strategic Laser Sites, and you will tell them to overcharge the beams using civilian power supplies.”

“Sir, do you have the authority to-”

“To save an entire city?” Marcus said coldly. “I believe that any good citizen has that authority.”

NUKE.ZERO

All around the Front Range Urban Corridor Strategic Laser Site, the lights shut off instantly as power was redirected into the massive banks of capacitors which fed the laser.

Almost instantly, hundreds of complaints were leveled, but critically, none of them them were sent to Space Command.

Power flowed into the capacitor banks at a much faster rate than normal as the output of all the surrounding power plants was channeled into them.

As the nearby authorities began to spool up auxiliary power supplies, the Strategic Laser fired for the first time.

The invisible infrared beam pierced the night, shooting toward the distant Drop Castle slicing through the atmosphere. An instant later, it was joined by a dozen of its fellows, all targeting different portions of the enemy fortress.

The beam from the Front Range Urban Corridor Strategic Laser Sight struck the Drop Castle near the tip of it’s drill-like frontal protrusion.

It seemed to have no effect. It superheated a few square meters of the surface of the station, but the hull was made of a material made to be superheated, and nothing seemed to happen.

The other lasers had similar effects.

A few seconds later, the laser emitted cycled and fired again. It was operating at a much higher intensity that its designers had intended, and it was all the laser site’s engineers could do to keep it from overheating.

As the lasers played across the surface of the Drop Castle, they were detected by sensor built into the hull of the craft, which noticed that the ablative material of the heat shield was vaporizing faster than it should have.

It was brought to the attention of the crew of the Castle, but they assumed they had underestimated the heating that would occur upon atmospheric entry. The heating was still within design tolerances, after all.

The Front Range Urban Corridor Strategic Laser Site cycled its beam emitters and fired once again, aiming for the same general point as three other Laser sites.

The beams fired, crossing in the wash of plasma surrounding their target and impacting within a few meters of each other. As they began to superheat and vaporize the hull material, something strange happened. As the beams burned into the material of the craft, they formed a pocket in the material of the Heat shield.

Plasma slammed into this pocket, further increasing the rate at which the hole was burned into the heat shielding. The lasers overheated and cut out, but the hole continued to grow.

The Strategic Lasers continued to beam truly insane amounts of energy at the descending drop castle. The one-sided battle raged for over fifteen minutes as the beams burned into the Drop Castle, which continued to grow closer and closer to its target city.

Meanwhile, in Space Command, a new and completely different series of alarms began to go off.

“Sir! We’re registering ballistic missile launch!” A technician shouted.

“Where?” Marcus demanded.

“North Atlantic. Location coordinates with the last know location of the Alaska, sir!”

“What the hell?” Marcus looked at the screen showing the Drop Castle descending toward Denver.

Space Command had every astronomy asset on the West coast they could get focused on it, trying to determine if the laser assault was having any effect. They were getting some weird readings on the plasma cloud surrounding the castle, but they didn’t have enough data to determine if it was due to their efforts.

“Put the incoming missile tracks on screen B.” Marcus ordered. “As soon as we know where the target is, tell me.”

The missile tracks appeared on screen. “Target appears to be New Orleans, sir!” A technician shouted.

Marcus glared at the inbound nuclear missiles, then the incoming Drop Castle. He took a deep breath. I hope you know what you’re playing at, Kane.

“Focus all fire on incoming Drop Castle. Leave the missiles alone.”

“But sir-”

“That city is already doomed. We need to focus on the people we can save.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Laser Sites, which had taken a brief break from firing to cycle their cooling systems, resumed their attack on the drop castle. Once more, lasers bit into the surface of its heat shield and began vaporizing material.

The beam from the Salt Lake Laser Site struck the drop castle. Nothing was remarkable about this particular beam, except that it was targeted at the point on the castle where four beams had previous converged. It shot into the hole burned into the drop castle by the convergence, and began superheating the base of the hole.

The heat radiated outward into the material of the heat shield surrounding the hole. It was now being heated from two vectors, and was deprived of a location to dump heat to. As the plasma vortex surrounding the hole intensified, the material surrounding the hole in the heat shield began to shake.

As it vibrated, tiny pieces of material began to detach from the shield, material that had not been vaporized, and thus was not carrying heat away from the hull of the drop castle.

The beam from the Salt Lake Laser Site cut out, but the damage had been done. The plasma vortex intensified, and larger chunks of material began to break off of the heat shield.

As the plasma vortex intensified, several notifications appeared on screens in Space Command.

“Sir! We’re reading the formation of a minor event on the surface of the Drop Castle!”

Marcus didn’t hesitate. “Focus all fire on that point!”

As the drop castle drew closer to the ground, the beams from twenty-one Strategic Lasers reached out and touched the Drop castle near where the plasma vortex was forming.

Material flashed to absurd temperatures under the conflux of beams. The heat shield began to overheat.

NUKE.ZERO

Alarms sounded on the command bridge of the Drop Castle. One of the technicians looked at his display and shouted. “Count! The Terrans are attempting something!”

“What is it?” Count Oggoth shouted.

“We’re detecting anomalous heating on the heat shield. We thought it was a natural occurrence, but its focus is all on one point now! It has to be some form of laser attack!”

“Commence evasive maneuvering.”

“Sir, evasive maneuvers would endanger the lives of every person on this vessel, and would vastly decrease our probability of hitting the target city!”

“You think I care?” Oggoth said. “We can’t avenge the princess if we’re dead. Begin maneuvering!”

Engines fired, and the Drop Castle began to shift in its course. The lasers tracked it, but as the castle fired secondary thrusters, they could no longer maintain the coordination required to pose a true threat to the Castle.

As the Castle continued to drop, one by one, the lasers had to cut off their attacks as their target fell below the horizon.

For the last minutes of its descent, the Castle fell unopposed. However, the damage had been done. Instead of landing in the middle of the Capital of the United States of North America, the castle vaporized a small town in the Rocky Mountains.

It was a tragedy, of course, but not nearly on the same scale as the destruction of Montreal, New Orleans, Old Chicago, or other cities across the globe.

Slowly, the three drop castles that had landed on North American soil began to open up and unpack their troops.

The War for Earth had begun.

NUKE.ZERO

As the hatches aboard the Alaska opened, MPs swarmed aboard the ship. As now Drop Castles had fallen in Iceland, where the ship had made port, they had nothing better to do.

Erwin raised his hands over his head as three MPs charged into his cabin and leveled their submachine guns at him.

“Take it easy, gentleman.” Erwin said said, staring down the MPs. “I’ll come quietly.”

“There he is.” One of the MPs whispered. “The Butcher of New Orleans.”

“You’re under arrest.” The lead MP, an older soldier, said. “Come with us.”

“Under what charges?” Erwin said, smiling.

“You damn well know.” The lead MP said. “You-”

“Everyone in that city was already dead.” Erwin said. “Do you really think what I did the wrong thing? Thanks to me, you’re fighting a war on three fronts, instead of four.”

“We are in the process of encircling the enemy. They are trapped.” The MP said. “They will be destroyed in short order.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Erwin said. “They aren’t trapped in our encirclements. We’re trapped on the same planet as them.”

“What do you mean?” The MP asked, sounding concerned.

“You clearly missed the First Interplanetary War.” Erwin said. “The only reason we managed not to be wiped out then was because the Heavens Fall cut off the Route between here and Mars. The Vers couldn’t carry their attack further, but make no mistake, they are superior to us, at least in terms of military technology.”

“But...” The MP now seemed nervous. “We have the Milita Program. We’ve built up our armies since then.”

“Sure, we have numbers, but will that be enough?” Erwin said. “I don’t know, but I’ve done my part. I’ll sit out this war in a jail cell. So, on what charges am I being arrested?”

“You launched missiles without orders.” The lead MP said. He seemed much less confident than he was when he first entered. “That’s a capital offense, regardless of circumstances.”

“Very well.” Erwin said. “I suppose they’ll execute me, then. It is, after all, no less than I deserve.”

NUKE.ZERO

Erwin sat on the cot in his prison cell, contemplating his own mortality. He had been flown back to the States right after the MPs pulled him off the Alaska, and then thrown in his present accommodations.

It wasn’t too bad, actually, if anything, it was a little bit boring. Waiting to be executed kinda sucked, but he had gone into it knowing what he was doing when he went into Launch Override.

Abruptly, the door of his cell began to slide open and a man walked it. Erwin recognized him; he was Gabriel Winters.

“Get off your ass, Kane!” The President of the United States shouted. “You think I’m going to let you sit out this war in a jail cell?”

Lee High school, Five Minutes After Impact

When the call came to assemble at Lee High School, ‘Staff Sergeant’ Michael Willison was already on the grounds. His father had woken him up when the news that the Vers princess had been assassinated broke, and the announcement that the Orbital Knights were dropping followed soon after.

With that knowledge, it wasn’t hard to anticipate the call-up. He had his father drop him off at the school, and waited on the front steps for the Militia Brigade that consisted of the student body to be called up.

Lee High School’s Militia Brigade was in a rather unique position. The children of a prominent Senator attended the school, so his patronage assured that the school’s Militia formation was nearly as well equiped as many regular Army formations.

For most of the students, that meant powered armor. As opposed to the Manned Humanoid Weapons widely used by most of the rest of the Earth Alliance, such as the KG-6 Sleipnir or the KG-7 Areion, the United States predominantly used a variety of Armored Combat Suits.

However, what the school’s supply boon meant for Michael was tanks. Michael was the commander of a M8A2 ‘Regan’ Main Battle Tank. Named for the first president to recognize and confront the threat of the Vers Empire, the Reagan clocked in at over 165 tons of devastatingly powerful weapons and armor.

The Reagan MBT looked vaguely like an upsized version of the old M1 Abrams, with several key differences. Firstly, it mounted a 175mm main gun to the 120mm of the pre-Vers Abrams. The Reagan carried enough armor to shrug off a hit from the 75mm gun used by the Sleipnir from all facings, and had a frontal glacis thick enough to resist considerably more powerful impacts.

The tank also had four 20mm autocannons mounted on corners of the vehicle, and eight beehive flechette launchers that made it a deadly proposition for unarmored infantry in the open, as well as serving as a defensive measure against RPGs and enemy sabot rounds. A rapid autoloader serviced the main gun, allowing for rapid firing. However, the loader position was occupied by a Secondary Weapons Operator, who controlled the secondary weapons, serviced the tank, and could replace one of the other crewmembers in combat.

The powerful and surprisingly efficient engine of the tank could propel it to high speeds on or off road, and was rated to allow the tank to carry up to 15 tons of extra gear, weapons, fuel or armor, or the tank could go light for extra speed.

Michael just hoped that it would mean shit against the Martians.

Michael himself was a tall young man, which occasionally gave him some trouble in the interior of his battle tank. He had bright green eyes, black hair, pale skin, and sharp features. In total, he looked every bit the part of a young commander.

As he finished his mental review of his tank’s capabilities, Michael opened his eyes to see Edward Rivers, his gunner, approaching him.

Edward was a boy of medium height, with chocolate brown eyes and soft features used to laughter. He stood, even on the eve of war, in a relaxed pose as he calmly greeted his friend and commander.

“Hey man. Pretty crazy what’s going on, huh?”

“Yes.” Michael said. “But we’re on duty, or soon going to be.”

“Ok, Commander.” Edward replied. “Part of me thinks this whole thing is going to blow over. I mean, interplanetary war? Really?”

“They hit New Orleans five minutes ago.” Michael muttered. “That’s one point three million people, probably all dead. That means war.”

“Shit, really?” Edward said.

Michael nodded.

“Man. They really are going to call us up. Where else did we get hit?”

“Old Chicago and Montreal have apparently gone off the net.” Michael said, his voice low. “That probably means they were hit. And observers in the rocky mountains report another Planetfall near there, but I don’t know where.”

“That’s four.” Edward said, incredulous. “Four. In this country. Do they know how badly we got knocked around during the Heavens Fall?”

“They had to fall somewhere. It may be that they are trying to seize the weaker nations first, to establish a base of operations.”

“Well, that’s depressing.” Edward said, slipping his hands into his pockets.

“Not necessarily.” Michael said. “It could mean they’re scared of us.”

“Well then,” a female voice said, “we’ll just have to show then they’re right to fear us.”

Both boys turned around. The speaker was Caroline, the driver and sole female member of Michael's tank crew. She was a short girl, and thus fit easily into the somewhat cramped driver’s seat of the Reagan MBT. Her tanned skin was at odds with her role as a tanker, and her features exuded confidence.

“I wouldn’t so much call it fear.” Michael said, speaking slowly. “Would you fear a few bees?”

“Well yeah.” Caroline said. Edward nodded as she spoke. “They could hurt you.”

“You would be afraid because they could hurt you, but not that they could kill you.” Michael explained softly. “I think that’s how the Vers Orbital Knights regard us. They don’t see us as an existential threat, not like they are to us.”

“Why not?” Edward said. “There can’t be more than a few hundred thousand of them in each landing castle. We have millions of soldiers in his country alone, not to mention tens of thousands of tanks and Cataphracts.”

“But what good would a million Roman legionaries, well trained and equipped soldiers of their day, do against fifty thousand of our best armored infantrymen?” Michael whispered.

Edward and Caroline paled. “You really think it’s that bad?”

“I don’t know.” Michael said. “And that’s part of the problem.”

“Hey guys!”

All three turned toward the new speaker. It was Jason Iwasaki, the Secondary Weapons Operator and final member of the tank crew. He was short, though taller than Caroline, and had dark manila skin, deep brown eyes, and jet-black hair.

“What is it?” Michael asked.

“We just nuked New Orleans.” Jason said excitedly. “One landing castle bites the dust!”

“Hell the fuck yeah!” Edward shouted. “That’s what you get for messing with America, you Red bastards!”

“Yeah!” Caroline said. “One down, thirty-six to go.”

“Is this confirmed?” Michael asked.

“Yeah, its coming in from hundreds of sources, and more every second.” Jason said. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and began to read. “Just saw another huge flash from the west and felt the ground shake. If that was nukes, I’m probably fucked.”

“Hardly the most reliable.” Michael said. “How do we know another castle didn’t just come down on New Orleans?”

Jason’s phone beeped.

“The government is issuing a radiation warning for all of Louisiana and Mississippi.” Jason said, not looking up from his phone. “More details will follow.”

Michael smiled. “That’s the best news I’ve gotten all day. This means our weapons work on them.”

“You thought they wouldn’t?” Jason asked.

“You just missed it.” Caroline said. “He was going all doom and gloom over here, saying we were going to get killed like cavemen facing our tank.”

“I didn’t say-”

“Whatever.” Caroline said, in a tone that allowed no discussion.

A bus pulled up in front of the school and began to disgorge students in their Military PT uniforms.

“Looks like the rest of the brigade is showing up.” Michael said. “We need to find the lieutenant.

NUKE.ZERO

Frederick, for the second time that night, climbed off the school bus. This time, he and the other students were unloading at the Fort Armstrong, the location where much of the 597th Militia Brigade’s equipment was stored.

Fredrick, like many of his classmates, was classified as an armored infantrymen. After considerable preparation in elementary and middle school, he was required to attend basic training the summer before freshman year. After that, he was considered a full member of the United States Army Militia.

From there, his experience became less typical. Because one off his classmates happened to be the son of a senator, Lee High School and the 597th Brigade had a surplus of Armored Combat Suits. Specifically, more than three thousand MS-10 General Infantry fighting suits.

As he walked toward the armory where his suit was stored, Frederick looked around, trying to spot any of his friends or squadmates. He didn’t see any.

Frederick entered the armory, which was laid out like the entrance to a pool, with a desk in front processing in the entering student soldiers, and a opening in the wall on either side, one for boys and one for girls.

Walking in the boys entrance, Frederick reflected on how lucky the students who had been chosen to be tankers were. They didn’t have to strip in front of their classmates.

As Frederick found the locker where his fighting suit was stored, he began to take off his shirt. He striped drown to his undergarments, then removed this undersuit from his locker. He took off his underwear and slipped unto the one-piece undersuit. It gripped his body like a glove, and was dotted with electrodes designed to help his body interface with his suit.

Frederick grimaced. It also helped with some rather embarrassing secondary functions of the Armored Combat Suit.

With his undersuit on, Frederick began putting on his fidgeting suit, starting from the bottom up, as his instructors had stressed. As he slid into his armored boots, Frederick considered the abilities of the suit he was putting on.

The MS-10 General Infantry fighting suit was, as the name implied, a standard Infantry fighting suit of the U.S. Army. Given the severe damage the U.S. had suffered during the Heavens Fall, it was not economically able to widely deploy Cataphracts like other nations. Instead, ACS infantry was used.

As Frederick put on his greves, he tapped the armored exterior of his suit. The MS-10 could stand up to most small arms fire with little to no damage, and greatly increased a soldier's chances of surviving an Artillery assault or other explosion. Beneath the armored exterior was a layer of ballistic fabric to prevent spalling, then a layer of synthetic muscles and servomotors which made the heavy suit seem to weigh no more than a summer t-shirt. They also boosted the wearer’s strength, allowing them to carry heavier weapons and more ammunition.

Frederick frowned as he fastened his pelvic section and codpiece in place. Some said that the United State’s Armored Combat Suits were not entirely human in origin. It was claimed that some Martian technology had gone into their development.

Frederick’s frown deepened, then reached into his locker, grabbed the back half of his breastplate, and heaved it out. It was possible that there was some Martian tech in his country’s ACS suits. In the 1980s, President Reagan adopted a harsher stance toward the Martians hoarding ancient technology, demanding more in exchange for use of space assets.

It was rumored that he had been given, or the CIA had stolen, some fragments of Aldnoah tech. Nothing had ever been confirmed, but if it was true, it would explain a lot about the incredible resilience of the MS-10 and other ACS fighting suits.

Frederick shrugged, something surprisingly difficult to do while wearing fully articulated powered armor, and began putting on his arm pieces. If there was alien tech in his suit, all the better. It would let him kill Martians that much easier.

Once he was fully suited up, Frederick grabbed his helmet out of his locker and began walking out of the armory to find his squad.

He passed out of the armory and into the moonlight. Student soldiers, all in full armor, were milling around, most holding their helmets under their arms. Behind them were a line of train cars, of the type used to transport armored soldiers, waiting to load the massing students of the 597th.

“Hey, Corporal!”

Frederick turned around. It was Sergeant Alica, his squad leader. She was standing which her hands on her hips, looking at him crosswise.

“What is it, Sarge?” Frederick asked.

“I’ve been looking all over for you people!” She said. “Do you think this is all a game? The Martians are invading, and its my responsibility if you go missing.”

“I was getting changed, Alica.” Frederick said.

“Fine.” The Sergeant said. “Where’s the rest of your fireteam?”

“Changing.” Frederick said. “I assume. They only started being my responsibility when we got here, and it’s a mess.”

Alica rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll send out a pulse.”

The squad leader raised her wrist and pressed two keys on her wrist computer. “That should call them here. So what’s going on, anyway?”

“You don’t know?” Frederick said, surprised. “Its all over the news.”

“I haven’t been paying attention to the news.” Alica said. “I just got the order to come here, and I showed up. I know the Orbital Knights are attacking, and that the Vers Princess got assassinated.”

“Well, the Knights crushed four cities, and now they’re invading.” Frederick said bluntly. “That’s four cities here in the states. Apparently its like nineteen worldwide. I’ve heard that we nuked them in New Orleans, but if that’s true, I don’t know why we didn’t do that everywhere.”

“Four Landing Castles, huh.” Alica said. “Which cities did they get?”

“Montreal, Old Chicago, and a little town somewhere near Denver.” Frederick explained. “Plus New Orleans, but I already told you that.”

“I wonder where we’re going to get sent.” Alica said, placing an armored finger on her chin, looking rather comical as she did so.

“Montreal or Chicago, probably.” Frederick guessed. “The rail lines run right up the Appalachian Mountains, and from there they could take us across the lakes to Chicago or north, to Montreal.”

Lee High School, and the attending Fort Armstrong, were located in the Virginia Administrative Area, part of the effort to recolonize the Eastern Seaboard, which had been largely depopulated following the Heavens Fall. The strike from the rock the reduced New York to the Gulf of New York had cast ash across the area, and the meteorite strike that gutted Baltimore killed many across northern Virginia. Smaller rocks rained down across the area, causing widespread devastation, and many people fled for the interior of the country, where the rain of Moon fragments was less intense.

The East Coast got off better than the West. A massive chunk of moon moving a high velocity struck San Francisco nearly dead-on, reducing a massive area to ocean and killing everything for miles. Several smaller hits occurred, and when the dust settled, few were left alive on the West Coast.

“I find it kinda funny that, in an age of spaceflight, we’re still moving troops by train.” Alica said, looking at the waiting train cars.

“If it works, don’t mess with it, I suppose.”

Alica nodded.

“There you are!”

Frederick and Alica turned. Approaching were the three remaining members of Frederick’s Fire Team. Chris, Jared, and Jefferson.

“You called?” Jefferson said. The tall-square faced soldier had blonde hair and brown eyes, and his armor sported several kits benefiting his role as team engineer.

“There you are.” Alicia said. “Do you know how long we've been waiting for you guys?”

“Yeah, well, the locker room was crowded.” Jared muttered. He was a boy of Asian extraction, though he would never be more specific than ‘Asia’. He was on the shorter side, but made up for it with ferocity in a fight. “I hear we’re about to load up.”

“Yeah, by the way, did you hear that the commander was visiting family in Old Chicago when the Drop Castles came down?” Chris said. The shortest member of Frederick’s Fire Team, his backplate carried the longer maglocks needed to carry the battle rifle to full his duty as the squad marksman. “Squashed him flatter than a pancake.”

“Well that’s unfortunate, losing our commander on the eve of war like that.” Frederick said. “Wonder where they’re going to find someone to replace him?”

“I don’t know, they might have bigger problems.” Jared said. “That might keep us out of the war for the first few days, or at least keep us in Strategic Reserve.”

“Maybe.” Alica said. “But it looks like we’re loading up. We want to get a good spot on the train, so we can get some sleep on the way.”

“God knows we’ll need it.” Frederick murmured.

NUKE.ZERO

“What do you mean, sir?” Erwin asked, looking at the President with disbelief. “I’m a dead man. I’m sitting out this war, either in a cell or in a grave.”

“You might end this war in a grave, Kane,” Gabriel Winters said, his tone bordering on shouting, “but not without doing some good for this country first.”

“What are you talking about, sir?” Erwin said. “I’m a submariner, and no boat would take me after what I’ve done. I-”

“Not in the Navy, fool! What did you do before that?”

“I was in the Army, but-”

“Exactly! And what do we need now more than good ground commanders?”

“Miracles?” Erwin said dryly.

The President reached into his pocket. “Well, if that the case, then I expect you

to provide them, Colonel.” He said, producing the rank insignia of a full Colonel.

Erwin was a man of Military habit, so he was reaching out to shake the President’s hand before he realized what the man had said.

“What do you mean, Colonel?” Erwin asked. “I’m a Navy man. I have been for twenty years.”

“Not anymore, unless you’d like to be executed.”

“Excuse me, sir?”

The President signed. “Do I have to spell everything out for you, Kane? I’m making you a very special offer. I’m reinstating your Army Commission as a Colonel and giving you a Brigade command. If you take my offer, I’ll postpone your trial till the end of the war. With a fight like this, that’ll be a lot of time. You never know what might happen in that time.”

“You’re promoting me... giving me a new command... and postponing my trial... because I nuked one of our own cities?” Erwin said, almost stuttering. “You know, men have been accused of genocide for killing fewer people than I probably did.”

The President shrugged. “I think the investigation will find most of them were already dead,” he said, “besides, I’m giving you a command and postponing your trial because we need good commanders right now.

Erwin sighed. He had taken an oath to protect and defend the Constitution of his country, and that oath was more to him than just lip service. He needed to do what was best for his nation and species. He stepped forward, shook the President’s hand, and accepted the insignia. “If I may ask, sir, what kind of command is it?”

“You’ll love it. It’s an ACS brigade, with organic armor.”

ACS. That meant experienced troops, well trained and seasoned, perhaps with a few NCOs who had served in the First Interplanetary War fifteen years ago. The unit would likely run itself, requiring only his minimum of intervention to keep it in peak shape. It would-

“One other thing.” The President said. “Its a Militia detachment. The 597th Militia Brigade. Good unit, fully equipped.” He smirked. “For now, at least.”

The dream shattered. Militia units varied in quality, ranging from terrible to merely mediocre. From his ground fighting experience, Erwin would trust most of them to hold a fixed position, but little more than that, particularly in aggressive maneuver warfare.

One of the biggest problems with the Militia units was the officers. It was hard to find good officer willing to work with what were essentially armed High School students, and thus most Militia formations suffered from sub-par commissioned leadership at all levels.

Which explained why he was being put in one. It was a brilliant move. It allowed the President to say he was punishing the party responsible for launching the nuclear attack on the Vers, possibly even putting him in a position where he could say the party responsible for the attack had been executed, without the loss of an asset that execution or detention would entail.

"Yes... sir.” Erwin said. Any other surprises? He thought.

“You’ll be flying out to join your unit outside Pittsburgh.” The President said. “There’s a plane waiting for you outside to take you there. The flight should take a little over two hours.

“Yes, sir.” Erwin responded. “Is that all?”

“Everything you need for the job should be waiting for you on the plane. I’ve left you files on the officer’s and senior NCOs you’ll be working with.”

“Yes, sir.” Erwin repeated.

“What are you waiting for, Colonel?” Gabriel shouted. “Get to your unit!”

Erwin saluted his commander-in-chief, who returned the salute and stepped smartly to the side. Taking a deep breath, Erwin stepped forward, out of captivity and back into the cauldron of command.

Supreme America Home Theater Command, Anchorage, Alaska

The supreme commanders of the United States Army sat down around a long table in Anchorage Bunker Five, a complex hundreds of feet underground and capable of resisting a direct hit from most everything short of a Landing Castle

Field Marshal Lance Slate stood up from his seat at the head of the table and looked down at his map of the country. Three models of Landing Castles stood upon the icons of destroyed and occupied cities, with a fourth, toppled, model on New Orleans. Various models representing U.S. and Canadian forces rested across the board in confronting numbers, but few of them were where they needed to be.

Given the threat posed by the enemy Drop Castles, concentrating too many forces in one place was off the table, and strongly garrisoning a major city was a good way of losing the garrison force. As a result, Alliance forces were spread out through minor bases and the countryside in Brigade and Divisional strength, with Corps and Army-level forces only now beginning to solidify.

“Okay, Gentlemen.” Lance said. “We’ve got a tricky situation on our hands. What’s our status, Colonel?”

The Colonel in question nodded and pointed at the board. “We have four landing castles on the Continent, three on American soil and one in Canada. One of the Landing Castles was destroyed by an unauthorized Nuclear launch, leaving two in U.S. territory. Casualty totals from the impact and nuclear detonations are not yet complete, but are estimated to be over three million.”

Lance winced. He had expected it to be bad, but three million was more than one percent of the surviving U.S. population. Losing that many people in one blow could be disastrous. And that was without a shot being fired.

“Vers forces are currently in the process of unloading and forming up in the impact zones of their Drop Castles. We don’t have satellite images of them, of course, but the recon drone images we could get over their LZs indicate over a hundred thousand of them per castle, plus their Cataphracts.” The Colonel explained. “We expect them to begin their offensive soon.”

Lance looked down at the board again. “Alright, people, this is what we’re going to do. Joint Chiefs are diving the Continent up into three Theaters. Colorado theater will consist of the 1st U.S. Army Group. Newcago Theater will consist of the 2nd U.S. Army Group. Quebec Theater will consist of the U.S. Seventh Army and the Canadian First and Second Armies.” He looked at his Canadian Counterpart, Field Marshall Anik. “Is that acceptable?”

The Canadian Field Marshall Nodded.

“My staff will draw up the exact borders of each Theater's Responsibility, but it should be fairly intuitive for now. The U.S. Eighth and Ninth Armies will be held in strategic reserve, as will the Canadian Third Army.”

Lance looked around the room. There appeared to be no dissenters. “Marshal Arthur, you will take command of Colorado Theater.”

Marshal Arthur stood up, turned toward Lance and saluted. “I will do my utmost.” He said.

“Marshall Lin, you will take command of Newcago Theater.”

Marshal Lin stood up next to Arthur and saluted. “I stake my reputation on victory.” She said.

“Field Marshal Anik, I assume that you will take command of Quebec Theater?”

Anik nodded. The short Inuit man was a consummate warrior, and a veteran of the First Installer War. He knew exactly what the Martians were capable of, and would not underestimate them.

“Remember, everyone, it’s possible we won’t just be facing the leftovers of the forces we battled last time, but also forces fresh from Vers. Don’t let your guards down.” Lance said.

Pittsburg, U.S.A., 2nd Army Group Staging Area, Two Hours Later

As the long train pulled into the staging area rail yard and slowed to a halt, Michael Wilson holded off the extra-wide car carrying his Regan MBT and into the camp. The rest of his tank crew followed him.

“So, this is Pittsburgh.” Edward said. “I always wanted to see it.”

“Not like this, though.” Caroline said. “I never thought it would come to open war.”

“Me neither.” Jason said quietly. “Shows how much we know.”

“Never as much as we think.” Michael finished.

Edward shrugged and began to stretch. “Still nice to have a chance to get out of the tank, through.

“You know we might have to live in that thing in the near future, right?” Caroline said, looking at him longways.

“When would that happen?” Edward asked.

“Have you been paying attention at all?” Caroline said, almost shouting. “What if the Martians deploy poison gas and we have to button up? We outnumber the Vers pretty badly, so they might try anything necessary to even the odds.”

“Why would they want to do that?” Michael whispered. “When the odds are already so far in their favor?”

“Do be so negative.” Jason said. “We outnumber them. They can’t be that technologically superior to us; we killed their crown prince or whatever in the First War.”

“Even so, I’m still concerned.” Michael said.

“That’s only natural; we’re going into combat.” Edwards said. “Everyone is worried going into combat.”

“I’m not sure I’d want to work in a tank with a commander who wasn’t nervous.” Caroline shot in.

“Great.” Michael groaned.

“Its not like we have everything riding on you or anything.” Caroline added.

“Actually, we do.” Jason said.

Michael put his palm on his forehead. “Thanks, guys.”

The quartet stood in silence for a moment. Then Michael's communicator beeped. He picked it off his belt and looked at it. “Sounds like our new commander has arrived.”

“Great.” Edwards said.

“He’s going to address all Brigade personnel in a few minutes near the supply depot.” Michael continued, looking at his device.

“We should hurry.” Jason said. “Maybe we can get to meet him.”

The four members of the group nodded and began walking deeper into the staging area, their black tanker uniforms standing out against the urban camouflage of their comrade’s fighting suits.

597th Brigade Staging Area, Five Minutes Later

Erwin stood up on the small rise before the assembled troops of his Regiment. They were organized by Battalion, with most of them wearing their fighting suits. Weapons had been issued to the soldiers on the train, and many of the students soldiers were armed as well. They carried heavy battle rifles that would have been considered light machine guns in another age, and almost all of them had at least one rocket launcher mag-locked to their backs.

The air of nervousness and fear was heavy in the air. These were not hardened soldiers, accustomed to the prospect of death on the battlefield. They were scared students. Accordingly, Erwin decided not to tell them that most of the Cataphract Corps, which had been committed as an early reaction force against the Martians, had been largely wiped out. Erwin had never placed much stock in the manned humanoid weapons, given the superiority of the enemy’s Cataphracts, but the loss was still disheartening.

However, the loss of the Cataphracts was not in vain. America had never invested heavily in Cataphracts, and even as superior as the Martians were, it still took time to chew through that many men and machines, buying critical time to move conventional forces into place.

Erwin supposed that it was time to give an inspiring speech to his men, to steel them for the coming battle. He had never been good at speeches.

“Ladies and Gentlemen.” He began, speaking over the common communication circuits of the fighting suits and the communicators of the tank crews. Soldiers hurriedly adjusted their devices to catch his words.

“Today, we stand at the beginning of the greatest war our nation and species have ever known. Our foe is both numerous and strong, bolstered by lost technology. Already, many have died facing them.” He paused for a moment. “But they are not invincible. I have unleashed the greatest weapons mankind has created against this invader of our home planet, bloodying them and destroying one of their invasion forces.”

Erwin paused again to let that sink in. He had destroyed an enemy landing castle, and they could be beaten. Admittedly, none of the fractured reports coming in from the rest of the world said the same, but the point still stood.

“Over a hundred thousand Martians lie dead on the surface of our planet, and now our forces mobilize to face the remainder of them. Our Brigade is armed with greater weapons than many of those who have gone before us in this battle, and our foe is proven to be vulnerable.”

Erwin took a deep breath. “Even now, they threaten our civilians. Reports of Martian butchery are coming in from all corners of the map, and we must stop them, to give time for our civilians to evacuate. We will be deploying to Newcago Theater, where we will fall under the command of Marshal Lin. We will meet the foe in battle, and we will overcome them. For we have no other choice.”

There was silence for a moment, then the clapping began. It was a strange sound, soldiers in Armored Combat Suits clapping, but it was comforting.

“We will be re-boarding our transports soon to travel to the combat zone. Tac-lasers will embark on flatbed cars to provide protect to the entire convoy. We will establish our own tactical network as we travel, as the Martians are jamming the normal network. We can’t guarantee air cover, so stay on your toes. Get some sleep before we get there, but have three persons stay on watch in each car.”

Erwin disconnected his comm circuit, then muttered, “for how can man die better than facing fearful odds, for the ashes of his fathers, and the temples of his Gods?”

First Wave Landing Castle Distribution

U.S.-3
Russia-2
China-2
Canada-1
India-1
Germany-1
France-1
Japan-1
Australia-1
Iran-1
Brazil-1
England-1
Mozambique-1
South Africa-1
Egypt-1

Total: 19

Erwin Kane looked over the latest reports from Newcago theater. It wasn’t good.

Over the six hours since the assault had commenced, across the three theaters the American and Canadian Cataphract Corps had virtually ceased to exist. The Martians were simply too overwhelmingly superior in that area. While both nations still had vast reserves of conventional forces, the rapid destruction of the Cataphract Corps spoke poorly of the ability of human technology to resist the invaders.

Now, the 597th Militia Brigade was less than an hour away from Newcago. They were tasked with holding the line against the Vers forces long enough for the civilians of the city to be safely evacuated from the path of the invaders.

Erwin put away the tablet he was reading his report on away. He had a few ideas on how to do that, but they would be risky, heavily dependent on deception and taking advantage of the arrogance the Vers commanders and pilots would hopefully be feeling after running roughshod over Earth’s forces for hours.

The door to his compartment on the transport train opened, and an unexpected face entered. Alberich Kranz, former Executive Officer of the USS Alaska, entered the compartment.

“Hello, Erwin.” Alberich said, closing the door behind him.

“Oh, Kranz,” Erwin said absently, not looking up from The Plan he was beginning to draft. He hadn’t been a ground commander for a long time, and had zero experience dealing with Cataphracts. It would take every ounce of the tactical genius he wasn’t at all sure he possessed to pull off anything against the Martians, and- “Kranz! What the hell are you doing here? Weren’t you supposed to be executed?”

“I could say the same of you, sir.” Alberich said dryly, looking at his present and former CO’s new uniform. Then he saluted. “I’ve been appointed your Brigade XO, if you’ll have me.”

“Fine, fine, sit down anywhere.” Erwin said, still not looking up. “We have a lot of work to do if we’re going to beat these bastards, and not a lot of time to do it.”

“I came here to inform you that the Tac-lasers you ordered on overwatch have shot down a Vers reconnaissance drone.” Alberich said. “A retrieval team has been dispatched, though given the amount of energy we had to beam into it’s hull, I don’t know if they’ll find anything.”

“You only show up now to tell me that?” Erwin said. “This train hasn’t slowed down to take on passengers, so you have to have been onboard since we left Pittsburgh.”

“How do you know I didn’t jump?”

Erwin gave him a long stare.

“Anyways, why are you only making your presence known to me now?” Erwin said. “I could have used you help this past hour.”

“The President ordered that I not make my presence know until we cross into the combat area. The Vers are fond of jamming and destroying coms equipment, so we probably couldn’t let anything slip, even if we wanted to, or so his logic goes.”

Erwin grunted. “Still. I have a few plans for facing the Vers in urban combat, but they’re all pretty risky.”

“I don’t think either of us are dangerously risk-averse.” Alberich said. “We’re proven that much already.”

“Fair enough.” Erwin said. “So, the first idea I have involves-”

“Don’t you want to meet the rest of your staff?” Alberich asked.

“Rest of my staff?”

“You don’t run a submarine with just one man, and a Brigade has a whole lot more people than a boomer.”

“I assume you have them waiting outside?” Erwin said.

Alberich nodded slightly.

“Send them in, then.”

“This is Aaron O’neal, your Command Sergeant Major.” Alberich said.

Aaron entered. He was a clean-cut man who oozed the image of a veteran Centurion.

“Hello, Colonel Kane.” He said, as he walked towards Erwin’s desk and extended his hand. “I believe it will be a pleasure to work with you, sir.”

Aaron performed a smooth about-face and walked back to the corner of the room, where he stood facing straight ahead.

So he is like my Chief of Boat. Erwin thought. The senior enlisted man in the unit. I run the Brigade, but he runs the men. Best not to forget that.

“Next, we have Stefan Weathington, your Personnel Officer, or S1.” Alberich said, gesturing to the door.

Another officer entered, wearing the insignia of a Major. “Hello, sir. I’m glad to be working with you.” He said, not approaching Erwin’s desk.

“And now we have Johnny Glenn, your intelligence officer, or your S2.”

Another man entered bearing the marks of a Major entered, this one short, with raven black hair and pale skin. He approached Erwin’s desk and placed a flash drive on it. “The latest reports of the Vers force distributions.” He said.

“How did you know I wanted these?” Erwin asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re a planner. You like to be informed.” Johnny said simply. When Erwin tilted his head, he said, “I like to be informed too.”

“Fair enough.” Erwin said,

Johnny retreated to the back of the room, where he assumed a somewhat less perfect parade rest stance than the other officers.

“Next is Evangeline Wagner, your Plans and Operations officer, S3/S5.” Alberich said.

A tall blonde woman with her hair done in a small bun entered the room. She walked towards Erwin’s desk with quick, measured steps, and held out her hand.

“I anticipate it being a pleasure to work with you.” She said, bright green eyes locking on to Erwin. “I hope our time together will be productive.”

“Likewise.” Erwin said, shaking her hand. She had a perfectly firm grip, as though she had practiced shaking hands extensively before.

Evangeline turned around and began walking towards the back of the room. Her gaze fell on Johnny for a moment, and he straightened his stance. She shook her head slightly and returned to the back of the room.

“Now we have Vince Becker, your Logistics Officer.” Alberich said.

Vince entered the room. He seemed to saunter as he entered. He was a shorter man, with greasy black hair. He approached Erwin’s desk casually and put down a slip of paper.

“Nice to meet you, Colonel.” He said. “I found three hundred extra Dragon-II missile launchers in depot before we left Pittsburgh, but if we could expend them quickly, that would be great.”

“We... weren’t issued any Dragon-II launchers.” Erwin said. “Where did you-”

“Hench the need to expend them quickly.” Vince muttered. “Sir.”

Erwin closed his eyes. “Very well.”

Vince walked to the back of the room, glancing quickly at Evangeline. She shook her head.

“Last, we have Samuel Mantel, your communications officer.” Alberich said

Another man entered the room. He was an African-America man of medium height, with close-cropped dark hair. He looked around slowly, then approached Erwin.

“Hello.” He said, holding out his hand. “Glad to make your acquaintance.”

“Thank you.” Erwin said.

“I have nothing to report at this time, beyond the fact that we’ve lost most intercontinental communications and that the Vers are jamming heavily.” Samuel said. “I hope to be of service, Colonel.”

“You can call me Erwin.” Erwin said. “Everyone else does.”

“Very well, Erwin, sir.” Samuel said, nodding.

A frown flickered across Evangeline’s face. Erwin glanced toward her, but she had already suppressed the expression.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, we have quite a situation on our hands.” Erwin began. “The Cataphract corps have been wiped out, without scoring a single confirmed kill on the enemy Cataphract. It’s our job to change that. I’m open to suggestions.”

“What do we know about their capabilities, sir?” Evangeline asked.

“The enemy mechs demonstrate a variety of different abilities.” Johnny said, stepping forward. “We are having a hard time compiling a list, given the communications jamming, but confirmed abilities include vaporizing material on contact, electrical generation, energy tentacles, force blades and others.”

“The enemy is also fond of disrupting our command and control systems via jamming.” Samuel said. “That helped them disrupt the operation of the Cataphract Corps and take them apart piecemeal.”

“The enemy combat systems are very durable.” Evangeline added. “We have observed this first hand when destroying their observation drone.”

“So, concentration of forces will be essential.” Erwin said, clenching his fist. “We need to hit them with everything we've got in one place if we want a chance to win this thing. What are we looking at in terms of air support and assents?”

“Very little.” Johnny said. “They own the skies above the horizon of their landing castle, and we’re lost dozens of planes and drones trying to fight them there. Not to mention that their aircraft are just as crazy good as their Cataphracts.”

“However, they don’t seen to be very keen on ground attack.” Stefan shot in. “That’s keeping morale among troops at the front from being as low as it otherwise would be. Also, if they have artillery, they haven’t rolled it out yet.”

Erwin took out a piece of paper and put in on his desk. He drew a pen from his pocket and wrote down concentration of forces, no air cover, and big guns never fire.

“So, once we get to Newcago, what’s our mission?” Erwin asked. He already knew what it was, of course, but he figured he needed to get the discussion on track.

“We are to assume a position between and ahead of the lines of the 74th and 75th divisions and engage the enemy in skirmishing operations.” Aaron announced. “We have considerable operational freedom, as long as what we do slows down the advance of the Martians.”

“So we’re a picket?” Alberich said.

“It would appear so.” Samuel replied.

“Kamikaze picket ships in World War Two.” Alberich said. “Do you have any idea the kind of casualties they sustained?”

“I think high casualties are a given at this point.” Erwin said softly.

“That’s the sort of attitude that tends to get a lot of people killed in a commander.” Stefan warned.

“I’m not sure that my attitude really matters here, Major.” Erwin said. “That notwithstanding, we need a plan.”

“First, let’s examine the terrain we will be fighting on.” Evangeline said.

Erwin wrote use terrain on his sheet.

“Excellent idea.” Erwin said, unrolling a map on his desk. His staff approached, and took up positions around the table.

Newcago was near the southern tip of Lake Illinois, which had expanded somewhat following the Heavens Fall. The 597th Brigade would be deployed west of the city, in Suburban terrain.

The collected staff officers looked at the map.

“Feel free to point it out if you see anything, because I don’t.” Alberich said after a moment.

“There is a general upward slant to the ground across our area of operation.” Aaron answered.

“Great. Now how do we use that?” Erwin said. “And while we think about that, another thing to consider is that we’re fighting in a suburban area interspersed with light woodlands. Do we demolish the houses in our AO or not?”

“I’d say we don’t.” Aaron said. “They give our infantry some cover, and you know how hard it is to dug ACS infantry out of cover.”

“Agreed.” Stefan said. “Demolishing them would be time and labor intensive, and would distract our troops from the task of digging in, which could be essential.”

The present officers all looked at the map for a few moments more.

“What if we put our Main Line of Resistance here,” Erwin said, tracing his finger across the map, “and our headquarters here.” He tapped a large shopping center.

“That’s awfully close to the front.” Vince said. “We’d be one artillery shell away from losing Brigade command.”

“Yes, but we will also be able to coordinate our forces effectively.” Erwin said. “Johnny, do you have the numbers on the Vers jamming?”

“Of course, sir.” Johnny said, making an elaborate bow. “The enemy jamming strength is .38 jigawatts per kilometer cubed per second squared.”

Erwin looked at Samuel expectantly.

“Aw, wingnuts.” Samuel swore. “He’s right. With the wireless transmitters we have on hand, we need to be close to communicate effectively.”

“Hence my choice of HQ.” Erwin said. “At that range we can burn through their jamming, and the Vers don’t make heavy use of artillery anyways, and we’ve got a whole battalion for counter battery fire.”

“Very well, sir.” Evangeline said. “What of our formation? I assume entrenched infantry with the tanks as a mobile reserve?”

Erwin tapped the sheet he had been writing on and smiled. “Not at all.” He said.

Thirty Minutes Later

Michael threw his cards down. “I fold.” He said.

“Aww, come on, man.” Edwards said. “That was a pretty good hand.”

“I don’t know.” Michael said. “Is it really worth the risk? It’s not that good a hand.”

“It was worth the risk.” Caroline said, showing her hand. It was terrible. “Sometimes you’ve got to roll the dice. The enemy always has problems, too. You just don’t always see them.”

“Alright, but how does that help me now?” Michael said. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m out of money.”

“You’ve still got plenty.” Jason said. “You make more than any of us, now that we’re actually getting paid for this shit.”

“Yes, but I’m not gambling any more of it.” Michael said. “You always hold something back.”

“Fair point.” Caroline responded.

The quartet were sitting on the turret of their tank, playing poker. They were all wearing their battle dress uniforms (armor) in expectation of the coming contact with the enemy.The uniform was a comfortable yet durable ballistic fabric perfect for operating in the cramped interior of the tank, and able to protect its wearer from minor spalling into the interior of the armored vehicle. Each had a belt tether securing them to the short railing on the edge of the main hatch of the tank, on the off chance they fell off.

Wind whipped their faces from the speed of the train’s passage, and the scenery of northern Indiana flashed by them. The land here still bore some scars of the Heavens Fall, but had mostly recovered from the disaster that had devastated the world.

That was soon to change.

“So, what do you think we’re going to run into out there?” Edwards asked, lying down and resting his head on the slightly elevated battle of the main gun.

“I have no idea.” Michael said softly, just loud enough to be heard over the wind. “Do you guys really think we’re going to make it out of this?”

“I have no idea.” Caroline said. “But I don’t think it matters.”

“What do you mean?” Jason asked.

“I mean, we have no choice but to fight.” Caroline explained. “A few nutjobs decided to kill their princess, so the Vers decided to kill us all. That means-”

“Actually,” Michael said. “I think the princess thing was just a pretext. They would have invaded us eventually.”

“I don’t think that matters.” Caroline continued. “What matters is that they invaded us. We as a species have no choice but to fight. That means that we as individuals must fight, or take the chance that someone else will fight to protect us.”

“If we fight, we may die.” Michael said. “But if we don’t fight, we will die. That’s what you’re saying, right?”

“Yeah.” Caroline said. “And I, for one, will not go quietly into the darkness. Hell, I’m not going into that good night at all this year. I’m going to go to war, kick those Martian bastards asses, and live to tell the story to my grandchildren. That, or get piss drunk. I still haven’t decided.”

The was a momentary pause, then the rest of the tank crew started laughing.

“What?” Caroline demanded, looking at her comrades one after another. “What the hell are you all laughing at?”

“Nothing.” Michael said, then began gathering the cards up. “I think we’re almost at our destination. Let’s wrap up the games at make sure we’re prepared for battle.”

NUKE.ZERO

Fredrick checked the seals on his suit for the upteentith time. There was no telling if the Vers might deploy chemical weapons, and he didn’t want to melt in his armored shell if they did.

His seals checked out, just as they had the past five checks. With a sigh, Frederick began his armor integrity checking. It was probably too late to get a replacement plate if something was wrong with one of his, but it would be nice to know.

“Hey, Corporal.” Jefferson said. “What’s the latest?”

“Don’t you get the Brigade command feed?” Frederick asked, “I mean, we all see the same stuff.”

“Yeah, but some of it is rank-restricted.” Jefferson said. “I mean, its not like anyone actually keeps that stuff secret, but if you-”

“We’re here.” Frederick announced, as the train began to come to a stop. “That’s probably what’s on the tactical feed right about now.”

“Shit, seriously?” Jefferson said. He began patting the mag-clamps holding the various trappings of his engineering trade to his suit. “Where are we headed?”

“Forward skirmish line.” Alica said, as she walked into the compartment, carrying two boxes like oversized suitcases. The sergeant had her helmet on, and was speaking through the voice projection systems of the fighting suit. “I don’t know what that entails, but I doubt it’ll be good. Frederick, take one of these.” She passed him one of the boxes she was carrying.

“What is it?” Frederick asked, taking the case.

“Its a Dragon-II ACGM.” Alica responded casually. “I got it from Brigade command. They were handing the things out in the logistics car.”

“I thought we weren’t-” Frederick began, but Alica cut him off.

“One of the conditions of taking them was no questions.” Alica said. “I have no idea where he got them, but they’re a serious improvement on the Wyverns we’ve been issued. It was one per squad, but when I told them we were on the forward skirmish line, they gave me another.”

Jefferson gulped. “That doesn't seem like a good sign.”

“No, it doesn't.” Frederick said. “But I’m glad for the extra firepower.”

“Amen to that.” Alica said.

NUKE.ZERO

With a crash, 165-odd tons of M8A2 ‘Regan’ Main Battle Tank crashed through the barrier separating the suburban rail station’s platform from its parking lot. Caroline skillfully negotiated the small hill leading to the parking lot and took the tank onto level ground. Unfortunately, she failed to account for the extra kinetic energy gained by sliding down the hill, and the tank continued forward a few feet extra, smashing into a red sports car left behind in the evacuation of the area.

Caroline shrugged, and before Michael could give an order to the contrary, she gunned the engine, and sent the massive tank climbing over the civilian car, crushing it under the left tread.

“The Vers did that.” She said quickly, as Michael shot her a look. “What? If they hadn’t invaded, then I wouldn’t be driving this tank here, and that car wouldn’t have been there, and we never would have met.”

Michael sighed. “It was probably in the way anyhow.”

“All systems report status as normal.” Jason said. “No offence commander, but the girl was sort of designed to do that.”

“If we weren’t at war right now, you’d be in such big trouble.” Michael said, still looking at caroline, who was holding her driving controls with an innocent look on her face.

“Why do you think she did it?” Edwards asked, not looking away from his gun controls. “I mean, I’d take out that house over there if I could. Stupid pink shutters.”

“If we survive this thing, I’ll consider letting you follow through on that.” Michael said. “Anyway, we need to get into position.”

“Aye Aye, commander.” Caroline said. “Leave it to me.”

The tank rolled forward again, just as a self-propelled gun rolled down the slope. The gun rotated and began to drive in a different direction, Caroline just barely moving the massive tank clear of the long barrel of the 185mm howitzer of the ‘Cochise’ self-propelled gun.

The tank began rolling slowing through the parking lot, following the directions of a flag-waving man on foot.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Caroline asked, following the flag-waver.

“The right flank of the MLR.” Michael answered. “Not sure what we’re doing there, though. Brigade command is playing their cards pretty close to their chests on this one.”

“Spoken like a true veteran.” Caroline said. “Oh, wait.”

“There’s no need for that.” Michael said. “Besides, they usually told us a bit more when we were on maneuvers.”

“Well, on maneuvers we didn’t have to worry about Grant sending over spies, did we?” Caroline said. “Who knows who could be on the Vers payroll? You could be a traitor, commander!”

“I highly doubt that.” Michael said, as the tank rolled out of the parking lot and into a suburban street.

Thirty Minutes Later

So, what are we doing here?” Tyrone asked, looking through the sight of his battle rifle again.

“We’re on the lookout for Martian forces.” Alica said. “And why do you have your rifle out? Its not like we’re going to run into any Vers infantry this far out.”

“I thought the book said to screen Cataphract advances with Armored infantry.” Tyrone said. “Otherwise, they’re vulnerable to exactly what we’re doing right now.”

“That’s our book.” Frederick said, looking down the sight of the Dragon-II missile launcher. “I think the Martians have a different one. Besides, they have so few infantry compared to us, I don’t think they can afford to waste them on assaults. That’s what their Cats are for.”

“Besides, do the Martians even have armored infantry?” Alica said. “I couldn’t get a straight answer out of the intel guy.”

“I guess that means he doesn't know.” Frederick said.

“I wonder what they’re going to come at us with.” Tyrone said, switching weapons to his Wyvern missile launcher. “I mean, from with they hit the Cat Corps with, it could be anything.”

“Best stay on guard, then.” Alica responded, shifting positions.

The three soldiers were lying on the roof of a house, with the peak of the roof between them and the predicted axis of the Vers advance. The drop to the ground was no problem for the armored soldiers, and the position allowed them to see farther without compromising cover. The rest of the squad, and the rest of ‘A’ company, first Battalion, 597th Militia Brigade, was scattered in similar positions along the street.

The problem was, the Company was only three hundred soldiers, scattered along the entire Forward Skirmish Line. It simply wasn’t enough to effectively garrison all the available fighting positions, or put out the overwhelming number of missiles everyone was expecting to be necessary to take down a Martian Cataphract.

But there was nothing the trio could do. With everything out of their hands, they waited.

NUKE.ZERO

The Viper-10 Unmanned Aerial Combat Vehicle floated over Lake Erie, electronic ‘eyes’ peeled. The drone was primarily intended as an aerial combat platform, but its small size, stealth, and expendability made it an ideal scouting vehicle against the Vers Empire.

As the drone floated, the operator, Lieutenant Harris,from his operations bunker in Newcago, spotted five high temperature signatures moving some distance inland from the shore of the lake. He manipulated his controls, and the drone rolled over and launched a radar beacon, which began an active search radar broadcast. Five sharp signatures became distinct against the ground clutter.

Cataphracts.

Lieutenant Harris logged the contacts, then armed his Hellfire-V missiles. He was free to engage targets detected, but given the defensive abilities of Vers Cataphracts, doing so would likely cost him his drone. However, the ground-pounders in the area needed those targets softened up, and his hellfires could do that better than almost anything they carried.

As Lieutenant Harris prepared to attack, a beam of light lanced upwards from one of the Vers Cataphracts, narrowly missing his aircraft.

Harris swore, rolled his aircraft out of the way, and discharged a cloud of chaff. Frantically, he targeted the largest of the enemy Cataphracts, a sixteen meter monstrosity, with his fire control radar. As he did so, a second ray of light shot upwards, searing through his could of chaff.

The tone of his fire-control radar changed, and Lieutenant Harris pressed the firing stud on his control handset.

One after another, six Hellfire-V missiles ripple fired from Lieutenant Harris’ aircraft. A fraction of an instant later, a third beam reached up and speared the Viper-10 drone, taking it out of the fight.

As Harris swore and threw off his headset, the rockets he had launched continued down toward the targeted Cataphract. One missile lost its lock and streaked away from the target, but the others bored straight in on the target and struck home.

A missile struck the machine in the shoulder, two struck in the chest, one hit the upper thigh, and one, amusingly enough, struck the Cataphract full in the face, extinguishing one of its glowing eyes.

None of the missiles penetrated the armor of the machine, but they did damage it. More importantly, the location and bearing of the Vers forces had been recorded, and a warning was sent to forces on the ground.

The Air force had no further available assets in the area. It was up to them now.

Fifteen Minutes Later

Frederick looked down as his wrist communicator beeped. “They’re coming!” He announced.

Alica and Tyrone looked down at their devices. “Five Cataphracts.” Alica read. “Coming this way.”

Tyrone hefted his missile launcher. “What’s their ETA?” He asked, glancing westwards.

“Thirty minutes,” Alica said, “Assuming they didn’t change speeds when they realized they’d been spotted.”

Great, Frederick thought, the waiting game. Wonderful.

The soldiers checked their missiles one more time, then waited for the coming storm.

Twenty-Five Minutes Later

As the massive MBT rolled out of the hull-down position where it had waited, Michael gave a command. The autoloader whirred to life and slammed a eighty-kilogram shell into the breach of the main gun.

Michael took a deep breath as the engine of the tank reved. Am I about to die? He wondered. The Tank had thick armor made of the latest composites, but the Vers had powerful weapons and the fuel of the tank burned hot.

Michael tried to reassure himself. The Tank possessed numerous defensive measures. It was equipped with Integrated Space Armor, with the gaps built into the hull in the armor filled with a heat-resistant foam. It the tank was struck by a thermal attack, such as a Vers laser weapon, the beam would have to burn through the outer layer of armor. Then, it would be scattered and diffused by the gas given off as it vaporized the foam, meaning that it would have to burn through a larger cross-section of the next layer of armor. After repeating that process several times, the beam would have to make it through the layer of carbon composite surrounding the crew compartment.

That wasn’t all. The flechette launchers that covered the surface of the tank could be discharged in waves by the tank’s onboard computer to shred incoming missiles or knock solid projectiles off target before they hit the tank, making the heavy layers of armor geometrically more effective. Jason was a hotshot with the defensive weapons. Michael tried to tell himself that he was in a safer place than almost anyone else on the front.

I must not fear. Michael though. Fear was counterproductive and would inhibit him from being able to complete his mission to the best of his ability.

That could get him killed.

The radio crackled to life. “All tanks, roll out. Good luck and Godspeed.”

“That was the Brigade Commander.” Edwards said.

“You heard the man.” Michael said, sitting back in his command chair as he pushed back on the fear nipping in from the edges of his consciousness. “It’s time to move out. Caroline, do your thing."

“Aye aye, commander.” She said, grabbing her controls.

“Standing ready to engage targets.” Edwards said, “Anti-Kat round loaded and ready.”

Michael looked around the crew compartment of the tank as rocked forward. He had a good team with him. He would make it through this.

NUKE.ZERO

Erwin looked over his tactical map They had relocated from the train too quickly to move the bulky holotable into the makeshift command center, so they were back to using a roll-up map with miniatures on it.

He took a deep breath as an attent received a phone call, then scurried over to move several miniatures slightly on the board.

“Sir.” Another attendant said. “The Tac-lasers have picked up another Vers recon drone on their radar nets. Shall we engage?”

“Burn it down.” Erwin said. “We can’t let them get images of our Main Line of Resistance.”

“The attendant listened on the phone for a second, then said, “engaging.”

A miniature representing the Vers recon drone was placed on the table. For a few terse seconds, no one said anything. Then the attendant said, “target destroyed.”

Erwin let out his breath. “Did they get an image of our MLR?”

“I don’t know.” The attendant said. “Based purely on the geometry, they could have, but there is a significant amount of ground cover in the way, so it is entirely possible that they didn’t see anything.”

Erwin grunted. “Tell the Tac-lasers to keep a lookout for any more recon drones. That was too close for comfort. Also tell them they don’t need my permission to engage next time. What is the status of the enemy Cataphracts?”

“Approaching.” Johnny said, entering the basement of the mall where Erwin had placed his command center. “We don’t know exactly where they are, but they’re close.”

“And what is the status of our forces?”

“Very good, sir.” Evangeline said. She hadn’t left the command center since the affair had started. “All units are in position and awaiting your command or the arrival of enemy forces.”

“It won’t be long now.” Erwin said. “Tell Artillery to lay down a smoke screen over our MLR. We want to convince the Vers we’re there in force.”

“Commencing.” The attendant said.

Until the enemy Cataphracts appered, there was nothing to do but wait.

It was supposed to be just a political marriage. Her, the kind and gentle Vers princess pushing for peace. Him, the Earth pilot who managed to outwith several Martian Knights. For the sake of peace, it was a necessary sacrifice. He hoped that it would works out.

And yet, he still feels uneasy when he saw them together. The way her gazes linger on him. The way she smiles when talking with him. The way her face lits up when he enters the room.

It made him ... jealous. Jealous of that guy for being what he couldn't be. Jealous of their relationship. It also made his heart aches. He wanted her to look at him that way, to smiles at him like that.

But then, he supposed him and her was just not meant to be, no matter how he wished it to be. It was painfully obvious that he can't win against him. So... tomorrow then. It was necessary, after all.

Even so...

"Ne, Nao-kun" A gentle voice spoke up "If you ever want to cry, just tell me. There's no need to hide in the rain you know"

Inaho Kaizuka looked up at his sister's concerned face. Wordlessly, he buried his face into her form, his shoulders silently shaking for the first time in many years.

"Princess, this way!"

In a strage forest, a white haired young man dressed in blue uniform and a golden haired girl in a white dress were running. Hot on their heels was a green monster.

"Ah!" The young girl cried out as her feet got entangled in a bunch of vines

"Princess!" The youth immediately rushed to her side, futilely trying to free her.

"No, Slaine! Run away!"

"I'm not running without you!"

The monster approached them, his clawed hands raising up to strike. Slaine, in desperation, covered the princess's body with his own.

Suddenly, gunshots resonated through the air. The monster stumbled back, snarling at the one that shot him. A man clad in orange armor enter the scene, pointing a black sword at the creature.

"Target located. Begin extermination"

Inaho - Gaim
Slaine - Baron
Calm - Knuckle

Saazbaum - Duke
Cruhteo - Shin Zangetsu
Femieanne - Marika
Vlad - Sigurd
Trillam - Shin Kurokage

Asseylum - Eventual holder of the forbidden power, Aldnoah