Echo Sierra Bravo

“Overlord this is Echo Sierra Bravo requesting immediate fire support, how copy?”

“Overlord this is Echo Sierra Bravo requesting immediate fire support on our location, do you copy? over.”

“Overlord, this is Echo Sierra Bravo, Captain Walker speaking We still have birds on the ground, and we need immediate fire support if we want them to go anywhere, how do you copy? over.”

“Overlord we are taking heavy fire from hostile contacts to our front and are in desperate need of fire support. We have civilians still inside the fortification in need of evac, but we are running out of time. We need fire support. Overlord, do you copy?”

Captain Cornelius J. Walker looked through the open tent flap to the Chinook that sat with its rotors spinning as people were loaded into its waiting cargo bay. There weren’t many civilians left; most had either been air lifted out or had simply climbed back into their vehicles to take their chances when they determined that the army wasn't moving fast enough. He pressed the button down on the handheld radio remote.

“Overlord this is Captain Walker at Echo Sierra Bravo. Hostile fire is coming in hard and is getting worse by the minute. We still have a bird on the ground and need more time to get it loaded up. We need fire support at this position. over.”

The radio crackled.

“Bravo this is Overlord. Be advised. Fire support will be delayed in getting to you. We have positions under attack across the board and you are currently still green. We are diverting fire support to where it is most needed. As soon as they are available, we will send birds your way. How copy? over.”

Walker ran his fist across his forehead, wiping the sweat away from his brow. The gunfire outside was rolling ever closer. Flashes of green could be seen on the faces of the civilians as they flinched and began to scream. He couldn’t fault his men, they performed beautifully under the circumstances. They remained cool, shoving the civvies onto the chopper, and when they wouldn’t move, they would simply carry them inside.

The longer it took however, the more soldiers peeled away, rifles raised as the fighting claimed more casualties. Walker sighed and shook his head.

“Overlord this is Walker. I copy.”

“Hold out Captain. We will send help as soon as we can.”

“Yeah,” Walker replied without pressing the function button.

He handed the radio to his operator, who took it in silence, multitasking as he wrote down the transmissions. Walker ran his hand down his face, unsure of what to do. They just needed a little longer. A few minutes at most. The Chinook would take off and he could withdraw his men from the position; push back closer to Overlord to regroup with the rest of the division.

A shadow obscured the landing pad, and a man waited expectantly. Walker looked at him.

“Well?”

“The civilians are all on board captain. We can begin putting our wounded on next.”

Walker shook his head.

“No. Send it. We’ll take the wounded with us when we pull out. That bird needs to be gone now.”

“Captain, are you sure?”

“I am Sergeant, we all hear the gunfire. Send it. We’ll follow it out.”

The man saluted.

“Yes sir.”

Walker began to turn away, then stopped.

“Sergeant?”

“Yes Captain?”

“When you tell the pilots, keep yourself on board. Make sure they know where they’re going.”

“Yes sir, thank you sir.”

Walker nodded toward the waiting helicopter.

“Get going.”

The man disappeared. Walker looked at the three men that made up his command team. He gestured at the radio equipment.

“Get this down and grab a rifle. We’re going to move in five.”

They said nothing, bursting into motion as they disassembled the radios. Most of it they would leave behind, but they needed to take steps to ensure the enemy couldn’t use it. Cords were brutally torn from the backs of the radios and their batteries were discard to the side. Walker watched as the operators intentionally wound the cable ends together, obscuring what went where.

The wind picked up as the Chinook’s rotors increased their speed. The unwieldy craft lifted into the air as Walker watched, covering his eyes. The behemoth was easy to spot against the night sky, its tan color and flashing lights making it painfully obvious against all of that black.

Walker prayed their luck would hold, that they still had enough time. As the bird lifted further into the sky, Walker’s eyes drifted down, taking careful stock of his position. Just outside of the range of the heli-pad lights, he could see his men withdrawing as black shapes flitted back and forth in the flashes of their rifles.

A .50 cal roared up, a man hopping up to take the place of the former user who laid on the ground, his uniform smoking as he was dragged back by a team of medics. His screams were blissfully drowned out temporarily by the helicopter above him.

Walker pumped his fist a little as the bird spun about, its movement beginning to carry it toward the rear. Just as he began thanking god that their luck had held, a wide green beam cut through the bottom of the Chinook. In an explosion of fire, the wounded bird began to drift to the right as the pilots struggled to bring it back under control. Walker could only watch in open mouthed horror as a second beam struck the cockpit. Blunted shards of glass rained on the heli-pad and Walker raised a hand to shield his eyes from the debris.

The Chinook went into a death spin, and Walker felt helpless as he watched it spiral in the wrong direction. Its wounds brought it down behind the bugs, and he watched as a momentarily lull in attackers startled his men. He heard the sound of twisting metal as the Chinook hit the ground somewhere behind the trees to their front. He prayed that everyone died instantly. It would be a small mercy.

Walker felt a tap on his shoulder. It was his radio operator, a Private Richardson.

“Captain, what are your orders?”

Walker looked around blankly for a moment, then his mind reset, and snapped shut like a trap.

“Withdraw from all positions forward of the .50, we need to tighten our area of fire. Get someone checking the Humvees. If their good, then we load up and go. If not, we walk.”

The man nodded and took off. Walker repeated his orders to a sergeant, his heart panging momentarily at the thought of the man he had sent to his death.

'No, not now,' he thought. 'You still have men that need to be kept alive.'

Walker scanned the battlefield, absorbing as much information as possible. He grimaced. What had been a full company was now down to less than fifty combat ready men. The rest were either lying in a line of wounded, or were simply gone. He understood the need of the medics to not grab the dead, wished desperately for an opportunity to at least retrieve their dog tags. To make sure their families would get something, if not a body.

“Contact front!” came the shout.

Men quickly braced against the sandbags and opened fire. The .50 cal roared again, his muzzle flashes painting the black bugs in yellow light as it wreaked havoc amongst the clustered creatures. They fell in a pile, the ones behind showing no hesitation as they crawled over their fallen comrades. No fear. No sympathy for their dead.

Walker looked around for his rifle, couldn’t remember where he had left it. The bugs pushed forward, despite their losses. His men smoothly fell back, moving closer to the heli-pad. As one man broke from his cover, a green beam came from nowhere, tearing through his shoulder. He collapsed with a scream. A medic darted forward, only for another beam to take him in the throat. He fell like a sack, impacting the dirt silently.

Walker drew his sidearm and ran forward. He fired as he went, leaving holes in at least one bug. He had no doubt he hit every shot, especially since the creatures were so thick that he could fire into the sky and still hit something.

He grabbed the fallen private by his vest. The man screamed wordlessly, clutching at the ugly burn decorating his shoulder. Walker didn’t look at it, didn’t watch anything other than the bugs as he fired at any that got too close. He got lucky. His pistol clicked empty as he got back to the sandbags closest to the heli-pad. A pair of medics took over, dragging the wounded man away. Walker dropped the empty magazine and quickly reloaded.

His men continued to fall back, though Walker noticed more than one body simply dropping. The only way he could tell if they were dead was if the bugs ignored them. If they didn’t, the creatures would latch on, dragging the man away screaming. Rifle fire was ineffective at saving the poor souls. Walker holstered his side arm and took up a dropped rifle. His muzzle flashes joined the rest as they peppered the seemingly endless horde of bugs.

Within two minutes, Walker was down a magazine and a half, and his men were all behind the final wall of sandbags. Without proper covering fire, green beams began cutting through their line, men collapsing with gasps and screams. The .50 cal in particular kept getting hit, with a man getting killed before he could even get the gun firing again. The armor that was supposed to be able stop most small arms fire was useless against the beams. The shield was charred black, with most of it simply blown away.

Walker dropped another magazine. The man beside him took a grazing shot from a beam. He screamed with pain, but stayed on his feet, his finger finding the trigger again and again. Walker slammed the fresh magazine home and picked out another target. As he fired, he heard a sound dreaded by soldiers worldwide. A click.

He looked to his right, the private not reaching for another magazine, his vest empty. Before he could call it out, a beam tore through his sternum. He fell back with a gurgle, dead before he hit the ground.

Walker fired again, counting his shots now. He had burned through his ammo, and he knew the men around him were experiencing a similar fate. More clicks rang out, followed by the calls.

“I’m out!”

“I’ve got nothing left here!”

“Captain we need ammo!”

Walker felt his rifle click, quickly dropped it in exchange for his side arm. The bugs were very close now. He felt gore spray as he fired point blank, each shot killing a target. To his left, a man was dragged to the ground as he was pounced by two bugs. It only distracted Walker for a moment, but it was enough. He pulled the trigger as his pistol contacted the chest of a bug that had leaped at him, its teeth bared. The creature died with a hole the size of his fist in its chest, but gore and meaty bits covered his hands, and more importantly, it got into the action of his m9.

Walker leveled the gun at another target and pulled the trigger. The bug died, but his gun also jammed. Walker worked the slide furiously, wriggling the shell loose just in time to level the pistol at another target. Again, it jammed. Walker growled in frustration as he worked the slide again. He felt a shadow pass over his face, saw the shiny white teeth of a bug, could see a look of victory in its eyes. He was going to die with a jammed gun. Walker pointed the non-functioning weapon at the changeling and pulled the trigger anyway.

A flash of light blinded Walker as the ground shook, sending him sprawling from his feet. The world seemed to rend apart, the ground bucking like a bronco. Walker couldn’t see it, but he heard a host of screams, could hear metal striking metal, as well as metal striking meat. He rolled onto his face and pushed himself up on his hands and knees. He shook his head as he tried to clear his ears of ringing.

Walker’s vision gradually returned, though a million spots danced before his eyes. He wiped dirt from his face as he grabbed the sandbags to his front, wrenching himself to his knees. When he saw what those bags were concealing, Walker thought for a second that he had died. There was simply no other explanation for what he was in front of him.

It was a large force, anywhere from a company or two’s worth of armored… ponies. They were standing between the pitiful remainder of his own forces and they were assaulting the bugs with fervor. Even more, the ponies were steadily driving the black creatures back. Walker could only watch, transfixed, as the ponies cut through the bugs like a scythe, leaving a thick carpet of bodies in their wake. One in particular stood out, not just because of its superior height, but because of the sheer power behind each swing. Walker spotted long blades attached to a large set of golden wings. The pony almost seemed to dance, spinning around and around as those blades decapitated anything they met. A wide hole in the bugs appeared, quickly filled in by the other charging ponies as they filled the gap, not content to stand back and watch their champion do the dirty work.

Walker managed to blink, and the motion jolted him enough to bring him back to reality. He looked at the men around him, all in silent awe just as he was. Walker let them remain that way for a moment as the ponies began to roll like a wave over the outer fortifications. He then began shaking each man in the line, waking them up. As they processed, the questions began.

“Captain, what was that? Who was that?”

“I don’t know Private, but for right now, they are not hostile and that’s good enough. How is our ammo?”

The men checked their weapons, and one hopped up on the vacant .50 to check. The grim looks told him enough. The calls followed; empty, out, dry clicking, the message the same.

“Have maybe a belt left Captain. I’m down to three rounds in my rifle,” the new gunner said.

Captain Walker sighed.

“Stay on the gun and give your rifle to someone else. If they come back, we need as much firepower as we can have.”

The man nodded and passed his m4 to a man who was holding an empty rifle. Walker thumbed the grip of his side arm, and almost as an afterthought, he pulled a rag from his pocket and scrubbed at the action, trying to clear the gunk that had caused it to jam. As he did so, Walker said;

“Distribute what you have left evenly. Fix bayonets if you have them. We’ll give them a show if nothing else.”

The men responded grimly. Some had lost their KABARs, while others had nothing to put the blade on, their rifles dropped or broken. Walker kept one eye on his hands as he cleaned his pistol, and the other to their front, where the sounds of battle still roiled forth. Flashes of green and white light traded blows, as if they too warred for dominance. His eyes drifted upward as a crackle of thunder pealed across the sky.

'Great,' he thought, 'rain.'

The lightning seemed to act strangely. The bolts that usually stayed amongst the clouds striking out with increasing frequency, their energy attacking something over the trees. Almost every single flash was in that direction, like they were being aimed.

Light drops began to fall, and Walker cursed their luck. The thunder seemed to roll closer, and a large crack split the sky. The wind picked up, and his men began to fall back into a line behind the cover of the sandbags. Leaves, knocked from the trees surrounding their position, began to pepper the corpses that lay strewn in front of them. One of the massive generator power lights behind them rocked with a soft groan of steel. The light set them on edge as it too began to move, creeping back and forth, giving the grisly scene before them an eerie look.

Walker walked behind his line, whispering encouragements to each man on the line. Some shifted nervously, while others struggled to keep the growing amount of water from their eyes as it dripped from their helmets. All eyes were focused forward, all waiting tensely for an enemy to appear.

Walker flinched when the loudest crack of thunder yet echoed overhead. It was like a grenade going off beside his head. His vision temporarily spun, and his ears rang. It was gut instinct to level his sidearm at the ponies when they landed behind him on the heli-pad. Walker and his men spun on their heels, weapons leveled as the quartet of ponies landed with a loud thud, their hooves cracking the concrete of the pad. The humans were silent, their weapons dripping with rainwater as they pointed, each man waging a war within himself to ensure that he didn't instinctively pull the trigger before an order was given. The men around him had wide eyes, filled with many emotions; fear, confusion, a slight mix of hope. The two parties remained at a silent standoff. Walker didn’t want to make the first move, though in the back of his mind he really knew he just didn’t want to make the wrong one. The survival of his men relied on a thread, a single decision, or misspoken word.

The ponies watched the humans, their eyes seeming to convey anger and sympathy simultaneously. What Walker didn’t see was hostility. They weren’t here for a fight. Not with their unit at least. He licked his lips and prayed as he slowly lowered his sidearm. The largest of the four ponies seemed to take this as a positive sign and stepped forward, opening its mouth to speak. A mistake.

A shot rang out, it could have been anything. The crushing nerves, a slipped finger, a flinch at the torrential rain. Walker saw it ricochet off of the pony’s helmet. Several reactions were immediate. The pony dropped to the ground. The remaining three ponies drew weapons, their armor seeming to take on a new glow. At the same time, Walker threw himself in front his men, grabbing rifle barrels and forcing them to the ground.

“Hold fire! Hold fire! Keep your fingers away from those triggers!”

He looked with wide eyes as the ponies advanced regardless. His men flinched back, and several rifles found their way back up. He was going to lose control. He had no doubt they would lose a firefight if there was one, and even if they did win, how would they explain four dead corpses filled with bullet holes when more ponies came knocking?

“Halt!” a loud female voice said. The advancing ponies froze.

The one that had been shot, a taller, blue pony, got to her feet. She rubbed at the mark on her helmet, her green eyes peeking out from beneath the shadows cast by her now marred helm. She advanced on them quickly, her eyes seeming to lock on to Walker. It took significant willpower not to level his pistol at her head again. He felt like he was being judged, like the pony's eyes could lay his soul bare for the world to see. Ignoring the instincts that told him to fight, Walker holstered his pistol, flexed his hand, and then walked forward. It helped his fear, and would at least make it appear like he wasn’t afraid if he was willing to meet the pony halfway.

The two stopped within feet of each other, and Walker crossed his arms across his chest to keep them from fidgeting. The pony looked him up and down.

“You are in charge here?”

Walker nodded.

“I am. I’m Captain Walker, First Infantry Division.”

“Princess Luna of Equestria,” she replied. “These are your soldiers?”

Walker looked back, saw less than a dozen faces staring back.

“They are,” he said simply, leaving out the fact that he used to have almost two hundred under his command.

“Excellent, you may tell them to stand down. We shall take things from here.”

Walker looked back at the pony with a confused expression.

“Excuse me? On whose authority are you issuing orders?”

The ponies behind the princess glared at him. She simply took it in stride, as if expecting his reaction.

“My own authority Captain. You are seriously depleted and are in need of rest and medical care. My own forces shall occupy your positions until such a time that we require your services.”

Walker frowned.

“I don’t think so. This is United States Army property, and as long as we are here, it will remain such. I don’t mean to seem ungrateful, but until I or my superiors decide this position is undefendable, we will remain where we are, manning our own positions.”

One of the ponies took a step forward, a snarl on its face.

“You are addressing your superior human. You will treat Princess Luna with respect!”

Walker bristled, and he knew the men behind him did so as well. Tension returned as rifle butts found their way to shoulders. Princess Luna whirled on the speaking pony, and above their heads, a low peal of thunder crackled across the sky.

“Be silent Captain Watcher! This is their planet; we are guests if nothing else. You will respect them as you respect me.”

She turned back to Walker.

“My apologies Captain, I have no desire to intrude, but merely to assist you. I will not pretend to understand your weapons, but I have heard enough to know they are nigh empty. We simply wish to give you the opportunity to resupply, so that you might be better prepared when the changelings return.”

“Changelings?” one of the men behind Walker asked. “You mean the bugs?”

Princess Luna nodded.

“Yes. These creatures, while not overly powerful, are incredibly numerous. While my sister will do her best to keep them occupied, more will surely flood around her and attack where we are at our weakest.”

“Here,” Walker said flatly.

He sighed and ran a hand down his face, thinking hard on how he should react. She was right of course, but would it show weakness to admit that? No... No. He needed to protect the men that remained first, then worry about looking weak. The simple truth was that if she pressed the issue, they would come up short. After a moment, Walker shrugged.

“Do as you please Princess Luna. It’s not like we can say no.”

He turned away from the pony without waiting for a reply. He pointed to Richardson.

“Get the radio back up, I want to talk with command. We need to alert them to potentially friendly forces to our front.”

He paused and sighed.

“The rest of you… let’s get to work. Set up a new perimeter around the pad, see if we have any boxes of ammunition in storage that we missed. Scavenge what you can.”

The men nodded and got to work. Rifles were slung over shoulders as sandbags were shifted. The rain had softened, but the wind still howled. It held a slight chill to it. Walker prayed that winter wasn’t coming early this year. While the forests of Virginia didn’t get exceptionally cold, he had a strong feeling they wouldn’t have heating units available any time soon.

He and Princess Luna traded a glance. She seemed unsure of his immediate acceptance of her single-handedly taking over his position. The glare he was giving her likely didn’t help. She looked away first, giving orders to the three ponies that still hadn’t moved from the heli-pad. Walker snorted and walked away, he had work to do.