Ok, so, Aliens go to war with Humans
“Captain, your orders are to secure a drop point for the commandant’s frigate, not to critique a superior’s orders, or what seems to you as ‘overkill’, especially given that this mission is following standard deployment procedures. We’ve sent a rather bare-bones entrenchment force in what amounts to a moderately-armed scouting vessel. Hell, the equipment and orders you’ve been given don’t even step within a mile of a war crime. So if you have a problem with this, you can either stuff it and carry out the mission, or get one of your officers, hand them a field promotion, and submit yourself for discipline. This is non-negotiable.”
“I understand, sir. I aplogize. I will go forward with the mission. Captain James Pascoi out.”
The captain calmly closed the comm channel and rose from his chair. He spit as he loped out if his office and into the CIC of the Mississippi Blues.
His aide, Lt. Adama Briggs, came to his side and kept pace with him as they briskly swept toward the bridge.
“Any luck, sir?”
“No joy, Mr. Briggs. I was told that I can either stuff it or get spanked. I guess I’ll stuff it,” the captain huffed as he opened the door.
The sliding doors opened with barely a noise.
“Captain on the bridge!”
“At ease, all officers.” He turned to his ComNet officer. “Commander Idasdottir, how’s Intel on our entry?”
“ISHMAEL came back with negligeble population in our insertion zone. Overall planetary presence minimal. Enemy resistance is expected to be light to moderate.”
“Try nil, they’re years behind us,” said the captain. “Have these little buggers even seen a human in the flesh, much less our phasic weaponry or our Suits?”
“Not to my recollection, captain,” she said, a grin creeping on her face. “But they’ll see it soon enough, I suppose.”
“Captain, .3 lightminutes to target,” said the ensign.
“Bring us out of Q-Space in lunar orbit of Basis 10, then Alcu us in to Basis 6, 50% capacity. Opposite end of the planet from our target.”
“Aye, captain,” he belted. He switched on ShipComm. “All hands, we are exiting q-space in 10 seconds. Brace for exit. I repeat, all hands, brace for exit.”
“5… 4… 3… 2… Exiting q-space fold.”
With a cacophonous trumpeting, as if the captain’s head was swallowed by an angry tuba, the ship lurched hard out of q-space, assaulting the ears of the crew and pulling on everyone’s vision. Basis 10 shot at light speed toward them, dominating what was an empty screen in a measure of a second. The halo of the host star, Basis Alpha, shone through the maelstrom of blue and green, striking it a pale color, fading to almost a mocha color in the high boughs of the clouds. Distant stars began poking their holes of light in the dark backdrop as everything caught up with them.
After the ringing in his ears subsided, he signaled the ensign to fold the nacelles away and engage the Alcubierre drive. In stark contrast to the unholy black maw of Q-space, everything in the system moved smoothly and without tear. The milky blue smudge of Basis 10 pulled away gracefully, the massive gas giant pulling away as they sped towards Basis 6.
“Thirty seconds to Basis 6. Coming out of Alcubierre…” the engineering officer trailed, his hawkish eyes piercing his monitor. “…Now.”
The ship pulled to a sudden, but smooth halt. The glint of Basis Alpha shone off the smooth contour of the Mississippi Blues’ hull, her rounded arrow shape peeling through space and into the dark side of the planet.
“Captain, we are nearing the location in five.”
“Roger that. All hands, to stations. Bring up the phasic emitters and the railguns. Battlesuit crew, man your frames. All ground units, brace for a hot drop.”
The Mississippi Blues plunged into the dawning day-side and sped hard and low, cresting over mountain ranges and slicing through cloud towers. Thunder cracked behind them as they moved 13 times faster than sound.
“1200 kilometers to target,” chirped the navigator.
“Deploy hardpoints,” ordered the captain.
“Aye sir, deploying hardpoints!”
The emitters and railcannons bulged out from the sleek hull, cutting streamers in the chill dawntime air.
“Slow us down.”
“Decresing speed 25… 50… 75 percent.”
He could feel the ship coming to a slow, but not a full halt.
“10 kilos. Engaging retros.”
The retrograde thrusters roared to life, the vessel lurching ever so slightly. The three-quarter-kilometer-long ship crested over a craggy, moss-covered mountain and laid sights upon the enemy encampment. The gray morning sky blew a fine watery mist on the mossy rocks and grassy knolls of the field, the metal spires and barracks setting a stark contrast to the dark browns and greens of the field.
The belly of the Blues opened, and dropped the eight nimble battlesuits onto the lowland hills, as six dropships shot out of the sides. The Blues herself opened the first salvo of its phasic munitions, slagging a rocky mound and near-vaporizing one of the AA turrets.
The battlesuits, a cadre of eight “Ghost” models, sped out on their quick avian legs, their command module bobbing up and down with each bound. The lance of eight split into two squads, flanking the base from the east and the west. Micromissiles flew out in swarms as their phasers ate nasty holes in enemy tanks, and their railguns clipped the wings off the dropships as they rose from their pads.
The dropships curled around and split up, three dropping to the northwest and the other three dropping to the southern barracks complex. As the hulking birds touched down, their bellies were relieved of the battletanks that were burdening them, and their insides relieved of the 20-or-so infantrymen inside the hull.
“This is SergeantMajor Wilhelm reporting in at the northwest dropsite. All three birds and their payloads made it groundside in one piece, beginning our assault on the command compound,” his comm crackled.
“Roger that, Sergent Major. If the opportunity arises, take their leadership hostage. Do not engage with lethal force unless necessary.”
“Aye, Captain. Wilhelm out.”
“Captain, Tank Lance Sergeant Kanoza reporting, sir. Assault on barracks compound halted. The soldiers are surrendering.”
“They are? This quickly?”
“Seems so, sir. I’m a bit surprised myse–”
The radio cut short. “Lance Sergeant? Lance Sergeant, report!”
“Lance Sergeant Kanoza flatlined sir,” reported the commander. “As well as everyone else in Ahab 6. We lost squads 3 and 7.”
“Was it the soldiers? Suicide bomb–”
“Captain, new contact, 3 klicks north-northwest. Enemy destroyer, elevation 3500 and descending on a 35° entry.”
“They got word out to that destroyer. They’re targeting the tanks. Full power, batteries 4 and 6, open up, bring her down.”
The emitters powered up and barked their glinting beams at the destroyer, piercing her hull and bloating the ship morbidly, before it glowed orange-white and popped like some obscene bubble. A fireball roared out as her reactors went critical, and the shockwave flattened the peak of the mountain just underneath. Twisted, deformed wreckage fell like odd-sized hail.
“Well, damn,” the captain quipped. “Sergeant Major, do me a favor and cut their comms, we don’t need another destroyer or worse showing up.”
“Aye sir. Just after my eyes catch up with me. Wilhelm out.”
“Very good,” the captain replied, as he sat up and walked to the gunner. “Good guns, kid.” The gunnery officer beamed. “Commander Idasdottir, do you have a handle on things? I think I’m gonna get a coffee.”
“Would you get me one, sir?”
“Suit Lance, Lieutenant Armstrong reporting. Mighty fine guns, Blues. The airstrips have been reduced to fine ashes.”
“Good job, Lieutenant Armstrong. Move to the secondary position and provide support for the boys at the northwest drop. The South has been handled,” said the Commander.
“Commander, ma'am. Sergeant Hitsuo reporting. All combatants have dropped their weapons. Orders?”
“Oh. All– all of them?”
“Up to and including the officers. The white flag’s been raised, so to say.”
“Take them in, I suppose. Good job today, Sergeant.”
“You mean to tell me that every last of those bugs dropped gun and went belly-up five minutes into deployment?”
“Admiral, I’d be lying if I said I was wholly surprised, but yes. They lost half their men and a destroyer, they rolled over like a dog. We took the survivors and processed them, but kept the superior officers for questioning.”
“Er… very good, Captain. Maybe you were right about this being… overkill.” The captain could hear the Admiral mutter ‘Jesus Christ’… on the other end.
“Next deployment, sir?”
“Well, there might not be one from the sounds of it. We might have won the war in the first five minutes of real fighting.”
“Uh… oh. Well, I’ll be here until you need me, I suppose. Have a nice day, sir. Captain Pascoi out.”Another submission from the amazing @bartwelchii!