Sovereign

“The Orlish Air Force bombards Nordia! Three days into Queen Amelie’s ‘liberation operation’ into West Lieplatz against General Richstoff’s Junta, the OAF is now almost within reach of the city of Nordia, the largest Lieplatzan city on its West Coast. The push has been mired with reports of the Lieplatzan Army’s atrocities against Lieplatz’s women, with femicidal massacres being uncovered by the OAF through many liberated population centers. Some reports also indicate the possibility of the Lieplatzans holding its former noble class in ‘concentration camps’ up in North Lieplatz. The OAF is now expected to speed up their operations to reach these rumored camps before the Junta ‘liquidates’ them.”

- ROCN News

+++

West Lieplatz

South of Nordia

18th Light Mech Battalion

“Fucken…” The Lorathian beside Lieutenant Charles Rupkoff, Corporal Hector Smith, cursed after he banged his head on his gun sights. Their LSS Mech was now stuck in an awkward position, as more of the collapsed rubble dropped upon them. “Damn it!”

“Hold still, son,” Charles said, trying his best to treat his gunner’s bleeding head. The bandages stemmed some of the bleeding, but he was still badly hurt. In fact, Charles doubted if his gunner would soon be up to the task of keeping their LSS Mech firing. “We’ll get them medics later.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the Corporal said, his left eye now covered by the bandage. “I was too slow.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Charles said. “We’ll get out of here. This is just an ambush. Reinforcements will come soon.”

His gunner nodded grimly, before returning to his gun sights. Charles however tended back to his radio, as he tried to make sense of the situation around him. Being the spearhead of their battalion was a dangerous task, that he knew. And he had spent much of the time before they were deployed planning and training himself for this situation.

Yet now, they were bogged down, stuck dead on the rubble and snow. His platoon’s remaining LSS Mechs were all transmitting possible coordinates, asking for orders, and reporting casualties. Two of their LSS Mechs were now shot dead, their turret’s blowout panels still burning on the road ahead.

He could see one of their M44-Nörds, a greyish old-looking tank now turned into a modernized beast with its ERA (Explosive Reactive Armor) and a multitude of its new modifications coming out of the rubble-strewn streets. Its turret turned to the side, as the smaller 90 mm gun aimed at one of the badly disabled LSS Mechs of his due to an infantry-fired ATGM that disabled its leg-based transmission.

“This is Five-Three, we got a red contact on the left. Big one, over.” The downed LSS Mech fired off a shot from its main gun, but the Nörd’s ERA armor exploded before contact, and they could see that the shot shattered on the Lieplatzan tank’s hull armor, as it failed to penetrate it.

The Lieplatzan tank fired off its main gun, and Charles could only bang his hand on one of the screens as he watched the crew of the downed LSS Mech rush out of their mech’s cupolas all while fires consumed it from the inside out.

“The turret’s stuck, sir!” Hector said. “I can’t aim at the bastards!”

“Lieutenant!” Someone called from their internal comms. It was Private Jenkins Schleit, down on their LSS Mech’s chassis. “I think I can get our legs unstuck. You guys gotta brace yourselves.”

“Do it, now! Hector, hold on to that before you bang your head again!”

“Aye, sir!”

Suddenly, their driver made a dangerous maneuver. The back legs of their LSS Mechs roared, just in a synchronized manner to their forward left legs. The sudden pull freed one of the right legs of their mech that was stuck, almost ripping it to shreds. However, it somehow held on. The Lieutenant smirked, now was the time to retaliate.

“Get us out of the rubble, Jenkins!”

“On it!”

Like a beast off from its downed state, their LSS Mech emerged from the collapsed building, their turret finally turning at the exposed Lieplatzan tank.

“Do it! Fire!” Charles ordered, and Hector pulled the fire trigger, releasing an APFSDS round from its smoothbore main gun. The round’s sabots flew off just milliseconds after it was out of the barrel, leaving a long depleted uranium penetrator dart. The penetrator flew straight into the cheeks of the turret of the Lieplatzan tank, sending a hail of spall into the crew inside.

Within seconds of a fire igniting inside, the ammunition storage exploded, and Charles watched as the enemy tank’s turret almost flew to the sky. A smirk grew on his face.

One down.

“Good shot, Hector. Jenkins, get us the hell off from here!”

Another shot from a Lieplatzan tank almost clipped them, but Jenkin’s expertly timed jump allowed them to dodge it, as their mech’s legs went overdrive on the asphalt upon landing, dodging more shots as they lunged at nearly sixty and seventy kilometers per hour within just a few seconds.

Charles took his radio, as his platoon finally began reorganizing to respond to the ambush. His underlings began taking cover in the rubble, climbing apartments, or repositioning to prevent the Lieplatzans from hitting them. Their mech passed two of his underlings, both of them on top of an apartment building, firing their main gun somewhere.

“This is Five-Five we got a score!”

“Five-One reporting, contact down!”

“Keep it up!” Charles said before a transmission arrived. It was the 1st and 3rd Platoon. “They’re coming in, boys! Just hold on a little longer!

“Rog, el-tee!”

Charles turned to their Company-wide comms.

“Captain! What the hell took you so long?”

“Apologies Lieutenant. Hostiles got us held up on the road. Status?”

“Three down. Five of us left, Captain.”

“We’ll get you boys out soon. All units, push forward! Those Lieplatzans are breaking into a retreat.”

“Copy! We got eyes on them,” the Lieutenant of the 3rd Platoon said, and Charles finally heard the characteristic booms of their main guns. And just then, their mech stopped and almost drifted, as five LSS Mechs of 1st Platoon sped up through the rubble-strewn road. One of them stopped and its turret turned into them.

It was their Captain’s command mech.

“You and your boys did well, Lieutenant.”

“I screwed up.”

“No plan survives first contact. Not your fault, Charles.” The mech’s turret turned back in the direction of the fighting. “Let’s get your men out.”

“Aye, sir.”

+++

South of Nordia

7th Marine Division

A/2-6 Marine Regiment

Corporal Oakley was roused asleep from his slumber. He gave Private Timmy a glare for waking him up so randomly, but the Private merely gave him a shit-eating grin in response.

“Rise and shine, Princess,” the young marine said. “I think we’re on some treasure trove, mate. We got an entire store for ourselves to requisition some supplies from. Wanna shop?”

Oakley groaned and placed his camo-styled handkerchief back to his face. “Piss off. If y’all wanna loot and pillage, let me sleep instead.”

“Come on, them Lieplatzans evacuated this place,” Timmy said. “Not like the owners of the store are anywhere around here. Come on, there might be some cool stuff inside. Plus, we’re liberating them.”

“Goddamn, looting for instant noodles, we got MREs you dullard,” Oakley said.

“Dude, they got some cool ass canned goods! There has to be something!”

“Oh for…you know what, fine. Wait for me outside,” Oakley said as Private Timmy laughed before he exited the HMLV.

Their convoy was now stuck somewhere in a town that was south of Nordia. The participation of the Orlish Marine Corps was something Oakley already long anticipated, as he knew that they would be fighting on the West Coast. Still, Lieplatz, he never was here. Ever. The cold was damned annoying, that was as best as he would note about this desolate place.

I wonder when we’ll move out again. Oakley held his hand on his mouth as he tried to groggily wake himself up. He barely slept on the road to Nordia. Ambushes, towns, cities, and villages filled with the dead. The endless horde of surrendering Lieplatzan Army soldiers. It was all taking a toll on them.

He followed Private Timmy while slinging his rifle on his back. The man was becoming too giddy about the entire thing. Perhaps the prospect of checking out local wares was getting into him. But Oakley wasn’t too excited about all of it. What would they really get from an abandoned grocery store? Not much, he would surmise.

Maybe they didn’t turn off the electricity. And his answer came quickly. There were still faint, flickering, neon light signs throughout the night. The grocery store was abandoned, yes, but it was on with electricity. Well, much of the city was still on with its lights, even when abandoned.

He looked back at the rows of civilian refugees yesterday. Thousands of them. In civilian vehicles, or on foot, meeting the advancing Orlish convoys…

It was a harrowing sight. Many of them were simply trying to escape the Junta’s madness. And they, Orland, and men like him of the Orlish Armed Forces, seemed like salvation to these people. It was partly why they were taking so long. Traffic jams due to endless refugees clogging the roads to Nordia.

Salvation, they thought. Yet they were here looting their lands.

So this is the city where they came from. Oakley thought as he and Timmy opened the glass door to the grocery store. He almost felt a chill about it, remembering that day in Ginzhu. Briefly, he wondered what must have happened to that girl. He could only hope that the young one was safe and sound.

“Hey man, why are you spacin’ out over there?” Asked Timmy, as he started fumbling his hands on the aisles. Almost like some greedy rat, Timmy was taking in the best of the best. Canned goods, candies, hell, he even started emptying the area with chocolate bars. Oakley shook his head before he started joining him on the spree for a bit.

“Just thought this is kinda bad.”

“Hey, I told ya,” Timmy retorted. “It ain’t. These things are already counted as losses. Plus, who gives a shite about some big-ass retail company losing a few chocolate bars in a warzone?”

Timmy laughed. He did have some point, Oakley begrudgingly thought. Cislo after all was just a part of their previous Prime Minister’s group of companies. Just another one of ole’ lady Weirloff’s major conglomerates that dominated North Oppelia's civilian sector.

So who cared, really, that a high Orlish noblewoman would lose some Orlish Blancs?

“Well, it still just doesn’t feel right, y’know,” Oakley said, as he bagged another dozen chocolate bars. He almost felt like a child, as he could not deny how giddy he felt from having so many sweets for himself. Quite frankly, he remembered that his mother never was the one who liked to treat him with these.

And he barely treated himself with it either. He laughed. So that was his excuse for being a looter then?

“It’s like, we’re some miserable scavengers or something. Of a ruin.”

“Come on, you’re exaggerating,” Timmy said, opening one of the chocolate bars for himself and taking a bite of it. “Just fucken enjoy man, it’s good shit. Ain’t gonna get much of these niceties once we resume the drive to Nordia.”

“Yeah, sure whatever.”

“Besides,” Timmy smirked. “Other folks are also looting the city. I mean, have you seen Sarge? He’s rocking that four luxury watch thing.”

“The Army’s going to confiscate it anyway, before reprimanding us. This is bad for the image of Orland.”

“Well, they can try confiscating the food I digested.”

Oakley laughed. “Slimy wanker.”

Soon, the two of them left the abandoned store, full of all manners of nice snacks and sweets in their plastic bags. Oakley himself mostly looted chocolate bars, and he almost laughed at himself for how childish it was. A grown-ass Marine, unable to stop himself from ransacking an abandoned store of its chocolate stores.

We men really are hopeless. He thought to himself, as he watched other Marines on their convoy return with all manners of looted objects they could get their hands on. Truly hopeless.