Summoning America

Author’s Note (Story and Patreon Updates):

If you're interested in seeing more Modern vs Fantasy content or are a fan of Stargate or GATE, I invite you to read my latest project: Manifest Fantasy

Manifest Fantasy contains all the lessons I've learned as an author, from improved style and narration to greater authenticity and immersion when it comes to military, scientific, geopolitical, and other technical sequences.

Note 2:

Chapter 170 is now out for all Tier 2 Patrons and higher! Tier 2 Patrons and higher will be able to read one chapter ahead!

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January 16, 1641
Durnsbury, Mu

 

A sniper’s shot cracked through the morning air, the resulting bullet kicking up dust next to one of Kessler’s men up ahead. “Fucking snipers.” Kessler growled into the radio, “Einar, sharpshooter in that four-story apartment up ahead. Flush him out.”

 

Through the periscope, he watched Einar’s squad spring into action. A grenade flew into a shattered window, and a room on the third floor erupted in a cloud of dust and debris. “That’s how we do it,” Kessler muttered.

 

He surveyed the cluttered streets of Durnsbury, each one a damn death trap. “Eiswulf, advance, but keep it tight. Halm, roll that Hound up for backup,” he commanded.

 

Just as he gave out the orders, the Shafer in front of Eiswulf’s squad disappeared into the ground, its back sticking out of a large pit. The trapped tank blocked the entire street, a perfect opportunity for an ambush. Thankfully, the nearby buildings had already been cleared.

 

“Secure the perimeter!” Kessler called out, “Engineers, extract that Shafer! Mullen, I want that crossroad up ahead locked down. No fuck-ups. Can’t get choked up in these rat alleys.”

 

Mullen’s squad sprinted toward the crossroad, hugging the buildings to the sides of the street. One of the soldiers in his squad peeked around the corner before quickly ducking back, a spray of machine gun fire erupting from around the corner. 

 

“Jern, on me! We’re sweeping this block,” Mullen’s voice crackled over the radio. Kessler could see his men moving through the buildings to engage the Muans across the street and around the corners. Jern’s men moved up to assist Mullen and his squad, scrambling as sniper fire cut through someone’s chest. 

 

“Sniper in the bell tower!” someone yelled. 

 

Kessler saw the bell tower in the distance, the muzzle flash visible. “Halm, light up that fucking tower!”

 

The response was immediate – a barrage of fire directed at the decrepit stone tower looming over the street. Kessler watched as chunks of masonry flew off the tower, a plume of smoke rising into the air. A body tumbled from the tower’s opening, hitting the ground with a dull thud.

 

The firefight died down quickly as Mullen and Jern’s men sweeped the perimeter, clearing a space for the engineers to do their work. Curiously enough, their fight didn’t attract much attention, as if the Muans had abandoned this area. Not a single enemy combatant interrupted their work, and the Shafer was brought out of the pit. 

 

As they moved forward, Kessler noticed something odd about the neighborhood. It was too quiet. “Something’s off,” he murmured, scanning the roads ahead. The houses were unremarkable, the streets seemingly deserted, but his instincts screamed danger.

 

“Hold position,” Kessler ordered, his voice dropping to a growl. “Einar, take your squad and scout that alley on the left. Eiswulf, cover them. I don’t like the look of this place.

 

Einar’s squad moved cautiously, their weapons drawn, as they disappeared into the narrow alley. It didn’t take long before an explosion rocked the alley. “Ambush!” Einar reported.

 

Kessler couldn’t wait to be rotated out of this urban nightmare. They had walked into yet another Hornet’s nest. The Panthera rumbled as it backed into a more defensible position near a house’s driveway, allowing the Shafers and Hounds to position themselves further ahead. “Einar, report status!”

 

“Multiple hostiles, sir, offices directly across from the alley. We’re pinned down in a grocery store outside the alley.”

 

“Acknowledged,” Kessler responded. “Halm, give them some backup, two rounds HE. Einar, pull your squad back on my mark.”

 

Halm’s Hound struck the target building, causing debris to rain down. “Einar, move now!” Kessler shouted.

 

Einar’s squad retreated from their exposed position, darting back through the smoke-filled alley before regrouping behind the cover of a half-destroyed wall. Meanwhile, Eiswulf’s men covered their retreat, picking off a few stragglers that emerged from the aftermath of the Hound’s attack. The battle rhythm shifted as Kessler’s units tightened their grip on the neighborhood, additional squads reinforcing Einar and Eiswulf.

“Mullen, push your men up the left flank. Once you take that restaurant, we can push into the offices,” Kessler directed.

 

Mullen’s squad secured the restaurant, sporadic gunfire emitting from it while Shafers watched the cross between the office and the restaurant, blocking any Muan attempt at reinforcement. Hounds sat back, occasionally lobbing shells wherever a machine gunner or mage popped up, silencing them permanently. As the restaurant was secured, Kessler repositioned his men for an assault on the offices, first ordering his tanks to take down the short walls surrounding the office building. 

 

Bodies and rubble flew as the walls were disintegrated by HE, the men hiding behind the wall reduced to mangled corpses. “Hold your fire! Infantry’s moving in,” Kessler commanded. “Shafers, suppressing fire on the windows!” 

 

Machine guns rattled, punching hundreds of holes into the windows above and providing cover for the infantry under Kessler’s command to rush the entrances of the building. The squads moved swiftly, taking cover along the debris outside the building as they shot inside, methodically clearing the bottom floor from Muan presence. 

 

“First floor, clear!”

 

“Watch the stairs!”

 

More sounds of close-quarters combat resounded through the building – short bursts of gunfire, small explosions from grenades, shouts, the crash of bodies against walls. Einar led a team up the stairs, grenades preceding their ascent. 

 

“Shafers, cease fire!” Kessler ordered as he watched his men push to the next floor, their figures silhouetted as they cleared rooms. He saw figures crumpling on both sides, the Muans putting up one hell of a fight. He heard sounds of unfamiliar gunfire and saw explosions that couldn’t be compared to their standard-issue frag grenades – likely elements of American equipment. One such explosion caused a group of men under Mullen’s command to stagger, disorienting them enough for the defenders to easily kill them. 

 

Clearing the building was bloodier than he expected, but with each cleared room, the resistance weakened. The Muans were outnumbered, and only a few of them had access to American equipment. Amidst the chaos, a Muan soldier attempted a desperate counterattack, lunging with some sort of explosive. He was quickly cut down, his plan foiled as he took out a chunk of a room instead of a chunk of Einar’s men.

 

Debris rained down, the gunfire subsiding as Kessler received a report. “Building secured, sir. Rest of them came out and surrendered,” Einar’s voice came through.

 

Kessler surveyed the scene. The office building, pockmarked with bullet holes and scarred by explosions, stood silent in the aftermath of the battle. Shattered windows, collapsed walls, and scattered stationery bore witness to the ferocity of the assault. The ground was littered with spent casings, ruined furniture, the remnants of hastily abandoned Muan equipment, and the bodies of the fallen.

 

So much death, so little time to grieve. Heavy with lament, Kessler stepped out of the Panthera. “Fan out, search this rubble. I want answers.”

 

Kessler sighed as he walked toward the lobby, his boots crunching over scattered debris. The place was littered with boxes of supplies – American guns, ammunition, magic gems, and other miscellaneous items. He picked up a rifle, assessing its make. Good research material, no doubt, but their stock of captured weapons didn’t reveal any more than they already knew. Having these would be useful, but there wasn’t much the higher-ups could do without wrecking their current supply chains.

 

He set the rifle down, his attention now caught on a stack of charred documents. The ashes were still warm, smoldering quietly. Typical Muan OPSEC – they were leagues ahead of other nations the Empire had encountered here, certainly learning from the mistakes of their neighbors. No easy intel this time. 

 

While his men searched the rooms upstairs, Kessler stepped out the back door. He noticed Sergeant Haas at the corner of his eye, standing by a peculiarly parked truck. The space to the right was empty, possibly pointing to another truck that had long since left. “Haas, what’s the story with this?” he inquired, approaching.

 

“Just found it, sir. Loaded up and abandoned,” Haas reported, glancing at the truck.

 

Kessler walked up to the back of the truck, cautiously drawing back the tarp. Inside, he saw crates marked with hazardous symbols. “Well then,” he commented. This cache was much more than a simple supply depot.

 

“Haas, get me a full inventory. Alert the demolition team for a sweep of traps,” he ordered. 

 

“Understood, sir.”

 

Kessler returned to the Panthera. The amount of explosives in that truck was enough to lay waste to a city block. Were the Muans planning on driving it into a Gra Valkan force or setting up some sort of trap? He hurriedly grasped the radio, contacting Colonel Raditz. “This is Captain Kessler of Ulfar Company reporting to Colonel Raditz, we’ve located a significant cache of explosives inside a truck. It’s possible another shipment may have already left.”

 

“Any indicators on their planned use?”

 

“Negative at this stage, sir. But I have some theories,” Kessler answered. “Requesting authorization for interrogation of prisoners. Time may be of the essence.”

 

After a brief pause, Raditz consented. “Permission granted. Extract any relevant intelligence swiftly. I don’t care how it’s done. We must preempt the Muans’ strategems.”

 

“Acknowledged.” Kessler set down the radio and strode toward the office building, entering a room where the POWs were being kept. Though he didn’t expect them to spill everything, at least one of them should know enough to build on. As he entered the room, he signaled for his men to stand by the door. 

 

He eyed the prisoners, noting their postures, the glances they exchanged. Experience had honed his ability to read fear and secrets. He stopped in front of one who seemed less disoriented than the others – a lieutenant. “You,” Kessler said, pointing at the man. He locked eyes with him. “Tell me about the truck and those explosives.” 

 

The Muan lieutenant’s response was one Kessler had anticipated, yet was still disappointed in hearing. “What truck?”

 

Kessler’s expression didn’t change, but internally he felt the familiar surge of frustration. He wasn’t in the mood for games – especially when the lives of his men were at stake. Without breaking eye contact, he drew his sidearm smoothly from its holster. The sound of metal clicking echoed in the sudden silence. He sighed. He knew what he had to do, as hypocritical as it was. 

 

“You see,” Kessler began, his voice icy, “I’m not here to play around. You will talk, or…” He turned slightly, aiming and firing a single shot at another prisoner, who yelped in pain as he clutched his arm. “The next one will go in someone’s head.”

 

“Fuck! Just tell him!” the injured man yelled.

 

The lieutenant’s eyes grew wide in shock, as if he hadn’t expected such a brutal move. “You bastard! That’s a war crime! Y–You lot signed an accord with us and the Americans, and –and –”

 

Kessler pointed the gun to another prisoner, cutting the lieutenant off. “And unfortunately for you and me, the Chancellor doesn’t give a shit. Believe me, if I didn’t have to do this, I wouldn’t. But the lives of my men come first – yours second. I’m sure you can understand that. Now, let’s try this again. The truck. The explosives. Start talking.”

 

The lieutenant’s face grew pale, the defiance in his face melting away as he realized Kessler’s conviction. “Alright, alright,” he said with a shaky voice. “They told us to bring the truck to the railroad. They didn’t tell us anything else!”

 

“Did another truck leave beforehand?”

 

The lieutenant nodded.

 

Kessler assessed the lieutenant’s words, trying to sift truth from fear-induced lies. He holstered his sidearm slowly. If what he said was true, they were on the brink of uncovering a major Muan operation. “Keep an eye on them,” he ordered his men before turning to head back to the Panthera. He needed to update Raditz – and fast.

 

As he walked, Kessler’s mind raced. A truck full of explosives, destined for the railroad – it couldn’t be a coincidence. It was too strategic. This had all the makings of a major sabotage operation. They had to act quickly. 

 

Climbing back into the Panthera, Kessler grabbed the radio. “Kessler to Colonel Raditz, interrogation complete. The Muans planned to bring a truckload of explosives to the railroad. One shipment is already en route. It’s a sabotage operation, no doubt about it.”

 

Raditz’s voice crackled through. “Understood, Captain. What’s your assessment?”

 

“We don’t have time to get a specialized team here. We need to infiltrate the railroad with the truck, posing as the second shipment. I’ve got good men here, not as good as the Sicarius operatives, but they’re the only option we have. They can get in and disable the explosives while the rest of the Muans are distracted with our assault.”

 

Raditz was silent for a moment, likely weighing the risks and discussing with other officers. “It’s a bold move. Ordinarily, we’d wait for Sicarius, but you’re correct: our options are limited. You have the approval of General Flats. Proceed with caution.”

 

Kessler nodded, even though Raditz couldn’t see it. “Understood, sir. We’ll prep for the operation immediately.”