2019
Blackwing Craviter HQ
Luscova
Wojeck Blaskowitz was a giant of a man, his immense frame made him look almost comical behind the formal setting of a desk. Half Arrandi and half Essalanean, Wojeck had no shortage of strong progenitors in his DNA and given such ancestry it had been almost a foregone conclusion that he would end up in his current profession. Ten years in the Norsian military had honed his skills and a further twenty with Blackwing had refined them to a bleeding edge.
He had risen to divisional head of Blackwing craviter on merit and a career marked by delivering no matter the odds, though trading a plate carrier for business shirts had been a tough pill to swallow. Still, when Victor Holst gave you a promotion you didn’t argue and Wojeck knew the business better than anyone, he could keep his men in paid work and alive just as well behind a desk.
Getting used to an office job had been an adjustment, but Wojeck had adapted, discipline holding true even with the change of posting. He worked late most days, he liked to earn his pay and tonight was no different. The only exception to this rule that Wojeck allowed was the Sundays he took off to spend time with his family, in the last five years he had missed only one.
“Thousands dead and wounded in what the government is calling the single worst terrorist attack in Arcanstotskan history!” a GNN reporter opined as a reel of grim footage filled the screen
Wojeck wondered how many Sundays he might now miss, the situation in Arcanstotska looking worse by the hour. The republic day bombings had plunged the craviterean nation into chaos, talk of war and uprising was already filling the net as the full extent of the damage became more and more evident. For the ordinary citizen, it was a nightmare birthed in fire and screams, for Blackwing, it was Tuesday.
“I trust your watching the news” Victor Holst’s accented voice asked over the phone
“Sir, you're up early, what time is it in Gothis?” Wojeck asked surprised by the hour of the call
“Sleep is a luxury that we both know must occasionally be foregone, I'm meeting with the board in an hour” Holst replied dismissing any concerns
“The board? Then?” Wojeck replied quizzically a picture quickly falling into place
“Our contacts in the republic are all saying the same thing” Holst explained
“War” Wojeck said already knowing the answer
That wasn’t really all that surprising, the Vaasan people had chafed under foreign rule for over a century since Ereion had been swallowed up like an aperitif. A once proud people now under the yoke of Szlavic rule, now they had finally decided to break those chains and rise, and they had chosen the least subtle way to do it. The PGU was currently silent, suggesting no one was sure how to approach the situation, and the rest of the world seemed embroiled in its own chaos, it wasn’t going to go away diplomatically.
“Indeed, the Vaasan’s finally pulled the trigger, the Arcanstotskan military is unprepared, their government is expected to request our services” Holst replied affirmatively
“So, they are offering a contract?” Wojeck asked curiosity picqued
“Its "The” Contract Wojeck, 80 million IBU for our forces to assist in operational security, this is a major opportunity” Holst corrected
“What are your orders, sir?” Wojeck asked obediently
“Draw up a list and have everyone ready to deploy within the next few days, once this contract is approved, we are going to be very busy,” Holst said matter-factly
“Yes sir, I'll make the call” Wojeck replied obediently as Holst hung up
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1 month later
Outskirts of Eisenberg
“SWORD OF THE GODS! GIVE THE POWER!! GIVE ME THE FORCE TONIIIIIGGGGGHHHTTT, GIVE ME THE STRENGTH, GIVE ME THE FIRE! SWORD OF THE GODS TONIIIIIIIGGGGHHHTT” the Donnerschwert track roared from the jeep's stereo as the convoy advanced through the countryside
In the rear of the jeep, a squad of Blackwing operators busied themselves with last gear checks, they were a mishmash of ex-services from across Eras, soldiers, cops, airmen and more all now fighting not for country but for cash. The Warhounds might not have had ideology on their side, but they made up for that with skills that were second to none.
Today's mission though had the potential to go very badly wrong, the entire line was collapsing as the Vaasan region rose in armed rebellion and the Warhounds were leading a relief column straight into the hot zone. The city of Eisenberg had thus far held on, the Arcanstotskan military refusing to abandon its remaining territory, but the countryside was a warzone with no defined lines of contact, and it was getting worse by the day.
The relief convoy was meant to bring ammo, food, and civilian aid to the embattled soldiers that were still trying to keep the region in republic hands. Between them and their destination was a murky expanse of abandoned villages, mined roads, and potential ambushes. Still, a job was a job and the stotskies paid very well, not that they had much of a choice, the situation was getting worse by the minute.
Isaac stared down at his map with a perturbed expression, it was all in Szlavic writing and the local names didn’t match the road signs the Vaasans had installed after vandalizing the old ones. He circled a small dot on the map with his pencil “Vorodenko” is read, he put a forward slash and wrote “Volksburg” next to it. The war was now as much about language as it was territory.
Isaac had seen battle before, he didn’t talk much about his origins or his uniformed days, preferring the anonymity of mercenary life. He’d fought in a dozen places, some he remembered and others he made a point to try and forget but as he looked out at the off-green forests and mist-filled plains, he knew Vaasa was going to stick with him for a long time to come.
“So, what's the plan” Vilda, the Essalanean sharpshooter of the squad, asked as she finished polishing her blade
“Kill Vassies and get paid HAHA!” N’gele said in an obnoxious, booming voice
The Astragonese soldier was manning the jeep's turret, it dulled the noise he made somewhat but still not enough to tune him out entirely. Still, what the man lacked in social graces he redeemed with his ability to turn hostiles into red paste with his machine gun. It was a skill they would likely need in short order.
“Listen carefully, the last village safely in government hands is here,” Isaac said tapping the circled Vorodenko/Volksburg
“The fifteenth motorized are holding it, barely though, they need the supplies we are bringing, or Eisenberg will soon be entirely cut off”
“So, drop off some goodies and get out?” Tetsuo asked in a thick skandan accent
“Indeed, we are not here to fight their war for them, we deliver and then we exfil! Anything on the way that presents an obstacle gets removed, am I clear” Isaac asked in a stern voice
Everyone agreed, getting in and getting out sounded pretty good, especially since the Vaasan’s seemed to be hiding behind every tree and under every rock. The enemy had already started executing anyone they caught with Stotski insignia, it would not be wise to be here when this region fell. They were here to get paid, not die for a foreign contract.
Up ahead the convoy was nearing a bridge across the local Vatski/Volksaar river, a Stotski jeep was presently moving close when it seemed to bump something with its rear tire. Isaac felt the familiar rush of adrenaline as he instinctively ducked and reached for his sidearm. The jeep evaporated in a sea of fire and debris as the IED detonated and reduced everything in its path to ash and smoke. The distinct reek of burning flesh and metal hit the nostrils as the gunfire started.
“AMBUSH!!!” someone roared in broken Mercanti over the radio
From the treeline muzzle flash filled the morning gloom, rounds pinged off the side of the vehicles and smashed into anything glass. A truck full of soldiers was riddled with small arms fire as the occupants were torn to ribbons by incoming fire. The radio was a chaotic blur of panicked voices and screams.
“N’Gele! Treeline now!” Isaac ordered
The Astragonese gunner responded with a volley of machine gun fire as the turret exploded into life, trees were reduced to splinters and gore. Still, the Vaasan’s kept up their assault, they had men to spare, the convoy not so much, Isaac knew a standing fight was doomed.
“All vehicles! We are moving! NOW” he yelled in Arcantstotskan over the radio
Vehicles started to move almost immediately, what little discipline remaining now channeled into escape from the Killzone. They rushed across the bridge, evading the burning wrecks of their former comrades as the escape got underway. Most got across in one piece, the screams over the radio quickly making clear that the APC crew had not been so lucky.
Isaac ordered the convoy to drive as fast as their engines would allow, they made for the village with all haste, leaving death and gunfire behind them.
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Vorodenko/Volksburg
The battered convoy arrived at its destination late in the afternoon, a small collection of shacks and houses that had seen better days. A battered wooden sign was hanging from a makeshift wall of salvaged wood it read “Vorodenko” the sign red in crude red lettering, for now, this was the last part of Arcanstotska not consumed by the wider Vaasan uprising. Guards in dirty uniforms pointed clean rifles at the oncoming convoy and barked commands for engines to be killed and hands to be raised.
Identification was offered, pat downs endured, and bit by bit the yelling began to die down as the guards realized that the convoy was Arcanstotskan and not Vaasan. They didn’t know what to make of the Blackwing contractors, the more observant among them did recognize the logo, however. Eventually, a middle-aged man in grey fatigues and no helmet marched out and ordered the guards to stand down.
“Bring the convoy in and close the barricade! We'll be lucky if we don’t get overrun with all this commotion!” he snapped in a commanding voice, this was obviously the leader
“You there, mercenary! Let's have a chat” the officer said with an authoritative wave of his hand, beckoning for Isaac to follow
Inside the relative safety of the village, the convoy began unloading its supplies immediately, arms, weapons, rations, and even the few surviving replacements from the original convoy all exited the trucks in short order. Tired men watched from their various posts, eyes bearing dark rings from lack of sleep and their uniforms a mess of dirt, sweat stains, and blood. These men had seen the worst that the free state could throw at them and somehow survived while everyone else had fallen.
Isaac was led to a large farmhouse; the windows had been boarded up with planks and another crudely written sign read “command post” in thick red pen. The inside was a cramped mess of supply crates, map boards, and radio equipment, a large desk occupied the far corner of the room, and a battered leather chair, which the officer lowered himself into with a pained grunt. Once seated he proceeded to reach into a waiting drawer and place a vodka bottle on the table, two glasses followed, one for the officer and one for Isaac.
“To your health mercenary,” the officer said before downing his glass with one swift motion
Isaac didn’t like to drink on the job, he liked to always stay sharp, still, he decided it would be best to stay on the commander’s good side, he mimicked the officer's motion. The vodka was cheap and tasted more like jet fuel than any of the vaunted black field grain it claimed as its base ingredient. Isaac rode out the burn as the alcohol worked its way down his gullet.
“I am Colonel Grygoriy Cherdenko and this shit stain of a village is currently the extent of the republic's territory, wonder if that makes me president” Cherdenko explained with a mirthless grin
“You command the 15th mechanized guards?” Isaac asked, surprised, the man looked light a tired high school teacher
“What's left of it, when we were ordered to fall back, I had over 1000 men, now I barely have 300 and nearly half are wounded” Cherdenko replied grimly
“Eisenberg is still in government hands, why not fall back there?” Isaac offered
“Because if Vorodenko falls, Eisenberg will be encircled and the Vaasans will do what they have done everywhere, they’ll round up anyone vaguely Szlav looking and put a bullet in their head, as long as we hold here there's a chance, we retreat and the whole region becomes enemy territory” Cherdenko replied in a determined voice
It was a noble sentiment, but utterly doomed if the current stalemate continued, Isaac guessed the supplies the convoy had brought would last maybe a week tops. The attrition would end with Vorodenko becoming Volksburg and the 15th mechanized becoming yet more martyrs to the republic. It was a gloomy assessment, one that Isaac hoped proved incorrect.
“I don’t expect a man that fights for money to understand, I do appreciate the supplies however, though command promised me twenty replacements and I note you arrived with twelve and major Leonid was not among them” Cherdenko muttered dismissively, picking up on Isaac’s cynicism
“We were ambushed, Leonid and several others died in the fighting, this is all that made it here” Isaac explained matter-factly
“Good men all of them, let's hope it wasn’t in vain, what about you?” Cherdenko asked his voice twinged with sadness and tired resignation
Exfiltration was meant to have come via a return across the bridge, which was now unlikely given it had become a prime ambush spot. Isaac would need to find an alternate route back to Eisenberg, no mean feat in a region crawling with separatist fighters.
“We will find another way; our original route is too hot now” Isaac replied trying to sound confident
“I might have a suggestion, though it would require one more service to the republic,” Cherdenko said his tone indicating he wanted something
And there it was, always a catch, an extra task, Isaac had no interest in dying for a foreign country or its ideals, he’d been there before. The allure of ideals had died with his homeland, now a paycheck was sufficient to get his attention, death for talking points like democracy or the freedom of Arcanstotskan citizens didn’t factor into it. Still, he didn’t have a lot of alternatives rising to present themselves, he would hear the colonel out.
“I'm listening,” Isaac said his tone uncertain
“The Voskova bridge is a few miles from here, it fell two days ago, it leads directly to Eisenberg, General Korkov promised me reinforcements via a tank detachment, but they won’t arrive unless that bridge is retaken, you’d be opening a vital lifeline and have a passage back to the city” Cherdenko explained
“Heavily defended?” Isaac asked
“Yes and no, they aren't trained soldiers, they’ve gotten careless, left a small number of guards while the rest of them roam the province, a small, determined force could take them by surprise” Cherdenko replied trying to sound re-assuring, like used car salesman from where Isaac was standing
“I have four men under my command, not enough to retake a bridge,” Isaac said bluntly
“Perhaps not but you would have a squad of my men to assist, and I'll throw in Sacha” Cherdenko replied trying to smooth things over
“Sacha?” Isaac asked
“My best sniper, a bit of a pretentious student but lethal with a sight,” Cherdenko said with a slight grin
“So, do we have an agreement?” Cherdenko asked
Isaac shook on it there and then, because of course he did, like he had a choice.
Continued in Part two
