“We’re five minutes out.

”
The interior of the Hydra assault boat was dim, lit only by the
various monitors and panels lining the walls of the cabin. Rias had
been sitting quietly, arms crossed and leaning back against the wall,
but the words coming through his earpiece made him sit up. He
glanced up at the large digital map on the wall opposite him,
showing their GPS coordinates and distance from their destination.
The blinking red dot that represented their ship was rapidly
approaching the coast. It was difficult to hear much over the whine
of the ship's engines, but Rias could still make out the sound of
explosions in the distance. The shelling of Telar seemed to have
started as planned.
“Alright cadets, listen up.”
Nikita Wolf stood with a hand on the cabin ceiling for support.
The captain was already tall but she looked enormous, having to
crouch a bit so she could stand comfortably. She was shouting so
that her voice would cut through the other sounds of the ship.
"The assault on rebel-held Telar began one hour ago. Airstrikes
have crippled their air support and special forces have already
eliminated all enemy Psyches in the city, so we’re just mopping up
ground forces. We’ll be making an amphibious landing at the port,
where rebels have holed up in the warehouses.” Nikita paused,
looking at Rias, then the other two cadets in the cabin, before adding
“remember your training. Follow my orders. First round is on me
after.”
Rias smirked. Niki hated drinking. She always had, ever since the
first time they got their hands on that moonshine in primary school.
“Tighten up.” The words sounded far more clear than what the
earpiece Rias was wearing could produce, followed by the familiar
feeling of not being alone in his head. A pang of nostalgia struck
him as he thought back to being children, Niki’s voice lulling him to
sleep from across the academy’s campus. He couldn’t remember the
last time he’d heard her like that. Not since before she graduated, for
sure, and that was two years earlier.
"Check your gear and get ready, cadets," Nikita barked, looking
directly at Rias. This didn’t go unnoticed by Alexei, who sneered at
Rias, though he pretended not to notice. Instead, he leaned down to
slide the long, narrow case beneath his seat out and into view. Using
both hands, he deftly flipped the steel latches securing the rugged
black container and lifted the lid.
The gleaming silver blade within reflected what little light there
was in the cabin once it was exposed. Rias lifted the weapon by the
hilt, closing the case and sliding it back under the seat with his heel.
Running a finger along the back of the blade, he gave it a light tap
before thumbing the activation switch for the sword's heating
mechanism. The blade immediately began to glow bright orange,
and the gust of hot hair on his face caused Rias to draw his head
back even though the weapon wasn't near it. Satisfied, he
deactivated the blade and stood.
Nearby, Alexei and the third cadet, Orren, had stood as well.
Orren was the tallest of all of them and nearly doubled over trying to
stand in the cramped cabin. Fortunately, he also traveled the lightest.
Orren didn’t even use a weapon, but Rias had seen time and time
again that he didn’t need it. Alexei never unsheathed the long,
wickedly curved blade at his side. Instead, he stood, arms crossed
with his index finger pointed up; a small flame dancing at its tip.
After all these years, the sight still made Rias feel uneasy, though he
of all people had good reason.
The sound of exploding artillery shells was growing louder by the
second. Rias glanced back to the map on the wall and saw their
blinking red dot was almost on top of the shoreline. As if on cue, his
radio crackled to life.   
“Sixty seconds out,” warned the pilot, and without warning the
trio of rotary cannons mounted on the Hydra roared to life. Rias
thought they sounded something like chainsaws, and he imagined
whatever their rounds were hitting felt similarly.
“Stack up!” Nikita ordered, and the trio of cadets fell in line at the
ship’s exit hatch. Once they hit the beach, that hatch would drop,
and they would have to move or die. Rias let go of his sword with
his hand, though his mind retained its grip on it. He guided the blade
through the air and carefully spun it into the scabbard on his back.
Their first goal was getting to cover, and he wanted his hands free.
The Hydra lurched uncomfortably as it plowed through the
breakers on its approach to the port. From what Rias remembered
from the briefing, their ships were landing on the beach just outside
the port proper. Three other Hydras with Osirian Marines would
land along with them, and it was his team’s mission to lead them in
securing the port. Intelligence suggested they were only going to be
dealing with ragtag rebel ground forces, so the risk was low, but
Rias’s stomach was still in knots. He wondered if the other cadets
felt the same.
Orren was a stoic man, but Rias knew him well. They had been
friends for years, with Orren being a few years older and to Rias,
much wiser. Rias reached out, giving Orren a reassuring pat on his
shoulder. He turned, giving Rias a toothy grin and wink, before
shifting his attention back to the hatch that would become the ramp
they’d use to exit the ship.
The Hydra’s rotary guns began to wind up again before
unleashing a torrent of bullets screaming towards the coast. Rias
thought about giant trees being felled, sending birds soaring into the
air in great flocks searching for safety. Faintly, he heard the bassy
whine of the rotaries on the accompanying assault ships carrying the
marine detachments open up as well.
As if punctuating the dull roar of the cannons, the ship rocked
unsteadily as its bow struck the beach. All four of them lurched
forward, bracing themselves on the ceiling, and a loud buzzing
alarm preceded the hatch dropping onto the sand. Sunlight flooded
the cabin; the brightness coupled with Orren’s massive frame in
front of him meant Rias couldn’t see much of anything. The smell of
fire immediately stung his nostrils. He could see the city skyline as
Nikita, Alexei, and Orren started moving forward and he followed
closely behind. Massive plumes of smoke coiled up towards the
clouds in the distance like long, ghastly fingers reaching up to
strangle the sky.
Unabated by the thick armored walls of the Hydra, the sounds of
exploding artillery landing elsewhere in the city echoed in Rias’s
ears as his boots sunk into the sand. To their right and left, almost
simultaneously, more Hydras hit the beach with loud metallic
groans. The group fanned out while running up the beach with Rias
taking the right flank, and finally he was able to take in more than
Orren’s back. The rocky beach where they landed wasn’t far from
the docks began. They were mostly empty save for a handful of
small, personal vessels; likely thanks to the Osirian Navy’s blockade
of the port. A single road ran parallel to the beach, and the husks of
numerous burned-up tanks and light armored vehicles sat unmoving
on it, smoldering like unlucky ants in the sun. Fires still raged in
some of the LAVs, their sides pocked with countless bullet holes.
These were the unlucky targets of the Hydra’s guns. A single corpse
laid near one of the less visibly damaged tanks, though it was so
badly burned there was no making out any details other than that the
body belonged to a human. About one hundred meters down the
road, the first of four large, red warehouses stood. Rias recognized
them as the target buildings from the photos shown during the
briefing. Beyond the port, the city began, with what was probably a
typically busy boardwalk void of life facing the ocean. The only
vehicles in sight were a handful of other destroyed tanks, likely hit
by airstrikes.
The thunderous sound of rotary cannons hit Rias like a hurricane,
the unmitigated sound leaving his ears ringing as he followed the
bright orange tracer rounds from the Hydra to its target. A tank had
rolled onto the boardwalk and was barreling towards the marine
detachments that had taken up positions on the beach. Rias was
staring right down the barrel.
“Move!”
The words reached Rias as the tank gun’s barrel erupted in flame.
Instinctively, he focused on shielding the incoming shot, and the air
before him shimmered briefly as the kinetic shield was willed into
existence. In a flash, Rias was on the ground, knocked aside by
Orren’s hulking form. The sound of the round striking Orren was
sickening, like meat being tenderized by a sledgehammer. Rias
expected to turn and see his friend in pieces, painting the beach red
with bone and sinew. As he looked up, still gathering himself, he
saw Orren still standing with one broad shoulder raised; tendrils of
smoke rising from the tattered cloth that once covered his arm. The
round that had struck Orren laid on the ground by his feet, its
formerly aerodynamic tip smashed flat. Orren flashed Rias a toothy
grin, rubbing his shoulder as if he had a muscle ache.
Twelve rotary cannons opened up at once, sending rounds
screaming at the tank like a swarm of locusts. They pinged
harmlessly off the vehicle’s thick armor, and Rias knew that inside
the crew was loading another shell into the tank’s main gun. The
turret was slowly swiveling towards the beached Hydras, and the
twenty or so marines lying prone in the sand. A sense of dread filled
him. He couldn’t see their faces. They were concealed by the
standard-issue combat helmets they wore, but he imagined them
staring at him in fear, willing him to get up and stop them from
being blown to pieces. Pushing himself off the ground, Rias rose to
his feet and started towards the tank, wondering why the rotary
cannons had ended their cacophony.
He didn’t make it ten feet before he saw the bright orange of
Alexei’s sword, trailing behind the cadet as he leaped through the air
towards the tank’s right flank. The blade whipped through the air in
a wide arc as Alexei flew past the tank and the superheated blade
sliced through the barrel of its gun like a scythe cutting through
wheat. The barrel hit the tank’s chassis with a loud, metallic clang
and fell unceremoniously to the ground. This was met by loud
cheers from the marine detachment as Alexei landed in a crouch, the
curved blade of his sword rapidly fading from bright orange back to
its usual silver sheen.
Unsatisfied with the extent of the damage done, Alexei stood and
turned with his free hand extended towards the neutered war
machine. For a brief moment, it looked like the sun was burning in
his palm, and Rias squinted to watch as the tiny orb expanded into a
ball of roiling flame the size of the tank. Alexei’s long jacket
billowed around him, tossed about as the fireball devoured the
nearby oxygen to grow, and soon he was but a silhouette against the
burning sphere - like a planet passing in front of the sun. It was hard
to be sure, but Rias thought he could hear Alexei laughing. He hated
the sound.
In a flash, what Rias has come to think of as a mini-sun was
careening towards the tank. It struck the side with such force that the
layers of metal buckled inwards and the vehicle flipped onto its side,
skidding a few feet, creaking and groaning all the while. The fireball
was gone, leaving a crater in the tank’s side that smoldered like a
snuffed-out fire pit. Alexei brought his sword around, sliding it into
the scabbard at his side while casually walking towards the upended
tank. The top hatch burst open, hitting the ground with a loud clang.
Rias watched, frozen, as a bloodied hand reached out from within
the wreckage. He had experienced all kinds of death and chaos in
simulations, but this was different. From their distance, Rias could
barely make out the callous smile on Alexei’s face as he rounded the
tipped vehicle and looked into the portal. He could hear muffled
shouts and cries coming from inside the tank, and they grew louder
and more frantic as Alexei extended his hand towards the opened
hatch.
“Stand down!” Nikita shouted, pointing a finger at him. Rias
watched in horror as that mini-Sun flickered to life again. This time,
a torrent of flame erupted from it, streaming into the tank’s interior.
The men inside screamed as they died.
Orren’s voice pierced the brief silence that followed. “Left flank!”
he shouted, pointing towards the docks. About a dozen people,
armed with an array of small arms, were rushing towards them.
Some had already taken cover behind the scattered wreckage on the
road. Rias thought they looked like anyone you’d see on the street,
except with tactical rigs and rifles. He noted they all had red rags
tied to them: some on their arms, some around their necks, some
worn as bandanas. The rebels didn’t have a standing army, therefore
no uniforms. These were just average people.
Rias, Nikita, and Orren dashed for cover as bullets came flying in
their direction. Orren crouched behind a tank that looked like it
rolled over a mine, its entire undercarriage a mess of tangled metal.
Rias and Nikita pressed themselves against the side of a light
armored transport, its entire frame perforated from front to back
with bullet holes. Rias couldn’t help but wonder how many dead
were inside, and what their remains must look like. He dismissed the
thought as rounds zipped past them, turning to Nikita in hopes of a
plan.
There weren’t supposed to be any tanks left. There also weren’t
supposed to be many enemy soldiers. Definitely not enough to
attack an entire marine detachment supported by four Psychers,
even if three of them were cadets. This was either a last, desperate
stand or the rebels knew something Osirian intelligence didn’t. It
left Rias with a pit in his stomach, growing by the second as they
hid from the suppressive fire.
Nikita looked calm. More than that, she looked focused. Rias
knew that look. She was right beside him, but she was also
somewhere else. He remembered when she graduated from the
academy. She was stationed on the other side of the province, but he
still found her in his dorm occasionally. She’d be sitting on his bed,
her form hazy, like she was an oasis and he’d been lost in the desert
for days. Her big, brown eyes would look up at him and she’d say
something like “Hey Ri! Surprised to see me?” And he never was.
They were inseparable for as long as he could remember. Things
weren’t like that anymore.
“Intelligence really dropped the ball here,” she finally said, her
eyes focusing on Rias as she came back from wherever she was.
“There’s far more rebels holed up here than previously thought. I
counted at least fifty.”
Rias’s eyes widened. He looked over at Orren, who surely
couldn’t hear them over the gunfire. He looked fairly unbothered. A
bullet pinged off the ground by his foot, covering his boot with
concrete dust. Orren scrunched his nose and idly kicked the blown-
up tank, knocking the dust off his boot. He looked up and met eyes
with Rias, flashing that trademark grin of his and giving him a
thumbs up.
“Fifty?” Rias asked, turning back to Nikita. “We have, what,
twenty marines with us?” He looked over to the marines, still lying
prone on the beach near the Hydras. They were waiting for orders,
he gathered. Not everyone was like Alexei. “Can we handle that?
Should we call for backup?”
Nikita looked thoughtful for a second. She was looking at the
marines, hands resting on the butts of the pistols holstered at her
hips. Alexei had joined Orren behind his cover, though he stood
with his back leaning against it, arms crossed over his chest.
“There is no backup. Osirian forces are pushing into the city from
the north. They’ll be clearing street to street for days. Maybe
weeks.” She paused, eyebrows raising as if she just thought of
something. “That’ll probably be your first mission after you
graduate, actually.”
The idea of graduating couldn’t be further from Rias’s mind. He
was worried about surviving. For the first time in his life, Rias was
frustrated with the Osirian military. He’d heard stories of flagrancy
regarding the lives of their soldiers, but he never put much stock
into them. People said the regular rebel forces were mostly ex-
Osirian military. Rias never believed it. Now, he wondered.
“There’s something else,” Nikita said, looking solemn but
unmoved. “There’s a Psycher here. Maybe two. I’m not sure.”
Rias felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He thought about the
last time he sparred with another Psycher, reaching up to run a
finger along the scar that bisected his right eye. He was in the
infirmary for three days. Briefly, he glanced over at Alexei, and felt
an anger rising up in him.
“What do we do?” he asked, turning his hazel eyes back to Nikita.
“Even if we can complete the mission, most of them…” he trailed
off, looking to the marines. He didn’t need to finish the thought. She
knew.
 “What do you think we should do?” she asked, looking oddly
calm. Rias envied her composure. He was also taken aback by the
question. He was a cadet, she was a lieutenant in the Osirian Special
Forces. Why was she asking him?
“Me?” he replied without thinking. Obviously she meant him. She
just continued looking at him, awaiting a response.
Rias started thinking. Years of classes, training, theory, and
exercises went through his head. None of it made any sense in this
situation. Everyone has a plan until they got shot by a tank. He knew
what FUBAR stood for, but now he knew what it actually meant.
“We need to force these rebels back. If we can get them to retreat,
we can safely get those marines off the beach.” He looked at the
marines as the gears turned in his head, and slowly the dread turned
to something like hope. “We have three squads. If we can utilize two
of them to keep the rebels pinned in the warehouses, we can send
another around,” he pointed towards the boardwalk, “and they can
attack from the rear. They’ll need support though. Orren should go
with them. He’ll protect them with his life.” And he would.
“Soldiers die,” she replied. Rias couldn’t help but be upset by the
callousness. “But that’s a solid plan. What about the Psychers?”
Rias wracked his brain, trying to formulate a solution. He hated
the only idea he had.
“Alexei can handle them.” He stated it so matter-of-factly that he
found himself hating the idea even more. “Especially if you and I
are backing him up.”
Nikita appeared pensive for a moment and then nodded as if she
had done some complicated math in her head and was satisfied with
the conclusion. “Essentially what I was thinking,” she answered,
turning to look towards the man who just moments before had
single-handedly disabled a tank and ruthlessly executed its
inhabitants. “I’ll be recommending a court-martial for that war
crime,” she said with detached focus, “but unfortunately he’s our
best bet right now.”
Nikita reached up to touch her earpiece and began to speak into
the squad radio, “alright boys. Orren, you’re going to push these
rebels back with two of the marine squads. Alexei, you’re staying
with me and Rias after that stunt you just pulled. We’ll be taking the
third marine squad and looping around through the city to attack
from the flank. There’s an enemy Psycher in there, possibly two.
Eliminating them is our priority. Rias will stay with the marines.”
If either of them reacted, Rias couldn’t tell. They both nodded and
Orren gave a thumbs up. Before Rias could further question his
plans, Nikita had switched channels and was giving orders to the
marine detachment over the radio. He mostly thought about the
people’s lives who would soon be in his hands and what was going
to happen if there truly were two enemy Psychers waiting for them.
“Remember your training.” He heard Niki’s words in his head, but
this time it was just a memory.
“Alright cadets,” Nikita’s voice crackled through their earpieces.
“Move out.”