Situation Foxtrot (SAO/Foxhole) [COMPLETE]

Morgen's Crossing, you decided, would be a much prettier hex when it wasn't covered in light snowfall. It hadn't hit blizzard conditions yet- that storm was aimed to rake down the Basin Sionnach and Great Warden Dam to the Nevish Line- but it was enough to make you profoundly unhappy and for some people to start equipping the Winter Uniforms pre-emptively. You'd stick with your Adrian helmet for now, but the fact was you also had a skullcap under it, warm elk fur saving your ears and hair from the frost. As your trucks drove up to the wire with cases on cases of fresh thirty-mil in the back, it was easy to ram into the bunker core of "Fort Wesson". Taking a clipboard and signing over the material, the poor Dunne nearly screamed as the suspension de-stressed as the cargo transferred over automatically. As you jumped out and a teamster took the truck over to the vehicle park, you moved into the bunker core decisively.

There was no "officer on deck" nonsense as you wrote your name on a slip of paper and voted on the bunker upgrade, and there wasn't time taken to salute by anyone manning the core structure. Considering the continuous crackling of rifle and machine-gun fire, it was quite understandable. It took a minute for you to get into the 'headquarters' section, two patterns off the core, but you didn't regret doing so. Two radio stations were ringing off the hook, a chalkboard was covered in noisy pictograms, and a pair of desks were piled high with papers.

"Colonel Orr, I presume?" a young man at the central table said, pouring over a map of the frontline.

"That would be me," you replied, moving in. "You would be Captain Buckner?"

"Ayep. 15 Hussars, right?"

"Uhlans," you corrected, checking the map. "Where do you want us?"

"Dead center is where the defenses are weakest. They're building out of Fort Yankee, but it's not going to hold. We're already into their lines at night, and the Blakerows are a major advantage in night assaults."

"So, how do we use these guns anyway?"

"We, ah, we don't know," Buckner admitted, pulling up a detail section of the middle of the enemy line. "Well, we know the mechanics, but we don't have doctrine. Fort Echo fell because they built their bunker core into the main trench line like idiots."

"Then I need to make a plan," you muttered. "Four people to a gun should be able to carry everything, right?"

"Yeah. One gunner, one tripod-bearer, two ammo-carriers and security. You're going to want good security."

Your eyebrow went up. "Because?"

"Because they're doing a lot of short rush afternoon and evening attacks. Night attacks start at about twenty-two hundred and run to five hundred, so they like to hit us from seventeen hundred to twenty-one hundred."

"And I'm not having people try this shit in the dark, when your people are in the muster points and getting ready to go over the top…"

"So odds are you'll get jumped at least once, and the tripod guy can carry a Sampo or something for softening them up at range."

You sighed. "This is a custom tailored shitshow."

"You're telling me. Still, you'll be in friendly lines, so corpse recovery will be fast."

"Amen to that," you muttered, pulling out a cigarette to light off a kerosene lamp. As Buckner pulled out one of his own, you sighed. It was start of the midshift changeover in the command center, and that was enough of a cue to leave.

"Before you go-" Buckner said, stopping for a moment, before steeling himself. "-take this." He was holding out a pistol, bulky, with a magazine forward of the frame. Taking it, you pulled it out, seeing familiar 8x25 cartridges. Clearing it mechanically, you reloaded it simply- haul the bolt open, push the magazine up the well, and then watch your fingers as it hungrily snapped shut.

"A Cascadier?" you asked.

"Word came in that unless people sent in hate mail, we weren't making any more. I'll have to carry the revolver soon enough anyway, and you'll need it."

"Thanks," you said, before putting your light out on the timber of the bunker. Sticking it behind your ear, you fixed your helmet and went out. Outside, your newest up-and-coming NCO, Mihay, had managed to get everyone loaded up, and was carrying the gun.

"I see I'm promoted to security," you joked, adjusting your Sampo's strap.

"I actually kinda wanted you to bring binos." Mihay admitted, handing you a set. "I'll shoot, Xhosta has the tripod."

"Then let's go."

It only took a few minutes to get into the trenchline, and as you walked across the corduroy bottom the rest of the team behind you looked nervous. Even as other blue-coated forms ran around- some with cases of guns, others with piles of war loot or a dead body hucked over one shoulder- the shakes were present. This wasn't running around in a truck to the tune of an occasional gunfight, this was war. Corduroy planking soon gave way to mud, sandbag ridges on the top of the trenchline covering you from bullets and shrapnel. Too much of the latter was a constant sight, as the push forward left safety.

It wasn't long before you were in the last bunker to the front- a thin, canvass-topped affair with a firing loupe and sloppy shoring holding up the walls. It smelled of sand, sweat, and the blood of the dead blueberry by the back wall that was getting pulled away by the former occupants. It was a lucky shot, the section leader explained.

As Mihay made sure the gun was emplaced correctly, you started scanning with your binoculars. There were four bunkers in sight, and in the distance you could also see a pair of octagons where your people would be mustering up. It was still day, though, so they weren't there yet.

"Let's start with that little one, dead in front of us," you said, checking your binos carefully. "Range… forty meters."

"Thirty-five is what the sights gradient to," Mihay warned.

"Then set them to thirty-five, and we'll walk it in."

Sure enough, the first shot fell well short of the target bunker. It only took two more trigger pulls to start scoring hits, though, and soon enough there was a steady firing pattern going as shot after shot crashed into the thin-walled structure so similar to your own.

"Fuck," Mihey muttered, rubbing his shoulder. "This thing likes to beat up on you."

"Let me take a try, then," you offered, handing him your Sampo. As the larger NCO-to-be stepped back, you started running the gun. It took a half-turn to open the breech, then slotting in the thirty-mil shell, shoving it in with a few fingers as you cursed the oversized shoulder-pad. After that, it was a simple matter to flip the gun closed, flick the safety off, and line up on the grease pencil line on the gunsight. Zero in, and then push the button trigger-

-and get thrown on your ass from recoil, holy fuck. "I thought that thing was tripod-mounted for a reason!" you complained, standing back up to swing the breech open.

"You can see where my shoulder gets it from," Mihey joked.

"God's wounds, yes!"

Getting back up, you growled, opening the breech and watching the empty casing slam into the front of the shoulder brace. Another shell in, another firing drill down, and another shot went down-range. This time, it didn't knock you off your feet, but it still sucked.

You got off two more before making someone else get on with it, taking a minute to go out behind the bunker to smoke. In a caustic twist of fate, as you dug through your status menu you discovered that smoking did in fact lower pain- in exchange for being a light source, and more importantly being addictive. That was a concern for out of the game you, though, not in-game you. In-game you had to pick up the trench phone and call in for more shells.

The hours passed by, droll, and a handful of Blakerow-armed soldiers started manning the trenches by firing step and barbed wire hedge.

"Get ready, they're going to start coming up in packets now," one of the random blueberries said, voice tight. "Eyes front, MOVEMENT EAST!"

Snapping your rifle up, you jumped into the firing line and started blazing away. It hurt like a bitch, but that packet was getting into grenade range-

-and then you heard an explosion, your vision went white, and you fell back into a chorus of stabbing pains. Grenade shrapnel, you dully realized. Another packet had gotten behind you. That had been a Bomastone.

And now, you supposed, you were dying. As your eyes shut, all you felt was a float of white.

///

Death, you found out in this game, tasted like cloud.

"Hello," a soft, female voice called out. "I am the mental health assistant unit one. You have died. How are you feeling?"

"Like I want to get respawned."

"You will be alerted when respawn is available."

So. You're dead, and aside from tasting like cloud, this was a waiting room. The one good thing, you suppose, was it dressed you up nice at least- white mortuary robes, with all the trimmings. Now that you thought about it, the game was allergic to letting you wear white.

Aside from you, a few dozen Wardens- no, now they were just other people- fuzzed about. Since you'd died well inside friendly territory it shouldn't be long before you got back into it. Still, in the meantime, you could talk to one of the other girls here- wasn't that, ah, what's her name. Asuna?

"Hey," you said genially, sitting down next to her. "It going good?"

Her response was a hot glare. "No. We were supposed to be done by now, and I'm stuck here until corpse recovery gets me."

"What were you doing, then?" You asked, curious. She might be prickly now, but there was probably something more like the pleasant girl you'd seen after the snowstorm.

"War Bureau attache to the 13 Naval Infantry," she explained. "Fort Oscar and Fort Uniform were nearly connected, and my attack team didn't do well at all."

"That's rough, buddy."

"It's getting better," she muttered, "but this was still a mistake. There's no strategic reserve."

"The strategic reserve is called 'you are relieved by the 45 Infantry," you explained. "We blew clean through Eversus, and are re-orienting. Right now the plan is to strangle them and force a salient down to connect to you and cut the Rising Calm road. Then we pressure until they close the pocket."

"I don't like that plan very much," Asuna countered. "After all, I'm still dead."

"Don't worry!" you said, slugging her shoulder. "If nothing else, after this is done I'll lead my boys in and get you home."

"Good. I'm not doing another hitch as an attache," she explained.

"I'm not sure whether or not I'll be going back on the front myself," you muttered. "It's kind of terrifying."

"Oh, absolutely. It just makes going home to Kirknell all the sweeter, though, knowing I helped end this."

"It's still a lofty task."

Asuna looked up at the sky, still white fluff. "Sundowner gave us a way out. I'm not wasting one more day than I have to, letting that sick fuck burn my life away. Let the orcs come- we'll just kill them all, and let hell follow."

You opened your mouth to counterpoint, before a notice came in.

"Orr Melanie," the afterlife manager said. "Respawn is available."

"I accept," you answered, before shaking Asuna's hand. "If you need a place to stay, my bunker base finally has some spare room."

"But who are you?" she asked.

"Colonel Orr, 15 Uhlans-"

And then, in a moment of disconcerting vertigo, you opened your eyes to see the inside of a bunker base. Your shoulder hurt, your back prickled with fire, and an old bullet wound in your chest ached. Mouth coming closed, it was the easiest thing in the world to pick up a helmet and a Warden's overcoat, buttoning it easily.

"Welcome back, Colonel," Mihey said, smiling.

"Good to be back. Let's get busy."

///

Quest Mechanic: War Bureau Mechanics

The War Bureau may issue you a request or a requirement. Requests are optional items you may do in order to acquire additional War Bureau resources, such as manpower, training, or war materiel. Requirements are notices that, in order to continue having good relations with the War Bureau and all rights and privileges thereof, must be completed in a certain time frame. In addition, the War Bureau will ensure to the best of their ability to keep information flowing, and provide status reports on all hexes with a War Bureau presence.

///
Status Reports

Morgen's Crossing: Operation completed, Colonial lines breaking. Local Security Operations will complete encirclement of Quietus. Status green.
Clanshead Valley: Supplies flowing normally, King operating normally.
Viper Pit: Supplies flowing normallly, enemy raiders nominal, Kirknell operating normally.
Callahan's Passage: Naval defenses operating, enemy raiding intensifying. Bunker lines holding.
Nevish Line (SIGINT/OSINT only): Salient is being persecuted aggressively, supply needs high, Callum's Cape and Moors supply not high enough in throughput. Recommend organizing withdrawal or safe water logi route. Status red.
///

VOTES

WAR BUREAU REQUEST: Set up a Bunker Base in Morgen's Crossing to provide domestic QRF tasking.

BUNKER
(Choose One)
[] Expand your bunker base with additional infrastructure to sustain larger troop numbers.
(Base is currently set to auto-expand by 1x Small Pattern/turn)
[] Expand your bunker base with Defensive Patterns (Requires techniques, vote to begin development)
-[] With small patterns
-[] With medium patterns
-[] With heavy patterns
-[] With artillery firing positions
-[] With infantry fighting positions.
[] Develop a new bunker base in a better location
-[] In Morgen's Crossing, near Eversus (This is needed to fulfill War Bureau request)
-[] Write in hex and town/Relic, as well as distance to front line or intended purpose.
[] Get your builders to stop expanding the base for now.
[] Gift, Assign, or Abandon a bunker base.
-[] Write-in base by location. (You only have the one!)

PERSONNEL
(Choose One Two!)
[] Go and recruit more personnel
-[] Mass recruitment: whatever you can get, get more of it! (Recruits 4d10 White personnel)
-[] Selective recruitment: Look for people who aren't clueless. The Logistics Union has a lot of folks. (Recruits 3d10 Green personnel)
-[] Picky recruitment: Get people who are at least as skilled as you are! (Recruits 2d10 Yellow personnel)
-[] Frontline recruitment: Go to the front and snag some blueberries! (Recruits 1d10 Orange personnel)
-[] Elite recruitment: Go find a group of lunatics, and shanghai them. (Recruits 1d10 Red personnel)
(You cannot recruit units of higher rating than yourself.)
[] Commit training!
-[] Vehicle training: Teach everyone drive good. Car goes on right hand side of road, revolutionary concept. Might as well also learn to drive a flatbed, or your Drummond if you're feeling nice.
-[] Rifle training: Everyone will spend time practicing the fine art of "bullet go plink"
-[] Administration Training: At some point, you're going to figure out the fine art of delegation. Some point.
-[] Infantry Training: You've spent some time on the front, it sucks. Get better so it sucks less.
-[] Mobile Warfare Training: You know how to fight out of a truck bed. Now it's time to get good at that.
[] Extra work shifts
-[] More Scroop: Get everyone to do more rounds of scrooping at the scrap fields. You do your part, and more importantly, can use the B-mats to get useful stuff like more trucks or dedicated equipment.
-[] More Mines: Get everyone to do more rounds on the component mines and oil wells. Components mean R-mats, R-mats mean flatbeds. God, you want a flatbed.
-[] More Building: Put everyone to work on getting your bunker upgrades planned. If you don't have some planned, the bunker will get what the troops think it needs.
-[] More Logistics: Put everyone to work on hauling more truckloads of stuff from point A to point B. Whoever's manning the bunker base at the border to Weathered Expanse will be very happy to get more gear for the inevitable offensive.
[] Begin operational planning for Something Big
-[] Write-in Something Big. May generate Billets.