Situation Foxtrot (SAO/Foxhole) [COMPLETE]

By the time you got enough of a resupply brigade together to make topping Zairman's tanks up a profitable venture, it was around 1400 and you could feel the hostile attention pouring out of the south of the hex. Intelligence scans were still coming in, even if the messenger corps was racing hell for leather to get the linotype scans over to you, and Foxcatcher was the sort of hell-fort you'd expect the enemy to have their own brigade ready and waiting for your entrance. Fortunately, though, since Kazoo had run off to ride the first bus to his regiment and Asuna was- somehow- still alive and on the frontline, you had nobody objecting to you going up to the frontline with a construction vehicle.

"General please for the love of God this is the stupidest thing you've done so far, just stay back at the bunker base!" Klasse yelled frantically.

Nobody was objecting at all.

Once you actually got into Weathering Halls, it was easy work for you to open up your Personal Ledger- an item that served as a menu interface for a number of non-character things- and start writing. Page for time as Lieutenant- you had to focus, to see the "regimental officer" under it- and then opposite for Captain, or "senior regimental officer" in more strict terms. Then there was "vice-commander of regiment," or Major, and then Colonel. Time in grade, units commanded, date of promotion, and there: current unit serving details. Regiment, 15e Flying Artillery. Specialty, artillery. Names, "High King's Valkyries", with High King regimental honorific.

Huh?

Going in, you peered deeper, hearing the faint sound of a skill check being rolled to see if you got the information. With a 'click', the information started resolving itself.

[King's/High King's Unit: A Title of Merit and signifier of excellence and callback to the times of when Caovia was ruled by a High King chosen from the coalition of smaller kingdoms, before the needed centralization around Whedon's Row and the formation of the Nevish Alliance Corps and the modern Caovish state. Now a ceremonial title, the King's Own are one of the best units in their field in their kingdom, traditionally only offered to the infantry and cavalry branches. The High King's Own title is offered to the best units in their field of the Nevish Alliance Corps in total- although, in the aftermath of the Breaking, it is very difficult to find units that begin to qualify for the honor.]

Well, that made your decision much easier for the next bit of, well, all this. The game enjoyed painting the Wardens as northern heroes, or at least a confederacy of people from the great north. Therefore, a nice Norse name wouldn't go amiss- Fólkvargr Guard Brigade. The army-field, as it were, and the realm of Freya where she kept her half of the honored dead in her hall of Sessrúmnir. Penning it in, you felt a soft fizzle, before looking down.

[Guards: Title of Merit not earned]

Well. That was odd. What was, therefore, a Guards unit then?

[Title of Merit: Guards. Awarded when a unit has stood in the defense of a Hex or Victory Point for three hundred days continuously, or was founded later and entrusted with the regimental colors of a unit that had made significant progress into earning the Guards title. Alternative award criteria: Stand in defense of a Victory Point and rebuild the Victory Point ten times within a 72hr period, preventing enemy capture of the Victory Point. May be awarded to Regiments or Brigades]

Yep. This brigade did not qualify, not at all. Erasing the Guards tag, you got on with naming. The Fólkvargr Brigade. A decent name, and you had to admit there were some cool bits in Norse Mythology. That said, it would be best if you got to choose which half of the honored dead you recieved: it would be best to leave the Marines to Rán after all. Thus always to sailors.

As the convoy pulled into Weathering Halls, people started piling out of busses as you leaned up on the town hall's blueprint while the CV crews started hammering. As truck after truck of supplies started getting handed out to tanks, one specific King Spire started rolling up towards you, a familiar face sticking out over the top of the turret.

"Orr!" Zairman said, dismounting the light command tank with a leap. "What on earth?"

"I got bored," you told him mildly. "You've got your unit's dog tags?"

"Most of them, yes," he said, looking at the town hall behind you slowly taking shape.

"Good! As soon as the other construction vics show up-" you said, the thundering jackhammer of another one starting to cut your off "-we'll get them back up and running."

"Good. Also," Zairman said, grinning, "Silica wants to know where you are, she's just gotten a message from Theresa."

"Wonderful," you muttered. "Tell her I'm at the Weathering Halls town hall."

"Uh-huh."

"What, I don't want to get my radio out," you said. "I left it in the staff car."

"Sure, sure," Zairman grumbled. "Silica's coming here by the way. She sounds upset."

"Well, I can handle that-"

[SYSTEMS ANNOUNCEMENT: WEATHERING HALLS HAS BEEN CAPTURED BY FÓLKVANGR BRIGADE OF THE WARDENS]

"-now, as a matter of fact," you said, turning around to walk into the crisp new Town Hall. Moving over to the radio desk, you clicked the set on with a heddy hum, before tuning in to the headquarters frequency.

"This is Weathering Halls Town HQ, General Orr speaking. All units, please sound off."

"Colonel Zairman with the General and Company Galina at Town Base Weathering Halls."

"Battery One, interdicting Revenant's Path. Lieutenant Calico in command."

"Battery Two, putting some heat on Shattered Advance. Sergeant Mihay commanding."

"Battery Three, covering the advance on the town. Sergeant Kaede commanding."

"Company Boris, covering the long walk between the mountain and the Battery Two."

"One-eleven Company Alpha, covering Battery One, commanding officer down."

"One-eleven Company Bravo, covering Battery Two, what's fucking left of us."

"Sixty-second, Company Able, covering Battery One. We're mostly ineffective, please stand by to send support. Captain Eisenhorn is still down."

"Sixty-second, Company Baker, covering Battery Three. We're taking sporadic mortar fire, CO still down."

Zairman spoke up over the radio then, calm and collected. "I've broken down Company Anna to support the rest of my troops. I don't think any formations have broken down entirely, but it's been a near thing."

"Alright everyone, good news and new orders time," you said, breathing carefully. "Good news, we've completed all objectives for the foreseeable future. Bad news, I expect a clapback any day now, so orders are simple: everyone settle down and dig the fuck in. If we're lucky, Fortress Foxcatcher won't have anything handy to make trouble with. I don't believe in luck, though. The construction vehicles will be coming out as soon as they're gassed up again, and I'm going to try my best to make sure everyone's new panic digs are well-supplied. In the meantime, hang tight. Support is on the way."

"Poetic," Zairman noted, "but it won't save you from running out of shit."

"Yeah, probably," you said, noting that Zairman was swaying on his feet. "Is something wrong?"

"Probably the speed wearing off again," he muttered, spreading his feet out a little to stay upright. "Had to split my ration with the gunner."

"You were taking speed. Amphetamines."

"Yeah, tanker tablets. They make it in Moors."

On one hand, you really didn't want Zairman to turn into a meth-head. On the other hand, he'd somehow managed to win this entire fucking tile for you. Shaking your head, you just got up and looped an arm through his, taking him to the ladder to the town's second floor. It was tricky, getting him up as he started sagging in your arms, but once you had his back it was easier.

"God, I'm tired," Zairman muttered. "Fuck. Tell Kynaz to make sure we're built up good when he's back. You're still short guns…"

Pushing him into a bed, you sat down and at least got his boots off as he tried and failed to sit up and stop you. "You don't need to," he muttered. "Can't fucking… Melanie, where'd you go?"

"I'm still here, Tymur," you said, holding his hand for a second. It turned into a fierce grip, though, as he started muttering in Ukrainian, too fast for you to understand. "Please let me go, I need to get back on the radio.

"No, can wait, stay."

"It can't wait, Theresa's coming with the supplies, remember?"

"Not for a few more hours."

Sighing, you just leaned down and gave him a small kiss on the cheek, the shock enough to open his hand and let you escape. "I'll be back soon. Don't worry."

With that, you slipped away down the ladder, back to comms and responsibility.

///

It was the next day, and Theresa had come stomping in, eyes blazing like hellfire as she came up to your desk. "Orr!" she yelled. "What in blazes?"

"Morning to you, Colonel Theresa," you said, smirking. "How do you like our new town?"

"I think it's a fucking bomb crater, but how the fuck did you get it?"

"I brought artillery, we cracked the border fort, and then Zairman decided to do a little trolling," you said, smirking like a cat that had caught the canary. "Nothing big."

"Yeah, well, your 'nothing big' just sent the backline into a fucking hurricane. Nobody knows who the Fólkvargr Brigade are, and more importantly it managed to get Hooker as mad as a fucking hurricane. He's opening up stockpiles of garrison supplies to bribe people into doing his logi, and he's got to have damn near a thousand of the back-benchers actually doing shit for once. The guy is pulling the trigger on his boat op tomorrow at four hundred in the morning or so."

You blinked, before leaning forward. "You can't be serious."

"Dead serious. The man's mad as a wet hen, and Tepes is launching even sooner."

"I have a telegraphy station, they can tell me this!" you snapped. "Silica! I need you to get on the horn with Kirknell and Quietus, those fuckers are getting ready to drop their ops!"

"Wilco!"

Sighing, Theresa just looked at you. "So now that we've got the good news out of the way-"

"-that was the good news?!"

"-it's time to talk cold turkeys."

"What do you mean, cold turkeys?"

Pushing her hair up, Theresa tried not to visibly grimace. "So. The railroad."

"What about the railroad?"

Sighing, Theresa pulled out her logbook. "We've got an issue. When I set up your logistics throughput, I decided we were gonna run most of your ammunition through a containerization system. All your 40mm is being handled through short containers we've been flatbed rolling, along with most of your B-mats and shirts. We've been using the rail for your fast response stock: stuff like more rifles, mortar bombs, infantry ammunition, and surge needs."

"And let me guess: you're having packaging issues?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Got it in one. Most of your 40mm ammo and B-mats were in short containers we had pre-packaged, standing by. Now that we're into high demand, I'm running out of containers and trucks- and The King is getting flooded by people using it for shipment work related to Hooker's little adventure. We can't get supplies onto the train fast enough, the containers spend too long in transshipment, and now that you're digging in we can't bus the loads out properly either."

Rubbing your brows, you stood up and started pacing. "My guys are beat to shit, and we're at roughly two-thirds list strength in trucks. Using the town hall as a depot and having the regiments pull down supplies isn't going to work: they need bodies at their bunker bases getting ready for the CVs. I only have three right now, and the other four I'm building aren't going to be enough considering I expect response any day now."

"I can't get you more trucks, and the trucks I do send across the border have the issue they're really unwilling to last leg it to bunker bases. This area isn't secure, and the drivers are nervous."

"We've got the road secured, though," you grumbled. "All the bunker bases except the anchor point on Mount Anchor are road-visible, even in the snow."

"You don't have garrisons up, though, and I'm having to crash-expand my driver corps. My logistics backline to Howl County here is buckling, and the fact is you're blowing through supplies too fast."

"So just… don't do anything?"

"If you can get away with it, yeah."

"If Hooker and Tepes are starting their assaults, I can't just do nothing!"

"Then just sit still, smack Shattered Advanced with some long-range artillery, and let me untangle things on my end," Theresa groaned. "Listen. We don't have the transit capability to sustain a surge yet. If you captured Port of Rime, I could get a naval sustainment regiment in here. As it is, though, you've outrun the railroad."

"Then get the Great Warden Railroad can start hauling ass and getting to the border," you snapped. "Listen, I've got a lot of stuff to reconstitute. There's a few containers of comps at my base, grab that, get them working. If they can move the railhead out of the border region, it'll probably be enough to fix things even if we have to re-wheel the trucks once they're shot off the end of the track."

"It takes a literal week for the pylons to cure!"

"Then we only need to hold for seven days!"

Rolling her eyes, Theresa pinched her nose. "Listen. I'll to work on that, scrounge some work crew up. That doesn't change, though, that you need to figure out what you're willing to give up until that rail link is online. You're using too many B-mats, too many shells, and too many shirts for me to be able to keep this entire force supplied with what I've got right now."

"So, what do I pitch then? I'm not going to bite your head off- or, well, I'm going to try not to."

"Tone down the artillery use, or the armor. 40mm shells are one of the big container items we're bringing in, and if I have to surge them for both armor and artillery ops you're going to be short. B-mats go well with everything, so those will stay a container good. The rest will go on trucks."

"I'll try and get everyone to come here for central distribution, but I can't promise that it'll work. Would putting some armor in as an escort work?"

"It'd be fuel-expensive, but I'm not having a problem with that. Sure."

Nodding at Theresa, you shook her hand, and got back to your desk. "Do you need to use the radio?"

"Nah, I'll be good to wait until I get to the railhead," she said. "Good luck with the next phase of the operation."

"Rime?"

"No, cleaning up after the johnny-come-latelies."

///

Hours passed. Shells flew out at Weathered Expanse. People dug in. You did the mail. It was a very boring few hours, even as trucks zoomed in and out of the remains of the town. Corpse after mangled corpse was thrown onto the tables, the snow stopping up the scent of rot, and time and time again the owner was brought back into it, now sans a sucking chest wound. Most of the bodies came from the Revenant's Pass- a unit had arrived there, armed with mortars and a grudge, spritzing down your constructions with long-range fires time and again. It didn't stop people from digging in, but it did slow things down immensely- especially when they managed to finish off the third fucking CV you sent there to build the bunker base.

Finally, at 2000 on the dot, Silica looked over at you. "We're getting chatter on the high bands; it looks like Tepes has started the assault."

"Good to know," you said, standing up and pulling on your ushanka. "I'm-"

"-If you say 'going to the front' Klasse's going to sit on you-"

"-Going outside, to tell Asuna to bring the battery up a tempo."

Wandering out, you quickly picked up Klasse, your perennial shadow, and started moving frontward. It was a few minutes drive to get to the gun batteries, their occasional report serving as a beacon. Once you were there, you found the humble bunker base Asuna had built- mostly trenchworks, with a crane and a few 1x3 patterns serving as dressing rooms, aide stations, and kitchens.

"Asuna!" you called out.

It took a few tries, but eventually she came out. "Yes, General?"

"Move to full operational fire. Tepes is starting his attack, and if we can batter the Relic a little he won't be pressed as hard."

"Aye, ma'am," she said with her mouth, while her eyes gave you the very annoyed "this could have been an email" glare.

"Relax, I'm not going to take over," you promised. "I just want to walk the line."

"You're the Colonel, I suppose," Asuna said. As you moved around carefully, you blinked at the amount of infantry in the trenches with your artillery. Most of them were helping out, hauling ammunition from boxes built by the revets up to gun crews, who were laying in their shots.

"We're going in at about four rounds a minute," Asuna explained after you observed the second gun taking a lazy course of fire corrections. "It's nice and slow, and lets the gunners correct for wind."

"They don't seem to be doing much rebuilding," you noted idly.

"Most of their forward lines are built fairly terribly, but there's a sensible core around the bunker base. I don't think we're doing damage, just undoing someone else's interdepartmental friction."

"If it comes time to assault, then we'll make it happen and they'll regret that. Until then, just keep shooting. I'm gonna head back to the town hall, and then take a nap. Klasse or one of the Ukes can get me rolling if shit happens."

"I don't think Tepes will have too much trouble," Asuna smirked as one of the gun pits started cheering. "I think Riley over there just got one into a bunker core."

"Then give 'em something nice in their coffee and call in when you finish mailing 'em back to hell," you joked. Heading back to the Town Hall, you yawned, before heading upstairs and rolling into a bed. Boots and hat off, it was an easy sleep to get into.

Your dreaming was fitful, a spiteful thing that echoed with the sounds of Wolfhounds firing in the distance as you heard peels of machine-gun fire going off. Memory didn't let you see the shape of the guns, but the dull thump of mortars accented the symphony of war echoing in your mind. The clatter of a telegraph key kept dancing in and out, the wired telegraphs whispering the doom of your people in one ear.

Eventually, Klasse woke you, a panicked look on her face. "Melanie, wake up! Melanie-!"

Blinking, you realized where your hand was, and how close [A Caovish Reminder] was to Klasse's eye. Shaking your head, you sheathed the dirk and rolled up to slip your boots on. "What happened?"

"It's about oh-four-thirty, maybe quarter to five. Hooker fucked his naval landing."

"Define, fucked."

"There was a Colonial regiment up in Rime from the Old Captain. Other Marines. They battle-barged up, and are schooling the Navy six ways to Sunday."

"They're just battle-barges," you snapped, jamming your ushanka on your head and going over to the coffeemaker to pour a sterile tin mug of the stuff. "How bad could it be?"

"We think there might be seven survivors from the Navy's second squadron. Possibly less. They had some sort of tripod anti-tank rifle, or cannon, or something on the battle barges. Navy said they didn't sound like Neviles, so they might be Typhons- whatever those are."

"Okay, so the Navy got its ass handed to it. Anything else?"

"They don't have the weight of fires off the 120s that are left to actually contest the defenders. They're having to redo logistics on the fly- Orr, what are you doing?"

"Making breakfast döner," you muttered, going into the heating unit to grab some shredded lamb to shove in a flatbread, before slathering it in garlic sauce. "After last time in Quietus, I ain't dealing with this bullshit on an empty hunger bar."

"People are dying out there!"

"Yeah, and if I fuck this up, they're gonna be even more people dying out there, instead of Hooker's scabs," you groused, going to the ladder. "Measure twice, cut once."

Getting down to your station, you nodded to Silica, who was getting quite close to some quality Gucci eyebags. Slamming back your coffee, you sat down and picked up the radiotelephone terminal on your desk while getting another pad of paper out to take notes on. "Silica, do we have contact with Tepes yet?"

"I've got a line to his border base, but whoever he has on comms has some serious QLF going on," she groused. "It's someone who says they're Cuirassiers, though, and he's not painting a good picture."

"How bad?"

"Massive, massive radio interference. If they stick to a frequency too long it gets whited out, and the storm's giving them hell too. Either way, it looks like he attacked on too broad a front, and had to pull the southern element in when he ran into enemy… what the hell is this?" Silica asked, looking over a ticker tape record of the telegraph. "Hold on, boss. I'm gonna double check, this is really bad signaling."

"Alright. Get back in touch, get this cleaned up, and try and see if we can get a common radio frequency to call Tepes with. Klasse?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

Wincing at the ma'am now that you were awake, you tried not to sigh. "Get a radio and a driver- actually, just take my staff Drummond- and get in contact with the line. Up and down, physical contact. Make sure we know where everyone is, what status they are, and how their supplies are looking. Start with the group blocking the Pass, and work West."

Breathing in, you just focused yourself, writing everything you were doing down between bites of döner. Finally, Silica grimaced, turning to you. "They've got armored cars, boss."

"Not surprising, so do we," you noted idly.

"Yeah, but they're backed up with the Tankettes- and whoever brought the armor seems to have doctrine. One of the cars has a pair of RPG launchers strapped on the turret, and they're working in pairs with the regular ACs and tankettes with a 12.7mm gun. The Cuirassiers broke, and the motor rifles are beating themselves raw to handle it. Nobody brought Foebreakers, whatever that is.

[Cutler Foebreaker: A tripod-mounted dual RPG, suitable for anti-armor or anti-fortification use]

Blinking, you threw that information in the back of your head where it went. "Tripod mounted anti-tank, we'll probably want some of it ourselves at this rate."

"Putting the order in," Silica said, yawning. "King says… oh come on, guys. King says they don't have any there, they'll put it on the docket for the next freighter out of Howl County."

"Good," you muttered. Slowly, your radio crackle to life.

"General Orr, this is Sergeant Klasse. Revenant's Pass to Asuna's Battery is good, going down the tail now."

"Wilco, keep hunting," you replied, before turning to look at the other communication desk-sitter who looked like someone had shown up with a warrant for him. "Hey, Reiko, something up?"

"General, I found the Navy comms," she said, gulping. "They're banged up bad."

"How bad?"

"Highest person on the net was a Lieutenant Kitsuragi. They had to beach their gunboats, and they can't keep their crane up to unload containers- they've already lost two supply Ironships to mortar fire. It's down to barges, and it's a ninety minute trip, one-way to Quietus. They landed with two hundred people, I think… they might have sixty left."

"There's no way they can call the landing off under fire," you muttered. "Do they have a bunker base?"

"A small one, yeah."

It took you a few minutes of deep breathing. They were fucked. Absolutely, tee-totally fucked. The question wasn't who was alive, the question was 'who died'. They were scabs, useless little shits working for Hooker because nobody was willing to go through with his insane plans.

"They're not going to get off that beach," Asuna said from behind you. Turning, you stared at her, trying to figure out when she'd gotten here.

"I don't care. They'll get back."

"Orr…" another voice came out, from somewhere. You couldn't tell whose it was, a rattling burst of 12.7mm fire cut it out.

"Why should I care?" you asked, throwing your sandwich down on the desk. "I get sidelined, we get the bottom of the barrel dregs, that some other fuckers try and skim off of."

"Melanie…" Asuna said, trailing off as you turned around, face tight.

"Why do I fucking care?" you asked again. "This shit goes wrong every few weeks! There's no golden hero to save us, and the only thing that happens when people try is they get more of us killed! How many of those corpses are we going to find out in the water, Asuna? How many Marines are we going to have to throw into our trucks with a fucking shovel?"

Flopping down into your chair, you swept everything off the desk with a frustrated scream. Your emotions were running wild, but your question wasn't "why should I save them."

"Silica, get on your radio," you snapped as you stormed over to the map rack. Grabbing one of Weathered Expanse, you slapped it down on your now-clean table. "We'll correct this shitfit once Klasse gets back. Scan every channel you find, and get locations and positions. I'm drawing up the battle map. Asuna, get as much fucking coffee as you can, then call your battery and get them ready for emergency tow. Reiko, get the 11e and 62e on the horn: I want them ready to redeploy off their bunker bases with a full war load. We're gonna have to shift posture. Tepes can, if he's not as incompetent as Hooker, hold our west flank. We're calling him next."

Whipping out your magic marker, you started coloring in the map: known forts, suspected forts, FOXCATCHER and its practically-required pile of cunts, Hooker's landing zone, Tepes' likely lines of advance, and your lines of supply. "Asuna, did Tepes go for Shattered Advance, or for Crow's Nest?"

"Shattered; he was getting pressed from the south it looked like."

"Then he can hold our right flank while we prosecute the left."

It took a few more minutes, but eventually you had all the unit locations penciled in- including those of Tepes' units, thank you Silica.

"Right. We've got two options- punch through Rime, or try and thunder run down the side of Mount Fuck-Fuck and clap through Wightwalk. Either way we do this is going to be bloody, and we won't be able to use everyone," you said, grabbing a fresh cup of coffee. Pouring the near-scalding liquid down your throat, you barely noticed the taste of boot leather and repression: it was time to kill. "Theresa's been honest with me: we don't have the options to use both the artillery and the tanks. If we thunder run it, we'll be hitting Fort Juliet, Wightwalk, and then doing the rescue. If we push through Rime, we'll need to hit the Colonial Marines, bleed out over Revenant's Passage, and then kick over a shitty and likely monodirectional fort before we provide relief."

"So really, the question is can your boyfriend do it again, or do we need to get ready to bleed ourselves white," Asuna grumbled.

"No, this would be everyone going south. We need the infantry to hold open the highway back: the 64e is good, but we have to support them right," you said. "The 1/11e and 62e will make the backbone and hold the line, then we fold back and retreat under the guns of the 15e."

"I think," Silica said, starting to turn pale, "that I'm happy I'm staying here no matter which plan you pick."

"Yeah, I wish I could too," you muttered. "But we can't wait for the colonels to get moving: this is gonna require me at the bleeding front."

"Just, don't get killed," Asuna said. "That would be bad."

"Don't I know it," you said, reaching into your coat for a cigarette. By the time you dug out an empty carton, you swore- until another pressed itself into your hand from behind.

"Tymur?" you asked, turning around to see your armor commander.

"I heard. My armor stands ready, no matter what you pick."

You smiled, pulling open the pack to get him and yourself cigs, before lighting them off your flint match. "Then it's time to smoke 'em if we got 'em."

///

Map




Vote

[] Into the Breech: You're taking Port of Rime. Today. Bulldoze a concrete plug through a kilometer-wide pass, and burn Rime to the fucking ground so you can open a relief corridor to the stranded Marines. You're going to pay for this in blood and treasure, but it's "safe": provided you finish the job in time, you have a secure line of retreat. The question is, can you do it fast enough?
[] The Thunder Run: On desperate ground, fight. You don't need to take ground for this plan to work, you just need to open a thin line to get people out with. With your armor assets, crack Fort Juliet and any other Wightwalk defenses, then swing north and de-entangle the Naval Landing and get them packaged up to evacuate. It'll be risky, but you know it'll save the most Marines if you can pull back out.