Chapter 1: Patrol Here
Middle East 2014
They say war never changes. In one thing, they’re right. War never changes when it comes to deaths, victims and why we have it. Let me tell you something, war changes when it comes how we wage it.
War has changed.
It's no longer about nations, ideologies, or ethnicity. It's an endless series of proxy battles, fought by mercenaries and machines. War - and its consumption of life - has become a well-oiled machine.
War has changed.
ID-tagged soldiers carry ID-tagged weapons, use ID-tagged gear. Nanomachines inside their bodies enhance and regulate their abilities. Genetic control. Information control. Emotion control. Battlefield control. Everything is monitored and kept under control.
War has changed.
The age of deterrence has become the age of control... All in the name of averting catastrophe from weapons of mass destruction. And he who controls the battlefield... Controls history.
War has changed.
When the battlefield is under total control... War becomes routine.
I’m Edward Smith. 17 years old and a Member of the PMC Praying Mantis.
I know what you’re asking: Ain’t I too young for that?
Well, yes, but with the Sons of the Patriots, short SOP or as we call it the System, even teenagers can be soldiers.
The System has three main functions. The first allows multiple members of a military unit to share each other's senses and work more efficiently as a team. But also privacy doesn’t exist but I got used to being monitored all the time.
Like a unit of a network of computers. Each man is able to see what the others see, feel what they feel, and rapidly coordinate tactics. This provides a massive tactical advantage to whomever use it.
Secondly, it monitors the chemical balance of every soldier engaged in combat. This allows the Nanomachines to induce an artificial "combat high" by controlling the release of adrenaline and endorphins, elevating the senses and accuracy of every soldier. Furthermore, it allowed accurate monitoring of a soldier's oral intake and excrements (water, food, and sweat).
This refined information allows commanders to make more informed decisions on the flow of combat. Soldiers under SOP also have their emotions suppressed so that they felt less fear and remorse than other soldiers might. One's sense of pain was subject to the same treatment, preventing minor injuries from distracting a soldier during combat. I heard that low oxygen concentrations in areas at high altitude, such as mountainous regions, could cause negative effects on the Nanomachines, resulting in unusually aggressive behavior in soldiers, but there were no reports that this happened so far.
I was scared at first but the system took away my fear.
The third main function of SOP is to monitor and control the use of weapons on the battlefield. Each soldier's weapon is “ID locked”, only authorized individual soldiers can use that particular weapon. It can also prevent soldiers from firing on their own, committing human rights abuses, and attacking their own clients.
Useful if an enemy gets your weapon.
I actually never joined for money or for the excitement. My father was in a PMC called Diamond Dogs, then Outer Heaven, and I joined Praying Mantis to keep his honor alive after he died in 2005 as member of Next-Generation Special Forces
Mother told me that he was a loyal soldier but cared for me and mother above everything else.
I have brown eyes and black hair, wearing a black ballistic helmet with Bolle X800 goggles. We Praying Mantis were known for our haki flight suits and tactical armor. We wore also black fleece SPEAR-style jackets under our Land-CIRAS armor vests and balaclavas as well as headsets.
I wore a balaclava as my father did. It was cool to me.
As every other PMC, I had a SCAR-H, Mk.17 Mod 0 as primary weapon. It has a 20 round box magazine. Before, we used the M4 Custom, a highly modifiable M4A1 carbine, based on the M16 rifle, primarily used by the U.S. military. While one of the most favored weapons by the PMCs, but the Mk.17 can easily be configured in mere minutes for CQC, tactical or precision fire thanks to its interchangeable barrels, and is an ideal Personal Defense Weapon due to its compact size and design.
While some users dislike the Mk.16 and Mk.17 because of the placement of its reciprocating cocking handle, which can painfully interfere with the shooter's support hand, depending on grip preference, I never had problems with it before with the grip.
As sidearm, I have a Granite Series Revolution, GSR for short, 8-round single stack magazine, with moderate stopping power, relatively low recoil. An upgraded yet different M1911 you could say.
I had an interest for German and soviet weapons.
We were deployed in the Middle East against a local militia as most soldiers of Praying Mantis had experience from the Iraq war.
This region had not seen peace for a long time. As far as I know, the region suffered from chronic high unemployment with lots of households just barely scraping by. Children growing up in this environment didn't have the chance to get a decent education, and there wasn't enough opportunities for them to go abroad and find work, either.
So, the Middle Eastern militiamen as we call them fight for a living and their families as they have no other choice. I felt sorry for them and the children, but the System kept me from showing it.
I doubt this war will be over soon or that the militia will be successful, as they are very inexperienced in battle, firing from the hip, cowering behind cover and firing blindly at us. Only their instructors have experience as they fire from the shoulder like us and give out tactics via hand signals, similar to us.
They lose many men, more then you or I could count.
Right now, I was in a Stryker APC, with some other soldiers and my buddy Jones, nicknamed buzzer as he is a radioman and wears a baseball cap instead of a helmet.
We got out guarding the rear, while the rest was deployed to the front of Ground Zero as we called it.
As we patrolled, Buzzer let out a sigh. “Nothing, nothing, and more nothing. I don’t get it what’s so important about this area.”
“I heard there are some hidden supplies for the militia here.”
“Yeah, and?”
“You have had your hands on any of the weapons these guys are supposedly armed with? Suddenly it's not just Molotovs. They've tapped into some old ammo dump or something. They're turning up with weapons we'll never get permission to carry, like RPGs and HK21Es. I would like to get my hands on one of those AK-102s. One of the best weapons the Russians ever made!” I exclaimed.
“Forget about that. The local ammo cartridges undergoing abnormal combustion, causing them to undergo excessive pressure and eventually fuse into the gun chamber, causing it to jam. No, thanks. Still want a Makarov PPM or a Mauser C96?” He asked as I told him once about it.
I chuckled. “You can bet on that!” The Makarov it was one of the best weapons ever made, at least for me.
We patrolled past an alley as I saw a box in it but ignored it.
As we passed it, I heard a strange noise.
?
“Did you hear that?”
Buzzer shook his head. “No. Must been your imagination.”
Just as we were about to move on, I heard crying.
“Don’t tell me you don’t hear that.” As I said this, I saw a colorless question mark over his head.
“Yeah, I hear it. Let’s check it out.” We moved into the alley were the crying came.
“Hello?” I called out and I saw the box flinching. Whatever was under it was scared. Buzzer saw it too, confirmed by a colorless exclaiming mark above his head.
Curious yet carefully, I pulled the box up to see what was under it.
We were both surprised to see a crying foal with purple eyes, orange mane and yellow coat. The foal looked up.
Once it saw us, it panicked and crawled backwards against a wall.
“P-please d-don’t h-hurt me.” The foal was scared. Very scared.
Either the heat is too much for me, or the Nanomachines have a malfunction.
I threw that away as buzzer also shook his head.
As the foal was still trembling in fear, I knelled down and spoke in a calming tone,” We won’t hurt you.” I lowered my weapon and stretched my hand out to pet her.
At first, she trembled more, fearing I would hurt her, but relaxed as my hand stroked her mane.
Then she got up and cried into my leg.
“Shh, it’s alright.” I looked up to buzzer. “What should we do, we can’t leave her.”
“Report to HQ. She should be safe at our base.”
“W-what?” she asked scared.
“Listen, we don’t want to hurt you. Here drink something.” I gave her my canteen. Drinking in a heat like this is very important to counter the water loss through sweating.
She took a sip. “Thanks Mr.…”
“Edward Smith. You can call me Edward. This is my buddy Jones nicknamed buzzer. What’s your name?”
“Noi.” She replied. “You’re soldiers I suppose?”
Giving her a light smile I replied, “Not exactly. We’re members of a private military company.”
“A PMC? In Equestria there was one years before I was born.” Noi’s eyes began to water. “Mama…” she cried.
“Shh, we’re here for you.” We had compassion for her even with the system suppressing it.
While I had a Peltor COMM-TAC II Headset to report to HQ, buzzers headset had a better range and connection to it.
He used his headset by putting his left hand on it.
“Come in, HQ.”
“This is HQ.”
“Patrol here. We…” He didn’t finish, instead he suddenly held his head in pain, grunted in pain and dropped his weapon.
Then he collapsed and laughed uncontrollably. He loved it to be a radioman and was happy being a radioman.
I was about to ask, as I suddenly felt a big headache, the biggest I ever felt in my life!
I also collapsed and started to cry, as I felt sorry for the militia men, civilians and children.
Noi watched everything in shock, unable to understand what was happening.
For some reason, all my previously suppressed emotions were suddenly released a great shock I never thought I would experience.
After some minutes I believe, I could pull myself together and stood up.
I felt… different. Free from the System, no suppressed emotions, I could no longer hear or see buzzer moving or breathing.
Checking him, I saw foam and blood in his mouth. The shock was too great for him, he was dead.
“What happened!? There’s something wrong. Support unit, conform their status.” The radio buzzed.
I looked after Noi. She looked in shock at Buzzer and me.
“W-what happened?”
“I don’t know.” The shock and compassion we experienced when seeing her must have been too much for the System. Wait, I’m disconnected from the System!?