[OUTDATED, RIP Nikolai] Chapter 2 - Canterlot
[Pvt. Nikolai Degtyarev - Russian Ground Forces]
[May 15, 2010, 0600 Romeo Time]
[Outpost 12 (formerly Hornby Glen Golf Course), Hornby, ON, Canada]
Somewhere near Mississauga, the Russian military outpost established in Hornby was keeping a constant watch to the south for any sign of hostile activity. Hamilton had fallen under US control yesterday, and the Russian Army had no choice but to fall back to Toronto. Current orders were to hold the line and await reinforcements.
Located near Toronto, Pearson International Airport was under Russian control, and that airport was their lifeline in getting men and supplies to Ontario. If the airport falls, they would lose Ontario in a matter of days.
For Nikolai Degtyarev stationed at the outpost, he had been up all night, keeping an eye out for Americans. Like most of the soldiers here, there wasn't a whole lot of time to rest, not when the enemy's out there. But after hours of guard duty, he could really use the time to recharge his batteries. Thankfully, one of the soldiers tapped him on his shoulder to inform him that he was taking over his shift.
“Hey Degtyarev,” said Fedor. “Go get some rest. I'll take it from here.”
Nikolai nodded. “Spasiba, Fedor. Another hour longer, and I would've just collapsed.”
He climbed down from the watch tower and made his way over to the mess tent. Inside he found his squadmates – Andrei, Pavel, and Vitaly – sitting at the same table and enjoying a hot meal.
“Privyet, Nikolai!” Andrei waved. “We've just got off our shift. Grab some food and sit with us.”
Nikolai waved back and walked over to the chef on duty. The chef greeted him with a nod, giving him a tray packed with bread, beef stew, cucumber salad, and a cup of tea. With a meal in his hands, he sat down at the table and began conversing with his squad.
“So, how was watch duty? See anything interesting?” Pavel asked.
Nikolai shrugged, rubbing his eyes. “All quiet out there, which is odd. I half expected the Americans to push forward after taking Hamilton, but it looks like they're too tired to push forward.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Andrei said. “Let's counterattack and retake the city!”
“With what? Sticks and stones?” Nikolai shook his head. “You know our orders, we're to stay put and await reinforcements.”
They resumed eating, often sharing some jokes or stories at the table. A sense of normalcy before having to return to the battlefield.
“Did you hear?” Vitaly said all of a sudden. “The Americans took back three provinces yesterday.”
“Da,” Andrei nodded. “What a shame. At least we still have the northern provinces under our control, as well as British Columbia and Alaska. Hopefully, we should be able to get more men to stage a counterattack soon.”
Pavel sighed. “What went wrong? A few months ago, we were making great strides, capturing Alaska and marching across Canada. The moment we came this close to invading America, we came to a standstill. What the hell is going on?”
“It's because of their defense line at the borders,” Andrei said. “They're putting everything they've got to prevent us from stepping into their country. They've also got the Canadians helping them out, and their army hasn't been completely wiped out. They're persistent, I'll give them that. They'd rather die fighting than let America fall into our hands.”
“And now we're stuck here, waiting for the Americans to overrun us,” Vitaly added sadly. “Have you heard about what's going on back home?”
“About the anti-war protests? Why do you think we're lacking manpower?”
It was no surprise that everyone has heard of the anti-war protests going on in Russia. Shortly after their failed invasion of the US, Russia lost its support from their South American allies, and their hold on Europe was slipping as they focused their efforts on Alaska and Canada. The people of Russia started seeing this war as a waste of time and life, and began demanding for an end to the conflict. The government saw this as an act of insurrection and started relocating many soldiers to quell the protests going on across the country. This leaves a huge problem for the Russians in North America, they were lacking the manpower they needed to push through the American defenses, and to keep a hold on occupied Canada. They were stretched thin, and were slowly losing the war again.
“How's that for irony? Our families want nothing more than for us to return home, and our leaders are sending us home to silence them.” Pavel shook his head. “Ironic.”
Andrei nodded. “And I thought we'd be going to war for Russia, NOT against Russia. How are we supposed to win a war when you're asked to fight your own people as well?”
“Not enough men, not enough supplies,” Vitaly muttered bitterly. “Feels like we've been left to die.”
Nikolai continued to eat his meal silently, all the while listening to his squad talk about the situation back home. He didn't need to say it out loud, but like his squadmates and a small size of the Russian Army, he was against this war with America, and he hated what his country was doing right now. Every day, every week, he questioned his orders and his purpose in the military, and had even gone so far to disobey some of his orders, particularly those involving atrocities against civilians in occupied territory. Nikolai was basically serving his country without even serving at all.
It was a miracle that he hasn't been court martialed for insubordination, else he'd be in a cell right now. Either way, he didn't care whether Russia wins or loses this war. He just wanted to go home and see his sisters again.
“Nikolai,” Andrei said, breaking him out of his trance. “You're not saying too much.”
Nikolai sighed. “Just thinking of home...and my sisters.”
Before joining the army, Nikolai had lived in Vladivostok with a family of five. Just him, his parents, and his three sisters – Masha, Nastya, and Tatiana. Masha was the youngest of the siblings, with Nastya being the middle child. Tatiana was the second oldest, and Nikolai the eldest brother of the family. They lived well for a time, and like many, they aspired to make the world a better place.
Nikolai had just finished university and was about to start his career as a teacher in Novosibirsk when tragedy struck. Both of his parents were killed in a railway accident, and he had no choice but to put his career on hold and help take care of his sisters. He did some odd jobs around his home city, paying off the bills and keeping his sisters fed. When things started looking up for them, war was declared, and Nikolai got drafted into military service. Since then, he had fought in the conflicts ranging from Europe to the Middle East, before being transferred to the frontlines in North America.
For a time, he served his country proudly, knowing what he was doing was not only for the betterment of Russia, but for his family as well. Now, he just wanted to go home. He'd seen enough war and death to last a lifetime.
“I've forgotten that you even have family,” Pavel said. “I thought it was just you ever since that-” He received glares from Andrei and Vitaly before realizing his mistake. “...oh, sorry Nikolai.”
Nikolai waved it off, not insulted at all. “It's alright, Pavel. It has been a while since I've last spoken to them.”
“You barely speak of your sisters,” said Vitaly. “How are they?”
“They're doing well. Masha's just about finished with high school, and Nastya's just started her second year of university. As for Tatiana, she's still working at the hospital as an intern.” He then gave a sad sigh. “Masha's birthday is coming up this week, and it looks like I'll be missing it again this year.”
“Well, maybe you can ask the commander if you can get an early leave,” Pavel encouraged. “You're on good terms with him, so maybe he'll understand.”
“I don't know about that,” Nikolai said. “With things as they are, I doubt that I'll be given a chance for leave.”
“But you haven't seen your sisters for what? Almost two years?” Andrei asked. “There's no harm in asking the commander to grant you leave. He'll understand.”
Nikolai lowered his head in thought. “Still, I wouldn't want to leave you guys to fend for yourselves out here.”
“Quit worrying about us,” Pavel said. “We can handle ourselves out here. It's you that hasn't seen your family in a while. So, go for it! Ask the commander for a short leave.”
Nikolai couldn't help but smile back. He could always count on his squad when he needed them. Not just in battle, but for comfort in tough times. “I guess I can talk to the commander later today. It really has been a while since I last saw my sisters. He'll understand.”
“That's the spirit, Nikolai!” Andrei patted him on the shoulder. “And when you get back and see your sisters, tell them we all said 'hello'!”
“Say,” Pavel nudged Nikolai. “Do you think you can ask Tatiana if she's still single?” Nikolai responded by roughly elbowing his friend's ribs. “Alright, alright! I was joking!”
Nikolai just smirked and resumed his meal. As things seemed to resume back to normal, a loud siren was heard outside the tent, putting everyone on high alert.
“What's going on now?” Vitaly groaned, grabbing his rifle off the table. “Another drill?”
“Possibly. Between all the false alarms and drills we've been doing, I can't even tell the difference anymore.” Andrei replied.
“Wait! Listen!” Pavel hushed. “Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
At that moment, there was a loud whistling sound, followed by a loud explosion outside the mess tent. The shockwave sent seats and tables flying all around. Nikolai and his squadmates fell backwards, shaken and alarmed.
“Shit! Blyat! Damn!”
“What the fuck was that?!” Andrei yelled.
“What do you think, you dumbass? We're under attack! That's what's happening!”
The tent flap opened and the commanding officer marched hastily into the mess tent. “What are you four standing around here for? The Americans are attacking us! Get to your positions and defend this outpost, on the double!”
“Yes sir!”
“Nikolai,” the commander began. “You and Vitaly head to the primary watchtower. There's a sniper rifle and a bunch of ammunition sitting there. Vitaly, help spot for Nikolai.”
“Understood, Comrade Major,” Nikolai saluted. “Vitaly and I will deal with the mortars right away.”
“Then get going, soldier, and try not to die!” said the Major.
The whole squad exited the mess tent and proceeded to their battle stations. Outside, things were going to hell real fast. Artillery and mortars were raining down onto the outpost, destroying buildings, tents, and vehicles. Soldiers ran around the base, trying to stay alive. On his way to the watchtower, Nikolai could see one young soldier sitting on the ground, covering his ears and crying as bombs were going off. From the looks of it, things were about to get a whole lot worse.
Eventually, Nikolai and Vitaly made it to the watchtower. Heading up the stairs, they found a Dragunov sniper rifle leaning against the wall inside the tower, along with some ammunition.
“There's your gun,” Vitaly said. “I'll spot targets, and you take them out.”
“Got it,” Nikolai grabbed the rifle and loaded it, sighting the rifle for a thousand yards. Vitaly peered through his binoculars and began spotting out targets.
“Artillery spotter, 800m, by the burnt-out tank in the open field!”
A light squeeze of the trigger, and Nikolai saw his target drop through the scope. “Target down.”
Vitaly continued spotting. “Another spotter, 1100m, at the collapsed utility pole, near the gated mansion!”
Another shot from the rifle. “Enemy is dead.”
For the next three minutes, Nikolai and Vitaly inflicted heavy casualties on artillery spotters, snipers, and any infantry nearby. Suddenly, a squad of scout cars came speeding through the open field.
“Enemy vehicles coming from the open field! Nikolai, take out the drivers!” Vitaly shouted.
Nikolai took a deep breath and steadied his aim. He focused his crosshair onto the driver of the first vehicle. He fires, the bullet successfully hitting the driver, causing him to swerve out of control before being launched into the air and landing upside down, killing everyone on board. Nikolai was about to shoot at the next car when he saw the mounted gunner take aim at the tower.
“Vitaly! Get down!”
Dozens of .50 cal rounds pierced through the sheet metal, forcing Nikolai down on his stomach. When the bullets stopped flying, Nikolai turned around to see if Vitaly was alright. He backed away in shock and disgust when he saw Vitaly laying on the floor in a pool of blood; a gaping wound in his chest. His mouth hung open and his eyes were wide and lifeless.
Nikolai went over to check his friend's vitals, but there was no need to do so. Vitaly was dead. Letting out a sad sigh, he gently closed the eyes of his fallen comrade, before getting back into the fight.
Suddenly, an explosion was heard below the watchtower, followed by a low creaking noise and unstable shaking. Before he could even react, the tower fell over and came to a jarring crash. The crash threw Nikolai out of the fortifications and onto the muddy ground. Groaning, he got up and made his way to the trenches, where most of the soldiers were holed up. Spotting his squad, he landed next to them and began shooting at the Americans in front of them.
“Nikolai! What the hell are you doing here?” Andrei asked. “Shouldn't you be in the watchtower? And where's Vitaly?”
“Vitaly's dead,” Nikolai replied glumly as he took out another enemy. “The watchtower is also gone.”
“He's dead?” A shocked Pavel asked before shaking his head sadly. “Shit...”
“We'll mourn him later. Right now, let's focus our attention on the Americans,” Andrei said, before ducking from the rounds flying over his head. He pointed to a dead ally nearby. “Take that Kalash off his hands. I doubt he'll need it anymore.”
Nikolai slung his sniper rifle and went over to the dead soldier, taking the gun off his hands. The weapon was an AEK-971 with a grenade launcher attached to the bottom. He grabbed some ammo from a supply crate before rejoining his squad.
“Get ready, here they come!” A wall of thick smoke shrouded the field as the Americans deployed smoke grenades to conceal their movements, before charging towards the trenches. The Russians opened fire, taking out as many hostiles as they could, all the while taking casualties on their end.
“There's too many of them!” Pavel cried.
“Stand your ground!” Nikolai called out through shots. “We must hold them back, otherwise we’ll lose the province!!”
The fighting continued for another fifteen minutes. Every three seconds or so, one Russian and one American soldier would be killed in the hailstorm of bullets. Eventually, the Americans started falling back.
“Look! They're retreating!” Andrei pointed.
“That's right, run! Run home to mommy you American bastards!” Pavel taunted, firing back at the retreating Americans.
“We've won!” Everyone began to celebrate as they saw their enemies falling back into the wall of smoke. Nikolai, on the other hand, had a sinking feeling that this was far from over.
“No, this is bad. This is very bad,” he muttered.
“What are you talking about? We just kicked their asses!” said Pavel.
“They wouldn't be retreating unless they were down to a handful,” Nikolai said, bringing his rifle to eye level. “If they're pulling back all of a sudden, then that means we've just entered the eye of the storm.”
A low noise was heard from the wall of smoke and the ground shook slightly. “Hear that? Something's approaching from the smoke!”
All the soldiers readied their weapons towards the wall of smoke. The noise grew louder and the shaking became more intense. Suddenly, a barrage of bullets and shells came flying out, followed by more tanks and infantry.
“Hostile armor and infantry advancing on our positions! All units, engage!”
The Russians did their best to repel the advancing enemy from breaking into their outposts, but there were just too many of them to handle. Even though they had tanks and light armored vehicles at the outpost, there just wasn't enough to hold back the tide of American tanks. Before long, their own vehicles were getting scrapped. Outpost 12 had one attack helicopter, but even that was shot down before it got a chance to engage the enemy. With casualties mounting and their outpost about to be overrun, they had no choice but to call for air support at Pearson Airport.
Andrei picked up his radio and started calling for help. “Airport, this is Outpost 12! Our position is taking heavy fire and is dangerously close to being overrun! We're taking casualties from hostile armor and infantry! We cannot hold out any longer! Requesting immediate air support at our location! How copy?”
The radio crackled in response. “Outpost 12, this is Airport. No longer in a position to provide support. Stand your ground and await further instructions.”
Andrei gave an incredulous look. “What the hell are you saying? We're fucking surrounded over here!”
“Outpost 12, you'll have to hold out with what you've got. Stand your ground and await further instructions. Out.”
Andrei tossed his radio to the ground. “Can you believe this shit, Nikolai? They're unable to provide air support!”
“Never mind them, just hold the line! We've been through worse before, and we can get through this!”
“Enemy fighters! Incoming!” Pavel pointed to the sky.
In the horizon, a group of American F-18 fighter jets closed in onto the outpost, their noses almost touching the ground. Nikolai's comrades did their best to shoot them down with anti-air missile launchers, but the enemy fighters were prepared, deploying countermeasures to steer the missiles away. Finally, the F-18's were close enough to launch their missiles down onto the trenches. Streaks of white flew towards the trenches as the jets pulled up. Chaos broke among the ranks as the soldiers attempted to escape from the incoming missiles.
“Back! Everyone fall back!” Andrei yelled, running for cover.
Missiles exploded from left to right, tossing Nikolai around as he fled from the trenches. Finally, a single missile landed behind him, the force sending him up into the air, before the ground came rushing into view, and everything went dark.
******
“All units, this is Major Petrovich. The Outpost has fallen. All surviving personnel are to fall back to Mississauga and defend the Airport. Repeat, fall back to the Airport!”
“Nikolai...Nikolai! Wake up! Now!”
Nikolai awoke with a jolt, seeing Andrei and Pavel standing over him. They breathed a sigh of relief to see that their friend was alive.
“Boy, you are one tough son of a bitch, you know that?” said Pavel. “For a minute there, I thought that was it for you.”
“I'm fine,” Nikolai said, as Andrei helped him up onto his feet. “What happened?”
“Things have gone to shit,” Andrei explained. “The Americans have broken through our defenses, and we're scattered all around. Most of us are either dead, captured, or making their way to Mississauga. The Major has just given the order for any survivors to fall back to the Airport.”
Nikolai dusted himself clean before retrieving his weapon from Pavel. “Then I guess this place is done for. How do we get out of here?”
“The truck depot isn't too far from where we are, which is the armory and barracks,” Andrei pointed. “We dragged you over here when you were knocked out, and our comrades have set up a defensive position while we evacuate the wounded to the truck depot. If we can make it to the truck depot, we can hitch a ride to Mississauga.”
The sharp whistle of an incoming mortar landed nearby and destroyed the last of the men covering the evacuation. “Then let's get out of here. I think we're about to be overrun.”
Not wanting to wound up dead or captured, Nikolai, Andrei, and Pavel made a run for the truck depot, dodging bullets and explosions along the way. The truck depot soon came into view, and relief washed over them. There were still vehicles on the premises, and evacuations were being made.
“There's the depot!” Pavel pointed. “We're almost out of here!”
They ran at full speed and waved at the trucks, yelling at them to not leave them behind. As they got closer, their hopes of escape were dashed when one of the trucks exploded. American tanks and infantry appeared in the distance to cut off any last chance of escape from Outpost 12.
“Damn it!” Nikolai cursed. “That was our only ticket out of here! Now what?”
Andrei looked around, trying to find another way to escape from the area without the Americans spotting them. He looked back to the direction they came from. “This way!” The three of them turned around and made a run back to the armory and barracks.
“Andrei, why are we running back in the direction we came from?” Pavel panted. “Shouldn't we look for another way out of here?”
“The armory has some heavy armor and weapons,” Andrei explained. “If we can gear up and arm ourselves with the big guns, we can fight our way out of here!”
“That's your plan?!” Nikolai exclaimed. “All you're doing is getting us killed!”
“Well, what else can we do? There's no other way out of here, and I'd rather take my chances shooting my way out of here than be captured by the Americans. If you're wise enough, you two would do the same thing.”
“That's assuming the armory hasn't been picked clean,” Pavel added.
“Guess we have no other choice,” said Nikolai. “Fine, we'll go with your crazy plan. I didn't come all this way to die now.”
The armory was a large metal shack placed near the barracks. As the building came into view, the three of them were suddenly spotted by a group of American soldiers sweeping the camp for survivors.
“Heads up! We've got hostiles!”
“Shit!” Andrei fired his weapon at the soldiers, before he and his squad dived behind some barrels for cover. A small firefight broke out between them and the Americans, each man peeking out of cover to let loose a few shots. In the chaos of it all, a stray round hit Pavel in the neck, knocking him down to the ground. Nikolai retaliated by firing a 40mm grenade directly at the Americans, finishing them off for good. With the Americans dealt with, he and Andrei focused on their wounded comrade. Pavel was clinging to his neck, choking as a pool of blood formed around him.
“Oh shit! Pavel, hang in there! You're going to be alright!” Andrei said, as he frantically dug around for his IFAK and attempted to treat his friend's injury. Nikolai, however, just stood there, watching as his friend slowly lost consciousness. As much as he hated to admit it, Pavel's fate was already sealed. He placed a hand on Andrei's shoulder.
“Andrei, he's gone.”
“Don't you give up on me, мой друг (moy drug),” Andrei muttered as he applied pressure to the wound. “You've come too far to die now...”
“Andrei!” Nikolai forcefully grabbed his friend. “There's nothing you can do for him. Pavel is gone.”
The two looked over at their now deceased friend. Like Vitaly, he had died with his eyes wide open, the life completely extinguished from his pupils. Andrei sighed, gently closing the eyes of his friend and saying a quick prayer for him. Afterwards, he stood up, staring off into the distance with fire in his eyes.
Up ahead, more American soldiers began moving in towards the barracks, accompanied by an LAV-25. Andrei loaded a fresh magazine into his weapon, and stood his ground.
“Nikolai,” Andrei whispered. “When I give the signal, run to the armory. I'll hold them off.”
“Are you crazy?” Nikolai asked. “I'm not doing this without you.”
“It's alright,” he said. “Just promise me that you'll make it back home: to Russia, to your sisters.”
Andrei readied himself, preparing to charge towards the enemy. Nikolai placed a hand on his companion's shoulder. “Andrei, please...”
He turned to Nikolai and smiled. “Go, братуха (bratuha). I'll take it from here.” Taking a breath, Andrei let out a mighty cry and charged forward. “Hey bastards! Over here!”
“Andrei!” He reached out, but held back, taking his friend's word and heading for the armory. Andrei was already engaging the Americans.
“Enemy spotted!”
“Shoot him! Shoot him now!”
As Nikolai made it into the armory, he closed the door halfway and watched the firefight between Andrei and the Americans. Andrei had managed to kill a few soldiers, but he also appeared to have sustained some injuries. He was shot in both legs, his left arm, and left hip, but he continued to stand strong, unfazed. He had picked up another AEK from somewhere and was dual-wielding them like the Terminator. Nikolai couldn't help but be impressed. Despite his injuries, Andrei was really hurting the Americans.
The LAV turned its attention to Andrei, aiming its main armament towards him. When both of his guns ran dry, the LAV fired a single, high explosive round near his feet, propelling him into the air. He landed on the ground, battered and bruised, as the LAV pulled over and let out its passengers.
Andrei was not dead, however. He dragged his broken body towards a crate and sat himself up against it. He was about to draw out his sidearm when a lone American walked over to him, weapon raised. The American was a young, bearded man wearing a gray beanie over his head. He noticed Andrei going for his gun and was trying to get him to surrender.
“Don't even think about it buddy,” the American spoke in a calm, southern accent. “Just give up. No one else needs to die today.”
Nikolai was listening to the whole thing through his radio, as he watched Andrei and the American stare off. He knew enough English to know that the American didn't want to fight Andrei anymore, and that he only wanted him to surrender. Nikolai radioed Andrei through his earpiece, as he watched him slowly go for his gun.
“Don't do it, Andrei,” Nikolai whispered. “Don't get yourself killed for this.”
Andrei wasn't listening. He continued to reach for his sidearm. The American readied his weapon.
“Andrei, don't...” Nikolai pleaded.
In a swift motion, Andrei drew his sidearm and took aim at the American before him.
“DON'T!”
In an instant, Andrei was gunned down before he could even fire off a shot at the American. Once he lay lifeless, the American gently removed his hand away from his sidearm. Overcome with grief, Nikolai locked the armory door and slumped down to the floor, letting out a breathless sob. It was just too much for him. First Vitaly, then Pavel, and now Andrei. He was the only one left in his squad.
“Why didn't you just surrender, Andrei?” Nikolai muttered. “Why did you have to go for your gun?”
As Nikolai sat there, heartbroken, a bright fire started burning inside of him, as he felt an uncontrollable rage overpowering him. He got up and started digging through the armory for something he could use. To hell with Andrei's plan, and to hell with surrendering. There was no chance that he could escape unscathed, and the Americans were bound to search the armory soon, so he may as well kill as many of them before they killed him.
Finding a set of heavy armor, Nikolai donned on the bulky vest and a bulletproof helmet for protection, replenished his ammo, and grabbed whatever grenades he could carry. He had also rigged the armory with all the C4 he could find. When the ammo runs dry, he could just clack off the entire building with a single detonator.
Suited up and fully armed, he pushed a heavy desk in front of him as cover, waiting for the Americans to come in. Sure enough, Nikolai started hearing the Americans outside.
“I think this is their armory. It's all sealed up, though. How are we going to break through?”
“Get an engineer over here. We'll blowtorch our way in.”
As the Americans discussed ways to breach the armory, Nikolai decided it was a good time to give one last phone call to his sisters. More specifically, Tatiana. He had a satellite phone on him, so he could technically call them from anywhere around the world. He dialed Tatiana's number and waited for a response.
The phone rang for a few more times before transferring his call to a voice messaging system. “Hi, this is Tatiana! I'm currently unavailable to answer my phone right now. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you! *BEEP*”
Nikolai sighed. He had hoped to get to talk with Tatiana, but she was most likely working right now. Then again, it was probably best that he left a message for. He didn't want her to worry. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Hey sis, it's Nikolai. I know we haven't talked in a couple of days, but I hope you and the rest of the girls are doing well.” As he thought of what to say next, there was a smell of burning metal, followed by the familiar noise of a blowtorch cutting through metal. Realizing he was running out of time, Nikolai quickly said what he had to say before making his last stand. “Listen, I promised that I'd return home for Masha's birthday this year, but unfortunately...things happened, and it looks like I won't be able to make it again this year. In fact, I'm not going to be able to come home anytime soon. I'm sorry. I know I made a promise earlier, but you know, duty calls. I'll make it up to you all, I promise.”
Nikolai glanced back at the door to see that it was halfway cut. “Well, I should get going now. Tell the girls I said 'hi', and that I'm always thinking of them.” He breathed shakily. “...Love you, sis. See you later.”
With that, he hung up and aimed his gun towards the door. It won't be long until they breached the armory. As he readied himself for a fight, a bright flash of violet was seen in his peripheral vision. Nikolai swiveled his head towards the source of the light – a fancy gold chalice of medieval origin, sitting on one of the tables.
He blinked in disbelief. He didn't recall seeing a gold chalice in the armory. If he had, he would've noticed it immediately. It appears to have manifested out of thin air, but that wasn't the strangest part. The strange part was the purple aura surrounding it. The way the chalice glowed on its own was...unnerving.
Now ignoring the enemy at the doorstep, Nikolai slung his weapon over his shoulders and approached the table. He lowered his hands towards the chalice and picked it up. As soon as he touched it, the light from the chalice grew brighter, and before he could even comprehend what was going on, the light overtook him. And then, silence.
******
[Elsewhere...]
Small rays of light blinded my sight as I came to my senses. Once my eyes adjusted to the light, I sat myself up on the bed I found myself laying in and examined the room I was in. All around were rows of beds with small desks in between them. There were also a couple of large windows in between a few beds, letting light into the room.
“Looks like I'm in some kind of infirmary...”
I got up from my bed. My weapons and equipment were gone, and all I had was my uniform. What exactly happened? Oh right, I got teleported to a world full of talking horses. That's what. All because of this little pocket watch I found on the battlefield.
I dug around my pockets to find the watch, but all of them turned out empty. Guess they confiscated it as well. Hard to believe that little antique was responsible for sending me here. The question is, how? But more importantly, where am I?
I decided to have a look around the infirmary. The beds were all empty, and there were no doctors or nurses on duty. Near the exit, there was a medicine cabinet and a desk with a large mirror in front of it. Upon inspecting myself in the mirror, I made an unbelievable discovery. The cuts on my face, the ones caused by the RPG shrapnel, had miraculously healed up! The stitches and bandages were also gone as well. It was as though I was never even wounded in the first place.
I gently brushed the left side of my face, still unable to process how it was that the scars were gone. Scars like that take years to fade, or never at all. At any rate, thinking about it won't get me anywhere. I needed to find out where I was and who's in charge around here. Guess I'll just leave without the need of a doctor to sign me out.
I was about to step out of the infirmary when the door opened by itself, and standing before me was a tan-colored mare dressed in a nurse's uniform. She was looking away from the door, focusing on the bundle of fresh bed sheets she held in her hooves. When she finally turned around, her eyes widened and her jaw dropped when she saw me standing in front of her. Can't say I blame her. It's not everyday you see a giant alien monkey standing before you.
We both stood there, eyeing each other, not knowing what to say for the longest time. It was then that I finally spoke.
“Um, hello?”
The nurse dropped the bed sheets and slammed the door shut. I heard the door being locked on the other side, to which I immediately tried to force the door open. “Hey, wait a minute! I'm not here to hurt you! I just want to know where I am!”
With no response on the other side, I promptly gave up and started pacing around the room. My mind was racing constantly. Where did that nurse run off to? Is she getting security or something? What's going to happen to me? I wish I had a gun on me right now. Not that I don't trust these ponies, but I would feel a whole lot safer with a gun in my hands. Still, if I end up dead, I guess dying in a world of talking horses isn't the worst way to go.
After a few minutes of waiting around, I heard the door behind me unlock. I turned around and saw a pony who was tall as an adult horse with wings and a horn. A crossbreed of the species that Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo were, perhaps? She, for her figure was that of a mare, had a multi-colored mane and tail, and wore a crown over her head. Guess she was the big shot around here. She was surrounded by a few guard ponies dressed in armor similar to that of the Roman praetorian guards. All of them wore an emotionless expression and were armed with spears. At the sight of their weapons, I stood up tall, not letting my guard down.
The taller pony looked at me for a moment, sizing me up, before smiling warmly. She spoke to me in a tone that was authoritative, but motherly at the same time. “Well, I'm glad to see that you're awake, Preston Marlowe. Yes, I know who you are. Apple Bloom and her friends told me everything. What you did last night was very brave. Risking your own life to save those children while fighting a chimera by yourself.” She bowed her head. “Thank you for protecting my ponies.”
I raised a brow towards her. “And you are?”
She laughed. “Oh, where are my manners? I am Princess Celestia, ruler of Equestria.”
“And where exactly are we, Princess Celestia?”
“We're in the castle infirmary at Canterlot,” she said. “You've been out for hours since your transportation to Canterlot, and I've been waiting to speak with you once you've regained consciousness. I was told by the girls that you were brought here under 'usual' circumstances and I want to know more about your story.”
I crossed my arms. “That's right. And if I tell you everything, can you help send me back home? To my world?”
Celestia shrugged. “That depends. But first, let's make you feel a little more welcome. You must be feeling hungry right now. Would you like something to eat?”
At that moment, I felt my stomach beginning to growl. “I guess it wouldn't hurt to grab a bite.” Princess Celestia nodded, and motioned for her guards. The guards moved the desk towards the center of the infirmary, along with two chairs. Celestia sat down on one of the chairs and motioned for me to sit. One of the guards then laid out two bowls of oatmeal and a tea set on the table. With their tasks completed, the guards bowed their heads and left the room, giving us privacy.
Celestia poured herself a cup of tea while I stared at my bowl of porridge. It looks normal and smells alright, but is it safe to eat? I took a spoonful of the oatmeal, tasting oats and sugary sweetness to it. Tastes like normal oatmeal, which is fine by me. As I ate, a teacup suddenly hovered right in front of me, as Celestia poured a cup of tea.
“Cream and sugar?” she asked, levitating a small pitcher of cream and two sugar cubes.
I blinked. “How are you doing that?”
“Do you not have magic from where you’ve come from?” she giggled.
“In my world, magic is mostly parlor tricks, or non-existent,” I replied.
“All unicorns have the ability to use magic and cast spells,” Celestia explained. “I am an alicorn, a species that shares the wings of a pegasus and the horn of a unicorn, but I can still cast spells like a unicorn. Right now, I'm using my magic to help serve you a cup of tea. Now, cream and sugar?”
I wasn't a big fan of tea, but I decided to accept her offer. If the ruler of a kingdom offers you tea, you should probably accept it. “Uh, sure, I guess.”
She poured a bit of cream and added the sugar cubes to my tea, giving it a bit of a stir. Once I finished my oatmeal, I took careful sips of the hot tea, being careful not to burn my lips and tongue, blowing on the hot liquid to cool it down quickly. The tea was a little bitter, with a little bit of sweetness from the cream and sugar, but other than that, this was some damn fine tea. After minutes of eating and drinking, Celestia went straight to the questioning.
“Well, that was a nice breakfast, if I'd say so myself,” she said, wiping her mouth with a handkerchief. “Did you find everything satisfying?”
I nodded. “When I first arrived here, I'd half expected you ponies to eat stuff like grass or hay, but I guess it's not like that around here. As for the meal, it was alright. In fact, this is much nicer than the grub they serve at the canteen.”
“I'm glad to hear that,” Celestia smiled. “I wasn't sure what it is that you creatures eat, so I had the chef prepare you some oatmeal. Speaking of which, what is it that humans like yourself eat?”
A simple, yet difficult question to answer in front of a princess who rules a land full of sentient ponies. Knowing that ponies were primarily herbivores, my response could end up painting me as some flesh-eating monster to them. I had to approach this carefully with her. “Well...biologically, I would say that I'm primarily a herbivore. But as a species, we do tend to eat meat...which makes me and a majority of mankind omnivores.” I rushed to finish my sentence, worried that I might accidentally give Celestia a heart attack. “BUT that doesn't mean I have to eat meat. I just need a source of protein, that's all. I can substitute meat for soy and legumes, and I can live off on fruits, vegetables, and grain. So, if you can get me that sort of food, I'll be fine. However, if you're cool with me eating seafood, that would benefit me nutritionally.”
Celestia nodded. “I see. There are some creatures in this world that do eat meat as part of their diet, like the griffons from the east. Perhaps for your future meals, I could talk to the chef about throwing in some sausage or fish to your meal.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment there, I thought telling the princess that I was also a meat-eater would get me tossed in the dungeon. Or worst, executed on the spot. “I think that'd be a great idea. Again, I hope that this doesn't bother or offend you.”
“Not at all,” Celestia replied. “Whenever the emissaries from Griffonstone visit Canterlot, I make sure that they're served meat dishes. As ruler of Equestria, I have to make our guests feel welcomed at the castle.”
I cleared my throat. “Well, speaking of 'feeling welcomed', while I do appreciate the hospitality, I thought we had some questions to answer.”
“You're right, of course,” she nodded, setting aside her tea. “While I should be saving most of the questions for Twilight, I do like to ask you a few questions. To start off, where are you from originally?”
“Didn't the girls help answer some of your questions on me?” I asked.
“They did, but you know how children can over-exaggerate stories sometimes,” she said. “I just like to hear it in your own words.”
“Fair enough,” I nodded. “Then allow me to start from the beginning. I'm from the United States of America, a country from planet Earth. I understand that this planet here is also called Earth, but perhaps your Earth is different than mine.”
“I've never heard of this 'United States of America', but it does sound like an interesting place,” she admitted. “Tell me, why is it called the 'United States of America'?”
“Because there’s fifty states in America, and all of them united as one nation. I'm from the state of Pennsylvania, in case you're wondering.”
“Amazing,” she whispered. “Fifty states united into a single nation? Your people must have a strong sense of unity.”
I chuckled, taking another sip of my tea. “You have no idea. Democracy, freedom, the Second Amendment, apple pie, etcetera. With so many rights and freedoms in America, you can believe that we Americans will stand united to defend our very way of life.”
“Which brings me to my next question,” Celestia continued. “If this America is what you say it is, then what is it that brought you here – to Equestria?”
“It's a mystery,” I said. “I'm not so sure what happened. I was in a battle when I got wounded trying to cover my squad. I thought I was done for, then I saw this glowing pocket watch from out of nowhere. I touched it, and the next thing I know, I wound up here.”
“A battle? You're a soldier?”
“Well, yeah, in case the uniform didn't give it away,” I muttered. “I'm a private in the United States Army. Been in the army for about five years now.”
“So, back where you're from, you're fighting a war?”
“That's right,” I nodded. “America is currently at war with another country called Russia. I'm not going to bore you with the details, but long story short, the reason we're at war with them is because Russia's planning to take over the entire world and they're threatening our democracy as well. We Americans who value freedom more than anything else, don't stand idly by that, so we fought them back with the help of other allies that support democracy.”
Celestia frowned. “So, assuming that humans are the dominant species in your world, you're fight against other humans? Killing your own kind?”
“Hey, don't chastise me with any of your political bullshit. I'm just a grunt doing my job.” I crossed my arms. “And besides, I have every good reason to wanna fight the Russians.”
“I'm not judging you,” she replied calmly. “I'm just surprised that you would go to war with your own species, even if you have a legitimate reason.”
“Humans have been fighting since the age of dinosaurs. No matter how hard we try to co-exist, there always seems to be a reason for us to fight one another. We had wars over land, resources, independence, slavery...you name it. We also had two world wars, and even after all the death and carnage, life went on as usual.”
Celestia shook her head. “That's sad.”
“Don't worry about it. It's just how it is,” I said. “Anyways, I assume you wanted to know more about what brought me here.”
“Ah, yes,” she said, levitating the pocket watch onto the table. “How a single pocket watch somehow brought you to our world. Before we get to that, I just want to confirm something, where did you get this watch?”
“What do you mean?”
“This watch...it was an old family heirloom given by one of my aunts a long time ago,” she explained, gently brushing a hoof over the engravings. “It went missing about ten years ago, yet you have it in your possession? How very strange.”
“I had a feeling that this watch might have something to do with this world, but are you implying that I somehow stole it?”
“No, not at all,” she shook her head. “I'm just surprised to see it again. More surprised when the girls told me that you were brought here because of this watch.”
“Do you know why it brought me here? And how?”
“My guess is that there was some form of teleportation spell casted on this watch,” Celestia hypothesized. “When we examined your belongings and found this watch, I detected some small hint of magic on it. Most of the magical residue has faded away, but once I'm able to find out what spell this was and who casted it, perhaps we might be able to find a way home for you.”
“How long will it take?”
“A week, maybe two.”
I sighed. “If that's what it takes, I guess I can wait.”
“Then I guess we have no reason to keep you in the infirmary any longer.” She stood up from her chair. “How about we relocate you to somewhere more comfortable than a hospital bed?”
I shrugged. “Couldn't hurt.”
With that, we were escorted out of the infirmary and moved further down the castle halls. I hadn't really got a chance to look around the castle, but then again, I wasn't interested in gawking at any paintings. After a climb up a flight of stairs, we stopped at a room with a large door. Celestia opened the door and I was greeted by the sight of a fresh and tidy room.
“This is one of the castle's guest rooms,” she said. “You'll be staying here for now, until we've decided what to do with you next.”
I took a whiff of the room. “The room's not bad, but am I under house arrest or something?”
“Not exactly,” she replied. “You'll only be kept here for a short period. It's for your own safety, that's all.” We entered the room, Celestia giving me a short tour. “We weren't able to find a bed that would fit your size, so we improvised by putting together four beds. Hopefully it should be comfortable enough. There are also some snacks and water on the table, and there's a bathroom in the next room with some toiletries for your convenience. Any questions?”
“Yeah, one I've been meaning to ask since I woke up: where are my weapons?” I asked.
“They're currently being examined by the Canterlot science team for research. A good thing too. I know you seem like the type who would keep his weapons secure, but for everypony's safety, I think it's best that we hold on to them for now. Don't worry, though, you'll get everything back soon enough.”
“I'd prefer if you'd at least let me keep my pistol, but alright,” I muttered. “Your eggheads better not break anything.”
“I can assure you, your belongings will be handled with utmost care,” she smiled. “In the meantime, try and relax. If you need anything just ask one of my guards.”
With that, Princess Celestia left me alone in the guest room. Not knowing what to do first, I decided to take a shower. Considering all I've been through yesterday, I think I've earned it. After a quick, but soothing hot shower, I flopped down onto the bed that was put together for me. It may be four beds combined, but it was comfortable enough. Even though I had just woken up and had breakfast, I had fallen asleep almost instantly the minute I settled in. For now, I'm not even going to worry about what's going to happen to me while I'm here. Talking ponies or not, Sarge ain't going to reprimand me for sleeping on the job.
******
[1800 Romeo Time.]
[Eleven hours later. Somewhere in Toronto...]
After a day of tense fighting, Toronto was finally liberated by the efforts of the American and Canadian armies. With Pearson Airport under allied control, the Russians were cut off from any supplies and reinforcements, and were forced to retreat further northwest.
Now taking the time to rest before the next battle, Sarge, Haggard, and Sweetwater gathered at a pub in Toronto to celebrate their victory with some of the troopers. Among them were the men of Task Force Kodiak, who had promised those beers they owed them. Sergeant Tobias stood up from his seat and raised his glass to the men of Bad Company.
“Alright guys,” he began. “Let's raise a glass to Sergeant Redford, and Privates Sweetwater and Haggard of the 222nd: the men who make the impossible, possible. To you!”
“Cheers!”
“Hear! Hear!”
All the soldiers raised their glasses in the air, before taking a good, long swig. Setting their glasses down, Tobias continued his speech.
“Hell, if it weren't for you guys, my whole crew would've been dead yesterday. You guys deserve a medal.” He then turned to the waiter on duty. “Or at the very least, more beers. Waiter! Bring a couple of more pitchers over here! And some burgers as well!”
“Aw shucks, you didn't have to do that, sir,” Sweetwater said bashfully.
Tobias once again raised his glass. “To your health!”
Another round of raised glass and swigs followed. Tobias set down his glass again and all of a sudden, the cheerful atmosphere in the pub turned solemn.
“Sadly though, these fine gentlemen did not save us without losing one of their own: Private Preston Marlowe. He gave his life so that we may fight another day. May his courage and valor be a shining example to us all.” He raised his glass once more, but instead of making a cheerful declaration, it was one out of respect. “To Marlowe.”
Everyone raised their glasses in solemn respect. “To Marlowe.”
And with that, the celebration kicked off. More rounds of beer and food were delivered to tables as music filled the pub. Soldiers all around were chatting with each other, boasting about today's victory and on how many Russians they've killed. Some Toronto locals even stopped by to thank the soldiers for liberating their city, as well as to enjoy a nice meal at the pub. Bad Company ate in silence, occasionally talking about things like NASCAR and Super Bowl Sundays, though Haggard was a bit quieter than usual.
“Haggard, snake got your tongue?” Sarge asked suddenly. “You're awfully quiet today.”
Haggard shook his head. “It's nothing, Sarge. It's just that...I can't stop thinking of that one Russkie.”
“Which one?”
“The one in Hornby, the one that was giving us trouble earlier.” Haggard took another sip of beer. “He was pretty young, probably has a beautiful lady friend back home, maybe even kids of his own...even if we've taken him prisoner, he'd have a chance to later return home to his loved ones, but instead he chose death. I know it was either him or me, but still...”
Sweetwater shook his head in disbelief. “First time I've ever seen you get a pang of conscience.”
“Are you getting soft on us again, Hags? You know this ain't the place for soft men.”
“I'm not growing soft, Sarge,” Haggard replied. “I just can't help but think about why he didn't choose to surrender. Do guys like him not value their own life?”
“Well, he's a soldier just like you, me, and Sarge. The difference is that he was serving another country with different ideals.” Sweetwater explained. “You know how we're trained to never submit to the enemy if we're taken prisoner? Same thing applies with the Russians. Given their history, you ought to know by now that most of them would choose death over surrender.”
“I get that, but still, I can't help but feel a little bad for that guy.”
“In any case, there's no use thinking about it,” said Sarge. “What's done is done. As you said before, it was either him or you.”
“You're right, Sarge,” Haggard nodded slowly. “It ain't nothing I should worry about. After all, I'm the one who's still standing.”
“And you better remain standing. I don't need you or Sweets to die before my retirement.” Sarge reached for another hamburger, placing it on Haggard's plate. “Now do yourself a favor and eat up. We've got plenty of battles to face in the morning, and this is probably the only good meal we'll have for a long while.”
No longer feeling guilty about what happened at Hornby, Haggard was back to his usual self, talking about things like seeing the next Dallas Cowboys game and getting premium seats for himself. As they ate and drank, a familiar individual approached their table.
“Sorry to interrupt, but do you have room for another at this table?”
Realizing who it was, the squad stood up at attention, dusting off any crumbs from their uniforms before saluting. “General Braidwood, sir!”
“At ease, gentlemen,” he waved. “I just happened to be in the neighborhood and was feeling a little parched, so I decided to stop by at the nearest pub to wet my whistle. Don't suppose you mind if I sit here and have a beer or two?”
Sarge shook his head. “No, sir...we don't mind at all.” He quickly turned to Sweetwater. “Sweets, don't just stand there like a buffoon! Pull up a seat for the General!”
Sweetwater immediately pulled up an empty chair and placed it in between his and Sarge's. The General sat down and immediately ordered himself a drink. Bad Company continued to eat and drink in silence, not sure on what to say. It was then Sarge broke the silence.
“General Braidwood... is there something you want to talk to us about?” asked Sarge. “I have a feeling you aren't just here to enjoy a beer.”
“You aren't wrong about that,” Braidwood replied. “I'm actually here to give you some news; news that may peak your interest. Want to hear it?”
“I'll bite,” Haggard said, setting down his glass. “What have you got for us, sir?”
“First and foremost, I'm officially here to inform you that today, the 222nd Army Battalion has been disbanded, and that the three of you have been honorably discharged from the military.”
The squad stared at Braidwood in disbelief. Were they hearing this right? Did a four-star army general just tell them that they can go home? Sweetwater raised his hand. “Um sir, I didn't really get what you just said. Did you just say that we've been disbanded and discharged from the military? That we can go home?”
Braidwood gave a small smile. “I did say that, didn't I?”
“But why, sir?”
“Word's out about what you guys did back in Hamilton yesterday,” he explained. “Congress wants you guys out of the conflict and to return home, have a parade around Washington DC, boost morale back home and encourage support for the war effort, that sort of thing. Now that we're winning the war, I think it was high time that the 222nd finally retired.”
Hearing the news that they could go home earlier, the squad felt an overwhelming sense of relief. Finally, they can retire and do all the things they've wanted to do! However, they stopped short, realizing that there was a catch to all of this somehow. Haggard was the first to point it out.
“While this all sounds mighty fine, I feel like there's a 'but' to all of this,” said Haggard. “After all, this doesn't feel like the only news you have for us.”
“You're a sharp one, private,” Braidwood grinned. “While it's official that you're no longer part of the military, I still think it'd be a waste to send you all back home early, when you can still do more for us. And I have a fairly good reason to want you gentlemen to stick around.”
“And what might that reason be, sir?”
General Braidwood straightened up, looking all official, before delivering the news. “We have every reason to believe that Preston Marlowe is still alive.”
The whole squad went wide eyed with mouths agape. Sarge looked right back at Braidwood, with an “are you serious” kind of look. “Our guy is still alive?”
“Sir, the last time I checked, Marlowe's dead as of yesterday,” Haggard added. “No way anyone could've survived all those explosions.”
“That's what you all think, but I believe that he's still alive and is somewhere behind enemy lines as of now. Early this morning, I sent a detachment of Marines to identify and recover any fallen soldiers from yesterday's battle in Hamilton. They checked the remains of the APC which you've mentioned that Marlowe took cover in before his supposed demise. They found no trace of his body.”
“Well, he could've been vaporized,” Sweetwater suggested. “All those explosions can easily erase a man off the face of the earth.”
“That would be true, but even after the bombardment, the APC was still somewhat intact,” Braidwood continued. “Even if he were vaporized, there would've still been some small trace of what was left of him. Which leaves me to believe he survived out of two ways: either he made his escape before the bombardment, or he survived the bombardment and immediately fled the scene.”
“No way,” Sarge interrupted. “If you're saying that Marlowe deserted, then you're wrong. Despite what you've read in his record and the reasons he was transferred to B-Company, I've known Marlowe long enough to know that he would never be a deserter.”
“I didn't say he deserted,” Braidwood said, raising his hands in a calming gesture. “I understand that this news is a lot to take in, but just in case you don't believe me, I have proof that shows that Marlowe may have survived yesterday's battle. Take a look at this.”
He produced his PDA and handed it to Sarge. On the PDA was a video clip waiting to be played. Sweetwater and Haggard gathered around as Sarge hit the 'PLAY' button and watched the clip unfold.
“A civilian who happened to be in the area took this film at a safe distance. Watch closely at the opening of the APC.”
The squad watched the footage in silence. Whoever was filming the battle was pretty amateur, but they still did a good job on catching all the fighting on camera. Fast forwarding to the end, the squad came upon the moment where Preston was limping towards the abandoned APC.
“There he is.”
“Yeah, this is the moment where we last saw Marlowe...”
Back in the video, Preston ducked underneath the small opening and took cover inside. Up in the sky, the sound of fighter jets grew more audible as they closed in onto the road. In the last few seconds of the video, the camera caught some kind of activity going on in the APC before a blinding explosion obstructed the view. The squad could hear the cameraman cursing and dropping the camera as the whole film came to an abrupt end.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Sweetwater said suddenly. “Go back a bit...right before the explosion. Did you see that?”
Sarge rewinds the footage back to the moment before the explosion. Slowing down the speed of the video, they were able to see a flash of purple light coming from the opening. It was seen for only half a second before the first bomb went off.
“I'm guessing you gentlemen saw that light back there?” Braidwood asked. “Guess I wasn't seeing things after all.”
“It could've been a gunshot,” Sarge rationalized, though there was a hint of doubt in his voice. “Marlowe must've realized there was no way he was getting out alive, so he took the easy way out.”
“Nah, no way,” Haggard shook his head. “You said it yourself that Marlowe was no deserter. If that's the case, then there's no chance in hell he'd off himself so easily.”
“But even so, there's no way he would've survived the bombs. Let alone outrun the bombers,” Sweetwater added.
The men were stumped, unsure of how to take in this news. For all they knew, this was a trick to try and get them to stay in the conflict a little while longer, but at the same time, there was that nagging possibility that their comrade-in-arm was still alive. Sarge turned to Braidwood, and asked, “If Marlowe is alive, why are you telling us this now when you've already told us that we've been disbanded?”
Braidwood took back his PDA and pulled up a map of Canada, showing three red dots marking locations that were of high importance. One dot was located further northwest in Ontario, somewhere outside Sioux Lookout. Another dot was marked somewhere in central Manitoba, and the last one was placed somewhere near lower Nunavut.
Handing back the PDA, Braidwood explained the situation. “Those are the locations of major prisoner or war camps the Russians have set up since the early occupation of Canada. These camps hold both Canadian and US military personnel, as well as some Canadian resistance fighters and a few important figures. As you may have heard, the Russians are losing the war again. Sooner or later, they'll come to realize that they're not going to win this war, and they'll begin the process of starting peace talks with us. But as you all know, the Russians like to play dirty.
“Intelligence operatives have gathered that they're going to transport all POWs to Alaska, where they'll be shipped back to Russia and be held at labor camps there. The Russians want to use them as leverage in the eventual peace talks, play things their way. Problem is, Uncle Sam is not looking to play their dirty game. If we can liberate those camps, they'll have squat for leverage at the peace talks.”
“And let me guess, Marlowe might be held at one of those camps?” Sarge asked.
“Some of our troops were scattered during the battle of Hamilton yesterday and were taken prisoner. They're probably being transferred to one of the camps as we speak, which may or may not include your guy.” Braidwood finished off his beer in a quick gulp, setting down the empty glass. “Listen, you may not be part of the military anymore, but I'd like you to help me with this one last task. I'd ask another unit, hell, maybe send a few Delta operators to take this assignment, but I don't think there are any better soldiers than you three that can handle this operation. If you do this for me, I'll put in a good word for you guys and have the government offer you and your families enough money and benefits to last a generation. It's your call.”
Haggard looked over to Sarge. “Sarge, if you wanna head on home and go on that fishing trip of yours, go right ahead. You've been wanting to retire for a long while, so now's a good time as any. Sweets and I can go look for Marlowe by ourselves. We'll take it from here.”
Sarge shook his head. “And make me look bad by letting you boys run amok? Absolutely not. Someone has to keep you bastards in line, and I guess it'll have to be me.”
Braidwood smiled. “Then I guess it's settled. I'll inform Washington that you boys will be staying in the fight for a little while longer. Your first target to liberate will be the camp outside Sioux Lookout. You'll be departing with the 1st Armored Cavalry tomorrow morning. Good luck, and godspeed, gentlemen.” Before he left, he pulled out some cash from his pocket, setting it down on their table. “Oh, drinks and steaks are on me tonight.”
Once Braidwood was out of sight, Sweetwater asked, “What...what just happened?”
Sarge sighed, taking another sip of his beer. “My retirement got delayed. Again.”
Haggard looked at Sarge, and asked, “You think Braidwood was right, though? About Marlowe being alive?”
“How the fuck should I know? For all we know, he probably lied about Marlowe and is getting us involved in a wild goose chase,” Sarge set down his glass and pulled out a cigar, lighting it up and taking a puff out of it. “Played us all like damn fiddles.”
As they sat there, slowly regretting their decision, Tobias stepped forward to their table, taking Braidwood's seat. “I overheard your conversation with the General earlier. Sounds like your guy is still alive.”
“It's just a possibility,” Sweetwater replied. “For all we know, Marlowe's already dead, and Braidwood's probably sending us to an early grave.”
“Why do you think he'd do that?” Tobias asked.
“Probably to get rid of us,” Sarge answered. “Men like us aren't meant to live out the rest of our lives in peace.”
Tobias shrugged. “In any case, we've got orders to assist you in liberating the camps. If your guy is still alive and he's being held at one of those camps, my men and I will do everything to help you get him and the rest of our boys freed.” He placed a hand on Redford's shoulder, and said, “You don't have to do this alone. Just give us a holler, and we'll be there.”
Redford gave a small nod. “Many thanks. You're a good man.”
“I'm going to join back with the rest of my crew. In the meantime, you guys enjoy the rest of the night and get some sleep. We've got more battles ahead of us, as well as people to save.”
With Tobias gone, Bad Company slowly finished their food and drink, before looking at each other with renewed confidence. “So, we're going to do this or what?”
Haggard grinned. “Count us in, Sarge. Let's go find Marlowe and bring him home.”
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Cool facts and definitely worth the wait also take your time and sometimes inspiration can come from the most unlikely of things. Can’t wait for the next chapters and what you have in store. I’ll wait.