War against Unity part 2
Preliminary report of the Provisional Interdisciplinary Research Department of the Taurus University
Abstract
As the Clans invaded Inner Sphere, almost 90 years ago, it was feared this was an alien invasion and it was a great relief to all involved that it wasn't. With this invasion came the same fears, but realization that these foes are humans is downright horrifying. While Clanners are still human, their elementals and aerospace pilots approximately look like members of Homo Sapiens species, these ''Unitarians'' have abandoned all pretexts of looking like humans.
The technology they utilize is nothing special, almost everything could be replicated easily by our industry. It is the operators of these machines that cause such consternation, making it understandable why those who first seen them thought them to be alien creatures, as even scientist with decades of experience have a hard time accepting the fact that these are, our, shall we say cousins? Operator of each type of unit was genetically modified in order to best fit the role, with very little genetic variety within individual roles. Point has been raised that this might be still an alien invasion, using such foot soldiers as cannon fodder and while we can't fully disprove such notions, it is of little dispute that extent of genetic modifications and cybernetic enhancements is fully within capability of Star League tech, no aliens needed. Not all Star League exiles followed Kerensky.
It seems armor and protomech pilots are grown similarly, with biggest difference probably in the brain itself, as demands of piloting a protomech are different from those of armor, however both phenotypes are devoid of any bodily function not related to piloting through direct neural interface, so basically they are but a brain with support organs. It seems there is possibility for removing them from their rides fairly quickly, but this action probably demands special tools that Commandos were not able to capture.
Battle armor troopers still have all of their extremities, but they are completely fused with their armor. While armor and protomech pilots could probably be removed from their machines alive, there is no way to remove trooper from his armor, without killing him and wrecking the armor.
All three phenotypes are hooked into support system providing them with nutrients, supplements and behavior controlling chemicals along with direct stimulation of andreanal, pituary and pineal glands.
We assume that fighter pilots and dropship bridge crews are similarly ''optimized'' for direct neural control of their machines and tolerating higher G-forces. We will be able to learn more when TDF captures examples of these units, same with mechs.
Most of their machines utilize lightweight ECM units and are capable of broadcasting much greater stream of data than usual military communication systems, indicating wide scale networking, which would partially explain their accuracy and reaction times.
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We were sent to Burton in order to establish forward defense beyond the borders of the rump Concordat. Diplomats smoothed matters somewhat before we deployed, we got multiple lengthy debriefings on proper relations, but it was still tense. Many people there believed this was but a ruse for armed takeover of the world and many of our guys were sore about people of the world supposedly betraying the Concordat in its darkest hour. Weird how these hours seemed to be consistently the darkest throughout entire Concordat existence and yet I happened to notice sunlight on most days. Me, I consider myself a levelheaded thinker and I tried to keep out of it, but captain decided that I, being such a swell guy, am the perfect for the role of intermediary, smoothing the relations between our guys and the militia. It did wonders for my popularity with the colleagues, it's a small miracle I wasn't made a guest of honor at a blanket party.
Anyway, the idea of joint training with the militia didn't go so well, we were close to shooting on multiple occasions, so eventually we got separated, with us given shitty accommodations in some backwater, with plenty of room for training, locals trying to scam us with damage claims notwithstanding. Apart from usual dynamiting of dead cattle, some crafty bastards even got some infantry SRM launchers to shoot up some clunkers they towed near the training range, trying to make it look like we blew up brand new vehicles. They would probably start blowing up deceased relatives if the devil didn't take joke. Well the Unity, but then, there isn't much of a difference, isn't it?
There was a lot of speculation on how many units their dropships carried, we reckoned they surely made some savings with their non-adherence to creature comforts, but they were still subject to basic laws of physics so it wouldn't be too big of a difference and they wouldn't outnumber us by too large margin. Especially once our fighters took their toll with anti-shipping missiles. This seemed to elucidate them on the state of affairs on the world, so while they broadcasted their droning ''peacfully join the unity'' speech they took several hours in orbit before landing considerable distance from Burtondown.
Mixed militia battalion went with us as we advanced towards enemy LZ and we pressed them hard, they soon gave up on attempts to capture our units and switched to ranged skirmishing, delaying us long enough for their dropships to escape, then it all devolved into running fight through wilderness. We knew from scientific report that bastards could go without rest for prolonged periods of time, perhaps even weeks, but their equipment needs maintenance just like ours, so we tried to wear them down by keeping them on the move, while identifying and eliminating whatever technical support remained with them. It was quite grueling fight they were always ready to pounce at any sign of weakness, many times our boys had to run so they wouldn't be overwhelmed, not always successful. Our flyboys found and blasted their support vehicles and we finally had them on the ropes, but then the second wave arrived.
This was larger contingent than the first and had more aerospace fighters so our flyboys couldn't touch them, but we quickly pushed towards their LZ and tried to open way with some Alamos. Well, it turned out they had nukes as well and weren't shy about using them. We fell back towards Burtondown and tried to hold the line on the Chemie river, but the relentless bastards pushed as back in matter of days. We were holding the final hills before Burtondown when Gordon's Armored Cavalry arrived and together we threw the fuckers over the Chemie river. We didn't cross it though, as we really needed rest and machines needed repairs. And by the time we were ready for offensive again, the third wave arrived. So it was on the Chemie river defense line that we first encountered zombies. We thought it was just infantry that was like this, but then our lance blasted a Stinger on our side of Chemie. I saw infantry boys prying the cockpit open and flicked the radio onto the frequency of the infantry company we were with and could hear the report to their captain. My mind went to the Eugenio's empty cockpit. Did they snatch him to turn him into one of these things? Is an empty shell of man he used to be somewhere out there as cannon fodder for Unitarians? The realization that they could do this to you was not something I needed. I promised to myself back on Carthage that I'd shoot myself rather than let them capture me and after encountering zombies some people started carrying hand grenades in addition of sidearm. After that Stinger we all found a way to scrounge a hand grenade, with Hare pilfering a satchel charge somewhere. I was jealous, I really was. We were holding them back but it was doubtful Defense Force could scrounge more reinforcements for us while Unitarians were getting them albeit at increasing intervals, so the atmosphere was rather glum. We learned when Gordons arrived that our diplomats were laughed out of Sian and Canopus, despite the evidence of abominations they brought along. There was even a talk about sending delegation to Federated Suns, but we doubted our government would go that low, bastards would probably demand Pleiades in exchange. I think it was first time I heard Dogass saying something more than just ''Yes Sir'', when he droned during the lunch how he hopes that if Canopians and Crapellans threw us to the wolves, the maybe at least Fedrats will see the reason. Normally such unpatriotic behavior would warrant severe beatings, but no one amongst us had in us to do it anymore, we were just to weary. I think I said something about how we will see zombies dancing flamenco before we would see their assault guards riding to our rescue, while captain told him to stop wasting hope on the hopeless and finish his food. We were cracking.
Bastards got some three or four waves of reinforcements before they managed to breach our defenses on Chemie, pushing us steadily towards Burtondown. They tried several swift maneuvers, but we always kept some reserves and managed to cut off and wipe out several of their vanguards, so they settled for gradually pushing us back and wearing us down. I became aware of the plan that on the final defensive line command would pull parts of both regiments, along with as many civilians they could cram into dropships and try to break out to jumpship at pirate point. Rearguard would fall back to factory where remaining civilians would be gathered and with assigned nukes enact Masada option. I hoped I would be assigned to the rearguard, I didn't want to be the one who leaves people and comrades behind. Though being dead on my feet might have impacted my thinking.
We were on the same hills as when Gordons arrived when history repeated itself. Well, it didn't exactly repeat itself, it more rhymed. I heard it was a magnificent sight, seeing that many dropships in the night sky, but I had my eyes only for the snatchers who tried to push us off the hills, so they could get in the missile range of the LZ, probably to nuke it. We held the line, I don't know how, but we did. I can't really tell you much about the fight memory of it was is a blur for me, I only remember Skulky falling at some point, perhaps he blew himself when they came for him or he died when I and Dogass blew snatchers and the cockpit, we all promised not to let a comrade fall in their hands. I think my mech was in rather poor condition when we got the order for phased disengagement. And that the incoming friendlies won't show on our IFF. Still with eyes on the bastards I nearly jumped out of my skin when Battlemaster came from behind me and Victor on another side, with whole lot of firepower being poured into snatchers, who tried to close in despite the suddenly much worse odds. I think they have problems with sudden changes of situation. I turned and walked my mech to our camp like I was on autopilot with my sleeping bag being my only thought. Bastards could be problem for someone else for a while. My chain of command actually had a decency to let me sleep, but then they probably hit the bag as well.