Chapter 4: Chapter Three

     Vincent moved as fast as he could with his crutches. He had been summoned to the medical bay before his mission launched. He couldn't help but wonder why.

      A double door on the right side of the hallway with a giant red plus sign attracted Vincent's eye. The doctors had decided that the medical bay entrance had to be as unsubtle as possible so "wounded personal wouldn't accidentally pass the door."
     

     If they were at a frontline base having the door stand out would've made sense, but they were comfortably away from the war. The worst injury one could sustain in the headquarters was a paper cut. A simple sign would've sufficed in Vincent's opinion.
Vincent rapped on the door. The doors opened, and a man in a white coat walked out. "Ah, Colonel Vincent. Please, come in."

     The display made Vincent feel like he was walking in a test chamber. He followed the doctor, who directed him to sit in one of the many beds occupying the room.

     The room was white with ten beds. Cabinets and various other containers covered the entire back wall. Vincent was the only one in the room, excluding the doctor rooting through a container.

     "Ah, found it." The doctor walked back to Vincent. In his hands were an array of metal rods. Vincent recognized the gray rods, for he had seen them in use. They were new medical tools named Machinecasts. Machinecasts were wrapped around a limp with a broken bone. They would quickly go taut and force the bone back together.

     The Machinecast then scanned for the location of the broken bone. Metal poles would enter the body and clamp around the fracture, holding it together until it healed.
     

     They were effective but scarce. Machinecasts were used on soldiers on the front; high-ranking officers typically weren't given them because they could do their job even with a broken bone. High Command ordered one be given to Vincent so he could command the mission easier.

     Understanding what the doctor intended to do, Vincent rolled up his pant leg. A cast was beneath his pants, covering a wound he had sustained in combat. The doctor carefully applied the Machinecast. They went taut, and the poles forced Vincent's broken bone into place. The process was agonizing, but Vincent gritted his teeth and didn't make a sound.

 

     The poles clicked into place. The doctor took a syringe and injected anesthesia into his calf. A moment later, Vincent's pain ceased.
"There. Now, get going." The doctor walked off.

     "Right," Vincent stood, his leg felt perfectly fine, "Thanks, doc." Vincent strode out, heading for hanger four.
   

     It was five AM and raining heavily, not ideal weather for flying. But for some reason, high command had decided it was the perfect time for the mission to launch. All preparations were completed, and the three hundred soldiers were ready to set out.

     Though it was raining, you couldn't hear it inside the headquarters' concrete walls. Yelling, machinery, and people running about came from the end of the hall. Vincent neared the giant metal doorway blocking the entrance to hangar four.

     Vincent ran his rank badge through a scanner by the doorway, and the doors parted, unveiling a grand sight. A gray sixty-by-sixty meter space with a fifty-meter tall roof was filled with machinery and soldiers.

     Yelling filled the hangar as soldiers and engineers alike were bossed around by their commanders. Men in engineer suits ran to and fro. They held small boxes and weapons as they scurried back and forth between planes and other groups of engineers. Soldiers marched toward the jets with model discipline.

     In the middle of the hangar was a line of nine black jetplanes. Their engines were screaming as they prepared for take-off. Fifty 18-Lion tanks were being loaded in five of the jets. Three other jets held fifty soldiers apiece, while the final plane was being loaded with crates of ammunition and a vehicle Vincent didn't recognize.

     "VINCENT!" A man yelled with all his might over the thunderous din. Vincent turned to see General Robert approaching him. Robert had two rolled-up pieces of paper tucked underneath his right arm and an exhausted expression.

     "Sir!" Vincent snapped to attention.

     Robert walked up next to him, "I'm sure you are wondering how we'll get your men past GACU anti-aircraft positions. The answer is that we will launch a barrage of missiles and planes with autopilot to cover your planes. They should intercept most of the GACU anti-aircraft rockets. There's no guarantee this will work, so be prepared to handle the mission with fewer soldiers than we sent with you. That's also why we are doing this in the rain. We hope it'll make the GACU anti-air rockets less accurate."

     The missiles and planes would fly lower than the transport jets. The autopilot would make the aircraft fly straight without a crew, preventing casualties. Hopefully, they'd shield the jets transporting Vincent's company.

     Next, Robert grabbed and unrolled the larger of the two papers under his arm. It was a map of the territory once ruled by the Federation of Rosia. Three locations were marked by an X. A line of dots with dates adjacent was also scrawled on the map.
Pointing a pale finger at each X, Robert began talking, "The Xs mark the three production plants you'll target!" Two Xs were surrounded by forest, while the third was engulfed by plains. "You'll need to destroy the plants and crush their overseers! There should be ammunition stockpiles in each plant. Detonate those, and the whole plant should go up in flames!"

      "Well, what's the line indicate, sir!?" Vincent hoped he didn't end up with a sore throat because of his yelling.

     "That's the presumed route Silver Phoenix will take while touring the front! The dates show where he should be and when! Use this map to accurately guess where he'll be and set up an ambush to crush him!" Robert rolled up the map and handed it to Vincent, who accepted it with a nod. "The planes dropping you off double as bombers! Once they ditch you, they'll try and bomb the plants. They will probably fail, but we will try anyway. We'll radio you if they succeed. Also, I'm sending a gift to you. The people crewing the gift will explain how it works when you land." 

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     "Ah, I see, sir! What's the second paper?!" Vincent gestured at the other paper still under Robert's arm.

     "Oh... Something more... Somber." Robert's voice dropped, making it hard for Vincent to hear him properly, "I decided to deliver it myself since I'd see you." Robert gave Vincent the paper, "I'm sorry." He walked off, "Good luck, Vincent! The fate of the Federation lies on your shoulders!"

     Puzzled, Vincent pocketed the papers and walked to the back of the lead jet, where its lowered ramp was. A contingent of fifty men wearing black body armor and helmets with either machine guns or grenade launchers at their feet shot up and saluted Vincent when he entered the jet. He gave off a loose salute in response and took a seat next to the entrance to the cockpit. His pale gray officer's uniform made him stand out amongst them.
     

      The jet's ramp began to shut with a whir. The mission was limited to nine planes because of the lack of jets. Because of the efficiency of GACU anti-aircraft campaigns, most aircraft were scrapped to build tanks, and many pilots underwent training to become soldiers or engineers.

     Though most jets were scrapped, many older cargo planes were kept by the Federation so supplies could be moved quickly. So getting the aircraft was easy. However, they couldn't afford to use too many as that'd disrupt military supply lines. The many aircraft acting as a shield were old, decommissioned civilian airliners.

     Vincent hadn't flown before, so he was nervous. But since the fate of the Federation was at stake, he kept his mouth shut.

     "Hey, Colonel, betcha I destroy at least one factory all by myself!" the young James Mal puffed out his chest with pride as he promised great deeds. James tended to say he'd do amazing things like destroy a thousand GACUs in one battle, but he never succeeded in his goals. Even though he liked to brag, he was a great soldier who pulled through for his squadmates when needed.

     "Yeah, right." a snarky voice responded to James. The voice belonged to sergeant Victor Irson, a man from a neighboring nation that had been overrun by the GACUs. He came to the Federation to continue the fight. He was a realist who preferred setting his goals based on statistics and data, and it came to fighting, none were more courageous than him.

     "Alright, children. Settle down. Petty rivalries have no place on the field of combat," Vincent cut into their conversation. His tone was gentle but commanding.

     The tank crews were inside the jets carrying the tanks to save space. Michael Wren and Elias Alexander were sitting inside the tank that'd be Vincent's mobile headquarters.

     The door to the cockpit slid open, and a man wearing a gray bodysuit leaned out, "We are taking off now, so buckle up." he slammed the door shut.

     Following the pilot's orders, each soldier clicked their seatbelts on and checked that their weapons safeties were on. Though they were members of an armored company, they had still undergone infantry training, so if a tank crew somehow ended up without a tank, they wouldn't be defenseless.

     Vincent grabbed the paper given to him by Robert. It was short, so a quick glance over was all he needed. The note read: "Your brother, James Vincent, has bravely given his life in combat for the Federation. We offer our condolences during this difficult time."

     "Whatcha reading, Colonel?" Victor asked.

     "Uh, nothing..." Vincent kept was he was thinking inside.

     "PLANE'S TAKING-OFF." the pilot from earlier yelled from within the cockpit.
Vincent was suddenly forced into his seat by the plane's acceleration. The other eight jets took off behind it. Flying into the rain at unbelievable speeds.

     All across the front, silos launched their missiles at the GACU lines. Planes took off from other airports to cover Vincent's force. The Federation's and the other surviving nations' fate was on the line.
*****
     With a sigh, Robert entered a dark maintenance closet, "I delivered the note for you."

     "Good. Good." A voice replied from the back of the closet, "My brother isn't an idiot. He'll figure it out."

     "Still," Robert crossed his arms, "Losing him is a blow."

     "Indeed. We'll need a new replacement. Sure you still don't want the job?"

     "I am sure. Politics aren't for me." Robert shut the door and walked off.

     "Hmph. The plot is in danger. I knew I should've forced Vincent to stop complaining and take the position" A shadowy figure got up off an empty shelf. "Well, considering who the president is, I can find someone else to replace him with ease."

     The figure began cackling for several minutes, "Ah, the president has only delayed the inevitable. Good luck, Vincent. I'll carry on what you helped start."

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