A single strain of thought was running through Private First Class Fredrick Wagner’s head. “How the hell did I end up here?”
The war was going bad for the rebellious Interstellar Culture Confederation, and the United Galactic Trade Organization had made recent gains in the Ross 248 system. Specifically, UGTO forces had recently liberated the planet of Enous, the last planet to hold out against the UGTO invasion. An immediate planet-wide declaration of martial law was announced minutes after the planet was secured, to which the local population of several billion went into an uproar over the UGTO’s “oppression” and took to the streets immediately. Wagner and his platoon were assigned riot duty in one of Enous’ domed cities, guarding a city-street that lead towards the UGTO command headquarters, formally the local university campus. And the natives were restless.
The soldiers stood from one side of the avenue to the other; the only thing separating the 16 men from the gathering mass was a simple wooden-post barricade, the Neocrete buildings on either side, and restraint on the crowd’s part. The soldiers were clad in standard battle suits, their white armor plastered with intricately designed ruby red brush strokes covering most of the body, with the exposed joints wrapped up in a layer of Kevlar-type material. Their heads were protected by a sleek helmet system, that swooped down and out to add more protection to the Kevlar-covered neck area, and a tinted visor that covered the whole facial region and provided a 180° Heads-Up Display. Most of them were armed with standard R-19 Particle Rifles, though three of the men carrier Light Particle Repeaters for additional firepower and RoF.
It was this glamorous, professional look that inspired Fredrick to join the Army in the first place. He came from a military background, and both his parents encouraged his joining into the armed forces. All three of his brothers had went Navy years earlier, though last he heard two of them were serving on scout ships scanning along the frontier, and Erwin was in command of a Frigate chasing around enemy supply convoys. Fredrick was after the fiery glory of personal combat, not the cold emptiness of spaceships and stars, and signed up at the local army recruiting station in Köln at 21. After months of intense, grueling physical and mental training, Fredrick was attached to the 25th Infantry Division, and was psyched for some real combat action. Unfortunately, by the time his military transport had reached the Ross 248 system, fighting on Enous was winding down, and Fredrick’s Echo Company, along with the rest of the 25th received their orders to “help in the prevention and/or suppression of any civilian uprisings by enemy insurgents”.
Currently, the only thing that was “uprising” was the volume of the protests and obscenities being thrown across the roadblock at the soldiers. One young woman standing in front of Fredrick took the time to lob a wad of spit at the young Germanic man, the saliva falling short and landing in a glob on the road in front of him, and returned to calling him an “imperialist pig-dog”. Had she been able to see through the visor, the anxious look on Fredrick would have been clearly visible.
“Umm, LT, this crowd seems to be getting a bit rowdy,” said Fredrick over the communications link. “Just sit tight Wagner,” was all Lieutenant Wilson would reply. There was not a very reassuring tone in his voice.
Unexpectedly his auditory sensors picked up something big coming up behind them. Turning to look behind out of the corner of his eye, Fredrick’s heart was suddenly lifted: It was the other two platoons of Echo Company, and they had a PainBeam in tow. The PainBeam was a large directional dish strapped to a millimeter-wave generator, the waves being 100 times more powerful then microwaves. The dish then aims these beams at the more unruly protestors, which gives a sensation of their flesh being boiled off their skin, though there are no lasting effects. The PainBeam set was being transported on a flatbed truck, which slowly backed up towards the wooden barricade, the rest of Echo forming up behind it.
The crowd that could see what was going on slowly began falling back, as word passed down the mob. Those who were too young or ignorant stood their ground, while those with first-hand experience pushed their way frantically through the crowd. Suddenly the PainBeam was fired, the invisible beams aimed precisely at one 20-something anarchist, who was immediately wriggling in pain on the hard street. The PainBeam then begin a steady steam of point, aim, and fire, and moving onto the next target as the last unlucky fellow would be squirming along the ground like an earthworm in pain. The mass riot instantly became a mass rout, as the thousands of protestors and spectators alike began a headlong charge in any direction from the UGTO forces.
It was then, on the third floor of a building down where the road bents onto another city street that Fredrick’s HUD picked up the puff of smoke, as it streaked towards his position. That million-dollar computer chip in his helmet predicted it flight path, its current airspeed, even gave a prediction on what type of rocket it was and what its yield was. However, the only thing going through Fredrick’s head was that it was heading for the PainBeam, and he was standing right next to it.
“Holy sh-”
Fredrick couldn’t tell how bright or loud the explosion was, as all his suit’s sensory systems went into instant shutdown to protect the wearer, but he could definitely feel the shockwave as he was thrown 20 feet into the air and smashed against the side of a building. Even Fredrick’s armor and soft under padding could not protect his brain from rattling around inside his skull, and Fredrick went unconscious before he hit the ground…