Now's probably as good a time as any to give you the low-down on our "base." Quotation marks be damned, the base wasn't much. The pre-fab armory stayed where it was, with two truck-sized tents on the flanks. To the left was the ops-room, kitted out with all our comms gadgets and a mini-relay tower next to it. To the right was a skeleton infirmary -- one bed and everything else stored in drawers. Smaller tents were propped up around the three larger structures, though they were still in the middle of being set up.

You might be curious, what defenses do you guys have?

Did I have some ingenious trench network set up, like the wars of old? Did I take the time to dig up a few foxholes and started shifts of guards, slowing our progress but making sure we were safe and secure as we built ourselves up? Was I smart about this?

No, I was not.

All we had were the three vehicles, one with an autocannon, mortars, and drones. Oh, we were on a very slight bump, a fucking hill. Ah, need I mention we were missing a third of my men?

If these buggers were better than a mob of civs flailing their sticks about and smart enough to know what we were capable of on some prophesized bullshit, we were fucked. An army of who-knows-how-many, heading towards us, somehow undetected by our recce team, five-hundred meters out.

Roooyally fucked if they rush us. Think about it, they'd be at the tents in under a minute!

Now, I'm not one to crack under pressure, I just thought it'd be nice to show you the odds. You'd expect grief and even more pressure placed on my frail little shoulders, the Major cracking under the stress of getting his men killed within hours of their arrival.

Grin. Stuck. On face. Mine.

Of course, any modern military gives its boys options. Here's what I was considering;

We had three armored vehicles fueled and ready to go. One had an autocannon on it, one round every second. Load it up with some real bangers and we'd break any charge, mobile steel walls be damned. Each vic could carry fifteen, crew included.

Everything was mostly temporary in this little camp of ours. Tents, barely assembled tents, even more tents. Only permanent thing was the armory, which we could load up on the vics. Sure, we'd only be able to carry a few weeks' worth of ammo and irreplaceable supplies, but we'd manage. Live off the land and all that.

We've got mortars, too! Fuck yes!

The last thing to ponder would be, how would we talk to Ass-puffer?

So, here's a shocker: They can send things through doors.

Yes, that includes all kinds of matter and light. Doors could be used as portals leading back home. We were sent here through a massive garage door, the entire fifty-paces squared passed through one giant collapsible door. All we needed to do was hold out 'til 1300, and tell the Colonel we'd have to move elsewhere for the time being, hoping they'd sort things out on their end.

Pretty nifty transport, eh? Not so much when you can't send people through without frying their heads, but that's for another time. We've got a crowd to please.

The ops room buzzed with exciting action. The section leaders (1SL, 2SL, and 3SL from here on out, at least until I get their names) came running out of the tent, barking orders at the soldiers milling about. Quinn stood across from the entrance, pulling her hair back as she calmly walked towards me, rifle already slung across her chest.

"Sir," she nodded to me, snapping me out of my little rant. "Orders?"

I cleared my throat and stood up straight. "Get third to pack up a week's worth of ammo and all the equipment they can fit onto the vics -- don't grab food and don't sacrifice carrying capacity. I want them crewed and ready to go at a moment's notice." I paused for a breath. My lungs aren't cut out for this. "Get everything else piled up inside of the armory, anything they can capture prioritized. Go."

She nodded and stormed out of the room, I followed after her.

The base was a jumble of people running about with purpose. The few I could recognize by their sections were doing as instructed, Second taking up positions wherever they could, even digging out some cover.

"Second, take a squad and set up the mortars behind the armory. Be ready to fire on my command." I spoke into my walkie.

A reply came in short order. "Aye, sir."

I ordered Third to take up the defense when I leave with the remainder of Second's free-handed men. I dove into one of the makeshift foxholes, looking at what we had to deal with.

Let's get it, boys.