Project Gaia : The arrival of humanity

Chapter 36 : Storm

"The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him."

- G.K. Chesterton

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New Washington, Northeastern New Pangaea. September 11th, 2038. 0600 hours.

The sun had barely crested the horizon when the wailing alarm tore through the tranquil dawn of New Washington. The colony, nestled amidst Gaia's alien wilderness, was jolted awake as sirens blared from speakers mounted on every street corner, every barrack, and every public building. It was exactly 0600 hours, and the sky was painted with soft hues of orange and gold. The air was cool and crisp, a fleeting moment of peace shattered by the weight of impending war.

"Attention all personnel! Enemy forces detected 100 kilometers from the colony! All combat units, report to your battle stations! This is not a drill! Repeat, this is not a drill!"

Civilians stumbled out of their beds, their faces filled with fear, clutching at loved ones. Soldiers, already accustomed to the sound of alarms, leapt from their bunks and began throwing on their gear. Rows of olive-green uniforms were rapidly donned, boots laced tight, and body armor snapped into place. Rifles, pistols, and combat knives were grabbed with practiced precision. The air buzzed with shouted orders and the clatter of equipment as thousands of boots pounded against steel floors and gravel paths.

Within minutes, the defensive network around New Washington buzzed with organized chaos. The first trench layer, reinforced with steel plating and sandbags, bristled with machine gun nests-M240s and M2 .50 caliber heavy machine guns were mounted on swiveling turrets, their barrels gleaming in the early sunlight. Soldiers crouched low behind cover, helmets strapped on, fingers ready on triggers. Anti-tank missile launchers, including Javelins and TOW systems, were positioned strategically, their operators scanning the horizon.

The second layer of trenches housed mobile mortar teams, their tubes aimed skyward as loaders prepared 120mm high-explosive rounds. Spotters stood with binoculars, their eyes locked on the distant horizon. The third and final trench layer, situated further back, was lined with reserves, ready to fill any gaps in the frontline.

Behind the trenches, the roar of gas turbine engines reverberated as M1A2 Abrams tanks rolled into firing positions, their massive cannons swinging towards pre-planned grid coordinates. Infantry Fighting Vehicles (IFVs), bristling with autocannons and missile pods, positioned themselves alongside the tanks. Dust clouds rose as rows of armored vehicles formed an impenetrable steel wall.

Above the colony, UH-60 Black Hawks and AH-64 Apache helicopters lifted off from makeshift helipads, their rotor blades slicing the morning air. The Apaches bristled with Hellfire missiles and Hydra rocket pods, ready to unleash fiery destruction. Meanwhile, on the partially constructed runway, F-35 Lightning II jets were being hastily prepped. Engineers scrambled to refuel and arm the aircraft while pilots climbed into cockpits, preparing for vertical takeoff since the runway was still incomplete.

Further back, artillery units thundered into life. M777 howitzers and Paladin self-propelled guns, strategically placed on elevated platforms, were loaded and calibrated. Their digital ballistic computers hummed as targeting data was fed in from drone reconnaissance and radar feeds. Crews worked with precision, shouting coordinates over the roar of diesel engines and the grinding sound of metal tracks.

In the civilian sectors of New Washington, chaos was tightly contained. Families huddled together in designated shelters, guarded by armed MPs. Doors and windows were barricaded, and streets emptied as the colony braced for what was to come.