It was ten o'clock in the morning. The Atlas and MARSOC units were interacting with the villagers of Aldo Village, the atmosphere slowly shifting from unease to cautious curiosity. The soldiers had spread throughout the settlement, both to assist in preparations and to learn about the world they'd been thrown into.
"Mister, what is that?" a boy no older than five asked, pointing at the rifle slung across a Marine's chest. His small hands were covered in dirt, his eyes bright with fascination.
The Marine smiled beneath his helmet and knelt down. "This? It's a rifle," he said, patting the weapon. "It helps us protect people."
The boy tilted his head. "Like a sword?"
"Sort of," the Marine chuckled. "But this one fights from far away. It's loud and scary, so don't get too close."
The boy gasped. "I don't know that."
"Well, I can't show you because it's dangerous."
Elsewhere in the square, two Atlas operators were helping a group of men carry timber beams to the palisade. They set it up along with other MARSOC units who were also in the area.
Albert, Ward, and Claes watched as their men were doing the jobs.
"The wooden palisade was supposed to be their primary line of defense when the goblins attacked. For us, it's going to be the last line of defense."
"I don't get it, why did they build a palisade when they were going to abandon this village anyways?" Claes asked.
"Maybe because there are scouts in the goblins' rank that might get in if the village was unguarded. Well, based on the description given to us by the Village Elder, goblins can be killed via sword. So I think they wouldn't even get near the village because we'll drop them long before that happens," Albert finished.
He stepped forward, boot crunching on the packed dirt. The villagers had done their best — the palisade was sturdy enough for bandits, maybe even a few beasts, but not for a horde. To a trained eye like Albert's, it was painfully clear: the defenses were meant to delay, not hold.
"They think this wall will protect them," Claes muttered beside him, his voice low. "But this thing wouldn't even stop a half-dozen insurgents, much less a horde of monsters."
Albert nodded. "That's why we're turning this into a fallback line, not a front. If they breach, this is where we'll regroup. Short fields of fire, fixed defensive points."
Ward adjusted the strap on his rifle, glancing toward the treeline. "We'll want to keep the fight outside the walls as much as possible. Open ground gives us clear lines of fire. Once they swarm in, it's going to get ugly fast."
Albert turned to him. "Agreed. That's why we'll need to set up the tripods for the M240s along the east and north sectors. The south's covered by terrain; that slope can act as a natural barrier."
Claes nodded, folding his arms. "And what about the heavy guns?"
Albert looked to Ward. "When are they coming?"
Ward raised his wrist, checking the time on his battered watch. "The C-130 should be overhead in about ten minutes. We've got one pallet of ammunitions, M2 Browning sentries—pintle mounts and tripods—medical, and a comms kit. That should get us through the night if nothing else goes sideways."
Albert nodded without taking his eyes off the treeline. "Good. Have teams prepped to secure the LZ and strip pallets fast. We don't get a second pass out here."
"Copy," Ward said, already keying his handset. He relayed crisp, clipped commands: who would secure the drop zone, who would shepherd civilians away, who would prepare the heavy mounts.
The rumble started as a distant vibration underfoot and grew into a low, metallic roar. Heads tilted skyward. The black shape of the Hercules slid over the ridge, its belly blunt against the pale sky. Villagers stopped mid-task, mouths open; a child pointed, forgetting the gravity of the hour.
"Pilot's on final," came Keller over the net. "We're green."
"IR strobes in place?" Albert asked.
"Strobes hot. Smoke markers ready. LZ secure," Ward confirmed.
The Hercules made a slow, practiced pass. White canopies peeled away from its open ramp like a flock of oversized moths. Crates and pallets slipped free and turned the air into a scattered constellation; cords hummed as they slowed the fall. The first pallet clipped a tree limb and hung for a beat, then thudded into the field. The second struck softer, rolled, and came to rest.
For a heartbeat everyone simply watched; then Albert barked the order that broke the silence. "Teams Alpha and Bravo, move! Strip and secure!"
Atlas and MARSOC sprinted, cutting shrouds, hauling lines, ripping open crates. Steel met daylight: belts of ammunition, boxes of 5.56 and 7.62, sling-packed medical cases, ammo cans stamped with lot numbers, heavy crates marked "M2." A long, rolled package revealed the Browning's barrel and cradle; another padded frame held the tripod and pintle.
Marines and Atlas operators cleared a path as villagers scrambled back, some crossing themselves, others backing with reverent fear and curiosity. Harvin stood on the hall steps, next to him was Rowan.
"Did you see that…they get their things from the sky?" Rowan said with a dumbfounded expression.
"I know…it's hard to believe…" Harvin said, looking at the outsiders in a new light.
***
Five hours later, the night has descended, shrouding the village in total darkness. Atlas and MARSOC units were equipped with night vision goggles, allowing them to see the night.
They congregated at the main gate where Albert was, along with Ward and Claes.
"Okay listen up!" Albert said with a raised voice. "Tonight we are going to face enemies we have never seen before. Predator One, who was flying over us right now detected movements north of our positions. There is a cluster of them, over a hundred tangoes, maybe more than that. Once they get close, you will fire on my command. Your designations will be the same, Alpha will be for Atlas soldiers and Bravo for the MARSOCS. I'm the leader of the Alpha and Major Claes for Bravo but I have the con."
"How about air support?"
Major Claes asked.
"AC-130 will be inbound in thirty minutes," Albert answered and added. "Now, if you don't have questions, move to battle stations!"