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Humanity’s Greatest Mecha Warrior System – Chapter 103: Prepare For Incoming Bahasa Indonesia

As the senior unit on location, it falls to the Special Tactics Unit to arrange for the defense of the Uranium mine against the incoming Narsian attack wave. Eight of the fifteen heavy mecha wings are down already, as well as all five infantry landers.

The infantry will take a long time to get here, as they have no amphibious equipment for the meter-deep swamp and its muddy bottom. But the Heavy Mecha should be here within the next ten minutes, so Max sets them a perimeter pattern, enclosing the tightly grouped landers as well as the mine, with an emphasis on the side closest to dry land, where the enemy numbers are highest.

At first, a few units question why he has sent so many to a sector that isn’t currently under attack, but once the incoming wave of Narsian infantry gets closer, the spread of their pattern clearly shows that the main force is indeed taking the shortest direct route to where they last encountered Max’s mecha.

There isn’t much they can do for defenses in this place, but many units start piling up fallen trees to form a defensive bulwark in front of their light mecha. Plasma weapons, like the ones that the Narsians prefer, have very little penetrating power, the rounds tend to explode on impact, due to their unstable nature. That increases their damage, but it also means that you don’t need much of a barrier to block the first wave of attacks.

Randomly piled trees are perfect for the purpose, as the pattern means that even as chunks get blown away, the majority of the barrier will remain intact and functional.

After half an hour, every lander intended for the region has made the ground intact, and their occupants have fallen into position. Max assigned six wings of mecha to the base itself, along with all the infantry, allowing them to have a mobile force to defend against large attacks later without having to rearrange the defenses that Max had set up. From the orders that he has seen, it is possible that half of these Mecha might be sent out on attack later, along with most of the infantry, but for now, the directive is to hold the mine.

Even Max’s own redeployment has been held for the time being, as Abraham Kepler has detected large movements of Narsian troops headed this way.

“Hey Max, what do you want to bet that we are the bait? Looking over the lander patterns, no other group of drops was so densely packed or arrived so close together. They likely think that this is a super-secret military facility or something.” Nico laughed over the radio.

“Don’t even say that. We were the bait last time and it sucked. It sucked a lot. Paul complains, watching over the region from inside his mecha.

“We got a nice safe spot on a bridge in the middle of nowhere last time and look how that worked out? Some arse blew all the other bridges up and we got charged by Super Heavy Mecha for a month straight.” Nico points out, and Max can hear the infantry outside his mecha laughing.

Everyone knows that a serious battle is coming, but if these veteran officers are relaxed enough that they can joke about the times that life actually sucked, it must not be that bad, at least in the hopeful minds of these recruits.

“Someone put on an extra pot of stew. We have a couple of hours left until the first attackers arrive, and I want everyone up and ready for the first wave.” Max orders, sending Alpha Company’s infantry, who are back on mine defense duty right now, into overdrive.

The other infantry units have also set up kitchens down in the mine to feed everyone here, but usually, only one-third of the mecha are on duty at a time, with the others either on standby and relaxing, or sleeping. That way, they also all eat at different intervals, so to have everyone ready and fed at once is a monumental task.

The Stew as it was called, wasn’t actually an official meal of the Kepler Military. Instead, the assorted dried fruits and meats that came with the rations, items that were only eaten in the direst of situations where extra calories were a life or death matter, were combined together with water and spices and boiled into a stew. The result was a savory and sweet combination much better than the sum of its parts, and without the inherent danger of broken teeth that the dried products came with.

Since they had a proper kitchen today, they also combined the breakfast oats into the mix, using the flavoring and powdered cream to add to the flavor.

An hour later, the meal was being sent out, to the Pilots, while the Infantry enjoyed the extra portions of stew. It’s nearly impossible to transport bowls of hot liquid, so the Pilots get the ration meals, while the infantry trades theirs for stew. It’s an eminently fair trade in their minds, and the Pilots are used to it, since most of them would prefer to stay in their mecha this close to an attack anyhow.

Even before the Narsian troops get here, the advance forces will likely set up Artillery to shell their location and try to put the defense force off balance. They might not have as much technology as the Kepler Forces, especially in the sensory department, but they aren’t complete idiots.

“Hey, Stalwart, long hot shower and then a bubble bath,” Nico calls over the intercom, bringing Max’s attention to the stale smell of heavily filtered air as his recirculation system strains to keep the rotten stench of the swamp out of his cockpit.

“You are truly evil, you know that right?” Max responds, laughing. The five of them in Crusaders might be able to fully filter the air, but the Corvette Class Pilots have to exit their Mecha at the end of the shift to get proper rest since the cockpit is too small for a bunk.

“No, evil is fresh laundry with the Lemon Detergent and a hot cup of cocoa.” Nico returns and Max can hear the men outside groan.

“Make her stop, I was already longing for cocoa and clean socks.” One of the newly arrived infantry complains, shifting in his wet boots and making the soldiers of the Special Tactics unit laugh.

“How many pairs did you bring, Private?” Captain Catan asks curiously.

“The regulation issue four pairs, Sir?” The man answers, not understanding the problem.

“See son, if you had an experienced Commander like Major Max over there, he would have told you that the answer is twelve pairs. No more no less. You might get by with only the two uniforms, but you need all the socks you can get.” The Captain informs him, and many of the other soldiers of the Special Tactics Unit nod their agreement.

Every few days a pot of filtered water will be boiled to wash laundry in, and if they are lucky, there might even be detergent to get them cleaner. But in the swamp, four pairs of socks is barely enough for one day, much less two or three.

“I will put in an order for extras with the first supply drop.” His commander sighs, seeing the enlightenment in the eyes of his unit as they learn about the simple oversight they have made.

“Any other words of wisdom from the veterans?” The Lieutenant asks curiously, looking up at Stalwart, which is standing off to the side of the base.

“Sure. No matter how much ammunition you think is enough, it’s not. Don’t wait until your men start running low on power packs to start recharging them. Start them the second the first packs are depleted. One less man on the line is a far smaller problem than empty rifles.” Max suggests, and the Lieutenant nods and writes it down in a notepad.

That’s not a good sign. He was most likely made an officer due to his Noble heritage and knows exactly zero about combat. Even if they’re not his troops, they are still on his side, so Max decides to give a little more advice.

“And one more thing. If you have sergeants who have served planetside, or in law enforcement, listen to them. It might not be by the book, but what works and what is written are rarely the same thing when you want to stay alive as an infantry officer.” Max adds, the amplified exterior intercom of Stalwart carrying to most of the Infantry units in the area. Hopefully, most of them take those messages to heart. It is their first mission of a ten-year deployment, and the first mission is always the highest losses.

[All Units to defensive positions. Artillery incoming.] Comes the voice of Ari over the open channel.

Max isn’t sure how she knows already, possibly due to one of her System Skills, but she isn’t wrong. Seconds later the first shells whistle by overhead, hitting the open ground between the mine and the perimeter mecha.

Great, just what Max needed, an area bombardment to begin his day.


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