Inside the command cabin of the Phantom III:
"Governor, our ground forces have completely surrounded the Macarena Mountains."
"Major MacTavish's advance team has located the enemy's experimental base."
"Mercenary casualties are rising, but we've gathered plenty of enemy data from the electronic eyes of the fallen."
The crew members from Terra relayed real-time updates through the consoles in front of them to Rogal Dorn, who stood at the center of the cabin.
This Phantom III was Dorn's personal command craft for atmospheric operations, so the corridors and cabins had been enlarged to accommodate his massive frame. In a standard Phantom III, Dorn's size would have caused the vessel to feel "cramped" and possibly even burst at the seams. Even when joking with friends like the dwarf Solyan or the human Bomir, Dorn had to be careful not to injure them accidentally.
Listening to the crew's reports and confirming the ground battle's progress on the holographic screen before him, Dorn gave a decisive order: "Deploy four synthetics near Major MacTavish's location to take over the assault task from the advance team."
"Understood, Governor," the crew responded, and a faint vibration reverberated through the ship as the synthetic soldiers, originally on standby in the lower section of the Phantom, were rapidly deployed to the jungle below using atmospheric drop pods.
"One more thing," Dorn added. "Preserve all unit footage and combat records and send them to Selene, the Investigation Division, and Intelligence Division."
"Yes, sir," another crew member acknowledged.
Dorn was meticulous in his operations. With his father assigning him the task of unifying the Cyberpunk universe, Dorn saw this as an opportunity to rigorously train his personal forces.
In the Cyberpunk universe, the individual combat abilities of corporate mercenaries, security forces, and regular troops were nearly on par with Atlas's elite soldiers who had received the Inquis serum.
The reason the Royal Guard and veteran AECS soldiers were able to dominate so effectively was due to Atlas's superior logistics and the more advanced personal equipment and standardized weapons they wielded.
Had the company not deployed nearly 70% of its clone army—over a million soldiers—to the Halo universe, the Cyberpunk universe would have been unable to withstand the seemingly endless waves of elite "cannon fodder."
Clones, having inherited the combat experience and data of their predecessors the moment they stepped off the production line, were essentially veteran soldiers from the start. And if clones fell in battle, the company only lost a tiny, insignificant amount of resources. But if human soldiers, with souls, were to die, Dorn would feel deep grief.
He did not want his fellow human soldiers to suffer heavy casualties, especially not in the ranks of his personal forces.
Until the second wave of human soldiers, enhanced with gene-seed implants and basic training, returned, Dorn had to act cautiously. Unlike his father, he didn't have the ability to "reset."
This was also why Dorn had realized that by integrating the highly developed cybernetic technology from the Cyberpunk universe into Atlas's bioweapons, they could further reduce the number of casualties among frontline soldiers.
Cyberpsychosis, which plagued the local residents, was a non-issue for synthetics and clones.
Especially for self-aware synthetics, being artificial beings, they didn't experience rejection of prosthetics or cyberware. As long as consciousness transfer was completed, even the brain could be replaced.
The four synthetics recently deployed were upgraded models from Terra's Biology Division, enhanced with Cyberpunk cyberware.
As for the experimental units, Dorn planned to have the group of young recruits test these technologies before they were implemented for human soldiers.
The power and effects of the cyberware were secondary. What Atlas valued most was safety.
When the Biology Division developed new cyberware, it was first tested on Class-D personnel. Once the technology matured, the experimental troops would provide the necessary combat data.
However, Dorn made it clear that the health—both physical and mental—of the experimental troops was to be closely monitored, a non-negotiable order.
As for the human rights of Class-D personnel, Dorn wasn't concerned.
Meanwhile, on the ground, deep in the jungle:
Boom! Boom!
Rat-tat-tat!
Explosions and gunfire filled the air.
This indicated that the soldiers of Militech, whose bodies were, on average, only 40% organic, were still resisting fiercely.
However, it was possible that many of these soldiers had been forcibly outfitted with "safety measures" by Militech, leaving them no choice but to fight Atlas.
In the Cyberpunk universe, after all, one of the cheapest resources was human life.
Thud, thud.
Suddenly, a black-painted Cyclops mech, followed by two fully-armored Tyrants, emerged from the dense jungle into a relatively open area.
Right behind them was an infantry combat platoon from the Royal Guard.
These soldiers wore exoskeletons fitted with dwarven-forged armor. Their uniforms were predominantly black, but detailed in silver and yellow to distinguish them from other divisions within Atlas.
Their helmets, equipped with built-in holographic displays, featured a knightly design reminiscent of Terra.
The platoon commander, a second lieutenant, sported a helmet adorned with a red plume, and his right shoulder bore a half-sleeved yellow cape.
As for their weapons, they carried Gauss guns modified by the dwarven foundries, while the officers and non-commissioned officers wielded BFG-series firearms.
Though their armor made them look heavily encumbered, it included temperature regulation systems to keep them cool in the jungle heat and protect them from insect bites.
This platoon's task was to advance steadily toward the southern Macarena Mountains, in coordination with the Cyclops and Tyrants.
Beneath his helmet, the lieutenant monitored the movements of friendly forces on a radar displayed in the top left corner of his visor.
Occasionally, red dots—representing enemy units—would appear, only to be swiftly eliminated by nearby units.
Since deploying from their transport vehicles at the frontlines, they had encountered little resistance.
After marching for some time, the Cyclops, equipped with enhanced pulse scanners and dynamic detection systems, abruptly halted. Its left arm-mounted rotary Gauss cannon aimed toward the southern jungle.
The radar on the lieutenant's visor indicated that about a kilometer away, a mercenary team was being surrounded by numerous "red dots."
A moment later, a distress signal flashed across his visor.
The lieutenant opened the alert to hear:
"This is—ah! Damn! This is Mercenary Squad 0076! We need backup! These bastards have cloaking tech!"
It was the voice of the 0076 squad leader, sending a real-time distress call.
"Lieutenant, should we provide fire support?" the Cyclops operator asked through the team's communication channel.
"Provide support," the lieutenant ordered, raising his commander-type BFG rifle. "Everyone, lock onto enemy units and prepare for a full barrage at my signal."
Acknowledging the order, the platoon used the data provided by the Cyclops to lock onto their targets for the first salvo.
Beep-beep.
The soft sounds of targeting confirmation filled the air as the infantry locked in, while the Cyclops and Tyrants took a more "direct" approach by aiming their cannons in the general direction of the enemy.
Seeing everyone was ready, the lieutenant gave the order: "Fire."
Rat-tat-tat!
Boom! Boom!
The roar of gunfire and artillery filled the jungle.
Blue tracer rounds and armor-piercing, high-explosive rounds instantly shredded the dense foliage before them.
While many of the first rounds didn't hit their distant targets, none of the soldiers lifted their fingers from the trigger, maintaining a constant barrage of fire toward the enemy's position.
In mere seconds, everything in their path was obliterated.
The red dots on the radar representing enemy forces quickly disappeared.
Once the radar confirmed the threat was neutralized, the soldiers finally eased their fingers off the triggers.
Whirr.
The Cyclops's rotary Gauss cannon gradually slowed to a stop, its mechanical whirring echoing through the forest.
With the mercenary squad now out of danger, the Royal Guard infantry reloaded their magazines.
"Resume original mission," the lieutenant said, glancing again toward the Macarena Mountains. "Let's move."
At his command, the platoon moved deeper into the jungle, coordinating with the Cyclops and Tyrants until they vanished from sight.
Back with Mercenary Squad 0076:
"Whew, we're saved!"
Pilar, a long-armed mercenary wearing Atlas's red and white "Λ" insignia, collapsed onto the damp soil, panting heavily.
Looking around, the jungle was littered with fallen trees, branches, and the mangled remains of enemies killed by various sizes of Gauss rounds and nail cannons. Blood mixed with oil seeped into the earth.
The squad's leader was the towering, muscle-bound Maine. Next to Pilar were Falco, the driver, Kiwi, the hacker, and Dorio, Maine's lieutenant and lover.
Several other familiar faces from Night City rounded out the group.
Since being forcibly dragged into the war, Maine and his team had come to a clear realization—nothing mattered more than staying alive.
Compared to the wars they had fought in Night City, the past few weeks of combat made those mercenary jobs seem like child's play.
Atlas's weapons were advanced, sure, but Militech wasn't far behind.
As a result, they had found themselves caught between the two forces as cannon fodder.
Somehow, since leaving Night
City, their luck had held, and they had managed to survive so far.
If Atlas succeeded in capturing the Macarena Mountains and seizing Militech's factories and equipment, they would be "released from service" and allowed to return to the rebuilding Night City.
Atlas had promised to pay them their earned wages, along with compensation for their service.
After a short rest, Maine stood up. His cybernetic eyes displayed the next set of mission objectives, and he spoke: "Alright, let's stop complaining and get back to work. We've got debts to pay off before we can enjoy life."
"Ugh, back to being Atlas's workhorses," Pilar groaned, sluggishly picking up his rifle as he and the rest of the team followed Maine deeper into the jungle.
Meanwhile, the nearest friendly units to Maine's group were the four newly deployed synthetics.
However, these synthetic soldiers, whose thought processes were more akin to intelligent AIs, ignored the distress signal.
From their perspective, mercenaries were "non-staff employees," not official company personnel.
Moreover, upper management had already classified mercenaries as "expendable" units. Thus, in the synthetics' eyes, heading to Major Soap MacTavish's position was the top priority.
At the foot of the Macarena Mountains:
Four synthetics, clad in advanced combat suits with optical camouflage, crossed a rushing river, finally reaching the rendezvous point.
To the naked eye, the area seemed empty—just dense trees and chest-high thickets.
Rustle, rustle.
The subtle sound of breaking branches and shifting leaves indicated that the synthetics and the advance team were maintaining their stealth modes.
Under his helmet, Soap could see the outlines of his teammates and the synthetics, thanks to the HUD outlining their positions on his screen.
Each teammate's outline had labels above their heads, with names like "Soap," "Ghost," and "Zero."
The synthetics, however, were identified by codes like "SH-P-001" and "SH-P-002."
Soap marked a green box on his display and spoke to Synthetic 001: "Based on our recon, the marked point is the emergency exit leading into the mountains. Inside, we believe Militech's experimental base is located."
He paused before continuing, "According to the original plan, our advance team was supposed to breach the base.
"But command wants more combat data from your unit, so the task of breaching the emergency exit is now yours. We'll follow at a distance and provide support if necessary."
"Understood, Major," came the clear, almost melodic reply from 001.
Soap wasn't surprised by this. When they met at the rendezvous point, he had noticed that 001 and 003 were female synthetics based on their outlines.
As soon as 001 finished speaking, she and her three companions "vanished" into the jungle.
With the advanced combat suits (nano-suits) aiding their vision, and their naturally enhanced sight, Soap and his team could see the synthetics moving at six or seven times normal speed toward the escape route.
"Cyborgs always make me feel uneasy," Soap remarked, gesturing for his team to follow as he muttered, "I'm never letting the company implant those things in me. Original parts are better."
"Agreed," Ghost said, "That's why the company uses synthetics for cyberware. On future battlefields, we human soldiers might find ourselves left in the rear."
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