The addition of the PICS team to a routine checkpoint had been recent. The battalion had gone in light. Instead of five PICS platoons, the Fuzos only had two: Golf’s Third Platoon and India’s Second. The intent from on high was that the battalion was there to keep the peace, and having a “militaristic” footprint could send the wrong message. To a man, the Marines and sailors in the battalion thought that was utter hyena shit. What was a Marine battalion but “militaristic?” That was what they were designed to be. But with the increased level of violence, and with one Marine from Hotel KIA, the battalion commander had thrown that guidance out the window, and she’d gone as heavy as she could. Now, with the squad at Checkpoint 3, they had six PICS Marines reinforcing them. Checkpoint 3 was on the south side of Route Wildebeest just as it entered the city, and it was the major, well, the only north-south highway connecting Svealand and Gran Chaco. With almost all of the planet’s armor in the southern and eastern continents, Wildebeest was the only avenue of approach for any significant armor force. Not that the Marines expected any. The Josh would be able to spot any armored movement from up in orbit long before it could reach the city, but having the PICS Marines was probably more of a message. Still, the six should give anyone, not just an armored column, second thoughts about hitting them.
