Chapter 5: A Thicc Idea

The celebration was abruptly cut short when a different sergeant, a tall man with a scar running down his cheek, stormed into the trench. His sharp eyes scanned the scene, his voice laced with irritation. "What the hell is all this commotion about?"

The engineer stood tall, still riding the high of their recent success. "Sir, I present to you the first-ever Anti-Jaeger Cannon!"

The sergeant crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "Anti-Jaeger, you say? How anti-Jaeger are we talking here?"

The engineer motioned toward the distant chunk of thick metal they had already shot through. "Take a look at that target out in the deadman zone, Sergeant."

The sergeant squinted into the distance at the target—easily a hundred yards away—its center blown wide open from the first shot. His eyes narrowed further. "Not bad. But I'm not impressed until I see it happen again."

One of the soldiers hurried off and soon returned with another chunk of thick metal, which they placed far beyond the trench line. The sergeant nodded. "Good. A real test at that distance."

Meanwhile, Randall suddenly remembered a key detail. He leaned toward the engineer and whispered, "We need driving bands on the shell to make it spin with the rifling in the barrel. If it's not spinning, it'll veer off."

The engineer nodded, eyes lighting up. "Smart thinking!" His hands glowed as he chanted, quickly shaping driving bands onto the shells. Once the modifications were complete, he smiled in satisfaction.

Randall loaded the shell and locked it into place. The soldiers grunted as they turned the cannon's barrel toward the distant target, aligning it just right. The distance made aiming trickier, and every adjustment had to be perfect.

Randall turned to the sergeant. "Sir, care to do the honors?"

The sergeant raised a brow, stepping up to the cannon. "You sure it won't blow up in my face?"

Randall smirked. "We're confident enough, sir."

The sergeant chuckled dryly. "Confident enough, huh? I guess that's better than nothing." He carefully adjusted the cannon's position, the soldiers heaving and straining to make precise corrections. After a few tense moments, he muttered, "That should do it."

"Cover your ears," he ordered, gripping the crude trigger.

The explosion was thunderous, louder than the first. The cannon roared and recoiled violently, rolling several feet back as a thick cloud of smoke billowed around them.

As the sound faded and the smoke cleared, all eyes turned toward the distant target. A clean, sharp hole pierced straight through the chunk of metal, dead center. The impact was even more devastating than before, the metal bent and warped around the exit wound.

The sergeant stared at the hole for a moment, then turned back to them, visibly impressed. "Well, I'll be damned... If this thing can punch through Jaeger armor at that range, we've got a real weapon on our hands."

The soldiers erupted in cheers, clapping each other on the back, their spirits soaring.

Randall smiled, but his mind was already racing with possibilities. This was just the beginning.

Sergeant Taylor turned to his squad, his brow furrowed in thought. "How many engineers do we have left here?"

A female soldier standing nearby answered swiftly, her voice steady despite the chaos around them. Randall couldn't help but glance at her. One word came to his mind—thicc. She had a strong, commanding presence, with sleeves rolled up and dirt smudging her face from the long day's work.

"We've got three engineers left, sir," she said. "One from Able Company, one from Charlie, and Corporal Johnson here—he's with Fox Company." She gestured toward the engineer, who was still inspecting the cannon's barrel with a proud grin. "The rest were taken to Point Delta with the division."

Sergeant Taylor's jaw tightened. "What about the lieutenants and other sergeants? How many of us are holding this trench?"

The female soldier's expression grew grim. "All the commanding officers went with the division, sir, including the colonel. You're the only sergeant left, Sergeant Taylor."

Taylor's eyes darkened, and he shook his head in disappointment. "Those cowards… running off and leaving us to die here." He sighed, glancing around at the ragtag group of soldiers who had somehow managed to create a miracle weapon in the face of despair.

The female soldier hesitated for a moment before asking, "Shall we inform the platoon about these new developments, sir?"

Taylor paused, then shook his head firmly. "No. I'm not about to let some desk jockey or rear-line goon take all the credit for this. We'll just say the men built it out of desperation. If it works and we survive the next attack, we'll report it properly when the time comes."

He turned to Corporal Johnson. "Corporal, I want you to prepare a full report on this. I'll take it to our new HQ once we survive this attack. Until then, keep refining it and make sure we can actually hit something when it counts."

Randall felt a chill run down his spine at the sergeant's words. When it counts.

Taylor glanced up at the sky. The sun hung high, but it wouldn't stay there for long. He narrowed his eyes at the horizon, his voice dropping into a grave tone. "We've got until nightfall to get this thing combat-ready. The Hermans will attack at dawn… and I don't intend for us to go down without a fight."

As Corporal Johnson, Randall, and the two soldiers stood before him, Sergeant Taylor remained fixated on the crude map he had sketched for the defensive line. His eyes traced every line and arrow with intense focus, calculating every possible angle of survival.

"Sarge," the female soldier said, snapping him from his thoughts, "Corporal Johnson and his squad are here."

Taylor looked up, dropping his pen onto the table with a soft clatter. His tired eyes briefly flickered with a spark of hope.

"Corporal… I have no words for what you've done here. This cannon—it's nothing short of a miracle. Frankly, we should've declared ourselves dead the moment we heard Jaegers were headed our way. But you—" Taylor paused, gesturing at the cannon parts resting nearby, "—you changed all that."

Corporal Johnson quickly shook his head. "No, Sarge. I can't take full credit. The ideas came mostly from Private Randall here. I just turned his vision into reality."

Taylor's gaze shifted to Randall, his eyes narrowing in curiosity. "Is that so?" He crossed his arms. "In that case… thank you for your efforts, Private. I also heard about your heroic act—how you gave up your spot to save that young soldier."

The room fell silent for a moment. Taylor's voice softened, but his tone carried weight.

"I can't even begin to describe how brave that was, Randall. I wouldn't have been able to do the same. In this desperate, godforsaken battlefield, where most of us have only learned how to fight for our own survival… you showed selflessness."

He took a deep breath, his face growing serious once more.

"But we're not saved yet," Taylor continued. "We have until dawn tomorrow before the Hermans hit us, and you can bet the Jaegers will lead the charge. If we want to stand a chance, we need at least five of those cannons stationed across our defensive line. Five, covering each other's blind spots."

Taylor paced, running a hand through his dirt-matted hair. "Problem is, we don't have enough engineers—hell, we barely have three. But if we can pull this off, just maybe we'll survive long enough to change the tide of this war."

He stopped and locked eyes with Randall.

"My point is… you've already saved one life, Private. Help us build these cannons, and you'll save dozens—maybe hundreds—more. You'll make sure no man on this front fears the sight of a Jaeger ever again."

The room buzzed with a newfound energy, determination rising from the grim faces around the table.

Sergeant Taylor pinned the map to the board and gestured for everyone to gather around. His finger traced a winding path through the drawn terrain.

"Listen up. We've got about a kilometer of defensive line covering this narrow mountain pass. Right here," he tapped on the central position marked by a red X, "is where we'll make our stand. Originally, the platoon planned a multi-layered defensive strategy, but with Jaegers in play, that's all gone to hell. Usually, we rig the trenches with explosive spells and take down at most three Jaegers with a well-timed detonation."

He paused, scanning their faces. "But now… with our new weapon—the Anti-Jaeger cannon—we have a chance to push back harder than ever before. Our effective range will cover at least 200 yards."

Randall raised his hand. "Sir, with all due respect, the cannon's range can actually reach up to 500 meters before the projectile's penetration starts to weaken."

The sergeant blinked, his brow furrowing. "Five hundred meters? Are you sure, Private?"

"Yes, sir," Randall nodded confidently. "If we can attach proper sights to the cannons, we'll be able to calculate the parabolic drop of each projectile for accuracy. At that range, we can hit them before they even know what's coming."

Sergeant Taylor's face lit up with a wide grin. "Then we'll change the plan. We'll station each cannon a few feet apart for overlapping fields of fire. Every cannon will be protected by two repeater teams for support."

He circled a spot on the map with his finger. "According to intelligence, the Hermans will send at least ten Jaegers this time."

A heavy silence fell over the room. Corporal Johnson's face turned pale. "Ten?" he muttered. "The last wave only sent three. Why so many now?"

Taylor's eyes glinted with resolve. "Don't worry, Corporal. This time, we're ready. With those cannons in position, we'll cut them down before they breach the first trench. This could be the turning point of the war."

The sergeant turned to the female soldier. "Corporal Sanley, I need you to escort these men to the engineers we have left in each company. Consolidate the remaining soldiers into a single defensive force. Everyone must be ready by dawn."

Sanley saluted with a curt nod. "Yes, sir."

Randall and Johnson followed her as she led the way out of the command post. The air was thick with tension, but something new simmered beneath it—hope.

Randall walked a few steps behind Sanley, his eyes occasionally drifting toward her. She moved with practiced efficiency, scanning the area for any sign of trouble. 

"So," Sanley said over her shoulder, breaking the silence, "you're the genius behind this new cannon?"

"Uh, something like that," Randall answered, scratching the back of his neck. "It was more of a team effort."

Sanley smirked. "Well, team or not, you've just earned yourself a lot of attention, Private. I hope you're ready for it."