Chapter 631: Hellfire Squad
On a newly demarcated training field along the perimeter of Hell's Gate, a thirty-man elite mobile strike unit handpicked by Colonel Quaritch stood fully assembled.
Designated the "Hellfire Squad," its members were seasoned veterans who had survived repeated skirmishes with the Na'vi. Their expressions were hardened and fierce, radiating an unmistakable combat edge.
Maine, Dorio, and Falco stood before them.
Maine's massive, cyberized build and stony features carried innate pressure. Dorio swept a piercing gaze across every soldier, while Falco operated a datapad in silence, logging their initial physiological and tactical baselines.
Colonel Quaritch stood to the side with his arms crossed, fully intending to oversee the entire training regimen in person.
"I know you think you are hot stuff just because you survived harassment from those blue monkeys," Maine spoke in a voice that was not loud, yet carried clearly into the ears of every soldier. "But let me tell you right now: in most of your past engagements, you survived on sheer luck and standard plate, not on what is in here."
He tapped his temple with a finger.
Several soldiers in the ranks wore skeptical smirks.
Ignoring them, Maine pressed on: "Starting today, forget your predictable patrol routes and rigid perimeter defense doctrines. What you are going to learn is how to think like hunters, move like ghosts, and strike with lethal precision in this damned forest."
Combat Conditioning
The training transitioned immediately into live-fire drills.
Dorio took charge of close-quarters combat and emergency response drills.
She demonstrated how to exploit the momentum inherent in the Na'vi's towering frames for counter-throws, how to read and sidestep the lunging vectors of Viperwolves, and how to utilize terrain to create physical barriers and counter-attack windows when surrounded. Her movements were swift, explosive, and devoid of flair. Within a few quick exchanges, she dropped the squad's bulkiest operator flat onto the dirt, earning the initial respect of the veteran line.
Falco familiarized them with the upgraded sensor suites.
He broke down the effective scan envelopes and blind spots of the new sensor cores, how to deduce threat tiers and unit counts through telemetry feedback, and optimal deployment anchors for long-range repeaters in fractured terrain. He ran multiple simulated encounters, drilling the operators to execute rapid flanking maneuvers, interlocking fields of fire, and disciplined tactical withdrawals guided by real-time sensor pings.
Most critical of all was the tactical doctrine for the plasma rifles, instructed directly by Maine.
He emphasized the fundamental operational difference from kinetic firearms: zero ballistic drop, but requiring a brief recharge cycle between pulses, meaning the volume of sustained fire differed from automatic rifles. He drilled the soldiers in disciplined short bursts, leveraging the beam's immense penetration against Na'vi concealed behind thick root buttresses or the bone armor of Direhorses. To compensate for the recharge intervals, he introduced a three-man leapfrogging volley formation to maintain an unbroken wall of fire.
The regimen was brutal.
Maine's unit trained them entirely against the doctrine standards of elite Astra Militarum strike units from the Warhammer universe. The high-intensity cross-country marches, stalking drills, and tactical integration runs pushed even these hardened RDA mercenaries to their absolute limits.
Yet the operational yield was undeniable.
Within days, the unit's tactical posture and combat cohesion sharpened visibly. They learned to use ambient lighting and forest noise to mask their signatures, communicated with terse efficiency over comms, and mastered the handling of their upgraded weapon platforms.
During a simulated defensive engagement where Maine and Falco acted as Na'vi ambushers, Hellfire Squad—operating without explicit command prompts—relied on sensor telemetry and battlefield instincts to seize dominant terrain. They established an interlocking crossfire grid and successfully repelled the assault.
Following the drill, Colonel Quaritch walked up to Maine, a rare look of satisfaction on his weathered face: "Not bad at all, Maine. These boys actually look the part now. That new hardware of yours is solid too—far better than the scrap our tech boys cobbled together."
"They still require verification in live combat," Maine maintained his usual composure. "True combat remains the only definitive crucible."
Quaritch grinned, baring his teeth: "You will have your chance soon enough. Things have been noisy southeast of the mining sector lately. Good opportunity to let them stretch their legs. Care to join the party? Consider it their graduation exam."
"Agreed," Maine nodded to Quaritch. "We will deploy alongside them to provide field tactical oversight."
A lethal blade sharpened directly by the expedition team was about to clear its scabbard. This maiden engagement would not only test their training methodology, but yield vital first-hand data on the Na'vi's latest tactical adaptations and the true combat baseline of RDA ground assets.
Ambush at the Pipeline
The operational theater lay southeast of the mining sector, bordering a dense stand of towering spiral-trunked hardwoods.
The terrain here was far more fractured than the open flats. Enormous buttress root networks and weeping bioluminescent vines formed a natural labyrinth—an ideal staging ground for Na'vi guerrilla ambushes.
A secondary RDA slurry pipeline traversed this corridor, having suffered repeated sabotage runs in recent cycles.
Hellfire Squad deployed aboard two Samson transport helicopters, escorted by Maine, Dorio, and Falco on a low-altitude ingress into the sector.
In accordance with the new tactical doctrine, they did not touch down beside the pipeline. Instead, they fast-roped into a relatively open clearing roughly one kilometer out from the objective, fanning out into a dispersed perimeter formation. Utilizing their upgraded sensors and natural foliage cover, they advanced toward the pipeline without making a sound.
Stationed in the center of the formation, Falco monitored his portable terminal, which displayed real-time sensor pings along the pipeline perimeter.
Suddenly, several red icons flashed along the edge of the display.
"Contact warning. Three o'clock vector, range two hundred meters. Five... no, seven bio-signatures. High movement speed, utilizing canopy cover to approach Pipeline Marker Three," Falco reported evenly.
Back at Hell's Gate, Colonel Quaritch observed the operation via live tactical feed. He refrained from stepping in, leaving operational command entirely to Maine and Hellfire Squad's field leader, a veteran sergeant named Reynolds.
"All units, stay dark. Execute Engagement Protocol Three," Sergeant Reynolds commanded over the encrypted squad link, his voice steady. Through the drills, he had grown fully attuned to setting ambushes guided by proactive sensor feeds.
The operators halted immediately, slipping behind cover. The plasma rifles in their hands entered a pre-charged state, emitting a faint, high-frequency hum.
Maine and Dorio blended into the dense thicket, taking up dominant high ground on the flanks to provide overwatch and heavy fire support.
Moments later, the silhouettes of seven Na'vi hunters appeared among the branches.
Moving with fluid grace, they swung through thick boughs and dangling vines, producing virtually no sound. Entirely unaware that their approach had been compromised, they charged directly toward the exposed pipeline segment, carrying crude explosive charges crafted from organic compounds.
The moment they crossed within fifty meters of the pipeline to prime their charges, Sergeant Reynolds barked the command:
"Open fire!"