The "Space Powers" were limited, but the moon held wealth. It was a gold rush into space. I suppose it was inevitable.
Everyone thought wars ended up between two sides. Sure, the US had allies: the UK, India, Australia and the like. And we had our enemies; Russia and China. 'Cept this time they weren't allied. Too many competing interests. This time it was US, verse them, verse them.
Corporal Fig McNulty looked over at Private "Johnnie" Singh. He slapped the man's helmet to make sure the suit seal could take a hit. Not that it would matter if the suit took too many shrapnel hits. They were only good to seal up a shot or two, and in hard-vac that was a death sentence.
The other two PFCs[1] in his fire team checked the magazines on their Northrup-GD "Fang" M7A1 Magpulse Assault Rifles. They were the latest tech in magnetic-rail rifles. No atmo, meant poor propulsion for old school slug throwers. So magpulse was the only reasonable option. Lasers took too much power and were reserved for the heavy suits.
Once the team was ready they had to head out into the sweet low-g that Luna had to offer. It took a minute for the airlock to cycle. Like old cannonballs they leapt forth onto the dusty surface, hurdling as they went. It was patrol time around Mining Station KG67. First team had come in an hour ago. *Too much of a gap," McNulty thought to himself.
"Bounding" took on a new meaning on the lunar surface, each step in the micro-powered suits gave them twice the leap of an old Apollo astronaut. Each time they gained altitude their sensors swept for enemy probes and patrols.
"Corporal!" It was Singh, he had spotted something. "I see a six man team. Dragon-suits. Damn, Chinese! 3 klicks out."
The Chinese medium-infantry suits were heavy and slow, but they could take a pounding.
McNulty turned his men to arc around the Chinese flank, while PFC Montez stayed put to lay down some suppressive fire. He doubted the invaders would fall for the ruse.
Surprisingly, they did. Three of the Dragons slowed their steady charge to return fire, while only half their number took pot shots at the advancing Marines. The Chinese Space Army - CSA - wasn't always picked for their tactical strength, but their fearless nature.
McNulty made the first half regret their pause and blasted down on them from above, launching a grenade into their midst. He ignored the sporadic light fire directed at him. His rain of death and destruction appeared to take down two of the Dragons as his sensors registered a major heat drop in the fallen suits.
Still three of the Dragons continued their leaping march on the mining rig, while the remaining Dragon nursed his wounds. PFC Wall lit him up and ended his misery.
Now the three Marines in movement were behind the CSA Dragons pressing down on the rig, while Montez continued to pepper them. "Johnny, drop a 'nade on them!" Private Singh did launch one their way, but it went slightly wide and only served to veer them off course. One Dragon did slow down, allowing McNulty to pick the straggler off with a pair of well-aimed shots. Can't let em damage the rig...are they on a suicide run?
"Montez, start moving on those remaining two!"
Singh was the next closest. Both men work working hard to gain ground while still maintaining presence of fire. McNulty watched the action unfold while he bounded ahead. Singh scored a hit on the lead Dragon.
It erupted into a concussive ball of force, consuming both suits.
Must have been a suicide run after all. "Ok, boys, back to patrol. Let's hope Ivan doesn't decide to play today."
[1] Private First Class (E2). Second lowest rank in the Marines.