|
Deep in the Kalahari Desert in southern Africa, the heat was nearly unbearable. For nearly a week, the men and women of Ardan Massenfer's independent operation at RF-4 had to endure extreme desert temperatures, and getting work done during the day was nearly impossible. Massenfer lounged on the shaded porch of the mine's barracks, his feet resting up on the porch railing. Nearby, a large fan breezed cool air over his face, preventing heat stroke. Beads of sweat rolled down his face, and most of his shirt was wet. "The weather is fucking shit," he pronounced, "But I love making money." High above the desert landscape of South Africa, the Medea Alab drifted lazily, nearly perfectly centered over the mining operation RF-4. The operation had been hijacked by guerillas, and the two Federation soldiers Hector Lagrama and Tobias Obrien had been tasked to take it back. In the cargo hold of the Medea, the two pilots waited in the cockpits of their mobile suits, the Gundam MPGT and the GM S respectively. Next to Obrien's GM S was another GM, his subordinate's. "This is mildly crazy," Lagrama said over the radio. "Nah," Obrien replied. He shifted his GM S slightly and waved at his fellow soldier. Barely tapping his thrusters, Obrien maneuvered forward, out of the open cargo hold, and his mobile suit began falling rapidly towards the ground. The GM followed quickly behind. Lagrama looked apprehensively out of the back of the Medea. "Here goes nothing," he muttered, and powered his Gundam MPGT forward. The pit of his stomach fell as his mobile suit began to quickly fall through the sky, the ground already rapidly approaching. All three mobile suits had been equipped with a large parachute rig that would, hopefully, allow the Federation suits to land relatively gently on the ground. Massenfer had finally fallen into a nap when the obnoxiously loud mine alarm system activated, sending the mine's personnel scattering in all directions. The rogue commander jerked awake and ran out in front of the barracks, whirling around, looking for danger. A nearby soldier ran past Massenfer, and the rogue stopped him. "What the hell is going on?" The soldier merely pointed skywards. Looking up, Massenfer spotted three, rapidly falling objects. "Ah shit," he cursed. He sprinted towards the mobile suit hanger, taking him a good minute to get there. He was pleased that the other mobile suits under his command, two Dracken Es equipped with 100mm recoilless bazookas, two Zaku II Js equipped with 280mm bazookas, and a Zaku II-K equipped with both its 180mm shoulder cannon and a 120 Zaku machinegun, were already prepping for battle. "At least I trained then well," he muttered. It took another minute for the rogue to climb into the cockpit of his Gouf, and another minute to run a quick systems check and begin maneuver out of the mine's hanger. "Go time!" he yelled over the radio frequency that linked him with the mobile suits under his command. Above, the three mobile suits falling through the sky had deployed their parachutes and were now falling much more slowly to the ground. Massenfer calculated that he and his team had about a minute before the heavy Federation mobile suits hit the ground. "Open fire!" he yelled over the radio. Equipped with a 100mm GM machinegun, he and his mobile suit team began firing into the sky, sending rockets, cannons, and shells high into the air towards the incoming enemy mobile suits. A few of his machinegun rounds struck against the closest Federation suit, a significantly beefed-up GM S type, but the rounds struck uselessly against the reactive armor plating, the armor ablating to remove the force of the impact. The other suits mostly missed, their rockets ranging wide. Two did strike home, one against the GM and the other against the arm shield of the Gundam MPGT. The mining operation's AA guns opened up, sending scores of cannon shells skywards. Most rounds missed. After the first barrage, the Federation suits responded. The heavy duty GM and the Gundam MPGT were utilizing 305mm bazookas, and the GM was using the standby 90mm GM machinegun. Immediately, one of the Dracken Es exploded as one of the Gundam's rocket rounds stroke home. Debris scattered in all directions. "Shit," Massenfer yelled. "Spread out!" His mobile suits scattered. Lagrama grunted as one of his 305mm bazooka rounds annihilated one of the tiny Dracken Es. He and fellow Federation pilots continued their rain of fire upon the rogue forces, though their fire became ineffective as the enemy mobile suits scattered across the mining facility. Another rocket round struck against the Gundam MPGT, shaking Lagrama in his cockpit. The pilot punched the quick release button for the parachute and fell the last two hundred feet the ground, crashing heavily onto the base's pavement, cracking the asphalt. Quickly he turned his 305mm bazooka towards the nearest target, the second Dracken E. Depressing the trigger, the round shot forward, impacting against the torso of the much smaller mobile suit. The Dracken exploded violently, sending a shower of debris skywards. His Gundam suddenly staggered forward as a bazooka round struck against his back. Turning swiftly, Lagrama watched as his opponent, a Zaku II J strafed to his left. Raising his bazooka, he throttled the Gundam MPGT forward, sending a 305mm bazooka round streaking towards the Zaku. The missile barely missed, sailing past the enemy mobile suit. Cursing, Lagrama was barely able to raise his arm shield up to block another Zaku bazooka round, the explosion wrapping around the Gundam. The Zaku II J suddenly exploded, and the GM S maneuvered past the smoldering wreckage, 305mm bazooka in hand. "Thanks," Lagrama called out. "No problem," Obrien replied. Both mobile suits turned towards the heart of the mining operation where the remaining three guerilla mobile suits were trying to make their stand. The third mobile suit of the Federation forces, the GM, throttled forward, leading the charge. The Zaku II K lined up a shot with his 180mm shoulder cannon, firing the massive shell towards the GM. The Federation mobile suit easily dodged the shot, and the pilot laughed over the radio. The laughter was immediately cut short as the Gouf and the remaining Zaku II J both fired their weapons into the already damaged GM, two rockets from the Zaku and the Gouf's 75mm finger shells striking true against the mobile suit's torso. The GM violently exploded, the pilot killed instantly. Debris shot skywards. "You bastards!" Obrien yelled. Tossing his 305mm bazooka aside, he charged towards the rogue mobile suits, pulling his beam saber free. The enemy suits began firing on the charging GM S, but to Obrien, the incoming rounds seemingly slowed, and he easily dodged the fire. Within moments, he closed in to the enemy suits. The nearby Zaku II K backpedaled to dodge one of Lagrama's 305mm bazooka rounds, but it exposed the Zaku to Obrien's beam saber, and he cut down the rogue Zaku Cannon in a single, furious stroke. The resulting explosion knocked back Obrien's GM S, debris slamming against the suit. "Holy Christ," Massenfer screamed as his only Zaku II K exploded, sliced in two by the beefed-up GM. He and his last remaining mobile suit, the Zaku II J took steps back, both continuing to fire, sending rocket and machinegun fire into the GM, most of the rounds striking two. Massenfer's suit suddenly tumbled backwards as a 305mm bazooka round from the Gundam MPGT struck against his Gouf's torso. "Retreat!" he yelled. "What?" cursed the last remaining pilot on his command. The Zaku II J moved to cover Massenfer as he maneuvered back to his feet. "We can't take these guys," Massenfer yelled. "Fall back!" Obrien seethed as he watched the two remaining rogue mobile suits retreat from the mining operation into the Kalahari Desert. "Follow them?" Lagrama asked, maneuvering his Gundam next to the GM S. "No," Obrien said softly, turning to look at the raging fire enveloping the carcass of his subordinate's GM. "We got what we came for." Hector Lagrama: 10 VP, 2 Days Damaged, promoted to Private Tobias Obrien: 10 VP, 3 Days Damaged, promoted to Private 1st Class Ardan Massenfer: 8 VP gained, 3+1 Days Damaged The Medea droned northwards, over the Guatemala jungle below. Flying at a paltry two thousand feet, the crew of the Federation lift aircraft, Heidi, hoped to avoid Zeon air patrols. So far, so good. Crammed in the large cargo compartment was Emmanuel Salazar's GM Blue Destiny. The Medea's crew had kept a wary distance of the mobile suit - there was something just...wrong with it. Salazar didn't particularly care, and he had spent most of the flight from South Africa working on the Blue Destiny, making sure it was in tip-top shape. Over the endless miles of Central American jungle the Medea flew, unperturbed by its presence in Zeon territory. "This jungle is absolutely terrible," Jericho Thames cursed. Leader of the Black Tigers, Captain Thames and his mobile suit squad were on patrol deep within the jungles of Central America, and it had been a terrible assignment. The Black Tigers had established a makeshift camp near the Guatemalan city of Zacapa, and the mosquitoes and heat had a dreadful effect on the team's morale. It hadn't helped that they hadn't seen a Federation target in over three weeks. One of the four Zaku II-G mobile suits of the team bounded into the camp at full speed, its black paint job contrasting with the mosaic of green and brown jungle. The cockpit swung open as the Zaku came to a halt, and Private Glazzer poked his head out. "Boss, Federation aircraft spotted." "Holy fuck," one of the other pilots, Corporal James, whooped. "About bloody time." "Indeed," Thames replied. "What kind?" "A Medea craft, headed north. It's flying low," the private replied. "Sweet Jesus," the Black Tiger's commander whistled. "Lock and load, gents. Let's try to bring this sucker down. "This jungle environment does not change, does it," the Medea's pilot asked. "Nope," the navigator replied, studying both his computer console and a folding map. "It'll be like this for a few more hours." "So boring," the pilot said. Scanning the jungle below, the pilot suddenly noticed movement. "What the hell?" Below, the jungle exploded in missile and machinegun fire. The tree cover annihilated by the enemy fire, the pilot was able to briefly spot four moving Zakus, but not the models. Machinegun fire and a bazooka run quickly struck the Medea, sending its crew and Salazar bouncing around from the vibrations. "Jesus," the pilot cursed, bringing the Medea under control. Throttling to full speed, he rapidly pulled back on the joystick, sending the aircraft skyward, out of the range of enemy fire. "What the hell was that?" a voice called on the intercom. The pilot recognized it as that of Salazar. He punched the com button on his forward console. "Enemy ground fire, sir," the pilot answered. "I've moved Heidi to a higher altitude to avoid." "Will we make it to our target location on time?" "Affirmative, sir," the pilot replied. "Good," Salazar said. Emmanuel Salazar: 2 VP gained, no damage Andrew and Ahmed rode through the snow-covered wood, their rounds almost spent. It would be one of their last hunting expeditions together, although Andrew didn't know it yet. His fathers accident was but two weeks away, and soon he would leave the relative peace and quiet of the Vinsko estate forever, joining what was to become the chaos of the exploding world. The arab had a few things to teach him still however. The two had been hunting rabbits for some hours, and one of their kind had eluded them thus far. Rounds for their single barelled shotguns weren't scarce, but they hadn't brought very many, and if they were forced to return to the estate to pick up more, their quarry would get away. "I do believe I've come to enjoy our time together" Vinsko said, speaking to the arab in a thick German. He had become well versed in several languages over his trip, although Ahmed knew more still. "I am glad to hear it young master, but quiet now... This is a good spot." The two came to a small gap in the wood, a clearing on the far side. Their quarry, a magnificent white eared hare the size of a small cat, could be seen just barely huddling in the brush at the end of the thicket. The two had to move their horses carefully, the large beasts not bred to handle thick underbrush such as a scandinavian forest. Vinsko saw the hare and lined up a shot, exhaling softly as he was about to pull the trigger. Ahmed put his hand on the guns barrel, stopping Andrew prematurely. "Not just yet, young master. I will teach you something I think." The Arab said, looking up at the sky for a moment. "Oh? Whatever could it be this time, old friend." Andrew smiled, shifting to English. The entire staff of the estate had gotten him switching between languages repeatedly, a habit that would leave him as he joined the war. Too many Earthnoid languages could make one attract black uniforms more than they would like. "I am going to show you how to catch your prey without firing a single bullet." smirked the arab. Andrew was suspicious, but put down his arms. Not once had he seen Ahmed make a claim and then refuse to deliver. Eyeing the sky once more, Ahmed sat up tall on his mount, slapping the reigns forward. The horse started galloping out of the wood straight at the hare, which bolted for the open plain. And as soon as it did, Alix shot out of the sky, the beautiful red and brown of her feathers seeming like a lightning bolt plucking the Hare straight off its feet. Andrew smiled, clapping as if he had just seen a show. Ahmed smirked, taking off his fur laden winter hat in a mock bow. "If your quarry is exceptionally good at running, then sometimes it pays to let them run, so long as you know where they are going to go." Ahmed said. It took this one a little while for Andrew to sink in, as he couldn't see how this bit of wisdom had many implications other than hunting. Later in life, Andrew would realize how many implications the process of hunting brought in general. The Chaos Theory Fleet, having freshly acquired two new Medea transport craft from Malta, soared towards the North American continent. Revil had asked for any unengaged divisions to assist the Pegasus class battleship White Base in its breaking through of enemy territory in Seattle, and Daren Sanders and company had answered the call. The five carriers of the fleet were sparsely defended, but also had few mobile suits between them, each Medea having half its hangar space empty on average. They had been flying nonstop for four hours now, and hadn't run into any enemies. Even still, all their fighters were deployed, 3 Jet Core Boosters, a Dish and a Depp Rog flitting in and out from between the monstrous forms of the carrier jets. "We aren't set to engage enemy patrols for another two hours sir, are you sure it's wise to weary the men like this?" The captain of the Sunny Disposition asked. She was a young woman, her first command, while Sanders had been very involved in the European front for some time. He knew firsthand what a lax defense could do to a weak target. Sanders didn't really need to respond to the question, as his Dish pilot, an ace spotter from the Meditterranean front, answered for him. "Sir, I'm picking up a huge cluster of bogeys behind us, coming in fast." Daren was quick to respond, he'd heard some reports about Gaw attack craft leaving Europe recently. "Spread minovski particles to battle density. Is it just one Gaw?" he ordered, looking at the visual feed that was coming in quickly from the Dish's instruments. "Looks like it. They have a lot of escorts though..." the pilot responded, his visual feed quickly breaking up as the air became clouded with the invisible sensor jamming particles. "Five, eight, ten... I'm counting fourteen fighters sir. They should overtake us in about five minutes." Daren felt a knot form in his stomache immediately. Fourteen Dopps? There was no way they would last against that. Without an escort wing of Tin Cods, something their fleet simply did not have, they were doomed. Daren had to think fast. "We passed a Himalaya a few miles back moving South, can we still reach them?" He asked to the communications officer at the helm. Medeas standardly had three bridge crewmen. A captain, a pilot, and a communications officer. "I can't get you a two way communications sir, minovski density is too thick. I think if we piggyback off the other ships I can punch a one way message through to them." the response wasn't what Daren wanted. He'd told them to spread particles too soon. A lesson learned for later perhaps, if there was a later. "Alright, that'll have to do. Those Dopps will take out our engines and push us into firing range of that Gaws cannons if we don't get out of here immediately, so we'll have to drop cargo. I guess this means North America is out of the question. We drop the mobile suits and send a distress call to that Himalaya to pick them up. There was a storm coming up ahead at west northwest correct?" The CO nodded, frantically typing away at his console. "Plot a course for that storm, if we're fast enough we might be able to minimize ship casualties." Right around that time, a voice came through the commlink, the face of Dino Fiddler appearing on one of the viewscreens. "Can you tell the Luck to open the damn hatch? I want to get a few shots off before they get here." Fiddler had been waiting for something to happen, sitting crouched in the GM Sniper II, sniper rifle at the ready. The Dopp formation sailed in, pilots trying to pick beads on the Medeas in the black night sky. Digital imaging enhanced their silhouettes a bit, but it wasn't good for very much, especially when they had to fire their missiles without any tracking systems. Still, soon they would be on top of the enemy formation, and then firing at the Medeas would be a piece of cake. The Raven soared behind them, attempting to match the speed of the Medeas, but unable to do so. It was the Dopps job to slow them down long enough to put them in range of the Gaws heavy mega particle cannons. Out of absolutely nowhere the lead fighter in the formation suddenly exploded, sending the rest of the fighters veering right and left in a scramble. Fiddler fired a second shot, but by now the fast attack planes were strafing frantically. He knew he wouldn't be able to get another hit at extreme range in these conditions. "Can somebody get me a beam rifle." he said quietly, musing to himself. On board the other transports, cargo was being dumped into the ocean as fast as it possibly could. GM pilots quickly threw life vests into their mobile suits and put on normal suits, happy that the cockpits of their space friendly vessels were airtight. Ion Bossa-Nova was somewhat less fortunate, his GM Ground not only less than airtight, but extremely heavy. He and his mobile suit would stay inside the White Bishop until the last possible moment. Cameron let off a round as his GM Cannon fell to the water, but it did no good, the swirling depths of the ocean soon surrounding him. A tracking bouey was launched from the Black Rook to mark his position as he sank into the water, with only about a days air keeping him from death. The black of the night ocean swirled around him and matched the general mood, the pilots of both the mobile suits and the Medeas having no idea what lay in store for them tomorrow. The fighter pilots in the escort wing had the worst luck of the lot, but they would fight valiently, as was their duty. The five fighter-bombers swerved around, the Depp Rog tracking as best it could, launching one and then a second volley of its long range missiles. A single orange ball of fire was seen off in the distance, a cheer going up amongst the pilots. However, seconds later an absolute storm of smaller missiles came straight at them, damaging the Depp Rog and destroying two of the three Jet Core Boosters instantly. The resulting dogfight didn't really deserve its name. The Depp Rog went down quickly, already damaged, a pair of Dopps sending more of their missiles into its hull. The Dish, its pilot easily qualified to man a high output mobile suit, broke free of one Dopps grasp with a high G force spin, landing several 25mm rounds into a second as it passed by. However, one good pilot against a dozen faster aircraft isn't much of a fight, and within seconds the Dish was destroyed as well. The Jet Core Booster, through some mishap or just sheer luck, was the last to go down, but it was destroyed eventually as well. Having only lost a few seconds against their prey, the Zeonic fighters went back on course, heading for the Medeas and lining up their shots. Fiddler picked that moment to launch out of the Lady Luck, the GM Sniper II a breath of fresh air in the hostile night sky. Instead of simply dropping into the ocean he boosted his mobile suit as high as he could, firing repeated rounds at the enemy formation, his beam rifle doing its best to light up the darkness. Round after round whizzed passed the Dopps, Dino knowing he wouldn't get another jump to stop them. A single fighter exploded, then a second, but the majority of the rounds hit nothing but the ocean beneath, Fiddler not quite experienced enough to wage a mid air battle with enemy fighters. A few missiles impacted against the GM Sniper II's hull, but not enough to cause as much damage as the ocean would do, the high priced GM slamming into the waves with enough force to almost knock Fiddler unconscious. Will Barton jumped shortly after, the last mobile suit to leave its perch that night. Equipped with its huge paradrop booster, the GMPGT soared through the sky, smoke trailing from the two massive engines that kept it aloft. The Dopps swerved around it, heading for the Medeas, but Barton didn't turn his mobile suit around, he had another target. Firing round after round into the Raven, he managed to destroy one of its MPCs and one of its many engines, even picking up some hull damage before the AA turrets found him, severely damaging his mobile suit and shredding the parachute over his head. Barton too, after a brief flight, fell into the water. Ion fired wildly with his 100mm machinegun, able to score a pair of kills as the Dopps came in quickly from behind the Medea formation. A barrage of missile fire responded in kind, destroying all four engines on the White Bishop, which quickly started falling out of the sky, slamming into the ocean floor. Luckily, Medea class aircraft are designed to float in a relatively calm sea, which the Atlantic was on this night, and with other targets in sight and a careful rescue operation the crew of the White Bishop may well fly again. The rest of the planes were not so unlucky. Fighter after fighter poured shells into their wings, the jets now having no air support and no gunners experienced enough to hit a Dopp in the night sky. Even so, Daren refused to move to his mobile suit, the storm was just ahead... And what was that coming out of it... "It's okay to let your quarry run, as long as you know where they are running." Andrew laughed to himself softly. He didn't really like war. The scars on his chest reminded him of that. He'd changed, almost altogether for the worse, and part of him really felt bad for the lives he was about to destroy. But at this moment in the atlantic, he remembered a great deal. He found himself wishing his cockpit was open, perhaps he would feel the spray of saltwater against his face, it might almost be as good as a hot desert night camped at an oasis, or a foxhunt in the Helsinki woods. The Griffin burst out of the clouds of the storm, Vinsko and Chai ahead of it, their Desert Zakus mounted atop the "flying carpet" Dodai II's. Sanders fleet didn't even have time to dodge, the Gaws MPC turrets were already locked on. Particle blasts soared through the night, the Condor and Black Rook exploding instantly. "Jesus christ dive! Get us out of their path!" yelled Daren, worried that his Medea would accidentally ram the Gaw assault carrier. The two Zakus screeched in behind them as the Lady Luck swerved, trying to find some path between the two Gaws pincering its only escape route. The Raven finally caught up behind it, MPCs flaring and making it explode instantly. Chai and Vinsko's bazooka shells found the Sunny Disposition shortly after, tearing the ship to shreds just as Sanders managed to find himself a life jacket. Luckily enough for the Federation, the Dhaulagiri, on its weekly patrol from Gibraltar, did in fact recieve the distress signal, and while many a good soldier had lost their lives in the Atlantic sky, none lost them that night to the Atlantic ocean. Andrew Vinsko: 7 VP gained, no damage, promoted to Sergeant Daren Sanders: 6 VP gained, 4 days injured Cameron Sune: 5 VP gained, 3 days injured Ion Bossa-Nova: 5 VP gained, 3 days injured Will Barton: 6 VP gained, 4 days damage 3 days injured Dino Fiddler: 6 VP gained, 2 days injured |