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The two Doms and the Zaku II-K traveled at a leisurely pace through the southern Algerian desert, following along an old highway that ran east-west through the sand dunes. Ross Howe sat comfortable in the cockpit of his Dom, happy that the mobile suit had an air conditioning system rigged into it. "And she says," Aleksei Rachmaninov, the pilot of the Zaku II-K, said, "It won’t fit!" He burst into laughter. Ross and the leader of the mobile suit squad, Vincent Gordon, both replied with low-key chuckles. The trio of suits trudged onward and westward, looking for Federation mobile suits. The back of Ross's head began tingling, and he slowed his Dom, turning to look to the north. "Wait up, LT," Ross started on the com. The other two suits stopped. "What is it? Feddies?" Gordon asked, a nervous tone in his voice. "Not sure," Ross replied cautiously. He pointed with his Dom northwards. "But I think what we're looking for is to the north." "Why?" Rachmaninov asked impatiently. "Look, LT, we've got a schedule to keep." "Yeah, I know," Gordon answered. "Let's get going Howe." The tingling sensation in the back of Ross's increased. He was sure that there were Federation units to the north. "LT, we should go north," Ross said with more authority. There was silence on the com channel. "There wasn't anything in the morning Intel packet about Federation soldiers along that part of the coastline," Gordon said quietly. "Trust me," Howe said, sure of himself now, the tingling sensation lessening. "Trust me." The GM and the GM Ground Sniper walked on either side of the coastal highway, a Type 74 Hover Truck in between the two Federation mobile suits. The Federation mobile suit squad was moving westward, with the Mediterranean to the north and the Algerian desert to the south. Ion Bossa-Nova, brushing back a strand of blonde hair, sat quietly in her Ground Sniper. She was glad she was getting out of the desert. A green light lit up on her com board, and Ion reached and tapped it. "This is Ion," she said. "This is Fredericks," the rough male voice replied. Fredericks was the sonor operator in the Type 74. "Yeah?" Ion asked. "We should stop and deploy the truck's sonar. It's been an hour." Ion scratched her chin. "Do it. Daniels," Ion said to the pilot of the GM, "Let's hold up." The group stopped. "Glad to be getting out of the desert, ma'am?" Daniels asked idly. "Am I ever," she said, chuckling. "Deploying sonar," Fredericks announced to the small crew of the Type 74. The cramped space of the truck meant that Fredericks and the other three men that crewed the vehicle knew each other well. Fredericks leaned back in his chair as the sonor piton plowed into the soft dirt of the highway embankment. "Sonar online," Fredericks said. He leaned forward to look at his screen. After several seconds, a blip showed up, and the blip was very close. "Oh shit," he said. He tapped the com board. "Ma'am, we've got a contact to the south, close and incoming." Rachmaninov reached the top of the sand dune which overlooked the coastal highway that ran from western Morocco to the Sinai. He scanned left and right. "Holy crap," he yelled as he yanked his suit forward as a shot from a beam sniper rifle clipped the arm of his Zaku Cannon. Five hundred feet to the west, a GM Ground Sniper kneeled, its beam rifle ready. The Zaku tumbled down the dune and crashed onto the pavement of the highway. "Feddies!" Rachmaninov screamed. That sonofabitch was right, he thought. How the hell did he know? Ion carefully aimed for her second shot when Daniels cried out in fear. Turning her head cam to towards the desert, she suddenly spotted the apparently lone Zaku Cannon's companions: a pair of Doms. The Doms skated down the southern sand dunes, both equipped with 360mm bazookas. Ion surged her mobile suit to its feet. Daniels began opening up on the rapidly approaching Doms with his 100mm machinegun. "Shit," Ion replied. "Daniels, fall back to the truck, I’ll hold these bastards off." "Roger," Daniels answered, maneuvering his suit westwards. Ross and Gordon skated to flank the Ground Sniper. The Sniper tossed aside its beam sniper rifle and grabbed a grenade off of its belt, tossing it towards Ross. Ross tried to maneuver away, but the grenade exploded, damaging one of his legs. "Shit," Ross gritted. Both Doms opened up with their bazooka, reigning shells upon the Sniper. One of Ross’s rockets impacted against the Sniper’s torso, while one of Gordon’s rockets smashed into the right shoulder. "LT, look out," Ross yelled, as the GM that had initially fled suddenly returned, blazing away with its machinegun. More bullets smacked against Ross’s Dom. The Sniper, not quite out of the fight, lifted another grenade off its belt. "No longer worth it, goddamnit," Gordon order. "Fall back!" "Shit," Ross said. He immediately began skating away from the two GMs. Ion watched as the Doms skated back towards the fallen Zaku II-K. "What the hell are they doing," she wondered aloud. "Ma'am," Daniels replied, stepping in front of the damaged Ground Sniper. "Let's not ask questions, just let them do as they please." "Good idea. Let's get out of this desert," Ion said. Outcome: Draw Ross Howe: 7 VP gained, 2 Days Damaged Ion Bossa-Nova: 7 VP gained, 3 Days Damaged |