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The radar operator on the Dish leaned back in his chair and flipped the next page of his Playboy. He whistled aloud. "What?" the com officer asked, turning around from his computer terminal. The radar operated lifted the magazine up over his shoulder so the over man could see the beautiful blonde centerfold. The com officer snickered. "Hot," he said. "Yeah," the radar operator sighed. He placed the magazine back on his lap. "I hate the desert." "Me too," the com officer replied. A red button began flashing on the radar operator's terminal. "Shit," he said. He turned to the com officer. "Dial up the base." "You sure?" Virgil Hilts asked. Hilts and the rest of the crew of his air squadron were gathered around a terminal inside RF-1's main bunker. "We've checked and confirmed twice, Sergeant," the com officer of the Dish replied. "Two Doms and two Zakus. They're heading straight for the mining operation, sir, from a northeasterly direction." "Alright," Hilts said. "Return to the mine. We'll take things over from here." "Acknowledged," the com operator answered and the com line went deep. Hilts turned to face the soldiers under his command. "Let's light the fires and kick the tires," he said with a grin. "We'll cover things from the air. Mr. Salazar?" "Yeah?" Emmanuel Salazar replied. "We'll funnel the Zeek suits into a dip in the dunes, pin them in from the air, and you'll finish them off. Sounds good to you?" Salazar smiled. The pair of Doms and the Zaku II D skated across the Saharan desert, kicking up a dust cloud behind them, concealing the slower moving Zaku Cannon. "You guys should be glad that this Zaku has an air filtration system," Aleksei Rachmaninov announced over the com channel the mobile suit squad was utilizing. Ross Howe chuckled. "We're almost to the mining operation, Aleksei." Rachmaninov grumbled. "Quiet," the other Dom pilot, Lieutenant Vincent Gordon ordered. "Yessir," Rachmaninov replied sarcastically. Howe, comfortable in his climate controlled cockpit, smiled. The suits continued on for another twenty minutes: up one sand dune, down the far side of the dune, and repeat. It was boring out in the Saharan. Howe was in the middle of stiffling a yawn when the tingling sensation in the back of his head suddenly returned. On sudden impluse, he glanced upwards, towards the western, cloudless sky. That's when he spotted the contrails. "Oh shit," he let out. "What?" Gordon asked, his voice tinged with concern. "Aircraft," Howe replied, bringing his Dom to a halt. He pointed westward. "Listen up," Hilts ordered. His Fly Manta was in the lead, followed by the air squadron's Tin Cod. Flying at nearly 5,000 feet, the pair of aircraft streaked eastwards. The Depp Rog, another 5,000 feet skywards, had already spotted the trio of Zeon mobile suits. "Stay frosty, keep your eyes peeled, and let's get this down right." "Roger," replied the Tin Cod pilot. "Acknowledged," the pilot of the Depp Rogg said. "Gotcha," Salazar said. Hilts dived downwards and leveled off at a thousand feet. The Tin Cod followed suit, and the aircraft rapidly approached the enemy's position. Suddenly, a Dom skated to the top of a dune, just over a quarter of a mile ahead, and two hundred feet to Hilt's left, the suit's massive 360mm bazooka slung on its shoulder, aimed at the aircraft. "Contact," Hilts shouted over the radio, and he swung his Fly Manta into a sharp right turn. The Dom fired a round, which streaked towards the Tin Cod, who desperately tried to maneuver away. Turning upwards and to the left, the Tin Cod released chaff, hoping to distract the incoming round. Taking the bait, the bazooka round impacted harmlessly against a piece of chaff. Both fighters sped away from the Dom. Safely at altitude, Hilts dived downward at the Dom and released a volley from its fixed missile launcher. The Dom skated out of the way as the missiles peppered the dune. Maneuvering, the Dom readied another shot and fired skyward, forcing Hilts to juke his Fly Manata and release his own chaff. "Where the hell are you, Salazar?" Hilts asked angrily over his radio. Howe skated quickly across the dune filled ground and looked skyward, searching for a target. The Tin Cod dived downwards towards his Dom and fired its 25mm cannons. The rounds peppered the ground, and several struck against his suit's armor. He effortlessly skated to the side and fired a third round from his 360mm bazooka. The round streaked towards the Tin Cod. The pilot easily dodged Howe's round again. The Federation pilot's success was short lived as Gordon entered the fray, his Dom skating in from the east in a pincer movement. Similarly armed, Gordon's own 360mm bazooka round struck the Tin Cod and the fighter exploded into dazzling pieces across the Saharan Desert. "Good shot, sir," Howe said, and he turned his attention to the Fly Manta. This craft had gained altitude and began circling the two Zeon pilots. "We're not going to be able to knock it out of the sky," Gordon announced. "I think I agree," Howe began. The tingling sensation suddenly flared up again, leaving Howe with the strung urge to juke his Dom to his right. Salazar opened up at the back of the Dom with his 100mm machinegun, only to see the Zeek suddenly dodge to the right. Salazar swung his machinegun to the right, tracking the Dom. His rounds uselessly peppered desert sand as the Dom easily dodged his rounds. The other Dom began maneuvering as well and opened up on the Blue Destiny with its massive bazooka. Salazar glanced the first round off its arm shield. He hit the boost and the suit jumped upwards, sailing towards the second Dom. He hit the top of a dune and throttled the Blue Destiny to full speed as he ran down the dune. He emptied the rest of his machinegun's clip into the Dom, the bullets penetrating the Zeek's armor. Salazar had rapidly closed the distance between the two suits. Throwing aside the machinegun, he pulled out the right beam saber of the Blue Destiny. The Dom, skated to the left and fired another round which struck squarely the Blue Destiny's arm shield. Boosting once more, Salazar jumped forward and slashed downwards at the Dom. The Zeek jerked aside, barely missing Sazalar's saber. In the sky above, Hilts, relieved to have Salazar in the battle to distract one of the Doms, turned his attention to the other. He swung his Fly Manata wide and roared into the battle at low altitude, heading straight for the unengaged Dom. He released a second volley from his fixed missile tubes, and two managed to strike against the Dom's upper torso. Seemingly unperturbed by the damage, the Dom raised its bazooka and fired another round, causing Hilts to jerk his fighter away from the Dom and desperately release chaff behind him. "We're not winning this thing," Hilts grunted as he gained altitude in preparation for another run. "Damnit," Howe cursed after the two Fly Manta rounds struck his suit. Looking southwards, he briefly watched as Gordon dodged another saber thrust by the blue GM. "Finally," Rachmaninov announced, "I've reached the action." The Zaku II-K appeared on the top of a dune nearly five hundred feet to the east. "Aleksei," Howe ordered, "Help out the LT." "Got it," Rachmaninov replied. He brought up the targeting suite of his onboard computer and began aiming the large 180mm shoulder cannon. After several seconds, he secured a lock and opened up on the blue-colored GM. The Blue Destiny rocked forwards under the direct hit of a massive projectile. The round had hit against the back of the suit's right shoulder, and inside the cockpit, Salazar screamed as shrapnel from the round had penetrated the interior of the cockpit. A massive piece of jagged lunar titanium had embedded within his upper arm, severely damaging the muscles within. Salazar could barely flex his fingers. At that time, a girlish voice announced within his mind. The voice was angry and filled with hate. It hurts... You're going to kill me...the voice continued. "What the hell," Salazar mumbled, the pain excruciating. Gordon stopped maneuvering away from the blue-hued GM after Rachmaninov's shot had struck it. The suit wasn't moving, yet was still standing. "What the hell?" he asked. Suddenly, the eye's of the suit glowed brilliant red. Gordon took a step back. Piercing agony filled his mind. Kill me. A girl's voice cried out within Gordon's mind. The blue GM suddenly throttled to full speed and slammed its beam saber clear through Gordon's Dom; Gordon barely even registered the movement. "Jesus!" Howe yelled. He turned to face the Federation suit and fired away another round from his bazooka. The enemy suit jerked free the beam saber, letting Gordon's Dom fall to the ground and violently explode. Howe's round sailed past the enemy, as the Blue Destiny looked up, downing the Desert Zaku with an expertly accurate barrage from its machinegun. The GM charged Howe, saber at the ready. I want to die... A young girl's voice screamed within Howe's mind. He felt every bit of the psychic assault. The GM closed the distance, only to be struck by another round from the Zaku Cannon. The round knocked the enemy suit aside. Howe, taking a chance, dropped his bazooka to his side and pulled out his heat saber and skated towards the off-balanced blue GM. He slashed downwards, only to have the saber blocked by the surviving remnants of the arm shield. The GM faced him, the red eyes glaring at him. Kill me. The voice returned, anger and fury in its tone. Shocked, Howe tried to maneuver backwards. The GM's beam saber sliced upwards, cutting off the Dom's left arm at the elbow. "Shit," Howe screamed. "Rachmaniov!" Hilts screamed over the duel between the damaged Blue Destiny and the remaining Dom, heading straight for the Zaku Cannon. Smiling, Hilts unleashed the anti-surface bomb attached to his Fly Manta's lone hard point. "Eat it," he yelled in delight. At the last moment, the Zaku Cannon looked up at the rapidly approaching bomb. In panic, he tried to fire at the incoming weapon, only to have his 180mm shell miss terribly high. The bomb impacted against the chest of the Zaku, instantly vaporizing the Zeon mobile suit in fiery death. "Let's begin our run on that Zaku Cannon," the pilot of the Depp Rogg said casually. "Yes, let's," his co-pilot agreed. The Depp Rogg had descended to only 5,000 ft for its run, heading at a steady pace towards the distracted Zaku. Before the pilots' eyes, the Cannon exploded in glorious flames and the squadron's leader, Virgil Hilts, streaked past the explosion in his Fly Manta. "Well, I say," the pilot said. "Rather jolly shot." "What the-" the co-pilot began, pointing at a rapidly approaching black dot. "Oh shit, incoming rou-" the pilot began as the Zaku Cannon's last round impacted against the under belly of the Depp Rogg, igniting the bomber into a gargantuan fireball. Howe, down an arm and his bazooka, opened up on the blue GM with his scattering beam gun, hoping to blind the enemy pilot. The GM was apparently unimpressed. Please! The girl psychically screamed. Howe winched in pain as the GM's beam saber cleanly sliced through the Dom's other arm. Howe's head was spinning, each word from the girl causing his head to flare in pain. Kill me! "Shit, shit, shit," Howe yelled as he desperately started to maneuver away from the GM. "Fuck you bitch," Howe replied to the voice, fear on his tongue. The GM suddenly halted and the head twisted skywards. Howe took a quick look up and noticed the Fly Manta circling ahead. Without warning, two missiles streaked up from the chest of the GM, something that Howe thought GM's didn't have, towards the Fly Manta. Momentarily distracted, for reasons Howe could not comprehend, he skated northwards at full speed, escaping the carnage of the Saharan battle field. Warning alarms screamed in Hilts' cockpit as the two missiles streaked towards him. "What the fuck," Hilts yelled in anger. A feminine voice appeared in his head. This hurts... Panicking, Hilts threw his Fly Manta into a step dive, trying desperately to avoid the missiles. He released the last of his chaff and hoped for the best. He jerked his plane from side to side. One of the missiles exploded harmlessly behind him, while the second still followed. Hilts desperately tried to escape the missile, but it was faster, impacting his right wing and exploding furiously. "Shit," Hilts screamed, barely maintaining control of his aircraft. Hilts gritted his teeth as he maintained some altitude, heading east, desperately hoping that another missile or another Zeek or another anything was not following him. Salazar sat in agony, pinned by the large shrapnel piece in his arm. He could only watch in horror as the Blue Destiny shot at his fellow soldier. Now the suit marched back towards RF-1. Salazar had lost complete control. The suit did not respond to any of its commands. Twenty minutes of agony later, the Blue Destiny arrived at the edge of RF-1. For a few moments, the suit stood there, looking over the base. The Federation personnel tentatively began approaching it. On the far side sat the parked Dish, its crew lounging quietly around it. "Oh no," Salazar began. Stop me... The mobile suit stood still, unleashing the firepower of the 60mm vulcan cannons mounted in the head unit of the Blue Destiny. The rounds peppered the Dish and within seconds the plane was engulfed in flames. Below, the mine's personnel fled in panic. The voice of the girl echoed loudly in Salazar's head, and finally, after nearly twenty-five minutes of agony, he subsided into the deep depths of unconsciousness. When he would finally come to, the Blue Destiny would be alone, the entire mine in flames. Virgil Hilts: 10/2 VP gained, 4 Days Damaged Emmanuel Salazar: 5/2 VP gained, 2 Days Damaged, 4 Days Injuired Marion: 5 VP gained Ross Howe: 8 VP gained, 4 Days Damaged RF-1: Destroyed "Umbrella Flight is away," the announcement came from the Communications Officer to the right of Captain Melendez announced, the six Saberfish beginning their long loop around the target ship, the Admiral Hipper. The rest of the crew of the Swordfish nervously moved about in their heavy environmental suits, a mixture of anticipation and fear showing in their actions and faces. Only Nolan Harkin, recently picked up along with his damaged Light Armor GM, was calm, his right and only eye staring at the targetting screen as he slouched in the gunner's chair of the MPC he controlled. Outside, Cherish Woods paced the Fuji ship, a variation of the Salamis. Gun placements had been changed allowing for a full frontal barrage, and a hangar placed behind the bridge. The Federal Saberfish pilot gripped her controls as she stared ahead at the flashing light that was the Zeon Tivvay that hit the Blex fleet only a day before. The Zeon had been allowed to do too much in this war without consequences, she aimed to change that. Two GMs, E types from Luna II, followed to either side and slightly behind. Both female pilots were green as they come, but Cherish definately felt they had their... benefits. "Let's see how these Zeon like when they can't trick anybody.." she spoke within her own helmet. A countdown flashed all zero, and six additional Saberfish shot foward, leading the charge into battle. A lone Zaku II E floated outside of the Admiral Hipper, it's solitary eye scanning the black expanse. The rest of the crew was still high in spirit after the successful raid from the previous day, but the Zaku pilot did not feel much like celebrating. He had lost two brothers early in the war, and no matter how many Federals died, they weren't coming back. Spotting an abnormality, the Zaku aimed it's camera in an area below the Tivvay. As the infrared and zoomed images resolved themselves, he openned a line of communication with the bridge. "We've got what looks like a Salamis ship and some Saberfish coming at us.." General quarters sounded on the ship, and the crew made their way to their combat posts. The nervous energy of a green crew was gone, replaced by the calm of a business routine bred by combat experience. Anton Vereschagin arrived at the bridge, snapping his collar closed as he floated toward the Captain's chair. His Rick Dom was far to heavily damaged to merit it's launch into combat, but he did not enjoy doing nothing while his ship and crew were endangered, either. "Situation report," he stated. "Sir, we have six Saberfish attempting to flank, six more moving directly at us, and a modified Salamis behind those." one of the bridge crew reported, one hand holding a headset to his ear. "Launch our mobile suits. Let's hit them before they get close enough to do us harm." In the hangar bay, three mechanics held back Darius Carver, explaining to him in vain that his Rick Dom could not launch from a cold shut down in time to help. John Church, however, understood the man's need to be out with his comrade's fighting. Foot still missing, his black Zaku II High Mobility Type R1 launched from one of the two launch catapults, seven F types following after. "Alright boys, five of you are going to intercept the flanking force. The rest of you are with me, we're on point defense." With a kick, his Zaku shot ahead, followed by the two nearest F type Zakus, rushing to meet the oncoming Saberfish. Raising his 120 mm machinegun, John let loose with a short burst, forcing the Saberfish formation to split. "Watch those MPCs!" Anton reminded from the bridge as the Tivvay manuvered to bring it's powerful guns to bear on the Swordfish. At least one continued to target Church and his Zakus rather than fire at the Tivvay. Inside her fighter, well behind the attack force on point defense for the Swordfish, Cherish watched with anxiety. Saberfish were outdated against Zaku Is used early in the war, and against the replacement, Zaku IIs, fared even worse. Four were already down in the attack wing by the time they reach maximum effective range for their missiles. Only two of the 24 rockets that were launched even made contact with the Zeon ship, causing her to smash her fist into the side of her cockpit with a curse. The two remaining Saberfish broke for where the second flight would be able to cover their retreat, but five angry monoeyes were all that greeted them. Church and his two Zaku IIs continued toward the Federal ship, though only one having equipped a bazooka could fire at his range. A glancing shot on the bow shook the ship, followed by the explosion of one of the F type Zakus and a cry of exaltation from back near the gunnery station Harkin was stationed at, followed by a flurry of curses directed at the Zeon he had destroyed and the rest in general. "Recall our remaining forces, we're withdrawing," the elderly captain stated. Launching several flares to obscure view of the Swordfish as it collected Cherish's Saberfish and it's two GM Es and reversed course back toward Federal lines. "Federal ship has given up the chase, Sublieutenant Vereschagin." "Good. Retrieve our forces and continue to rendevous with the Dren fleet." the MAF officer stated as he moved to float out of the bridge, the thought of losing yet another Zaku and it's pilot making him a little sick to his stomach. Admiral Hipper: Lightly damaged Swordfish: Lightly damaged Anton Vereschagin: 6/2 VP gained, no damage Cherish Woods: 6 VP gained, No damage John Church: 8/2 VP gained, Repairs stalled, previous 1 day of damage remains, promoted to sublieutenant |