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The rising desert sun was something Des Milles enjoyed to see no matter how many times he had seen it. Even though he knew another battle for African Union was about to begin. "Pretty isn't it," said Des as he pulled out a small camera he still carried in his backpack taking of the scenery. It was then he realized he had not taken many photos of the platoon ever, and swiveled his camera over to Jocelyn. However as he found his focus on her, the look on her face gave Des the idea that maybe she didn't want to be photographed. Rather then press the issue Des simply put down his camera as he muttered to himself for a bit. High above the platoon in the still dim light of the morning a small Luggun flew alone in the dimly light sky. Its pilot glared out the window of the aircraft pitching it over at the higher altitude, turning around slightly. "Yeah I checked the records, three times. I promise its not the supply convoy coming," said the Luggun pilot into his radio talking to someone in the RF-2 mining facility below. "Alright, I got it, we will stay here," said the pilot with a frustrated look on his face looking at the rising sun for a moment. A muttered voice is heard over the radio. "Three mobile suits and two other vehicles, they look like Zakus but they aren't coded properly," continued the pilot as if he had been taxed heavily by this job. After what seemed like several seconds listening to something the pilot ripped off his headset and turned to pilot in the Luggun. "I should have been a Dopp pilot," said the pilot with frustration. "Holy crap, stop," said Marcelino mid step as he put his hand touching Elden's chest. Elden looked at the hand on his chest with some annoyance wondering what his strange teammate was doing now. "Please don't touch me," said Elden as brushed the hand of Marcelino off his chest. With out saying a word Marcelino pulled out his flare and fired it straight into the air. While Elden stood in complete shock. "What the hell are you doing?" screamed Elden as he stared at the flare streaking into the air as he grabbed Marcelino by the scruff of his neck. "Did you see that?" said Aisha Vumeino as she looked out the cockpit of her GM Ground Type seeing a single flare fire up to her east. "We haven't even fired the Type 50 yet though," said one of the recently recruited Zaku II C pilots staring at the flare. "Well they must have found us, split up, they are spreading out to get us," said Aisha trying to encourage the other pilots as well as herself. "We just have to do like we planned." Inside a hanger at RF-2 the two Gunship Helis began to warm up their rotors as the sun was beginning to peak over the edge of the dunes surrounding the mine. As the first one slid out of the hanger though, a large explosion rocked the hanger sending it crashing down on the other helicopter resulting in a massive explosion. The flames whirled up around the cockpit of the escaping helicopter, however out of the fireball rolled the helicopter heading off into the distance towards the way its Zaku friends had traveled not long ago. "That's the sign, lets go" yelled Des with encouragement as he heard the resounding explosion through out the desert. The troopers of alpha platoon ran quickly up the side of the final dune before the base. Reaching the top they saw several men running about around the airfield in front of them. Knowing the position offered little cover everyone but Ozie and Long streaked down the hill. Both Ozie and Long dropped to a prone position and began to Dragunov SVD's at the zeon marines running in a scattered manner about the airfield below. "One," said Ozie after pulling the trigger for the first time on his rifle sending one Zeon soldier crashing to the sand floor missing his head. Long took his time picking his target before firing, shooting a tank around which a few Zeon soldiers were congregating, causing it to explode. "Three," said Long with a smile turned to find other targets. Des continued with his men down the hill, until they hit a small unmanned outpost. Suddenly the Zeon soldiers seemed to be much more organized and a squad began to make its way to the ground behind the cover of a Weasel. Several machine gun rounds pinged around alpha platoon as they dove for cover around the small outpost. "They really don't respect us," muttered Des as he turned around a corner of the outpost letting loose with a RPG-2 that was on his back. The round spiraled into the side of the Weasel causing it to explode suddenly. However, the victory was short lived as a massive barrage of AA fire suddenly streaked out from the mine causing all the guerillas to hit the deck. It was odd being alone all suddenly as Aisha made her way in the desert towards the area she expect for the Zaku from RF-2 to arrive from, however she didn't have to wait long as suddenly a streak of 120 mm machine gun fire streaked past her GM from the dune to her left. "Time to go," said Aisha as she shoved the controls of her GM forward sending it running at full speed across the desert sand. The 120 mm fire however quickly caught her in the left arm of her GM sending it jolting forward to the sand floor. In a panic Aisha sat up with her GM towards the oncoming Zaku II that was looking to finish its attack. However, it was met by Aisha's right arm unloading the full magazine of its 100mm machine gun into the Zaku. The Zaku shuttered and swayed from the onslaught of rounds, creaking and groaning. However, it still stood in total shock Aisha dropped her machine gun quickly gripping a grenade that was tossed with haste towards the Zaku that was shuttering as it pulled out its heat hawk. The grenade exploded in a flash sending a blast of Zaku parts flying against the side of the GM knocking it again over onto the sand. Suddenly, overhead a Gunship Heli screamed past her position as the GM laid motionless on the desert floor. Seeming to ignore her entirely it headed to where she came. "Oh no, oh no," muttered Aisha as she stood up as quickly as possible making her way back towards the location she had left the African Unions new Type 60 and 50. A few moments later she crested the hill of the last dune to see the wreckage of the Type 50 and 60 scattered about on the desert floor with a lone Zaku II J standing over their remains as a Gunship Heli flew into the distance. The mono eye of the Zaku quickly whipped in her direct, Aisha knew instantly she had been caught and dove back behind the dune. In a panic she fumbled with the two other grenades she had on her suit. With out thought she quickly tossed them over the dune above her hoping to get lucky. The sound of two exploding grenades followed shortly behind the dune. Silence came over the area for a moment, making Aisha wonder if she had won as she pulled out her only remaining weapon, the beam saber. However, suddenly the lone Zaku dashed over the top of the dune with its heat hawk drawn. The massive ax came swinging low towards the legs of the GM. However, Aisha failed to notice and only could swing her own blade at the oncoming attack. At nearly the same moment Aisha's legs were met by the heat hawk her beam saber slid through the chest of the Zaku, causing the Zaku to explode sending the remains of Aisha's GM crashing to the desert floor again. A single blue flare came rising out of the sky to the dismay of all the men of alpha platoon who were still trapped behind the outpost out RF-1. "Retreat, it is boys. We aren't going to win this day," said Des knowing that he shouldn't risk any more of his men in this effort. All of Des's platoon quickly raised their weapons unloading the final barrage of their weapons at the AA guns which were targeting their area, causing one to blow up as they retreated from the field. Des Milles: 7 CP gained, Injured 2 Aisha Vumeino: 8 VP gained, Repairing 4, Injured 3 "Well she-it, look at that storm!" Aldo P. Armistad stared out the window of the Gaw-class Dragon at the swirling clouds below. They hid a view of the Alaskan wilderness, its frigid beauty ravaged by the wind, sleet, and snow. Armistad chewed softly on the cigar that poked from his lips - unlit, for the time being. He would wait until after the battle to light it up. Hugo Lethe and Danny Gerard stood by his side, and Danny smiled. "Nothing like this back on Mahal, I'll tell you that. Should help us out when we come down on that new Fed base." "That's right. We're gonna' drop right on top o'th' Earthers and wipe 'em out. Boys," the charismatic man said, as he hefted up his beltline with both hands, "this is a prime opportunity to observe the Feddie in his native habitat. He enjoys runnin' and hidin' whenever possible, even to the end of the world like here, and it is our job to flush h-" Armistad never had the opportunity to finish his briefing, as the Dragon listed sharply to one side for a few moments. The Basterds slipped about, and Donny nearly fell to the floor before grasping his commanding officer for stability. Aldo paused to help his man to stand, before rounding on the ship's ranking officer, Lt. Ando Shoji. "What the hell kinda' outfit you got here?" The fire in Aldo's eyes was quickly extinguished as he saw the confusion in those of Ando. "That was an underhanded tactic by the enemy, Lieutenant! Prepare to launch a counterattack!" He struck a pose, but was interrupted by the blinking of an incoming transmission. The Dragon was being hailed on an open frequency. The ID registered as from the Federation, causing Armistad to smirk in scorn as their attacker came into view. "Unidentified Zeon ship, this is Captain Nigel Ferdinand of the Earth Federation. You have amongst your prisoners a civilian by the name of Melissa Ferdinand. She is a noncombatant in this war and I demand you release her immediately. Otherwise, I will be forced to fire upon you again. You have one minute to respond." Before Aldo or Ando could reply, the transmission cut off. Nigel stepped back, and winced at the pain from his still-broken leg. Composing his expression, he turned to his staff. "Seriously, we fired everything we had, and we only winged the damn thing?!" One of his bridge crew looked up at him and shrugged. "It's an incredible blizzard out there, sir. We're lucky we got the ship at all given the visibility." Nigel sighed. His Medea-class ship, the Chicken Little, was currently grounded in a snow drift. He looked at the tactical output again, trying to mentally visualize the four snipers that had taken up hidden positions in the area. Kyle Webb stood at Nigel's side and patted his shoulder. "The reinforcements we got from command should help - with those extra snipers, we should be able to win against whatever that Gaw can produce. Uhh, I think it's time again." Nigel nodded, and re-hailed the Gaw. The connection was established, and he quickly went into the second part of his rehearsed speech. "So, have you decided to return an unlawfully-kept prisoner, or will you continue to defy the rules of warfare and be destroyed for it?" Facing him now was a middle-aged man. When he spoke, the heavy southern accent grated on Nigel's ears in a way he had not thought possible. "No, I don't think we'll be doin' that." Nigel nodded to his left, and his comm. officer informed the GM Sniper pilots to commence firing again. But agonizingly, the only response was a large, toothy grin from the Zeon officer. "Y'see, what I think we'll do instead is go an' blow up your purdy little Feddie base." Nigel gaped, open-mouthed, and he could see an officer behind Aldo wave to somebody offscreen. "When we're done with that, we're gonna' come back here and kill every single one of ya'. Goodbye." "Wait! I'm not through with you yet!" Nigel's shouts were ignored, as the Zeon officer ended the connection. "Get back here!" Nigel balled his fists in anger, and spun to face his comm. officer. The pain in his leg was wholly ignored, and spittle flecked from his lips in fury. "Somebody shoot them down!" The GM Snipers re-commenced their attacks, but had very little success as the Gaw traveled further from their positions, combined with the poor weather. One of the GM Snipers had plugged itself into the Chicken Little's reactor, and waited until the last possible moment, as the Dragon passed almost directly above where the Medea had buried itself. The shot that fired from its rifle was hardly a killing strike, but it ripped heavily into one of the Gaw's wings, causing the Dragon to shudder, and lose almost all its engine thrust from one side. The ship's speed dipped sharply, as it puttered forward at a snail's pace. Ando did some quick calculations, and turned to Aldo, frustration evident on his face. "We're not going to be able to get to the base for the attack. They will escape the righteous fury of our swords!" Aldo spat out his cigar in annoyance, and looked at the Basterds. "Well, now what the hell do we do?" "Where is the Dragon?" The Excelsior's commander sighed, and looked at his tactical plans. "We could really use those forces." The Gaw, and her fellow fleet-mate, the Gaw-class Stilva, were on an approach towards New Amsterdam. But there was no word from their highest ranking officers, who all had remained on the Dragon. He was hailed by the Stilva, and the two captains briefly discussed their options with regards to continuing the operation. His radar officer's sharp intake of breath caught his ear, and he looked over. "Something I should know, Ensign?" The fresh-faced woman looked up and nodded, no trace of humor evident in her expression. "Sir, I'm reading multiple fighters on a direct course to our position. Time to intercept, no more than 100 seconds." The Zeon captain frowned. "How could they... Doesn't matter. Ensign, get me the Stilva again, please." He quickly shared the information with his counterpart on the Stilva, and both men realized that their decision had been made for them already. The Gaws loosed their contingents of Dopps, and the Zeon fighters immediately took up defensive positions around the two larger ships. Within moments the pilots could see the Federation ships closing in on their screens, and several long-range attack attempts were made. One glancing blow by the Zeons sheared off a Federation pilot's tail fin, and it spiraled down towards the ground. In his Tin Cod, Jack Fitzgerald attempted to raise the Black Hawk by any means he could. Several other pilots also attempted to raise their commanders on radio frequencies, but the storm raging between them and their base made communication nearly impossible. Nevertheless, they dove into dogfights with tenacity. "Okay guys, stay calm. Break on my mark and fire at targets of opportunity. See if you can take down those Gaws. Three... Two... One... Mark!" Jack pulled at his controls, spiraling off to chase after a Dopp. The various Federation pilots did the same, though many struggled to keep up with the speedier Zeon craft. Despite outnumbering their foes by almost double, the Feds were on the losing end of more interactions than they won. As such, the Gaws were able to move effectively unmolested towards the base, and continued on their attack approaches at speed. *GNNNNNNNRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH* "Woah girl! Woah!" Cray Vermillion attempted to keep a firm hand on the reins of his transport beast - 'What the hell were they called, bon-bons? Sounds like a candy...' - and peered through his goggles at the violent flurries of snow that surrounded him. Attempting to calm his ride, he spoke softly, as if to her. "Of course, we've all got to be on watch duty. The pilots from the Black Hawk do, and my tank's all shot to tell. So it's just you and me out here right now." At that, a burning hunk of metal several feet tall whizzed within ten feet of his head and buried itself into a snowbank. He could see Federation markings on what was obviously a burned piece of metal, and quickly put two-and-two together. 'Shit, we're under attack. Back to base!' Cray tried to will the animal to move as fast as possible, turning her back towards New Amsterdam. As he traveled, he yelled into the radio clipped to his jacket. "We've got company! Scramble everybody!" Aldo leaned in and looked at his Basterds, who stared back grimly. "It behooves oneself to keep his wits in a situation like this. Now it appears that we will NOT be makin' it to the ball on time to meet our date." He turned to Ando. "However, what else we gonna' do? Go home?" Ando shook his head slowly, having guessed what Aldo would suggest. "Damn straight we ain't gon' go home. We're gonna find us a new date and go have ourselves some fun!" He slammed his fist into the opposite palm, punctuating the word 'fun.' Hugo paused. "So we're going to have to abandon the original plan, then?" "Afraid so. There's no way we'll get anywhere close to the Federation base with the damage we've sustained to our engines. It would take hours more. It will be a simple maneuver to turn around and drop the heavy end of the hammer," and here he grinned, "and that would be you gentlemen, on that damn Fed ship that tried to stab us in the back." Shoji looked at Armistad, who responded by fishing inside his pocket for a new cigar. He stuffed it in his mouth, his wide grin slowly returning. "Mount up!" It was a matter of moments for the 'Basterds' to be prepared to drop, and Ando put them into position as near as they could tell by the origination point of the shot that had destroyed their engines. He raised the men on their radios one last time. "I'm going to let you off and then pull out so that those snipers don't get another look at the Dragon. I trust you'll be okay from here. Ferusha will leave a rendezvous point location on your systems as you drop - we'll wait for you for a day or two if necessary. But no more - I could not keep myself from the front for any longer, for the sake of our cause." Aldo shrugged. "I didn't come all the way down here to Earth just to get shot at and run off like a dog. We'll see you when we see you, Lieutenant." With that, he dropped his Dom S out the back of the Gaw, followed quickly by Hugo and Donny's Doms. Unfortunately, massive gusts of wind buffeted all three pilots, and sent them in wildly different directions. None of the Basterds landed anywhere near the origin of the shot that had attacked them, so they immediately set out to locate the nearest foe to each of their positions. In a related development, several GM Snipers attempted to sink deeper into the snow, as they tried valiantly to aim through conditions that only worsened. "The engines are frozen?" There wasn't even surprise in Nigel's voice at the latest development - only a sort of resignation at his continued misfortunes. He continued to bark orders to his subordinates, encouraging them to try and thaw out the engines by draining power from their other energy supplies. He wanted that Gaw, and here he was, stuck in the ground! The voice of one of the members of his newly-arrived GM Snipers came over the comm. "Sir, we could really use some help out here. There are several Zeon mobile suits that have dropped into the area, and a bit of back-up would be most w-." The soldier's sentence was cut off in a burst of static, which caused everybody to jump slightly on the bridge of the Chicken Little. Nigel gripped a nearby chair to steady himself and began barking orders. "I want our Cold Climate Types out there, NOW! Get these guys some support. And somebody get me some movement - something!" The steel in his voice came from a well Nigel had rarely tapped into before now, but he managed to find the strength to draw on it at this moment. His staff moved quickly, the bridge a bustle of activity. In the cold of the Arctic tundra, Hugo nodded to himself, though he was saddened that he could not see the face of the man he had just killed. In the distance, he could barely make out Donny's Dom, which was skirmishing with another of the Fed sniper suits. The fight was over almost before it began, as the Dom's powerful heat saber cut a blindingly-bright path through the snow, and the GM's armor. Aldo's voice crackled on their speakers, difficult to make out. His drawl hardly helped matters. "I wa- -u boys t'f- th'other su-b-ch and do hi-. I got our fr-." Both Zeon pilots nodded and moved to discover any remaining Federation mobile suits, while Aldo stalked forwards, sure of the location of the Fed that had dared to shoot at him. Unbeknownst to all the Zeon pilots, the GM CCTs, had departed from the Chicken Little and were now pursuing the pursuers. They honed in on Donny's Dom, and were able to fire off several salvos from their machineguns before he noticed their presence. The rounds bored into the armor surrounding Donny's cockpit, but none penetrated, to his great relief. He yelled for assistance from Hugo, and tried to find some form of cover that wasn't an illusion amidst the swirls of white. He feared that the CCTs might overwhelm him, as they pressed their advantage while Hugo tried to arrive and lend a hand. Once more the Federation suits opened fire, and this time one piece of shrapnel dug into Donny's leg, cutting it deeply. He swore in pain, and tried to calculate a way to survive. Suddenly, Nigel's voice filled the cockpits of the GM pilots, heavy with worry. "Return to the Medea immediately! We are under attack!" Indeed, Aldo had found his prey, and was taking on the GM Sniper that protected it still. The fourth sniper - the one that had been a passenger of the Chicken Little's before this day's battles, was attempting to return to the ship and assist in the fight. But Aldo was too fast, too good, and far too mean. A feint with the beam saber held in one hand caused the GM Sniper to stumble in the wrong direction, immediately in line with the Dom S's scattering beam gun. One shot ended the fight as quickly as it had begun, and the GM was no more. Before he could continue, though, Hugo contacted him. The large man's voice was as calm as always, but there seemed to be an edge to the words that wasn't normally there. "Bastards got Donny, Lieutenant. He's alive, but hurt. Not very mobile. And they're headed your way. What d'you wanna do?" Aldo considered for a moment, before pulling out his suit's sturm faust. He took careful aim in the direction of where he thought the Medea was, and pulled the trigger. Finally, the oncoming CCTs registered on his sensors, and he quickly moved to avoid them. Several shells peppered his backside as he took off, but they did little damage. His Dom quickly vanished from their sight. "Okay boys, we're done here. Let's get Donny a nice morphine cocktail. These fellas'll keep 'till later. We're not done here..." So saying, he headed to meet up with Hugo and Donny, in order to help ferry the latter to a safer location. 'They better keep. I want somebody's head on a stick fer this...' "I sure hope you're right, Vermillion. We've got our entire fleet mobilized, and the mobile suit contingent is in defensive positions all around the harbor." A massive explosion caused New Amsterdam's current CO to stop and look at a screen filled with passing data. He rubbed his hands together angrily, and his expression darkened. "And now we've just lost our first pilot in this 'engagement' of yours. One of our Tin Cods was blown off the runway during takeoff, and the pilot failed to eject before ramming into a support structure. So help me, Cray..." He was interrupted again, this time by another base officer. "Sir, reports of multiple bombing contacts on the eastern edge of the facility!" The Gaws had managed to fly directly overhead of the Federation base. Though the could barely make out its location even with the Excelsior's advanced scanners, they had already received a full report on all facility locations. As such, they released their ordinance with confidence, dropping their bombs into the maelstrom of the clouds below them. The weapons followed course, blown slightly about, and began ramming into New Amsterdam's various buildings. Massive gouts of flame spurted up into the storm, and the backlighting of the flames managed to penetrate the seeming walls of snow that continued to fall. Dozens of personnel perished, and a handful of key installations, were severely damaged. But the bombing failed to reach the harbor, or the ships berthed there. The 6 GMs on crew took up defensive positions, and filled the air with anti-ordinance fire. Several explosions rocked the harbor, as a couple of large bombs detonated in mid-air. But none of the shells managed to do any harm to their main targets, and the Hillock, Himalaya, and Big Tray remained safe for the time being. Slowly, more and more of the EFF base's air force was making its way airborne. The pilots had been instructed to wait until the wind died down to attempt taking off, and so the process was slow. Nevertheless, one, two, several more Tin Cods made their way into the air, joining their comrades in the dogfight above the Alaskan coasline. A pair of explosions rocked the port side of the Stilva, as several Tin Cods had managed to close to attack range. Her captain ordered for evasive maneuvers and raised the Excelsior in response. "Look, the Dragon's obviously not going to show. I've lost a pair of my best pilots, and I know you've got a bloody nose as well. This isn't going to work without our mobile suit contingent, or the officers that were shepherding them." Both men considered briefly, before the Excelsior's captain smacked a palm down on the armrest of his chair. "That's it, we're done here. Order a full retreat, with a fighter screen to distract those damn Federal forces that are harassing us. One pass is enough for now - let's get out of here." With those orders relayed to the members of their forces, the Zeons began pulling back. A handful of Dopps patrolled the rear of their formation, ensuring that none of the Federation's pilots decided to try and act the hero. The Feds, meanwhile, were busy figuring out who they had lost, and trying to determine the safest ways to return to the base - landing in this storm was no easy task. They permitted the Zeon forces their retreat. Jack pulled up the fuel stats from all fighters still in the air. "Okay, Simmons, you head down first, you're closest to redlining. And make sure to let everybody know when you get close that you're on your way in, along with the rest of us. I'm not sure how good communications are right now." Nigel wiped his forehead. That missile by the Zeon pilot had impacted on a nearby rocky outcropping, showering his ship with stones the size of couches, but had done no serious damage. His remaining pilots slowly made their way back in to his hangars, as an Ensign came up to him. "We have thrusters back online, sir. What are your orders?" Nigel didn't even hesitate. "Back to base." His own desires would have to wait. He needed to see to his men - he was learning that much, at least. And the potential for an attack by that Gaw was still there. They had to head back to New Amsterdam immediately. Ion Bossa-Nova looked at Cray and wrinkled her nose. "Eugh, you smell horrific! I get that the fighting was intense, but didn't you just ride around out there for a while and then rush back in?" Vermillion nodded absentmindedly, his mind elsewhere. Ion rolled her eyes, and tapped him on the arm, getting his attention once more. "Anyway, I'm thinking of getting some grub. You want to come with?" Cray shook his head and burped, then patted his stomach. "Already ate. Some things taste much better than they smell, by the way." He hummed a brief tune to himself, then, as he turned and headed down the hall. "Dum, dum, dum, dum da dummmmm..." Nigel Ferdinand: 7 VP gained, No Damage Aldo Armistad: 5 VP gained, Repairing 1, Fatigued 1 Ando Shoji: 6 VP gained, Fatigued 1 Cray Vermillion 7/2 VP gained, No Damage |