The ever-present drone of the gigantic barrel-shaped engines atop the Chicken Little filled the cockpit, nearly palpable, and First Lieutenant Nigel Ferdinand was none too happy to be inside the cramped bridge at the front of the aircraft. The pilot maintained their heading and altitude wordlessly, keeping the massive aircraft neatly aligned to the rear of its sisters, the Saint James and Lady Isabella in a tight reverse-V formation. Doubly unnerving was the fact that all the 42nd's combat and support aircraft were deployed in combat formation. The Tin Cods were dispersed throughout the local airspace, supplementing all the other fighters as they moved into North Africa. The Depp Rogs flanked the the 42nd, the Jet Core Boosters lead the pack, the Don Escargots navigated below the Medeas, and the lone Dish soared high above its allies, a sentinel keeping watch. The radio beeped and messaged the Chicken Little. "Dish here... You're not gonna like this. We've got a half dozen bogies on our 12, comin' in fast. Prob'ly Dopps. Dish out." Nigel Ferdinand tensed momentarily, before being slightly reassured by several things, including the 42nd's air superiority, the enemy's number, and not least of all, the sight of a nearby parachute. The radio crackled and beeped again. "Yeah, one more thing, looks like some Zakus on the ground too. Dish out." Well, the cockpit crew probably wouldn't notice if Nigel moved a little closer to the parachute. "4th NAAP to Pink Panthers, do you copy?" "Barely." "...Right, that's good enough. Anyway, we've got incoming Feddies, 3 Medeas and what looks like half the African population in fighters and support craft. Copy that?" "Copy." "You fellas are a talkative bunch, you know that?" A conflagration erupted from a wounded Dopp, blazing momentarily in the sky like a small sun before smoke overtook the flames and debris fell to the ground, trailing even more gray smoke. A Jet Core Booster burst through the expanding cloud, ripping it apart. The smoke grasped at the fighter's fuselage before it faded away, and the Booster cut through the sky to another Dopp. The Luggun had fallen at the beginning of the battle, destroyed by the Depp Rogs at long range. Five Dopps made their way through the Tin Cod squadron, easily cutting down the inept Federation pilots. Two, three, four Tin Cods exploded, and the Dopps pushed on, vulcan rounds denting their armor as they glanced off. They kept pushing through the bulk of the Federation's forces, desperately charging for one of the Medeas, knowing they were greatly outmatched and were already surrounded. The Don Escargots closed in behind them, firing off salvo after salvo of missiles after the desperate Zeons. The Dopps on the outside of the formation dropped through the sky, one even crashed into another Tin Cod on the way down, dragging it to the same fate at the bottom of a dune. The Medeas dropped altitude, trying to avoid the worst of the explosions, and as they dropped, Nigel started in the Chicken Little's cockpit, not liking the whole "actual combat" thing, regardless of how many times he'd have to go through it. On another indescript dune, not too far from any of the wreckage sites in any direction, the Pink Panthers approached the Medea formation at a rapid pace, skiing over the sand with their giant robot rocket propelled sand skis. Zeon engineering allowed for many equally amazing feats of technological prowess. They suddenly found themselves at a favorable range from the Saint James and brandished their Zaku Rocket Launchers. They menaced with tubes of gray and optical sights. Targeting the Saint James, they let loose a storm of rockets, impacting and detonating along the bottom of the cargo containers and portside landing gear. Three Dopps were left, and they continued fighting their way through the densely packed airspace, shooting down three more Tin Cods on their way. A Jet Core Booster shot up in front of the Dopps and opened fire, three missile struck one of the brown fighters, and only sparse scraps of metal fell to the ground. There were two Dopps now, and they were nearing the Medeas, the Saint James billowing smoke, who were unable to do anything but sit there as they were fired upon by the Pink Panthers and were charged by certainly suicidal Zeon pilots. Yet another Dopp fell to a missile, but it was impossible at this point to tell who fired it as all the Federation aircraft scrambled to get out of the line of fire and to prepare to defend the Medeas. The last Dopp finally fell, victim to no less than the entirety of the remaining Federation forces focusing on him. It was a death without glory, machine guns from a Jet Core Booster tearing it apart midair, and it too exploded, a burning airframe falling to the ground, blackened and crippled. The Pink Panthers retreated, their rocket ammunition depleted, and the Federation fighters no longer having any other targets to be distracted by. The Saint James was forced to hold a low altitude, and the whole 42nd complement pulled back into a formation, trying to recoup from its losses as Nigel Ferdinand looked towards the horizon. He picked up the radio and began issuing orders to all surviving soldiers. Nigel Ferdinand - 7/2 VP gained, No Additional Damage ![]() Emil Myberg - 1 VP gained, No Damage The darkness of night is so thick and absolute it was as if someone dumped a bucket of black indian ink on to the North African landscape. Only the moving searchlights of the isolated RF-2 mine can reveal the mysteries of the night. But the searchlights cannot be everywhere at once. Shadows stir in the darkness as nocturnal predators bid their time. They dart from sand dune to sand dune. It took about an hour to cross a distance they could have covered in ten minutes if they ran. But eventually they reach the familiar ground. Des Mielle looked over the familar airfield in RF-2. Rather than the flat runway that aircraft need to takeoff, it is potholded from explosions and littered with wreckage. Mielle looked back at his men. Jocelyn and the rest of her Red Squad is right behind him. They check their weapons as they lay in hiding. Next to Jocelyn is the veteran hunter Sergei Vastimov. Keeping noise to a minium Vastimov taps the platoon runner on the shoulder. The light footed Ted looked up as Vastimov gestures with his hands. Nodding, Ted works his way down the line of men and came back with another man. Vito slided into the sand next to Des Mielle. With Ted's help, the Italian former SWAT team member hands over pouches of high explosives to their leader. Mielle swung the bundles over his shoulder, then with a final wink at his men rolled onto the cratered airfield and out of sight. The leader of Red Squad moved over to her platoon leader. Vastimov was watching the base for activity when Jocelyn taps him on the shoulder. "Blue Squad is in position twenty meters to the west," she reported. Vastimov nodded," Good. Let's hope Des doesn't sightsee." The rogue in question rolls over into a ditch on the other side of the airfield. Mielle's prosthetic leg sank into the sand a little bit deeper than he intended and he gritted his teeth as he nearly fumbled the explosives. Then something caught Mielle's eye which made him grin. Dawn came early as a plume of fire erupted from the maintenance sheds on the edge of the damaged airfield. The attack couldn't had come at a worst time, the Zeon troop's Luggun aircraft was on the ground for routine repairs when Des Mielle found it. Now all that is left of it is a burning fuselage. But even as the RF-2 garrison sprung into action, the attackers are pressing their advantage. A barrage of missiles from a Type 50 and the first of seven 305mm bazooka rounds pummel the base. The solitary cannon fired a few rounds in desperate retaliation until it was silenced by a missile barrage from a second Type 50. Aisha Vemunio dropped the GM Bazooka. The empty weapon slided down the edge of the sand dune she was hiding in. In the distance, two Zaku II Js are charging her while a third began launching its leg missiles. The female rogue pilot fired a burst from her 100mm machinegun before the GM Ground Type ducked behind the sand dune again. A string of 120mm rounds kicked up sand as the Zeon mobile suits advanced. The first one leaped over the sand dune while the second one hung back to cover the first Zaku II J. The covering Zaku II J watched as his partner blew away a Type 50 that couldn't run to its hidding place fast enough. Suddenly a pair of 280mm Zaku Bazooka rounds blew the second mobile suit into pieces. As the first Zaku II J looked back, something burst from the sand behind it. The glowing edge of a heathawk ate into the abdomen of the Zaku II J as Liliana Frisby emerged from his hiding place. The gears of the old Zaku Worker creak as the heathawk bit deeper into the dying Zaku II J. "Larry" Frisby kicked the dead mobile suit off his heathawk while admiring the fruits of his labor. His old heart is pounding with the excitement of the moment. Under all that sand, Frisby felt as though he was already dead and buried. But now, all of that training and practice had paid off as Frisby stared into the lifeless husk of the Zaku II J. Suddenly, his dog Gunther began barking viciously. It was enough warning for Frisby to dodge out of the way as the third Zaku II J open fire on him. One of the Zaku II Cs was not fast enough as it became the victim of an entire magazine of 120mm shells. But that is the last thing the Zeon defender would do as Vemunio's 100mm machinegun and her remaining Zaku II C's 120mm machinegun shattered the Zaku II J into a million fragments. Back at the base, things aren't going so well for Des Mielle and his Red Squad. The single surviving Gunship Heli is in the air with its small searchlight chasing them between the maze of buildings. Bursts of 60mm gattling rounds chew through walls as the low-flying Zeon helicopter chased them. Suddenly several firey trails collided with the helicopter, sending it carreening into the Communications tower. Des Mielle looked at the direction the missiles came from and can spot the outline of Vastimov with the members of Blue Squad waving at them from their new rooftop perch. The death of the Gunship Heli is soon followed by the silencing of the entrenched AA guns. The enemy's mismatched mobile suit force of Federal and Zeon equipment make short use of the feeble defenses as the African Union attackers swarm the base. A truck engine revs up as the base's Samson carrier [i]Delilah[/i] tried to flee with what resources they could from RF-2. The truck barely got half a kilometer away when the ground attacked them. Like a trapdoor spider common to the African wilderness, a Depagg mobile gun carrier rams the side of the Samson. That move alone nearly sends the truck toppling over its side. But the arachnaform tank is faster and before the all of the truck's wheels touch the ground, the Depagg is unloading its 6-barrel 30mm gattling. The truck eventually crashed headfirst into a sand dune as its dead crew raised the death toll for the night's battle. Des Mielle - 7 CP gained, Injured 1 Liliana Frisby - 8 VP gained, Repairing 2+1 Aisa Vemunio - 8 VP gained, Repairing 1+1 *SLAP* The noise rang throughout the hangar, reverberating off the various mobile suits carried by the Lucifer's Fury. It was followed soon after by the sound of feet stomping off into the distance, their clicks vanishing into a far hallway. All eyes followed the source of the noise, a cute new member of the Tivvay's mechanical crew. As she disappeared into another section of the ship, those she passed saw that she blushed a bright pink. Coincidentally-enough, that was the color also found on Caleb DeGrau's right cheek. Richard Banks walked over from the foot of his Rick Dom, patting Caleb briefly on the shoulder. The two pilots looked at each other, and both began grinning. DeGrau put a hand on top of the red welt that was now forming on the right side of his face, as Richard began cracking a joke about whether or not it would make Caleb's face go faster. Caleb nodded in humor, rubbing his cheek thoughtfully. Off in the distance, running his eyes over the latest figures for his new-ish Action Zaku, Yoritomo Naizen frowned at the other two men briefly. The serious pilot glared at them for their frivolity, and returned back to his studies. He would have to push himself ever harder, to ensure top performance. At least he was more or less assured of seeing further combat engagements, now. 'With such unfocused comrades, I must sharpen my own thoughts. I can't let my brothers travel too far in front of me, with their combat experience!' And behind it all, oddly enough, came one other sound. Some of the crew closest to the hallway where the young girl had vanished could swear that they now heard... Giggling? Issac Lon'Dozai stared at the trio of women who were giggling as they looked at him. Strangely, they didn't seem to be swooning, the act to which he had grown accustomed. Instead, they appeared to be almost mocking him. 'These pants aren't too tight, are they?' Shaking his head, he cleared the thoughts from his mind and turned instead to thinking of the upcoming skirmish. The Zeon forces had him significantly outnumbered, and there was a reasonable chance that they could lose most - or all - of the Federation's forces in this sector. Rachel Arronax was thinking much the same thing, as she tampered with a small gadget in her room on the Kira Yamato. A knock at the door brought her attention, and she opened it to find Issa Kobayashi there. He nodded to her, and tipped his head towards the hangar. The message was clear. 'Time to go.' As the two of them walked side-by-side, each reflected on the successes and failures they had been through. Both pilots were the tops within the Damocles Strike Force - the name coined for the primary attacking group of the upcoming operation. Each had saved the other, either directly or indirectly. And now they would once again go into battle side-by-side. There was a trust growing between them, of competency. Issa's own self-assuredness was well complimented by Rachel's own nervousness with her successes on the field of battle. They crossed a hallway, and nearly stumbled into Marc Simmons, who blinked at them from behind his shades. Simmons grinned at them, illustrating his pleasure by crossing his hands behind his head. "Here to get some tricks from the master before the upcoming show?" Issa paused, and shook his head. "I, ah, think we'll be okay, Marc. Thanks." "Suit yourself - just make sure you don't get in the way of my ROBOT SPIRITS - I can't guarantee I won't blind you in a bout of accidental awesomeness!" "Uhh, right. Thanks for the heads up. Shall we, Ms. Arronax?" Rachel nodded, barely containing her grin, and the pair stepped around the enthusiastic Petty Officer. As the two veteran pilots entered the hangar, they passed by Dawn Ellis, who smiled briefly at Rachel. "Tobias's ready, Chief. Full armor load-out, no bits, just like you asked." A slight tarnishing of Dawn's blonde hair could be seen, obviously grease - the girl had hardly heeded Rachel's advice about keeping cleaner. 'But I guess if the suit performs, that doesn't really matter too much, does it?' Even as she began to ready herself mentally, her previous calibration crossed her thoughts. A glance at Dawn's perky visage held no solutions, though the new engineer's words echoed in Rachel's head. 'On top of the fear, eh?' She looked across the hangar, at Otaktai Lone Wolf, who was rubbing a small pouch that hung from his neck. He seemed to be almost in a trance, and she admired the way he could remove himself from the moment, sending his thoug- As alarms began to blare, Otaktai jumped, before heading towards his assigned location. Rachel shook herself inwardly. It was time. Platitudes had no place on the battlefield today. She hoisted herself upwards, heading towards her cockpit. Wu Jinyuan examined the tactical readout in front of him. "It appears they're trying to play the old shell game. Unfortunately for the Feds, they're not nearly as quick-of-hand as they'd like to think they are." Every eye on the cockpit of the Monarch was trained on the Lieutenant - they knew that he would mercilessly berate any of them if they failed to listen to his diatribes anyway. And the infuriating thing was just how often they proved to be correct, anyway. "I mean, don't you think it's interesting how they've arrayed their forces so that their two most unique ships just happen to be in the same carrier group?" Wu didn't say so, but his gut feeling was telling him the same thing his analytical sense was. "I don't think we can go off your gut feeling here, Lieutenant." The words from Captain Jeanne Schwert grated on him, as he knew they would. She could be infuriating at times. "Don't we need, oh, I don't know... Proof?" Wu tapped his foot briefly, then turned to Schwert. "Fine. You want to be sure? Then it's impolite to keep everybody waiting, don't you think? Let's get this show on the road. Fire!" At Jinyuan's command, his communications crew immediately got on the horn and began contacting several Zeon ships in the distance. They took careful aim, following the telemetry from the main Zeon group forces, and loosed a group of missile salvos from long-range. The attacks blasted into the heart of each of the three squads, instead of focusing on the central one Jinyuan had pinpointed. But true to his hypothesis, while two of the salvos simply popped obviously-fake balloons, one of the blasts threw several obviously-real capital class ships about. "As I expected," Jinyuan intoned, "the Federation has arrayed themselves about their Pegasus-class cruiser. Commence the operation, targeting their primary fleet. Secondary weaponry from the Monarch will deal with any stragglers in the other groups." He turned an infuriating expression on Captain Schwert, then, and raised his eyebrows at her. "Shouldn't you be in the Erinyes capsule, cap~tain?" He drew out the last word in a sing-song fashion. Jeanne pursed her lips briefly, and looked as though she would strangle the man, but kept her composure. "I have left it to one of my subordinates. I'll be here with you today, as I'm sure you knew. I wouldn't want anything to happen to that pretty little head of yours..." Heedless of the banter taking place on its bridge, the Gwazine's smaller guns, on the port and starboard sides of the ship, took aim at the "fake" Federation battlecruisers. They pulsed, and energy blasted out towards the realistic-looking ships. At the same time, the Monarch's main guns took aim at the heart of the Federation's main forces and let loose an enormous salvo. Following that, the Gwazine began to rotate, presenting itself in profile in order to keep the largest number of guns trained on the Federation's ships. On the Federation's side, Lon'Dozai's voice rang out. "All hands, commence!" A flurry of activity followed, and the Federal fleet sprang into action as well. A number of missiles issued from the fore weapons bays of the various operational ships, including a handful of oddly shaped weapons that spurted from the Merrimack. From a distance, a large grouping of additional long-range ordinance came slashing to join the attack, and the massive grouping of missiles and rockets headed out towards the distant Zeon fleet. Barely noticed, one small Public-class cruiser dumped a pair of anti-beam missiles in between the main strike force for the Federation, and the Gwazine's main guns. All of the shots, beam and rocket, streamed across the void between the two groups, though few reached their intended targets. While the Gwazine's anti-aircraft weaponry managed a spirited defense against the missile salvos, the anti-beam defenses layed down by the Public effectively canceled out the Monarch's initial attack. Amidst all of the explosions, beam shots, and shrapnel, the small contingent of strange weaponry from the Merrimack continued towards the Gwazine. Though several other missile salvos near to it were destroyed, they managed to pass through the AA flak without incident. The Federation was extraordinarily fortunate at that, because of their very unique payload. "Twenty seconds to impact... Hold tight, kiddies, this is going to hurt." The marine squad leader braced himself against his seat restraints, and his subordinates did the same, as each one mentally counted down the remaining moments until impact. The squad of highly-trained operatives waited in special harnesses inside the armor-piercing rounds from the Merrimack. They knew their orders - get inside the Zeke ship, and get to the bridge. Even amidst such experienced combatants, knuckles whitened and brows furrowed in nervousness. With a seeming feeling of agonizing sluggishness, they continued to close on the Zeon flagship. Ten seconds... Five... *Thud* A young Zeon ensign stopped as he walked hurriedly down a hallway, carrying a series of data reports for Lt. Jinyuan. "What the hell was that?" He turned towards the source of the noise, and peered intently at the wall, taking a step towards it. He never got the chance to cry out, as a second later, the metal exploded inwards, caving in his upper body. Jinyuan would never get those reports, apparently. A dozen Federal marines poured through the six-foot hole in the inner hull, each man handling the three-foot drop to the floor with little difficulty. They spread out quickly, establishing that their entrance had indeed gone effectively unnoticed (well, except for the grease stain on the floor). Their squad's technology officer began scanning in an attempt to locate the fastest route to the bridge. After several checks to ensure accuracy, he nodded at the rest of his team, and they headed off at a fast trot. The Advent slid through the explosion clouds that surrounded it, having more-or-less evaporated its unlucky balloon compatriots. However, directly before it now was its target, the Zeon Tivvay-class ship. It had been the source of a number of the Zeon mobile suits that were now skirmishing in between the two groups of capital ships. It was at an odd angle when compared with the rest of the forces in the combat zone, but well within reach of the Salamis's guns. Her captain nodded to her gunners, and they began working on acquiring firing solutions on the ship. "Sir, we're getting some odd readings from the Zeke's mobile suit units." The Advent's bridge crew were young, but competent. So their captain new to trust their judgment if they suggested something was amiss. Even so, she had her orders, and the Zeon's dangerous mobile suits were hardly a new problem. "I understand, Ensign. Keep an eye out for anything unusual, but continue on course." The young man nodded, and returned to scanning his sensors. His eyes widened briefly, before the entire bridge was rocked in a massive quake. "Report! We're not in range of the Tivvay yet, are we?" The entire crew were in disarray, and no response was quickly forthcoming. The captain took it upon herself to stride over to the nearest console and examine the reports of damage covering the screens there. The news was not good. It appeared as though a battleship-class cannon had scored a blow on the fore of the Advent, severely damaging it. The captain was beside herself. "Somebody tell me where that came from!?" Blank expressions and gazes of confusion were the only things that greeted her in return, and she balled her fists in frustration. Another blow pitched the entire ship forward, this time striking the aft of the ship. The blast nearly severed the bridge from the rest of the ship, but it retained atmosphere for a few final moments. They were not spent happily. "Boom." The words were barely whispered, but they were accompanied by a sort of 'pushing' sensation originating from the person who spoke them. Florian Cuyler could feel the destruction of the Federation battleship. His cockpit's speakers crackled and a congratulatory voice came through loud and strong. "That should do it, yes?" As the boy opened his mouth to respond, a sharp pain struck his temple, as the bits from his Schnee Weiss were immolated in the expanding cloud of debris that had once been an agglomeration of machine and human occupants. In his own cockpit of the Braw Bro, Chris Burnett's eyes closed momentarily at the pain as well, though it was far weaker for him, and he was far better equipped physically to handle it. "Damn, never gets easier." The big man rolled his shoulders to try and find a more comfortable position. "Well, that's one down, shall we try for another?" He didn't wait for a response, knowing that his young compatriot was hardly talkative. For his part, Florian merely ran one hand across the opposite arm, sighing at how short a period of time he had managed to stay clean. Once more, a thin layer of fast-drying saltwater covered his body, and his head again throbbed with the pain of... 'Exertion? Something else?' The boy didn't know. And for the moment, he couldn't spare the time to focus on it, anyway. Grunting briefly to indicate acknowledgement to Chris, Florian shifted his thoughts back to his Psycommu-enabled weaponry, letting another trio of bits emerge from the modified Rick Dom's backpack. Chris, too, let loose his own reserve wire-guided bit. The two cast their thoughts about the battlefield, looking for targets of opportunity among the increasingly-disarrayed Federation forces. "Your mamas may have been monkeys, but so help me God you will get your banana-loving asses IN LINE and ON THE LINE. Mama's boy is a MARINE now!" On the immorally named Columbus-class Kicked Puppy, several hundred grunts lined up shoulder-to-shoulder. This process was made slightly more difficult due to the small jetpacks on the back of each and every soldier. But they were a hardy bunch, and stood ramrod-still. Besides, they knew their Colonel would rip them a new one. If they were lucky, he'd use his hands to do it, instead of... Well, nobody wanted to think about that so close to an operation. "You all have your orders, and we don't exactly have a lot of time. When I call out your assault groups, you will DE-plane IMM-ediate-LY and head for the target." He looked at the various troops assembled before him momentarily, then hit the button to open up the Columbus's hatch. "ONE!" The words came from his mouth before the door was even halfway open, and the first team sprinted to the entrance and leapt into the blackness of space without hesitation. Others moved up behind them efficiently, and the count continued a moment later. In that void between the Kicked Puppy and the target of its 'payload' were not only the marines, but a veritable killing field of shrapnel, beam weaponry, explosion clouds, and other hazards. The Columbus's contingent of Saberfish, which had earlier been launched in a more conventional fashion, took up positions around the marines in an attempt to protect them. Several Zakus noticed the odd configuration, and immediately headed over to investigate. The Saberfish ran interference as best they could, but before long it became apparent what was happening. The marines continued to exit the Kicked Puppy as fast as possible, but there were still several dozen on board. One Zaku relayed the information to Caleb DeGrau, as he was leveling a killing blow on a Saberfish pilot that had drifted too close to the skirmishing area of the mobile suits. Wishing he could take a quick smoke break, Caleb instead reoriented himself towards the source of this new Federation threat. While the Saberfish and Zakus circled each other, Caleb's heavily modified Zaku approached at high speed. The fast Federal jets were quick enough to match it, true, but they could hardly manage to maneuver with it. In short order, Caleb managed to swing around to the Columbus, while it still offloaded some of its 'passengers.' A quick stab from the Prototype's heat sword into the open hangar bay door took almost no effort. As a result, the Columbus - and several squads of marines still aboard - found themselves out of the fight, permanently. Caleb beat a hasty retreat as the transport ship began to spark, before exploding in a flash that caught another one of the Saberfish in it. However, the blast attracted a bit more attention than he had, and several other Saberfish found their way towards him. He began evasive maneuvers, and successfully dodged another pair of attacks. Out of nowhere, a beam of light caught him in the left leg, completely immolating that part of his suit's body. He attempted to spin around, but his AMBAC was partially compromised for a moment. Wildly stabbing at his thrusters, he pulled back away from the main combat zone, trying to scan for his attacker while the other Federal marines made their way through the middle of the fight. Derek Carter nodded at Michael Kreuz. "Good shot, man. Some of those guys definitely owe you a beer later." The Guncannon mass-production type's arm raised in a mock-salute, before turning and scanning the area for any hostiles. Kreuz nodded in his own cockpit. It wasn't always easy to fire on the Zeon forces, but it was certainly better than leaving his own comrades to be slaughtered. He sighted down the 'barrel' of the GM Sniper II's targeting computer, on the lookout for further threats to the EFF marine forces. However, using his suit's systems, he could only watch as many of them were simply cut down by accidental fire. Others met their ends from the Gwazine's anti-aircraft - turned to anti-personnel in this less-than-ironic instance. Feeling a sense of anger well inside him, he took careful aim at some of the AA batteries, and let the long-range rifle do its thing. The energy cut through the blackness and impacted heavily on the hull, cutting a massive swathe of destruction in the Monarch's AA. "Issa! On your left!" Issa spun and hacked at the onrushing Zaku, its heat hawk brandished high in the air. His swipe was just in time, and it cut down the Zeon suit before it could attack him. The explosion battered him about his cockpit, though, and he wiped a hand across his brow. It came back covered in sweat. Rachel concentrated, feeling the field of battle sweep around her. She fired with her beam gun, clipping another Zaku before it could take a potshot at the GM E. Marc returned the favor in kind, managing to pepper a Zaku HMT that was creeping up behind the GM Juggler. However, he was quickly forced to take evasive action himself as three more came after him. The GM Light Armor tried to offer assistance, and Otaktai's shots briefly caused the trio to break their attack run. But a quick shoulder tackle from his side launched the young pilot into the side of his cockpit, hard. He crumpled momentarily, consciousness lost. He presented a simple target... Rachel and Marc both felt the arrival at the same time. They turned, and each let loose a shot from their weapons of choice. Rachel's was far more effective, and somehow managed to contact the bit from the Schnee Weiss before it could fire on the defenseless GMLA. Marc managed to do little more than force Chris to pull his tentacle to the side, but it saved Otaktai for the moment. In the distance, Rachel almost felt as though she could hear a young boy cry out in pain. The GM Juggler's intervention had cost it. The Action Zaku moved in close, and let loose with its machineguns. The Juggler's armor kept it from destruction, but the damage to the suit was severe. Rachel sagged into her seat, but fought through the pain. Her suit's right side was almost useless, but she still defiantly let out one last blast from her beam gun. The shot struck the Act Zaku on the shoulder, spinning it around and giving Rachel the opening she need. She immediately began to retreat, grabbing the GMLA and its unconscious pilot. Issa instinctively moved to defend their departure. As the Rick Dom approached, flanked by several Zakus, the Gundam prototype took a number of warning shots. They were unlikely to hit, but kept the forces at bay momentarily so that his squadmates could retreat. Gritting his teeth, he began moving slowly towards the mass of Zeon mobile suits, ready to take on all of them. "Issa, I'm as game as the next guy to go out in a blaze of glory, but that's not why we're here!" Marc's words penetrated Issa's concentration, and he shook himself out of his suicidal mindset. With a few more carefully-placed blasts from both the Gundam and GM E, the two remaining mobile suit pilots began their own retreat towards the defensive line of the remaining capital class ships. A few Saberfish pilots, foolhardy or brave, attempted to run interference for them - they paid for their troubles with their lives, to a man. 'Made it.' When alone with his thoughts, the Marine Colonel was decidedly more mellow than with his troops. He had managed to maneuver the various hazards of the battlefield, and was now just a handful of meters away from the Gwazine's hull. The ship loomed over him in its massiveness, and he stared for just a moment. Then its great guns pulsed, sending a wave of energy that he could feel, even though the weapons were pointed nowhere near him. Take the expression, "a hot knife through butter." Melt the butter. Replace the knife with a low-emissions, high-energy chainsaw. Set it to 'liquefy.' Mix. This combination offers the opportunity to understand the impact of the Gwazine's main guns on the Federation's defensive line. The blasts from the Gwazine completely shattered the Arcadia, as beam energy pounded it into slag in mere moments. Several secondary explosions caught the GM Sniper in their shockwave, and sent Kreutz tumbling into the distance. It would be several long seconds before he could bring himself under control. "Around the corner!" The words were barely above a whisper, as the Federation's initial strike team had all reached the bridge. On a 3-count, they poured around the corners and immediately took up positions to cover the startled bridge crew. They could tell that the captain had been shocked - and from the looks of things, he was hardly used to the sensation. "Get down, Wu!" Captain Schwert reached for her sidearm instinctively, but a quick bullet to the upper part of her bicep disabused her of that notion. As she stumbled to the ground in pain, the Federal marines approached the center of the bridge. The squad leader walked to Jinyuan and pointed a gun, not at him, but at Jeanne. "Captain, I order you to surrender this bridge to us, or I will put three into her skull." Wu froze for a moment, the shock of seeing enemy forces still registering. Looking down at Jeanne - 'It was so odd to see her so... Uncomposed ...' - he finally caught up to the request of the marine before him. "Ugh. Fine. I will stand down, but I refuse to order the same to my men. Good luck getting them to do so." Jinyuan knew his troops would follow their standing orders to shoot unless ordered otherwise by his own command... As if to punctuate Wu's words, another massive salvo erupted from the Gwazine. It bored into the Kira Yamato, immolating it and one of its defensive complement of GM Es. Meanwhile, a large group of Zakus had massed around the Softboiled. The other Federation ships were little-able to offer it assistance, and so it had to fend for itself. It had little luck. As Chris's remaining beam gun and the Rick Dom kept the Guncannon at bay - Derek's attempts to pick from his massive weapons load-out went poorly - a the Zakus converged from all sides on the Salamis-class ship and its own GM E - not to mention a handful of Saberfish, almost all of which were swept aside like flies. "We are so screwed." Issac Lon'Dozai had a knack for pointing out the obvious, it would seem. The Merrimack's bridge rocked again from blasts to his ship from the numerous Zeon MS. He could almost feel the Gwazine's main guns training on his own Merrimack. The entire carrier group had been decimated, and almost all of his forces were dead or dying. He listened to the comm. traffic as Issa and Rachel began coordinating a final run into the heart of the Zeon forces. *WHOOOOMP* The massive explosion failed to consume Issac, and he curiously checked his monitors to see the Zeon Pazock-class caught in an enormous fireball. It extinguished itself quickly in the vacuum, but what remained could never be called a ship - and could indeed hardly be called scrap. The guns began tracking again, and this time oriented directly on the Lucifer's Fury while they recharged. As his bridge crew cheered, Issac slumped into his char. "Recall all forces. Pull everybody damaged back towards the Merrimack - and get us on the way towards that Gwazine." His indefatigable streak of humor finally reared its head. "We've gotta protect our new toy, after all!" Laredo Veil sat in his Zaku II E and pondered what he had just seen. The blast that had destroyed the Pride of Brunswick was clearly one that had originated from the Monarch. Though he had spent the entirety of the battle training his camera on the Pegasus, his sensor data had also recorded a number of small heat signatures traveling through the center of the fight. Though most had been destroyed, perhaps two dozen had managed to attach to the Gwazine's hull, and the bright flare of high-heat cutting tools was obvious to his suit's advanced sensors. From there, the result was obvious. The marines all had entry points nearest to the Gwazine's large gun emplacements, and several must have managed to encounter gunnery crews and subdue them. Laredo tapped his comm. "Attention, all troops, the Gwazine has been captured by hostile Federation forces. Please advise, any officers in area." The response came quickly, and shouted arguments could be heard in the background even as the command went out to the entire battlegroup. "Recall all mobile suits and retreat. This is an order - retreat for now, and we will reassess momentarily." While the Zeons began backtracking, another blast came from the side guns of the Gwazine. Obviously ill-trained to handle the ship's mechanics, it missed the Komusai from the Erinyes, by meters. But no clearer signal could have been given that Lt. Jinyuan was no longer in control of the Monarch - and that the Zeons needed to come up with a way to manage this new threat. And this time, it was one birthed in their own shipyards. Issac Lon'Dozai - Expert Crew Specialization Gained Derek Carter - 10 VP gained, Repairing 3 Michael Kreuz - 10 VP gained, Repairing 3 Otaktai Lone Wolf - 10+1 VP gained, Repairing 2 Injured 2 Rachel Arronax - 9/2 VP gained, Repairing +4 Injured 1, +1 NT Issa Kobayashi - 9 VP gained, Repairing 2 Marc Simmons - 9/2 VP gained, Repairing +2 Wu Jinyuan - 7 VP gained, Captured Laredo Veil - 7 VP gained, No Damage Richard Banks - 7 VP gained, Repairing 3 Caleb DeGrau - 7/2 VP gained, Repairing +4 Yoritomo Naizen - 8 VP gained, Repairing 2 Florian Cuyler - 7 VP gained, Injured 3 Chris Burnett - 7/2 VP gained, Injured 2, +1 NT |