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The men and women of the 2nd Team, Guatemala Patrol Wing, 88th Airborne, 56th Armored, and 2nd Mexican Border Patrol had spotted something green, or rather, many green things, moving through South America like they owned the place. The ragtag bunches of Federation soldiers had patrolled the area faithfully for a considerable period of time, but they'd never run into something like this. They didn't like the odds, but they had their orders, and that was enough for them. The Type 61s clustered behind the GMs, as the Tin Cods and Fly Mantas streaked overhead, waiting for the imminent engagement. The Dishes overhead had relayed all the relevant information; all that was left was to wait. They had chosen the location for the attack wisely; the new recruits were confident of victory, and the few veterans among them did not want to destroy their morale with the hard truth: Not many of them would make it through the engagement alive. One of Zeon's Jaburo Assault Forces (Sigma edition) rolled, tread, hovered and flew through South America. The troops were on edge; intel said that there were two rather-large Federation fleets in the area, and though nothing big had shown up on the long-range radar, talk of Minovsky particle-cloaked Feddie mega-fleets was not uncommon, especially among the greener Zeon recruits. But, in the presence of Standartenfuhrer Sebastian Brennan, or his squads of Panzergrenadiers that roamed the ship, all worry, and talk of worry, quickly disappeared. Everyone knew that it would be unwise to voice doubts - even indirect ones - as to their commander's ability to lead them through South America safely. Brennan half-hoped that one of them would be careless enough to let a remark slip, so that he could make an example of the absent-minded soldier. He was planning another speech soon, to rally his troops to excellence, riding a wave of recent victories and significant friendly reinforcements to victory at Jaburo. Sebastian was confident in his recently-bolstered fleet, and rightfully so - which was why he was only a little surprised and not at all worried when his fleet was ambushed by a few Federation patrols. The road to greatness was paved with a multitude of tiny gravel stones, and if he had to steamroll another few Feddies on the way to Jaburo, that was fine with him - actually, it would be a pleasure. He grinned as he began trotting toward Zeon's Gundam. The Emerald Titan would punish all who stood in its way. Persephone Dawn saw the Standartenfuhrer arrive in the hangar just before she jumped into her Zaku II Manipulator Type and headed out herself. Outside, the air was thick with artillery fire from the Gallops and Dobdays, mixing with return fire from a few Tin Cods and Fly Mantas that circled overhead. Dopps were pouring out of the ships to meet the threat in the air, and one of the Tin Cods spiraled out of the air, crashing into the jungle right next to Persephone, who side-stepped gracefully. Damn Feddies couldn't even crash properly. She jumped toward a GM who had overextended himself, and severed the unit's head as neatly as he had severed himself from the rest of his unit. His chagrin at losing his head didn't last long, as Persephone plunged the saber through the cockpit and leaped back in one fluid motion, avoiding the brunt of the large reactor explosion. She jumped into the fray just a little behind the Standartenfuhrer's Gundam, hoping he would leave her a few more Feddies before the fight was through. Elsewhere, Haifa Hahnemuehle had strapped into her GM Command, and was launching from one of the Gallops, expertly keeping her balance on the highly-maneuverable battleship. She jumped off, drew her beam sabers, and sliced through a low-flying Fly Manta, swatting it out of the air. She landed rather heavily, but began moving again almost immediately. Several Type 61s thundered at her, but the rounds did little damage to the GM Command's thick armor. She drew her beam rifle and shot two of the middle tanks, and the rest were upended or disabled in the resulting explosion. The tank drivers must have been brave, foolish or both to pick a fight with a mobile suit - she didn't care which, and moved off in search of other targets. Kuuro Konishi hadn't expected an attack like this from the Federation soldiers, but that wasn't going to stop him from contributing to the defense of the Zeon fleet. He'd been contracted, and he would fulfill his contract. As Federation missiles hammered the surprised Dobday, he launched the surprisingly-mobile Xamel. Spying a cluster of panicked-looking marines, he sent a 680mm artillery cannon round their way. Yes, it was overkill, but considering that Zeon was covering the cost of ammunition and repairs for this job, he judged it worth the pleasure of seeing 2 entire marines squads disappear before his eyes: Only a crater remained, when the dust had cleared. He'd use his missiles and vulcans next time; when you vaporized your enemy, there weren't any remains, and it almost seemed like you hadn't killed anyone at all. The Xamel zipped across the battlefield, dodging scattered beam rounds from the enemy GMs, searching for another target. All too soon, the battlefield grew quiet. Crackling fires and buzzing propulsion systems replaced the sounds of artillery and beam weapons as the last few Federation units were disposed of. Brennan, Persephone and Haifa were all disappointed; it was like getting all dressed up for a party, only to discover that the hosts had only ordered one pizza; sure, they'd all gotten a slice or two, but it had only whetted their hunger. The price for their victory had been small: A few of the ships had been a little banged up in the initial attack, and they'd lost a few units in the sortie. But, after the fleet had deployed its own units, the fight had ended relatively quickly, with little Zeon blood spilled. Brennan spat with disgust at a melted portion on his Gundam's right arm. He had been set upon by 3 GMs at once, and had been caught in the crossfire of their damn beam scattering guns. That he had killed all three soon after only added to his anger; it was wrong that his enemies could be so weak, and yet manage to inflict a wound. The arm still worked - the Zeon engineers were good - but the damage would have to be repaired - hopefully before the Assault on Jaburo. He glanced over at the Zaku II Manipulator Type, and was a little jealous that she'd gotten through the battle with only one manipulator arm damaged. The Zeon fleet continued on, almost as if nothing had happened, cutting a green swathe through Federation-controlled South America. Sebastian looked as the battlefield faded into the distance behind them. Nothing would stop them; surely, nothing could. Sebastian Brennan: 6 VP Gained, Repairing 2 Persephone Dawn: 6 VP Gained, Repairing 2 Haifa Hahnemuehle: 6 VP Gained, Repairing 2 Kuuro Konishi: 8 VP Gained, Repairing 2+1 Over the humm of engines and equipment a scottish voice cried out enthusiastically: "Something ye should know lass, is back in there Shetland Isles, the people of yore talked about mermen and merwomen." On the hangar floor of the Gray Phantom-class Orange Base, a small crowd began to gather near one of the mobile suit cages. A junior officer investigating the commotion, demanded to know what is going on. "We are entering the battle zone in three minutes!" he shouted," why aren't you people at your stations?!" "Oi," came a feminine voice from above. The junior officer looks up to see Miriam Bogoraz sitting ontop of her Guntank Assault. "Siggurdson is putting something together from the spare parts storage. Told the maintenance crew that it was for a secret mission in the upcoming battle." "A secret mission?" pondered the junior officer," what the hell-?" Then he saw it as Thorvald Siggurdson used the Blue Destiny to lift his newest creation: a mobile suit-sized fishing rod. Various equipment and mobile suit parts that were lying around the hangar bay now formed the fishing line, hook, and sinker. "Oh my god," sighed the junior officer," Lieutenant Ferdinand isn't going to like this at all." "Oych!" shouted Thorvald Siggurdson who is oblivious to his surroundings," dey say there be a world like ours beneath the sea... a world of people of beauty. Dey only stray up yonder through ancient magics. Dey become part of the skin of a swimming animal and visit us! Ha! Up here they walk like lads and lasses. But, if dey lose the skin, dey be trapped." Thorvald gave a knowing smile to Marion, who is listening intently. "Und dat is what we are going to do." Captain Marina Nimue of the Mad Angler-class Pendragon watched the sonar screen with the rest of her sonar crew. The 42nd Brigade had spent much of the day on the outer edge of their sensors. The SS officer had no idea why the 42nd Brigade is delaying their attack but she isn't going to complain about it. "Looked liked we casted off just in time," she muttered," all hands to battle stations. Get those damage control teams to their positions. Chief! I want countermeasures on my mark!" The protege of the deceased Xavier Brennan looked around the bridge. "Ships of Zeon, move out!" Like dark sea monsters, the submarines of the Schutzstaffel Tactical Fighting Unit burst from the ruined harbor of Rio de Janero. As soon as they cleared the harbor, the submarines began their descent towards deeper water. But for the next few minutes, the waters are shallow enough so that their propellors can be heard by every sonar buoy in the 42nd Brigade. "Sir, the GM Ground Sniper battery reports no visible targets." Lieutenant Nigel Ferdinand frowned. It is one thing to hunt down an enemy, but it is entirely another when that enemy isn't revealing themselves. "Alright, deploy mobile weapons into the ruins. Have the aircraft maintain air superiority as we move in. Get the Don Escargots to form a perimeter-" "Contact!" shouts a technican," we have sonar contact! High speed screws with rotations matching Jukons!" "Get our units out there! What's the delay?" "Sir... we're only operating with one catapault." "And why is that?" "It's Private Siggurdson sir." "He's supposed to be hunting for marine mobile suits." "Well, um, sir, er, Siggurdson is using the starboard catapault for... well, exactly that sir." "WHAT?!" As Tin Cods, Fly Mantas, and Jet Core Boosters circle the skies mobile suits of the 42nd Brigade descended onto the ruins of Rio de Janero. They searched the ruins but as expected, found nothing. The real fight is happening out to sea. Don Escargots swarmed over the surface of the ocean, dropping sonar buoys, torpedoes, and depth charges as often as possible. But Marina is ready for this. What little anti-air the STFU had was sent up as harassment fire against the low flying Don Escargots as Marina started her escape plan. As the submarines descended, countermeasures known as noisemakers are left behind in their wake. These noisemakers made cavitation disturbances in the water, much like what a propellor would do. Successive decoy waves of noisemakers thinned out the pressure of the Federal attack. Some ordinance however, did find themselves in the middle of the STFU fleet, causing additional damage to the scars they got when they flatten Rio de Janero. At the height of the battle, the sonar screens on both sides showed nothing but a giant clutter blotch of contacts. The waters are just too disturbed by the rapid attacks for the operators to isolate what was real. All they can do is sit and wait. By the time conditions became normal again, Marina and her ships were gone. A few more sweeps by Don Escargots confirmed this and the pitiful remains of Rio de Janero is back in Federal hands. Soldiers examining the ruins looked up to see a peculiar sight. A long line had been lowered from the Orange Base into the water. It was as if the flying assault carrier was being anchored like a naval ship. "But their chief lamentation was for Ollavitinus, the son of Gioga, who, having been stripped of his seal’s skin, would be for ever parted from his mates, and condemned to become an outcast inhabitant of the upper world...." "Siggurdson!" Thorvald stopped his retelling of the Fisherman and the Merman for a moment. The Blue Destiny is sitting on the edge of the starboard catapault ramp with its feet dangling over the side. Like a citizen fishing at the dockside, the EXAM unit held in its hands the makeshift fishing rod crafted by Thorvald. Through one visual screen Thorvald can see a group of Federal soldiers waving for him to come down. Unsure (and pretty much not giving a rat's ass) about what's going on, the Lutheran viking opened his cockpit and slid down. "What be busting up this place eh?" asked Thorvald," I have a mission to complete." "Not anymore you don't." Suddenly a pair of handcuffs is shackled to Thorvald's wrists. "You are under arrest." Thorvald Siggurdson - 5 VP Gained, Jailed 3 Nigel Ferdinand - 6 VP Gained, No Damage Kyle Slater - 1 VP Gained, No Damage Aurem Senaiha - 1 VP Gained, No Damage Cray Vermillion - 1 VP Gained, No Damage Alec Irusk - 1 VP Gained, No Damage Gil Krundel - 1 VP Gained, No Damage Esther MacKernan - 1 VP Gained, No Damage It wasn't the coldness of the void that bothered him. No, if anything that was an eternal comfort. It had been nearly a month since she'd died, the last vestige of his humanity, the last thing holding his broken frame together. Samuel finished his drink, one of the finest bottles of Jovian port. He'd been saving it for a special occasions, but it had dawned on him that he didn't deserve an occasion that was special anymore, and that made this day as good as any. Often these days, the impression of Riley was much greater than that of the actual man. Samuel had built his reputation, carefully, inch by inch stacking accomplishment after tall tale until he was, literally, larger than life. Rumors of his exploits abounded throughout the crews of all his ships, a fleet that was huge, even compared to many of the Earth Federation or Duchy of Zeons own. If he wanted, he could have singlehandedly destroyed Side 6. If he wanted. And therein lied the problem. There were few wants anymore. He was at the end of his rope. Samuel looked at the empty bottle, the red-black ichor drained from it, and it reminded him of too many things. He smashed the bottle against his bookcase, many lovingly cared for volumes rustling in response, a chorus that only served to madden the man further. He would give have given Dickens a piece of his mind, if a knock hadn't come at his cabin door. "Cap'n, much as I'd love to see you get yer beauty sleep for a change, we're almost there. You ready to put on the show?" It was Garcia, his slightly effeminate voice obvious. Garcia stood out amongst the rest of Rileys crew like a tulip sticking out of a pile of kindling. The door opened with a hiss, Riley fumbling out of it, dressed but not quite prepared in his pirate finery. He hobbled, as was his custom since the attack on the Monarch. Garcias eyes widened, and he scratched his well kempt hair, pulling at his bandana. "Why Captain, you look a mess. We can't have you look this way for your debut, it may be on tape." "Shut it Garcia." Riley rumbled, his voice sounding as if it had rolled off the back of a mountain. "Come on Captain. I know yer in a foul mood, but I won't tell a soul. Ye don't want the entire belt to see you this way." Garcia quickly slipped inside, making sure nobody had seen the captain before shutting the door. Riley gave him the best scowl he could muster, and then slumped down on his bed, wishing he had more drink. In the Krakens cargo bay, close to the main door, the remainder of the Martians sat, softly humming their prayers. There were only five of them now. The original team, hired by Riley at Amador, had been dwindled down by battle, although their skills had sharpened in turn. Riley had spoken to them a few nights before, assuring them that their tour of duty would end soon. Each had been paid a handsome sum, and they wanted to return to their families. If they did not, they would not be able to bring the coin back to Amador, which in the end, was the most important thing to them. None of them were murderers by heart, only by trade. Jacobin looked up at his comrades, steely blue eyes focusing on each. Without emotion, he reached into his back pocket, slipping out an old and slightly ragged photograph of his grandmother. Gram, the only family left to him. He would return to Mars, and the money he would bring would not only keep food on her table, but on the table of all the families whose brothers and husbands had died in the service of the Wraith. Conroy was not bitter, but he was homesick. He found it surprising that it was possible to long for a life that was so horrible. The Kraken suddenly lurched, decelerating rapidly, and a few deckhands were heard running and yelling down the halls. Jacobin put the photo back in his pocket, and the five long and lanky Martians gazed up at the ruckus. "Word is dey're talkin' to them now. It's even on interstellar Tee Vee!" One man shouted, fumbling for his set. Television had not disappeared in the Universal Century, although the days of satellite direct TV and thousands of channels were over and gone. It took several hours for a transmission to travel from Earth to the Asteroid Belt, and minovsky particles always filled newscasts with static. However, this broadcast was coming straight from Lighthouse Station, and could be heard loud and clear. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Rebecca Anders with the Lighthouse Evening News. The Black Rock Pirates have been captured by the 3rd AXIS reconnaissance fleet, on a mission in this sector of space. We have word that Samuel Riley is in custody, and is being brought to Lighthouse to be tried under a CMC court. He is wanted under interspheral law for three thousand and four counts of Murder, 9 counts of Piracy, and numerous other charges. He is to be tried and likely publically executed by a CMC Jury aboard Lighthouse Station." The screen quickly changed from a closeup of the reporter, to the shot of two Zeon ships slowly moving into Lighthouses primary ship dock, the room barely able to hold the girth of two Zanzibar II class battlecruisers. They touched down, looking like big brown monsters next to the stations lone interplanetary cargo ship. There was a small bit of static, and then the screen changed again to a camera feed of the ships cellblock. Two guards in Zeon uniform were holding Samuel Riley and Robin Sayer hostage, the two visibly shaken and beat up. "And there you have them, the infamous pirates Robin Sayer and Samuel Riley" Anders reported. "And, wait, this just in... We're getting a priority message from AXIS, there is a bit of a delay..." The screen turned back to Rebecca, reporting from an office deep within Lighthouse. She looked confused for a moment, and then worried, and then frightened. "We... We've just gotten word from Zeon officials... There is no such thing as the 3rd AXIS Reconnaissance fleet.." The atmosphere inside the hangar bay suddenly became much thicker, as maintenance crews heard the news and stopped in their tracks. The cargo doors to the two Zanzibars opened up, only to reveal Jacobin Conroy, the rest of the martian Freemen, and dozens of armed pirates, eyeing long forgotten prey. While last time Riley had underestimated the defenses of the CMC base, this time the station would fall in a matter of minutes. The gigantic Black Rock Pirate fleet loomed into view on sensor screens, officials neglecting to even launch fighters, while the base was quickly overrun from the inside by the Martian onslaught. Robin Sayer - 6 VP, 3 CP Gained, Injured 1 Samuel Riley - 6 VP, 3 CP Gained, Injured 1 Jacobin Conroy - 6 CP Gained, Injured 2 James Radcliffe - 6 VP Gained, Repairing 1+1 |