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They saw nothing but blue water for most of their trip. Oh and clouds. Maybe the occasional bird. But the sight of land brought a cheer to the men and women of the 42nd Brigade. The three lumbering Medeas made landfall with their Tin Cod escorts some time around noon in North Africa. Despite the daylight, they were confident that their passage into the continent will go unnoticed. "Coffee, Frank?" "Wished it was iced. Thanks." The 6th Saharan Armored patrol had set up camp in this position the day before. A pair of Magella Attack tanks are actually moving about. Everyone else is trying to keep cool under some shade. Some of them are watching electronic sensor equipment, as futile as that is with Minovsky Particle interference. Some others are studying the horizon with binoculars. "Hey sarge, what's that to the west?" Onboard the Medea Benedictus, Cray Vermillion and his driver Ion Bossa-Nova watched the spectacle in the hangar. Perched on their Type 61, which is bolted to the planes floor, they watch Nigel Ferdinand play with Jojo the monkey. The aristocrat-to-be is trying to get the little South American primate to pose with a rifle. Commander Joe Dzurik looks on and sighs to himself. In a similarly equipped listening post some distance away, a Zeon technician pays close attention to the voice in his headset. He scribbles some numbers on a pad of paper. The radioman tears the top sheet off and hands it to his officer, who reads the message quickly. "Okay you people! Targets are coming in bearing 0345 range ten kilometers!" he shouts at his air crews," three Federal Medeas with fighter escort! Let's take them low and slow. Get those birds spun up!" Within a few minutes, camo netting is pulled back to reveal five Zeon Gunship Helis. Soon, their dual contra-rotating blades lifts the helicopters off the ground as their experienced pilots went into an attack formation. Even with the powerful vibration from the Medea's engines, Jack Verse manages to keep his poker game with the Flying Dutchman's crew going pretty well. He's ahead by five bucks. Away from the group of cardplayers, a very thin girl quietly watches. Jay Tessa plays with her fingers, as she listens in on the poker game. It was much more comfortable for the men flying in the air conditioned confines of the 4th North African Air Patrol than the troops based on the ground below. The two listening posts in North Africa traded what they knew with the Luggun's crew. In a short amount of time, all six of the high performance Dopp fighters did a banking turn towards the 42nd Brigade's fleet of Medeas. As unlikely as it was, Thorvald Siggurdson's snoring is louder than the roar of the Dignity's engines. The test pilot is napping on the blue armor of the Blue Destiny mobile suit. Fluffy dreams about playful nude women plays in his mind as he sleeps his way through the flight. Jim Irwin's butt hurts. He's been sitting in the same seat, in the same formation, and pretty much the same posture for HOURS. For perhaps the thousandth time, he looks to his left and right to make sure the rest of the Tin Cods are there. Sure enough, in addition to his squadron of Tin Cods is the wing of escorting fighters belonging to the 42nd Brigade. A particularly lively conversation about baseball amongst the Dish's crew is interrupted by a high pitched warning. Snapping back to their duties, the Federal technicians scan the readings on their screens. "Dopps! We got six boogies incoming! Get those Tin Cods rolling!" Jim Irwin curses into his helmet as he points the nose of his fighter towards the little dots on the horizon. There they are, about ten seconds out. The Dopps are superior than the Tin Cod in every regard except loitering time. On cue, the ten Tin Cods let loose with their long range missiles before punching in the afterburner to buy time for the Medeas. The people on board the Benedictus were nearly thrown to their feet as the Medea lowers in altitude. Ferdinand bursts into the cockpit with Jojo clinging to his left leg. "What's going on?!" he demanded from the flight crew. "Zeon fighters! We'll lowering our altitude to give us distance between them and the Tin Cods!" Ferdinand's blood turns ice cold as the Benedictus leads the way down below the clouds. The 6th Saharan Armored patrol is on the move when the 42nd Brigade broke from the clouds. The Zeon soldiers, riding on Weasels or sitting in the Magella Attack Tanks, stared at the enormous cargo planes for a minute. Then as one they mounted their heavy machine guns and started blasting. The plinking sound of weapons fire off the hull caught everyone's attention. On the Benedictus, Flying Dutchman, and Dignity people took cover away from the windows. The flight crews saw the Zeon force on the ground and immediately came to the same conclusion. With experienced hands, the Medeas stopped their descent. They leveled out in preparation to gain altitude again when the Dish aircraft started shouting excitedly. The Iraqi Air Patrol made its entrance at that moment. Normally the Gunship Helis are made for ground suppression and can't reach high flying Medeas and Tin Cods. But the evading transport planes are within their agile range now. Missiles left their holding racks from the five Gunship Helis. Some of them miss but a volley of them struck the Benedictus. Being in a plane rocked by a missile hit is not fun, as Ferdinand was learning. He was screaming at the top of his lungs and so was Jojo the monkey. Commander Dzurik caught a hold of Ferdinand as the Flight Crew starts yelling at him. "Number Four engine is dead! The rest are running at 80 percent!" Suddenly two Dopps flew below the clouds and raked the Flying Dutchman with their 20mm vulcan guns. The second Dopp lets loose with its missile launchers and the Flying Dutchman is in the same boat as the Benedictus. "Get us out of here now!" demands Nigel Ferdinand, in his usual bid for safety," turn us around and get us out of here!" "You heard him!" barks Commander Dzurik," get us back over the Atlantic Ocean pronto!" Irwin grits his teeth as he fought to bring the stream of 25mm rounds as close enough as possible to the Dopp. Suddenly he connects and the Zeon fighter goes spiraling towards the ground. Satisfied, Irwin turns back to see where the others are. He can spot what was left of the Tin Cod flight engaged with the Dopps. Then he saw the smoking trails of the Medeas and punched in the afterburner again. What happen for the rest of the battle was a narrow stroke of luck for the 42nd Brigade. They quickly outdistanced the 6th Saharan Armored patrol on the ground. The appearance of Tin Cods also drove the experienced Gunship Heli pilots of the Iraqi Air Patrol into evasive maneuvers away from the battlefield. No matter how good you are, a helicopter versus a jet is a bad thing. The rest of the surviving Dopps of the 4th North African Air Patrol pursued the 42nd Brigade as far as the ocean but the limited flying time of the Zeon fighter forces them to back off. The Federal force will need to find another way into Africa. Nigel Ferdinand - 6 VP gained, Benedictus Damaged Jim Irwin - 6 VP gained, Repairing 2 Cray Vermillion - 1 VP gained, no damage Jack Verse - 1 VP gained, no damage Jay Tessa - 1 VP gained, no damage Thorvald Siggurdson - 1 VP gained, no damage |