|
A noose had been tied around the Terrestrial Assault Force's throat and the Federation was holding it high until every last breath was drawn from its body. Forces were combing the globe for the invader's presence, and everywhere it was found, the Zabi's soldiers were soundly eradicated. Even now a motley assortment of forces were heading for the final strongholds; one composed of the Federation forces united under the banner of the 87th and the other of rogues looking for liberation in Africa. They were veterans of countless battles, and with victory so close, it was quite the wonder that Zeon continued their struggle at all. On the Pendragon though there was no room for doubt. They were amongst the last vessels to bear the Zeonic insignia and they had a resolve that would not wither even if they were the only ones left. To confuse their resolve with blindness, however, was utter folly. They were amongst Ghiren's best and they would not be felled easily as the Din quickly discovered. The Medea and its gunships had been prowling the depths for hours before even catching a glimpse of their target. Each pilot scrambled to close the net on their enormous prey, and if it had been any other vessel, they very well may have succeeded. Instead their depth charges, torpedoes, and sensor buoys largely amounted to nothing in the end. Marina's vessel dove beneath the depths and before long the hunt began again. The Din's pilots were largely fine with this. It was only a matter of time. The Zeon camp was relatively quiet, as a few Zakus came out to meet the wounded Avalon, which limped into one of the bays that hugged the peninsula where Vladivostok was located. Large chunks of ice floated past the wounded ship, and she took care to avoid them; the ship was in no shape to break through the ice. A few of the Zakus broke up the larger chunks with their machineguns, allowing the Avalon a relatively clear path into the harbor. Alec Irusk shivered as he pushed the Z'Gog E out of the water, leaping gracefully and gratefully onto solid ground. The sooner he left the water, the sooner he could get inside where it was warm. The mobile suit, of course, was climate-controlled, but the icy water of the East Arctic had chilled him and his mobile suit to the bone; they were unused to such extreme temperatures, and operated at decreased efficiency because of it. He eyed the Siberian installation, sizing it up. Russia was an inhospitable place to live, but it was even harder to assault. The driving winds, coupled with the sub-zero temperatures and icy surfaces made fielding an effective attack force almost impossible. Still, the Federation was going to try, it seemed. They had massed a not inconsequential force outside, and were knocking on their proverbial door. Alec had heard about the recent fall of Baikonour and Mexico city to Federation forces; the news had left him disappointed, but his resolve had not faltered. The Federation march may be steady, but they would stop their enemy here, as Russia had Germany, so long before. Tony Knight eyed the frozen mobile suit outside, watched it struggle to begin moving in the freezing weather. Fighting was going to be fierce. The Zeon presence on Earth had grown as brittle as the icicles hanging outside, and hung by just as little. Every day brought word of another Earth base melting in the face of the Federation warm front. Resources were being pulled into space, to aid in the defense of Zeon's last stronghold, and their Earth forces were left mostly to fend for themselves. Tony had worked hard in the Federation. He had risen above his own limitations, personality and fears, to become a man his father would be proud of - a man that Zeon could be proud of. He still wasn't certain that he was proud of himself, given the current state of things, but they had fought hard, damnit! He'd be damned before surrendering. This base was more formidable than the others the Federation had worn down, and it was defended by men who had little to lose. He got up to welcome the remnants of what had once been the STFU, bracing himself for the coming cold. Gilgamos smiled tiredly as he entered, holding the door open for his brethren behind him. Tony was a friendly face in unfriendly circumstances, and he had enjoyed the times they'd had together, even though he was having a bit of trouble pinning down the details, at the moment. He nodded and smiled at Akira Sasaki, who was bringing up the rear of the column of frozen men, and she shot him a look that sent him shivering, in spite of the warm inside environment. He wondered if he had done something to hurt her once? Perhaps she was a jilted lover? He could not recall. A pity there was a battle to be fought here. Otherwise, a night knocking back warm drinks in the company of his fellow soldiers would be just the ticket. The Federation had no such comforts to look forward to. The makeshift tents, the best the Federation could provide, gave little warmth to the soldiers huddled inside them. Fires were forbidden, but giant space heaters had been among the supplies they'd dragged across the endless tundra. Most of the men preferred the tents to the solitude of their mobile suits, and many gathered in the small enclosures, seeking shelter from the harsh environment, and solace in the company of their companions. Edmund Blackadder, Thierry Mersault and Aaron McCaskey shared a tent with ten other men, discussing how much - or how little - the war had changed them. They sensed that it was nearing its end, and the feeling sparked this kind of discussion often, it seemed. The three men were mostly of the opinion that the war had changed them little. Their piloting skills had grown, of course, but they were still essentially the same. The war raged outside of them, not inside, after all. The siege would be difficult - that much was expected - but the cold dampened the spirits of the men. Aaron spent the remainder of the evening preoccupied with how to lighten their spirits, while Thierry and Edmund blended in with the rest of the pilots, discussing the topic at hand. The Federation camp appeared silent. A few men scampered quickly between the tents, and a few mobile suits patrolled the perimeter, cursing their bad luck as they moved in chilly cockpits, trying to keep their mobile suits' joints from freezing over. The siege of Vladivostok had begun. Edmund Blackadder: 1 VP Gained, No Damage Thierry Mersault: 1 VP Gained, No Damage Aaron McCaskey: 1 VP Gained, No Damage Alec Irusk: 1 VP Gained, No Damage Gilgamos Uruk: 1 VP Gained, No Damage Akira Sasaki: 1 VP Gained, No Damage Tony Knight: 1 VP Gained, No Damage |