Science Fiction The Future: Old Premise. New War, 2219.

IC: 2nd Lt. Brian Engelhardt
Location: Maintenance Bay, Ararat Valley base
Time: 1250

A line of bullets stitched up the side of his tank, travelling from the tracks up the side of the Turret. Engelhardt ducked down just as one spanged off the cupola. Too close. He counted to five, and launched himself out of the turret, and rolled down the back before sliding off the back of the tank.

The marines had deployed into covering positions, another enemy unit had made planetfall and was trying to force their way in. A merry little firefight had ensued between the enemy (Whom he'd learned were Aryans from some backwater colony) and the Marines. He looked around until he saw who seemed to be in charge. He counted to three and sprinted out, half crouched over. He slid as though he were closing in on home base, coming to rest behind a prime mover, where the command squad of the marines was situated.

The Marines glanced over at him, wondering what in hell this crazy Tanker was doing out here with the infantry instead of safe inside his Steel Beast. Then they got back to shooting.

"2nd LT Brian Engelhardt, Second Platoon, Company D. Which one of you is Sigma?"

Sigma let off a ripping burst from his rifle. The other men in his squad stacked up on him. Equally abruptly, they ceased fire and pulled behind the Prime Mover as volleys of return fire pattered off the metal frame.

"Go ahead Lieutenant." Sigma shouted as he changed a magazine with perfect economy of motion. And speed. He was damned fast.

"Sergeant, it's gonna take us 20 minutes to get combat loaded and into this fight. Many of these vehicles..." He shrank for a moment at an explosion that peppered them with bits of concrete. "...Many of these vehicles were in a state of repair. We've got to do our emergency predrive checks and load up the ammo under fire. You and your men are gonna have to buy us time to do that."

Sigma shot him a look.Underneath the stressed, professional exterior, Engelhardt was sure he detected a lick of disgust. Disgust for the p****** who hid behind meter-thick metal, and then whined that they needed time to fix their expensive toys.

"I promise you sergeant, we'll make it up to you." Engelhardt said, trying his best to look sincere and tough despite that his bowels were nearly squirting.

TAG: Vangarian

 

LPC: As Captain Eric Woods, commanding officer, CCS Confederate (CB-59)
Location: Zion orbit.
Date/Time: Around 13.45, Thursday, 30 September 2219

"I Think They Make a Medal For That"

Ships like the Confederate didn't just run away, and Captain Woods was quite aware of this. And he wasn't just running away. A bead of sweat trickled down his cheek as he drew out a maneuver that would force his way into every Academy textbook from now until 2552. He uploaded the file into his navigator's computer, who turned and eyed his commanding officer wearily.

"Give me two hundred percent from the engines. Prepare to execute maneuver on my mark. Also, I need manual control of the underside chaff launchers.

"Aye, sir. Calculating your parameters." A pause. "Will this work, sir?"

"Their ships don't like fusion detonations."

"Both ships have fired torpedoes. They are attempting to match our velocity. Eight thousand kilometers."

Perfect.

"Execute turn! Ready firing solutions!"

The hull popped and groaned geriatrically as Confederate pulled a max-sublight turn, burning an arc through space to face her enemy head-on. The two dreadnoughts, not so fearsome to Captain Woods after seeing one destroyed, bore down on him, glowing with fury. He leaned forward, nose-to-nose with the two ships on his tactical display. They were closing at nearly the lightspeed threshold, growing in front of him at a rate that frightened him more than their charging energy projectors, or the gunship-sized torpedoes that were following him.

He jabbed his finger at his display. "Fire!"

The sum of all the rage and hate in the entire system spat from the four cannons. Thunder pounded through the hull. Rounds impacted on target, punching holes in the armor of both enemy ships. Even as the impacts smeared the hull of his ship with fire and chunks of armor, Captain Woods had his hand on the chaff launcher, waiting for just. . .the. . .right. . .now! He hit the chaff at the perfect moment, and the torpedo-spoofing shower filled the holes in the port-side dreadnought like medgel sealing a gunshot wound.

Exactly as he planned, one of the torpedoes made an almost ninety-degree turn. . .directly into the sparkling chaff that was now inside the dreadnought. Its hull inflated like an obscene balloon, then popped, decapitating the vessel. Still being carried forward by its momentum, the remaining two-thirds of the ship powered into the hellish fireball and came out the other end charred and glowing. The second torpedo lazily drove itself into the fire and impacted the engine baffles, igniting the reactors and consuming the remainder of the dreadnought in fusion hell. Confederate barely shuddered. On the bottom left-hand corner of his display, the second dreadnought, visibly scorched by the destruction of her wingman, was slowly coming about, its demonic seven kilometers of presence eclipsing the distant Zion.

"Bring us up and over, on top of that ship. Ready another salvo."

The scalpel-like beam of the energy projector sliced through space where his ship had just been. All manner of lesser plasma cannons lit up and set fire to space in vain. Confederate flipped onto her end and dropped like a falling kitchen knife, targeting systems finding a place to sever the dreadnought's spine.

"Can you call for help?" Captain Woods said softly to the deathly-black ship. "Let's see how tough you are without the rest of your fleet. Fire."

Explosions blossomed along the dreadnought's dorsal section around amidships, consuming her communications antenna and any backups it may have had. Confederate made an oblique turn, rushing over the enemy vessel with only kilometers to spare, turning back and racing toward the planet.

"Come and get me."

 

IC: New Jerusalem Port Authority, Commander Mitchel W. Sullest, LPC, Lieutenant Commander Sharon B. Tanisla, LPC Fire Control Officer 1st Lieutenant Dirk Benning and Communications Officer Lt. Judith Pearce.

Location: Zion orbit.
Date/Time: Around 13:50, Thursday, 30 September 2219.

The battle continued all around Traveler's Rest far and near. Commander Sullest's order to scan the enemy ships for weaknesses was not being taken lightly as Lieutenant Commander Sharon B. Tanisla was dutifully carrying that order out with great alacrity. Her only problem was that she had been choosing ships that didn't last very long in the ensuing battle over Zion's Sphere. First one Dreadnought then another just went to fiery pieces, literally. Sharon reset after the second EMP from the ongoing battle, this one a bit more distant resulting from the enemy Dreadnought's own missile's hitting home where they'd come from initially. Scanning resumed this time on the latest Dreadnought. Confederate was raking it like a Bobcat running over the back of an old blood hound, leaving a trail of damage behind where it had passed. The Dreadnought reoriented to follow Confederate as it dived towards Zion's atmosphere. Tanisla had a new area to concentrate on as the behemoth came about in pursuit of Confederate. Energy conveying pathways began to resolve in the imaging of the Aryan monster. She'd found a sweet spot behind Aryan's midships region it wasn't part of the torch drive but rather involved its Alternate Space Motivator Coil Assembly. Sharon smiled as she passed the information along to Fire control officer Lieutenant Benning.

"Sir, I've got jackpot. Feeding that sweet spot you ordered me to find earlier to Fire control," she said.

Very good, number one. Fire control adjust for our coming window of opportunity target that sweet spot provided to you Commander, Tanisla," spoke Sullest.

"Aye,sir. Loading with penetrators. Targeting on the sweet spot...Standing by," he answered.

The Aryan Dreadnought by now had swung about and was in full pursuit of the Confederate which was still doing what it had been doing several seconds earlier. It was diving towards Zion's atmosphere! Confederate was baiting it to come after her. If the Aryan Captain of that ship was like those that commanded the other two it might just take the bait to the point of no return. Seconds ticked by...the Aryan was still in pursuit. It wasn't going to break off.

"Com. Warn off the Gunships that we're targeting the Aryan Dreadnought and to stay clear of the line of fire," he ordered.

"Aye, Sir, They're staying clear," responded Lieutenant Pearce.

"Lieutenant, Benning. Fire!"

"Firing," called Benning as the Traveler's rest bucked from all six of the lower MACs discharging their respective loads in unison. Down streaked six tungsten spears with internal expanders loaded with mercury. They hit with such pyrotechnics that it looked like a fire works display. Reds, greens, golds and purples registered on the visual displays at the points of impact all six hit the sweet spot called for by Commander Sullest. The MACs reloaded in a hurry. Benning knew he could get away with this once, but no more as he fired again. He fired this time with a mix of three penetrators and three HE rounds, all pointed again at the sweet spot. Again they all hit with pyrotechnic results! This time there was substantial damage registering on the scanners as Tanisla intensified the sweep for details.

"Sir. We've hit pay dirt. Scans show their FTL drive is severed from the main power feed," said Lieutenant Tanisla.

"No escape for them if it drops in the pot," said Sullest.

The Commander smiled. That might do the trick, he thought to himself.

"Com. Inform the Confederate that the pursuing Dreadnought is without FTL,"

"Aye,sir." responded Lieutenant Pearce.

"Make preparations for emergency disconnection of Traveler's Rest from the Bean Stalk. Our uninvited guests won't take kindly to us continuing to use this civilian facility as a war installation. Com warn ground side that the B

 

LPC: As Captain Eric Woods, commanding officer, CCS Confederate (CB-59)
Location: Upper atmosphere of Zion, above Mehoz Yerusalayim
Date/Time: 13.57, Thursday, 30 September 2219

"Exit, Stage Left"

Confederate plunged into the upper atmosphere of Zion, closely pursued by the evil dreadnought, now heavily damaged from MAC fire from both it and the Travellers Rest space station. The latter had taken out its FTL drive and slowed it down, but there was no slowing down gravity. It pulled both massive vessels downward into the atmosphere, turning them into giant meteors that burned paths across the sky.

"Polarize the viewscreen," Captain Woods ordered. "Prepare the event horizon. I'll find us a way out."

"To where, sir?"

"Anywhere but here."

The event horizon software booted on his viewer. As expected, it was severely distorted and all but collapsed by the gravity of the planet. He had to find a hole in this tangle and nudge it until it was just big enough to admit his battle cruiser into the alternate stream. It was a taller order than it looked. He didn't want to think of what would happen if it failed. Meanwhile, the dreadnought fired its energy projector. But instead of slicing the battle cruiser's engines off, the plasma destabilized and turned into an electric-blue cloud that splashed all over the pursuing vessel's hull, leaving it glowing white-hot.

But it kept coming.

"Engine temperature approaching critical. Approaching point of no return in twenty-five seconds."

And then he saw it, a rolling, chaotic slit in the ruined event horizon, a few hundred kilometers ahead. With some difficulty, he selected it and started feeding the computer the necessary calculations. Not the most optimal course he could've taken, but that was as good as it was going to get. Time for a discreet exit.

"Ready all ventral emergency thrusters. Prepare to fire on my mark."

A bead of sweat ran down his forehead, to his cheek, down the side of his chin, disappearing somewhere on his uniform. Ten seconds to no return. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One!

"NOW!"

The chemicals that composed the thirty-six ventral thrusters mixed with explosive results, forcing his head down as the ship blasted up just enough. When he was finally able to look up, the sky split like a knife through a tapestry. Clouds and lightning formed a wreath around the singularity that now appeared in front his ship. He was staring into the alternate stream. The gravitational forces, combined with her forward momentum, tugged Confederate into it, swallowing her up and collapsing with a thunderclap.

They made it.

The dreadnought, meanwhile, was not so lucky. Glowing white-hot and out of control, it plowed through the resultant EMP wave and dived into the ground, tearing several mountains in half and disappearing into a hurricane of dust, rock, and fire.

 

IC: As CAMF Marine Corp. Sargent Rho Sigma and his Howling Recon Commandos. With assorted LPCs

Location: Five hundred meters from Fire Base Charlie at the other end of the hidden access tunnel, outside of
abandoned military styled bunker.

Time/Date: 13:55, September, 30, 2219.

They were under fire again. This time from returning units of Aryan troops that had been sent out to round up any stragglers from the outskirts of Fire Base Charlie. Had it not been for Corporal Terrance Gig, on watch back at the fire base armory's network security monitor, they'd have been in the same situation as they had placed the Aryans in earlier. The Tank crews were having to finish the loading up of fuel, ammo, equipment and fresh parts as best they could while Rho's Platoon fought valiantly against a persistent enemy that was hell bent on taking them down. Those tankers that had finished loading, were buttoned down and joining in the fight against the Aryan threat, while other's were pinned down waiting-in the now nearly full-abandoned bunker or under one of several tanks for protection, so they could like-wise finish up and join in the fight too. Turrets started swiveling about seeking enemy targets to acquire. Soon one tank's cannon spoke a loud rebuttal, then another, followed by still more. This taking place, not a moment too soon as by now the Aryans had nearly finished setting up mortar teams to decimate the fire base tank crews. More were approaching in LPCs from where there had been numerous arrivals of super heavy combat transports loaded with fresh troops disembarking from one or more of them.

"That's it catch them in the cross fire!" yelled Rho in his mic as a tank's chain gun sprayed tracers down range at a cluster of Aryan vehicles that were more bold than wise for having left their cover to dash to another depression out of sight of the tanker's guns. Boom. A tank round had fired catching one of the Aryan vehicles low in its frame, sending it up and over onto its roof, hard with a crash. Another cannon fired sending a heavy round slamming into the lead vehicle before it could make the depression in time to evade. The HE round obliterated it scattering its parts all over the field. That was the break they were looking for as more tankers finished off their loading assignment and dived into their steel coffins. More turrets began swiveling about to search and destroy the enemy. They were moving now with purpose and synchronized order. More and more of them surged ahead forming up into battle positions. Sensing the tide turning against them the Aryan forces withdrew seeking whatever cover the terrain could provide for them as they left the field of battle in the hands of the CAMF tanks.

"Ooorah!" yelled Rho.

"Ooorah!" echoed his platoon.

Just then two fireballs traced across the sky heading outwards from Jerusalem's center. One was the Confederate while the other was an Aryan dreadnought. Both were traveling at a dizzying rate of decent. It looked as though both would soon be victims to gravity's siren call. Then just as suddenly as they had appeared, the Confederate popped out of existence, its fiery tail ceasing to be anymore. The dreadnought continued on its downward plunge as the sonic boom of the Confederate's FTL departure mocked it. It slammed into a set of mountains bleeding off its kinetic energy with self destruction.

Tag: Deiskrad, Sanc anyone else.

 

IC: 2nd Lt. Brian Engelhardt
Location: Maintenance bay, Ararat base
Time: 13:55

"C'mon! Quickly!" Engelhardt snatched the Tank shell with adrenaline addled hands. He passed the awkward cylinder to his gunner who slid it into the autoloader.

"Come on! Faster!" He was nearly hoarse from yelling over the roar of the fire fight. That and the cordite.

He hated this. Hated being exposed in the cupola, handing shells down to his gunner. But at least he could drop down into the turret if they started shooting at him. The poor mechanic handing him the shells had no such option. He did just that, reflexively, as a couple of stray rounds tapped off the turret. More and more they were shooting at him, the enemy knowing that if the tanks got in the fight, they'd have it a lot worse.

He seized another main gun round and it slipped out of his hands to clatter to the deck below. He let loose an oath, and the mechanic looked at him in disgust, handing him another. This one was passed down to Virastyuk without incident.

"I need 35mm! You got any of that?" It was getting hotter by the second, and even if they weren't fully loaded, he wanted to set off in order to drive away the enemy. They wouldn't need a full load to fight off some straight-leg infantry. And afterwards, they could return to load up the rest of the way. The Mechanic ducked under a burst of assault rifle rounds. After a few seconds, he rose again with a heavy bandolier of 35 mil. Engelhardt took it and fed it down into the turret like a long metal worm. He could feel it tug and jerk as Virastyuk fed it into the 30mm chain gun.

"Be right back. Take cover!" he told the mechanic.

Engelhardt dropped into the turret and seized manual control of the 35mm cannon. He could easily have ordered the AI to engage the enemy, but he was angry and wanted to do this himself. He gazed into the electronic tactical display as the AI careted identified targets, probably targets and friendlies. The threat level elevated significantly on one enemy squad that had taken refuge behind some craggy boulders. The AI had deduced that they were setting up a crew-served ATGM.

Engelhardt sighted on them. The fire control computer chimed an instant later with a firing solution, and he jammed his thumbs down in the spade triggers.

The grips trembled as the rotary cannon spoke. an instant later his display of the enemy squad was obscured by a series of HE explosions as the 35mm shells found their mark downrange. He let up after a 2 second burst. The careted targets were no more, save for one sorely wounded man who attempted to crawl to safety. He'd bleed out in another minute or so. The threat level dropped as the Aryan soldiers stopped shooting as much to keep from drawing the tank's attention.

Engelhardt stood up in the turret and yelled over the side at the mechanic.

"They'll back off now. Let's get this finished." The mechanic nodded with obvious relief, and he muscled a box of .50 cal towards Engelhardt.

TAG: Vang, Sanc, etc.

 

IC: As Fireman Apprentice Andrew Issigonis
Location: New Jerusalem, Mehoz Yerushalayim, Zion
Date/Time: 14.14, Thursday, 30 September 2219

". . .I Lied. We're Screwed"

Apparently, the side effect of opening an alternate-stream entrance inside a planet's atmosphere was rain. Rain wasn't a common occurrence on Zion, at least not this time of year, but there it was, pouring thickly from angry grey clouds that bristled with lightning. Even if the relief from the heat was nice, impending doom had fallen over the city with the rain. With the bright trinary sunlight now dimmed by thick clouds, every scar and every fire on every building suddenly stuck out and the realization that everything had just gone down the toilet was just hitting them.

They were screwed.

Issigonis discarded his spent drum magazine and slid in a run-of-the-mill forty-two-rounder he borrowed from another Lifesaver. That was another sign things were going south. It was a short, but harsh firefight that seized control of the synagogue and eventually secured the entire central plaza. Now the entire thing was pretty much on fire. Then their last best hope in space decided to show the entire district how screwed they were by jumping ship and leaving them behind. That was followed up by a general COM that the space station was detaching from the tether and advised everyone to get clear. So, they fell back to the wrecked lobby of the Infinity Ward Tower and there they waited while every air asset in the district ran around evacuating civilians.

And now it was raining.

He leaned against the cracked marble flower box that made up the railing on the upper walkway of the lobby and looked out at what he could see of the dying city. He remembered the building with the Hebrew characters along its spine, gushing flame about a third of the way up. It was now noticeably leaning. For the past thirty minutes there had been a steady flow of dropships coming and going from several landing pads on the higher levels, rescuing the likely thousands of people trapped in there. Several other skyscrapers stood pockmarked with impacts that carved patterns from top to bottom. Lightning occasionally raked the taller ones, rolling thunder over the depressing scene. A lower-case building in the distance distorted and collapsed, the ground trembling slightly to mark its passage.

"All CAMF air assets, this is Lima-Sierra-Sierra requesting ETA for evac."

"Lima-Sierra-Sierra, this is November Four-Five, we've got more evacuees than we know what to do with right now. When we can get a minute, we'll come to you, over,"

"Roger, November Four-Five."

"I have a fix on your position, Lima-Sierra-Sierra, I'll be there, over."

"Good to hear, November Four-Five. Out."

Issigonis sighed and leaned his head against the glass. Just then, there was a metallic grinding noise followed by a massive sound of thunder. The Hebrew-characters building had snapped at the point where it was burning and was going down, taking the evac birds down with it. Some were able to power up just in time and escape, but others were lifted bodily and slammed into the facade, going down in flames along with the tower. It couldn't have been more than ten seconds before the entire kilometer-high tower had disappeared from the skyline, becoming a massive cloud of dust and debris that consumed the surrounding streets. When the rumble in the ground stopped, he realized he was standing up, his heart racing. The COM swam with frantic status calls and distress calls from units begging to be rescued from the dust storm and having to be told, to their disappointment, that they had to wait.

It did not bode well.

He took his helmet off and sat back down, pained this time. He dropped it on the ground beside him, letting it roll away as he stared at his feet. They were so screwed right now. All manner of thoughts raced through his head. Was he going to die here? No, that was too obvious of a question. How was he going to die here? Every guy joined up with thoughts of valor and glory in their head, no matt

 

Date Posted: 12/16 7:00pm Subject: The Future: Old Premise. New War, 2219.
IC: New Jerusalem Port Authority, Commander Mitchel W. Sullest, LPC, Lieutenant Commander Sharon B. Tanisla, LPC Fire Control Officer 1st Lieutenant Dirk Benning and Communications Officer Lt. Judith Pearce.

Location: Zion Geosynchronous Orbit.
Date/Time: Around 14:20, Thursday, 30 September 2219.

It was looking bad for the Home Fleet. Few ships if any were operational those that were, were limping to the far side of Zion to lick their wounds and possibly regroup for a last ditch effort if there was enough of them. In any event, Sullest doubted there were enough of them to make a difference anymore. The Gunships were nearly all taken out as well, except a few that were now acting as atmospheric fighters helping with harassing small Aryan ground assault ships that came in with the first wave of Super Heavy Combat shuttles.

Meanwhile it was controlled chaos within the Traveler's Rest as preparations were being made to severe the umbilical upon command when the time had finally come.

Lt. Judith Pearce was leaning over her console studying the readings from it. The Aryan Fleet must have all successfully rebooted their electronics by now as they were signalling back and forth in earnest. She forwarded a Need To Know or NTK to Commander Sullest and Lieutenant Commander Tanisla.

Sullest noting the increase in communications traffic amongst the Aryan Fleet turned the array of scanners in the direction of the enemy chatter. Soon it was apparent that they were moving towards a rallying point, well outside any capital ship's MAC range, let alone their's. Then they'd be making their next move. But to what effect.

In the game of chess one had to clear the board of the opponent's game pieces in order to acquire his king. They'd all but wiped out every ship they had available to defend the system except the few on the far side of the planet. Even they weren't ready to face the howling hoard that was gathering for a second go at New Zion. Orbital view showed him that the battle had in some instances been equalized by the station's MACs. Two of the Aryan Combat Transports that had been taken out while attempting to land on the surface below with the Station's Mini MACs had been carrying heavy combat vehicles in great quantity. The wreckage from these Shuttles confirmed this. If they chose to clear out their troops from further combat, that would be the final clue as to what they intended for the City below and any other valuable targets.

"Communications! Get me Major General Weyoun. I'll need to download an update to him Stat," said Sullest.

Tag: Sanctimoniously and Deiskrad.

 

IC: As CAMF Marine Corp. Sargent Rho Sigma and his Howling Recon Commandos. With assorted LPCs

Location: Five hundred meters from Fire Base Charlie at the other end of the hidden access tunnel, outside of
abandoned military styled bunker.

Time/Date: 13:57, September, 30, 2219.

Sargent Rho and his men mounted up in their CATVs to press the advantage gained by them, the Tanks that were present with them near the abandoned bunker and the arming tank crews that were still back at the Tank Maintenance Shop nearby at Fire Base Charlie. Some Aryan Goose steppers had circled around and were taking pot shots at the tankers back there. Not on my watch! He fumed within.

"There over by that stand of trees they've got a sniper rifle getting set up to take out crew members and their maintenance personnel! Ziggy take that turnip out of my war!" yelled Rho in his mic.

Corporal Siegfried 'Ziggy' Keller swung his high powered MG around and brought it on the unfortunate recipients of Rho's notice. The Gun spoke its rebuke with a three round burst. One of the shooters clutched at his throat gagging on his own blood as it trickled down the inside of his esophagus causing him to cough uncontrollably. His team mate was even less fortunate and was slumped over upon his now ruined sniper rifle. Damaged by the third MG round that Ziggy had fired.

"Let's flush some more Goose steppers!" he hollered as they gunned their engines and began zig zagging across the field between the two collections of tanks now earnestly rearming and refueling for the fight of their lives. "When they've finished sucking down fuel and cannon rounds to shoot with, tuck in behind them and let them do what they do best with them over glorified pea shooters of theirs. We'll just keep them from getting flanked by infantry. Lets Rock this joint for real!" he yelled as they tore through the field chasing desperate Aryans who'd been on the offensive only moments before. Tracers began increasing in occurrence and in popularity as MG rounds started firing across the field like streams of fire. The tankers were freeing up and earnestly reloading and refueling like men with a purpose. God Bless them, everyone of them. he thought as they cleared out the last of the Aryan stragglers. Some Gunned down, some run over and still others a little of both. Minutes passed then finally the shop tanks were starting out with a low roar. Rho ordered his platoon's vehicles to come in behind the tanks to guard the flanks. as they progressed toward the big fight. It was time for some serious payback!

Tag: Deiskrad Sanctimoniously, Others?

 

CS approved

Name:Jason Blackledge
Birthdate (Age): July 4, 2191 (27)
Homeworld:Victoria, Texas; Planet Earth
Affiliation: 4th Recon/4th MAR DIV/ USMC reserves
Specialty: 0302-Infantry officer
Rank:First Lieutenant
Weapons: M11 Assault Rifle; M2173A3 Pistol
Bio: Jason hails from Victoria, Texas. A academical and athletic standout in high school he graduated from the University of Texas. After school he recieved his commission though OCS.
A budding career as a kindergarten teacher he decided to not go active duty. A friendly and likeable fellow, he does his best to set good examples for people, regardless of rank. Jason arrived on new Zion for monthly reserve battle drill and assembly,and because of a temporary teaching position. He packed up his wife and two kids to search his fortune.

 

OOC:sorry it's bit wordy fellas. I couldn't really think of an action packed way to enter yet

IC: 1st Lieutenant Jason Blackledge
2nd platoon (red dogs), 4th Recon, 4th Marine Division,United States Marine Corps

September 30, 2219
P.S. 330 Normandy Elementary;Building A Classroom 3

"Raise your hand, don't blurt out the answer" Jason chuckled as he handed out tiny pieces of colorful wrapped candy. Here he was teaching a small class of kindergarteners, or trying for a better word, to teach them basic farm animals sounds. "Class what sound does a duck make?" he called out, readining a piece of Saturday Crush for temporary flight.

"MOO!"
"WOOF!" squeaky voices cried out in unison.

Jason held both hands up to quiet the youngsters "Wait, wait everyone. A duck makes the same sound as a cow? really? and it barks?"
The children looked at him with bright innocent eyes, slightly confused before bursting in childish laughter. He laughed at the brief display of innocence and decided to just give them the rest of the candy. Amist the confectionary shower the children started to dance in an unorthodox fashion, resmembling the farm animals they had learned in the last three days. Jason sat back in his chair, amused at the display.
"One moment i'm a teacher,next second i'm a farmer" he thought to himself. Just watching his students interactions made him think of his own little ones. After all, the twins would be starting pre-school very soon and who knows what kind of habits they could pick up?

But, if they had classmates like his students they would be fine Jason reasoned to himself.
On the corner of his brown oakwood desk a picture caught his gaze: a family photo.

His wife sat regally in chair, a white, gold trimmed wedding dress sat perfectly on her body her raven colored hair fell just past her shoulders almost like an exclamation point.

Jade was a beautiful bronze-sknned woman, not just in a sexual way, but in the way you just couldn't help blushing just by looking at her pictures.
.
Jason stood behind her in full blue dress, a single silver bar adorned on his shoulder: the rank of First Lieutenant.

His hand in her slender one. Two rings symbolizing their faith in one another.

A massive rumble crept in the floor,and forced a couple of tiles to shoot up. Desks flipped over, books crashed to the floor, and made the children cry out and huddle around their teacher in fear.
Outside of the closed classroom door indistinct yelling and running fill the hallways. The door swung open and a fellow teacher ran in
"Jason!!, something..is..ugh..going..on!" he wheezed, collasping. "Zion..under...attack..dunno...on..the news".


His video phone vibrated twice in quick sucessions, the indication of an urgent phone call to which it was immidiately picked up. It was his wife, and it wasn't good news.

"Jason!!..I-I-I-I don't know whats going on! Some men are dragging people out of their homes and making them line up in the street! Help!" the phone crackled.
"They have guns..and...".
Three shots rang out in the background as the phone sent silent.


"JADE! ARE YOU ALLRIGHT? JADE?? JADE!!" Jason roared,hopping to his feet in disbelief. He had no idea what was going on, and it really didn't matter. His wife was in danger, and that's all that mattered.

 

did this die

 

IC: 1st Lieutenant Jason Blackledge
2nd Platoon (Red Dogs), 4th Recon, 4th Marine Division,

September 30, 2219
11:45


His head was spinning.


Jason took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His wife was in trouble, and Zion was under assault. He sighed. The last thing he wanted in a situation like this was to leave his students. His wife was gone to who knew where, they were under attack and time was running out.



His phone vibrated again the same way as before. This time it wasn't his wife but another person: His platoon sergeant.
"Lieutenant Blackledge? We got a situation sir, it seems Zion is under attack by enemy forces. Where are you? I'm at-" He asked, the last part drowned out by gunshots.


"I'm at the elementary school! 39 Crosswood lane, off of Smith and Morrison." Jason replied as he stood up to look out the window blinds to overlook the front of the school.


More gunshots followed two huge explosions.The platoon sergeant yelled a few inaudible commands before returning to the phone. "SIR, WE ARE about 5 minutes from that location, we are headed towards you!"

"What about the platoon? Location?


"We are together. En route to your position" yelled Driggs over a barrage of gunfire. Clearly the situation was getting out of hand. Fast.



"Okay!, I'll meet you out front in five minutes" He responded. His thoughts trailed back to his wife. He tried to block his fears out,and the harder he tried the more impossible it became. He needed to find her and fast.



Jason sighed and pulled out a black duffle bag from under his desk: inside were his boots and utes. He quickly got dressed and pinned his rank on his lapels, thinking of a battle plan as he did so. He then turned towards his young students taking the time to look each in their faces.
The expressions of their features told the entire story: They were scared, unsure of what was happening, and all they knew was their beloved teacher was leaving them.


Each student wrapped their arms around Jason almost wordlessly begging him not to go. If it was possible he was sure he felt his heart crack a little. Jason took a knee and hugged each and everyone of them. "Stay here, under your desks okay? A teacher will be here to look after you all"
Not waiting for a nod, he sprinted out the room, down a couple of hallways until he reached the front door.


As he proceeded to exit the building 2 armored humvees pulled up on the curb. Both of them had manned 50 caliber heavy machine guns. The lead vehicle passenger door swung open and a older man in his mid forties kicked one tan combat boot over and stepped out.


"Lieutenant Blackledge"
"Staff Sergeant Driggs"



C.H. Driggs, Cadbury Hungary Driggs. The definition of a Marine infantryman. Hailing from Silbee, Texas Driggs is fourteen year veteran of combat arms, the multiple scars on his face told a story of adventure and pride. He was about six feet with cold grey eyes that immediately commanded respect from his peers. His hair was cut into a low buzzcut. On his lapels sat the rank of Staff Sergeant. At the moment he saw Jason he reached out to shake hands.


Jason obliged and shared a strong grip. The rest of the group wearily grinned at their leader.


In Driggs's eyes Jason was a great young officer. The five years he served beside him was without a doubt some of the best years of his life. The men trusted his judgement, and in turn he trusted theirs. He wasn't power hungry like some officers, and really cared about the work he was doing.


Jason reached in the back of the lead humvee and pulled out some extra battle rattle. As he proceeded to fill up his ammo and grenade pouches, Driggs opened up a map on the hood of the running vehicle.


"So what's the situation, i'm rather tired of being left in the dark Staff Sergeant" he asked, as he strapped down the velcro of his black knee and elbow pads



"To be honest sir, neither are we. The battle net has been scrambled. Units have been trying to radio in to command. No serious luck though i'm sure SOME

 

OOC:double posted >___<

 

IC: Lt. Engelhardt
Location: Ararat Base
Time: 1400 hrs

"Gun it! Let's run 'em down! Driver, forward 500. Gunner: Targets of opportunity. Engage."

In theory, it was called a "target rich environment". In reality, it was called "A bunch of frightened enemy soldiers who were about to die." The tank, a behemoth which roared as it dragged itself out of the maintenance bay, was operational. They rolled forward, joined by three others, and the Aryan soldiers melted away. Engelhardt could hear the 35mm and the .50 ripping up almost continuously as they took the fight to the open. Most of them broke and ran only to be scythed down by the endless drumming of the guns, but a few froze or tried to fight back. A man-portable ATR fired. The AI screamed a warning, but it didn't need to, the weapon targeted another tank in his company, Desert Rat. It burst against the glacis plate. A quick status report flashed across Engelhardt's screen: No Damage. The same could not be said for the enemy soldier, as every 35mm gun controlled by the 4 tanks' AI's swung on target and eliminated the threat.

That broke whatever fight was left in the Aryans. They displaced like mad, a few of them even abandoned their weapons in their haste.

"Virastyuk, give me manual on the fifty."

An Icon popped up green on his vision slits, indicating control for the .50 caliber machine gun. Engelhardt began peppering the fleeing enemy. 6, 10, 15 went down.

"Rally Point! this abandoned bunker!" He indicated it on the map on the main screen in the turret, knowing it would be echoed on his Driver's screen, and every screen in his tanks throughout his platoon.

"Somebody signal that Marine Recon sergeant. Sigma or something. Tell him what were doing. And tell him to head over to this tank soonest."

He and Rho had to get some sort of plan together, the Aryans had given them breathing room, but probably only for five minutes. Less if they had artillery on-call. They had to get a plan together before moving on, not just blindly lashing out. Still though, in the absence of orders, march to the sound of the enemy's guns. But there was no point in doing that without coordinating with known friends.

TAG: Vang, alles

 

IC: As LPC CAMF Marine Major General Phillip Barrett Weyoun, Major Ulysses M. Jenner with other accompanying command staff.

Location: Emergency Command Bunker beneath Ararat Base.


"Sir we've received word that the Tanks of Company D, Eighteenth Armored Battalion and the 331st Recon Platoon have broken free from Fire Base Charlie and are heading south west towards Ararat Base," Major General Phillip Weyoun mulled over the fresh data for a few seconds While he clipped and lit his Havana.

"Have them team up with Companies A through C and continue heading towards Ararat Base. Their they are to hook up with the assortment of infantry we've got wondering around there and head directly to NJ and commence with the operation I'll be sending them. In the mean time they are to destroy any Aryan contacts they come across while in route to Ararat Base and NJ. Now get me more remotes up and running so I can see were the action is so we can put together a plan for kicking those Aryan Scum out of our turf," he ordered.

"Yes sir!" responded Major Jenner.

Tag: Deiskrad, Sanctimoniously and Bloodline.

 

IC: Lt. Brian Engelhardt
Location: Southern highway/Mineral Road heading toward New Jerusalem
Time: 1430

March to the sound of the guns...

For all intents and purposes, the Frag Order Engelhardt had received had been just that: "head directly to NJ and commence with the operation I'll be sending them... destroy any Aryan contacts they come across while in route..." The modern operational order of marching to the sound of the enemy's guns.

Nobody had any idea of enemy disposition. For that matter, no one knew the disposition of friendly units either. Each time that he'd attempted to access tactical sattelite data, he'd received nothing. Gruffly, Rho Sigma had told him that likewise he was getting no data from any source. So, they were basically headed blind into an Urban area, and they'd had no time to attach the additional armor and weapons systems that were so necessary for fighting in an Urban environment. Basically, it was a tanker's nightmare.

But he'd volunteered. He and everyone else. No one was a conscript. They knew what it meant when they took the oath.

They'd gotten one of the scout vehicles up and running, and it was ahead of the main column, transmitting sensor data back to the rest of the colimn. A few recon infantry rode inside as well, a few more crouched down behind the scout cars turret. It was the same throughout the column. The Infantry were riding on the backs of the armored behemoths, so they would not be winded by running the four miles to the city outskirts.

They'd encountered no more enemy, but he was certain they were being observed. Scanning the digital map, Engelhardt saw a bend in the road. on one side was a rocky field, and the other was the high ground that the road snaked around. If there was a better place for an ambush on the road to New Jerusalem, Engelhardt had yet to see it.

He stood up in the turret, twisting in the cupola to get Sigma's attention. After securing his gaze, he showed him his palmdat, which he'd slaved to the digital map image.

"If I were him, I'd have an ambush here. I'm gonna order the scout car to slow, and then speed off back this way as if they've spotted the enemy. Hopefully it'll draw fire and we can take them out that way. If it doesn't work, I'm gonna ask that you have some men do a recon on foot to make sure they're not there."

The scout car drew to the location. It slowed for a moment, then threw itself in reverse and backed away, wheeling left, then roared back down the road.

Nothing.

Engelhardt turned to Sigma.

"They're either cagey or not there. Your go."

TAG: Vangarian

 

IC: As CAMF Marine Corp. Sargent Rho Sigma and his howling Marines.

Location: Highway 12 aka Southern Highway, Mineral Road, MP 27, (Foot Hills of Ararat Mountains) northeast of Ararat Base outside New Jerusalem.

It stood 24 inches tall and had counter rotating fan blades of carbon fiber. With a five minute preflight check it was certified as a go for an above terrain observation and detection mission. Corporal Terrance 'Geek' Gig jacked in to the cyber interface and took control of the little spy in the sky also making sure to forward any information gleaned to central command back at the Command Center underneath Ararat Base for General Weyoun to patch into his data base of the battle field surrounding New Jerusalem. The carbon fiber blades spun up to speed then bit air as the RBS-22 lifted off silently climbing to 8,000 ft. where it would loiter while it surveyed the surrounding area and a patch of ground on the far side of a section of foot hills that highway 12 meandered around on its way towards Ararat base. Corporal Gig guided the RBS-22 forward until it was nearly straight above the ground in question. Low light didn't show anything in particular amongst the shodows of the hillside so he switched to far infrared for a thermo-graphic view. Where once had been what seemed to be nothing more than bushes and ground growth of mesquite suddenly turned into a large company of scout vehicles with five tanks nestled in a wash just beyond a string of boulders that had fallen some years prior. It was an ambush straight from the text books.

"Sarge we've got just what the Lt. was thinking we might have," spoke the Corporal. "A company of scout vehicles and I count five heavy tanks to hold their hand with," he finished.

"Lets inform the LT of what we've got so we can work together then, maybe he'll like the fact that we've got a side road back a quarter mile with a high ground advantage to it and a ridge line for cover to boot," Said Rho.

Gig smiled. "Don't forget the fire sack that they've got themselves in Sarge. I bet the LT will just love hearing about that part too."

Rho spit out a used wad of Beach Nut chew. He never used the stuff during a fire fight cause sometimes he'd swallow and regret it later on.

"Yeah I'll tell him about that too. Don't get all cocky on me," he chided.

Tag: Deiskrad, Bloodline, Sanctimoniously, Others.

OOC: Bloodline! We're still active don't drop out on us mate.

 

IC: Lt. Brian Englehardt
Location: Wasteland surrounding New Jerusalem

Textbook. That's what it was. Something somebody would create who only had theoretical ideas about war, but little actual experience. It was simple, and would be effective, save for some glaring errors that the enemy had made.

Still, he'd take a squash over a costly firefight any day.

He outlined a simple plan to his tanks and his ad hoc force over the company net. They would back up and head down the service road giving the infantry heavy weapons a ride, coming out along the ridgeline to get enfilading fire on the enemy ambush position. they would open up with main guns and the infantry mortars and drive off the enemy force. Meanwhile the rest of the ad hoc force would then rush the enemy position from the front nail any stragglers, and give brief pursuit before retiring to the first phase line of the attack. Then they would continue the march.

Sigma was on board with the plan, and seemed happy enough just to get something to kill. Part of Englehardt wondered if the man was insane. Civilian life would be impossible for this man any more.

It took about ten minutes to get the column straightened out and into position, then ENglehardt and his platoon began going up the service road and mounting the ridgeline.

As they were in the staging area in the dead ground of the ridgeline, waiting for the main assault force to get into position, a Column of dirt burst from the ground only about twenty feet from the tank. The explosion rang the tank like a bell, and the shockwave buffeted into the fighting compartment. The AI wailed unnecessarily.

What the H***! How did they...

Then Englehardt realized... The dust. As they'd plowed down the disused service road, and up the ridgeline, the 100+ ton behemoths had thrown up a lot of dust and dried earth. Enough for the enemy to see and surmise what they were doing, and now were calling in artillery.

"Company! 100 meters west! Crest the line, engage, and then back off!"

They'd humbugged him! Maybe his opponent was not a wet-behind-the-ears conscript after all. But even an idiot in a hurry would've surmised the dust cloud and what it portended. Now he had a fight on his hands, rather than the A**-kicking he'd hoped for. The tanks roared west, dodging gouts of flame and earth as artillery soared in. Splinters rattled off the hull. Part of Englehardt managed to thank god that they were mixed airburst and impact rounds. Not the dreaded AT rounds that locked onto their targets, airburst, and fired a lance of plasma-hot osmium through a tanks turret, giving an instant and painful death to the crew. He cursed his cadet stupidity!

"Engage autoloader, wait for my command!"

As one the platoon swung up the ridge and crested. The AI gave a sweeping view of the valley below, and the assembled aryan force. They had some kind of low grade armored fighting vehicles that had trained their guns more or less in their direction, a smattering of other vehicles, some of which were belching mortars, adding their cacophany to their called-in artillery.

"Gunner! Target! AFV! 1200 Meters!"

"Identified!"

"Fire!"

Virastyuk tripped the switch, and the beast spoke.

As the tank rocked back on its suspension, the AI informed him that he'd hit his target. the AI displayed a 93% probability of a kill. Almost as an afterthought, the AI found some soft vehicles and straight-leg infantry for the 35mm to have at. Englehardt squeezed the spade grips and fired off a 3 second burst, the computer having already targeted and fire control already having compensated for wind, gravity, etc. The tactical display began rippling with explosions. some of them tufts of gray smoke, others were flaming blasts.

But it wasn't entirely one sided, the enemy was shooting back and their precision was telling. a tank round plowed up the earth to his tank's right. The AI screamed that his tank had six separate lock-ons from ATGMs, and mortars were plopping on their position every second, dealing HE and smoke laced with sensor-absorbing compounds which diminished

 

IC: As CAMF Marine Corp. Sargent Rho Sigma and his howling Marines.

Location: Highway 12 aka Southern Highway, Mineral Road, MP 27, (Foot Hills of Ararat Mountains) northeast of Ararat Base outside New Jerusalem.

It had definitely dropped in the pot. The Aryans had spotted the dust as the heavies moved up the service road behind the ridge. Sargent Rho listened at the Doppler shift as the first wave of Aryan artillery approached, yelling "incoming" over the infantry channel. The first wave hit up in the area behind the ridge line. Rho grimaced at what his imagination visualized the lighter combat vehicles going through. Up popped the Company of tanks he and his men had rescued earlier. No more the victims awaiting execution at the hands of goose stepping killers. Now on equal terms, now dishing out in kind what the Aryans were attempting against New Zion.

"Gig! Get on the Horn and call in an artillery barrage from Horny Toad 7, while we get into position. We'll paint them up real pretty like in the mean time. Get the coordinates to that patch of dirt the Aryans are occupying for them and we'll take it from there!" Rho yelled.

"On it Sarge!" yelled Corporal Gig back at him.

Sargent Rho switched back to his platoon's infantry channel.

"Listen up Silver-backs! We've got a slight change of plans. We're going to show those Aryans that we got artillery too and they're in a fire sack. So get your painters out and aim them at the mortar teams first then concentrate on the heavies to distract them from hitting our guys for when they pop up again," he ordered.

Rho switched again, this time to command frequency. LT. would need a heads up on the counter artillery they had on hand...


Tag: Deiskrad, Sanctimoniously, Kahn_Iceay and Others.

 

IC: First Lieutenant Jason Blackledge
2nd platoon (Red Dogs) 4th Recon, 4th Marine Division
1222 hrs

Where the Feral Dogs Feed

The recon platoon made their way silently down the street bypasing parked automobiles, trashcans, and mailboxes. The neighborhood was ghostly silent which was rather unsual for the time of day it was. Most of the time a lot of the older high school kids would be around for lunch or some elderly folks would be tending to their indvidual yards. Something was amiss. Jason glanced to his left at Staff Sergeant Driggs and uncomfortably exchanged a glance. From the look on Driggs face it seemed as if the grizzly Marine's face the same thoughts pierced his brain as well.


"Where the hell is everyone? This isn't good..nor usual" Jason murmured to himself, trigger finger tensed in slight worry. The sounds of forty pairs of combat boots smacking the cold, rain-soaked streets.


The front door of the last house on the left swung open and about three men dressed in black armor. Jason's heart sank:it was his house. As much as he prayed, wished and hoped, his nightmare had come true. The unknown hostiles were lightly armed, probably were a light Vangard force or a expeditionary force at best. And at one three burst from Jason's M11, the Vangard ceased to exist. "Hell of a shot sir" grunted Driggs.


As the red dogs approached the house, signs of hostile entry was evident. There was bullet holes in the walls of the two-story brickhouse accompanied by numerous shell casings and artillery shells in the usually well cut grass. The black sedan his wife usually drove was pepped with machine gun and pistol rounds. The back window was kicked out, shreds of a marine decal lay littered in the backseat.




The moment Jason stepped on the porch he leaped through the broken door, tossed his rifle aside and rushed up the elegant oak staircase. His men cried for him to wait for them but their protests fell on death ears. The adrenaline rush of combat mixed with the fear of a husband and father spured him on. Him jumping through a door and tossing aside is firearm defied everything he learned from his seven years of military expirence and was downright foolish. Jason kicked open the master bedroom door and scanned the room. The bed was knocked aside, the closets were ripped apart and the drawers was strewn everywhere.


"Jade!!! Jade!!!!!!" Jason yelled with no response. No response, just utter silence. He kicked a couple of drawers around and stormed out of the room and pushed through entering Marines. He kicked the door of the first room across the hall: The twins room. A rocking chair placed in the corner of the room was broken and burnt, clothes were strewn around and the baby crib was broken and tipped over. A spot of red was soiled into the dark green carpet, and what looked like a toy arm was a couple of feet from it.


At first glance it seemed like a toy arm, and with a massive shake of shock he realized it wasn't a toy arm. It wasnt. It was the the severed arm...of an infant. At that moment First Lieutenant Jason Blackledge was not longer present. He was gone to another place, another plane of reality. Two of his men stood behind him silent, one threw up, retching painfully. Silently, a single tear rolled down the cheek of First Lieutenant Jason Blackledge, a small ode reflecting limb of a child.

tag: All

 

IC: As CAMF Marine Corp. Sargent Rho Sigma and his howling Marines.

Location: Highway 12 aka Southern Highway, Mineral Road, MP 27, (Foot Hills of Ararat Mountains) northeast of Ararat Base outside New Jerusalem.

Gig had some serious adjusting to do as it became apparent that artillery was not an option like Sargent Rho Sigma had hoped. The Corporal worked furiously with software adjustments while Rho's action oriented troops rushed to bring any kind of pressure to bare on the Aryans that had called in the artillery support against the tankers now on the ridge north and above. The RBS-22 Cyberdrone could be effectively modified to do a number of things including attacking from overhead with its painting lasers refocused to tight beams and cranked up to the extra "HOT" setting. This was enough to make the Aryan spotters duck for cover when swept by its triple beams at the very least. He'd effectively thrown out the software's restrainer bolt thus making the targeting lasers deadly weapons. Power supply wouldn't be a problem with the drone's Searl Effect Generators.

"Team 1-this is Team 2. Have you got that makeshift adjustment done yet?" came Sargent Sigma's monotone voice, barely above a whisper.

"Team 2 to Team 1. Done and Airborne in five seconds, Sargent. Targeting Lasers are now "Weapon Grade HOT" and we have effective air superiority over them. Give me another fifteen seconds to bring it to attack altitude then let's have some fun for a change," he said.

The counter rotating blades spun up to speed almost instantly then bit into the air for a quick climb into the cloudy sky.

"Team 1 to Team 2. Roger that Corporal Gig. We're in position to take advantage of the situation," said Sargent Sigma. He switched to his 3rd team's frequency as he eyed the Cyberdrone's liftoff.

"Team 3 this is Team 1. Gig's got us air superiority. Prepare for operation Weeney Roast in fifteen seconds," said Rho.

"Team 3. Aye."

Another artillery wave streaked in out of the southeast-care of the Aryans who'd landed ten miles east of Ararat Base with their artillery pieces-hitting into the ridge line again. Earth was belched up with tumultuous results. The remaining ten seconds elapsed and all hell broke loose as a simultaneous assault from four different directions came down on the Aryan Fire Sack. Gig started it with a hit on the Aryan spotters who'd been targeting the tanks. Meanwhile the rest of the Fire Teams used their "RPG-88s" from high points along the intervening wall of boulders between the approach road and the would-be ambushers. This to hit from above into the thinner armor on the top of the Aryan tanks where they could kill a "Tank Commander" or at least a "Loader" if they were stupid enough to get caught topside while the fun was happening.

In retaliation the Aryan turrets began spinning furiously, searching for their attackers while their accompanying Gunners raised the cannon muzzles with coaxial anti-infantry machine guns. Within a second most of the Aryan tank crews dropped down within their turrets. Anyone who didn't was dead. All three Fire Teams dropped out of sight behind the wall of boulders giving the CAMF Tank Company on the high road the break they needed. In the mean time Gig started wasting the Aryan Mortar Teams with the Drone's weaponized targeting lasers. Screams of surprise and terror could be heard by all three Fire teams from beyond the wall of boulders as the mortar teams fell prey to the Drones deadly touch. More screams were heard, then the Aryan Mortars were stopped as well.

Team 2 to Team 1. Their turrets are all sweeping the boulder wall east of them Englehardt has an opening,"

Rho acknowledged and switched to the Tank commander's frequency.

"Silver-back 1 to Englehardt. We've got their attention on us. Come on in and join the party," said Rho.


Tag: Deiskrad, Sanctimoniously, Bloodline, Kahn?, Others if you'd like.

 

IC: Englehardt

"Roger that Silverback one." He switched frequencies. "Mount the crest and attack!"

The tanks roared up the ridge, and their guns swept the valley floor. Explosions rippled across the fire sack. THe AI registered little return fire, so he maintained position, Virastyu pumping more and more rounds into the kill zone, whilst Englehardt add his 35mm to the cacophany.

"Cease fire! Cease fire!" Englehardt yelled. The tactical AI was registering no further enemy activity. One Aryan Truck was driving out of the fire sack. They'd won. The AI registered all five ARyan tanks as kills, about a hundred straight leg infantry, various other vehicles. Within a minute, an RPG-88 claimed the fleeing truck.

"All units form column and resume the march, post haste."

With trembling fingers, Englehardt switched back to the frequency for the ad hoc force, repeated his order and sat back.

He wanted to throw up, but kept it in. In addition to it not being a very command-presence thing to do, it would stink up the turret.

That and the gunner was almost directly beneath him.

TAG: all

 

ooc:expect my post later today

 

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