Thriller Halo TODAY: Crossroads of America

LPC: Sgt. Gregory ?Jack? Jackson, Indiana National Guard, Greenfield, Indiana

Every time Sgt. Greg Jackson looked to the horizon, he expected it to suddenly alight with Covenant troops and vehicles. He tried to ignore it and focused instead on digging the fighting positions that he and his fire team had been ordered to create.

All along a nearly hundred-mile arc north and south of this key city, dozens of other National Guard units were digging in, ordered to hold until reinforced by regular army and marine units. Already a few had arrived, but none to this tiny hillock (or at least what passed for one in Indiana) outside of Greenfield. Looking west, Jackson could see the city of Greenfield, could almost see Riley Park where the Guard armory was located.

The cold of early March cut through his BDU?s despite his physical exertion as he tore chunks of frozen earth from the soil with his entrenching tool. About a hundred yards away, a bulldozer was digging in a fighting position for a Stryker or other AFV.

To the east, he saw a clutch of purple craft descend to the horizon, doubtless they were dropping off more alien soldiers or equipment or supplies. As usual, the cold realization of this gripped him, and he tried (unsuccessfully) to push out of his mind the realization that if the Covenant showed up soon, he and his men would have to try to stop them. That meant almost certain death. They had a few mortars they could call on and their rifles. Everything else heavy had gone over to Iraq years before, and replacements had been especially slow.

Breath fogging in the intermittent wind, Jackson went back to work. In the end, all one could do was stay useful. No matter the outcome.


LPC: Field Master Zogar ?Gaharkee, Sangheili Zealot commanding 8th Legion of Sacrosanct Meditation

?We depart in one-tenth cycle!? Field Master ?Gaharkee bellowed to his officers. ?All Sangheili officers to their Lances!? The Sangheili Major-Domo?s and Ultra?s sped off to their individual Ghosts and rocketed off to their units. But ?Gaharkee?s words carried much farther. He?d just been addressing the entire legion, some 15,000 warriors of all species, over the comnet. Though there were three combat legions landed, His had the honor of being the Vanguard of the attack.

He crossed the still smoldering street of this human city, fastidiously avoiding the blackened corpses of some its former inhabitants. Such barbarians they were. He idly wondered what the Prophets would re-name this ?Cambridge City? once this planet was pacified of human scourge.


But, to business now. He climbed into his special Command Spectre. The driver powered up the Boosted Gravity drive, and the vehicle coasted forward to join its echelon. Distantly, he saw scores of Banshees lfiting off as they assumed overwatch positions. Across his entire Legion?s front, hundreds of fighting vehicles: Ghosts, Spectres, Shadows, and even a number of lances of heavy Wraith Main battle tanks; all began ghosting forward to the attack.

?I almost pity them.? ?Gaharkee muttered.


IC: Major Joe Olsen, Commanding first Tank battalion, in transit; Bloomington Indiana.

The train hadn?t moved for almost an hour. It hadn?t been strafed, but the scuttlebutt was that the tracks had been shot up a few miles up ahead by Covenant air units. They needed to be repaired before transit could resume.

Olsen took the time to try his cell phone and contact his wife. Of course, the lines were jammed. So, instead, he tried to think of what he remembered of Bloomington, and discuss it with his officers and staff.

When they could come up with little more than ?Indiana University? and ?Bobby Knight?, Olsen let himself slip into his own thoughts.

?Are we there yet?? echoed in his mind, and he laughed.

TAG: Vangarian, anybody else

 

IC as NPC Major Kelsey Conrad Russell in command of Blackbird Squadron:

March 8th Two hours before the attack against Greenburg: The 16 CV-22 Ospreys of 8th S.O.S. were nearing Greenburg when Major Russell's radio informed him that the cuvvies were attacking Wright Patterson AFB.

"Well I hope that new set of AA batteries they installed earlier this year works like they believe," murmured Russell to no one in particular.

"All right we're on final approach slow up while I contact Tibbit for point of offloading," he spoke into his mike.

"8th S.O.S. you are cleared to hill 12 west of town for offload. They'll red smoke you for set down and wind direction. We've got a storm front coming in so watch yourselves."

Russell smiled and responded.

"Thanks we'll be extra quick."

The squadron headed west and lowered their altitude. Five minutes later they approached a hillock with red smoke showing. Wind was blowing southeast and National Guard units were clearing back to make room for them. They landed and got to work unloading. Russell stepped out and helped. One of the other Ospreys brought a Marine Recon Platoon along to help with any training that might be needed plus fighting along side the Guard. Guard members started smiling when they saw the Stingers and AT-4 CSs cases being unloaded pellmell as fast as the bucket brigade could handle. They really smiled when they saw the M-134Ds with large ammo cases. Moral was at least picking up, he thought that was at least good. God help them. They were going to be in the thick of it. Half hour later the Black birds now empty of cargo departed for Wright Patterson AFB to help pick up the pieces. Well at least Greenburg had one good fight in them.

OOC: 50 M-134Ds have been distributed along the line with 500 Stingers and 200 AT-4CSs

TAG: Guys

 

Time: 02:55 Date 03/08/2009

Wright Patterson AFB

Todd swung the ramp gun around and aimed the Dillon at the Banshees that were baring down on his men that had just arrived. He fired a stream of tracer and armor piercing rounds into the lead one. He caught it on it's left wing and engine nacelle. Energized matter burst out from the wing and engine's confines as the banshee rolled out of control causing one of its fellows to evade and crashed head long into one of the Ospreys. Those that were on board died in the explosion of fuel munitions that were onboard the burning Valkry. Others immediately followed to fill the void left by their dead comrad and pressed the attack with a vengence seen only in the pacific theater of the last world war. More Dillans met them with horrendous fire until they changed tactics and climbed to a higher altitude. Neither Michaelson nor his men could hit the Banshees at this new angle of attack since the airframes of the remaining Ospreys tail sections were in the way. The Banshees whipped around and came on at speed to make a high angle pass at their dormant prey. Suddenly the sky seemed to light up as hundreds no thousands of rounds leaped up from the corners and edges of the Base's runway and surrounding field. New Anti Aircraft pylons mount on heavy trucks swiveled and fired a withering onslaught against both sets of Covenant aircraft. The Banshees already commited to their attack run were hit like mosquitos by a wall of metal. They shreded and blew apart. Though one snaped off a shot at Todd's Osprey before it blossomed into fireworks. Todd earned his first purple heart of the war. A blossom of partially spent plasma hit his left side as the plasma jet tore through the airframe. The smell of burning flesh filled his nostrils as scream after scream was ripped from his throat. Todd tried to slap the splatter off of him but couldn't move his left arm. He stumbled out of-the now flaming-Valkry and towards the tarmack, rolling onto his back. It was like the fourth of July. He could swear it really was just like it... Vaguely Todd heard yelling and felt the sting of Co2 fire extinguishers putting out the fire on his flight suit. He saw Connecky kneeling over him, raise up, turn and bellowing for a medic.

The battle of Wright Patterson AFB continued but Major Todd Stephon Michaelson lost conscoisness.

TAG: Sanctimoniously, Deiskrad and Please...Others!

 

OOC: I must offer Profuse Apologies. My earlier post with the Blackbirds' (8th S.O.S.) timely arrival at Greenburg was meant to be at Greenfield, Indiana instead.

 

GM APPROVED:

Name: Kelsey Conrad Russell

Age: 39

Service: United States Air Force.

MOS: Pilot CV-22B Osprey. Commanding 8th S.O.S. Blackbirds.

Rank: O4/Major.

Weapon(s): FN P90, Berreta 9mm semi-automatic Pistol.

BIO: Born and raised in Kansas City, Missouri, Kelsey wanted to learn how to fly from age six. His Father was one of the few pilots who flew Puffs and Specters on missions against transport trucks used to haul supplies down the Ho Chi Ming trail to South Vietnam for the Viet Cong. Kelsey enlisted just in time for Operation Desert Shield and Desert Storm. He saw his first action in Iraq. Later he was involved in the Osprey evaluations for use by the Air Force and thought it had great potential as the perfect replacement for the helicopter. He later transfered to the then newly organized 8th S.O.S. Blackbirds and has seen an assortment of different special Operations Forces. He currently is in command of 8th S.O.S. during all missions out of Hulbert Field, in the Florida Pan Handle. The 8th S.O.S. is currently involved with supply runs to military Forces operating in Indiana against Invading Covenant Forces and also the insertion of Special Forces behind enemy lines in Indiana.


Next PC:

Name: Jerry Vincent Connecky.

Age: 25 years.

Service: United States Marine Corp.

MOS: Pilot/Co Pilot MV-22B Osprey. Second in Command of VMM-268 Valkry Squadron.

Rank: O3/Flight Captain.

Weapons: MK-417 100 rnd snail magazines. Barreta 9mm semi-automatic pistol.

BIO: Born in Miniapolis, Minnesota on Febuary 28th, 1984 Jerry thought his dad was the greatest man alive. His father served in the Marine Corp. after the end of the Vietnam era. His father never came back from the first Persian Gulf War. Jerry wanted to do something with his life that would make a difference and so chose to follow his father's footsteps into the Marine Corp. recruiter's office. He qualified for piloting and chose the Osprey. He never regreted his choice. Now he faces a new challenge as his former commanding officer has been gravely injured in an attack by the Covenant. Now he must command the Valkrys and rebuild a Squadron that has been devistated with the lose of fellow Marines who gave their lives in service to their country.

 

Overview: Wright-Patterson AFB, under attack by Covenant Air Forces

Green lances arrowed down from the sky, white tracers speared upwards. Much of the Air Force base was burning or smoldering. Pieces of wrecked aircraft, mostly human, littered the ground. Less than half of the Air defense batteries were still firing. Despite their initial success, the tables had quickly turned on the humans. The Elites simply stayed higher than the range of the Anti-aircraft guns and lobbed Fuel Rod Cannon rounds down upon the base. The United States Air Force Museum was completely destroyed, all four hangars burning. The various runways were pocked with craters, and most of the complement of planes were destroyed on the ground.

Far below the base, a few covenant POW?s listened to the bombardment. N?sar Kadasramee looked upwards from his cell to the reinforced-concrete ceiling. Though naked and bound, he bellowed his defiance as the explosions rumbled above.

?That?s it! Give it to them! Scour these heathen apes!?

A nervous guard slid open the viewport on the heavy steel door and looked in on the prisoner who had largely been silent since being flown here from Lousiana ten days ago. The Elite saw him and laughed even harder, then chortled in it?s strange alien tongue.

?You?re going to die little monkey. And I shall feed your remains to my hatchlings!? He laughed again.

The guard, not understanding a word of it, quickly slid the port shut and returned to his rounds. Every time a round impacted nearby, he winced and cast his eyes to the ceiling.

Kadasramee settled back, satisfied with the serious problems his people were causing the humans. He?d bide his time, and be ready when the time came.

TAG: Vangarian, anybody

 

GM approved! Learn to fear the Super Snake Covenant toadies!!

Name: William "Hangman" Uller
Age: 27

Service: United States Marine Corps
Military Occupational Specialty (MOS): 7565 Pilot (AH-1Z Attack Helicopter Pilot)
Rank: O-2, First Lieutenant

Weapons:
Onboard AH-1Z-
AIM-9X Sidewinder (heat seeking air-to-air missile)
Longbow Radar system (attaches on winglet mounting)

Personal-
1x SCAR-H Mk 17 Mod 0 CQC variant (7.62x51 NATO version)
1x Guncrafters Industries M1 (.50 GI)

Bio:
Born and raised in Baltimore, MD, Uller was fascinated with every single flying machine that he laid eyes on growing up. As a young man entering college, he fully intended to enter the Navy and become an F-14 pilot. However, with the announcement that the Tomcat would be retired, and his encounter with a Marine Corps AH-1W at an airshow, he re-commited himself to the rotorcraft field.

Graduating with a bachelors degree in journalism, Uller endured boot camp and was indoctrinated into both the Marine Corps and as a pilot. During pilots school he earned the nickname "Hangman" from his instructors, a reference to the fact that he would hang onto a stricken helicopter for much longer than was required or normal, in order to recover and return or at least make a safe landing. After graduating second overall in his class, he was assigned to HMLA-369, the same unit that his father had served in as an enlisted officer.

After being paired up with his CPG Co-Pilot/Gunner), Leonardo DeSade, the two quickly built up a reputation as a gunship crew that made it a point to come back empty or nearly empty after scoring an exceptionally high number of kills. Upon observation, it was discovered that the two were experts in finding Targets of Opportunity as outlined by any rules of engagement, a trait that was calculated to reduce battlefield casualties by 10% when they were present.

With this revelation, US SOCOM frequently tapped them for cover assignments involving Special Forces extractions. If there was an extraction point that needed some heavy firepower on scene, chances were that Uller and DeSade were involved.

After the first extraterrestrial landing, followed by the first outbreak of hostilities, HMLA-369 was re-assigned and rapidly transferred to their new operating theater, New Orleans. There the fighting was more intense than either had ever seen, and the initial actions of the US Armed Forces were met with fierce resistance resulting in a high casualty rate.

Uller and DeSade themselves were shot down a mere 72 hours into operations, knocked out of the air by a bright green bolt. Though injured in his own right, Uller carried the more critically wounded DeSade the 10 miles through enemy territory back to an aid station. During that transit, the two quickly discovered that 5.56mm and 9mm rounds were not enough to take down any of the aliens in sufficient time.

With pilots sorely needed, Uller was not allowed time off to coordinate his re-entry with his CPG. Quickly re-assigned with 2nd Lt. Marcus Horwitz, it became clear that the two were not on the same page. Barely a month after being re-assigned, Uller was shot down again, this time due to Horwitz missing a critical target of opporotunity that made them pay for it. Uller had already been frustrated with the mission parameters set forth by Naval Intelligence (it was his opinion that the target package was of little consequence when there were marauding groups of aliens hassling ground forces), and his frustration did not end when the two of them made it back to base.
Naval Intelligence had started a court martial in their absence, to determine weather or not the crew was negligent in their duties due to arguing rather than focusing on their objective.
It was rumored that an Intelligence Specialist by the name of Johnathon Kittering had picked the target without considering the route taken, and it was Ullers suspicion that rather than take his part of the blame he was heaping it on the helo crew.

Forced to sit out

 

IC: Savage 12-8 (1st. Lt. Uller and Capt. DeSade)
Location: approximately 45 miles due west of Connersville, IN

*One would assume that the current situation involving the Covenant would have sapped all the morale of the normal fighting serviceman. The fact that the aliens currently had strategic superiority due to the massive spacecraft capable of massive orbital bombardment, the advanced energy based technology, and the general shock and awe that alien landings produced. One would thing that it would be hard pressed to focus on anything other than the apparent inevitable doom that was heading their way.

However, most of those individuals in the armed forces were not like the crew of the AH-1Z Viper under the Tactical callsign of Savage 12-8. Take for example the pilot, 1st Lieutenant William 'Hangman" Uller. At that point he was talking about a date he had before they were shipped to New Orleans*

"...so I walk her up to the door, go in for the kiss, and she gives me her damn cheek of all things! Her cheek! This was after I listened to her yap on and on about her fashion design or whatever it was, paid for dinner at the expensive restaurant that I booked after she shot down the place I picked out, and called my rental boring! And I rented a freakin Mustang!"
I swear to any deity that is listening that I will never let Turbo set me up with anybody ever again, ever."

*The Co-pilot and Gunner simply snorted and chuckled, shaking his head. Captain Leon "Mongol" DeSade was on his first tour of duty after a crash that injured him, and his first one back with his pilot, and it became apparent that he didn't loose a step when it came to banter, because he launched into his own interpenetration of that particular date*

"Well Bill, if you had just listened to my sage advice, that would never have happened. Guess by not saying you were an attack helo pilot, you crippled yourself. And I thought you were going to have your Japanese hot-rod shipped stateside. That would have made her more eager than a groupie even faster."

*Uller sighed into his mike. Since HMLA-369, "The Gunfighters", were stationed in Okinawa these days, he had seen it fit to get a Japanese drivers lisence and buy a Japanese sports car, in his case a black 2001 Nissan Skyline GTR R-Tune, a monster of a sports car and perhaps the only machine truly capable of making DeSade, in Ullers words, "Scream like a girl running from that bad man with the candy.".
While it seemed venomous, the banter between the two was part of the cement that forged their bond, and made it that much easier to mesh into one cohesive fighting machine when the time came to meet the enemy*

"Yeah I thought that was a good idea until I looked at the cost of actually shipping it by normal means."

*As they spoke, they kept a watchful eye on their radar and the terrain. The aliens had developed a nasty habit of popping up at odd places, and since they both had endured shoot-downs, it was their intent for it not to happen again.*
"How much would it have cost?"

"Over 3 grand, the penny-grubbing port monkeys. I trued greasing the wheels at Military Sealift Command, since they dont do anything these days. The bastards blew me off! Its not like I was trying to smuggle in some trophy wife from Tokyo or something!
Plus then theres the hassle of getting it registered since its a right side drive vehicle, stand by, got a flash off to the left."

*One thing the aliens had done wrong was the way they painted their vehicles, uniformly reflective and high visibility. It made them easier to spot visually, and in a battlefield where they had few advantages, anything counted.

DeSade took a look over in that direction with his thermal camera.*

"Yup, we have our first contacts, northbound along local road. Looks like a couple of their APCs flanked by two of those combat hoverbikes, along with air cover from one of their attackers. Looks like they were expecting tankers or infantry."

*Bear in mind that this entire conversation had taken place while the heli

 

OOC: Ok, I've fixed on the location of the National Guard/Special forces screen. Locate Greenfield Indiana on Google maps. Then, following US 40, head east. Keep going until you hit a town called Cleveland. Switch to Terrain and zoom out a bit, you'll see some slightly hilly (for Central Indiana anyway) terrain north and south of US 40. That is where the Screen is located. Basically their orders will be to delay the Covenant as much as possible, and then run for the next line of defense while artillery allows you to disengage and escape. you can go ahead and do some scouting ahead with some hummers and an LAV if you like. I'll have a full post up tomorrow regarding the enemy's reaction, and what Olsen is up to, and all that.

Sorry, that this is so unwieldly. If I could've worked out the image capture, we'd have proper maps.

 

IC as Lieutenant Commader Anthony Ramone Estiphon also NPC Lieutenant Jack Peter Sutton and other assorted NPCs/LPCs that I throw in as needed:

The battle of Wright Patterson AFB:

DEVGRU members had to dash from tree to building to tree and finally to the last remaining AA Batteries that were never activated. They'd just been delivered late the night before as a cross branch supply of arms and technology care of the US Army fabrication battalian, Marines, NAVY developement labs, ATK Corporation, General Electric Corporation's Military Development Labs and General Dynamics Corporation. He'd only been briefed on these new units this very morning. One hell of a time to give them a try under battle field conditions, he thought as he and O'brian sprinted up to their assigned unit. Fire and a variety of craters were all over the base. Hangers were getting hammered that had aircraft still in for maintenance and refit work. Now he knew how George Washington must have felt like during the early winter months of the Revolutionary War against the British.

"Attitude adjustment, SEAL," he whispered to himself.

Mechanical Spc. 4 Chuck Edward O'brian cut the tie down lines to get an easier release of the lead lined tarp that was concealing the XMK 50 Super Bushmaster that was mounted in a modified version of an M1-A2's chassi and turret. Estiphon helped with urgency and alacrity, two really good friends of his. With them he swore he could do the job of three men, if needed. With the tarp clear O'brian launched up on top of the assembly of the rail gun's gattling barrel formation and scuried inside the armored housing of the turret. He busied himself with a special belt feed that came with the latest version of the Bushmaster dynasty of automatic cannons and their ammo.

As Obrian talked his way through the final assembly and prep for operation from within, Estiphon spotted a Covenant Banshee coming their way from across the landing field braving the flagging Metal Storm AAs with evil intent.

"Incoming," he yelled and pulled up his MK17. The Banshee's pilot spotted the motion and veered in his direction for a kill. Estiphon had already activated his infra-red laser dot and got it on the ugly's face mask. The barrel spoke. The ugly's face changed color just before his Banshee rolled and crashed.

"Step up the pace please O'brian, They know we're here now and up to something," he called.

"Oh, Da**it! I don't work well under pressure!" O'brian yelled back.

"Yeah I know what you mean! I have to start shooting things and people and all that crap when the pressure's on me! So do me a favor and give me something bigger and badder to shoot back at them with real quick!" yelled Estiphon in retort.

"I'm almost there! Just got to insert the chips! She's booting up! Get yer butt inside, sir!" called O'brian.

Estiphon took the hint and climbed to the top. He thought he heard the familiar sound of Apache's and Super Cobras as he dove through the hatch into the turret's innards. Estiphon righted himself and took the operator's seat. O'brian was plugging in the power feeds to the electric actuator motors.

"That's it. Flick the switches to enable and tell me which ones stay red on their lights," said O'brian.

"All green," said Estiphon.

"Your sh**ing me," said O'brian in suprise.

"Pipe down chief or you might jinx it," Estiphon fired back.

"X-men! Statis on the new batteries!" the radio blared.

"Base Command. This is X-men 1. Nimrod's Bow #7 is online."

"Base Command. This is X-men 2. Nimrod's Bow #4 is online," came Lieutenant Sutton's voice.

Others from the two SEAL platoons called in to confirm readiness with their respective XMK-50 Hybreds.

"X-men Stand-by for fire command!" called Base Command.

O'brian slipped into the drivers seat and fired up the Turbo shaft.

"X-men! Fire! Fire! Fire!

"Acquiring Covenant targets! Firing!" called Estiphon.

Just before the sabots lanced skyward, Army Apaches and Marine

 

IC: Savage 12-8 (1st. Lt Uller and Capt. DeSade.)
Location: Engaging enemies at the remnants of Wright-Patterson AFB.

*In hindsight, most military planners would have regarded the helicopter strike from Shamrock Lakes to Wright-Patterson as both ill thought out and the result of faulty intelligence work.

However, Lt. Uller could have told any expert that this mission was tantamount to a suicide mission that the Office of Naval Intelligence thrust upon them.

The operation was called Devil Slayer, but both Uller and DeSade had decided to re-name it operation D.A.I (pronounced "die"), an acronym for Dumb Ass Idea.
The plan was to fly 7 attack helicopters from Shamrock Lakes to whatever was left of Wright-Patterson AFB in order to deal a heavy blow to the aliens.
Intelligence had supposedly pointed to Wright-Patterson AFB being a potential landing point for heavier assets, and the top brass did not want this to happen.

However, the attack helicopters were not the main force. Rather, they were going to be a highly visible distraction. No the real damage would supposedly come from everybody's favorite band of misfits nutjobs and sado-masochists, the United States Navy SEALS, and rumor had it that it was Seal Team 6 that was doing this mission.

A unique role reversal, but it was based on tactics that had met with little success against the alien threat. To add insult to injury, the Army commanding officer, a Brigadeer General, had put his buddy, some pissant Lieutenant Colonel with little experience in dealing with the aliens, in charge of the whole operation, rather than the Major in Savage 7-2, another Viper and crew from HMLA-369, one that had a vast amount of experience in fighting the aliens.

The whole mission reeked of half incompetence and stupidity, and there had been talk of mutiny floating around.
However, none of it mattered, because in the end Duty had won out, and the seven chosen crews had flown out.

In addition to Uller and DeSades and the other AH-1Z from HMLA-369, there was an AH-1W from HMLA-773 under the tac name of Cannibal 2-6.
The army had put fourth an AH-64B with the tac name of Red Sword 4-3, and four AH-64Ds, Blue Pike 13-1 and 18-8 and Black Lance 1-3 respectively, all from the 229th Aviation Regiment.
Black Lance 1-3 was the Lieutenant Colonel in charge of the mission, and immediately he ordered the helicopters to fly in a direct skirmish line, turning the individual copters into one long flying snake, and a recipe for disaster.

The route that they took to Wright-Patterson was like a shallow outside hook. This was due to the fact that it took them right along the inside of a series of heavily armed outposts. Supposedly the aliens wouldnt take pot shots at the helicopters in fear of swift retribution from artillery or tanks or what ever else was at the outposts.
For awhile it worked, then the first major problem occoured.

Savage 7-2, the third helicopter in line, had reported no problems at the last check. So the sudden lockdown of their main rotor shaft had not only taken everybody by surprise, but thrown the helicopter into an unrecoverable tumble. It all ended horribly when the Viper plowed into the trees and set almost an acre of bare woods on fire.
Yet Black Lance 1-3 had refused to stop for the stricken Marine helicopter, rather every helicopter was ordered to press on.

Uller had nearly taken the sole AIM-9X he carried onboard and shot the bastard of a Lite Colonel down right then and there, but severe admonishment from DeSade had prevented it.

Not one individual could be certain why the crash of Savage 7-2 had emboldened the aliens, but it had. 15 minutes after the crash, a single blue bolt lanced out from the trees and had struck the AH-64D at the end of the line, Blue Pike 13-1. While just as abrupt, the pilot must have either been superhuman or lucky, for he managed to autorotate down and not explode.

That incident had spurred a reaction from Black Lance 1-3. Immedietely the order was given to drop to the lowest altitude any pilot felt they could hold and increas

 

LPC: Sangheili Ultra Commanding air strike, in the skies over Wright-Patterson Air base

Certainly the humans knew how to die bravely.

It was there one redeeming feature. Though they were vile heathens, they were not cowards. The humans manned their guns and missile launchers even as the flames rolled towards them, as plasma enveloped them, and as Fuel Rod rounds blew them to pieces. Yet still, they persisted in firing upwards.

He shrugged. Bravery was the most common gift of the forerunners.

The mission was nearly complete anyway, no enemy war planes would be taking off from this place for a very long time. The Commander indulged a subordinate's request to make a final close-in attack run. Why not? Most of the remaining banshees and vampires had stayed high in the atmosphere after the humans' initial ugly surprise. Now with fires raging across the entirety of the military installation, the humans were more engaged in damage control. He allowed the eager Junior Sangheili to take his lance into close attack once more.

As he and his banshees formed up and dove for the surface, cannons and plasma blazing, the Sangheili Ultra fondly remembered his own vicious youth: always ready to close with the enemy, utilizing bare aggression and a blaze of fire to carry the day. He also remembered how many of his brethren were cut down in such a fashion. But just this once, he'd allow this youth to have his Glorious Charge.

His instruments beeped at him as it registered new enemy fire, the Ultra thought nothing of it. Probably a half-crazed human with a portable missile launcher, nothing his flyers couldn't handle. But then the ENTIRE lance he detailed for the attack winked out of existance on his display. Enraged, he turned his command banshee towards the source of the human fire and unleashed five measured Fuel Rod Cannon rounds. On his Tac display, they blossomed like brief flowers. The firing ceased, but he was uncertain if the target was destroyed, or if it displaced in time. He preferred the Former.

He was about to signal the withdrawal, when suddenly some of his Vampires were calling in with lock-ons and that they were taking fire as well. He banked slightly, tapping in an order signalling an already depleted lance of banshees to cover the Vampire interceptors. The Vampires were already performing evasive maneuvers, their rear plasma cannons blazing away at the missiles in pursuit.

He shook his head. He choked down his mounting rage at the ingenuity of the humans, and considered the tactical and operational parameters, and decided that they'd achieved their objective, and there was no point in giving the humans more targets while his squadrons could be of use elsewhere.

"Prepare for withdrawal. Ascend to 3rd atmospheric layer, and await pickup. Aerobase Purity's Righteous Wrath will descend for task force retrieval. Covering fire requested."

TAG: Vangarian, Rally_Fan_84

 

Estiphon fired a 100 round burst and the Banshees scattered to avoid impact by the 30mm rounds that sped up to them. The lead one wasn't so lucky and burst into sparklies, much to Anthony's satisfaction.

"Evasive manuevers O'Brian," Estiphon yelled. "They must have gotten wise in the last second. Evade and put her in reverse while your at it."

"Aye-aye, sir," answered O'brian as he slammed the control sticks into the reverse position.

Estiphon whirled the turret around to follow the other targets that broke off and got one in his targeting ring. He fired. It was hit and lost an engine. It went down, but the pilot was good enough to eject before the Banshee crashed.

"Take her foreward fast," yelled Estiphon. "I'll turn the gun around to face rear for anyone on our tail."

Impacts started errupting all around their last location. The Abrams chassi reversed direction and rolled foreward. Obrian started zigzagging with a vengence to avoid the incoming Fuel Rods and Plasma Bolts as they attempted to catch up with their position. Suddenly the assault from above waned. Estiphon swept the skys for targets to take out and found that the choppers he'd heard earlier were firing on the Cuvvies with help from spotters painting the biggest threats.

He saw Sutton's Nimrod doing donut manuveres all over the place while his turret matched the targets and shot skyward. Taking advantage of the respite brought on by the Apaches and Super Cobras.

Estiphon saw a flash followed by a loud bang. O'brian cried out in pain. A Fuel Rod had slammed through the top armor of the hulk and into Obrian's left leg. Obrian grimaced in pain but continued to drive the XM1AA1's chassi, though in ever increasing eratic moves. Estiphon called down to him.

"Can you still drive?" asked Estiphon.

"Yes," called O'Brian, his leg pinned to the seat he sat on by the Fuel Rod. Red was starting to show through the fabric of his leg's jumpsuit.

Estiphon returned to his own seat and scanned the surrounding fields and area. He spotted some Osprey's on fire and noticed someone waving at his vehicle.

"O'Brian! Steer right and head towards that stand of Ospreys over by the parking area. There's someone waving to us. O'Brian turned the vehicle to and went towards the person waving at them. It was a Marine flight Captain with a small number of others in Marine pilot's uniforms, probably the pilot's of the Osprey's he thought. The XM1AA1's chassi rocked as it crossed a crater. Obrian Groaned from the motion, but continued to drive on.

"Turn it about O'brian and back in between the Ospreys," called Estiphon.

O'brian complied and brought the Antiaircraft battery around, then parked it. He slumped back and passed out. Estiphon swept the sky some more for targets and found a Vampire starting to attempt a take down of an Apache. He led it and fired. The barrels roared tunsten rounds to meet the assailent and it was holed like swiss cheese. The Vampire broke up and became an incindiary. He scanned further but found that the numbers of cuvvies were either dwindling or that they were scattering to withdraw or to fight the choppers individually.

"Nimrod's Bow #7, by the Valkry Squadron parking area. My driver's been hit by Fuel Rod fire. He's in need of a medic ASAP. He's punctured in his left leg and pinned to his seat, Over. Estiphon took a chance and got his mini medi-kit out. He worked his way down to where O'Brian was. He was surprised to see him open his eyes when he came near O'brian.

"How's the pain?" he asked.

"How's my leg look?" counter O'brian.

"I've seen worse from time to time," said Estiphon.

"How are we gonna get it out of my leg?" asked O'brian.

"Not now! You'll bleed to death for sure," he chastened. "Let me check with the pilots outside. They may be of help with stopping the bleeding and stablising it first before we get you back to the base hospital."

If there still is one, he thought.

 

TAG: All.

 

LPC: Xysto 'Grontroa, Commander Sangheili scout lance, approaching Cleveland Indiana

'Grontroa called a halt, and drew in his scout forces behind a copse of trees. He'd detected organized human resistance ahead. He studied the data from his sensors, and considered. The main force was just behind, so he decided to see what they intended to do.

"looks to be a few lances worth of foot warriors, entrenched, along with fighting vehicles." he said into the comlink. "A screen, would be my guess. Or possibly scouts like us. My sensors have picked up medium weapons and small arms only. How shall we proceed?"

There was a pause.

*COM* "Have they detected you?"

"I cannot say for certain."

'Grontroa waited a moment, then spoke again.

"Honored one, allow the scout and fast-attack units to take care of it. We can use our speed to sweep them off before they get any ideas about blocking the main force. Permission to attack, Honored one!"

There was another moment of consideration.

"Granted. Wait for the main force to come into view so you can be supported if necessary."

"Understood. Hail out."

Gunning his engine, 'Grontroa issued his orders.

"Organized human resistance spread on the slight inclines in terrain north and mostly south of this wheeled vehicle trail. We will suppress with our plasma cannon as we approach, the Spectre's in overwatch in the rear, and simply overrun them. Understood? Good. Prepare to execute on my signal..."



LPC: Sgt. Gregory "Jack" Jackson, Indiana National Guard, blocking/screen force in Cleveland Indiana.

Geez it was cold. Or maybe it was fear. A bit of columns A and B perhaps?

"Jack" Jackson stood in his fighting hole and looked to the east, where smoke reached skyward like creeping vines. The aliens were taking their time getting moving. Or again, maybe it was just fear making everything seem longer. For the millionth time he wondered if his family had been evacuated, he wondered if he'd do his duty as well as the marines to his right, he wondered if he would... make it.

He shook it off and tried to stay focused, scanning the horizon for the enemy. In a way, he hoped they wouldn't come. Maybe they decided to hook north or south, or maybe they decided to engage in diplomacy or...

No chance. in the distance, he saw about twenty alien vehicles emerge from behind a small forest. They spread out in a formation and accelerated towards them. strobing plasma flashed from the prows of the vehicles, peppering the crests and peaks of the rough ground where they were dug in. He ducked down as a plasma toroid flashed against the lip of his fighting position. The brightness induced floating purple shapes on his cornea. Shaking, he raised himself up to look. The alien vehicles continued to advance, firing all the while. The black dirt where he'd dug in, had taken on an obsidian quality where the plasma had given it's sun-hot caress.

Sphincter clenching, he clicked the safety off his M4. Here we go.

TAG: Vangarian, Rally_Fan_84, Sanctimoniously

 

GM Approved:

Name: Michael Kevin Bastin, AKA "Red" Bastin.

Age: 22 years.

Service: United States Marines (Force Recon).

MOS: 0302 (Infantry Officer).

Rank: Second Lieutenant.

Weapons: Knight Industries M110 (w. Night Sight/Thermographic Sight) 7.62 x 51 100rnd
Magazine with 8 backups. Side arm Para-Ordinance P-14 in 45 caliber w. Rhino
rnds.

Platoon Weapons: M32 six shot Grenade Launcher w. 40 mm Mercury Rounds, M110 w.
20" barrel AS 50 or M82A3 (AMR w. Night Sights/Thermographic Sights),
AA12 w. 32 rnd. drum magazine and Frag12 HE rounds. Also Para-Ordinance
P-14 Semi-automatic pistols w. Rhino rnds.

Equipment: Dragon Skin II Body Armor. Demolitions (C4), Radio transmitter w. radio
controled primers.

BIO: Red wasn't the kind of Marine who just marched in to die. He was the kind of Marine
who was smart enough to do his best to make the enemy die. He was tapped for
Officer's training and did well now he's out to do just that with his Platoon.

 

Time meer moments pryer to the initial attack against The National Guards and Marine Recon platoon assigned to Cleveland, Indiana:

Lt. Mike Bastin was in the mood for a fight. He'd been given a choice of missions and wanted to learn all he could about how the Cuvvies applied their strategy and tactics in an open field of combat. He figured since their was no formal treaty of how their opposing sides could apply their resources of warfare. He could adlib outside the interhuman rules of engagement and general warefare, since their was no Geneva Convention agreement with the Covenant and there had been some atrocities that had been seen at a distance, there was nothing to prohibit the use of counter atrocities against them. The indiscriminant killing of civilians, the elderly, women and children would not be tolerated. Not on his watch!

"Red 1 this is Red 2."

"You see 'em show boatin by that large stand of trees south of 40 to the east?"

"Copy that Red 2 their setting up to pass just north of our stand of trees towards the guard," said Mike from his vantage point. "Do the cross fire thing first with AMRs. Hit them from the sides where they're protection is weakest when they turn towards you we'll pop up and hit them from behind. When they come on in force, pop the claymores. If Bansheees and other ground attacks come in, gage their distance. Far: Stingers. Medium: AMRs. Any closer: Then use your M110s 1st, M32 Six Packs 2nd and AA12 with the Frag 12s 3rd.

"Sir their forming up into a V and charging the Guards' position!" called his spotter.

"Look sharp this has got to work the first time!" Red shouted "When they pass that ditch hit 'em like I told you!"

"Yes, sir!" they called back.

The Scout Lance sped towards the Guard positions, holding their v formation as they charged towards them with their plasma cannons firing. Then they passed the ditch and the AMRs to the north went to work and cut down the three lead Armored speeders. The three of them continued but their fellows spotted the dead pilots as they slumped down from their seated positions. The armored speeders began to loose formation as the pilots' bodies started flopping over the controls of the speeders. Other speeders began evading their impaired comrades at first in confusion, followed by diciplined evasion and scouring about seeking who was responcible. Now it was Red's team's turn to give 'em a hot pocker up the A#*. He and his shooters began firing as they turned northward towards his other squad. They lost four more speeders. Seven of them split off and turned back in his direction. He signaled the National Guard to pour it on now that they had clear shots. The Guard was only too happy to join in on the turkey shoot. The rear speeders started getting hit from their original direction of intent. Intel was right on the money about the leaded paint on canvas for cover against their sensors. It seemed to do the trick from a distance at least. Red smiled in anticipation as the lead speeders were approaching. They were firing their plasma cannons furiously now so as to repay for their humiliation.

"Come on, he whispered as the five remaining speeders of the seven approached another ditch from the north. Red set off his remote detonator and a line of clamores shot thousands of beebees into the fast approaching speeder line. They seemed to launch off of their air cushions or whatever it was they used for flotation. As they crested, they began to tumble backward into a rear first crash dive. They hit with all the splender of a bunch of potato sacks.

"Shooters take 'em out!" He called. Red heard the detonation of the Claymores to the north side of the killing ground as his shooters made quick work of the stunned pilots and gunners of the scouting lance. Second Squad caught them with their pants down and were cutting down the survivors.

"Time!" He called. "Move out to second location of ambush! Watch out for approaching Banshees!"

Force Recon relocated to their

 

Character Sheet:

GM APPROVED!!!
Name: Dennis H. Gunter

Age: 22

Service: United States marine Corps

Military Occupational Specialty (MOS): Sniper

Rank: 2nd Lieutenant

Weapons:M203 Sniper rifle(50 caliber), and a small caliber pistol

Bio: Dennis was born and raised int the state of New York. He served in the police Force as a SWAT team Sniper. He finished colage Majoring in World history and Geography. Is currently a Troop leader for his sons boy scout troop, at least when he isn't playing solider as his wife says. He's fresh out of training and is itching for action.

 

Location and Time: Wright Patterson AFB, OHIO. 30 minutes after the Covenant Attack, Emergency Rescue Teams including PJs were scouring about searching for the wounded. Valkry Squadron's compliment had been dealt with along with Specialist O'Brian who along with the wounded from VMM-268 were carted off to the base Hospital.

Estiphon and his two replenished platoons were now searching for the downed Banshee Pilot, along side of Base Security who brought along plenty of German Shepards to sniff and track down the surviving Covenant Pilot. The dogs having been trained to discern different Covenant Species had almost immediately caught the scent of the pilot (a Shangheili) near the crash site of the downed Banshee.

There had been an aggressive effort by the Covenant to recover their lost pilot but it had failed with yet another prize attained. A new kind of shuttle with more fire power. Word had it that one of the earlier POWs, an Engineer from the captured scout ship, refered to this one as a Phantom. Delta was handling security on that one's capture.

"Sir, Tuffy's going nuts! He's giving me the signal that the quarry's really close."

They had made it to the forest line past the farm field north west of the river and highway 3. The pilot was inside the woods.

"Loose 'em on my signal. Get ready for a fight," said Captain Witkowski.

Everybody was as tense as a compressed coil spring ready to pop free of it's A arms as the seven K-9 handlers readied their dog's for release. They'd heard about what had happened to five SEALs from Devgru's finest and knew that this pilot could be as well equiped to fight as the last one from New Orleans.

"Now!" he yelled.

The Sheperd's dashed off into the woods as the rest of the groups of men sprinted after them. Seven seconds of hard running followed and then they heard the sheperds engage their prey. It bellowed it's rage and more then one dog yelped and shrieked in pain as green flashes eminated from ahead. Sheperds were leaping at what appeared as thin air, except that the air seemed to be wielding some kind of weapon that was killing them one by one. Air Force Security and first platoon reached the point of contact at the same time, with second platoon bringing up the rear. Sutton's men formed a semi circle on the back side of the fight at twenty yards. Air Force security drew special sidearms for the occasion and began firing. Tasers lanced out to their target like cobra's spit. Some of them hit home in flesh with outstanding results. The Shengheili pilot convulsed with the barrage of electricution. The four remaining Sheperds had released him as soon as their handlers had kneeled to fire their tasers. As he shook with electric shock the Shangheili pilot lost his balance and fell head long into a large puddle of mud. He tryed to rise. He really did. But a second round of tasers shot out towards him and he was jolted to the ground again. Captain Witkowski radioed for a collection team to hustle up and retrieve the downed pilot. The handlers got to work pulling the sheperds back and examined them for wounds, those that were not dead already. The collection team arrived within five minutes and removed the pilot's armor and weapons, then bound him in armoralloyed manacles. This done he was placed inside a special carrying cage for retrieval back to Wright Patterson.

"Good catch," said Estiphon to Captain Witkowski.

"Thanks Commander," said Witkowski. "We'll get better with more practice."

The collection team gathered up their prize and started heading back towards Wright Patterson with Base security as escort.

By the time they reached Wright Patterson word had gotten out that Major Todd Michaelson was going to live, though he'd never be flying an Osprey again let alone anything else with rotors or wings. Still Estiphon received it at face value and took the news as the beginning of a wave of hope with the possibility of more to come...and good news was bound to pick up some moral around he

 

OCC: I would like to apologies over a miss quote. I mistakenly quoted a statement by Sutton, Estiphon's second in command of DEVGRU-ST6. I actually ment Captain Jerry Connecky Marine Major Michaelson's second in command of Valkry Squadron who had stated that Major Michaelson was severly wounded and in need of medical attention. Sorry but some times I make posts that are late at night and I'm a bit blurry eyed when that happens. I also would like to retract the identification of the mobile AA battery as a Rail Gun in a Gatling confguration. The units were limited to conventional 30mm high velocity sabot rounds from a slapped together fabrication. effectively a M1AA1 with a custom turret re-engineered to accommidate a GAU/8 cannon. Like I said slapped together. Maybe I should have indentified it as Frankenstein's Bow#7, Etc. Sorry.

Vangarian

 

In Game: Light Infantry Screen, outside of Cleveland Indiana

Two Banshees reared up just over the treetops. They blazed away with plasma cannon and fuel rod guns, covering the withdrawal of the savaged scout lance.

A stinger lit up from the broken ground, It quested towards the Banshee twins. One dropped, engaging in evasives. The other twisted along its arc and fired a stream of plasma, blowing the missile out of the sky. But they took the hint and dropped down below the treeline again.

The Spectres in overwatch blazed away with their Plasma cannons as the Ghosts pulled back, humiliated, to the cover of the trees. The ground in the fire sack rippled and gouted as human artillery dropped, a mixture of quickfuze and airburst munitions.

Xysto 'Grontroa, angry at himself and the craftiness of the humans, still allowed his military mind to work. It made sense that the artillery was a screen for the human vehicles and soldiers to withdraw to another prepared position to try again. He flipped the comlink in his Ghost.

"Negative Success. Scout lance has suffered high casualties. Humans scouts are abandoning their position and falling back."

He awaited the response, which came in a moment.

"Re-join forward attack lances. Advance quickly and aggressively. Catch the humans in the open and reduce them."

As these words were spoken, about a dozen Shadow infantry-carriers and a smattering of Spectre's an Ghosts came into view. Forward attack elements. Heavily armed Unggoy,Kig Yar, and Sangheili rode in the Shadows, their weapons and armor gleaming in the cold light. 'Grontroa whipped his ghost back into line, just as the task force began to accelerate towards the human settlement. The humans were clever, but the covenant had learned their lesson. Now the insolence would be repaid tenfold...


IC: Major Joe Olsen, Commanding First Tank battalion, Bloomington, Indiana.

With the officers huddled into the four seats around him, Olsen grimly gave the news.

"Warning order. We're to disembark here and take the battalion north on 37 north. We'll rendezvous with friendly units in the city of Martinsville, and then head east on 44 to Shelbyville. There we'll take route 9 right up to Greenfield where we'll get additional orders." He drew on a map. "It seems as though the rail station in Indianapolis has already been hit hard. So, we march from here. Radio silence all the way, but we'll be listening for new orders."

Olsen looked at the grim-faced group of officers. A long road march like that would probably lead to some breakdowns, fighting against traffic jams caused by refugees, and maybe even strafing. To prevent that, Olsen planned to place his Air defense units as penny-packets amongst the march column, but still...

"Let's move people. Hoowah."

"Hoowah" came the tired reply, everyone leapt to get to work.

TAG: Anybody

OOC: Littledawg, maybe you want to be dug in somewhere in Greenfield where you can pot the occasional Covenant soldier.

 

Blunting the Covenant's Spear at Cleveland, Indiana:
03/08/09 3:15 pm. Beginning of the second wave.

Red noticed the strategy of the Covenant Recon Lance's scouts, a mixture of Ghosts and Specters now. They numbered eight in all, four of each type. They were forming up again for another charge in hast to catch the retreating National Guardsmen before they made it to the second skirmish line they'd prepared in advance.

"Recon!" he bellowed in his mic. "Drop prone and cover the Guard's A#*!"

Red called in for fire support to start again with a drop of 100 yards. Then he realised with horror that they were accelerating too fast to catch even in the adjusted fire sack! Plus a new bunch of yahoos were bringing up the rear of the Scout Lance's lead. They appeared to be Troop carriers of some sort. Long of frame with single plasma turrets blazing away on top near the bow close to where the pilot sat. Intel refered to them as Shadows. These were slower than the Ghosts and Specters that raced on ahead towards the withdrawing Troops.

His men now laying flat and firing at the oncoming Scout Lance, Red's men with two AMRs, three M-110s and three M32 Six Packs began pounding at the speeding Scout Lance as it raced on towards the National Guardsmen who by now were almost to their next trench. As the Scouts had accelerated no plasma fire was forth coming. But now that they were up to speed the Spectres and Ghosts began making up for lost time. Five Guardsmen were incinerated as their fellows dove into the next trench and found cover while they prepared to answer back in kind. Both of Red's squads took out two Ghosts and two Specters between the two of them. Even so they stayed their course and kept nailing the Guard's line. As the remaining four sped past, the Guards popped back up with fresh Stingers and fired at their tails, then hunkered back down as the approaching Shadows began opening up on them from the east. Eight Stingers raced up the rears of the departing Spectres and Ghosts. Both Ghosts died as did one of the Spectres. The lead one's Gunner was turned about face in time to save himself and his Pilot but sustained minor damage as a result of the near miss explosion when his plasma stutterfired at the approaching missle. The Spectre withdrew, crippled.

Red heard 'it' coming. He looked and saw that the Shadows were just coming up to the newly called Fire Sack's position.

"Incoming!" Red yelled as the new mix of air burst and antipersonel rounds came in and played havoc with the twelve Shadow Troop Carriers flying low and into a massive barrage of artillary fire from seventeen miles away. The first four Shadow's bought it as they raced in. Their hulls groaned with secondary explosions, blinding those that were behind them.

Red's Recon Platoon opened up on those that were bottle necked behind before they could even think of rerouting around their fallen brethren ahead of them. The Guard popped back up with seven AT-4CSs and fired at the slowed Shadows as they cleared around the burning hulks. It was turning into a slaughter! By now the Banshees who had taken cover from the Stinger fired earlier, attempted to intervene and provide cover fire for any withdrawal of their fellow troops. From side to side they weaved a stitching of plasma fire at Red's Platoon. Three of Red's men died as a result.

The Guards took the opportunity to answer for their fallen Comrades and fired five more stingers at the twins. Meer seconds later, they fell in pieces to the ground, never to rise again.

The Spear Lance of the Covenant's Scouts had been blunted...for now...

A half hour later, Red Bastin's Force Recon was on the move with three volunteers from the Indiana National Guard, all very familiar with the surrounding country and its natural secrets that only locals like them would know. They were heading in country to the east to a predetermined spot where the guardsmen knew of a hiding place they could lay low and observe the enemy up close and personal. They had

 

Major Todd S. Michaelson was breathing soundly and had been taken off O2. The Base surgeons had done all they could for the time being. polyurithane pouches with a mixture of medicinals slowly dripped down through his IV tubes. They had removed what was left of his left arm resulting from the plasma blossom that had ravaged his left side during the ground attack the day before. Had it not been for the Dragon Skin Body Armor that they all now slept in for protection...well Todd would have died like Mitch and Tori did. Jerry's eyes misted as he watched Todd fight for recovery. He remembered what he'd heard as he ran towards Valkry 1's flaming hull. Todd had been in such a hurry he'd driven the SUV up into the Osprey's hold to get to the ramp gun soonest. They'd tried. They all had tried so valiantly to fight the Covenant. Mitch and Tori from Valkry 12 weren't just gone. Even their tags were melted.

His sigh almost came out a sob.

"D*** them to Hell, he thought to himself. We've always been a nation of such great potential. If there was ever a time for us to shine in our darkest hour it was NOW !

Jerry rubbed his eyes for a minute and returned his gaze back at Todd. The Major was a scrapper, a fighter and a hero. He'd flown many missions before this war got started and had brought help and relief to many soldiers and other people who were in need of aid in both Iraq and Afghanistan. Whether under combat conditions or even behind enemy lines. He never allowed his hide to become too coarse and thus become an unfeeling monster nor too soft. He'd always had the right response to any given situation. He was the embodiment of honor. He was Jerry's Mentor. Pick up the flag, son. It's your turn to soar with the Eagles now. It's your turn to shine in our nation's time of darkness. Always carry the flag with honor.

"I was told I would find you here," an older voice spoke from behind. Startled from his thoughts Captain Connecky turned, then saluted Base Commander, Colonel William "Jake" Soronsen. Soronsen returned his salute.

"At ease, Captain. I'll be brief and to the point." The Colonel cleared his throat. "We are in the midst of transition from one form of warfare to another in this war against the Covenant Forces that have landed on earth and our nation in particular. In many ways we may yet find ourselves in similar circumstances to those that Nazi Germany found itself in during the closing months of the World War II in Europe. While America and her allies fought their way to the Rhine and beyond towards Berlin, the Germans were working on a number of different and phenominally advanced means of-not only carrying on the war-but turning the tables of it against the allies. When we won that war. We won it by the skin of our teeth. They were about to start unleashing weapons that broke the-then-laws of physics dailey. Don't ever let anyone tell you that the Germans were stupid. Fanatical? Yes. Stupid? No. We've inherited much of that technology but have let it sit and rot because the Germans followed a kind of idealogy that included the occult with their science. That and they were believers in the ETHER, at polar opposition to Bhor's and Heizenburg's Copenhagen Interpretation. Which is now only starting to erode and give way back towards Tesla's way of thinking as to how the Universe exists and behaves. We can't afford to loose like they did at the end of the European campaign. We need Major Michaelson to take command of the scientific community here at Wright Patterson ASAP. We need you to take command of Valkry Squadron ASAP. I'm not the one to promote you to Major but Marine Brigader General Elias Brant is."

Major Soronsen turned in anticipation and in walked Marine General Elias T. Brant, who no doubt had been just outside the door waiting to be invited in. Brant held up his hand.

"At ease, Captain Connecky," he said smoothly. "We're here to get VMM-268 back in the air again. We've got the 1st Division's 1st Tank

 

The dilapedated rear door of the abandoned farm house, shattered inward from the savage kick of an alien armored foot. Two Jackels each threw in a plasma Grenade and retreated back out of range to let them clear the house of any insurgents. The double explosion blew out the door's remains and several windows in the back portion of the house. Both Jackels charged in and fired their plasma rifles into closets and up the hallway towards the front while three Grunts shot through bedroom windows that had already lost their glass from age and abuse. Their Elite commander signaled them to cease fire and to enter as back up to the jackels. The Grunts obeyed and ran in, weapons at the ready. The Elite strode up the back steps and followed at a leaserly pace. Seven seconds later the old farm house got its roof raised and its walls collapsed. The occupants were crushed by the returning roof, as it hit bottom. The Pilot of the dispatched Spirit was stunned by the pyrotechnics. This was nothing compared to what he was meer seconds later when his access door snapped open without his permission. This was followed by a rush of humans into his face as he turned to ascertain why his access door opened to begin with. Red Bastin's Force Recon Platoon with three National Guard volunteers had taken the fight to the Covenant shuttle.

"Jack, get the weapons from the bays. If you spot any plasma Grenades get them gathered up. We'll be making use of them PDQ," said Red. "Check for any of that binding goo they use, too while you're at it."

"On it, sir," replied Sargent Jackson.

Red had plans for that refurbishment facility. Now he was going to act on them. First though, he had to take out the operators of the Shade turrets surounding the facility.

Tag: Deiskrad, Sanctimoniously, Others.

 

The operation's crew of the Heavy Factory cheered when they say the human habitat convulse, blown up, then collapse down. Supposing that human remnents or insurgents had been responsible for the earlier attempted artillary barrage, they gleefully watched as the hovel burned. They returned back to they're work and their facility commander an elite transmitted his congradulations to the Spirit's security combat team leader. When no answer was forth coming, he snorted and returned to his duties at hand. That of initiating repairs to the damage done to his facility from the The fighting at the initial point of contact was progressing though at times there were more casualties then he would have cared for. That's why the Locusts and Scarabs were being produced to crush the resistance. If there were any that were damaged from combat action, that's where his facility came into play. K'Taf Tukamosac received a call in for a replacement assignment of a Scarab as one had been damaged by human Artillary Fire. He entered the commands for a Scarab with an improved shield array to stave off artillary assault from the humans. Factory personal got to work loading ingots of combat alloy into the furnace for structure formation. Others commenced with rolling up power generators and motivators to energise and motivate the war machines according to size and power requirements.

"Sir," called the vice operator, "the troop shuttle that was called in to investigate the abondoned human dwelling is approaching the factory."

"Have they contacted us for maintenance service?" asked K'Taf Tukamosac.

"No sir they haven't. Perhaps their communications are out of commision."

"Send the Maintenance inspection team out to find the problem. I'll continue with command's order of the Scarab. While your at it send out the security team too.".

"Yes sir, hail!" answered the vice operator.

Red Bastin Smiled as Specialist 3rd class Tip Perry eased the controls forward in order to move the Spirit towards the Refurbishment and Repair Facility. He noticed that the Facility was active and in the process of doing something, though what he wasn't sure. Some alien personnel exited the the modular building. He then frowned as aliens totting weapons also exited to watch over the repair process to his captured Spirit shuttle. He gauged his chances.

"Jackson, we've got some cannon toting types that exited the fix it building. Can you and Meyers do me a favor and take them out as we take out the Turret Gunners?" asked Red.

Can do, Leutenant," answered Jackson.

The security detachment approached the landing Spirit shuttle as it turned about placing its fork prongs aimed towards the Heavy Factory. The individual bay doors slid open to reveal darkened bays. Suddenly the air was filled with plasma grenades, thrown from the troop bays at the approaching Factory Security Team. Five of them found a target. They managed to roar and try to charge their antaganists only to be blown up. Thus ending their lives and that of the sent repair team as well. The four turrets on the shuttle's side of the huge building were targeted with Force Recon's two M-107s. All four of them were killed. Jackson took the weapons of the dead Security detachment and distributed them amongst his men. Red exited the shuttle through the rear ramp and with his men, dashed towards the entrance to the facility. With a team of five plus Perry to handle both the electronics and data acquisition, Red wanted to pull a data raid. The Human/Covenant Data interface was designed during the interum between the initial capture of the Covenant Scout Ship and the Covenant's actual arrival to Earth with help from a Covenant Engineer. He figured that if he could capture the data base he'd be able to deliver it into US hands. Perhaps he could make the difference for the war effort against the Covenant with this data for them to glean through. Red's team dashed up and followed the curved walk way up past workstations and control modules. Finally they reached the mast