Battlezone II: Lost Legacy
by Admiral Kelley
Please observe that I dont own anything that originated from the Activision game Battlezone II and anything else is completely mine and is subject to my own unique brand of copyright law. Those who try to rip off my story or steal any of my ideas without at least mentioning where you got them in your story monologue will result in me sending a crack team of highly paid lawyers addicted to human flesh to come rip you apart piece by piece. Now with the legal crap out of the way I encourage you to sitback, relax, and enjoy reading Battlezone II: Lost legacy pt1 by Admiral Kelley. You are also encouraged to give this story honest reviews so I can polish pt.2 up a bit unless you have something really negative to say in which case I encourage you to lie creatively.
Please note that this story takes place after the first war with the Scions and is a continuation of the Scion side storyline. If you dont know what I'm talking about then ask somebody who does.
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"Beginning landing approach", was all the warning the troops aboard the Equinox had before the massive duel engines flared to life with a thundering roar which was audible even through the ships reinforced hull and the troops battle suits. It never failed to make Cmdr. Tim Robertson grin when the green troops barfed in their helmets from the sudden jolts of atmospheric entry and the added torture the inner ear received from the vibrations caused by the retro boosters. That effect was lost however on the more senior members of Wraith squadron since they had done it many times before enough so that they somehow adapted to the abusive nature of insertions. In fact this was one of the smoothest entries Robertson had ever experienced due to the almost non existent atmosphere of Core the Scions newly created homeworld. Then came a second corous of lunch reviews as the ship made what seemed like a hard starport turn to the south where the ISDF's only spaceport was currently located where on Earth the South Pole would be.
Robertson stole a quick glance outside the viewpoint one of the few luxuries that a commander got but a welcome one at that. It was a completely alien landscape that varied dramatically from Earth and appeared to have been constructed by a mad architect. Pillars of light erupted from the ground spewing forth radiant blue light and odd looking towers which seemed to have no purpose were strewn about everywhere as far as the eye could see and then some. In a sense the planet seemed to be organic which was technically true according to many scientific studies that had concluded that Core was made almost entirely out of bio-metal which ment that it possibly was a living breathing organism and that it had a soul. None of this mattered to Cmdr. Robertson as he looked away from his viewport and continued to take some perverse amusement from the suffering of the newbies which was slackening somewhat as the huge dropship slowed its decent a few hundred meters over the spaceport and made for the only pad big enough to accommodate it at the moment.
Below, the spaceport designated Cloud-9 by some smartass in the Ops center was in a flurry of activity as Scion and ISDF haulers alike scurried about securing ships and cargo. The ships massive engines flared one last time to make the landing as smooth as possible not so much for the human cargoes comfort but ensure that the assorted tanks and supplies were not damaged from the shock. After a few moments there came the familiar jolting thump as the landing gear announced that they had found solid ground. It took a few seconds for the shock absorbers to quit bouncing the ship around but before long they were completely still and ready to disembark for what was supposed to be a quiet tour of duty. But before the straps came off the crash seats a red light blinked above the main hatch indicating that they had one minute to secure their life-support gear to themselves before the inside was flooded with the planets atmosphere.
Though as a precaution Robertson had ordered his squadron to already have their gear ready to go before they launched from the carrier for safety reasons meaning that the newbies would have to wait until they finished their duties for the day and got inside the pressurized barracks before they could clean off lunch from the inside of their suits. After exactly one minute came the hissing sound of the environmental pumps replacing the human friendly atmosphere with the lethal gasses found outside the walls of the ship so that the troops wouldn't have to experience the joys of explosive decompression which Robertson knew from experience was not fun. It took a total of five minutes to match up the inner troops compartment with the outside atmosphere before the red blinking light switched to a solid green which ment that it should be safe to open the hatch. Robertson stood up as the crashseat straps released him and walked with his XO Lt. Anderson up to the hatch as the rest of the troops attempted to adapt themselves to Cores strange lighter than Earth gravity.
As Robertson punched in the code required to open the door he hoped that the computer hadn't goofed on equalizing the pressure as it was known to do sometimes and deliver him and Anderson a rapid exit from the compartment and a few hundred meters out with his head stuck in the ground. The code checked out and then came the familiar grinding noise as the hatch rolled into the bulkhead and the ramp lowered at a rather steep angle to the ground where an single Scion was waiting. Robertson had just finished fighting a war with the Scions and was having a hard time adapting to the idea that the Scions were now friends. Robertson could see that Anderson felt the same way as she stiffened up slightly upon seeing the Scion at the foot of the ramp after all the last time either of them had seen a Scion was at gunpoint. The CO and XO of Wraith squadron took their time descending the ramp to greet the person at the other end.
Cmdr. Robertson was the first to reach the bottom and was greeted by the Scion over the squadron radio since the atmosphere made regular vocal communication damn near impossible. "Welcome to Core Commander, I trust you and your comrades had a pleasant flight?" said the Scion with what sounded to both Anderson and Robertson like a glint of sarcasm.
Scions can have a sense of humor? Thought Robertson, Perhaps this wont be such a boring assignment after all. Before either of the officers could muster up a greeting of their own the Scion thrust into each of their hands a datapad displaying an inventory of their transports supplies and where they could stash them and some helpful soul had loaded a map showing them what was where and more importantly the barracks they would be staying in since no two spaceports were the same a fact that officers all over the ISDF bitched about when supplies and vehicles went where they weren't supposed to. "Uhh, thanks" said Robertson before he looked up and noticed the Scion was already running like Hell over to another recently arrived transport to pass out datapads before the commanders and their squadrons scattered to make their nests in the assorted barracks and hangars.
"Polite little bastards aren't they" commented Lt. Anderson as she noted the Scions speedy departure. She had made only a cursory glance at her pad noting only where the troops needed to end up at the end of the day and where to stick their weapons.
"They certainly are XO" said Robertson as he gestured up the ramp "Why dont you make sure Paddy gets a copy of this list along with a map for everybody. I dont want another fracas like last time when we wandered into the wrong bar at the wrong time."
"Yessir and by the way sir might I add that you have an excellent right hook."
Robertson had to grin at that as he remembered the far from sober individuals who had decided that he and his squadron would be easy pickings. "Thankyou XO now get going I want that gear stashed in an hour, I'll be in Ops with the General if you need me. If all goes to plan I'll meet you at the barracks at around 2100."
"Aye sir" said Anderson as she sped back up the ramp and Cmdr. Robertson made a b-line for the nearest transport.
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The ride through the bases tunnels was thouroghy uneventful for Robertson though he was sitting across from three Scion officers who were apparently heading to the same place as he. Robertson had tried to get some sleep but because he had three Scions sitting across from him and his customized pulse rifle strapped in his backpack case his instincts would not allow him to fall asleep for fear of waking up to three grinning Scion faces with his own weapon at his head. So Robertson was relieved greatly when the Scions didn't follow him off the transport when it stopped in Ops and he got off and headed down the corridor to the double armored doors seemingly guarded by only two heavily armed soldiers. But Robertson knew better and spotted the small cracks in the tunnels walls that would pop out at a moments notice to reveal a rapid fire laser or heat seeking grenade or some other nasty surprise for anybody brave or stupid enough to try and force their way into Ops. Robertson saluted the guards and gave the proper voiced code which was "Howdy Partner" then moved between the guards and entered a series of digits into a small security console which beeped an affirmative and opened the double doors into the decontamination chamber.
Once there Robertson went over and put his hands to the wall spread eagle like and let the chamber soak him in chemicals to disinfect him for passage into the atmosphere of the base. Once that was done Robertson quickly closed his eyes as a flash of light dried him and the chamber completely off. Then a green light above the door ahead of him signaled that the process was over and a small panel opened revealing a number pad for him to input the last damn code for this whole process. With that done Robertson waited for a minute while the chamber pumped in the proper amount of oxygen and nitrogen to accommodate a human and then removed his helmet when the hissing stopped taking a long breath and coughing from the strong smell the chemicals left behind. Ahead of him the door opened revealing a very busy Ops center thankfully with only a few Scions present.
Robertson looked around the circular room and couldn't spot the general out at first. This didn't worry him since the general would make himself known to everyone in the room very soon. "What the Hell do you mean the south arrays are out again, you said they'd been fixed this morning damnit!" came a loud voice that could only be General Alistar himself from the center of Ops where a large screen table was located to give the general and his associates overview of a battle should there ever be one.
"B-B-ut sir" came the nervous reply of an aide who was obviously new to dealing with the general. "The repair teams report that the electronics are being effected by the atmosphere and they don't have the proper sealant to protect them."
"Well have you put in an order for the sealant?" came the irate reply of a general who probably hadn't slept for awhile.
"N-n-no s-sir." was the reply and Robertson almost felt sorry for the hapless aide as he stood there not wanting to interrupt the general in the middle of a good chewing out which he knew the general enjoyed a great deal.
"Then put the damn order in! I will not sit here and be shot in the ass from a surprise attack because some piece of silicone decided it doesn't like the weather! Now get the order out be-" said the general before he noticed Robertson standing across the room obviously waiting for him. "Bout time you showed up commander, get your ass in my office!" then General James T. Alistar looked back to the aide and spoke to him in a low dangerous tone saying "If I were you I'd make myself scarce until I got some good news." with those final words General Alistar stormed off into his office and only when the doors had closed did everyone in the Ops center breath a collective sigh of relief.
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"Good to see you again James!" said Robertson as soon as the door to General Alistar's office closed and nobody could hear their conversation.
"Likewise Tim." said Alistar as he sat down in his chair and reached into his desk to pull out a small bottle of Bourbon which he poured into three glasses. One of those went to his longtime friend and perhaps his finest Spec. Ops. Commander Tim Robertson.
Robertson accepted the glass and took a small sip and let the pleasant feeling of the drink wash over his body and allowed himself to feel a little more relaxed. He took another short sip and eyed the third cup which Alistar had poured.
"Expecting somebody James?" said Robertson motioning to the third glass sitting on the edge of his desk.
"Actually hes already here" said Alistar.
"What?" said Robertson feeling a little confused right then. Then almost as if on cue a shape detached itself from the shadows and moved toward the desk picking up the glass with unseen fingers. Robertson was startled out of his relaxed state and drew his riffle in a heartbeat instincts screaming that there was danger about. Robertson had his sights on the most likely spot where the creatures body mass would be and was about to pull the trigger when the shape suddenly became visible revealing itself o be a Scion with the markings of a Supreme Commander on his armored chest.
"Please calm yourself commander I did not mean to startle you." said the now plainly visible Scion. Robertson reluctantly put away his rifle and saw the smile on Alistars face which Robertson took to mean that this particular Scion posed no major threat at the moment. The Scion then lifted it to his face which was surprisingly human in appearance only without hair and took a long pull.
"Commander Robertson meet Padisha Burns of the Scion collective." said Alistar.
"Delighted I'm sure" said Robertson extending his hand to shake the leader of the Scions in a friendly greeting which Burns returned with short shake of his own not trying to display dominance or anything of the like. "Umm, No offense Burns but how the Hell-" started Robertson before he was cut off by the Padisha.
"How the Hell did I accomplish that little trick?" said Burns who now had a grin on his face along with a bourbon glass in hand making him look alarmingly human. "I manipulated the bio-metal in my body to match my skin to my outer surroundings, a useful trick which takes some time to master." the Scion replied. Deep down Robertson thanked whatever God made it so that trick was not a common trait among the Scion soldiers. That would have made an extravehicular battle a cast iron bitch to win against a Scion.
"I hate to interrupt this bonding experience" said Alistar
"But there is a reason I wanted you here instead of in that Hellhole of activity in Ops Center, Burns if you would please activate the map."
"Yes General" replied Burns as he pushed a button on the desk console activating a holographic map which displayed a large sector of Core somewhere around the equator judging by the sector coordinates. "For the past several weeks we have been losing contact with some of our Warrior platoons moving across this sector along with an entire regiment of Maulers just yesterday. Satellite recon from both our units and yours have failed to reveal the location of the missing vehicles or their pilots. We have sent manned patrols out for recon also but many of those have disappeared and the ones that returned reported finding nothing, not even scrap from a fight. But there are also other things that make this situation even stranger."
"Yes" replied Alistar. "ISDF units have also begun to disappear from here as well ranging from Sabre tank platoons to an entire division of Sentinels yesterday at almost the exact same time as the disappearance of the Scion Maulers.
"Damn" whistled Robertson as he reviewed the missing units list which contained enough fire power to make any commander sweat about engaging. "Whats this name here mean, Centurion-4? I think thats how its pronounced."
Burns and Alistar traded a look probably deciding who gave out the bad news. Then Alistar spoke, "Centurion-4 is one of our firebases situated along the equator. We lost contact a few hours ago and satellite recon reports that the buildings are in pristine condition but there is no activity in or around the base. It's one of our experimental bases where we're trying to combine Scion and ISDF technology together so far with good success." Burns looked up from the map and finally spoke.
"Do you have any thoughts on how these units might have been stolen?" asked the Padisha who was clearly not happy that some of his people had gone missing.
"Yea, its simple enough to get the Warriors and Sabres. All you need do is position a few snipers on the hills here and here." said Robertson pointing to the spots where the vehicles paths passed. "Its only a fifty meter shot and fairly easy for anybody with half a brain but as for the Maulers and Sentinels they have no cockpit canopy that a sniper round can penetrate, I dont see how the Hell anybody could of made off with them unless the pilots got out and left the hatches open, and I certainly hope we dont have this many people in our respective armies who are that stupid." said Robertson finishing his statement.
"Yes we were thinking along the same line" said Alistar "but we've sent scouting parities out after them and those who return report nothing which brings us to the reason why you're here. As of 1700 today I'm setting all installations on alert status three and no additional troop movement by land is to be made. Since none of our scouting parties have reveled anything useful to us we're betting that we could get some answers out of Centurion-4 so you and five of your squadron mates will be moving out in an hour to scout the base out and report back what you find." Alistar then sat down in his chair and handed Robertson a disk full of intelligence info and the mission profile which could be uploaded into his own personal data pad.
"But sir" objected Robertson, "my squadron has just landed and are without a full compliment of vehicles and support craft"
"I realized that Tim so I've arranged for you to "borrow" some of Gold Squadrons Thunderbolts from whats left of the second fleet for the job. You'll be inserted by the Equinox approximately one thousand meters from your objective. Once you've completed your recon or you run into any opposition you can head to the dust-off point here five-hundred meters south east of your objective. Any questions?"
asked Alistar before he and Burns stood up and shook Robertson's hand. "Good luck Tim and please come back alive." were the last words uttered by Alistar before he slipped back into his General Alistar persona and stormed out the door to verbally assault some unlucky officer who happened to catch his attention.
Burn's exit was less noticeable as he cloaked himself and said one final thing to Cmdr. Robertson before he left "Good luck Tim, please find out what happened to my people." and then he had disappeared to God knows where.
"I will sir" said Robertson to the empty air in front of him. Though he wouldn't admit it to anyone just yet he felt a sort of kinship with this particular Scion who seemed to be generally concerned with the welfare of his troops just like General Alistar and himself. Robertson took one final look at the document then finished his bourbon in one gulp while stuffing the pad in his belt and heading off to find the appropriate squadron members out the ops center through the door that led to the pressurized section of the base which included all of the barracks along with many of the supply rooms, hangars, medbays, and everything else that didn't need to be stuffed outside exposed to the corrosive conditions of Cores atmosphere.
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A few kilometers away somebody else besides the General Alistar was having trouble with subordinates. "Damnit dont manhandle that box its sensitive equipment!" shouted Lt. Anderson. It was in fact Wraith squadrons limited supply of alcohol which was needed to properly celebrate successful missions. Anderson ran up to the Scion hauler loading the cargo container in a rather sloppy manner into the pressurized supply hanger 20 where the Wraiths were to keep the vast majority of their supplies until they moved out to a more permanent location and started shouting to the pilot inside to sober up and stop manhandling their Goddamn equipment. Then the Scion did something totally unexpected and jumped out of its cockpit to confront the human who had the nerve to speak badly about its piloting ability. The Scion had its helmet on despite he comfortable atmosphere of the hanger and only its angry eyes could be seen through the visor. At its full height the Scion was about a foot taller than Anderson but in her case height was not an advantage the Scion had over her.
"Do you have something to say to me human?" sneered the upstart hauler pilot who was slightly surprised by the boldness of this human female to insult him so.
"Yea, maybe if you pulled you head out your ass you could pilot that rust bucket properly and stop breaking our goddamn equipment!" came the irate reply of Wraith squadrons XO.
"Are you implying that I cannot pilot my craft effectively?" asked the now visibly angry Scion who obviously had never met this particular woman before else he would of known to back off while he still could.
"Bet your blue ass I am!" said Anderson as she stared him straight the face making contact with the quivering eyes in the helmet.
"Why you- I shall teach you a lesson not soon forgotten human!" shouted the Scion as his anger finally took over and he charged the woman who jumped back several feet aided by Cores much lighter gravity while simultaneously delivering him a kick in the face for his troubles knocking off his helmet revealing his bald head and human like features for all the world to see. The Scion was phased momentarily as he checked his nose to see that there was some blood leaking out. This suddenly boiled his anger past the threshold and made this womans death an instant priority to him. In the blink of an eye he had drawn out his riffle and set it to empty the ammo pack in a single shot. More than enough to vaporize his target. In less than a second he had lined up his target and was preparing to fire when a shot from another riffle landed right at his feet breaking his concentration and causing him to look over to the other side of the hangar where a lone man with the rank of commander on his uniform was standing, his riffle smoking slightly from the recently fired round.
"Put the gun down before I put it down for you" shouted Robertson his rifle aimed and ready. Then the Scion did the stupidest thing he could have done and swung around to try and fire at him. Robertson sighed and fired off a second round right into the Scions arm taking it off completely at the shoulder and sending the gun clattering to the ground. The next sound was the thump of the Scions arm hitting the ground followed by the body then the loud scream as the pain finally caught up to him. Robertson walked over to the still screaming Scion to examine his handiwork. The wound was already beginning to close with bio-metal skin and the arm had melted into a pool of bio-metal. Within a week the arm will have regrown and the Scion would come away unharmed with a bitter lesson learned, dont screw with his Squadmates.
"Oh shut up" said Anderson as she delivered a kick to the Scions temple and knocked him out cold. She then spread a smile on her face which abruptly faded when she looked up into the face of her commander to see a look on his face that you might give to a disruptive child. "He started it!" said Anderson pointing at the now unresponsive from of the Scion who had attacked her.
"I dont want to know about it, just get a replacement pilot for that hauler then drum up the guys and have them meet me in launch bay 12 at 1800." said Robertson handing her a datapad with five names on it with hers included.
"Whats up CO have we got a mission this early in deployment? Hell we dont have enough ships and supplies to take on the damn UCLA pep squad much less anything were bound to meet in a field deployment!"
Robertson merely shrugged it off "Alistar says hes got it taken care of and we know we can trust him."
"Well then I guess I'll be off on my merry way by the way thanks for the assist that bastard may have gotten his first shot off before me."
"Dont mention it...Ever!" replied Robertson as he and Anderson went their separate ways.
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The names at the top of Anderson's list were Sergeant Jack "Paddy" O'rily and Sergeant Hank "Pyro" Patterson. Paddy was the squadrons supply and matinence officer and was easy enough to find. The red haired man was chatting merrily away over a pint with other supply officers in the bases bar trying to trade around stocks of food and supplies to aquire a better inventory of parts and supplies that he deemed necessary for operations. Anderson's entrance did not go unnoticed by him and he invited her over to an empty booth to discuss whatever the hell she was here to discuss.
"Whats up lass?" said the Irishman as he settled into his seat and started to take a long pull from his mug.
"Were being deployed on an assignment God knows where. Report to Hangar bay 12 at 1800" The effect was clearly visible as the Irishman accidentally spit out his brew and went on to complain.
"But lass, we donna have enough ships and sure as hell not enough supplies to-"
"To take on the UCLA pep squad much less anybody out in the field yes I know Paddy but these orders came from General Alistar himself."
"Oh, then I guess theres nothing else to say. Alistars a good man. Will that be all lass?" asked Paddy.
"Actually do you know where Pyro is?" asked Anderson.
"That I do lass hes the largish black fellow over there drinkin that stupid Scion under the table."
"Well have him come with you since his names on the list also and for Gods sake get some sober pills into him this time."
"That I will lass, that I will" said Paddy as Anderson got up and left to find the last two people on her list. He then glanced over to the black American who had just finished drinking his Scion opponent to the ground much to the delight of the human crowd and the unhappiness of the Scion bunch. "Hey Pyro get it over here man!" shouted Paddy finishing off his whisky and popping a pair of sober pills into his mouth and swallowed with his last bit of drink. The large sergeant made his way through the crowd to Paddy's table then sat down.
"Whats up Paddy?" asked Pyro who seemed to be surprisingly sober.
"Weve got a mission at 1800 in hanger 12 so get some sober pills into your system man, were movin out." Paddy told the him right out.
"A mission so soon into deployment? Hell we ain't got nothin proper to fight with!" said the sergeant as he swallowed four sober pills without assistance from liquor.
"I know, but General Alistar asked us out and says hes handled it." the mention of Alistar calmed Pyro down somewhat and allowed him to digest his pills.
"Well its getting close to 1800 by the way where the bloody hell is hangar 12?" Paddy asked Pyro.
"I've got a map, come on lets go find it" and with that the two friends/wingmen moved out of the bar to find hangar 12.
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The last stop for Lt. Anderson was in the barracks for their squadron. Inside she could see the newbies making their nests and setting away secret stashes of assorted items that would gain in value among the base personnel as supply drops became less and less frequent. Many of the newbies had their suits hung on the walls to let them air out the smell of semi-digested food that was now and forever pasted into the bio-metal suits. It was a standing joke in the ISDF that you always ate your favorite food before your first drop because thats what you would be smelling for the rest of your military career. Anderson had picked up that bit of advice from Cmdr. Robertson and her suit smelled like strawberries with whip cream. Unfortunately for these recruits they hadn't had the foresight to bring their own food and ate from the carriers cafeteria before they launched.
Anderson made a quick glance around the barracks and saw who she was looking for. Sergeant Hans "Steel" Guttenburg their communications expert chatting quietly with Amanda "Angel" Simmons possibly the toughest bitch in the ISDF and an expert in extravehicular battle she much preferred to fight outside the confines of a tank.
"Angel and Steel!" shouted Anderson over the dull roar of the barracks. "My office for five minutes!" then Anderson disappeared into her small but personal quarters merited to the XO of Wraith Squadron which included her bunk and a computer terminal desk and adjacent to the opening door that led to the main barracks room was her own bathroom. A few seconds later Angel and Steel entered her office/room and took a seat on her bunk to hear what the word was.
"Whats up Phoenix?" asked Angel using Anderson's call sign.
"Ja, what is the business at hand?" Steel added trying out his English.
"We have a mission at 1800 in hanger 12 get suited up and meet the rest of us there."
"We are not bringing the children?" asked Steel referring to the newbies and less senior members of Wraith Squadron.
"And who the hell authorized this little ditty. Christ, we just got here and cant be fully operational for at least a week." said Angel voicing her view outright as she always did.
"The order came from General Alistar so just shag it to hanger bay 12 by 1800 will you. I've got a few other things to handle so see you there." Anderson quickly departed to take care of some other duties leaving Steel and Angel with puzzled looks upon their faces.
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They were, Robertson divided, some of the best vehicles to come out of the second fleet which had taken murderous losses after that fool General Braddock, former General Braddock Robertson corrected himself, had led his fleet through that wormhole in pursuit of a Scion dropship leading him stranded half-way across the fucking galaxy to fend for themselves on some Godforsaken rocks called Mire, Bane, and Rend. Robertson checked his watch and saw that it was ten minutes to 1800 which ment that the guys should be arriving right about now. No sooner had he completed the thought when Paddy and Pyro came through the door in full battle dress. Their eyes first landed upon the Thunderbolts lined up in rows of three since Robertson was hiding in the shadows of a stack of supply crates and they wandered over to inspect the ships conditions.
"Ah Hell, dont tell me we be drivin these rinky dink Thunderbolts!" complained Pyro who typically flew the heavy assault ships like the Sentinels or Atilla Walkers.
"It appears so Pyro my lad, but it aint so bad, look some thoughtful person outfitted them with some chainguns instead o those damn spitball miniguns." Paddy said to Pyro trying to make the best out of an uncomfortable situation.
"Yea, and the fire and forget missiles are still there." Pyros attention suddenly fell upon the cockpit canopy. "Hey these are polysteel canopies!"
"So" asked Paddy.
"So that means nobody can snipe your ass unless they put the gun right on the window." replied Pyro thinking that it might not be so bad to fly these ships after all. Their technical analysis was interrupted by the arrival of Steel and Angel likewise dressed in their full battle suits.
"What is this about Polysteel canopies?" inquired Steel as he inspected one of the vehicles. " Ach, this is truly a God-send these radar systems are top of the line." Steel commented as he ran his hand over the length of the ship.
"Damn this cockpit is small." commented Angel as she hefted her huge tank-killer pulse riffle and stuffed it into the seat so she could grab it on her way out should she need to eject. The last person to arrive was Phoenix still slipping her jetpack around her shoulders as she called out.
"Wraith Squadron fall in!" in response every person in the hangar lined up horizontally across shoulder to shoulder each standing with their wingmate in front of a large viewscreen. Phoenix walked over and stood in front of the screen then stood still at attention.
"Wheres Slayer?" asked Pyro referring to Cmdr. Robertson using the name he had been given after single handily killing three Maulers while defending Phoenix who was stuck with a damaged ship.
"Check your six." replied a voice that had come from no less than two feet behind Pyro scaring the shit out of him.
"Crap CO, take pity on a poor mans heart!" said Pyro after he landed from being scared ten feet in the air."
Slayer ignored the comment and proceeded over to the view screen slipping his Intel disk inside the slot and activating the screen. Only when he was ready to begin the briefing did he announce "At ease Wraiths!". Steel was the first to speak up.
"What is the word from above Herr Commander?" asked the German in his best English.
"Yea whats all the hullabaloo CO, we wont be operational till the end of the week and not a peak performance till the end of the month." inquired Paddy.
"The word from above Steel is that were moving out to do a little recon here along the equator." said Slayer bringing up the correct map position. "and the hullabaloo Paddy is that many Scion and ISDF units have been disappearing and the scouting parties sent after them have met much with the same fate. Those that returned report finding nothing not even scrap from a fight. General Alistar seems to think these units were stolen as does the Padisha of the Scions but by whom we dont have a clue." Slayer made an intentional pause in his report to hear the inevitable question which was voiced by Angel.
"But sir if the scouting parties cant find anything why are we being sent out?"
"Were not going to review travel routes like the other scouts did, instead were heading to Centurion-4." stated Slayer, "From what I've been told its an experimental firebase that went off the air a few hour ago. The Brass seems to think we might find some answers there"
"What kind of an experimental base?" asked Pyro.
"The kind that we need to investigate." answered Slayer quickly moving on to finish his briefing before 1800. "Well be inserting via the Equinox here about 1000 meters from our objective. Once we finish our recon the Equinox will land here for dustoff. Any questions?" asked Slayer. Phoenix raised her hand and Slayer nodded for her to go ahead.
"How do we distinguish friend from foe?"
"Alistar is putting all Core installations on alert level three meaning that all troop movement will be done by air. So if it moves its a target." answered Slayer
"Just the way I like it!" proclaimed Pyro drawing a few chuckles here and there.
"Thats all Wraiths, secure you ships and be ready to move in ten minutes!"
"Yes sir!" was the unanimous rely from the troops.
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This seems likie a nice place to leave off for the time bieng. All of the main characters have been introduced and the problem at hand is now known. Please give this story some honest reviews so I can publish pt. 2 which is already written and awaiting a final draft based upon your reviews.
by Admiral Kelley
Please observe that I dont own anything that originated from the Activision game Battlezone II and anything else is completely mine and is subject to my own unique brand of copyright law. Those who try to rip off my story or steal any of my ideas without at least mentioning where you got them in your story monologue will result in me sending a crack team of highly paid lawyers addicted to human flesh to come rip you apart piece by piece. Now with the legal crap out of the way I encourage you to sitback, relax, and enjoy reading Battlezone II: Lost legacy pt1 by Admiral Kelley. You are also encouraged to give this story honest reviews so I can polish pt.2 up a bit unless you have something really negative to say in which case I encourage you to lie creatively.
Please note that this story takes place after the first war with the Scions and is a continuation of the Scion side storyline. If you dont know what I'm talking about then ask somebody who does.
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"Beginning landing approach", was all the warning the troops aboard the Equinox had before the massive duel engines flared to life with a thundering roar which was audible even through the ships reinforced hull and the troops battle suits. It never failed to make Cmdr. Tim Robertson grin when the green troops barfed in their helmets from the sudden jolts of atmospheric entry and the added torture the inner ear received from the vibrations caused by the retro boosters. That effect was lost however on the more senior members of Wraith squadron since they had done it many times before enough so that they somehow adapted to the abusive nature of insertions. In fact this was one of the smoothest entries Robertson had ever experienced due to the almost non existent atmosphere of Core the Scions newly created homeworld. Then came a second corous of lunch reviews as the ship made what seemed like a hard starport turn to the south where the ISDF's only spaceport was currently located where on Earth the South Pole would be.
Robertson stole a quick glance outside the viewpoint one of the few luxuries that a commander got but a welcome one at that. It was a completely alien landscape that varied dramatically from Earth and appeared to have been constructed by a mad architect. Pillars of light erupted from the ground spewing forth radiant blue light and odd looking towers which seemed to have no purpose were strewn about everywhere as far as the eye could see and then some. In a sense the planet seemed to be organic which was technically true according to many scientific studies that had concluded that Core was made almost entirely out of bio-metal which ment that it possibly was a living breathing organism and that it had a soul. None of this mattered to Cmdr. Robertson as he looked away from his viewport and continued to take some perverse amusement from the suffering of the newbies which was slackening somewhat as the huge dropship slowed its decent a few hundred meters over the spaceport and made for the only pad big enough to accommodate it at the moment.
Below, the spaceport designated Cloud-9 by some smartass in the Ops center was in a flurry of activity as Scion and ISDF haulers alike scurried about securing ships and cargo. The ships massive engines flared one last time to make the landing as smooth as possible not so much for the human cargoes comfort but ensure that the assorted tanks and supplies were not damaged from the shock. After a few moments there came the familiar jolting thump as the landing gear announced that they had found solid ground. It took a few seconds for the shock absorbers to quit bouncing the ship around but before long they were completely still and ready to disembark for what was supposed to be a quiet tour of duty. But before the straps came off the crash seats a red light blinked above the main hatch indicating that they had one minute to secure their life-support gear to themselves before the inside was flooded with the planets atmosphere.
Though as a precaution Robertson had ordered his squadron to already have their gear ready to go before they launched from the carrier for safety reasons meaning that the newbies would have to wait until they finished their duties for the day and got inside the pressurized barracks before they could clean off lunch from the inside of their suits. After exactly one minute came the hissing sound of the environmental pumps replacing the human friendly atmosphere with the lethal gasses found outside the walls of the ship so that the troops wouldn't have to experience the joys of explosive decompression which Robertson knew from experience was not fun. It took a total of five minutes to match up the inner troops compartment with the outside atmosphere before the red blinking light switched to a solid green which ment that it should be safe to open the hatch. Robertson stood up as the crashseat straps released him and walked with his XO Lt. Anderson up to the hatch as the rest of the troops attempted to adapt themselves to Cores strange lighter than Earth gravity.
As Robertson punched in the code required to open the door he hoped that the computer hadn't goofed on equalizing the pressure as it was known to do sometimes and deliver him and Anderson a rapid exit from the compartment and a few hundred meters out with his head stuck in the ground. The code checked out and then came the familiar grinding noise as the hatch rolled into the bulkhead and the ramp lowered at a rather steep angle to the ground where an single Scion was waiting. Robertson had just finished fighting a war with the Scions and was having a hard time adapting to the idea that the Scions were now friends. Robertson could see that Anderson felt the same way as she stiffened up slightly upon seeing the Scion at the foot of the ramp after all the last time either of them had seen a Scion was at gunpoint. The CO and XO of Wraith squadron took their time descending the ramp to greet the person at the other end.
Cmdr. Robertson was the first to reach the bottom and was greeted by the Scion over the squadron radio since the atmosphere made regular vocal communication damn near impossible. "Welcome to Core Commander, I trust you and your comrades had a pleasant flight?" said the Scion with what sounded to both Anderson and Robertson like a glint of sarcasm.
Scions can have a sense of humor? Thought Robertson, Perhaps this wont be such a boring assignment after all. Before either of the officers could muster up a greeting of their own the Scion thrust into each of their hands a datapad displaying an inventory of their transports supplies and where they could stash them and some helpful soul had loaded a map showing them what was where and more importantly the barracks they would be staying in since no two spaceports were the same a fact that officers all over the ISDF bitched about when supplies and vehicles went where they weren't supposed to. "Uhh, thanks" said Robertson before he looked up and noticed the Scion was already running like Hell over to another recently arrived transport to pass out datapads before the commanders and their squadrons scattered to make their nests in the assorted barracks and hangars.
"Polite little bastards aren't they" commented Lt. Anderson as she noted the Scions speedy departure. She had made only a cursory glance at her pad noting only where the troops needed to end up at the end of the day and where to stick their weapons.
"They certainly are XO" said Robertson as he gestured up the ramp "Why dont you make sure Paddy gets a copy of this list along with a map for everybody. I dont want another fracas like last time when we wandered into the wrong bar at the wrong time."
"Yessir and by the way sir might I add that you have an excellent right hook."
Robertson had to grin at that as he remembered the far from sober individuals who had decided that he and his squadron would be easy pickings. "Thankyou XO now get going I want that gear stashed in an hour, I'll be in Ops with the General if you need me. If all goes to plan I'll meet you at the barracks at around 2100."
"Aye sir" said Anderson as she sped back up the ramp and Cmdr. Robertson made a b-line for the nearest transport.
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The ride through the bases tunnels was thouroghy uneventful for Robertson though he was sitting across from three Scion officers who were apparently heading to the same place as he. Robertson had tried to get some sleep but because he had three Scions sitting across from him and his customized pulse rifle strapped in his backpack case his instincts would not allow him to fall asleep for fear of waking up to three grinning Scion faces with his own weapon at his head. So Robertson was relieved greatly when the Scions didn't follow him off the transport when it stopped in Ops and he got off and headed down the corridor to the double armored doors seemingly guarded by only two heavily armed soldiers. But Robertson knew better and spotted the small cracks in the tunnels walls that would pop out at a moments notice to reveal a rapid fire laser or heat seeking grenade or some other nasty surprise for anybody brave or stupid enough to try and force their way into Ops. Robertson saluted the guards and gave the proper voiced code which was "Howdy Partner" then moved between the guards and entered a series of digits into a small security console which beeped an affirmative and opened the double doors into the decontamination chamber.
Once there Robertson went over and put his hands to the wall spread eagle like and let the chamber soak him in chemicals to disinfect him for passage into the atmosphere of the base. Once that was done Robertson quickly closed his eyes as a flash of light dried him and the chamber completely off. Then a green light above the door ahead of him signaled that the process was over and a small panel opened revealing a number pad for him to input the last damn code for this whole process. With that done Robertson waited for a minute while the chamber pumped in the proper amount of oxygen and nitrogen to accommodate a human and then removed his helmet when the hissing stopped taking a long breath and coughing from the strong smell the chemicals left behind. Ahead of him the door opened revealing a very busy Ops center thankfully with only a few Scions present.
Robertson looked around the circular room and couldn't spot the general out at first. This didn't worry him since the general would make himself known to everyone in the room very soon. "What the Hell do you mean the south arrays are out again, you said they'd been fixed this morning damnit!" came a loud voice that could only be General Alistar himself from the center of Ops where a large screen table was located to give the general and his associates overview of a battle should there ever be one.
"B-B-ut sir" came the nervous reply of an aide who was obviously new to dealing with the general. "The repair teams report that the electronics are being effected by the atmosphere and they don't have the proper sealant to protect them."
"Well have you put in an order for the sealant?" came the irate reply of a general who probably hadn't slept for awhile.
"N-n-no s-sir." was the reply and Robertson almost felt sorry for the hapless aide as he stood there not wanting to interrupt the general in the middle of a good chewing out which he knew the general enjoyed a great deal.
"Then put the damn order in! I will not sit here and be shot in the ass from a surprise attack because some piece of silicone decided it doesn't like the weather! Now get the order out be-" said the general before he noticed Robertson standing across the room obviously waiting for him. "Bout time you showed up commander, get your ass in my office!" then General James T. Alistar looked back to the aide and spoke to him in a low dangerous tone saying "If I were you I'd make myself scarce until I got some good news." with those final words General Alistar stormed off into his office and only when the doors had closed did everyone in the Ops center breath a collective sigh of relief.
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"Good to see you again James!" said Robertson as soon as the door to General Alistar's office closed and nobody could hear their conversation.
"Likewise Tim." said Alistar as he sat down in his chair and reached into his desk to pull out a small bottle of Bourbon which he poured into three glasses. One of those went to his longtime friend and perhaps his finest Spec. Ops. Commander Tim Robertson.
Robertson accepted the glass and took a small sip and let the pleasant feeling of the drink wash over his body and allowed himself to feel a little more relaxed. He took another short sip and eyed the third cup which Alistar had poured.
"Expecting somebody James?" said Robertson motioning to the third glass sitting on the edge of his desk.
"Actually hes already here" said Alistar.
"What?" said Robertson feeling a little confused right then. Then almost as if on cue a shape detached itself from the shadows and moved toward the desk picking up the glass with unseen fingers. Robertson was startled out of his relaxed state and drew his riffle in a heartbeat instincts screaming that there was danger about. Robertson had his sights on the most likely spot where the creatures body mass would be and was about to pull the trigger when the shape suddenly became visible revealing itself o be a Scion with the markings of a Supreme Commander on his armored chest.
"Please calm yourself commander I did not mean to startle you." said the now plainly visible Scion. Robertson reluctantly put away his rifle and saw the smile on Alistars face which Robertson took to mean that this particular Scion posed no major threat at the moment. The Scion then lifted it to his face which was surprisingly human in appearance only without hair and took a long pull.
"Commander Robertson meet Padisha Burns of the Scion collective." said Alistar.
"Delighted I'm sure" said Robertson extending his hand to shake the leader of the Scions in a friendly greeting which Burns returned with short shake of his own not trying to display dominance or anything of the like. "Umm, No offense Burns but how the Hell-" started Robertson before he was cut off by the Padisha.
"How the Hell did I accomplish that little trick?" said Burns who now had a grin on his face along with a bourbon glass in hand making him look alarmingly human. "I manipulated the bio-metal in my body to match my skin to my outer surroundings, a useful trick which takes some time to master." the Scion replied. Deep down Robertson thanked whatever God made it so that trick was not a common trait among the Scion soldiers. That would have made an extravehicular battle a cast iron bitch to win against a Scion.
"I hate to interrupt this bonding experience" said Alistar
"But there is a reason I wanted you here instead of in that Hellhole of activity in Ops Center, Burns if you would please activate the map."
"Yes General" replied Burns as he pushed a button on the desk console activating a holographic map which displayed a large sector of Core somewhere around the equator judging by the sector coordinates. "For the past several weeks we have been losing contact with some of our Warrior platoons moving across this sector along with an entire regiment of Maulers just yesterday. Satellite recon from both our units and yours have failed to reveal the location of the missing vehicles or their pilots. We have sent manned patrols out for recon also but many of those have disappeared and the ones that returned reported finding nothing, not even scrap from a fight. But there are also other things that make this situation even stranger."
"Yes" replied Alistar. "ISDF units have also begun to disappear from here as well ranging from Sabre tank platoons to an entire division of Sentinels yesterday at almost the exact same time as the disappearance of the Scion Maulers.
"Damn" whistled Robertson as he reviewed the missing units list which contained enough fire power to make any commander sweat about engaging. "Whats this name here mean, Centurion-4? I think thats how its pronounced."
Burns and Alistar traded a look probably deciding who gave out the bad news. Then Alistar spoke, "Centurion-4 is one of our firebases situated along the equator. We lost contact a few hours ago and satellite recon reports that the buildings are in pristine condition but there is no activity in or around the base. It's one of our experimental bases where we're trying to combine Scion and ISDF technology together so far with good success." Burns looked up from the map and finally spoke.
"Do you have any thoughts on how these units might have been stolen?" asked the Padisha who was clearly not happy that some of his people had gone missing.
"Yea, its simple enough to get the Warriors and Sabres. All you need do is position a few snipers on the hills here and here." said Robertson pointing to the spots where the vehicles paths passed. "Its only a fifty meter shot and fairly easy for anybody with half a brain but as for the Maulers and Sentinels they have no cockpit canopy that a sniper round can penetrate, I dont see how the Hell anybody could of made off with them unless the pilots got out and left the hatches open, and I certainly hope we dont have this many people in our respective armies who are that stupid." said Robertson finishing his statement.
"Yes we were thinking along the same line" said Alistar "but we've sent scouting parities out after them and those who return report nothing which brings us to the reason why you're here. As of 1700 today I'm setting all installations on alert status three and no additional troop movement by land is to be made. Since none of our scouting parties have reveled anything useful to us we're betting that we could get some answers out of Centurion-4 so you and five of your squadron mates will be moving out in an hour to scout the base out and report back what you find." Alistar then sat down in his chair and handed Robertson a disk full of intelligence info and the mission profile which could be uploaded into his own personal data pad.
"But sir" objected Robertson, "my squadron has just landed and are without a full compliment of vehicles and support craft"
"I realized that Tim so I've arranged for you to "borrow" some of Gold Squadrons Thunderbolts from whats left of the second fleet for the job. You'll be inserted by the Equinox approximately one thousand meters from your objective. Once you've completed your recon or you run into any opposition you can head to the dust-off point here five-hundred meters south east of your objective. Any questions?"
asked Alistar before he and Burns stood up and shook Robertson's hand. "Good luck Tim and please come back alive." were the last words uttered by Alistar before he slipped back into his General Alistar persona and stormed out the door to verbally assault some unlucky officer who happened to catch his attention.
Burn's exit was less noticeable as he cloaked himself and said one final thing to Cmdr. Robertson before he left "Good luck Tim, please find out what happened to my people." and then he had disappeared to God knows where.
"I will sir" said Robertson to the empty air in front of him. Though he wouldn't admit it to anyone just yet he felt a sort of kinship with this particular Scion who seemed to be generally concerned with the welfare of his troops just like General Alistar and himself. Robertson took one final look at the document then finished his bourbon in one gulp while stuffing the pad in his belt and heading off to find the appropriate squadron members out the ops center through the door that led to the pressurized section of the base which included all of the barracks along with many of the supply rooms, hangars, medbays, and everything else that didn't need to be stuffed outside exposed to the corrosive conditions of Cores atmosphere.
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A few kilometers away somebody else besides the General Alistar was having trouble with subordinates. "Damnit dont manhandle that box its sensitive equipment!" shouted Lt. Anderson. It was in fact Wraith squadrons limited supply of alcohol which was needed to properly celebrate successful missions. Anderson ran up to the Scion hauler loading the cargo container in a rather sloppy manner into the pressurized supply hanger 20 where the Wraiths were to keep the vast majority of their supplies until they moved out to a more permanent location and started shouting to the pilot inside to sober up and stop manhandling their Goddamn equipment. Then the Scion did something totally unexpected and jumped out of its cockpit to confront the human who had the nerve to speak badly about its piloting ability. The Scion had its helmet on despite he comfortable atmosphere of the hanger and only its angry eyes could be seen through the visor. At its full height the Scion was about a foot taller than Anderson but in her case height was not an advantage the Scion had over her.
"Do you have something to say to me human?" sneered the upstart hauler pilot who was slightly surprised by the boldness of this human female to insult him so.
"Yea, maybe if you pulled you head out your ass you could pilot that rust bucket properly and stop breaking our goddamn equipment!" came the irate reply of Wraith squadrons XO.
"Are you implying that I cannot pilot my craft effectively?" asked the now visibly angry Scion who obviously had never met this particular woman before else he would of known to back off while he still could.
"Bet your blue ass I am!" said Anderson as she stared him straight the face making contact with the quivering eyes in the helmet.
"Why you- I shall teach you a lesson not soon forgotten human!" shouted the Scion as his anger finally took over and he charged the woman who jumped back several feet aided by Cores much lighter gravity while simultaneously delivering him a kick in the face for his troubles knocking off his helmet revealing his bald head and human like features for all the world to see. The Scion was phased momentarily as he checked his nose to see that there was some blood leaking out. This suddenly boiled his anger past the threshold and made this womans death an instant priority to him. In the blink of an eye he had drawn out his riffle and set it to empty the ammo pack in a single shot. More than enough to vaporize his target. In less than a second he had lined up his target and was preparing to fire when a shot from another riffle landed right at his feet breaking his concentration and causing him to look over to the other side of the hangar where a lone man with the rank of commander on his uniform was standing, his riffle smoking slightly from the recently fired round.
"Put the gun down before I put it down for you" shouted Robertson his rifle aimed and ready. Then the Scion did the stupidest thing he could have done and swung around to try and fire at him. Robertson sighed and fired off a second round right into the Scions arm taking it off completely at the shoulder and sending the gun clattering to the ground. The next sound was the thump of the Scions arm hitting the ground followed by the body then the loud scream as the pain finally caught up to him. Robertson walked over to the still screaming Scion to examine his handiwork. The wound was already beginning to close with bio-metal skin and the arm had melted into a pool of bio-metal. Within a week the arm will have regrown and the Scion would come away unharmed with a bitter lesson learned, dont screw with his Squadmates.
"Oh shut up" said Anderson as she delivered a kick to the Scions temple and knocked him out cold. She then spread a smile on her face which abruptly faded when she looked up into the face of her commander to see a look on his face that you might give to a disruptive child. "He started it!" said Anderson pointing at the now unresponsive from of the Scion who had attacked her.
"I dont want to know about it, just get a replacement pilot for that hauler then drum up the guys and have them meet me in launch bay 12 at 1800." said Robertson handing her a datapad with five names on it with hers included.
"Whats up CO have we got a mission this early in deployment? Hell we dont have enough ships and supplies to take on the damn UCLA pep squad much less anything were bound to meet in a field deployment!"
Robertson merely shrugged it off "Alistar says hes got it taken care of and we know we can trust him."
"Well then I guess I'll be off on my merry way by the way thanks for the assist that bastard may have gotten his first shot off before me."
"Dont mention it...Ever!" replied Robertson as he and Anderson went their separate ways.
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The names at the top of Anderson's list were Sergeant Jack "Paddy" O'rily and Sergeant Hank "Pyro" Patterson. Paddy was the squadrons supply and matinence officer and was easy enough to find. The red haired man was chatting merrily away over a pint with other supply officers in the bases bar trying to trade around stocks of food and supplies to aquire a better inventory of parts and supplies that he deemed necessary for operations. Anderson's entrance did not go unnoticed by him and he invited her over to an empty booth to discuss whatever the hell she was here to discuss.
"Whats up lass?" said the Irishman as he settled into his seat and started to take a long pull from his mug.
"Were being deployed on an assignment God knows where. Report to Hangar bay 12 at 1800" The effect was clearly visible as the Irishman accidentally spit out his brew and went on to complain.
"But lass, we donna have enough ships and sure as hell not enough supplies to-"
"To take on the UCLA pep squad much less anybody out in the field yes I know Paddy but these orders came from General Alistar himself."
"Oh, then I guess theres nothing else to say. Alistars a good man. Will that be all lass?" asked Paddy.
"Actually do you know where Pyro is?" asked Anderson.
"That I do lass hes the largish black fellow over there drinkin that stupid Scion under the table."
"Well have him come with you since his names on the list also and for Gods sake get some sober pills into him this time."
"That I will lass, that I will" said Paddy as Anderson got up and left to find the last two people on her list. He then glanced over to the black American who had just finished drinking his Scion opponent to the ground much to the delight of the human crowd and the unhappiness of the Scion bunch. "Hey Pyro get it over here man!" shouted Paddy finishing off his whisky and popping a pair of sober pills into his mouth and swallowed with his last bit of drink. The large sergeant made his way through the crowd to Paddy's table then sat down.
"Whats up Paddy?" asked Pyro who seemed to be surprisingly sober.
"Weve got a mission at 1800 in hanger 12 so get some sober pills into your system man, were movin out." Paddy told the him right out.
"A mission so soon into deployment? Hell we ain't got nothin proper to fight with!" said the sergeant as he swallowed four sober pills without assistance from liquor.
"I know, but General Alistar asked us out and says hes handled it." the mention of Alistar calmed Pyro down somewhat and allowed him to digest his pills.
"Well its getting close to 1800 by the way where the bloody hell is hangar 12?" Paddy asked Pyro.
"I've got a map, come on lets go find it" and with that the two friends/wingmen moved out of the bar to find hangar 12.
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The last stop for Lt. Anderson was in the barracks for their squadron. Inside she could see the newbies making their nests and setting away secret stashes of assorted items that would gain in value among the base personnel as supply drops became less and less frequent. Many of the newbies had their suits hung on the walls to let them air out the smell of semi-digested food that was now and forever pasted into the bio-metal suits. It was a standing joke in the ISDF that you always ate your favorite food before your first drop because thats what you would be smelling for the rest of your military career. Anderson had picked up that bit of advice from Cmdr. Robertson and her suit smelled like strawberries with whip cream. Unfortunately for these recruits they hadn't had the foresight to bring their own food and ate from the carriers cafeteria before they launched.
Anderson made a quick glance around the barracks and saw who she was looking for. Sergeant Hans "Steel" Guttenburg their communications expert chatting quietly with Amanda "Angel" Simmons possibly the toughest bitch in the ISDF and an expert in extravehicular battle she much preferred to fight outside the confines of a tank.
"Angel and Steel!" shouted Anderson over the dull roar of the barracks. "My office for five minutes!" then Anderson disappeared into her small but personal quarters merited to the XO of Wraith Squadron which included her bunk and a computer terminal desk and adjacent to the opening door that led to the main barracks room was her own bathroom. A few seconds later Angel and Steel entered her office/room and took a seat on her bunk to hear what the word was.
"Whats up Phoenix?" asked Angel using Anderson's call sign.
"Ja, what is the business at hand?" Steel added trying out his English.
"We have a mission at 1800 in hanger 12 get suited up and meet the rest of us there."
"We are not bringing the children?" asked Steel referring to the newbies and less senior members of Wraith Squadron.
"And who the hell authorized this little ditty. Christ, we just got here and cant be fully operational for at least a week." said Angel voicing her view outright as she always did.
"The order came from General Alistar so just shag it to hanger bay 12 by 1800 will you. I've got a few other things to handle so see you there." Anderson quickly departed to take care of some other duties leaving Steel and Angel with puzzled looks upon their faces.
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They were, Robertson divided, some of the best vehicles to come out of the second fleet which had taken murderous losses after that fool General Braddock, former General Braddock Robertson corrected himself, had led his fleet through that wormhole in pursuit of a Scion dropship leading him stranded half-way across the fucking galaxy to fend for themselves on some Godforsaken rocks called Mire, Bane, and Rend. Robertson checked his watch and saw that it was ten minutes to 1800 which ment that the guys should be arriving right about now. No sooner had he completed the thought when Paddy and Pyro came through the door in full battle dress. Their eyes first landed upon the Thunderbolts lined up in rows of three since Robertson was hiding in the shadows of a stack of supply crates and they wandered over to inspect the ships conditions.
"Ah Hell, dont tell me we be drivin these rinky dink Thunderbolts!" complained Pyro who typically flew the heavy assault ships like the Sentinels or Atilla Walkers.
"It appears so Pyro my lad, but it aint so bad, look some thoughtful person outfitted them with some chainguns instead o those damn spitball miniguns." Paddy said to Pyro trying to make the best out of an uncomfortable situation.
"Yea, and the fire and forget missiles are still there." Pyros attention suddenly fell upon the cockpit canopy. "Hey these are polysteel canopies!"
"So" asked Paddy.
"So that means nobody can snipe your ass unless they put the gun right on the window." replied Pyro thinking that it might not be so bad to fly these ships after all. Their technical analysis was interrupted by the arrival of Steel and Angel likewise dressed in their full battle suits.
"What is this about Polysteel canopies?" inquired Steel as he inspected one of the vehicles. " Ach, this is truly a God-send these radar systems are top of the line." Steel commented as he ran his hand over the length of the ship.
"Damn this cockpit is small." commented Angel as she hefted her huge tank-killer pulse riffle and stuffed it into the seat so she could grab it on her way out should she need to eject. The last person to arrive was Phoenix still slipping her jetpack around her shoulders as she called out.
"Wraith Squadron fall in!" in response every person in the hangar lined up horizontally across shoulder to shoulder each standing with their wingmate in front of a large viewscreen. Phoenix walked over and stood in front of the screen then stood still at attention.
"Wheres Slayer?" asked Pyro referring to Cmdr. Robertson using the name he had been given after single handily killing three Maulers while defending Phoenix who was stuck with a damaged ship.
"Check your six." replied a voice that had come from no less than two feet behind Pyro scaring the shit out of him.
"Crap CO, take pity on a poor mans heart!" said Pyro after he landed from being scared ten feet in the air."
Slayer ignored the comment and proceeded over to the view screen slipping his Intel disk inside the slot and activating the screen. Only when he was ready to begin the briefing did he announce "At ease Wraiths!". Steel was the first to speak up.
"What is the word from above Herr Commander?" asked the German in his best English.
"Yea whats all the hullabaloo CO, we wont be operational till the end of the week and not a peak performance till the end of the month." inquired Paddy.
"The word from above Steel is that were moving out to do a little recon here along the equator." said Slayer bringing up the correct map position. "and the hullabaloo Paddy is that many Scion and ISDF units have been disappearing and the scouting parties sent after them have met much with the same fate. Those that returned report finding nothing not even scrap from a fight. General Alistar seems to think these units were stolen as does the Padisha of the Scions but by whom we dont have a clue." Slayer made an intentional pause in his report to hear the inevitable question which was voiced by Angel.
"But sir if the scouting parties cant find anything why are we being sent out?"
"Were not going to review travel routes like the other scouts did, instead were heading to Centurion-4." stated Slayer, "From what I've been told its an experimental firebase that went off the air a few hour ago. The Brass seems to think we might find some answers there"
"What kind of an experimental base?" asked Pyro.
"The kind that we need to investigate." answered Slayer quickly moving on to finish his briefing before 1800. "Well be inserting via the Equinox here about 1000 meters from our objective. Once we finish our recon the Equinox will land here for dustoff. Any questions?" asked Slayer. Phoenix raised her hand and Slayer nodded for her to go ahead.
"How do we distinguish friend from foe?"
"Alistar is putting all Core installations on alert level three meaning that all troop movement will be done by air. So if it moves its a target." answered Slayer
"Just the way I like it!" proclaimed Pyro drawing a few chuckles here and there.
"Thats all Wraiths, secure you ships and be ready to move in ten minutes!"
"Yes sir!" was the unanimous rely from the troops.
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This seems likie a nice place to leave off for the time bieng. All of the main characters have been introduced and the problem at hand is now known. Please give this story some honest reviews so I can publish pt. 2 which is already written and awaiting a final draft based upon your reviews.