Chapter 1: Movement to Contact
17 March UC 0079
Southwest Asia
Near Kandahar Air Base
0235 Local
Lieutenant Kimber Durson sighed as she stared down at the bright strip of light across the empty few miles of desert that outlined the runway at Kandahar. The dull roar of jet engines echoing through the cold desert night air announced another Medea transport plane carrying retreating Federation troops out of the reach of the freshly deployed First Terrestrial Mobile Division. The young officer could only hope that the rapidly growing Zeon air forces would be able to intercept it, but it was only headed deeper in to territory the Federation still controlled so, unfortunately, that wasn't something she considered very likely.
The young woman finally pushed herself up off the ground, hands on her hips as she stared out at the black strip of concrete walls surrounding the airfield, her mind already working on how best to breach them. She'd been in command of her own team for less than two weeks and so far all she'd been able to do was order it to move from place to place, this was going to be her chance to finally get back into the war, and one she felt more than ready for. Of course, she never felt like she was moving fast enough, who knew what that plane had been carrying, and what she could have prevented its cargo from doing in the future if only she could have stopped it here.
Kimber was everything the academy had hoped to put out in a fresh officer. She was young at only 23, the fittest she'd ever been, confident in her abilities, eager for her new responsibilities, and it certainly hadn't hurt her career outlook that she was attractive with piercing blue eyes that never seemed to stop studying her environment and raven black hair she tried to keep tucked up under her patrol cap. She wasn't always successful at it, and the wind that kept tugging at her cap kept letting her bangs fall from the cap and pulling her hair free to blow into her face.
"Lieutenant," the hushed voice hissed up the small rise at her, "Radio!" Sergeant Solomon Calwell had his arms crossed, his hands shoved up into his armpits, the collar on his olive uniform field coat turned up at the wind. His outlook on the young officer he'd been sent to fetch was a bit different, she was a bit too young, easily a decade younger than him, and too pretty a face to be anything more than someone's pet project. Someone had plucked up a collection of the remnants of units that had seen a bit too much combat, replacements who had nowhere to go, and new recruits and given them all to a girl fresh from the academy. She'd been sent down here to get some experience, under his protection of course, and then she'd be plucked back up and shuttled around to rallies to drive up the recruitment numbers. It was babysitting, pure and simple, and he did not like babysitting.
Lieutenant Durson turned on her heel and threaded her way down the small hill with a surprising amount of grace, tucking a stray bit of windblown black hair back under her cap as she passed by the older man. "Did they say what they wanted?" she asked, tossing another glance over her shoulder as the Medea climbed out to the North, disappearing as it left the glow of the airfield and slid into the night sky.
A small shake of the head was all the answer Sergeant Calwell offered as he fell in step behind her, headed to the cluster of three mobile suits and the squad's transport truck. The Lieutenant's Zaku was easy to pick out, the newer MS-06F with the blade antenna on the head set her apart from his own older MS-05 and Corporal Wesley Tanner's MS-06C. It figured she'd not only managed to get the newest machine available, but had dragged it down from space too. He watched as the young woman hopped up the Zaku II's arm and easily pulled herself up, her legs disappearing up into the cockpit. The one thing he had to begrudgingly give her was she was certainly spry.
Lieutenant Durson braced her feet against the frame hatch and snatched the radio headset from where it was hanging on the control stick for the Zaku before she took a moment to settle the earpiece against her ear and moved the microphone to brush against her lips. There was only one possibility for who would have been on the radio for her, all the smaller units were supposed to be maintaining silence so it had to be the battalion command center. Her gloved thumb pressed down the transmit button and she gave the radio a second, waiting for the tell-tale hiss of static before she started her transmission. "Atlas 6 this is Rapier 23," her thumb slid from the button, waiting for the response.
"23, standby for 6 actual," came the response.
Kimber froze at the words, 6 Actual was Colonel Alexander Lukasik, the battalion commander himself rather than someone merely passing on his words. There was no reason for him to call her unit personally unless something very large and unanticipated was taking place or he was about to order the attack she'd spent days waiting and maneuvering into position for. Either way, she could feel her stomach flip with excitement, hoping it meant no more sitting around and waiting.
The familiar hiss and click of the radio announced the start of the colonel's transmission, as if the rough voice on the other end would have been something she could have mistaken. "23, this is 6 Actual, all Cossack elements will be starting their assault on Objective Ark in one hour, all Rapier elements will begin their attack ten minutes prior, hit hard and fast, draw their attention off Cossack, 6 Actual out."
"Rapier 23, understood," she answered, probably unnecessarily since the Colonel likely had more important things to do than wait for her to answer. Lieutenant Durson dropped the headset and glanced around her Zaku's cockpit for a moment to collect her thoughts. There wasn't a need for much more planning, the attack on Kandahar had been a major objective since before she'd landed and everyone had known their expected roles for weeks.
Four years ago the whole short conversation, such as it was, would have been nothing but jibberish to her, now it all made sense in a way she would have never imagined. Cossack was the call sign for the Magella attack tanks and their supporting infantry that were a few miles behind her unit's position, and Objective Ark was the only thing worth attacking for miles, the airfield. Her job, as Rapier, was going to be simple, hitting the Federation's lines a few minutes early and sowing enough confusion and destruction that the tanks and infantry could push through with relative ease and take the base before anything else of value could be flown out of the area. Staging the attack so early in the morning made sense, the defenders were on the local time and most of the Zeon forces had come down from space barely two weeks ago. Most of the Zeon troops were still used to the time on Side 3 or the fleet, and to them it was about midday. She could hardly keep the smile off her face as she dug in the Zaku's seat pouch for her map.
0255 Local
"It's suicide is what it is," Sergeant Calwell grumbled, looking at the map spread across a box of spare parts and still not happy with the plan command had cooked up, "It's at least eight kilometers of empty desert between us and that base once we clear the ridge and that's five miles where they can shoot at us the whole way." If this was the best they could come up with after weeks of preparation time it was going to be a very unpleasant war, putting their best weapons and highly trained pilots out there to just be shot at while they waited for someone else to get into position and press home the attack. It was asinine in his opinion, a potential waste of valuable suits and trained pilots.
Lieutenant Durson did her best to hide her annoyance as she looked up, Sergeant Calwell had the same scowl she usually saw on his tanned features, his thinning brown hair cropped close to the scalp, dark brown eyes studying the map as if he'd find some better option she and the Colonel had missed. The plan had existed for weeks and it was unlikely the Sergeant was going to find something everyone else had missed in the few minutes it took to explain the unit's role.
She took a moment to stand back up straight, trying to draw up another inch or two, and still coming nowhere close to the 6 foot plus NCO. "I know," she offered back, trying to keep her voice even and polite, careful to show none of the anger she could feel in the pit of her stomach, "Still, they can't shoot at us for all of that range, only the last mile or so, and we're far more survivable than the Magellas will be… we can do it easy. Besides, we don't have time to discuss it, we have…" she trailed off, checking her watch, "25 minutes to be in position, so get to your suits."
Kimber took a moment to fold the map back up and tuck it under her arm, watching as Sergeant Calwell gave a slight shrug and turned to wander back to his old Zaku I, glancing over the suit for a moment before he worked his way into the cockpit. Corporal Tanner didn't have the same hesitation, the younger 19 year old soldier seemed excited, twisting his leather gloves between his hands as he walked around the newer C model Zaku II, carefully inspecting the machine's joints and armor. He finally seemed satisfied and pulled off his fatigue cap, taking a moment to straighten out slicked back blonde hair before climbing into the cockpit.
With both her pilots in their suits she gave one last look at the small huddle of mechanics and drivers around the back of her unit's cargo truck before she swung herself up and into her Zaku's cockpit. The truck and her freshly assigned support personnel, most of whom she hadn't even learned the names of yet, would be staying behind, the only thing they would accomplish if they came along for the attack would be distracting Federation fire for a few seconds. To Kimber it almost felt like leaving the mechanics behind was the one decision no one had fought her on all day.
Practiced dances of her fingers over the controls brought the Zaku to life with each flick of a switch and button press, she'd spent so long and so many training scenarios in the suit that it was all second nature now. The cockpit's armored door finally thumped closed, sealing her off from the world for a moment as the main view screen slid down and clicked on, displaying only the Zaku's computer read outs of the built in tests running through every one of the mobile suit's systems.
The moment still felt private every time, sealed off from the rest of the unit, the communications systems weren't broadcasting yet, and her image wouldn't be sent to the rest of the unit, it was alone as she could get. Kimber sat back for a moment and slid her patrol cap from her head and stuffed it into her jacket pocket, her shoulder length hair fell free until she pulled it back and tied it into a loose ponytail, only her bangs left free to brush against her forehead as she settled the communication's headset over her ears, the microphone back over her lips. Finally, when the Zaku's cockpit heater kicked on and started to warm up the small compartment she tugged the field jacket off and stuffed it beside the seat. Now it was comfortable, the artificial environment carefully controlled, the grey painted steel walls surrounding her and the world finally clicking back on through the display screens as the Zaku's computer finally brought it to life.
She didn't try to stand the Zaku up yet, leaving it crouched on the ground, one hand on the suit's knee, the other clutching the grip of the 120mm machine gun, only the head and mono-eye scanning the unit's position. Finally satisfied her Zaku was combat ready she triggered the radio, "Rapier 24 and 25, this is 23, status?"
The screen beeped and she could see the small image of Sergeant Calwell in the Zaku I's cockpit, somehow more cramped looking than the newer Zaku II's. She didn't know how the man could fit, at five foot eight she was considered to be on the tall side for a woman and Kimber was fairly certain she was going to bump her head on the cockpit roof from time to time, there was no way that Calwell could be comfortable in the smaller cockpit. He still had his patrol cap on, the headset on over it, the brim pulled low over his eyes, his uniform sleeves rolled up, fingers flicking the last few switches to bring his suit to life. "24, ready," he answered, his voice static filled and metallic over the radio, the Zaku I pushing itself off the ground across from her.
The soft beep announced Corporal Tanner's image replacing Sergeant Calwell, the younger man's face turned to the checklist he had balanced on his knee, his microphone transmitting the sound of his Zaku's heat on full, his field jacket still on and zipped up to his throat. It was a feeling Lieutenant Durson could sympathize with, one that most of the colonists on earth for the first time understood. Sure, the colonies had weather, and it got cold during their designated winter period, but nothing like this. Weather was all carefully controlled by the colony administration and it never got as bad as the Earth felt to a lot of them, without anyone to moderate its extremes the planet could feel downright oppressive to the unprepared. "25, I'll be good to go in a few more seconds," Tanner answered, his hands, back in his gloves, dropped to the control sticks.
Kimber didn't wait for him to finish, the image clicking off as she turned her attention from the communications to her own Zaku, pulling back on the control sticks to pull the suit back. She could feel the Zaku protest, the whine and groan of the motors as the suit struggled against gravity, finally winning as it rose up, and its feet thumped against the ground hard enough to shake the cargo truck that suddenly appeared much smaller as the mobile suit rose from the crouch it had been parked in and stood upright. Kimber twisted the machine gun in front of the suit's mono-eye, carefully inspecting her main weapon as she flicked the master arm switch on and the gun cycled itself once before the first round dropped from the drum into the breach.
Satisfied that her mobile suit was ready to take her into battle Kimber let the automated program take over and drop the gun down to the Zaku's waist, the other hand grabbing the support grip, ready but out of the way for the time being. The young officer glanced at the mobile suits around her one last time, making sure her unit was as ready as they claimed before she triggered the radio again, "Alright, let's go, try to keep some sort of terrain between us and them as long as possible." She didn't wait for the responses as the mixed collection of the 144th Tactical Mobile Suit Squad made their way around the ridgeline and into the open desert.
0313 Local
The wind whipped fine sand into the faces of the Federation troops huddled against the edge of the foxhole. At a little past three in the morning the young soldiers were having a harder time mustering up the energy to stay awake than anything, and their weary eyes were more concerned with watching seconds tick away on their watches than they were with scanning the empty desert between them and the mountains that bordered the airbase to the East. Even the NCOs had given up for the most part, only moving at the required patrol times to rouse sleeping soldiers any more.
Most of them had been assigned to the base since before hostilities had broken out, and while they'd heard stories from the troops retreating through the area none of them really knew what to expect from the Zeon soldiers that were supposed to be approaching the area, and more importantly none of them had ever seen the new mobile suits yet. The first few days they'd all been on edge, every eye had strained out into the desert, and every shifting shadow had been a Zaku. Now, that edge had worn off, and most of the troops grumbled about being evacuated before they had a chance to see anything.
Sergeant Marcus Peters took his time working his way through the trench line, his rifle cradled in his arms, taking a moment to enjoy being able to stretch out his back. The man stifled a yawn, pressing a palm over his mouth to keep the wind-blown dust from choking him. He pulled his helmet back down as he ducked into the dugout for one of his platoon's guided missiles. Two of the troopers were leaned against the wall of the emplacement, blankets tugged tight around the shoulders as they stared at the dirt floor, they were almost worthless as far as defenders at the moment, but at least they weren't asleep, which at the moment was good enough for the young sergeant. He'd tired of yelling at soldiers about a week ago, it didn't work to motivate them and it just made him feel like an asshole. His attention turned to the third soldier who was leaning up by the launcher, his eyes staring out over the desert, swaying along hypnotically with a pale light in the distance.
"What have you got?" Peters broke the silence, falling on the opposite side of the young soldier, the rustle of the man looking away was slow, the young private's fingers rubbing at wind reddened eyes.
"I dunno, Sarge," he answered, shaking his head a bit, "It's just… sorta there. Whatever it is, it showed up a few minutes ago. I think it's been getting closer but I can't tell what it is."
Peters nodded, whatever it was, he couldn't tell from here either. The sergeant sighed as he bent down and pulled the cover off the anti-tank missile launcher's sights. It would waste some of the battery to use the night sights, but a few seconds to see if it was some shepherd taking his livestock out would be worth it. The two soldiers on the floor of the fighting position gave soft grunts of effort and annoyance as they shifted out of the way as he dropped down behind the sights on the tripod mounted missile launcher and flicked the switch on the sight. With a soft click and a sudden flash of light he had blink to adjust to the weapon sight came to life and Peters found himself staring at the slowly approaching Zaku, the gun seemingly leveled at him and the softly glowing mono-eye seemed to be staring right back at him. The sergeant jerked back from weapon sight and stared out into the desert, the darkness blacker after the night sight had ruined his eyes adjustment to the darkness, but he could still the swaying eye stomping towards him. "Get ready for contact," Peters whispered the two soldiers staring up at him dumbly from the floor, the man next to him squinting off into the darkness, trying to see whatever the sergeant had seen. The young sergeant slid his rifle into his hand, charging the bolt wordlessly before he looked back down at the two men staring up at him. "I said get the fuck up and prepare for contact! Someone get a radio to the command center," his voice was louder, the shout loud enough that soldiers from other parts of the trench popped up to look over at him, and the rustle of other weapons being readied echoed from the line.
"Damn, yeah, they saw us," Lieutenant Durson mumbled to herself before she reached for the radio transmit button as she saw more heads popping up over the trenches that lined the outside base of the high concrete walls. "Tanner, they made you, everyone get ready," she flipped the switch for her radio transmission channel, bringing her over to the battalion command network, "Atlas, this is Rapier 23, our hand's been tipped, engaging."
The young woman didn't wait for a response, everyone knew they were going to have to engage sooner or later, it was more a question of when. A quick glance to her left saw Calwell's Zaku raising his bazooka onto its shoulder, and a quick glance to her right saw Tanner's Zaku II picking up the pace, his machine gun leveled at the wall, moving from the slow walk it'd been at before to a trot, the muzzle swaying as the computer tried to keep the muzzle aimed at the same point. She pushed her own unit into a quick jog, keeping her positioned in the middle of the two other pilots, her gun leveled at the missile position that seemed to have raised the alarm. "Hold your fire for now, we're still too far away to be accurate out here, just concentrate on closing the distance and not getting hit," Kimber let her hands clutch the controls a bit tighter as she watched the range start to count down.
"Copy, Lieutenant," Calwell answered, his voice sharp, an unspoken I already knew that in the curt response, she was certain. Kimber sighed and let it slide, she had more important considerations at the moment.
"Rapier 25 acknowledged, when are we firing?" Tanner's voice was far more excited, the Corporal's mobile suit shifting its gun back and forth down the trench line as he followed Kimber's Zaku II in a rush towards the trenchline.
It was easy for her to forget he had managed to miss all of the combat so far, as if her two missions in support of the battle at Loum had made her some sort of expert. Range was something it was easy to forget about, especially here on Earth, and she'd sprayed her fair share of rounds at less than optimal distances too, so far the young pilot following her hadn't done that at least from the tracers arcing back at the defenders from further to her left and right the other mobile suit teams weren't as disciplined with their fire.
"I want to grab them by the belt, so… make sure you're inside two kilometers at the most," Durson answered, a mile was still pretty hopeless for the Zaku's machine gun hitting an individual infantry sized target, but it would spray an area pretty well and at the least create a lot of noise and with any luck the attention of the defenders would be firmly on them. Unlike their machine guns Calwell's bazooka should be at an optimal range, the missiles were meant to target ships at distances longer than two kilometers in space, so hitting missile positions and guard towers lining the wall should be no problem.
Sergeant Peters swallowed as he stared at the approaching Zakus. There were three in front of him now, a few more spread across the Eastern perimeter, and other units were reporting more on the West side of the base too, and he didn't even need the night sights to see them anymore, the dark lumbering shapes were jogging towards them, and he could even swear when the wind dropped he could hear the loud clangs of their feet on the ground.
"Sergeant, they're almost in range," the missile gunner said, the young soldier's voice shaking, his eyes pressed to the sight. The other two men were both standing against the side of the missile position, each holding a canister containing another missile, ready to shove them into the launcher when the first fired, each being careful not to get behind the launcher and get caught in the back blast.
Peters felt a bit redundant at this point, but he could see the eyes cast glances at him from time to time, so he tried to look like he belonged there and knew what he was doing. Almost in range meant the Zakus were almost a mile out, any further than that and the missile wouldn't have been able to reach them, so a few more seconds and the missile should be able to reach them and have enough extra propellant to maneuver a bit if they tried to dodge. Plus he had two more shots ready to go so there was no reason not to shoot even if it was at extreme range.
He was about ready to pass his orders to the gunner to let them get a bit closer when someone else down the line let off a shot. The first whoosh was a smaller charge designed to propel the heavy missile out of the tube and it was quickly replaced with a loud bang and scream as the missile's main engine ignited and sent it racing off at one of the distant targets. Before he could yell for his gunner to hold his fire the young soldier jammed on the trigger and the pit filled with dust as the engine shot the heavy missile forward.
Peters cursed his brain still being muddled and tired, he was taking too long to come to a decision, at least he could follow up with another shot soon. The gunner was tracking the target through the sight, and Peters waved the other soldiers with the canister reloads to stay back all three of them unconsciously holding their breath to keep from disturbing the young soldier crouched behind the launcher.
The missile operated on some of the oldest guidance possible, it required the gunner to keep the crosshairs on the target and the launcher's computer would send signals to control the missile down a hair thin copper wire unspooling from the canister that ran to the back of the missile to send it to wherever the crosshairs pointed. The target could move all it wanted so long as the gunner could track it, the missile could run it down as long as it had the fuel to match the target's maneuvers. It was possible the gunner could score a hit this far out, but it would be hard and the last thing the gunner needed was some distraction behind him.
0318 Local
Corporal Wesley Tanner blinked at the flashes along the line, the first one far to his left was obviously not a real factor to him, but the one straight ahead was. He felt his mouth go dry and his stomach clench as his brain processed it. It was a shot, at him, fired in anger by a man who wanted to kill him. As much as he thought he'd be ready for the moment nothing could prepare the teenager for the idea that someone could hate him enough to want him dead. Even he wasn't sure he hated the Federation soldiers enough to want to kill them in particular. He'd always thought of it as shooting at their things, breaking their tanks; never at the men in particular. He could see the glow of the missile streaking towards the chest of his Zaku in the camera, the mobile suit coming to a slow halt as he stared at the glowing exhaust of the anti-tank weapon.
"Tanner, move!" the Lieutenant's voice echoing in his ears drove him back into action, his hands wrenching the controls to the side, sending his Zaku into a jerking hop to the right, a maneuver the missile tried to match, but the sputtering of the engine marked the end of the fuel it had available and the weapon careened into the dirt with a bang and threw shrapnel and dirt he could hear hitting his suit even through the armor.
"They'll have to reload," he could hear the woman's voice again, the radio distorting her normally soft words into something more angrily metallic, "Close the distance, Calwell, start returning fire, Tanner don't shoot until I do."
"Yes, Ma'am" he answered, his voice shaking more than he wanted it to. Calwell's only answer was the whooping bang of his bazooka going off. Tanner could feel the anger rising in him now, if they wanted to try to kill him, then now it was personal.
Marcus Peters swore he could feel the heat of the Zaku's answering shot as it screamed over his head, the engine on the massive missile pulsing with an angry buzz before it smashed through the concrete wall behind the trenches like it was made of tissue paper. It exploded a few seconds later, sending up a flash and stretching shadows out into the desert. He and one of the soldier whose name he didn't even know wrestled the second canister into position, trying to hurry to make sure it was connected to the launcher, but the sudden rush of adrenaline and fear didn't make it as easy as it had been in training.
Peters didn't need to imagine it now, he could hear the crash of the approaching mobile suit's feet, the flash of their mono-eyes sweeping the trenches and more of the pulsing buzzes of missiles down the line as the longer range Zaku bazookas answered the volley of missiles from the Federation positions.
There was a sudden rush relief that they weren't alone as the turbine whine of a Type 61 announced the armored reinforcements working out of the airbase and into position behind the trenches. Peters could hear the turret hydraulics working as the guns tracked towards the approaching Zakus and he couldn't help but whoop as the twin cannons fired, the glow of the shells arcing out at the Zakus. His hands held the missile canister in place as he looked up to watch the shot from the tank. It was a bit high, but he could hear the tank's cannons adjusting already, working to drive the Zeon unit back.
Lieutenant Durson could feel the hum of the Zaku's reactor pick up as she kept trying to coax a little more speed from it, her mobile suit had taken up the lead, Calwell kept stopping to pick targets and provide himself a better shot with the bazooka, which was fine. She had seen the Federation troopers duck just a little further each time it went off, and each missile found something worth shooting at. The first had been intended to detonate on the wall and shower the trench with shrapnel, but it had burst right through the wall. Now he was using the weapon a bit more selectively, making each shot count and if he wanted to take a little time to line up a better shot she wasn't going to admonish him for it. A quick glance back confirmed that Tanner was pushing to try to keep up with her as she rushed towards the trench line, but the C model just wasn't keeping pace with its newer brother and despite Tanner's best efforts she was pulling away from him.
Kimber could feel the excitement in her chest, she was the furthest forward according to the reports from the other mobile suit teams, and the only reason she was holding her fire now was to find a better target. The sudden arrival of the Type 61 from the gate was all she needed, the target crosshair for the Zaku's machine gun drifted over it as the tank's first salvo went high. The shot was rushed, either the gunner was nervous or he was trying to force her back and had taken the first shot that looked even slightly promising.
She didn't even need to evade, her Zaku's feet skidding across the desert as she brought herself to a halt. The mobile suit raised the gun to its shoulder to brace better as she lined up her reply, the soft click of the trigger caused the suit to jerk a bit as the machine gun lit off, the muzzle flash lighting up the desert around her. The few second burst stitched up the side of the tank and the concrete wall behind it, the soft shudder of the tank and the drooping of one of its cannon muzzles announced her first kill on Earth. All of it happened before her Zaku had even come to a complete stop.
"Calwell, try to take out some of the watch towers, there's nothing out in the trenches worth the ammo," Lieutenant Durson turned her attention back to keeping her team organized in the fight. Her Zaku paused for a moment, taking a second to look between her team and the trench. Calwell was stopped aiming at one of the guard towers near the gate and Tanner's burst of machine gun fire, aimed from the hip on the run was throwing up dirt in and around the trenches.
Their weapons weren't quite right for the fight, the machine guns were loaded with a mix of bullets that were intended to fight armored Federation ships in space, her armor piercing bullets had torn right through the tank and Tanner's were burying themselves in the dirt, but the high explosive rounds were doing enough to pick up the slack and the tracers mixed in every few rounds had a psychological effect that was worth it. Calwell's rockets however, they were blowing clean through the concrete wall rather than detonating on it, the concrete was offering far less resistance than battleship hulls and wasn't triggering the rocket's fuses. His shots were punching right through the concrete and continuing on until the missile finally ran into something that offered enough resistance to set the rocket off, or it buried itself into the ground and wasted its explosive charge in the dirt. It was something that would have to be addressed, but right now the noises and explosions of the massive weapon was having the desired effects, chaos, confusion and disorganization even if it wasn't actually destroying what he was shooting at.
From the reports of the approaching Magella tanks on the battalion command networks no one had even noticed their approach from the South yet and units seemed to be leaving the line to head to either the East or West trenches. For a moment Kimber couldn't help but feel a bit bad for the Federation, they were managing to put up a good fight with what they had and now that she had closed the distance the anti-tank missiles would be a much more capable weapon, but in a few more minutes the Magellas and infantry would tip the odds so badly that there would be no way the Federation could hope to hold out.
0322 Local
Colonel Samuel Wells finished buttoning up the tunic of his blue Federation Air Force dress uniform, his white peaked cap tucked under his arm as he made his way to the command center for the airbase he had found himself suddenly in charge of a few days before. Normally a general would have been in charge of as large a base as Kandahar, and there had been one, but the general had left days ago on one of the first Medeas that had left the theater. Wells had only been his executive, the man who had been stationed on the base for longer and knew how to help the general run it. Now here he was, fully in command. It was a position he had wanted forever and one he had sacrificed the better part of twenty three years and two marriages for, but the ship he'd inherited was sinking and someone had to stay behind to go down with the ship, he couldn't help but feel a bit cheated.
"Colonel," one of the officers snapped straight as soon as he walked into the room, "The defenses are holding at the moment, current reports have Zeon strength at only 24 mobile suits, they're divided evenly between our eastern and western perimeter and don't seem to be able to break through." His command staff seemed to be smaller than he'd remembered, most of them had found one reason or another to be sent off the base as the Medeas continued flying everyone who could make it to Kandahar away from the encroaching spacenoids.
"Maybe they're just probing," Colonel Wells muttered, a hand placing the peaked cap onto his shaved head, his skin tanned from the years spent in Kandahar. Maybe it wasn't so bad as he'd thought, the base was more his than the general's anyway, and if anyone had to be the last Federation soldier to evacuate it then it may as well be him. If it was a probing attack then he could probably drive it off, the mobile suits probably didn't want to get too stuck into the attack, they were too valuable, so he could buy some time to finish the evacuation if he could just drive them off. Maybe another day or two and he could have everyone and everything of any value off the base. Of course that was if it was actually just a probe by the Zeon.
He turned back to the officer, "Captain, if there are any other planes loaded and ready to take off, get them out of here, better to be safe…" Colonel Wells trailed off, it would be dangerous for the Medeas but as much as he wanted it to just be a probing attack he didn't think he'd be that lucky, things hadn't exactly been going his way lately.
The scream of engines as another Medea flew low off the Eastern end of the base caused Lieutenant Durson's fists to clench around the controls. The Magellas may have been on time in hitting the southern line, but it was still too long and the plan was too conservative. She could see the failings in it now and it was not something she was happy about. The other units seemed to be content with dancing along the line, spraying off ammunition at the trenches, but now it was grating on her nerves.
The young officer scanned the trench line, other than a destroyed Type 61 and the missile position that was unusually quiet nothing was holding the attack back but their own restraint. She flipped the switch to transmit on the command net again and mashed the button down, "Atlas, this is Rapier 23, we've created a breach, and my unit is going to press the attack."
The response was just as quick, "Copy Rapier 23, Cossack reports minimal resistance, you are released to press the attack."
Kimber was quick to flip the switch back to her team's frequency, "Guys, this is stupid, we have them on the ropes, let's press the attack home. Calwell, shoot anything that looks important, Tanner, we're going to prioritize aircraft and then tanks, try to keep them from evacuating anything else."
She didn't wait for responses from either, mashing both feet down the young officer felt the sudden ignition of her thrusters push her down in her seat as the Zaku fought itself skyward, defying gravity for a few precious seconds as she cleared the trench and the perimeter walls, landing with a smashing of concrete and surprised looks of Federation soldiers running away from her sudden appearance inside the wall. Calwell's Zaku I was the next to arrive, the older suit stumbling a bit on its landing, his thrusters pressed to the limit to get him to match her jump.
"I hope you have more of a plan than this, Lieutenant," Calwell's voice echoed in her ears as she gave a quick survey of where they'd landed. It was warehouses filled with crates, rows of Type 61s ready for transport and various military vehicles spread in front of her. She gave his suit a dirty glare he couldn't have possibly seen as she turned back and scanned for the runway.
"We find the runway and we shut it down," she answered, her response curt as the few seconds of calm they'd gained at an end as alarms started blaring across the base. Tanner's Zaku followed a few seconds later spraying rounds down on the trench as he sailed overhead.
Kimber finally smiled as she spotted the blue lights outlining the taxiway for the airfield. "There," she answered, her Zaku pointing the way for the other two, "We seize the airstrip and we hold until the rest of the force breaks through, nothing else is getting out of here," her Zaku's computer beeped a protest as she lit her thrusters again and hopped her mobile suit over the few Federation infantrymen coming to investigate the sudden chaos inside the walls, spraying rounds down through the thighs of her mobile suit that sent the Federation soldiers scurrying for cover, the rest of her team following on foot a few seconds later.
Sergeant Peters picked himself up from beneath the tossed sandbags and the shattered body of the man who'd been standing next to him, both of them staring in awe as the mobile suits had sailed over their heads. It had been impressive and something surprisingly graceful out of the massive machines, at least until the last one had gone past spraying death down at them. His brain wasn't processing it yet and his whole body felt numb, the blood wet on his face and hands, he wasn't sure where it was all coming from. There was too much to be just the poor missile gunner's and he couldn't figure it out.
The Federation line was filled with noise, screams and yelling. Some of it pain, some of it confusion, and all of it marking the crumbling will of the defenders. His brain finally decided he needed his weapon back, he had to be able to defend himself. Peters slowly sat up, searching for his rifle, but he didn't notice it until he turned his head to the left, which left him a little confused, especially since it was so close.
He reached for his rifle, slipping it into his hands and he planting the butt of it against the ground, using the weapon to push himself to his feet. The pounding of feet drew his head back up, the few troopers slowing as they passed through his dugout, one of them sucking in his breath and stopped,another worked his way towards Peters holding out a hand, "Hey buddy," the soldier started, "Hey, we're getting out of here, buddy… this place is lost… come on… why don't you come with us?"
The words didn't make much sense to Sergeant Peters, he could see the red cross armband on the man's arm marked him as a medic and the look on his face told Peters that something bad had happened, but he didn't know what, the man couldn't possibly think he could do anything for the gunner, he was so obviously dead.
The man's words swam in his ears and something in the medic's tone drew him a few steps forward his vision clouding as he felt the arms slide around his shoulders, his world turning to black as the man's hands wrapped around his load bearing gear, slowly lowering the sergeant to the ground.
"Is he dead?" one of the infantrymen asked, leaning over the medic's shoulder, staring at the torn flesh and ruined left eye of the survivor. The man's uniform was covered in blood and tattered from the shrapnel the huge 120mm round had thrown up when it impacted, it was a shock he had even been standing when they'd gotten there.
"No," the medic answered, "He's just passed out, I think he's in shock… help me get him up, we have to get out of here."
The other soldier sighed as he looked around, he grabbed the wounded man's rifle and slung it over his shoulder, his other hand moving around the injured man's waist, trying to find something that wasn't soaked in blood to hold onto as the group kept moving down the trench, trying to find a quiet area to sneak away from.
0336 Local
Colonel Wells stared out the window at the three mobile suits sprinting towards the runway. Any hope he'd had that it was a probe was gone. "Colonel," the voice drew his gaze back in the building for a moment, "Reports from the southern line, they're under heavy attack by Zeon armor…"
The officer trailed off as Colonel Wells turned back to the window, sighing, his fingers toying with the flap of his service pistol holster. It was a matter of time, he knew, but there was hope another Medea or two could get off the runway, and that could make the sacrifices worth it. His eyes found the two cargo planes spooling up their engines on the tarmac, his fingers fell away from the pistol, "Very well, order units off the Northern defensive line, they're to set up to hold the runway from those three," he pointed out the windows to the three Zakus, "They're to hold until any aircraft who are ready for takeoff leave the runway, then all units are to attempt to break contact and retreat.
0341 Local
The sight of another Medea lurching forward was enough to spur Kimber on, the rest of her team and the security checkpoint she had been firing at were forgotten as she slammed the Zaku into a sprint. The computers blared back a warning and she could feel the heat rising in the cockpit, not all of it from the environmental control system anymore. It didn't matter to her, she was confident the suit could take it, and she was not going to let another plane escape. The young woman slapped at the button to silence the warnings and checked the ammo counter on her machine gun, it was low but it would be enough. It wasn't far to the runway, and she could beat the Medea if she hurried. The sight of the Type 61 rounding a hanger caused a curse to rise in her throat.
Before she could utter a word a rocket screamed past her suit, smashing the tank through sheer kinetic force, detonating only after it smashed through the tank and into the ground. "Go, Lieutenant, Tanner and I can handle the tanks," Calwell's words were still hard in her ears, but she wasn't about to let herself get distracted any more.
The Medea had made it to the end of the runway, and the second was moving down the taxiway behind it when her Zaku's feet made it to the edge of the middle of the runway. The plane lurched forward, trying to race past her and climb into the relative safety of the skies when she lit her thrusters, flying down the concrete strip, head on with the plane. The computer's warnings screamed in her ears and the temperature in the cockpit spiked up again, the computer's protests mixing with the squeal of her Zaku's feet against the tarmac as she lurched the suit forward, trying to cut the plane off. The F-Type had powerful thrusters, but they were made for space and not for fighting against gravity, and the young officer wasn't sure it would be enough to get her to the plane in time. Her finger jammed down the trigger and the bark of the machine gun echoed in the cockpit.
She could see her tracers hitting the plane, and rounds sparking on its surfaces and punching through the fuselage, but the plane started to climb off the runway as her machine gun clicked dry, narrowly clearing her Zaku's head. For a moment Kimber thought it hadn't been enough, that the plane would climb away, but the tail drooped, and the engines flared and roared as the pilots applied more power, the sudden burst of power was quickly followed by a belch black smoke and then fire as the stricken aircraft tried to claw into the air. It seemed like minutes before the plane stalled, the wing buckling as the plane turned over, fire from the engines spreading through the plane, and the whole mess came tumbling down into a fireball on the edge of the runway.
She turned to look at the second Medea as its engines ran up on the end of the runway, the pilots looking at each other in the cockpit. The Zaku's computer automatically popped the ammunition drum free of the machine gun and the mobile suit tossed it aside and grabbed the spare drum from the rear of the armored skirt. She could see the indecision in the pilots as her targeting crosshair swayed over the aircraft's cockpit, debating if they could beat her reloading or if they would join the other plane as a smoldering wreckage.
Her Zaku made the decision for them as the second drum was slammed home and the machine gun cycled a fresh round into the chamber, the Zaku leveling the machine gun at the plane's cockpit. The whine of the engines quieted as the pilots pulled the throttle back raised their hands from the controls. Kimber sighed and slumped back in her chair as she looked at the clock in the cockpit. It wasn't even 4 AM local, her unit's whole attack had taken barely a half an hour and it still felt like the longest thing she'd ever done.
The clanging of Tanner's Zaku behind her drew her back upright in her seat, and Calwell moved off to her left, watching the Medea closely, and for once silently. She could hear the soft clicking of the generator and hear the metal of her Zaku popping as it started to cool, "What about the other tanks?" she finally asked turning to look behind her at the small trail of destruction they'd wrought through the base.
"The majority turned and ran when the plane blew up, I guess the whole defense is collapsing," Tanner answered, "We've been ordered to hold here, await resupply and orders," the young man almost sounded disappointed. Kimber could feel the ache starting in her shoulders and for once she was happy to take a second and relax.
0350 Local
Colonel Wells turned from the window, waiting until after he heard the room grow still and the door close for the last time. The command center was empty now, the remaining officers taking their chance to flee the base while confusion still offered them some hope of escaping the Zeon soldiers. He could see the Zeon tanks pouring through the gate and rolling down the streets of his base, and the cursed mobile suits standing in the middle of his runway.
The click of his boots against the tiled floor echoed in the empty room as Colonel Wells headed for the commander's desk. He sat down behind it slowly and placed his peaked cap on the table, taking his time he unsnapped the holster to his pistol and set the weapon on the desk, laying out the two spare magazines for the gun next to it. A few movements of his fingers on the controls set the computers in the control room to erasing themselves, at least he could secure something.
He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair, letting the automated system do its work until he heard the sound of boots outside the door. The colonel rose again slowly and deliberately, placing his cap back on his head, straightening his collar before he picked up the pistol and racking the slide. It was still his base, and he would be damned if he surrendered it to the Zeon, if they wanted it, they would have to take it from him.
0445 Local
Sergeant Calwell turned his attention from the Medea when the crew was lead off the plane by the arriving infantry. It was a process that took far longer than he'd assumed it would since the plane had turned out to be packed with retreating Federation soldiers and wounded. It was enough to make him glance at the other aircraft's wreckage and wonder, if only for a moment, what it had been carrying.
The Lieutenant was busy with the commander of the arriving Magellas, apparently arguing over the positioning of the tanks and getting their mobile suits off the runway. The infantry had locked the runway down, for the moment he was back to having nothing in particular to do. Locked away alone in the cockpit with his thoughts Calwell leaned back in the seat and looked out over the airfield he had fought to take.
The sun was starting to come up in the East, and it was something was always in awe of on Earth, it had a look to it that the best artificial attempts of the colony cylinders just couldn't match. He glanced at the view screens before deciding it didn't quite do it justice and he punched the controls to open the hatch. The main screen went black before it slid out of the way as the cockpit opened, letting him watch the sky turn from black to purple to reds and yellows as the sun slid out from behind the mountains.
The cold slap of the wind and the dust that peppered his mobile suit and dusted his uniform were all things he could have never imagined. The whole moment would have been perfect, it was marred only by the smear of rising black smoke from the plane the Lieutenant had shot down. It was a silent reminder that there would be a lot of people missing the sun rise this morning.
Callwell wasn't sure what to make of the young officer anymore, maybe he had been a bit hasty in judging the young woman. He'd assumed she was there only to look at combat from behind him and be able to say later that she had been there for something and had smelled gunpowder at least once, but she hadn't hesitated to rush ahead of everyone, and without so much as a request for help. Either she was foolish, brave, or maybe there was something more to her he hadn't figured out yet. Either way, Calwell decided he would have to give the young woman a chance, at least until she proved she deserved otherwise.
Thanks for making it this far! This is my first attempt at writing again after a long hiatus, hopefully it was as much fun to read as it was to write. I certainly intend to take the 144th much further than this, but I'm hoping for a bit of feedback first, so please don't hold back on the reviews! I'll do my best to respond, either here or personally if you prefer, and this prologue may even be getting a re-write as well depending on the input.