Disclaimer: I own nothing besides the UER.
The room was silent, as its occupants gazed at one another, wondering what had brought them all together. Most of the stares and looks were benign, but most of those that inhabited the room regarded one character with suspicion.
Admiral Mary Ishimura knew of the others' mistrust of her. She was, after all, the Director of the feared - and sometimes hated - Office of Republic Intelligence. She was the one behind all of the secretive research and experiments ORI performed. She was the one in charge of espionage and internal affairs within the UER. Mary Ishimura was the one who controlled the intelligence behemoth that was the Office of Republic Intelligence. And they feared her for it - hated her for it.
They did not realize that all she did - all that ORI did - was for the sole purpose of protecting humanity from all threats, external and internal.
With her in the room were several other key figures of the United Earth Republic; General Milburn Newton, the current overarching commander of the UER Army of CENTCOM; General August Lindgren, of the UER Marine Corps and EXPECOM; Admiral Gwynn Eirian, the commander behind most of the UER's special operations units, under SPECWARCOM; and Admiral Qamar Abdullah, the current commanding officer of LOGCOM, the logistics powerhouse behind the Republic's military. These were the officials that, together, substantiated HIGHCOM.
There was also the civilian side of the congregation; Laura Warren, the Treasurer; Emerson Woodham, the Director of Commerce; and Senator Vinh Nguyen, the current Head of the Senate, amongst others. They were only missing one person, the one who always seemed to be late amongst them. And it annoyed the pragmatic, stoic ORI Director to no end.
Suddenly, the sole entrance to the room slid open, and in walked a stoutly man, one Admiral of the Navy Geoffrey Toussaint. The leader of NAVCOM, and the current head of the UER Elected Council - in effect, the leader of the United Earth Republic overall.
"Thank you all, for coming here on such short notice." Without hesitation, Toussaint sat down in his seat at the head of the table, before regarding each of the other occupants with a hard stare. "I'm sure most of you are wondering why I've called an emergency meeting of the Elected Council and High Command."
Before he could continue, Director Woodham interrupted, standing up with brash notions. "That is a large understatement, Admiral. I know the military has its secrets, and its own business, but this is outrageous." He took a moment to slap his hand on some of his documents on the table before continuing. "Trade has been disrupted, civilian transport has been delayed, sometimes even terminated altogether! All of the economic facets of the civilian side of the United Earth Republic have been shoehorned, and I demand answers!"
The Admiral of the Navy waited patiently for Woodham to finish, before raising a hand in a placating manner. "And, Mister Woodham, if you would let me finish, I will give those answers."
"It is a simple matter to tell you all that the United Earth Republic is under attack by unknown alien forces."
The various officials of the Elected Council shuffled in their seats, eager to hear more news. "November 14th, 2253, the colony of Antioch was assaulted by a large fleet of hostile aliens, shortly after making diplomatic contact with a different group of aliens. I'm sure you've all heard of the initial first contact made by one Captain Hans Shepard, but I'm afraid the situation has escalated. Antioch is under siege, and UER military forces are engaged in a desperate battle for the colony."
"As such, UER High Command has seen fit to mobilize the entirety of the United Earth Republic military. While we've always been on high alert in preparation for any potential Insurrection attacks, the military is now fully posted for any instance of total war against another sovereign power. That, Mister Woodham, is why civilian commerce and trade has been interrupted as such."
Fully cowed, the Director of Commerce sat down, mind racing at the possibilities of full war with an alien species. "I understand, sir."
"As such, I have ordered the 32nd Fleet to leave Braxton IV, and rush to reinforce the 15th at Antioch. The rest of the UER military is readying for war, whatever the circumstance, and I have received one final transmission from Admiral Vasily Mikhailov of the 15th that the friendly faction of aliens, deemed the "Citadel Council," is calling for us to send an ambassador to their Citadel, whatever that is. Senator Nguyen, you're in charge of that." The man in question nodded.
"Gentlemen, ladies. The United Earth Republic is now committed to this war. What happens next is unknown, but whatever happens, we will triumph. You all know what to do—I'll be sending detailed dossiers of your tasks at hand. Dismissed." He stood up with the others, the meeting adjourned, and all of the occupants of the room saluted, before leaving together.
"Tell me again, Lieutenant. Here I stand, at the precipice of possibly the most momentous event in the entire history of humanity, and yet, you want me to completely ignore any chances of inserting our agents deep within alien ranks. What are you suggesting?"
The lieutenant in question tried his best not to tremble before the woman in front of him, his mind working in overdrive. "N-nothing, ma'am. I'm simply saying that we shouldn't delegate agents already infiltrated within Insurrection ranks to be pulled out and instead inserted into alien territory. It's illogical, ma'am, to ignore decades' worth of time infiltrating Insurrection cells."
"And yet, that was not at all what I intended to do, Lieutenant. I appreciate your concerns, but they are, overall, unnecessary."
"Y-y-yes, ma'am." The man gave a hasty salute, before leaving the room. As he left, another man entered, ignoring the lieutenant's lack of a salute towards him.
"Colonel Nelson. Glad to have you here."
The new man saluted, before smiling at the woman who greeted him. "Mary, Mary, I expected more than that. You did promise wine the last time we talked."
The woman, Mary Ishimura, frowned, but retained the hint of a smirk. "Nelson, you can stick that wine up your ass. I promised no such thing." She stood up from her seat, before turning around. "Now, Nelson, this is a matter of serious importance. Get your game face on."
"Yes, ma'am."
"I'm sure you've heard all about the hostile alien contact, and the battle going on right now on Antioch. It's been the talk of the entirety of ORI. The problem is, while the rest of the UER is focused entirely on Antioch, nobody is paying attention to the rest of the galaxy." The Director of ORI turned back around, putting her hands on her desk. "We've got an entire galaxy of aliens, and we need to know what exactly is out there. This is where you come in. Nelson, I want you to set up a task force to infiltrate alien ranks, both hostile and friendly. That means you'll need to set up two separate teams."
"Yes, ma'am. Anything else?"
"Yes, Colonel. I'm giving you a blank check for this. Any assets you need, any resources you need, you'll get. After these initial operations, we'll be slowly growing the amount of agents in alien territory, but for now, you're all I'm allocating."
"Yes, ma'am. I'll notify teams Silent Lamb and Black Eye immediately."
"BAC-SIG, eh? I like your style, Nelson. Go see Captain Wickerson to prepare. Like I said, anything you need, you'll get. Dismissed."
Corporal Kevin Bradley looked out the window of the apartment building, tightly grasping his rifle as he did so. He watched for even the slightest hint of movement outside, having set his TacSight to Night Vision. The night air of Antioch was humid, yet silent, as moon continued to slowly creep across the sky.
"Anything yet, Bradley?"
He looked to his left to see another marine on watch, this one carrying an R72 Enhanced Marksman's Rifle with an attached scope.
"Nothing yet, Soucy. Keep watch on that building across the street, that's a critical chokepoint there."
"Roger."
Since the initial engagement at the outskirts of the city, the marines had pulled back to the interior. The 88th and 51st Armored had set up watch in the town center, rotating shifts in their tanks, while the Army was spread out throughout the city. Last they had heard the Rangers outside of the city were stalking the enemy, now discovered to be batarians and krogan.
The marines, however, were in charge of holding critical chokepoints throughout the city. Winter Company, Avenger Company, and Misfit Company had been tied together, and, at the current moment, were spread amongst several apartment buildings, while Viper was out reinforcing the 151st Mechanized to the north. The enemy had already attempted several assaults on the buildings, yet to no avail as the marines held their ground again and again, As night fell, the aliens pulled back, probably hoping to gather their strength.
It was probable that the enemy was planning an assault during the night, so the marines were fully active and on watch.
At the same time, it was heard that the H/HR Mechanized, whom had caused no small amounts of chaos amongst enemy ranks, had pulled back, after destroying a portion of the enemy forces. They were resting, and thus, the marines couldn't count on Scarecrow aid this time.
Bradley hastily checked the TacPad on his wrist. 0530 hours. Dawn would likely arrive in a few minutes—the enemy was most likely to attack soon, if ever.
Suddenly, Bradley saw something shift down on the ground. He immediately raised his rifle, aiming at the movement, while changing his TacSight to IRNV—Infrared Night Vision. His visor, while already flooded with green light, shifted to show heat signatures, and he could see a spot of red, yellow, and orange at the spot he was aiming at. He kept watch on it, when suddenly, he saw a mass of heat rushing from a nearby street.
"Movement! Ground level, 3 o'clock!"
At the same time, however, Soucy, the other marine on watch, trained his DMR on a nearby building. "I've got movement, apartment building across the street, fifth floor!" The two marines looked at each other, confirming the other's statements, when a hail of tracers suddenly flew into the windows. Bradley dove to the ground, grabbing hold of the radio nearby.
"Contact, contact! Enemy forces in apartment buildings across the street and on the ground level!"
The marines throughout the rest of the buildings returned fire on the enemy, and red tracers immediately filled the air, some hitting their marks. "Soucy, status!" Bradley got up, and looked towards Soucy, only to see the marine dead on the ground, a bloody hole in his chest. Thinking quickly, Bradley rushed towards the corpse, before picking up the dead marine's R72 EMR. Bradley slammed his back against the wall under the window, breathing heavily. After a moment's rest, the marine grasped the rifle, and peeked over the windowsill. He trained the DMR at the nearest batarian he could see and pulled the trigger three times. The first shot nearly broke through its shields, making it stumble. The second broke the shields entirely, and sent it sprawling to the ground, before the third pierced its head, leaving a gaping hole in between the lower pair of eyes. In return, a mass of tracers flew towards Bradley, and he ducked down, dust flying through the air.
A few seconds later, the nearby door into the room slammed open, and Bradley aimed his rifle, before spotting Gray, Cooper, Alves, and Ybarra entering the room. "Bradley, you alright?"
"I'm good, sir. Soucy's down, though. Alien fuckers managed to surprise us."
"Alright, Alves, pull Soucy's body back into a safe position. Ybarra, Bradley, cover Cooper as he sets up his gun. Rest of our guys are holding apartment blocks bravo and charlie, so alpha's up to us."
"Any reason they left the entirety of this building to one squad, sarge?"
"This building is out of the way, Alves, means we don't need to focus as much on it. Same case with building delta."
Bradley and Ybarra crept up against the windows again, before laying down suppressing fire. As they did so, Cooper set up his R260B Medium Machine Gun on a bipod, and, when finished, began to lay into the aliens in the street. Alves soon joined them, and within seconds, the entire squad was shooting down at the aliens on the ground."
"Sir, what about building delta? X-rays have control of that, who's covering that one?"
"Avenger 4-1 went in there and cleared it out already, they're preparing an MGL right now. No worries about that."
"Cooper, cover right, new targets coming in through street level!"
"Roger! Suppressing fire!"
"I'm reloading! Alves, cover me!"
Suddenly, Bradley's vision was blinded, as a bright light beamed into existence in the air. "God damnit! Fuck, my eyes are burning!" Bradley hastily turned his IRNV off in his visor, before sitting back. Sergeant Gray ducked down, before looking at him.
"Bradley, you alright? Don't take your helmet off!"
"I'm good, sir. You see what that light was?"
Gray fired a few rounds out the window, before crouching back down. "Fuckers shot off a few illumination mortars into the sky above the apartments. Doesn't affect them much, but they can see us now, and every marine that had his IRNV on is now blinded. Which means a lot of us."
"Fuck, my eyes hurt. Alright, I'm good, I'm good." Noticing the growing orange and red in the sky above, Bradley looked back down at his TacPad for a second, before noticing the time. "0545 hours, sarge! Dawn's about to hit!"
As he said that, Bradley was interrupted by a sudden light beaming down from the east, behind the enemies on the ground. Slowly, the Ajax System's sun, Alexander, rose over the horizon, and the light gradually revealed the mass of enemies on the ground.
"Holy hell, that's a fuckton more than I thought there were! Where did they all come from?"
The light had revealed the enemy, yes, but it had shown them that the marines were much more outnumbered than they originally thought they had been. The aliens on the ground seemed to look like a colony of ants, rushing about and about, while firing back up at the marines in the buildings, with more streaming in from the street.
"Don't worry about how many they are, keep firing! Hold them off!"
Bradley got back up, once more grasping his commandeered R72, and fired several rounds at the enemy. He saw a few hostiles go down, and ducked down before the aliens could respond. "Cooper! How many rounds you got left in that belt?" In response, Cooper continued to fire, until his machine gun stopped spitting out rounds.
"No more left! Cover me as I reload!"
However, with the threat of a machine gun gone, the batarians closest to apartment block alpha rose up, firing waves of rounds at Winter 3-2. The squad was forced to duck down at once, before they could be skewered by projectiles. Sergeant Gray crawled back, before turning his radio on. "Winter 6, Winter 3-2, we are pinned down in block alpha, need immediate assistance!" With a quick peek over the windowsill, Gray could see several batarians hacking down the front doors to the apartment building, before rushing in. "Enemy troops are heading inside the building at ground level, need immediate assistance, over!"
"Negative, Winter 3-2. Gridiron is inbound on the ground, ETA five mikes. Get to the rooftops now, and hold them off, over."
"Sir, we're cut off! We're done if we don't get more marines here right now, alpha's being flooded by hostile troops!"
"Negative, sergeant, we can't afford to send any more marines. Winter 6 out."
"God damnit, Cole. Alright, Winter 3-2, get your backs to the window and watch the door. They'll be coming in soon, we need to hold for five more minutes." Gray grasped his rifle, laying prone on the ground.
"Alright, game plan is to get to the rooftop. Unless we can get topside, we're done. Got it?" The rest of the squad stated their affirmations, before grabbing making ready, while Ybarra relayed the orders through the radio.
For a few seconds, the marines of Winter 3-2 watched the one door into the room, while listening for any signs of incoming batarians. They could hear shouts, and the sounds of heavy boots running up the emergency stairs, before suddenly, a batarian walked in. The alien was immediately filled with bullets, and fell to the ground, looking very much like an alien fillet. "Alright, Winter 3-2, move up, move up! Get out of the room, it's a death trap now!"
The five marines rushed forwards, firing upon a few more batarians who entered the room, before exiting the room. "Bradley, cover our six, we're moving up the building!"
"Copy!" Bradley stuck to the tail of the small squad, aiming his rifle back as he watched for any pursuing batarians. A few came around the corner, and were promptly shot down by Bradley. As the squad reached the stairs, and started to ascend, Bradley could see the shadows of incoming batarians, elongated by the sun shining in through the windows of the building. "Keep moving up, they're on our tail!"
"Wait, wait, Gray! They're retreating! Look!"
Bradley looked back, along with the rest of his squad, to see that Alves' words rang true. The batarians on their tail had turned around, and were now fleeing downstairs, eventually exiting the building altogether. Outside, the squad could hear the familiar sounds of Phalanx tanks firing off their massive guns.
"Looks like Gridiron got here in time."
"New target, 45 by 30, hard to port, and ready broadsides!"
"Firing lanes clear, sir!"
"Fire!"
The RNS Viridian Green let out a loose shudder, before the entirety of its starboard flank erupted with bursts. A full salvo of heavy slugs tore through space, before impacting on a nearby krogan cruiser, causing a slew of explosions within the alien vessel. It slowly drifted to the side, corpses floating out of the newly made hull breaches, and Admiral Vasily Mikhailov switched his attention to another hostile dreadnought in front of him, noting the previous vessel as destroyed.
"Tactical, how do our shields look?"
"They're at 45 percent, admiral! Wolf Pack Haverson really took the pressure off of us back there."
"Remind me to buy Captain Umoja a drink after this. Comms, what's the status of the fleet?"
Lieutenant Sandersonraced his fingers across his console, reading different reports from the various remaining vessels of the 15th Fleet. "Casualties are at 40 percent, sir! The enemy fleet's lost 68 percent of their forces—that initial jump into their lines really gave us the advantage."
"Thank you, Lieutenant. Tactical, new target, 12 o'clock, fire both main guns!"
Two 5 ton slugs raced across the open space, before impacting upon the alien dreadnought in front of the Viridian Green. Its already weakened shields flared violently, before, with a surreal crash, the blue aura around the vessel seemed to dissipate, leaving the dreadnought defenseless.
"Helm, bring us down so that their underside is exposed! Tactical, arm both bow torpedoes, and get me a firing solution on that ship's hull."
"Torpedoes armed and ready, admiral!"
Vasily waited until the underbelly of the batarian dreadnought in front of the Viridian Green was fully exposed, before giving the order to fire both armed torpedoes. The BLU-97 Fracture Torpedoes streaked towards their target, giving off a bright red stream of gas and light as they did so, and, after a few moments, impacted against the vulnerable hull of the batarian dreadnought.
Fracture torpedoes were, without a doubt, one of the most important, and devastating, weapons in the UER's naval arsenal. Though they did minimal, almost superficial damage against shields, the Fracture torpedoes utilized a thermobaric reaction to completely devastate any vulnerable vessel they were aimed at. Due to the lack of oxygen in space, the torpedoes carried an internal pocket of oxygen, piercing the targeted vessel before detonating its payloadat such high frequencies and yields that they rivaled nuclear and hydrogen-based explosives, and had a side-effect of producing sonic blasts.
In short, they could easily shred a vulnerable ship to pieces from the inside out if hit in a critical location.
And, in short, the batarian dreadnought, hit in such a weak part of its hull, proceeded to evaporate in the space it once inhabited, unable to cope with such a fatal weapon.
"Tactical, how're our pilots doing out there?"
"They're hanging on, admiral, but they're highly outnumbered. Sabre Actual reported that their strike craft seem to be of generally lower quality than ours, but that's the only word we've gotten so far."
Admiral Mikhailov simply nodded, before, once again, gazing into the tactical view, gauging the 15th's next moves.
1st Lieutenant Ryan "Maester" Kovac deftly rolled his F-41 Fighter to the side, narrowly dodging incoming debris, before engaging his thrusters and pulling forwards, towards the waypoint on his HMD visor. "Ozone-1, this is Ozone-6, pulling ahead towards waypoint alpha, we still got mission confirmation?"
"Affirmative, 6, stay in your lane, Ozone Squadron is inbound on the waypoint in T-minus ten seconds, out."
Within seconds, Ryan had reached the waypoint, before rolling his fighter to the left and turning on a dime. Not a moment after, five other Kestrel fighters had joined his, and he assumed his position on the right flank of the formation.
"All callsigns Ozone, mission from the RNS Number Misfit is green, orders are to link up with Gungnir, flight of three B-63 Peregrine Bombers, and escort them on a fire mission on Target Lima, one-point-two kilometer vessel, marked red on your HMDs. We've got a maximum of ten mikes for this mission, so make your pursuits count. Turn on heading 3-1-0, and let's roll. Good Hunting, Ozone."
As the naval battle in the Ajax System had continued, Admiral Vasily Mikhailov had seen fit to detach one of the 15th's designated Wolf Packs, led by the RNS Number Misfit, a Vector-Class Battlecruiser, from the main formation. Mikhailov had tasked the Number Misfit with aiding the battle as it evolved, and soon, orders had come from the admiral to scramble fighters and bombers for emergency missions.
As it was, the various strike craft of the Number Misfit were tasked with weakening a hostile vessel whose shields were downed, deemed a "batarian dreadnought," which was now marked as Target "Lima." After an initial poke into enemy fighter screens, Ozone Squadron was pulled back, and had been readied for their primary mission.
Ryan's thoughts were interrupted by a sudden crackle in his ear, and he could hear the voice of his wingman—err, wingwoman, he corrected, one Jennifer Hawkins. "Hey, Maester, first mission, right?"
Ryan's squadron of six Kestrel fighters, Ozone Squadron, was originally a unit of five, until Ryan Kovac, fresh out of the UER's "elite" flight training school, "Zero Mike Zulu," had been attached to Ozone Squadron. Initially, Ryan had been incredibly nervous of facing actual real combat—he was what many would call timid, shy, demure, even, though that adjective was generally reserved for members of the fairer sex. The young pilot of polish descent, only 18 years of age, was socially inept, and could not identify with the other members of Ozone Squadron, despite their continuous efforts of welcoming him into their fold. Ryan had always hated combat, and always shied away from the thought of killing others.
Flying though, was where Ryan belonged. Flying was where he was completely comfortable, where he was in his element—nowhere else, in no other situation, would he be as relaxed and tempered. And when the other members of Ozone Squadron had first seen Ryan in action, in a flight exercise, they had quickly slapped the nickname of Maester on him, to exemplify his skill in piloting his F-41 Kestrel Space/Air Superiority Fighter.
"I, uh, I would have to say yes to that, Hawkins. Haven't seen combat, before, uh, ma'am."
"Don't ma'am me, Maester. We're the same rank. Ah, but still, cheer up, right? You'll get used to it in no time, so get those butterflies outta' your stomach!"
"Erm, yes ma'am, I mean, Hawkins. Will do—"
"Cut the chatter, Ozone dash 5, 6. We're inbound on waypoint bravo, link up is in T-minus fifteen. Get your game face on."
Nodding, Ryan swallowed any remnants of saliva in his mouth, before tightening and loosening his hold on the fighter's controls. A bit later, the squadron joined up with a formation of three B-63 Peregrine Bombers, and Ozone assumed positions around the bombers, in a threatening and protective manner.
"Ozone-3, 4, radar contact, closing fast on your port. Tally two, no IFF tone back, marked bogeys. Break left, break left."
"Copy, Ozone-1. Breaking left, on heading 2-8-5."
As their words echoed through the comms, the two F-41 Kestrels on the left side of the formation broke off, thrusting off towards the left. As they did so, two crafts approached to Ozone's front, and seemed to move away as well, seemingly tailing Ozone-2 and 3."
"Ozone, Ozone, new radar contacts, closing fast from our starboard. Tally six, IFF tones back hostiles, marked bandits. Brace, brace."
Moments later, Ryan's view was filled with tracers, and suddenly six fighters of unknown make streaked past, and his shields flared, decreasing by an insignificant amount.
"Bandits, bandits! Dash 2, 5, 6, engage, break right, break right!"
Ryan, along with his wingmate, as he deemed appropriate, and Ozone-2, broke right off the formation, and Ryan found himself on the tail of one of the batarian fighters, tracking it as it weaved and bobbed through space, attempting to lose him. "Ozone-5, they're splitting! I'm engaging, pushing to bandit marked one." A number popped over the batarian fighter Ryan was chasing, detailing on his HMD that he had targeted it. Two green lights briefly flashed into the corner of his visor, showing Ozone-2 and 5's acknowledgements.
As Ryan tailed the batarian fighter to his front, he looked to his armaments. One 35mm cannon, 8 M412 Multi-Purpose Missiles, and 6 M293 Integrated Assault Missiles. His M293s were out of the question, they were reserved for ground attack. On the other hand, the bandit he was pursuing was moving much too often to use his cannon effectively, so he would have to reserve his ammunition for later. That left his 8 M412s, missiles that could be armed and rearmed for different uses, from active radar, to semi-active, to even passive radar or unguided launch. They were the jack of all trades, the product of the UER's combining of the multitude of different missiles used by—and on—21st century jets.
Thus, with the current situation, Ryan armed his M412s for passive locks, commonly known as "infrared guiding," or, even more commonly known as, "heatseeking." In a couple of seconds, the missiles had locked onto the batarian fighter, and Ryan waited for any signs of countermeasures before firing the missiles.
And, lo and behold, Ryan's lock was disrupted as the bandit to his front launched some sort of combination of radar chaff and ECM jammer, letting off small pieces of material that gave off eerie lights in space. Rushing past the loosed countermeasures, Ryan continued to pursue the fighter, relocking the M412s. Unable to escape, the batarian fighter attempted to pull away, yet could not sway Ryan as he pulled the trigger. "Ozone-6, fox two, fox two." The missile streaked towards its target, pulling ahead, until it finally impacted the batarian fighter, instantly breaking its shields and disabling the bandit. The fighter exploded, and Ryan's Kestrel rushed past, a slight feeling of disgust threatening to mar the grin on Ryan's face. "Good hit, good kill. Splash one."
"Watch out, 6! Bandit's on your tail on heading 3-1-0, incoming cannon fire!"
With Hawkin's words, Ryan's shields flared once again, dipping down to a fearful 58%, before he bled his speed and angled his fighter slightly to his port, back-thrusting the craft to a slight stall before re-engaging the thrusters as the bandit flew past him, obviously miffed at Ryan's breakneck maneuver. "No worries, 5, I'm on his tail now. In pursuit."
The new batarian, now trying to escape Ryan, broke left, rolling on its side before angling itself down. Now over his opponent, Ryan rolled his Kestrel to his right, before dipping down as well, attempting to get himself within cannon range. In response, the batarian fighter pulled hard to the left, attempting to get behind Ryan.
"Ozone-6, bandit's breaking onto your port side."
"I see him, 5."
"He's passin' under you, watch your six!"
"Shit, he's on my tail! I'm moving to defend."
In a daring maneuver, the batarian fighter had broken to the left, luring Ryan into pursuing, until it passed under him, rising back onto Ryan's tail. With a slight grunt, Ryan rolled to the right, narrowly avoiding a burst of cannon fire from his enemy. A moment later, his Kestrel started beeping, signaling that the bandit was locking onto Ryan. "Enemy lock, enemy lock! Dumping flares!"
The "flares" that UER strike craft were not flares, as per the name, due to the lack of oxygen in space prohibiting the use of heat or fire based countermeasures. Instead, UER craft used a combination of radar chaffs and ECM smoke to achieve a flare-like effect, very similar to the system the destroyed batarian fighter had used earlier.
With a slight jerk upwards and to the right, Ryan's Kestrel dumped a series of ECM chaffs, and the batarian fighter's missile, deemed a miniature version of the disruptor torpedoes they used on their larger vessels, veered to his port side, chasing after one of the "flares" Ryan had dumped. A series of bright blue tracers then rushed past Ryan, and his shields dropped a slight amount. "Ozone-5, I'm circling right! What's your status?"
"Bandit on my side is down, pulling back to you now. 2 is finished as well, he's heading back to Gungnir. Shit, Maester, you've got another bandit on your tail!"
Fuck, thought Ryan. He now had two batarian fighters on his tail, and was stuck on his own until Hawkins came to his aid. Moments later, a series of bullets streaked to his starboard side, and Ryan took a glance behind him to see that there were now two bandits on his tail. Thinking quickly, he sent his Kestrel into a roll, before pulling off a maneuver he had learned on his own in Zero Mike Zulu, sending his craft flying upwards and to the left while still rolling. He engaged the back-thrusters, sending his fighter to a near dead stop, before Ryan hit the afterburners, sending his Kestrel to breakneck speeds, and finished by yawing his fighter to the right.
The maneuver, titled the "Roskensky Maneuver," combined a barrel roll (1) with Pugachev's Cobra, effectively sending the two bandits soaring past Ryan below him, while placing Ryan in a favorable position above the two batarian fighters. For most that were untrained, the extensive g-forces in use with the Roskensky Maneuver would render them unconscious, and, therefore, dead in a dogfight. Indeed, Roskensky, the first human to pull off the maneuver, had nearly blacked out, and would have died if it were not for his extensive training. Ryan, however, had always had an aptitude for regulating the g-forces acting on his body, and only experienced a slight amount of nausea, nowhere near enough to affect him.
Now fully behind the two bandits, Ryan decided to pursue the one closer to him, arming his M412s for active radar. Though Ryan did not hear any signs of his missiles locking on, he knew that if they used a similar system, the batarian fighter in front of him would hear a lock-on tone, and would use countermeasures in an attempt to escape.
Thus, Ryan was not surprised when a series of small, metallic materials came flying out of the bandit's tail, but it was to no avail. Ryan engaged his afterburner again, rapidly closing the distance, before firing off his M412 at close range. The missile closed the remaining distance, and detonated against the batarian fighter, breaking its shields and severely damaging its systems, sending it cartwheeling into space, not destroyed, but effectively crippled and disabled.
"Fox three, fox three! Missile has hit, splash one!"
"Good kill, Maester. You've got another to your port, he's breaking away again!"
"Copy, 5, pulling left now!"
"No need, 6. Guns, guns, guns."
With her words, Hawkin's Kestrel soared past Ryan's front, before she spun up her L26 35mm Rotary Gauss Cannon, sending hundreds of 35mm tungsten rounds at the last remaining bandit. Ryan watched as the batarian fighter's shields collapsed within a couple seconds under the tremendous barrage, before exploding altogether, unable to handle the copious amounts of bullets fired at it at such extreme velocities.
"Good hit, good kill. Splash one on my end, Maester. Come on, let's head back to Gungnir, link up with the rest of Ozone Squadron."
"Copy, Hawkins. On your six now."
The two F-41 Kestrel Fighters flew back to rendezvous with the rest of their squadron and Gungnir, and Ryan watched the ongoing naval battle between the UER's 15th Fleet and the batarian-krogan fleet. The battle seemed to be going well—Ryan thought that he could see more enemy casualties than friendly. At the same time, however, Ryan frowned, fraught with disgust and sorrow and the loss of life on both ends.
And now that he was coming off of his adrenalin high from the dogfights, Ryan had come to realize that he had taken lives—alien lives, yes, but still, he had killed fellow sentient beings. Bile threatened to rush into his mouth at such a thought, but Ryan pushed it back down, attempting to cope with such thoughts.
Sometime later, Ozone-5 and Ozone-6 linked up with the rest of Ozone Squadron, which was still escorting Gungnir towards Target Lima. "Ozone-5, Ozone-6, glad to have you back, you have fun with your little gala back there?"
"Affirmative, 1. We had our fun. 3, 4, you guys green?"
"That's a yes, Hawkins, we have good ends, good highs, good lows, no out lights. We're fine, thank you for asking."
"Copy. Let's go, Target Lima is three mikes out."
Then, another voice, unfamiliar to Ryan's ears, echoed into his ear, signaling a transmission from Gungnir-1, the leader of their charge of B-63s. "Ozone-1, Gungnir-1, Target Lima is three mikes out, mission confirmation from Number Misfit is green. Request is for you to push in first with cannons and M293s, and then we'll head in with our payload. Solid Copy?"
"Solid copy, Gungnir-1, Ozone will do that. Ozone-3, 4, you're on cannon detail, 5, 6, you're on missiles. Ozone-1 and 2 will stay back with Gungnir, over."
"Roger, solid copy on all. Target is in sight, its shields are confirmed disabled. Gungnir out."
Ryan tightened his grasp on his fighter's controls again, before pulling ahead of Gungnir, along with Ozone-3, 4, and 5. Switching to his M293s, he watched as Ozone-3 and 4 rushed forwards towards the batarian dreadnought, dipping below the enemy vessel's point defenses.
"Ozone-3 off safe. Guns, guns, guns."
"Dash 4, off safe. Guns, guns, guns."
The two initial bursts of 35mm rounds impacted upon the vessel, peppering its armor with hundreds of small explosions, some of which pierced into the ship, only to be stopped by the baffles in between the armor. Nevertheless, the two initial gun runs marked the spot for further attacks, weakening the armor in its place.
"Dash 5 inbound. Good tone, good tone. Fox three, fox three."
"Good hit, good hit."
Hawkins' two M293s blazed out of her Kestrel, before angling down towards the spot marked by the cannon fire. They impacted upon the vessel, creating a fiery explosion and further opening up the hole. It was now Ryan's turn, and he couldn't say if he was excited, or grim."
"Dash 6 inbound. Good tone. Fox three, fox three."
Ryan then pulled the trigger, sending two M293 Integrated Assault Missiles soaring towards their mark. With another explosion, the hole was ripped apart in the vessel's armor, creating a veritable hull breach and displacing oxygen from the vessel.
"Good hit, good hit. Gungnir is inbound, A23s armed and ready."
In a matter of seconds, the three B-63 Peregrine Bombers unleashed their payloads, one A23 Angled Assault Bomb each. The A23 was meant for precision strikes against vulnerable targets, and was designed to do large amounts of damage against enemy vessels, structures, or ground formations. It wouldn't destroy the batarian dreadnought, by any means, but it would certainly mark it with a glaring wound.
And wound the dreadnought it did, causing fiery ripples throughout the vessel and ripping an even larger hull breach open, burning many of the crew that weren't already spaced in the area, and sending many more flying into the expanse of space.
"Good hit, good hit. Target Lima is wounded, Target Lima is wounded. Mission accomplished, Gungnir is returning to Number Misfit. Thanks for the assist, Ozone."
"Copy, Gungnir. Ozone is outbound as well, returning to home. Ozone, we're at bingo fuel, avoid all confrontations, and leave any wounded bandits or bogeys to the interceptors. We're out."
With a sigh, Ryan angled his Kestrel back to the location of the RNS Number Misfit, watching silently as more and more bodies seemed to fall out of the batarian dreadnought. A few seconds later, a grouping of UER frigates and destroyers closed in on the severely wounded dreadnought, unleashing their own payloads into it, acting much like scavenging birds or animals in that they collectively tore the larger vessel into two, a pack of vultures feasting upon the carcass of a great and powerful predator.
It was only an hour later, with many more casualties on both sides, when another entire fleet warped into view, signaling the arrival of the UER 32nd Fleet, reinforcing Antioch. Minutes after the 32nd's arrival, the batarian-krogan fleet was effectively defeated, and just narrowly escaped through the relay, their tails between their legs.
The naval battle for the Ajax System was over, finished, leaving the remnants of the batarian-krogan ground forces stranded on Antioch, to be slowly picked apart and eradicated by the colony's garrison. And yet, the UER was not without its wounds—the 15th Fleet had lost nearly 67% of their forces, the mighty behemoth of the UER Navy reduced to a wounded warrior. Scores of young men and women, some of the most talented in their fields, were dead, the fires of their lives extinguished by the opening of the UER's entrance into another faction's war.
Their deaths would be paid for, yes, and in blood, throughout the rest of the war. The UER was committed, and they would not go silently.
(1): Not the traditional "Barrel Roll" as popularized by Star Fox, which is in actuality an aileron roll. No, the actual barrel roll.
CODEX:
Command: The UER military is divided into several sections of command structures, all tasked with different things.
HIGHCOM: UER High Command, or HIGHCOM, is the highest operational command of the United Earth Republic, and is ultimately in charge of all personnel, equipment, and facilities used by the military. It is based on Arcturus Station,
NAVCOM: UER Naval Command, or NAVCOM, is the section of operational command in charge of naval personnel, structure, and organization, and is also in charge of the UER Air Force. It is based on Fenix, the largest of the UER's Military Strongholds.
EXPECOM: UER Expeditionary Command, or EXPECOM, is the section of operational command in charge of the UER Marine Corps, and all expeditionary maneuvers. It is based on Fenix.
CENTCOM: UER Central Ground Command, or CENTCOM, is the section of operational command in charge of the UER Army, and deals with all things planet-side, especially on military colonies and outposts. It is based on Earth.
LOGCOM: UER Logistics Command, or LOGCOM, is in charge of logistics, trade protection, and the movement of troops from theatre to theatre. It organizes military units, and prepares Quick Response Forces. While an overarching structure, it is technically under HIGHCOM, NAVCOM, EXPECOM, and CENTCOM. It is based on Arcturus Station and Fenix.
SPECWARCOM: UER Special Warfare command, or SPECWARCOM, is the operational command in charge of all UER Special Forces. It organizes special operations and units, and maintains detailed links with other operational commands. It has no home "base," as it remains secretive and roving.
R72 Enhanced Marksman's Rifle
(Republic-72 EMR)
Muzzle Velocity: 2900 meters per second.
Uses MA-49 Rounds.
RoF: 320 RPM
Capacity: 20 Rounds, four to eight magazines.
Force: 5106.73 ft-lbf
Standard Issue Designated Marksman's Rifle
F-41 Kestrel S/ASF
18.5 meters long
The UER and RAF's main, favored Space/Air Superiority Fighter. Top of the line, state of the art, and a nightmare for enemy pilots.
Primary: L26 35mm Rotary Gauss Cannon
Secondary: M412 Multi-Purpose Missiles (M-PM) (4 pods, 8 missiles)
Tertiary: M293 Integrated Assault Missile (IAM) (6 missiles)
Crew: 1—Pilot
Tier 1AV Shields
B-63 Peregrine Bomber
20 meters long
The UER and RAF's general-purpose bomber, armed with a heavy railcannon and multiple payloads, ready to assist in the assault of land, naval, orbital, or cosmic targets.
Anti-Starfighter: L75 75mm Heavy Repeating Railcannon
Payload 1—Precision: A23 Angled-Assault Bomb
Payload 2—Carpet: A49 Heavy-Ordinance Bomb
Crew: 3 or 4, Pilot, Bomber, Technician
Tier 1AV Shields
Author's Notes:
Hope you enjoyed the fifth chapter of TIOM. I know there's been a lot of gratuitous violence lately, but, be assured, it is all for a reason. The next few chapters will tone down on the action, and focus more on the political, societal, and personal aspects, as well as some…introductions, to the infamous Office of Republic Intelligence…
Individual Replies:
.wanderlust: Detailed response in a PM, won't post it here.
general-joseph-dickson: Oh, don't you worry, we'll be seeing a lot of Shepard in the coming chapters…
magnusvictor: Hey man, the Republic can commandeer whatever tanks we want! Besides, we never liked those red and black bricks they call Prowlers..
SeventhSon77: Yeah, we'll be seeing how the alliance formed. No worries there.
Don't forget to review, guys! I really do appreciate each and every single one of them, especially the critical ones.