Sword and Shield
Chapter 5: Advance to Contact
Jump-off 1. n. The commencement of a race or of a planned military attack. 2.n. A jumping contest at a horse show, especially a final or tie-breaking round.
25 March 2000, 09:45 hrs.
Chofu, Suburbs of Tokyo, Japan
Room 404, Mansion K Apartments
Sousuke leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes as the sound of the shower running filled the apartment. He cursed his exceptional hearing as the sound of Kaname's pajamas hitting the floor bounced around in his mind bringing forth images that made his face flush and sweat bead on his forehead.
Sighing slowly he turned on the television and flipped through the channels to that of an English speaking news program: CNN International. Being the daughter of a United Nations diplomat, it's presence on her channel listing wasn't all that surprising.
"This is Elliot Garrot at the White House…"
Sousuke frowned as he stared at the screen, this wasn't the regular programming for the hour and he watched the crawl as the anchor, Wolf Blitzer turned toward a pair of panelists. "A continuous meeting of the joint chiefs at the white house, no meeting or word of any impending action from the United Nations, and our Anchorage affiliate KMGH in Alaska is showing a total mobilization of the twenty-fifth division based there, tanks, arm slaves, and trucks moving along a road to the north. What exactly is going on?"
Lou Dobbs slowly shook his head. "We saw this earlier this year shortly before the nuclear detonation on Merida Island, Wolf."
"He's right, throughout the last year we've seen military deployments surge across the board. We've seen footage of large scale combat taking place multiple times in the South Pacific including American military units and no official word from the white house." John King said as he responded. "We've repeatedly been stonewalled when questioned about it."
"I think what's most interesting is that the Soviets have not responded at all to this mobilization. I would have thought that a massive mobilization just across the Bering Strait from their border would at least deserve comment." Lou Dobbs shook his head.
Sousuke felt his stomach knot as he listened in. A mobilization in Alaska, allusions to the war on Amalgam…
"We're now going to Jamie McIntyre at the Pentagon."
"Thanks Wolf." The gaunt face of the senior pentagon correspondent appeared on the screen wearing a confused expression. "Multiple sources within the Pentagon that wish to remain unnamed report that this operation is going against and I quote: 'The International Mercenary Organization known as Mithril'. I have to say they sounded rather distressed about it."
Sousuke's heart pounded in his chest as he watched the screen. Mithril. They're attacking Mithril? He swallowed and the phone rang. Without looking he picked it up and lifted the receiver to his ear.
"Mushi mushi?" He asked quietly.
Mao's voice filled the line. "I take it you just heard."
25 March 2000, 09:48 hrs.
Naha Airport, Naha, Okinawa
Passenger Terminal
"This is bullshit!" Kurz yelled as he watched the television screen. Mao shook her head as she held her cell-phone to her ear.
"Affirmative." Sousuke's voice echoed in her ear and Mao sighed. "Has there been any word from command?"
"Not yet, if I had to guess Tessa and Admiral Borda are scrambling to get out of the country at the moment." Melissa ran a hand through her hair and stared at the screen. "What's worse is that Sarah Miller, Closeau, and Al are on their way to the Alaska base."
"Not good." Sousuke stated plainly.
"Just sit tight for now and keep an ear out. Not much either of us can do at the moment." Mao said as she glanced at Kurz cursing in his native German at the monitor.
"Understood, Uruz 7 out." With that Melissa closed the phone and sighed, leaning against her bag. "I hope they don't tell the Japanese to put us on a no fly list or something."
"Can you believe this?" Kurz asked as he pointed at the screen while a camera followed trucks and Bradley Infantry Fighting Vehicles down a snow covered road. "We save the fucking world and this is the thanks we get?"
Melissa scowled and her fingers itched with the need to hold a cigarette. "Tell me about it, God I hope Tessa and the Admiral are alright."
"You don't think they got caught over there, do you?" Kurz asked. "Those two are too smart for that."
"Probably not, but it doesn't mean I don't worry."
25 March 2000, 10:05 hrs.
Chofu, Suburbs of Tokyo, Japan
Room 404, Mansion K Apartments
Kaname stepped out of the bathroom clad in a light blue spring dress and smiled as she saw Sousuke sitting on the couch, his eyes glued to the television. Warmth spread throughout her body as she stared at him. He's home… he's back… and he's mine.
Then she saw the pale expression on his face and the worried set of his jaw, and her good mood shattered in an instant. "Sousuke?"
"Mao called." He ran a hand over his jaw and sighed. "After she heard the news…"
"What news?" Kaname asked.
"The United States… is launching an attack on the remains of Mithril." His hands turned to fists and he slammed them into the couch in frustration. "And there isn't a damn thing I can do about it."
"What?" Kaname gasped as she caught sight of the television screen and the lines of tanks and armored vehicles driving along a snow covered road. She felt unsteady and the room started to spin. Of all the potential enemies, the potential foes that could come after her, the one she had never considered was that of the United States.
"Kaname!" Sousuke scrambled from the couch and caught her as she stumbled.
"Why would they?" Her voice was quiet and she stared at the screen. "I lived in the US for years, they're not bad people. Why would they?"
"I don't know." Sousuke held her for the moment and glanced back at the television. "I don't understand it either much of Mithril's leadership is American. They have friends in their command structure."
Kaname nodded slowly. "We must be why."
"Kaname?"
"Think about it Sousuke, look at all the trouble just a couple whispered caused with Amalgam. We're a threat and Mithril is partly dedicated to protecting us." She shook her head and glanced down at the couch. "So in order to deal with us, they have to deal with Mithril."
Sousuke scowled and tightened his grip on her. "But the whispers stopped."
"For now, no one knows if it's permanent and they're not willing to risk taking a chance on that." Kaname sighed. "I understand politics all too well. It wasn't easy becoming the Vice President of the Student Council."
"We must be extra careful then." Sousuke ran a hand along her arm affectionately. "I won't let them lay a finger on you."
"Thank you." Kaname said and smiled.
24 March 2000, 15:33 hrs. (Aleutian time)
Bering Strait, International Waters
Approximately 100 km from American Airspace
The roar of the Tu-95 Bear's turboprops echoed in the cockpit as they leveled off over the Bering Strait. The plane was an ancient design with a lineage in its design that dated back to the Tupolev Tu-2, the Soviet copy of the B-29 Superfortress, the plane that dropped the bombs over Nagasaki and Hiroshima. A Tu-95 Bear had dropped the largest nuclear bomb ever tested long before the test ban treaties had been signed.
This one's bomb bay wasn't empty but instead of bombs huge drums of fuel lay within its hold.
In the back seats the crew sat over the dozens of instruments and displays watching the electronic chatter of the American army on the move. The mobilization was an opportunity for the soviets to watch, listen, and learn as the American military geared up for the operation, hence the bomber's presence at the edge of American airspace.
"Comrade Lieutenant, the Americans don't even seem to care that we're here. I've had radar hits from an E-3 Awacs for over an hour and nothing has shown up." The radar intercept officer reported from his post behind the pilot.
"An Il-76M will be on station in two more hours, so we'll have a complete radar record of what happens as well comrade. I bet they see this as a grand opportunity to learn. Nothing like this has happened before." The pilot adjusted his facemask as he checked the map on his knee and glanced out at the dark sky. "Those Mithril bastards are in for one hell of a fight. They bombed a facility back at base two years back. It's about time someone took them on."
"Da comrade, but I don't want to think about fighting them. They say they've got technology ten years in advanced of what even the Americans have. Their leaders must be mad." The radar intercept officer said.
"Maybe comrade, but Mithril isn't that big is it? The Americans are serious. Just ask the radio intercept officer how many transmitters he's picked up."
24 March 2000, 17:03 hrs.
Mithril Base, State of Alaska, United States
Av-8b Harrier Squadron Dispersal Office
Lieutenant Colonel Albus Doran watched the ordnance officer load equipment onto his AV8b Super Harrier II Plus. Mithril had spared no expense with ordnance purchasing the best weapon systems it could lay its hands on. On the outboard pylons AIM-132 ASRAAMs were mounted, and while the weapons lacked the off-bore-sight capability of the AA-11 Archer missile of the soviets or the AIM-9X Sidewinder that the Americans had just adopted, they had nearly double the range. Moving inboard from the tips a pair of hydra rocket pods each held seven rockets. Next were a pair of AIM-120C AMRAAM missiles identical to those that would be carried by the F-15s they were up against and finally the last two pylons held AGM-65 Maverick Missiles for use against the tanks they were certain were coming.
It was a multi-role multi-purpose load out that would enable them to swiftly switch from the air superiority to the close air support role without loading heavy ordnance like bombs that would hinder the planes in the close in dogfights. Choosing load outs for the harriers was an art form into itself with the different take off weights each mode of operation allowed. VTOL takeoffs needed a light load, and that had to be factored in incase the Americans chose to post hole the runway with bombs.
Behind him, the squadron pilots gathered, glancing at each other nervously. Whispered comments between them revealed their fear and worries: "I can't believe this is happening, the US?" "Bloody yanks, I never wanted to fight the damn Americans." "At least I'll be fighting in a harrier instead of the damn Yak I was trained on." "Damn, I probably flew against these guys in Red Flag, way back when."
"I know you have concerns about this operation. However, remember, we did not choose this fight but they chose to engage us. For most of our careers, we nation states we once swore oaths to protect. We're on the defensive. We do not have the luxury of dropping our load in an empty field to assuage our conscience, they're attacking and once that first missile, that first bullet is loosed I expect each of you to do your job." The Lt. Col. took a deep breath and glanced around the hangar. "Second flight, you're up on CAP in thirty minutes, third flight is on the scramble pad and headquarters flight will sortie after you. Keep your wing-mate close and remember to use the ECS. America has ECCS but it's doubtful that the equipment has filtered down to line units like what we're facing. It'll keep you off radar and definitely save your ass when we're in visual range. I'll get you all a pint of bitter when this is over, so good luck and come home."
24 March 2000, 17:39 hrs.
300 km north-west of Anchorage, State of Alaska, United States
5th Squadron, 1st Cavalry Regiment, 1st Brigade Combat Team, 25th Infantry Division
Specialist David Johnson rubbed his hands together as he rode in the cab of a vehicle transport. Ahead, truck after truck lined the road loaded down with arm slaves, tanks, and other vehicles. Beside him, the lance corporal that drove the truck swore as a Humvee marked with a set of stars sped by alongside the road.
"There went the fucking general!" He shook his head and glanced at David. "Can you believe this shit, I was at NTC last time I saw shit like this, and that's cause that place is always at fucking war." He chewed gum as he spoke and sighed. "Guns, ASes, and more god damn ground pounders then I've seen in my damn life on this road, and its crappy conditions to boot."
"Fighting fucking Mithril, this is going to be one fucking huge mess." David sighed as he glanced out the rear at his assigned Arm Slave. "I'm going to need a fucking drink after this is over."
"Amen to that brother." The lance corporal said as he saw a camera crew alongside the road. "Look, we're on the news."
"Oh fuck." David said as he watched the camera pass by. "They've got to know we're coming now."
"David, man, calm down. You get in that thing with the case of the shakes and you'll miss every target. You still got the bilateral at three-point-five? How the fuck do you move without kicking yourself in your face with a setup right that?"
"Little steps." David said. "They're given us the full load out too, managed to convince them to equip a boxer. If those people have choppers, I want to give them a face full of buckshot. Turn it into a bird hunt."
"Shit, man, that oversized shotgun? You could probably take out a tank with that." The corporal shook his head and glanced out the back. "You got full appliqué and ERA on it too? Doesn't that slow you down?"
"Hell yes, but the damn M9s they got are agile fuckers. At least armored up I might survive a hit or two." David shook his head. "Third gen arm slaves, damn I wish we had a couple of those XM9s for this."
"That's the shit, hell even the Special Forces boys don't have those yet. Guess nobody thought we'd fight anything but a Savage for the next couple years." The lance corporal shrugged. "Hell these Mithril guys have got ECS. They might be watching us right now."
"Fuck!" David said.
"No shit, we're in for some fight at the end of this damn road." The lance corporal shrugged and glanced back at the Arm Slave in back. "You just get back in one piece. I don't feel like training up some other jerk-ass as my partner in crime."
"I'll do it, even if it'll be damn hard." David answered. "Fuck Benny, you've taken great care of my crate since I got here."
"Damn right, she's my baby. You'd better bring her back! I don't want to deal with breaking in a new one either."
24 March 2000, 22:09 hrs.
Washington, District of Columbia, United States
White House Situation Room
General John A. Gordon glanced at his watch as he leaned back in a chair in the situation room. A live satellite feed dominated the left side of the room showing a flight of four Av8b Harriers rolling down the runway. Around the edge of the field, warm bodies showed brightly in the infrared as squads of men dug impromptu defenses. A Bradley Infantry Fighting Vehicle dug into the ground alongside each squad and six M9 Gernsbacks sat just outside of one hangar. Personnel scurried over each unit as armaments were driven out of the hangar and issued to each of the individual units.
"They know we're coming." Sandy observed as he watched the screen. "Not that it's a surprise at all."
The General nodded. "We were never going to achieve surprise going against Mithril. Though I am surprised, their name slipped into then news so quickly. The press secretary is going to take hell next time he's in front of the camera." He shrugged. "Then again, that's his job."
"How long till they're at their jump-off?" Sandy asked as he glanced at the other wall where feeds from dozens of command centers and units appeared.
"Five hours about. The Russians are scrambling everything they can to watch this." Gordon shrugged. "I need some coffee, strong coffee."
"You're not worried about that?"
"I am, but we don't have the resources to keep them away and engage Mithril at the same time." Gordon sighed. "Plus we might want to ask for a copy of the information… this is going to be rough."
"I know, I'm not sure the president knows just how rough it could get. I showed him the casualty estimate, but it is just a wild ass guess. So much depends on how they're equipped. Do they have ECS, are the harriers radar equipped or not, will their troops stand and fight or run away?" Sandy shook his head. "We've never even war-gamed fighting an adversary that is that far ahead of us technologically. Most of the projections are based on fighting the OPFOR at the NTC."
Gordon stopped and frowned. "You know simulated casualties always exceed actual ones by like a factor of forty or fifty to one?"
"I know, but the projections say we could have a thousand casualties or more." He shook his head. "The American people do not like to have coffins come home."
General Gordon sighed. "Then it's a good thing the President isn't running for reelection."
24 March 2000, 21:51 hrs.
Elmendorf Air Base, State of Alaska, United States
19th Fighter Squadron, 3rd Wing, 11th Air Force
Lt. Colonel Tod D. Wolters stood in front of his squadron's pilots. Outside the small building that served as the squadron's dispersal, center the dozens of servicemen swarmed over the twelve F-15C Eagles readying them for combat. AIM-120 AMRAAMs and AIM-9X Sidewinders were loaded and fuel tanks topped off.
"Our mission will be BARCAP. We are to seize control of the airspace over the objective and hold it against all opposition. Intelligence has no indication of SAMs beside the handheld variety being present near the objective. Opposition will compose of Av8b Super Harriers and XF-35 Joint Strike Fighters. It is currently unknown if the Super Harriers are radar equipped or not. Since this is Mithril its possible all hostiles are ECS equipped. We may also suffer opposition from RAH-66 Comanche's equipped with stingers and other air-to-air missiles. Average flight time from takeoff to contact is expected to be no more than one hour."
The pilots nodded one after another-remembering field exercises they had participated in against the Marines and the difficulty of engaging harriers. Still, the colonel decided to stress the point.
"The aircraft the enemy is using are amongst the most maneuverable craft in the world. Thanks to the thrust vectoring technology used in both craft, they can be on your ass inside of one turn. Do not continue to engage if you find yourself in a turning fight. Throttle up and get out of the circle then circle around and come back. We have a speed advantage and if the harriers are not radar equipped, we will have a range advantage. Mithril uses mostly American technology so you can use your experiences against the marines in exercises as a point of reference. However ECS changes the game considerably. Watch your wingman's ass and keep it clear. ECS is good against radar and visual but isn't that effective against infrared, so listen to your sidewinders tone, they may seem someone you don't. Wheels up will be in four hours."
25 March 2000, 23:55 hrs.
Pacific Ocean
Qantas Flight 1028
Tessa let out a sigh of relief as glanced out the window at the black night. The plane was crowded, but the two of them seemed to be just another pair of passengers, the FBI hadn't put images out of them for everyone to see, at least not yet.
"Uncle Jerry." She said. "What now?"
"As I said, I had contingency plans in place. We will have to fall back onto those plans." He leaned back and glanced at the inflight movie playing on the monitors. "Much depends on whether America chooses to pursue us after this."
Tessa nodded slowly. "What will happen after the battle? It will be quite tough on the Americans. What about all those people on the base?"
"That depends on how the Americans react to the bloody nose they're likely to receive." Jerome sighed. "As for the people on the base…" He sighed. "Those that surrender will likely be treated well, and if the American command reacts how I believe it will they may be offered a job as advisers to their victorious foes. Showing their skills is likely to be the thing that saves them, at a cost in American lives. How many Germans did we interview after the Second World War? How many German officers found themselves teaching tank warfare to the victorious Russians? Both sides are professionals, and will acknowledge and respect the other. There will be casualties, but if they were just arrested in mass their futures would be bleaker."
Tessa slowly nodded. "I am worried about Sarah though."
25 March 2000, 01:10 hrs.
3 km west of the Mithril Base, State of Alaska, United States
Gulfstream G. IV Number Thirteen
Closeau had slept like a baby throughout the flight while Sarah had whisked Al back into the rearmost sections of the cabin and had chatted with the AI for hours.
"I can't believe you actually activated the Lambda Driver by yourself, let alone saved Sergeant Sagara from those nuclear warheads." Sarah grinned. "I'll have to see about fitting you with your own Lambda Driver in the ARX-9."
"I was told that would be unlikely, Mithril is in shambles and there isn't much left of the organization to produce such a vehicle." Al's laconic voice irritated Sousuke but Sarah liked the measured tone. It helped her focus.
"Maybe, then I'll put you in my car next time!" She laughed as she glanced out the window and sighed. "I'm going to sleep for days after this."
"I certainly hope not, such an extended rest would require you to be almost comatose." Al stated blandly.
The plane jerked as it touched down and she sighed. "Back again, better grab the winter coat and everything. It's really cold." She picked up her fur lined artic coat and pulled it on followed by a heavy muffler and thick wool mittens. As she was finishing the door opened and the pilot swallowed once as he glanced outside. "Uh, Miss Miller?"
"What is it?" She asked as she ran forward with Al. "Did some—"
Two armed guards stood beside the door waiting for her along with the general in charge. She swallowed and glanced around. "General?"
"Miss Miller, I'm afraid you've come at a bad time, these two gentlemen will escort you to the emergency bunker. I must ask you to stay there until the crisis has ended."
Sarah blinked. "What's going on?"
"The Americans are going to attack in the next few hours." He stated grimly. "Please go with them, it's for your own safety."
Sarah wilted and glanced down at the snow on the tarmac. Damn it all!
25 March 2000, 01:30 hrs.
50 km south of the Mithril Base, State of Alaska, United States
5th Squadron, 1st Cavalry Regiment, 1st Brigade Combat Team, 25th Infantry Division
"Alright listen up! 1st Cavalry!" The Major paced in front of the formation. He wore a scowl that made each man cringe as his gaze passed over them.
"Our mission is to secure the flanks of the advance. The terrain up to the airfield itself is too rough for conventional vehicles to easily pass, so it falls to you Arm Slave drivers. Infantry will deploy to support you from the Bradleys on the road once you are engaged, but you should not become dependent on their assistance. Keep in mind that you're facing some of the best AS pilots in the world, so don't take chances. Keep your heads and watch your teammates. Hostiles are estimated at being less than platoon strength in terms of ASes, and only perhaps around two or three companies of infantry. Mithril likes to specialize in air warfare and precision strikes with elite teams, and that, is their weakness. Faced by a combined arms onslaught they will crumble. So saddle up and kick ass, your team leads have your individual assignments. That is all."
Specialist David Johnson nodded once as he walked to his Arm Slave and nodded to Benny. "Here we go."
"Fuck yeah." The man said. "Take care out there."
He nodded and picked up the helmet, pulling it down over his head quickly. "I'll bring you back the scalps."
"Go on, get. You'll make me all morbid if you stick around." The man gestured to the Arm Slave.
"I'm going." He clambered up the handholds and slid into the cockpit. After a moment, the hatch closed around him and the display flickered to life.
"Confirm Identification."
"Specialist David Johnson, J-9134B."
"Acknowledge, gas-turbine initiating, bilateral angle set at 3.5, master mode 6 engaged, tactical data-link received. Master suit adjustment complete, movement release in ten seconds."
David slipped his arms through the drive systems and checked his legs making sure the system was fully linked then relaxed.
"David, we've got forward guard. You insist on bringing along that boxer?" His team leader, Captain George Ahlers asked through the communication system.
"I did sir." He sighed. "Ice Dragoon Nine ready."
"Alright Ice Dragoons, we've got a bunch of dwarves to beat to a pulp." One of the men joked across the radio. It had to be Jennings. He was the sort to know where the damn name came from.
"Secure comms, patch into the local company radio net for coordination."
David stood, feeling his body move up as the mech stood, an Arm Slave pilot was subjected to the sort of G-forces that a fighter pilot would endure but in wildly different directions, running, falling, jumping… all resulted in significant g-loads on the pilot.
He swallowed and chambered a round in the Otto/Melala "Boxer" shot cannon as he finished the last pre-combat checks.
"All units this is command. Advance to contact. Artic Wolves forward!"
25 March 2000, 20:30 hrs.
Chofu, Suburbs of Tokyo, Japan
Apartment 404, Mansion K Apartments
Sousuke leaned against the balcony rail and stared off into distance as a rumble of thunder washed over him. Inside the apartment was dark save for the light of the television set, still tuned to CNN International. Correspondents had been dispatched but had yet to arrive, and the news organization had been digging hard to find out what this mercenary group called Mithril actually was. Now that the questions were being asked about the organization in the open he felt strange. At some level he was relieved that the veil of secrecy had fallen and he could tell his friends something about the group.
On another front it felt like having the skeletons in his closet brought out before an unsympathetic crowd. Kaname had said the Americans would try to spin them into the villains, and she was right. Little reference to the good work the organization had done was made known, but word of the technology they possessed was slowly being leaked. The companies that had sold them the planes, tanks, arm slaves, and other weapons of war were desperately trying to defend their actions.
And no word had come from Alaska. He could feel it though, a sense of a battle just over the horizon about to be joined. Across at the Tiger Maison apartments he saw Wraith hunched behind an air conditioning unit.
I wonder if she knows. To quote Lieutenant Mao, this sucks. It really fucking sucks.
"Sousuke?" Kaname stood at the doorway already clad in her pajamas.
"It's about to start." He said quietly.
"I know."
"There's nothing I can do."
"I know."
"I hate this."
Kaname squeezed his shoulder and pulled him away from the balcony. "Come inside, you'll catch cold out here."
"Alright." Sousuke sighed and let him pull her through the door. He knew sleep wouldn't come, not till word of the battle's end arrived.
25 March 2000, 02:36 hrs.
50 km south of the Mithril Base, State of Alaska, United States
19th Fighter Squadron, 3rd Wing, 11th Air Force
The aurora borealis danced overhead, lighting up the night and exposing the sun caped peaks that jutted up through the cloud layer. Lt. Colonel Tod D. Wolters watched the display through the clear glass of his cockpit canopy and glanced down at the display between his knees that registered the
"Eagle Eye to squadron leader: be advised we have no hostiles on our scope. Enemy is likely under ECS over."
"Acknowledged Eagle Eye." Lt. Colonel Tod D. Wolters pulled the visor over his eyes and scowled as he adjusted the night vision scope. "Squadron, we're going in dark. Hostiles are under ECS and bogey dope has nothing. Be prepared for close contact."
"Acknowledged lead."
Wolters frowned as he looked down over the Alaskan landscape and saw the tail of the twenty-fifth division sneaking through the mountains along a single road. In the distance, the dull grey of the tarmac appeared and he could see tanks and artillery beginning the advance. His eyes continued scanning the area searching for opposition.
"Bandits, six o'clock low!" His wing-mate yelled.
Then his threat-warning receiver blared a warning. "Missile Inbound, drop flares!"
25 March 2000, 02:37 hrs.
40 km south of the Mithril Base, State of Alaska, United States
Valkyrie Squadron, Mithril Base – Alaska Air Defense Detachment
"Fox two!" Albus Doran echoed in his radio as he looked through the heads up display mounted to his hud and watched the AIM-132 ASRAAM roar off into the night. Flares lit up the darkness as the American formation came apart, stunned by the sudden attack from the six o'clock low position. A flash lit up the night and a fireball followed suite as the F-15C Eagle that had appeared in his sights spun down flaming.
"Splash one." He called out.
"Valkyrie three, Fox two!" Another pilot called out before the radio was filled with voices as his whole unit opened up.
"Guns!" Another voice called before bright yellow tracers lit up the night as one of the pilots let loose with the GAU-12 cannon slung under the belly of the Av-8b. One of the F-15Cs burst into flame as the airframe was perforated by the sudden barrage of 25mm projectiles.
The other hostiles lit their afterburners and stood on their tails climbing and looping, a high thrust and high G maneuver that the slower and heavier Harriers couldn't hope to match.
Shaking his head Albus rolled the plane and hit the ECS systems. Instantly the craft disappeared from radar and eyes as he lowered the nose and pointed toward the convoy. With a flick of his thumb he switched to Hydra rockets.
The rough skirmish line the American troops advanced in suddenly was rained upon by fourteen high explosive rockets as he let loose a salvo. Gritting his teeth he punched the thrust vector to fifty degrees and yanked up on the stick pulling the heavy fighter out just bare meters above the Americans. Tracers lit up the sky behind him as the soldiers on the ground tried to beat down the invisible attacker.
"Nice one lead." Valkyrie two called out, her Russian accent echoing through the radio waves. He glanced over his shoulder and the helmet mounted display highlighted her position, directly slotted in on his wing as if glued in place despite the both of them now running in ECS.
"Two is lead." He called out and barrel rolled letting her take point. "Lydia, after this we'll have to have a bottle."
"Make it vodka and I'll chew through the whole American air force for you." She led them in a tight turn as the F-15Cs circled above hunting for targets. "Range is eleven kilometers and dropping. I have tone."
Albus smiled to himself as the cool automatic radio calls from his wingmate washed over his ears. The woman could have worked as an instructor with her skills and innate calm.
"Fox two!"
A missile flashed from her invisible fighter and raced upward to smash into an F-15 that broke into a wide turn leaving a string of flares in its wake.
"Da!" The sudden cry made Albus smile.
"Kill confirmed Lydia! That was your fifth? Congratulations"
"Da, and thank you." She pulled tight past a mountain face.
"Welcome, lead to Valkyries. Check in."
"We're all here sir!" One of the American voices called back. "Damn I think we got four or five of the Eagles."
25 March 2000, 02:38 hrs.
10 km south of the Mithril Base, State of Alaska, United States
Mannaz Company, Mithril Base – Alaska Ground Defense Detachment
"Mannaz Five to command, have visual on twelve Bushnells in a screening pattern in the forest in front. The road is full of Bradleys and there is a platoon of Abrams at the lead." Sergeant Major Jessica York called out from her foxhole overlooking the main road. Beside her Specialist Robert Daniels knelt next to a TOW Launcher. "Range is now fifteen hundred."
Roberts scowled as he looked through the sites, his eye almost welded to the eyepiece with frost. Beside him Jessica flicked the safety to off on her M4 ACOG rifle and sighed.
"They better give the fire command soon." He muttered.
A dull whine rose behind them and Jessica glanced behind her, blinking through the night vision goggles she wore.
"Razgriz squadron in position." The radio whispered in her ear as she scowled at the sound. It was the familiar roar of a turbofan engine.
"Iwaz in position."
"Sigel in position." She crinkled her nose at the distinct smell of ozone and suddenly felt her eyes widen before dropping back and turning back to the front, a smile now on her face.
The radio fell silent for a moment.
"All units, commence operation. You are weapons free, I repeat weapons free."
Behind her a flight of four Harrier jump jets disengaged their ECS and appeared just behind the ridge. At once the group let loose with a volley of rockets that rained down upon the column of Infantry fighting vehicles. Seconds later the black shapes of eighteen RAH-66 Comanche's appeared behind the formation, spewing cannon fire and volleys of Hellfire missiles that immolated rearmost elements. An M6 Bushnell burst into flame as a Hellfire slammed down into its head and detonated. M9 Gernsbacks shimmered into existence at the ridgeline and opened fire filling the valley before them with 40mm and 57mm cannon rounds. Air-bursting shells from a Boxer shot cannon tore amongst the infantry as they scrambled out of their vehicles to deploy and engage.
"Fuck me." Daniel stated before glancing back through the eyepiece and pulling the trigger on his tow. Concentrating he guided the flare of the missile into the gun mantlet of an Abrams tank. The blast echoed across the valley as he ejected the spent tube and picked up his M4 ACOG and lifted it to his shoulder.
"Now that is what I'm talking about!" Jessica called out.
25 March 2000, 06:39 hrs.
Washington, District of Columbia, United States
White House Situation Room
Sandy folded his hands and leaned over the desk watching the display as the first flash of gunfire lanced between the two forces. The Joint Chiefs stood watching as the engagement advanced and a single word was muttered throughout the room to describe what had happened.
"Contact."