Of Aviation and Exfiltration
Skies over Unknown Planet, Korinth Prior System
1120 Shipboard Time, Estimated Local time 1720 TST
"Blanks" flew through the sky in his Zero ZRO-114 Light Aerospace Fighter, followed closely by his wingman, "Magnet". Today, they were Wildling Flight, scrambled to provide air cover for the retreating UNSC forces so they could make it back to their transport craft. With the assistance of a pair of Trident TRN-3Tb fighters flown by Birdie and Pitch to fly the ground attack profile as Spear Flight, Blanks was confident that he'd be coming back home at the end of the day.
Blanks scanned the ground for friendly vehicles and focused in on muzzle flashes he saw on the ground. "Tally ho, friendly tank with infantry support," he called out as he began his turn in for an attack run. He could see the UNSC tank as he entered a dive, the quad-tracked vehicle under fire by more pus-like abominations.
"Copy visual," Magnet confirmed as she followed him in. Together they loosed a pair of volleys from their LRM-10 launchers and watched with satisfaction as the missiles bloomed in fiery flowers amongst the barb spitting, bat-like fliers that were hounding the friendly tank.
"Not a Scorpion tank," Blanks noted as he began his climb out from his attack run. "Two barrels- SHIT!" He rolled his fighter abruptly as a dark green cloud of something flew past his right wing. "AAA warning! Bio-Flak! Watch out, Magnet."
"I'm clear," she responded. "Shot came from that fleshy-looking pillar thing on the ridge." Blanks looked back at the ridge and saw a cone-shaped pillar of flesh that looked like a small volcano on top of the ridge as it contracted briefly and then spat another cloud of whatever that crap was into the air at them, even though they were well beyond the range where it stood even a chance of hitting them.
Blanks grimaced. He hated how much this crap looked like rotten flesh, whether it was the living anti-air, the critters, even the ground wasn't spared from whatever this was. "Wildling to Spear, 3-A call. Fleshy thing on the rock pillar ridge is some sorta living launcher. Grid 27E. Take it down for us will ya?"
"Spear copies strike call," his radio squawked in his ear. "Rolling into engagement profile now." A three second pause, then the radio came to life again. "Stab, Stab, Stab." Blanks looked down over his shoulder to see the strike run from Spear Flight. The brilliant white tracer beams(1) of Spear Flight's lasers connected the launcher to the incoming Trident fighters. As the beams vanished, Blanks spotted the exhaust plumes of Spear Flight streaking back up into the skies above the field. The fleshy substance boiled into vapor under the pulse lasers of the Tridents and a cloud of burnt and burning material spewed out of the new holes in the side of the launcher cone as it deflated, collapsing in upon itself.
"Good effect on target, that one's collapsing like a busted bounce house," he called to Spear Flight as he and Magnet reformed on each other's wings. "Hey, Magnet, I see a cluster of those launchers around what looks like a den of some sort. Grid 26F."
"I see it," Magnet answered him absently. "Bandit Call, I see what looks like more of those flier swarms coming out of that. We'll need to clear away the rest of those launchers though."
"Call for ground support?" Blanks suggested.
"Maybe," Magnet paused to think it over. "I count five launchers in that little valley, along with two more on the ridge at the northeastern edge of that same valley. 25F/G"
"Yeah, definitely gonna call in for vehicles. Artillery's out of range or probably obstructed by that mountain ridge, and friendlies are probably too close for orbital support fire. Going to 124.15 to call in friendly ground." Blanks flipped the selector switch over to the UNSC support controller's frequency and depressed the mic toggle again. "Wildling 1 calling Boxcar, got a target of opportunity for you. Possible flier den surrounded by bio-artillery in grid 26F. Six structures total. Requesting Armored support to push in groundside in coordination with airstrikes to clear the way for Alpha to evac. How copy?"
"Boxcar copies, five-by-five," the UNSC radio operator answered. "Hold one, finding available units."
Blanks and Magnet completed a full orbit of the target area before Boxcar came back on the air. "Wildling, this is Boxcar. I've directed Mamba Patrol to coordinate their push with you. They're on 124.25. Good hunting."
"124.25, copy. Wildling out." Blanks took a moment to punch in the new frequency. "Wildling 1 to Mamba, how copy?"
"Mamba copies," the voice answering the radio was clipped, and almost sounded distracted. "Estimated time to target area, 6 minutes. Can you strike from south to north?"
"Negative, Mamba," Blanks replied, "that strike path brings us too close to additional bio-artillery. We can strike from 160 to 340, and make it out unimpeded. Holding over grid 32G until you're ready to push."
"Understood, Wildling. We'll make do. Mamba will call again when we're ready to push. Out."
Five minutes passed waiting in an orbit pattern for Mamba to call back, during which Wildling Flight were joined by Spear Flight as they discussed their plan for the strike run and picked out their initial and secondary targets. It was almost a relief to Blanks to hear the UNSC element come back up on frequency. "Mamba is pushing now. Wildling is GO for strike."
"Wildling acknowledges," Blanks confirmed as he rolled his Zero over into a dive. "Strike inbound." He brought the first launcher into his crosshairs and waited until the reticle illuminated red to signify that his weapons were in effective range before he squeezed the trigger on his control stick. "Wildling 1, Stab, Drive."
Two beams of white stabbed out from the nose of the Zero into the bio-launcher platform, accompanied by a cluster of missiles from the LRM-10 launcher buried in the fighter's nose. The same occurred behind Blanks' Zero from Magnet's ASF, as they completed their strike against the clustered targets. Behind their fighters, the two Tridents of Spear Flight struck the central den that the flying creatures were swarming out of in response to the attack. Each Trident carried a trio of medium pulse lasers, which scored deep gouges into the biological formation.
The bio-launchers spat futilely in retaliation, the four aircraft had already escaped the range of any return fire by escaping low along the valley that held Alpha platoon. The attacking UNSC vehicles spat their defiance into the biological bastions and proceeded to collapse the remaining structures with only a few hits in return from the launchers. The acidic blobs scored into the armor of the various tanks, but their job was successfully completed with only a single mission-killed vehicle that lost a track.
The soft British accent of the Spirit's AI came over the general frequency. "Evac flight path to Alpha is clear."
SLS Huntress
1132 shipboard time
Colonel Watkin looked up from the surface of the holotable as his eyes caught a series of white markers designating friendly fighters descending from the orbitals. "Identify those contacts," he requested. "Which ship dispatched fighters to cover our withdrawal efforts? I'd like to thank them."
"One moment," the radio officer spoke up, tapping controls on his console rapidly. "IDs matched. Voidseeker squadrons inbound. All eighteen of what we have among our fleet. System query says the Admiral authorized it, Sir."
The twelve Voidseeker Interceptors and their six, heavier, Voidseeker Striker brethren were the premier of the SLDF's automated drone fighter program placed into use with the Space Defence System. Each of their three M5F series Caspar drones could carry a squadron of six Voidseekers, and with all elements being drone systems, they made for a wonderful strike package with a heavy weapons loadout, while minimizing the risk to humans.
"Send a quick text burst to the admiral with my thanks," Jason told the officer at the comms station. "Then give the nearest drone controller an attack pattern from southwest to northeast along the infested corridor. Let's hit as much as we can in each pass, focused fire. Give the forces on the ground something to work with." He paused briefly as an idea came to him. "Also, ask the Spirit if they have any bombers they can deploy for additional strikes along the same corridor. The faster we clear these clusters, the better."
"Aye, Sir."
Minutes passed before then next time anyone spoke above the ambient chatter. "Ground armor is engaging the second den cluster now, Colonel. Grid 24G."
Colonel Watkin highlighted the grid in question and the holomap obligingly enlarged the area on the display. He watched as the UNSC ground armor pushed into the contested terrain from the west, having circled around to pick up Alpha's Grizzly tank, the tank vaguely reminiscent of the SLDF's venerable Alacorn Mk VI tank, if much leaner in appearance and armament. With the additional fighter and bomber support, it only took another five minutes to clear the second area.
"Area 2 is clear, signal evac for Bravo," Watkin told the comm officer, who nodded and quickly did so. "Captain, the final area at issue is grid 21J. Do we want to just air strike it?"
The Huntress' Captain frowned as she examined the narrow valley with only the flier den and three bio-artillery mounds. After a moment, she drew a line along the valley. "This is the only viable attack path, what with friendlies at the northern end of that valley," she said pensively. "That path leaves several launchers still in the area, but it should be thin enough for their transport to sneak through." She pressed the bridge call button on the table. "Helm, warm up the engines. I want us airborne and following after the Spirit as soon as her people are away from the surface."
"Aye, Ma'am. Helm acknowledges."
"Orders for Wildling and Spear, attack from NorthWest along the valley at 21J," Captain Remis declared. "Request same for Voidseekers."
"Comms reporting request approved," the lieutenant answered after a very short delay. "All aircraft moving into attack pattern now."
"Keep your ears open for traffic regarding that third transport," the Captain ordered. "I want to know as soon as they're leaving, so we can get moving."
"Aye, Ma'am."
A very tense three minutes passed before the lieutenant at the comms station relayed the news. "Evac Charlie has started its run. ETA 90 seconds."
The Captain nodded. "Helm, final takeoff checklist," she ordered. "I want us in the air as soon as our friends are ready to leave."
"Helm, aye."
"Command couches coming up," the Captain warned as an aside to the Colonel, and he quickly checked where he was standing to make sure he wasn't standing on one of the hatches the protectively padded seats recessed into. Once they had raised, both he and the Captain quickly strapped themselves into the seats in preparation for launch.
There was a short pause before the comms officer spoke up again. "Evac Charlie is under air attack, they're breaking off."
"Damnit," the Captain cursed. "Helm, get us in the air! We're going to grab Charlie ourselves. Comms, get on the horn, let 'em know we're coming."
With Charlie platoon
1141 Shipboard time
"Hot extraction incoming."
Corporal Peter Lawson looked up in shock at the SPARTAN-II super soldier who'd spoken, only differentiated by the "092" on his armor. Not five seconds later, an unearthly roar split the air as a very big box with wings dropped in over the ridge on pillars of fire. It looked almost as if someone had taken a Pelican and doubled its size in every dimension. The air around their platoon was very suddenly dry, as the heat from the exhaust banished the swampy miasma that had previously lingered about them. Some of the troops even huddled together or ducked down, trying not to get pushed back by the backwash.
"Hot's a bit of an understatement, mate," commented Private Cody Gray over the short-range radio. The twenty-nine surviving members of their platoon had managed to hold out under the relatively light attacks that had so far bothered to hound their position, largely thanks to the three SPARTANs.
As the roar died down to a more manageable level from the dropship that had just landed at the base of the hill, Lawson could hear a woman ordering them aboard through "Ramp 2", whatever that was.
"Hey, look at that!" Private Serenity Frazer exclaimed. "The side's opening up! Let's go!" The petite trooper led the half-charge for the ramp as it revealed the biggest thing Lawson had yet seen standing on two legs. It looked like someone had taken the gun from a Scorpion and stuck it atop the center hull of a Covenant Wraith, then given it chicken legs, and arms made of gun.
As the ramp made contact with the ground, it revealed a pair of soldiers holding cover on each side of the ramp. The marines scurried up the path to safety, and practically piled atop each other in the center of the bay. As he passed under the massive machine, a crack-hiss sound made him look up, and he caught a glimpse of what looked like lightning dissipating from the end of one of the machine's gun arms.
As the ramp closed behind the last marine aboard, he felt the ship beneath him tremble as it took to the air once again, and he took the opportunity to remove his helmet and run a hand through his sweat soaked hair.
After he caught his breath, Peter looked around for someone to thank, but the soldiers on the bay floor had all vanished. Probably up those ladders(1) towards that big glass window up above the bay. He stood shakily, with the help of one of the others from his platoon, and started his way towards the ladders. The clang of boots on metal above him made Peter look up.
Above him, on the armored hull of the giant machine they'd entered the ship beneath, stood a man wearing a fully armored suit, armored helmet dangling in his hand. Whatever it was he was saying was lost over the sound of a hydraulic arm moving a platform to the hull of the machine carrying a man in an white, pressurized suit. Probably a technician, he realized. The pilot stepped onto the platform and it carried them back to the catwalk.
Peter gathered all the energy he could muster and began to climb the ladder towards the catwalk. He reached the top of the third ladder at the same time the pilot of the giant machine walked into the hangar control area.
"Thanks for pulling us out of the fire there," Peter addressed the pilot, offering a hand. "I was worried we were gonna have to walk home." He stifled a low chuckle.
"Don't thank me," the pilot said, taking the offered hand and shaking it once before letting go. "You can thank her." He pointed to the woman in the olive green hardsuit half bent over the holographic table that dominated the central space of the room. "It was her idea to go in ourselves and pull you all out."
The woman looked up at the pilot. "Templar, good shooting," she said, before looking at Peter. "Marine."
"Corporal Peter Lawson, Ma'am. Thanks for the pickup."
"You're welcome, Corporal. We're on our way to drop you off at the Spirit. I would recommend you tell whoever's in charge of that lot sprawled across my Mechbay to make sure you're all ready to offload in 5."
"Yes, Ma'am." Lawson noted the use of the word; 'mechbay', not 'hangar bay'. Ergo, those giant walking death machines must be called 'mechs'. The UNSC did have some mechs, but nothing like these, and the UNSC's sure as hell didn't spit lightning! He'd have to send this info up the chain when he got back to the Spirit.
The door on the starboard side of the room hissed open, and a copper-haired man walked out of the room. The Corporal instinctively straightened at the man's obviously officer's bearing. "Captain, permission to come aboard?"
The man let out a full bellied laugh. "It's been quite some time since I've been a mere Captain, Marine. Colonel Watkin, Royal Black Watch. Callsign Paladin. This," he gestured to the woman at the table, "is Captain Lenora Remis, CO of the SLS Huntress."
The corporal blanched. "Apologies, Colonel, Captain." He bowed his head apologetically to the now-identified captain of the ship.
"None needed, Corporal. We're not wearing rank right now anyways," the Colonel chuckled, and indeed, Peter couldn't see any rank insignia or patches anywhere on the armored suits they were wearing. Strange that, in the UNSC, only the Spartans and ODSTs were similarly free of rank badges.
"Ma'am, Spirit control has cleared us to land on their starboard foredeck," a young man wearing a khaki jumpsuit with a strip of white along the right side spoke up from the port-most station.
"That's you, Corporal. Best get the gaggle ready to offload," the Captain said.
The Corporal saluted, and turned around only to almost walk face first into the wall of green and black metal that was a SPARTAN. Peter nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Captain," the SPARTAN addressed the ship's CO.
"You are?"
"Senior Chief Petty Officer Sierra-092," the green giant responded.
The Captain raised an eyebrow. "Is that all there is to it?"
"When on deployment, yes, Ma'am."
"Hmm."
Corporal Peter Lawson quickly fled down the ladder.
Author's Afterword:
This chapter was a doozy, especially when trying to figure out a grid system at a 45 degree angle to a map because they included a compass alignment that was pointing to one of the corners as North. That was particularly annoying. Well, at least that's over with. Next chapter, we leave the exterior surface and head inwards, into the planet.
So I've displayed some of the SLDF's airborne/voidborne fighter capabilities here, with what limited capacity they have along with them. The rest of the fighters we have available are still too far out to actually do anything, being with the ships at the Lagrange point or the ships headed to the Zenith point, so this is a fairly small contribution with none of the heavier dedicated strike fighters.
Also, Dropships are really quick, especially aerodynes like the Leopard.
NEXT TIME: Jump Infantry are crazy.
Thanks to Follower38 on Spacebattles for betaing this chapter.
Co-writer's Afterword:
This chapter was rather fun to brainstorm for, as we were able to determine all kinds of things that could be done with a Leopard Dropship. You may see some of our more entertaining discoveries later on. One of which is, by the numbers, a Leopard is capable of, but not designed for, VTOL landing with the transit drives on the bottom of the ship. These engines generate up to 3 G's acceleration of thrust, making them more than capable of lifting the entire dropship straight up. Or, if the pilot is skilled enough, using the engines for an improvised form of limited VTOL. It's a dangerous maneuver, however, as Leopards aren't designed for VTOL flight in the atmosphere, and maneuvering options are limited when attempting to use this technique.
Fun fact, the fusion thruster drives on a dropship are known to be able to flash-melt steel at close range. This is why everything in the hexes of a landing dropship in the tabletop game dies when it lands. As the Marine said: "Hot's a bit of an understatement". Add to that, the 1,400 ton mass of the dropship, and the term 'Burn and Squish' is pretty accurate.
We also have the Royal Black Watch's first encounter with Spartan II's. And the legendary 'anti-social' behavior of said Spartan II's. Even if it's from the perspective of the UNSC Marine that's just been bailed out from a bad situation.
Since some people may be quite confused in the scene with the Aerospace Fighters, and their radio calls, I will explain. The pilot's are using what's known as 'Brevity code'. Brevity codes are phrases designed to convey complex information with very few words or phrases, generally much faster than using full length radio calls. I borrowed 'Drive' from the Ace Combat series which has a multi missile launcher called the 'All Direction Multi-purpose Micro missile', or ADMM, so we used that for the LRM/SRM callout. 'Stab' was a callout that Nightwing and I decided on together as it was the one that made the most sense at the time for a laser Callout.
Also, I have a newfound respect for Air Traffic controllers. Even tracking and remembering 4 military craft in a story where you control the place they're going and what they're doing is tough without visual assistance. I can't imagine how difficult it is to track hundreds of craft that they have no major control over for hours on end every day. Seriously, just remembering what grid they're at during each point of the scene is tough.
Special thanks to my friend, who's a Retired Marine, for his assistance with Naval, Aviation, and Marine Terminology. Sadly, he's unlikely to ever read this story.
Glossary of terms:
(1): Tracer Beams:
The Lasers in Battletech are comprised of two separate beams. The actual damaging beam, which is invisible, and a Tracer, which is a beam in the visible spectrum and color coded as a quick shorthand to identify which Great House of the Inner Sphere the mech/vehicle/rifle is affiliated with. This beam often scatters off of airborne particulates like smoke or dust, and would otherwise only be visible to dismounts as it scatters or reflects off the impacted surface. A Mech's sensors will identify the entire length of the dangerous parts of the beam even without a completely visible beam.
The Terran Hegemony, and later the SLDF, would use a white Tracer. The Draconis Combine uses Red/Ruby, the Federated Suns use Yellow, the Lyran Commonwealth uses Blue/Sapphire, the Capellan Confederation uses green/Emerald, and the Free Worlds League uses violet/Amethyst. These colors are not officially canon, but this is the most common color scheme I've seen based on the houses, rather than the laser type. I prefer it as it's an easy way to ID friends against enemies.
To identify the class of laser, a Mech's or Vehicles sensor suite will provide an audible cue to the operator that is unique to each class of laser. Otherwise, infantry without a specialized sensor package would only be able to tell a laser is being fired if they are close enough to hear the physical mechanism energizing the air.
(2): Ladder: (Stairs do not exist on ships. Except Large Passenger Ships)
In this case, Ladder refers to a hybrid of a conventional ladder and stairway that is much more compact than a conventional stairway. They are commonly used on ships to save space and weight. They are specifically designed this way to make movement between decks of a ship easier underway, and are much easier to use then conventional ladders. The added benefit is that items can be carried one handed up or down on the ship's ladder to other decks, which is extremely difficult on a conventional ladder.
It's not unheard of for a ship underway to have crewmen jump entire decks using ladders under heavy seas. There are videos online of crew jumping from one deck to another in the movement of the ship in heavy seas.
In most navy's the person going down the ladder has right of way, only yielding to ordinance techs, medical personnel, and damage control parties. The last of which has priority over EVERYTHING. If you're aboard a ship, and you hear "Down Ladder", you are required to move away from the ladder to let your shipmates through. This is to prevent falls and injuries, as it's much harder to stop going down a ship's ladder than a conventional stairway/ladder.