Mobile Suit Gundam: The Road To Alexandria
Chapter 5
December 6, UC 0079
"Attention! Attention! All senior officers report to the command center! Repeat, all senior officers report to the command center!"
Samuel Holliday came tearing out of his tent at the PA system announcement. His shirt was half-buttoned and his field blouse was gripped in his hand as he dashed through the compound, boots pounding on the sandy ground. Skidding to a halt and nearly slipping on the loose gravel he entered the command tent to find most of the senior officers and a few senior NCOs already there. Noticing Lieutenant King standing near the back of the crowd, Holliday sidled up to the junior officer as he finished buttoning up his tunic.
"What's going on?"
King, a smallish, dark-haired man frowned as he replied, "We got a transmission squelched to us from Algiers claiming they were under attack. It broke up in static after a couple of seconds, so we can't tell if it was genuine."
"Well that takes the cake," Holliday muttered as he pulled on his field blouse. "And we've had nothing more from them?"
"Nothing more," announced Major Moore as he stepped out from the center of the crowd. Holliday cast a look up and down the man, he was back in his spit-and-polish dress uniform, looking better than he had in almost a month. There was also a slightly disturbing look in the man's eye, as though the thought of a coming conflict was giving him more life. I'm ordering a recon flight to be sent out. Major Callahan of D Company agrees that should be done.
"I'll keep the platoons on standby in case it is a real attack. Chances are, if Algiers has come under attack, we're next," Holliday stated.
"Indeed. Lieutenant King, I would like your tanks to remain on standby as well," Moore said. "If it is a Federation attack, by God we'll show them what we're made of."
Holliday did not voice his opinion; he didn't think the Feds were going to throw a lightweight force into a direct strike on Africa. And with their success in Europe, they were going to be riding a victorious high. That alone could be hard to fight against, especially for troops stuck in the middle of nowhere for months on end. But Holliday was resolved to defend this base as best he could in the face of a Federation attack.
Leaving the command tent, Pappas and Cusik fell in beside their commander. "You think it's true, sir?" Pappas asked. "Have the Feddies invaded Africa at last?"
"I think so, Pappas. It was a matter of time before they did so, especially after their victory at Odessa." Holliday thought for a moment. "What disturbs me is that we've been getting none of the rumors we got prior to Odessa. Not even Greenwood at Alexandria's heard anything from the other Divisions. It's as though we've been cut off completely, and that's what has me worried."
"I see a repeat of April," Cusik piped up, looking even more sour than usual. "Except that this time we're going to be the defenders."
A small crowd had gathered at the edge of the airfield as the recon flight prepared to take off. Moore was giving final instructions to the flight crews, clad in light blue and gray normal suits. They saluted as he handed them his handwritten orders, and dashed for their planes waiting out on the runway.
Maria made her was up to Holliday, who was standing near the back of the crowd. Wrapping her hands around his arm, she asked, "What's going on? I haven't seen Franklin this excited since the night before the raid."
"We lost contact with Battalion this morning," Holliday told her, gripping one of her hands. "We're sending a recon flight to check, but we're pretty sure the Federation has invaded Africa."
"Fighting is going to escalate, isn't it?"
Holliday nodded gravely. "I don't think the Federation will be content to stop at Algiers."
The whine of jet engines spooling up came from the tarmac, drowning out any more chance at conversation. The recon flight, a pair of the swan-necked Dopps and the oddly shaped Luggun taxied out onto the main runway and, in turn, throttled up and shot down the runway and lifted off into the sky. Holliday and Maria watched as they circled the base once before streaking off to the north.
"Goshawk flight, this is Goshawk lead, we're coming up on Battalion's air defense zone," the pilot of the lead Dopp reported to the rest of the flight. His GPS display was keyed up, indicating the ground-to-air defenses on the map. A red line showed the edge of fire effectiveness. Three seconds later, the flight had passed over it, and no flak was there to greet them.
"I still haven't made contact with their ground control, "the sensor operator on Recon 1 reported. He'd been attempting to do so for most of the last hour. "I'm getting Minofski interference something fierce, though. Seems like something big went down, but I can't tell what."
"Start taking pictures the moment we get visuals. We're close to the base, I can already see the sea from here. Goshawk 2, stick close to Recon 1."
"Copy that, lead, came Goshawk 2's reply. Hey, you guys see that?"
"See what, 2?"
"Looks like smoke, bearing three-four-nine. Correction, it's definitely smoke, and a hell of a lot of it. Christ, looks like something big's on fire down there. Recon, you getting this?"
"Oh, I'm getting it all right," Recon 1 reported. "Lead, can we swing a bit closer to it? Looks like it's about the base's location. The Major's going to want details on this."
"Yeah, I suppose he would," Lead murmured. Like many on the base, his opinion of Moore was not the highest. But Lead had his orders, and that was to bring back whatever information he could about the situation in Algiers. "Okay, Goshawk flight, set heading for three-four-nine. Set altitude to five thou."
"Copy, Lead."
The Dopps and the flying wing of the Luggun swooped lower, banking toward the smoke. As they neared it, it was clear that something large had been burning. The Luggun's twin radar dishes had been angled toward the ground, and the belly-mounted cameras were busily snapping pictures of the destruction.
"Holeee ***t!" cried Goshawk 2. What the hell swept through here? Below them was the remains of a Zeon armored unit, Magella tanks left burning in the hills surrounding Algiers. Zakus, their limbs torn away, their torsos holed through and burned out lay twisted on the ground. Not too far away, the remains of the Battalion HQ outside of the city could be seen, the last of the fires sweeping through it slowly burning themselves out. It was a scene of devastation none of the men had seen since the initial invasion.
"Recon 1, please tell me you're getting all of this," Goshawk lead whispered. So captivated by the wreckage of what had been the 3rd Battalion's A and B Companies was he that he almost did not hear Goshawk 2's frantic warning.
"Lead, we've got company!"
Goshawk lead searched the skies outside of his dome canopy, looking for the enemy fighters. "There, a squad at two o'clock high. Saberfish. Repeat, we have Saberfish in the air. Recon 1, get the hell out of here. Goshawk 2, we've got to delay these bastards long enough for Recon 1 to get away. Prepare to engage the Saberfish."
Pulling back on the stick, Goshawk lead ramped his throttle up to full, peeling away from the now-retreating Recon 1. Goshawk 2 formed up on his wing, and together the Zeon fighters charged the formation of Saberfish coming at them.
The Federal pilots had actually expected the Dopps to make a run for it, and so were taken by surprise on Goshawk flight's first pass. 20mm shells tore through the fuselage of one of the Federal fighters, exploding it in mid-air. Rounds from Goshawk 2's cannon shredded the portside wing of another, sending it spiraling toward the ground in a trail of thick black smoke.
The Saberfish quickly caught on that the Zeons were not trying to run, and within a few seconds, the battle was joined. Cannon fire crisscrossed the sky as fighters twisted and looped, trying to latch onto the tails of their enemies. While outnumbered, the Zeon fighters did have one advantage: their aircraft were painted to match the terrain, while the Saberfish were a bright blue and white. Goshawk flight pressed this advantage by swooping low about the ground, trying to shake off their Federal pursuers.
Unfortunately, for Goshawk 2, it didn't seem to be working. "Lead, I've got two of these bastards on me! Get them off!" came his frantic plea. Lead pulled a quick Immleman and ditched the fighter that had been trying to gun him down. Locking on to one of the Saberfish, he fired off a volley from his rocket pods.
One of the Saberfish took the hit square in the engines and exploded, showering debris over the hills far below. The other managed to evade, and fired off one of its own missile in response. Goshawk 2 died as the missile blew the raised cockpit clear off the fuselage of the Dopp. The fighter tumbled out of the sky, orange flames licking at the sky on its way down.
Goshawk lead had his revenge a minute later, raking the Saberfish's wings with machine gun fire. The port wing collapsed and sent the fighter into a spin toward the ground. Satisfied, Lead began to pull up, until his fighter shook under the impact of gunfire.
"That bastard," he muttered through clenched teeth. One of the rounds had struck the cockpit, driving shrapnel into his abdomen. He reefed the fighter around, hissing in pain as the G-forces tore at the wound. With his last thought, hoping that the Luggun had been given enough time, he jammed the throttle open wide and aimed for the Saberfish. Blue and white was the last thing he saw.
Holliday scanned the horizon with his Zaku's optics system, looking, searching for anything out of the ordinary. Be it the recon flight or a cadre of Federal fighters, his normally suppressed paranoia had come and reared its ugly head. Glancing at one of his side monitors, he saw that the anti-aircraft gunnery crews were likewise scanning the sky.
"Team, this is lead. Report in," he ordered over the headset microphone.
"Two here, I've got nothing," Pappas reported in. He was more subdued than usual. The new tension had gotten to everyone on the base.
"This is Three, I can't see anything. Where are those damn air force slugs, anyway?" Cusik said dryly. Holliday suppressed a smile as the rest of the mobile suits, scattered around the base, reported in. They, too, had nothing to report.
This, he thought, is one of the worst ways to pass time. Trying to act as though you're ready for something, but all you can really do is let that impending sense of doom hang over you until the other shoe finally drops.
"Captain Holliday, this is Porter at zero-three-five," one of the other pilots reported in a few minutes later. "I've got a sighting coming in from the north. It looks like Recon 1, but its escorts are nowhere to be seen."
"I copy that, Porter. Pappas?"
"Sir?"
"Take charge here. I'm heading over to the landing field to see what Recon 1 has to tell us."
"Yes, sir."
Holliday's Zaku turned and strode off along the edge of the base, footfalls echoing off the rocks as it made its way toward the airfield. Upon reaching the field, Holliday locked the Zaku down in a kneeling position, opened the hatch, and climbed out.
He found Lieutenant King and Major Moore already waiting for the Luggun's arrival. "Where are the escorts?" Moore was demanding. "This was supposed to be a routine reconnaissance flight. If those two air force hotshots are off gallivanting across the desert, I'll have their heads!"
Holliday and King exchanged looks, but said nothing. If Recon 1 was coming back alone, the chances that there had been Federal Forces waiting at Algiers were next to definite. They watched in silence as the flying wing swooped low and touched down on the runway. The flight crew had seen the officers waiting for them, and as the engines whined to shutdown, they steered the plane closer to the edge of the runway. When it had come to a complete halt, the ground crews rushed out onto the tarmac to secure the fighter and to allow the flight crew to exit.
They made their way up to the officers, removed their helmets and saluted the men.
"Well, where are those idiots I sent to escort you?" Moore demanded.
"Sir, we got jumped by Saberfish," the Luggun's pilot answered wearily. "Goshawk flight stayed behind to draw them off us. We we don't think they made it back, sir."
Moore was too stunned for words, so Holliday jumped in, "And Battalion? What did you see?"
"Battalion was gone," the sensor operator told him. "It looked like they tried to escape south, but we found the remains of what must have been a full armored company, all shot to hell. The base itself was gutted, burning itself out. There was nothing left, Captain."
"Damn. Any reading on enemy forces?"
"Other than the Saberfish that jumped us, didn't see any. We got film of what was left of the base."
Holliday frowned. "Get the photos ready for the Major, we'll examine them in the command tent. Good work."
"Thank you, Sir." The flight crew returned Holliday's salute and dashed off to carry out their orders. The Captain then turned to Moore, who was looking pale and drawn. "Major, we need to examine our options in the command tent. Major?"
"Yes, you're right," Moore agreed unhappily. "Summon the rest of the senior staff. We need to plan quickly."
Fifteen minutes later, the entire senior staff- with the notable exception of the engineering corps had gathered in the command tent. A large map of the region had been spread out on the center table, notations hastily scribbled across it in a grease pencil.
Major Moore stood over it, looking somewhat upset, but at the same time the fierce, disdainful look he'd had upon first arriving at Ghardaia had returned to his eyes. At the moment, he was intently studying the photographs the Luggun had brought back. It showed a dire situation, the Algiers base completely leveled, Battalion forces left to burn in the foothills outside the city. No, this was not good, Moore thought as he tapped his baton gently against his leg. It showed weakness, but at the same time, opportunity.
"Gentlemen," he began. "We have a situation. Sometime within the last twenty-four hours, the 3rd Battalion Headquarters at Algiers was attacked by Federal Forces and annihilated." There was little reaction to this; scuttlebutt had already spread the news about the camp. "We are, at the moment, uncertain of their strength, but this act cannot go unanswered. We must retaliate swiftly and effectively. We must take back from the Federation what is rightfully ours and show them that they can never have Africa!"
"Major, let me get this straight," Holliday interrupted. He was a little sick of the constant pontificating that was the basis for Moore's briefings. "You intend to launch an assault through four hundred and fifty klicks of desert and mountains against a force whose numbers and composition we have no idea of?"
"You have a problem with this, Captain?" More asked, a menacing edge in his voice.
"Yes sir, I do. It's suicide. We should be spending our time preparing for the Federal advance they are going to attack this base sooner or later, Major. We need to be ready for them when they come. We can set up a more effective defense and cause more damage to the Federation here. Not by launching a blind attack through the mountains, where the Federals can set up nice little ambushes for us."
"Your point is noted, Captain. However this attack will go forward. Pride demands-"
"Pride is going to get us killed!" Holliday shouted, startling many in the tent. "Major, I am lodging a formal report about my misgivings on this course of action. I will not be responsible for leading my men into a deathtrap over a matter of pride! We need to dig in for the Federal advance and we need to contact Divisional Headquarters on this. With Battalion destroyed, General Bitter is-"
"General Bitter is on the other side of this damn miserable continent!" Moore roared. "I am company commander here, you will follow my orders and no one else's! Do you understand that, Captain?"
"Major, I will also be filing a report in regards to your blatant disregard for the Divisions command hierarchy."
"That's it. Sergeant Nelson!"
"Sir?" One of the NCOs who had followed Moore from Odessa stepped forward, with several of the others flanking him.
"I am placing Captain Holliday under arrest for insubordination and cowardice in the face of the enemy. You will relieve him of his sidearm and confine him to quarters. He is to be under guard at all times, and under no circumstances is he allowed visitors."
"Yes sir."
At this, there was an angry murmur from the rest of the gathered officers and NCOs. These were men who had served with Holliday since the drop operation; they weren't about to see him tried in a kangaroo court of Moore's design. Lieutenant King stepped forward, his hand resting on the butt of his pistol. "Say the word, Sam. Say it, and we won't let these bastards take you."
"We're behind you, Captain," Cusik chimed in. "We're not going to back down."
"David, Robert, stand down," Holliday told them as he surrendered his pistol to Sergeant Nelson. "I'll not have you dragged down on mutiny charges. Follow your orders, and don't you dare try something stupid."
"Yes, sir," Cusik conceded, looking defeated. Moore threw Holliday a smug look, then ordered, "Take him away."
Much to his own surprise, Holliday was not angry. Sitting in his tent, he reflected that he was surprised this had not come before. After all, he'd been goading Moore into doing something stupid for quite some time now. He was just afraid of two things. Of his men, men more loyal to him than they ever would be to Moore, dying needlessly under the command of an imbecile. That, and of them being slapped with mutiny charges if they tried to free Holliday from incarceration. Not that it would be too hard, but Holliday did not want his men facing those charges if it ever leaked out past the camp.
Of course, now all Holliday had to do was figure a way out of this for himself. Moore, more than likely, would stop at nothing to see him in front of a firing squad. Holliday did not relish the prospect of being shot.
To his surprise, the flap of his tent was flung open. Holliday wondered who had gotten past Moore's no visitors command, until he saw that it was Moore himself. "So, come to gloat?" Holliday spat.
"Put it that way, yes. I've been looking forward to this for a long time, you little insubordinate bastard. You've been a thorn in my side since the day I took command of this miserable company. That, and I'm well aware of your involvement with Miss Kamaras. Personally, I'd see you staked out in the desert for that."
"She's not your Goddamned property," Holliday snarled. "She's allowed to associate with whomever she wants."
"Ah, but she is my property, you see. I saved her life, and until she repays me for the kindness I've shown her, she is mine to do with as I please. And I do not appreciate other men becoming intimately involved with what is rightfully mine."
"You're sick. You're also an idiot," Holliday hissed. "I should have let that tank shoot you in the back at Tataouine."
"And I'm eternally grateful for you saving my life," Moore told him with an ironic little smile. "Which is why I'm having you shot instead of something more painful. The trial will take place tomorrow, though it shan't last long. Sentence will be carried out immediately after, and then I can get on with my attack on the Federation."
"I hope your glory means something to you when you're dead. It sure as hell won't matter to anyone else."
Moore threw him a frown, then turned and walked out, leaving Holliday alone with his thoughts once more.
Hours later, and Holliday was drifting in and out of sleep as he lay on his bunk. He figured that if this was to be his last night in this world, he might as well try and get some rest. Besides, despite Moore's threats, who knew what the morning would bring.
It was in one of the periods of fitful sleep that it started. A low, rolling siren that swept across the base and jolted Holliday awake.
Air raid!
Chapter 5 Notes:
Dopp: I love these ugly, bizarre little fighters. The Dopps of Goshawk flight are stationed at Ghardaia base specifically as escorts for the Luggun. These boys have lots of experience at low-level NOE flying. Their fighters are also painted in desert camouflage.
Federation Invasion of Africa: While not as massive as the Odessa Operation or possibly even North America, I do think the Feds would have thrown a somewhat sizeable force at Africa. I envision this as a 3-or-4 pronged assault, with landings at Dakar (though that's going to be tied up for a while), Algiers, Libiya (to drive a wedge between Western and Eastern forces), and possibly at Casablanca.