Chapter 10.
Cadens.
11km above ground level.
The cockpit seemed to come alive, shaking wildly and screaming at them. Alarms were beeping, red warning lights blinking. The sudden drop in cabin pressure was accompanied by the plane lurching into a steep descent.
John Lovell's world erupted into chaos as the airliner was suddenly speared by brilliant beams of red light. Explosive decompression flung loose items like bullets through the cockpit as the plane pitched into a steep dive. Klaxons blared and warnings flashed red across every screen.
Cursing, John hauled back on the yoke with all his strength, struggling to pull the mortally wounded jet out of its death spiral. The controls barely responded; entire hydraulic systems likely shredded by whatever hit them. But through sheer muscle power, he managed to raise the nose and level the wings some.
Beside him, Lenny was desperately radioing a mayday while Mike struggled aft to check the damage. John didn't need to see to know it was bad - the plane was handling like a brick, entire sections likely lost.
"Brace for impact!" he shouted over the din, though an ocean landing was their only hope now. No way they'd make a runway. The crew shouted acknowledgements, tightening straps and assuming positions.
John said a silent prayer as he gently banked the crippled jet towards the water, buying precious altitude. Whoever - or whatever - had attacked them, he could only hope they made it down in one piece.
"Hold together girl," he urged through clenched teeth, coaxing the jet lower with each passing moment. They were gliding for now - but the REAL fight for survival was just beginning.
"Mike, how the hell you holding up buddy". Lovell asked the Flight Engineer.
"Jack, we only got enough to limp to Hokkaido prefecture on Satsuma's coast. And the control warned us not to do that except in an emergency. "Mike's face was stained with sweat and looked a bit motion sick.
John gritted his teeth as the wounded airliner struggled to maintain altitude. Mike's report from the cabin confirmed his fears - catastrophic damage, with barely enough control left to make the Satsuman coastline. An emergency landing there went against the orders from Tokyo Control, but they were fast running out of options.
"Just have to risk it, we don't have a choice," John told Mike over the intercom. "See if you can patch anything to give us a few more minutes of level flight. We'll need every second to make the shore."
Mike acknowledged and scrambled to jury-rig temporary fixes with the damaged hydraulic lines. Meanwhile, John and Lenny fought with the heavy controls, coaxing just a bit more life from the mortally stricken jet.
Alarmingly, the right wing and tail controls were growing sluggish by the minute. John tried the radio again, but it was still dead. No help was coming - success or failure rested solely on their shoulders now.
"C'mon girl, stay with me," John murmured, rubbing the control panel like he was gentling a spooked horse. The coastline was tantalizingly close, if only they could stretch their glide a little more...
John glanced over at Lenny, seeing his own grim focus mirrored in the co-pilot's youthful eyes. No words were needed - each knew the stakes. With skill, guts and luck, they just might cheat death today.
Next to him, Lenney quickly put on his oxygen mask. He grabbed the control stick and tapped Kim on the shoulder. Kim nodded and briefly let go of the controls to secure his own mask.
"Are the engines okay?" Lovell asked firmly, trying to sound confident despite the chaos and the muffled sound of his voice through the mask.
"The engines are fine," Mike blurted out from the flight engineer's station behind them. He also had his mask on.
"What about the hydraulics?" Lenny asked.
"The hydraulic pressure..." Mike started, swallowing nervously. "The hydraulic pressure is dropping!"
Lovell's eyes darted to the altimeter. It was decreasing rapidly. 35,000 feet... 34,000... 33,000... 32,000...
"Pull up!" Lovell shouted, "pull up!"
"It's not responding!" Mike cried, pulling back on the control stick with all his strength.
For a few terrifying moments, the jumbo jet seemed to be in a free fall. Lovell could feel his heart pounding in his throat. Beside him, Mike yelped as the coffee cup he had been holding spilled all over his pants.
And then, inexplicably, after descending over 10,000 feet, the plane suddenly started to level out and then ascend again. Lovell pushed the control stick forward, then pulled it back again. Nothing happened. He glanced at the airspeed indicator. During the descent, they had accelerated to over 600 knots, and now, with the increased speed, the wings were generating more lift. However, as the plane began to climb again, the airspeed was decreasing.
XXX
The radar indicated that the target was still active. Zhalkova thought to herself, 'Damn, this guy is good.' Two of the missiles had missed, but the third was no longer active. This meant that either the target had destroyed it with countermeasures, or it had hit but had no effect. This indicated that the target was incredibly tough. Zhalkova quickly ordered her wingmen to disable their proximity fuses and aim for direct impacts this time.
Vronska had already used up her radar-guided R-70 missiles and was now switching to heat-seekers. She would be the first to fire, from a slightly different angle to avoid interference from the other two missiles' thermal signatures. After this, she would only have one missile left. Zhalkova ordered her to fire it after their initial salvo and then return to base.
Once they completed their loop and were back in position to attack, all three of them opened fire again. With Vronska out of ammunition, she broke off and headed back to Vyazma while Zhalkova and Bobrova continued the attack.
XXX
Lieutenant Karla Braun let out an exhilarated whoop as her Valkyrie broke free of the two remaining rebel pursuers. Her daring aerial maneuvers had allowed her to evade their missile locks and gain some precious separation. But the duel wasn't over yet.
"Don't get cocky lieutenant, they're coming around for another pass," her co-pilot Soren cautioned, tracking the rebel craft on auspex as they looped back towards them.
"Let them come, we've bloodied their noses enough for now," Karla shot back, adrenaline still surging through her veins. The rebels had gotten in some decent hits, but her Valkyrie still had fangs.
"Lt. Soren, incoming salvo!" warned Karla. "Initiate chaff deployment." Based on her observations, it appeared that these missiles were guided by radar. The only way to confirm this was to test it out. She also adjusted the lascannon's power setting to a lower level, allowing the capacitors to recharge more quickly.
"Chaff deployed!" declared Soren.
Similar to the Imperial Guard, the Imperial Navy followed a general policy of prioritizing speed and cost-efficiency in the construction of their ships and attack craft. Quantity was often favored over quality. While an Eldar pilot may spend centuries perfecting their skills and have a finely crafted Nightwing made of Wraithbone, tailored specifically to them, the Imperium's manufactora could produce a million Valks or Thunderbolts in that same time frame. The Aeronautica Imperialis pilot training program only required 6 months and 240 hours of actual flying time to complete. As a result of this policy, there was a significant difference in quality and survivability between the standard Valks in service and those reserved for the Inquisition or the Mechanicum. However, even the basic Valk had its own set of capabilities. And in this moment, Lt. Skiff utilized one of these hidden features.
A tube located below the cockpit of the Valk released a canister with a loud "fooom!" The canister burst open, releasing a shower of small, thin plasteel strips. Karla executed a sharp turn and evaded the missiles.
As expected, the second and third missiles continued on their original path towards the chaff, failing to adjust for Karla's change in direction. However, the lead missile turned and pursued her, closing in rapidly. Karla cursed, realizing that the third missile must be heat-seeking.
But at that moment, the lascannon had fully charged and with the lower setting, she estimated that she could fire a couple of shots. She swiftly maneuvered towards the incoming missile and unleashed a shot. Unfortunately, her aim was off the mark on the first attempt. However, she didn't give up and fired again. This time, she successfully intercepted the missile with the beam, obliterating it.
There was no time for celebration though, as the auspex issued a warning. The second missile had exploded amidst the chaff, but the third missile had detected the deception and was now adjusting its course towards her. To make matters worse, the auspex detected a fourth missile approaching. With the lascannon recharging and the chaff dispensers empty, she had no choice but to switch to her secondary weapons: a pair of multi-missile pods. She had already utilized the portside pod when she assisted Sgt. Trevin's squad during their descent.
Although the multi-missile pods were primarily designed for short-range anti-infantry purposes, their current function didn't matter. Mira swiftly pressed a button on her control column, launching several smaller missiles to intercept the larger one heading her way. The cluster missiles detonated around the rebel missile, destroying it completely.
However, the fourth missile persisted and the auspex warned that impact was imminent. Mira could only bank sharply and brace herself for the impending collision.
The missile detonated, causing the entire Valk to tremble. Karla was forcefully jolted, her helmet colliding with the glass canopy. Despite the sturdy construction and padding, she felt the impact almost like a concussion. Debris, including torn strips from her craft, scattered into the air. Warning lights flashed in the cockpit. Shaking her head to regain composure, Karla tested the control column. At least they were still airborne.
"Provide a damage report!" she ordered.
"Fire on the right side of the engine!" Soren exclaimed, struggling to operate the fire-control switches. "The explosion has caused damage to the lower part of the aircraft. The door on the right side has been completely blown off - luckily, it didn't hit the tail! Fuel is leaking from tanks five and seven; we need to get rid of it or else there's a risk of an electrical fire! However, I can redirect power from non-essential systems to keep the aircraft flying for a while. We can rely on the left engine for now and the maneuvering thrusters are still functional."
"Don't worry, I'll hold everything together and find a way out!" Karla shouted confidently. She glanced at the radar. This time, they were fortunate that the enemy attack hit the thickest armor plating on the Valk, which was designed to provide protection similar to the frontal armor of a Chimera or a Rhino. However, the rebel aircraft were still pursuing them, mocking her, and they were incredibly fast. Escaping by outrunning them was out of the question. If they wanted any chance of survival, she would have to fight back.
XXX
He's one tough guy, I have to admit that, thought Zhalkova. "Just so you know, the target has been hit but is still active."
With Vronska gone and heading back to base, it was now only her and Bobrova on the mission. They were currently flying in a loop pattern, keeping their distance from the target. Zhalkova's own aircraft, like her beloved 'Fighting Girlfriend', was a remarkable machine designed for dogfighting. Now, as the enemy target started heading straight towards them, the challenge was to outrun the turning ability of a slower yet highly maneuverable aircraft. And, as Zhalkova was about to discover, it still had a lot of fight left in it.
Suddenly, a bright red beam of light appeared out of nowhere, slicing through the night sky. It didn't hit anyone, but the fact that this weapon could fire at the speed of light without any radar warning was unsettling. Sokolov now understood why their superiors wanted to capture this target alive - the potential of reverse-engineering such an offensive weapon system and mounting it on a Hind gunship or the new Su-35s was mind-boggling.
"Watch out, the target has a powerful laser weapon!" warned Zhalkova, "Launch your missile and retreat!"
"Absolutely," replied Bobrova.
By that time, Zhalkova and Bobrova had exited the loop and were preparing for the next shot. Once again, the laser beam appeared, but this time it was much closer - dangerously close. In an instant, the entire sky above her seemed to illuminate. Even though Zhalkova was inside her cockpit and wearing her flight helmet, she could have been temporarily blinded or dazzled by the intense light if it weren't for the protective visor. If she had been just a meter lower, it would have been fatal.
Regrettably, the beam narrowly missed the main body and fuel tanks, but it did scrape the top of the starboard tail fin, completely severing it. Warning lights started flashing in the cockpit. With such significant damage to the stabilizers, Girlfriend began to bank sharply. Anya attempted to correct the course, but then she realized that she had a target lock and a clear shot at the enemy, who was now very close. Without hesitation, she pressed the trigger on her control stick. One of her last two missiles launched and sped towards the target.
However, the recoil from the missile launch, combined with the loss of stability from the damaged tail fin, caused the MiG to spiral out of control. The aircraft nosedived into a dive...
Zhalkova growled in frustration as the alien bastard's laser beam sheared off her MiG's tail, sending her fighter into an uncontrolled spiral. Warning lights flashed angrily as she struggled to regain control, but it was no use. Her Girlfriend was going down hard.
Cursing, she grabbed the eject handles on her KD-36DM ejector seat and pulled. Explosive bolts fired and the canopy jettisoned clear an instant before the ejector seat's rockets flung her violently skyward. The g-forces crushed her into her seat as the ground spun dizzyingly below.
The battered airliner shuddered violently around Robbie as it continued its precarious descent, the cabin filled with screams and flying debris. He clenched his armrests so hard his knuckles turned white, struggling to stay calm amidst the chaos.
The crew had vanished, likely fighting to keep them in the air just a little longer. Out the window, Robbie saw they were gliding low over a forested mountain range. He guessed they were aiming for an emergency landing on the coast beyond.
Suddenly there was an earsplitting CRACK from the left side of the plane. A jagged hole opened in the fuselage near the leading edge of the wing, spewing more baggage and magazines like shrapnel through the cabin. Oxygen masks dropped from above as the cabin depressurized again.
Robbie quickly pulled his mask on, heart lurching as he realized how much damage the aircraft had sustained. They were basically flying on a wing and a prayer now. But at only 12 years old, he refused to give up hope. His dad hadn't raised him to be a quitter.
As the water drew nearer, Robbie closed his eyes and tried to remember happier times with his family. If these were his final moments, those memories would give him courage and comfort when he needed them most.
He hoped the pilots could pull off one last miracle. But come what may, he would face his fate with dignity. His parents would expect no less.
The cabin tilting forward told Robbie they were almost out of altitude. The shoreline filled the windows now, waves churning below. He took a deep breath and braced for impact...
XXX
General Alexis Jaeger.
2211st Cadian Armoured Regiment.
A few hours after Halt order was issued.
Colonel Jaeger paced back and forth within the confines of his Baneblade command tank, gnawing on a thumbnail in agitation. The campaign had been going far too smoothly, and that fact disturbed him more than any enemy attack could.
For while the objectives fell rapidly before his armored spearheads with hardly a shot fired in response, Jaeger's instincts screamed of some sinister trap awaiting in the shadows. No foe simply rolled over and evacuated without fighting - there had to be something more at work here.
But scouts reported only empty villages and towns, signs of rushed departures the only traces left behind. Not so much as a rearguard stood to slow the Cadians' advance. It was maddeningly unnatural.
"What are they playing at?" Jaeger muttered to himself, brooding over the tactical maps. Multiple prongs of his thrusts had linked up far ahead of schedule, with civilian centers basically abandoning themselves to his forces.
It felt too damn easy, and success without bloodshed rarely came without hidden costs. His Cadian veterans shared their Colonel's unease, and morale had started to twitch with creeping paranoia.
"No ambushes, no traps sprung," Jaeger said to his XO, running gnarled hands through graying hair. "They're leading us somewhere, but to what? Every kilometer we advance just widens the jaws of some waiting snare; I know it!"
His second could offer no reassurances, for the pattern defied all rational military logic. Still Jaeger's instincts had never failed him, and to ignore that gut sense risked disaster.
"Double all sentries, have the artillery prime site defensive patterns," he ordered grimly. "We press on, but slowly and ready for anything. Complacency will destroy us, where bold action might have saved lives. Stay sharp, damn you all - the enemy wants us to slip!"
And with that parting shot, he settled down to check the few charts they had captured, from abandoned hab areas and just figure out where the hell they were. Battlefleet Scolaris was counting on him, his regiment alone had one of the most areas to cover in the compliance. By Jove they were going to succeed. Cadia Stands!
Southern Francovia
0630 Hours.
US 5th Battalion
Day 2 of WW3.
The Humvee was playing Tears for Fears, loudly too as it came to the staging area. Several infantrymen looked up but soon lost interest, they all knew who that was, and they didn't particularly give a damn.
Stopping the Humvee near where three officers were planning. Capt Mark Bannon got out of the vehicle, shutting of the radio as he did. Just as he closed the door, he remembered his weapon, his M16A2. Grabbing it, he finally slammed the door shut before beginning to walk to where the three officers stood.
"And then we'll flank them to the right while the cavalry draw fire."
"Oui, but we do have a problem."
Bannon jogged up to the group, before announcing himself with a salute. "Captain Bannon, reporting for duty sir! Ready to kick ass and take names sir!"
"You're an hour late captain." Col Jeremiah Sawyer, his CO said.
"I'm sorry sir, I got caught up by this Francovian girl in the village…"
"Your excuses don't interest me." Swayer brusquely snapped. He turned and introduced the two other officers, another Concordian, dressed similarly in woodland camo with PASGT, and a Francovian, with short, almost shorn blonde hair and green fatigues, with a FAMAS slung over his back.
"This is Lieutenant Parker. And this, is Commandant Sabatier, our Francovian liaison officer."
The 2nd LT, Parker saluted, while Sabatier, merely turned his head to give a short nod, unconvinced. Sawyer, now done with the introductions, returned to the map, before looking at Bannon.
"Charlie Company is waiting for you by a farm just behind this patch of forest." He brought Bannon to the side and motioned with his arm, "You can see it from here."
Bannon squinted…that farm? "Yeah the…eh." he began.
"Get over there now." Sawyer cut him off. "We're moving into the attack within the hour."
Bannon hesitated before saluting. "Yes sir!" he exclaimed before turning to jog back to his Humvee, Sabatier watching him go.
"Very eager. He'll be dead by dinner." The Francovian commented as the Humvee's engine started and Everybody Wants to Rule the World blared, before fading.
Sawyer grunted noncommittally in response to Sabatier's remark. He had his doubts about Bannon's leadership as well, but there were bigger concerns right now.
"Did those recon photos come through?" he asked Parker. The lieutenant nodded, unfolding printouts from his field pack.
"Take a look," he said, handing them to Sawyer and Sabatier. "Our FLIR sweeps from the AC-130 picked up abnormal heat signatures about 10 klicks northwest of here. Multiple structures arrayed defensively."
Sawyer studied the grainy infrared images intently. Weird, elongated ellipses clustered in what could only be termed an encampment.
"Any emissions detected?" Sabatier questioned curtly, his Francovian accent clipped. Parker shook his head.
"Radio silence from the site. No transmissions whatsoever. Whatever they are, they're keeping covert."
"Hiding from something," mused Sawyer darkly. He pointed to segmented lines in the photos. "Look - trenches and berms built up around the entire perimeter. Not human tactics."
Sabatier grunted, coming to the obvious conclusion. "Then we have confirmation. The alien invaders are indeed in this sector."
Sawyer nodded slowly. "And we're going to find out exactly what we're dealing with. Parker - prep a recon element to probe that site under cover of darkness. I want eyes on before we commit the battalion."
"And what of Bannon?" asked Sabatier pointedly. Sawyer frowned, gazing in the direction the captain had driven off.
"I'll give him his chance. But the first sign of trouble, he's relieved. We can't afford mistakes against these things."
Sabatier merely nodded, "Very well, au revoir for now, Monsieur Colonel, I believe it's time to attack, non?"
The two Concordians looked at their wrist watches, damn! He was right.
"Alright" Sawyer nodded before picking up the transmitter connecting him to the M777 Howitzer battery.
Sawyer spoke urgently into his radio transmitter. "Zeus battery, this is Eagle-Six actual. Enemy contacts approaching from grid map square November-4, multiple targets. Engage with everything you've got, buy us some time to advance!"
Acknowledgments crackled back as the M777s swung into action. Within moments, the thunderous reports of outgoing artillery began echoing across the battlefield as high explosive shells rained down on the aliens' suspected path.
By this time, Parker had reached his own command, Bravo company. Mounting up the Humvee mounted with a Browning M2 50 Cal.
All around him, riflemen, some with Dragon ATGM's slung on their backs began to advance as the artillery shells struck the target zone, obscuring it as the explosions cascaded in geysers of dirt. He didn't notice or hear his radio crackling.
"Time for you to prove my faith in you Lieutenant Parker." Col Sawyer's gravelly voice said. "While Captain Bannon keeps E.T. occupied to the south, you are to strike deep at a firebase located near the lighthouse. Those guns are causing a lot of damage, the sooner you get this done, the better.
For a moment, Parker heard nothing but the sound of whirring helicopter blades and arty striking targets. It was a short beat before Sawyer came back on air.
"And Parker, you're working alongside an OFN unit, I expect you to show them the true mettle of a Concordian officer. Eagle-Six, out."
Parker sighed as there was a click, and the crackling ceased. He now had a pretty big role in this operation, Sawyer and the Commandant both didn't seem to trust Bannon, so it looked like they'd entrusted the bulk of the heavy-lifting to him.
He was about to turn his walkie-talkie off when it crackled and clicked again.
"Lieutenant, over here, cowards die a coward's death. Keep that in mind and you will do well." The thick accented voice of Commandant Sabatier announced.
"This is Foxtrot-Six. My Aviation company has engaged the enemy, and my ground forces will soon be in contact."
And with that short announcement, all was silent on the airwaves. Parker took a deep breath. This was it, the first counterattack since the landing and invasion 24 hours ago. All around him, his own subcommanders now called in on the roll, everyone was present and accounted for. Parker's Humvee was in the middle of the formation, well protected by the M1 Abrams and Bradley IFV's.
Jumping out, a risky move and choice, he rolled on the ground before leaping up, and running over to Bradly labled "No.63" and knocked on it. The vehicle slowed to a grinding halt, allowing Parker to enter, he sat down with his squad, the Bradley wasting no time at all as it closed it's rear door and rejoining Bravo company.
"Parker! Try to clear out that vineyard so we can expand our supply lines."
Sawyer's order was terse, forcing the young Lieutenant Ryan Parker, to consult his map. The literal physical map that was on his lap as he turned on a flashlight and began to inspect it. The firebase, was still a long way off, labelled in dark red marker. Parker traced his fingers as he mapped the route to the vineyard before keying in on Bravo's frequency.
"All units this is Bravo-Six, turn to sector Victor-22. The Col wants us to take the vineyard to expand our supply routes. We'll capture it quickly before continuing our advance north to the firebase, understood? Bravo-Six, over and out."
The frequency quickly filled up with acknowledgements from his subordinates. A minute later, Parker and his squad collectively felt the IFV turn to the ordered route. Perfect, Parker thought. Maybe he shouldn't have jumped to the Bradly, in the Humvee, he could have perched out to see the whole thing.
"This is Bannon! I have enemy contact! Parker! Get your tanks over here and reinforce us!"
He winced slightly, before lowering the volume to a much more reasonable level. No sooner had Bannon gone off the air, that Col Sawyer came on.
"You belay that order, Parker! Bannon, you will fend for yourself! Parker's mission is to destroy that firebase! It's not your prerogative to give him orders. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir."
The captain meekly replied, although Parker could not see him as he was with Charlie, he was certain Bannon was probably shitting his pants now.
"Any idea of hostile strength in that vineyard Lt?" Sgt Thomas Jones, the NCO of the squad asked from his seat.
"Presumably Infantry, probably anti-armor, possible armor as well." Parker answered.
"You heard? The Sixth Fleet got pounded and destroyed when the aliens landed near Marseilles. Apparently, the plan is we're gonna push them back to the Mediterranean." A private whispered excitedly.
"Ronalds shut the hell up." Jones rebuked the greenhorn. "How the hell did you get by that info huh?"
Before the private could reply, the squad felt the Bradley stop right before an incline before the gunfire began, and the whirr of rotor blades signified a medium attack helicopter, probably a Gazelle, firing on targets. The radio began to crackle with calls of 'contact!' from both his own troops and the small OFN section attached to them. Leaping out of his seat, he grabbed his M16 with its grenade launcher and ran out of the IFV.
As soon as he was out, he saw the situation. The group had indeed stopped before an incline going downhill. They could see the vineyard, with its white chateau, there was a road behind the mansion from where a few trucks of all things with little tank treads where the wheels were. Followed by APCs. From the west, from a small patch of forest, a squad of enemy infantry ran out, guns firing literal lasers like blasters from the Star Wars movies.
"All units engage! Infantry, focus fire on that squad in the woods. Tanks, take out those vehicles!"
The Bradley's and Abrams roared to life, thundering shells downrange as the Gazelle whipped overhead, raking the enemy with cannon fire.
The vehicles were dispatched pretty quickly by the Abrams, Bradly's and the attached OFN unit's Chieftain and Leopard 2 Tanks and Gazelle Medium Attack Choppers. Meanwhile, their combined infantry began to cut down the infantry, who looked humanoid with body armour and winged skulls stamped on some of their gear.
There was the sound of cracks as the enemy infantry responded, shouting in a rough language sounding a bit like Latin, a few unlucky GIs got hit, screaming as their limbs were sliced clean off in a fountain of blood. The Bradley's dispatched the last of these stragglers before a Chieftain closest to the view of the mansion exploded. There were anti-armor units in there.
"Cease fire! Cease fire!"
The sounds soon became less before fading entirely, except for the whir of the Gazelle's helicopter blades. The OFN company's commander, a woman wearing a black beret came up to him, speaking Flemish-accented Edenite.
"What's the plan?"
"There's probably RPG units stationed in the chateau."
The lieutenant nodded, "Seems like it, should we advance."
Parker shook his head. "Too risky, and we still need to take the firebase north of here. I'm calling in an airstrike." He searched his webbing before finding the laser-target designator. Then, he turned the thing on, and an invisible beam, unseen to human eyes was currently being pointed towards the chateau.
Then, he keyed in his radio. "Bravo Six to any air support, I have a laser designated target for you. Chateau complex at Victor-Golf-Ninety-Two, believed to house enemy anti-tank personnel. Request air strike to soften up for further advance, how copy?"
After a tense moment, an accented male voice crackled over the radio. "Bravo Six, this is Hammer Lead, we copy your request. Four F-16s armed and inbound, ETA three mikes. Cleared to engage, paint the target and we'll take it from there. Hammer Lead out."
Lieutenant Parker breathed a small sigh of relief. "Alright you heard them, three minutes to bomb drop. All vehicles, take cover behind that ridge line. Infantries check your dispersion."
The mixed Allied units scrambled to take cover as distant jets rapidly approached. Parker crouched beside the targeting laser, keeping it trained on the enemy-held chateau. Any moment now...
Hammer flight.
Captain Steve Martinetti slowly swung his F-16 around, 3 other's following. Below him, the Francovian countryside was filled smoky wrecks of vehicles.
"Hammer lead to flight, let's make one more pass over the battlefield, then we'll RTB back to base for refuel."
His flight complied, swinging into formation, Martinetti began to increase thrust. They'd already had to dogfight tough enemy air assets and he didn't want to get caught in a long dogfight.
"Bravo Six to any air support, I have a laser-designated target for you. Chateau complex at Victor-Golf-Ninety-Two believed to house enemy anti-tank personnel. Request air strike to soften up for further advance, how copy?"
Martinetti stared at his radio, then at his GPS before he switched over to the radio. "Bravo Six, this is Hammer Lead, we copy your request. Four F-16s armed and inbound, ETA three mikes. Cleared to engage, paint the target and we'll take it from there. Hammer Lead out."
He turned his head to address his wingmen. "Alright boys, we've got a hot one. Target should be laser painted in three minutes, let's stack up for a diving bomb run."
Acknowledgments crackled as the other pilots checked in. Martinetti eased his stick forward, cruising down from their patrol altitude. Below, the countryside was a mix of lush forests and rolling farmland, now marred by spreading plumes of smoke.
The chateau complex soon came into view, nestled amongst grazing pastures and orchards. Nothing moved outside the walls. "Paint's hot, paint's hot," he called out. "Target locked."
"Hammer Three, you're high. Hammer Four, watch for flak. I'm diving in hot on this pass, follow my lead." With that, Martinetti kicked his rudders and shoved the stick forward into a screaming dive.
Airspeed rapidly built as G-forces pushed him into his seat. He fought to keep the pipper aligned on the laser as the ground rushed up in seconds. "Bombs away!" Two Mark 84s dropped free and streaked downrange…
XXX
28th Severnyian Rifles Regiment.
Astra Millitarum,
3rd Company.
8th Platoon
Stationed in a Mainse.
"Good hit!" Captain Kurt Stavros encouraged the guardsman who had fired the Accatran Pattern missile launcher, the trooper was quickly reloading his weapon. All around him, in the vineyard's mainse, the men of the 28th's 3rd company, 8th Platoon were spread out in the mainse's rooms.
They'd landed the day before yesterday, taking this area bloodlessly, and as the armies of the Imperium surged forwards, the 28th had been bringing up the rear. Until today. Never before, in the history of the Imperium had a rebellion reacted so swiftly to His compliance. It seemed his men would get to kill some rebels today!
"Where'd they go?" a voice mused.
"I bet they've run away, filthy cowards and heretics. The planetary governor's probably calling on his xeno benefactors for help." Another answered.
Stavros' thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of aero-engines. Strange, were they theirs? Then a whistling sound began…
Corporal Orlan looked up in alarm as the high-pitched whine grew louder by the second. "Incoming!" he roared to his squad by the east window.
Captain Stavros had just enough time to shout "Take cover!" before the main room erupted in a blinding fireball. The 500lb laser-guided bombs struck with pinpoint accuracy, utterly demolishing the old manor walls.
Orlan was thrown backwards, debris raining down all around him. Through ringing ears he realized he was somehow still alive, though his lasgun was now shattered scrap. Groaning, he rolled over to see utter ruination.
Where proud Guardsmen had stood just moments before, now lay torn and burning corpses. Limbs, torsos, and even whole men were strewn about amidst smouldering rubble. A dazed private near him reached out a pleading hand before slumping still.
Through the smoke, Stavros emerged, face bloodied but somehow on his feet. His vox-bead crackled faintly. "Emperor forgive me, I've failed you..." was all Orlan heard before the Captain too collapsed, life fading from his eyes.
A shape emerged from the inferno - a mere shell of a man, burned beyond recognition, still dragging his melted lasgun. Orlan finished him with a merciful shot as his own las-packs began to cook off in the flames.
Weakly, he dragged himself out into the pastures, watching the manor burn as medics raced to the carnage. The few tanks that were in the courtyard were alight, like molten candles, melted like liquid steel…
Trooper Otto Krause had paused in reloading his missile launcher, staring up at the sky with a frown. Those definitely weren't the droning engines of Imperial Valkyries or Thunderbolts.
His Captain seemed to share his unease. "Battle stations, men. I don't like the sound of-"
Krause never heard the rest over the sudden, howling shriek as four winged shapes flashed overhead. His body reacted on instinct, flinging itself behind the meager cover of a stone wall just as the world exploded.
Concrete and rubble rained down in a choking cloud as Krause struggled to reorient himself. Through the ringing in his ears, he could hear screams and the crackle of flames starting to take hold. Squinting into the dust, he saw only vague forms writhing on the ground.
Captain Stavros, Commissar Bromley, the missile team...all torn apart before his eyes. Slowly, achingly, Krause pushed himself up and fumbled for his lasgun with fingers gone numb. How could this be? They had detected no enemy, received no ultimatum…
XXX
Pulling back hard, Martinetti kicked his afterburners and snapped the F-16 into a tight climbing turn, snapping images of two huge explosions blossoming within the walls. Secondary fires broke out as stored ammunition was caught.
"Splash one bogey, good effect on target!" he called exultantly. Rolling out, he could see the others had followed suit to similar result. Another task well executed by the 'Paint It Black' flight.
"Bravo Six, target is cleaaared hot, you are free to advance. Hammer flight egressing, returning to base. Lead out." With that, Martinetti wheeled north for home, the job here done for now.
XXX
There. Four dark specks zoomed overhead with a shriek of engines, breaking formation as they dove. Each F-16 released a pair of laser-guided bombs which streaked earthward, correcting in flight until they struck home directly on target.
Twin flashes blossomed within the chateau walls, rubble and smoke bursting into the air. Secondary explosions ripped through as stored munitions were caught in the barrage. The bombardment had the desired effect - when the dust settled, the complex was a burning ruin.
"Target destroyed. Thanks for the assist, Hammer flight," Parker radioed. Then he changed the frequency to Sawyer's
"Bravo-Six calling, we've taken the château, you can expand the supply lines. Continuing advance north to enemy firebase. Over"
Sawyer's gravelly voice crackled back immediately. "You continue to impress me, Parker." Then, as if realizing his slip of professionalism, he immediately relapsed back. "Copy that Bravo Six, well done. Supply convoys are already en route to your position. What's the sitrep along your axis of advance?"
Parker surveyed the smoldering ruins and surrounding orchards with his binoculars. "No sign of further enemy resistance in the immediate area sir, but visibility is limited by the trees. Advancing units report all clear so far. Request permission to push on towards the objective."
A brief pause, and then Sawyer came back. "Granted but proceed with caution. Sabatier's scouts detected irregular movements in the foothills north of your location. Could be stragglers, could be something more. I want that firebase blind and bleeding ASAP, understood?"
"Loud and clear sir. We'll root them out. Bravo Six out." Parker lowered his binos and turned to the gathered officers. "Alright everyone, you heard the man. First Platoon will take point, stay alert, and watch those flanks. Barnes, drop green smoke to allow our reinforcements to land via chopper Second Platoon will follow in support. I want regular comms check-ins every five mikes. Move out!"
The combined force busied itself quickly, Barnes priming the green smoke grenade that would tell the choppers where the LZ was. Within a few minutes, Blackhawks, Super Stallion and Chinooks roared above, landing and dropping the rest of Bravo company's infantry and armor. The combined force pressed north once more, vehicles prowling steadily up the dirt track cutting through neatly-tended rows of vines. Small patrols filtered out occasionally to sweep adjoining foliage for any hostile activity.
So far so good - but an unseen threat lingered out there. And the closer they drew to the aliens' hardened positions, the greater the chance of unexpected resistance. Parker kept a tight grip on his rifle, eyes and ears straining for the first sign of trouble...
Over the radio, Sawyer contacted Charlie Coy, "Bannon come in! I want you to send a platoon to guard the vineyard."
Bannon's reply was almost instant, maybe even slightly whiny: "This is Bannon! Couldn't Parker use his own units for that, sir?"
"Negative Bannon. Parker will need all his units to complete his objectives."
"I'm sure he will sir." Bannon's reply was sarcastic, "I'll send Third Platoon. Bannon out."
Imperial Headquarters.
42 miles behind lines.
Countess General Cassandra Rodion.
The countess general casually sipped her tea from a porcelain cup. She then turned her attention to the terminal in front of her. The situation was surprising, to say the least. At 0630 hours, massed artillery had opened fire on her lines, followed by ground forces supported by rotorcraft. Then her forces guarding her northern approach stationed at a vineyard reported contact but hadn't said anything since. All things pointed to an offensive of a large scale.
Around her, vox operators were fiddling with their sets, as panicked calls for support came through. Rodion set down her tea calmly. "Lieutenant, relay my orders. All units in the threatened sectors are to disengage and fall back in an orderly manner. Concentrate our lines around defensible terrain features and establish gun emplacements to cover an retreat. I want regular status updates every ten minutes, no excuses."
"Yes Countess General!" The officer snapped a crisp salute before turning to his vox station. Rodion nodded in approval - panic and chaos would only serve the enemy. She needed a cool head to analyze this new development.
"Lord General Korinov, status report. What in the name of the Throne is happening out there?"
Korinov's voice issued from the speaker, strained yet still maintaining composure. "Apologies Countess, communications have been disrupted. It seems we face a well-coordinated enemy assault along our entire northern front. Artillery barrages destroyed several strongpoints, followed by combined armor and infantry attacks."
Rodion's eyes narrowed. Such organized tactics were unheard of for mere planetary rebels. "Have you detected any xenos involvement? Their technology and strategy suggest outside aid."
"Unclear as yet, but a definite possibility. We're attempting to regain the initiative but they've gained significant ground. Shall I commence counterattacks or withdraw to secondary lines?"
She pondered briefly. Extracting now risked losing valuable territory and resources. But a larger threat may be at work here worth investigating further.
"Fall back in good order to this headquarters' position. I shall join you shortly with reinforcements. In the meantime, deploy long range sensors and scouts to intercept any aerial or orbital incursion. Rodion out."
Cutting the line, she rose and strode purposefully towards the exit. This new enemy had made the critical error of underestimating an Astra Militarum commandant.
However, no sooner had she gotten out. No sooner had she exited, that her lieutenant began to shout.
"Countess General! Urgent vox from Col Frond at Firebase Vulkan!" Rodion's eyes widened as she whipped her head back. Firebase Vulkan? That was impossible.
"How! Our sensor relays would have reported any armoured push towards the firebase! How did they stay hidden?"
"We never thought the rebels could push this deep, but a mixed force assaulted the vineyard first, obliterating it and continued onwards."
"From which direction did the battlegroup come from?" Rodion snapped to her aide. "Pull up a real-time tactical holomap, now!"
A flickering projection sprang to life, showing the northern battlespace in minute detail. She watched intently as markers indicating enemy force movements blinked steadily north from their onset near the now-silent vineyard.
"By the Throne..." she breathed. They had slipped right past extensive defensive positions to assault Firebase Vulkan from an unexpected angle, avoiding interdiction fire along the way. Such strategic cunning was uncharacteristic of feral planetary rebels. The lieutenant pored frantically over sensor readouts and tactical maps. "All indications are they advanced swiftly along this southern woodland route, ma'am, avoiding major populated zones."
His finger traced the dotted path. "Starting some 50 kilometers from Vulkan, they engaged sparse resistance at this vineyard location before pushing on within the hour. Even accounting for short artillery bombardments and infantry skirmishes, their armored columns maintained an average speed of over 60 kilometers per hour through difficult terrain."
Rodion's eyes narrowed dangerously. No ragtag rebellion possessed such mobility, coordination or disregard for civilian areas. This bore the stench of xenos sorcery at work.
"And you've detected no aerial, orbital or warp anomalies? No unnatural fog banks, gravitational distortions?" she demanded. Total material explanation seemed unlikely.
The lieutenant shook his head helplessly. "Sensors report only standard vehicle emissions and firearms discharged ma'am. But I swear, no mere rebels could move like this without witchery!"
She growled deep in her throat. While technology may elude them, this day's events reeked of alien influence. And aliens meant only one thing - heretics aiding enemies of the Emperor.
"Recall all nearby reinforcements. We must counterattack at Vulkan before these vermin dig in further. And send word to any passing Battlegroups - an Exterminatus may be required here before this infection spreads."
Enemy Air Attack!" a guardsman shouted suddenly, forcing Rodion and the lieutenant to look upwards...
XXX
Escadron de Chasse 1/7 Provence
Francovian Armee d'air
Sous-Lieutenant Marcel Berneau accelerated his SPECAT Jaguar. Just minutes prior, radar operators had finally caught the signal emissions, the big ones, meaning an enemy headquarters. The aliens had blundered this time.
"Allez vous!" the flight leader, Capitaine Doummaunt cried. There! A massive grey prefab complex, and it seemed like they'd caught the AA defenses with their pants down.
Capitaine Doummaunt switched his radio to the squadron tactical frequency. "All callsigns, this is Eagle One. Radar contact bearing two-three-zero, probable enemy command node. Striking targets of opportunity only, civilian structures in vicinity. Eagle Flight will take point, engage any air defenses. Jaguar and Mirage flights, follow for bomb and missile runs. Eagle One out."
Beside him, Sous-Lieutenant Berneau acknowledged tightly as he jinked his Jaguar into formation. Their SPECTs still registered as basic multirole fighters to enemy sensors, relying on speed and maneuverability.
Ahead, the complex slid into view amidst rolling farm fields. Berneau glimpsed AAA emplacements swinging to track them but it was too late. Eagle Flight swooped with a howl of engines, loosing AAMs. Anti-air guns exploded under precision fire.
"Cibles détruites, vous êtes libres d'engager." Doummaut's report crackled through. Berneau triggered his releases, letting a pair of laser-guided bombs drop then kicking hard to evade. Below, precisely placed warheads tore apart armor and infrastructure.
Secondary fires took hold as secondary explosions ripped through munitions stockpiles. Thick black smoke roiled upwards, obscuring the fray. Berneau cruised into a wide orbit, scanning for survivors fleeing the inferno. Target designation shifts flickered across his HUD from the controllers.
With practiced ease his JDAM steered to the mark and exploded with surgical precision. Another, and another. Soon only corpses and ruins remained of the headquarters below…
XXX
Rodion coughed. Her ears were ringing. Her lieutenant was shouting something though her sight was hazy. There was a roar, the lieutenant tackled her to the ground, the aircraft passed overhead again but no attack came.
Surprisingly, there was very little damage, the bombs had caused huge explosions...maybe those bombs were psyche warfare. Standing up, she removed dust from her shulders, only to notice one thing. Her long range transcivers, sensors, auspex and essentially her entire comm net building was smoking.
"Frak!" she swore, rushing into the building. Maybe some of the sensors survived, maybe... damn it.
She had sustained minimal casualties, but what good was that going to do if her entire force was now blind? The best thing she could do now was hunker down and hope for the best. She stalked from the ruined comms building, fury writ plain across her stern features. Around her, guardsmen scrambled to douse electrical fires and triage the wounded.
Amidst the chaos her aide saluted hastily. "Countess General! All long-range communications arrays are non-functioning, along with over half our sensor grid. We're effectively blind beyond 20 kilometers in all directions."
She snarled a potent curse. To lose eyes and ears at such a critical juncture threatened disaster. Worse, this attack hinted at an adversary familiar enough with their procedures to cripple command coordination.
"Dispatch riders to all outlying formations. Order them to dig in and go to ground awaiting further instructions. And have the armorers ready anti-aircraft missile batteries for immediate deployment," Rodion barked, her mind already committing contingencies to long-term memory.
Weakness would not be tolerated, but neither would reckless endangerment of remaining forces. For now they must conceal their true strength until the situation stabilized. And when the time came to strike back...
Her blue gaze grew cold as ice under pale brows. "Dispatch a vox-caster team to the secondary site at once. I must speak to higher command. Inform them we face a threat beyond any rebellion's power, one that strikes at the heart of command itself."
Her aide saluted and departed at a run. Rodion turned her regard back to the charred ruins, resolve hardening like plas-steel. These rebels would learn to fear Imperial retribution this day.
XXX
"Alright people let's move! If your weapon isn't functional, take a laser gun and ammo from an enemy corpse!"
The men and woman of Bravo company grumbled good naturedly but followed Parker's orders. The OFN unit meanwhile had repaired most of its tanks thanks to the field repair truck. Bannon, true to his word had sent Charlie Company's 3rd Platoon to hold the vineyard. Parker and Bravo company as well as the OFN unit began to advance down the winding road. The firebase was still a few clicks away, on high ground overlooking the cliffs to the sea, they also had a lighthouse.
The few prisoners Bravo company had taken were blackened, and utterly miserable. They were handed over to Third Platoon, who would send them to the rear for interrogation.
They had only traveled a kilometer further when the advance guard radios crackled. "Bravo Six, this is Second Squad, we've got movement in the treeline eighty meters north, multiple targets."
Parker raised his binos and scanned the forest edge. Nothing obvious yet, but those trees provided perfect cover for an ambush. "Second Squad hold position, First Squad get up here on the double. Tanks eyes front, infantry spread out and watch our flanks."
No sooner had the orders been given than weapons fire erupted from the treeline, accompanied by an unearthly warbling scream. Laser bolts zipped through the air as soldiers emerged, wielding energy weapons.
"Contact left, contact right! Engage at will!" Parker roared. His M16 bucked as he loosed 40mm grenades, the explosions throwing aliens back ablaze. Allied tanks rumbled into action, main guns blazing.
It quickly became a close-quarters melee as more aliens swarmed from the woods. Parker grappled an alien hand-to-hand, slamming the butt of his rifle into its visor time and again until it slumped.
Heaving for breath, he assessed the situation - two Bradley's down but the rest of the company seemed to have the upper hand. "Push forward! Don't let them regroup in those trees!"
One of the Abrams tanks lanced a HE shell into the trees, a cacophony of screaming and groans came. The Abrams coaxial opened up, roaring. Red tracer rounds lit up the area.
From the left, an unlucky alien infantryman got whacked hard in the face by a SAW, the humanoid screamed, clutching its helmeted face before the SAW gunner fired a burst into its chest.
Another private, Jackson, Parker remembered, got his head turned into mush, Parker shot his killer before he had a chance to reload.
The forest's here were had pale orange leaves, with white trunks. It was a beautiful place, Parker thought as he snapped a burst at a charging enemy. It hit the head, causing the infantryman's head to snap backwards mid battle cry as its feet left the ground and went in the air for a few moments before landing roughly on the ground. There's a beat of silence as the enemy combatants either drop or flee into the woods. Parker sighs, checking his weapon is still functional as medics rush to triage the wounded.
"All units sound off, report status," he calls into the radio. A chorus of acknowledgments buzzes back, along with damage assessments - two Bradleys down but repairable, a handful of walking wounded. Not too bad considering.
Nearby, the OFN commander approached. "My troops saw vehicles heading north, perhaps towards your objective. Shall we pursue?"
Parker considers, gazing towards the trails of smoke now rising amidst the treeline. A larger fight surely awaited at the firebase, but losing the enemy's van could prove decisive.
He makes his choice. "Affirmative, have your motorized companies push on. We'll follow as soon as our vehicles are patched up. Call in fires if you make contact, I want them softened up for the final push."
As Allied armor rumbles into motion once more, Parker takes a swig from his canteen. The aliens had proven dangerous close up but seemed to lack true combined arms coordination. Still, underestimating them could prove fatal.
He keys the radio. "Eagle Six, Bravo Six. We're proceeding on course but encountered heavier resistance than expected. Request artillery and air support stand by, might need it for the finishing blow. Out."
Sawyer's reply was instant. "This is Eagle Six. Parker. We've just learned that E.T. is holding captured AA vehicles near the lighthouse. You should try and recapture them. And watch where you call in your fire support, so you don't hit them by mistake lieutenant."
Parker groaned. The combined force just burst out of the trees, he could see the light house on the high ground and what looked like Gephard Flakpanzers. But first they had to deal with the small position, made up of namely 3 hardened hangers, and defended mostly by ill proportioned tanks.
Parker observed the position thoughtfully through his binoculars. Sawyer had a point - with their own AA capabilities intact, future air support could become much more flexible.
He switched to the tactical net. "Bravo Six to all units. Objective is to capture enemy AA assets at that lighthouse intact. I want precision fires on those hangars to soften them up without risking the hardware. OFN commander, can your Leo 2s hit those targets?"
Acknowledgment crackled back affirmatively. Good, their 120mm smoothbores could do the job. "Be advised, our vehicles are marked. Open fire."
Thunderous booms echoed as high-explosive shells screamed in, slamming precisely through hangar doors and walls. Secondary detonations rippled out from within.
When the dust settled, two hangars were collapsed heaps of rubble. The third hung onto structural integrity by a thread. "All units advance and secure the remaining structures. Move with caution, enemy forces may still be active in the rubble."
Bravo Company and OFN armor crept steadily closer under covering fire. Laser sights snapped on as Infantry stacked up, ready to breach. A final ranging shot from a Bradley, then Parker gave the order.
"Breaching teams, go!" Explosions blew holes in the damaged hangar. Rifle-mounted flashbangs strobing blindingly, Infantry moved inside. Only scattered resistance remained within - the precision bombardment had done its work.
"Area secure, no major casualties reported," Parker soon heard over the comms. Now came the hard part. The artillery he'd called in had hopefully destroyed any enemy presence near the AA vehicles, now they just had to advance upwards. He looked at his watch: 3PM. They were still on schedule.
"C'mon guys lets go! We gotta take that firebase! Everyone is counting on us to shut that Arty up now!"
Parker stopped himself and listened. The entire battlefield was filled with gunfire and the sound of engines. The soldiers quickly set about reloading their weapons, drinking from their canteens or just sitting down or talking among themselves. Parker didn't sit down with them. Removing his helmet, revealing dark brown hair that was slicked with sweat. Parker walked to the smoking remains of the alien position, a strange mix of concrete and church.
It looked utterly dystopian. Everywhere he looked, there were stained glass windows (shattered) and posters declaring some slogan. There was a golden double headed eagle that lay on the ground to his left, collapsed. He couldn't help but think of the eagles and axes that he'd seen from old pictures of the second great war his grandfather had shown him, Ulraznavian troops slamming their booted feet on the fascist symbols, the destruction of the nation of Wostria as a state.
He shook his head, removing those thoughts. He needed to focus. He needed to be calm. Sighing, he slammed his helmet back on his head and walked back to where his men were, he couldn't afford to think back. As he did, he noticed how one of the eagle's heads was buried, leaving one upright. Parker realized how utterly lonely it looked. Parker let out a long breath. Around him, the ruined enemy base smoldered, its defenses crushed beneath high-caliber shells.
Yet in the midst of the wreckage sat that solitary eagle head, staring wordlessly up at the smog-shrouded sky. Somehow it didn't seem like a mere scrap of bent metal anymore. In that moment, Parker couldn't help but imagine what might be going through its figurative mind.
"Well buddy, bet you never thought this day would come, huh?" he muttered, crouching down to study the crude yet somehow emotive features. "All your big plans for galactic domination, and here we are putting the kibosh on the whole operation on Day-2, hopefully..."
A fraction of a smile tugged at his grimy face as he thought of smugly rubbing it in to his poli-sci professor back at State. "'Despite your fearsome reputation, turns out you're not so tough without that other head backing you up. What's that? You wouldn't know anything about teamwork?'"
Of course, the eagle remained silent, but Parker liked to think he detected a hint of low-key resentment in that lone eye socket. After all, it was just sitting there witnessing humanity triumph over its masters in a way it never could have anticipated.
"Ah, don't feel too bad about it though. We all have our off days, right buddy?" With a clap on its bent wing, Parker rose and rejoined his waiting force. His NCO gave him a quizzical look but didn't ask. He simply mounted the Humvee and gave the signal. The column moved forwards.
The ride upwards saw the vehicles slow down a bit. Visibility was a bit low due to their on arty barrage. The Gephards were swiftly recaptured with trucks bringing up extra OFN personel. The Chieftain MBTs destroyed two tanks that were trying to escape.
They were going to advance upwards when the sound of artillery was heard.
"Get down!"
Everyone went prone, parker included. The arty continued firing for a few minutes. Not at them, but at Commandant Sabatier's troops downwards. Parker motioned for 3 infantrymen to join him, to Concordians, and a Kerch member of the OFN unit. Stealthily, they moved forward to peek at the firebase.
A makeshift runaway had been made from which VTOLs were landing with supplies and equipment. 6 structures of various sizes were dispersed over the small area. A full artillery battery was on the edge, firing away. Two clunky tanks guarded the frontal passage-no problem. The lighthouse had a few snipers and pickets, while a radar and comm set of some kind was at the very back, dish spinning. Having seen enough, Parker nodded to the other three and they snuck back down together. The force was stopped at a reasonable distance from where it coud remain hidden, and everyone had shut of their engines. Parker quickly briefed them on what he'd observed.
"Alright, guys, the good news is their defenses aren't too dense. Bad news, that arty battery will rain hell on us if we go stomping up without dealing with it first. Here's the plan - OFN armor will hit that battery hard and fast from long range. While they're distracted, our snipers will engage targets of opportunity.
"On their signal, the infantry assaults will hit each structure simultaneously. I want bounding overwatch, no heroics. First objective is total artillery suppression, then we mop up the leftovers and shut down that command center. Commo, keep Sawyer in the loop. Questions?"
A few hands signaled minor clarifications which Parker addressed succinctly. Finally, he slapped the side of a parked M1A1. "Alright boys, time to send these bastards packing. Lock and load!"
As one, the combined Allied force readied themselves with the practiced efficiency of old comrades. Atop the hill, the aliens likely felt secure in their high ground defenses. But Parker knew surprise and speed of action would shift the odds heavily in his favor here today.
On his mark, the lead tanks launched their main guns in a sustained barrage. Parker triggered his radio. "Go go go!" Infantry rose as one, sprinting up the slope amidst precision supporting fire.
A shrill whistle sound was heard as the infantry moved. The tanks meanwhile slammed fire into the artillery battery. The gunners had ammunition lying near them, which cooked of spectacularly. The VTOLs crews reacted and tried to get away but were still refueling under the watchful eyes of some red robed cyborg, who was dispatched swiftly with a grenade launched by parker's M16A2.
He noticed one of the VTOL pilots, struggle to lean out of his cockpit, hand swiftly drawing a pistol. He was helmetless, a human (it had been seen that all the enemy were humans) with sandy hair and a very old fashioned, 1940s style pilot handlebar mustache. But the tightness of the canopy made it a lot harder for him to aim.
Parker pulled the trigger, M16 bucking as a burst of bullets hit the pilot straight in the head. The blood stained the plexiglass as the man's body fell and disappeared back into the cockpit.
The co-pilot, a younger girl clad in full flight gear and helmet, but no mask took a few pot shots at him with her sidearm as she was a bit more successful at leaning out.
Parker grimaced and ducked behind the VTOL's landing gear for cover. The girl was a crack shot for being under duress, her lasers sizzling through the air.
He peeked out to return fire, only for his magazine to click empty. Cursing, he slammed another in and toggled his radio. "Need some suppressing fire on the east VTOL, pilot's got me pinned!"
A staccato reply echoed as an M4 opened up from the adjacent structure, G3 rounds zinging past in support. Seeing their chance, Parker leaned out and loosed controlled pairs at the pilot's canopy.
His efforts were rewarded with a spiderweb of cracks spreading outwards. The girl flinched back instinctively, helmet visor fractured but still intact. Their eyes met briefly through the fractal lacquers, hers wide with fear and resignation.
Then a stray round must have found a critical system. The VTOL erupted in a ball of orange flame that consumed cockpit and pilot alike. Parker threw an arm up to shield his face from the blistering heat.
When he looked again, nothing remained but a burning hulk. He let out a long breath and tapped his radio. "East VTOL is down, good effect on target. Advancing to next objective..."
Sawyer then came on the air "Lieutenant. You've entered the camp. Destroy all enemy artillery vehicles in sight."
Sabatier joined in as well, "And we would prefer if you did it at once. My men are suffering here!"
Parker answered back, "Bravo-six to Foxtrot and Eagle-Six. Tanks are currently eliminating artillery guns."
"Parker! Be careful when you approach the hill. They'll have fighting positions set up on the forward slope with the advantage of elevation."
"Sir, shouldn't the lieutenant know this stuff already? I mean, West Point graduate and all that?"
Parker snorted at Bannon's jab, he chuckled when the Col responded in kind.
"I do not appreciate sarcasm from my subordinates, captain. You mind your own business until told otherwise, understood?"
"Yes sir, sorry sir." Bannon's apology wasn't believable that much.
"Don't be sorry captain. Just do your job!" Sawyer irritably snapped back.
Parker grinned, he'd already taken the small firebase, well most of it and even had a fully intact enemy VTOL...
"Contact!"
Gunfire broke out behind him intermixed with the cracking hiss of lasers. Turning back, he saw a small, squad sized force had ambushed 2nd platoon. They were led by an officer with close cut hair, and a prosthetic eye on his face as he screamed in his guttural tongue, which seemed disturbing when such a sound was coming from human lips.
"Lieutenant! You're being ambushed by E.T. infantry hiding in the forest! Call in some napalm on these bastards." Sawyer said.
"Roger Eagle-Six! Calling in Napalm!"
Parker grimaced as lasers zipped past, his men returning fire in disciplined volleys. Even outnumbered, Second Platoon was giving better than they got thanks to training and cover positions.
Yet it was clear the enemy force wasn't breaking, spurred on by their enhanced commander. A targeted airstrike could swiftly change the tide in their favor.
He triggered his radio. "Foxtrot Six-Four, this is Bravo Six. My people are engaged in the northern woodline, request immediate napalm support on my position, will illuminate with orange smoke."
Within moments a voice crackled back. "Bravo Six, Foxtrot Six-Four copies all. Ordnance is hot, just say the word."
Grabbing a smoke canister, Parker pulled the pin and hurled it high. As it arced downward engulfed in flame, he barked "Foxtrot Six-Four, fire for effect!"
Seconds later a roaring jet screamed past, dropping its payload across the treeline with unerring accuracy. Searing napalm spilled into the midst of the enemy forces as the agent ignited on contact.
Agonized screams rent the air, cut short almost as quickly by the suffocating blaze. Parker watched grimly as the inferno consumed all within grounding range, the remaining aliens breaking and fleeing in panic.
"You should deal with those soldiers in the woods. Burn them out like cockroaches!" Sabatier said over the radio,
"Second Platoon, advance and mop up any survivors. Area is secured, thanks for the fire support."