1-2: Walking the Beat
May 1, 2019 (Local Time: 1105)
Eastern Spring Sea
Nearly eleven-hundred feet of deck lay before young Sean as he drifted towards it. OFS Falcon (CVN-37) had been his home the past two months in the "surprise war" over southern Usea. Falcon hadn't even been scheduled to join the IUN mission but the carrier on station, Albatross, had broken one of her screws. So instead of helping fight piracy in the Inner Verusean Sea, they were helping bring stability to Usea.
"Ram 309, call the ball."
It was the voice of VFA-197's LSO "Ladyhawke" Buchanan. Probably the best at giving "sugar talk" as the Landing Signal Officer's instructions were called. It was a bit embarrassing that she was being brought on, because he'd already boltered once. Sean looked to the optical landing system and saw an orange light following his movements.
"Ram 309 ball; state is 2.7." Sean replied.
"Copy…okay, power…keep it on the glideslope."
Sean's eyes darted between his controls and the outside world. The remnants of a storm had the sea a bit choppy. The "meatball" had a bit of bounce to it as a result. Sean took any advice that Ladyhawke gave as the gospel.
"Ease it up…little more…hold it there."
Easier said than done, but Sean knew Ladyhawk wasn't asking for him to just freeze. He moved in tune with the pitching of the deck, even as his heart rate peaked. The coveted three-wire stretched across the deck like the finish line at a marathon.
"In the grooooove…looks good!"
Sean swooped down onto the deck and hit the gas as he felt his wheels touch solid ground. The tailhook snagged the desired wire and he eased up as he felt the tension. The adrenaline rush peaked, then started its steady decline as he was waved out of the way. His ground crew was waiting amongst other Hornets from their outfit. A short, lanky man with a mustache led the gaggle of young sailors over to push the F-18 back into its spot. Aviation Structural Mechanic 2nd Class Solomon Brozda pulled down the boarding ladder and hurried up to meet his pilot.
"Eventful day, sir?" He asked.
"About 99% punching holes in the sky interrupted by 1% of excitement." Sean replied somewhat clumsily.
As soon as he'd powered down, the details of their mission returned to him. Especially getting shot at; the militia had put up a lot of missiles this time. Had it been bait? Ambush a convoy to draw in aircraft? Then shoot them down and capture the pilot? Sean shook his head. No, he scolded himself, he was overthinking it.
"Come on, sir, you did wrestling in school right? You look like you just tried to ask a girl's dad if you could date her." Solomon chuckled.
"Two very different worlds, Brozda. Two very different worlds." Sean replied with a smile.
He exhaled and felt some of the tension escape with it. Pirate was striding across the rain-swept deck. He watched the junior man get down to the deck and extended a hand.
"Good job suggesting we hit the roadblock, Swamp." He said.
"Weren't nothin, Pirate." Sean replied as he accepted the gesture.
"It's something to me. It tells me that you're listening, learning. Applying what we did during our week at Strike U."
"See now sir, respectfully, you're blowin a bit of sunshine up my butt."
"I'm blowing some up mine, too; you're my responsibility."
Two more familiar faces approached: the second half of the squadron's contribution to the morning launch. Lieutenants Tom Horace and Melissa Gannon each gave a polite nod before anyone spoke.
"Drop anything, Whopper?" Pirate asked.
"We hit a building shooting at an aid convoy up by Magda, but nothing else." Tom replied.
"Take any fire from MANPADS?"
"Three, maybe four launches. Two of 'em went ballistic." Melissa shrugged.
"We had a single STK, but the patrol we were supporting knocked it out." Her wingman added.
The four glanced over as another Super Hornet came aboard. Sean glanced up after he felt a few drops of rain land on his head.
"Best we get down to the ready room. Don't wanna keep The Twins waiting." Whopper noted.
Pirate immediately turned towards the edge of the deck and led his junior off to their debriefing. The two descended into the confines of the carrier, where the smells of metal and ever-fresh paint were present every step. Sean naturally hunched over despite having plenty of room. Compared to his serious everyman of a lead, Sean was a big guy. His short, messy mop of auburn hair and freckled face tended to bely that imposing size, though. He tried his best to stay close; Pirate liked to start discussing things before they even sat down.
"They threw a lot of Strelas at us today." He noted as they navigated the maze of passageways.
"More toys from their sugar daddy, I suppose." Sean guessed.
Pirate decided that it was for the intelligence people to decide as they passed sailors on their way someplace else. Sean nodded in agreement and, before he could dwell on it, noted they'd done very well against all the shots fired their way. It still lent some credence to his ambush theory, though. Despite his initial reluctance, he decided he wanted to mention it. Maybe Pirate would like that he was thinking more. Before he could open his mouth, though, they reached a familiar door. A blue circle on the center bore the stylized image of a red-eyed mountain goat above a ribbon reading "STRKFITRON TWENTY-SIX". The two walked into the ready room of VFA-26, The Ragin Rams, where a small gaggle of their fellow aviators were gathered. Fellow "Jay Gee" Maria Vasquez approached Sean and raised her fists. Sean did the same and shadowboxed a second or two before she shook her head.
"Remember, Swamp: boom, boom, BOOM." She said, choreographing her jabs slowly.
"Zap, all I gotta do at this point is this." Sean replied, hovering a palm over her forehead.
"Yeah, an all I gotta do is this."
She pretended to punch him in the crotch and the two laughed. They went through a few more fake punches until Pirate handed his wingman a gripe sheet. He walked to the front row of seats, where the aforementioned Twins sat. True to their shared title, VFA-26's Intelligence Officers, Lieutenants Lt. Andy Pryce and Corey Adrian, looked almost the same. Pryce was the tall Matt Lillard with a mustache and Adrian was the short, bespectacled Matt Lillard Sean reminded himself. To his surprise, Commander Tyler Crockett was also present. He went a bit rigid but managed to remind himself not to salute.
"Afternoon, Skipper! Here to listen to us debrief or just surveying your kingdom?" Pirate said.
"A little of both. Zap always makes good conversation and I understand both elements dropped bombs today. I wanted to see the results." The short, stock redhead grinned.
He looked at Sean as the young man filled out his sheet and cleared his throat.
"Thawing away the ice, Swamp?" He added.
"Doing my best, sir. Shoulda seen Pirate; he was gushing about me like my dad did when I won state two years in a row."
"Yeah yeah, cause like I said all my hard work was paying off." Pirate snorted.
"Well let's see if that's true or not. Swamp, we'll go through your tape first."
Sean chuckled and nodded in resignation.
"Yes sir."
For everything that was new to him, young Sean Guidry had quickly adapted to one thing: the bond that forms between those in the service. When all was said and done, the first place Sean went was the Junior Officers' Quarters. It was one of the more complex places to get to, but he was confident that he was getting closer to memorizing the route each time he went through it. Privacy was at a premium aboard any ship, and his rack was one of the few places Sean could get it. Especially when he wanted to talk to a certain someone...
Second Lieutenant Bruno Mulder was certain he could've won this confrontation. Even before he'd received orders to the 11th Mechanized Battalion, the Ustian officer had spent years training how to lead soldiers into battle. He could deploy amongst the woods and pincer the smaller force while his CV9030s punched through the pile of rocks and logs. The problem was, like it so often was in Ugellas, that he wasn't here to lead soldiers into battle. The man standing opposite him growled the same sentence as before in his native tongue.
"He's reiterating his demand to search the vehicles, Lieutenant. To ensure that fugitives aren't being smuggled out of his jurisdiction." His translator, Corporal Victor Kryscew, explained.
"My answer remains the same, Corporal." Bruno replied.
That answer was no, and Bruno was growing increasingly frustrated. The unshaven local HAD been a constable at one point, but he still wore his jacket like he was one. He also had a faint smell of alcohol about him. He had to be wielding some kind of authority besides the AK in his grip, though. With him were several younger men, all armed with automatic weapons of varied origin. Each time he was looking for confrontation, they'd follow him out of town and set up a crude roadblock. Most times they would bow to the patrols after some saber-rattling. This time they'd brought a couple of RPGs and an old B-10 recoilless gun. Buno looked at the other men, then back at the leader.
"Corporal, please tell this man that I can stand here all day and go back and forth. The answer will remain "no", and if he wants to fight then I will defend myself as will this platoon."
The militiaman got louder now. Bruno forced himself to stay calm and treated the Corporal's replies as if they were coming from the militiaman himself. Kryscew's calmer tone helped.
"This is our territory. You have no authority here."
"We've been given the authority by the government of Ugellas and the International Union of Nations under IUN Resolution 25187."
"We do not recognize the authority of either of these."
"What authority do you wield?"
"The authority vested in me by the citizens of Mileka."
"As far as I understand, they revoked your authority."
That hit a nerve. The man took a step forward, revealing two rows of poorly-kept teeth as he snarled his indignation. Bruno's grip tightened on his SIG 556 while the troops inside his track, sticking out from the back hatches, tensed.
"Well, erm, besides the impolite language…he says that's not true. His authority has been returned to him by a provisional council formed with the support of the Ugellean Reformation Brigade."
"I do not recognize their authority."
The man was unstoppable in his tirade now, and it was putting Bruno on edge. Confident none of the militiamen could speak Ustich, he keyed his radio to tell his men to be ready to deploy from their tracks. He ordered the rear half of the convoy to deploy amongst the trees on either side of the road. His second-in-command, Sergeant First Class Cornelis Backer, also had something to say.
"Sir, Headquarters on the radio."
Bruno and his translator backed away from the man under the cover of their platoon. The ex-cop had caught himself and was watching with a growing scowl as two of the 9030s fanned out. Bruno climbed up into the turret of his vehicle and switched helmets once inside.
"Go for Bravo 3 Actual." He said as he looked over his GPS's display.
"Bravo 3 Actual this is Bravo 6, Checkpoint Lisa reports you're late. Request a SITREP…everything alright out there, Bruno?" Captain Dolf Van Koning asked.
"Bravo 6 this is Bravo 3 Actual, we've encountered a roadblock along Route Emerald. Ten men, automatic weapons and light anti-tank weapons."
"Have they fired on you?"
"No. They're demanding to search my platoon's vehicles for, quote, Eruesean fugitives."
"Understood, uh standby."
Bruno understood the Captain's confusion. He looked at alternate routes but found few. The former lawman may have come off as a hotheaded oaf, but he'd picked the place to stage this confrontation well. The two-lane road they were on weaved through a densely-packed area of woods and hills. There was barely enough room to stick his vehicles onto the side so they'd have more firepower pointing ahead. It reminded him a lot of Solis Ortus. He switched to his vehicle helmet and keyed the radio.
"Bravo 3 Actual this is Bravo 6." Captain Van Koning spoke up.
"Go for Bravo 3." Bruno replied.
"Bravo 3, ah, our IUN liaison suggests requesting they dismantle the roadblock, then allowing them to look into the troop compartments of your vehicles."
"Yes sir."
Bruno swallowed the sigh rising up from his chest and pushed his hatch open again.
"Want me to fire a warning shot at him, Lieutenant?" His gunner asked.
"I want you to, Jansen, but then we'd get in trouble." The officer replied with the ghost of a smile.
He descended and brought Kryscew back to the militia leader, who was now smirking widely. He spoke like he was scolding a child after they did something he'd warned against.
"After you remove the roadblock, you will be allowed to look inside the rear compartment of each vehicle." Bruno said.
The words caused the smile to vanish. After that it was back to the yelling.
"He says that he must be allowed to conduct a full inspection of the vehicles, then he will open the road to us." Kryscew said.
"That's as far as I am willing to go. Tell him I am certain he realizes that he's in a situation where he has no real leverage. I will ask him once more, then I will request permission from my superiors to remove the roadblock myself."
Bruno couldn't help but let a bit of his anger and frustration out. When the man started waving his AKS in Bruno's direction, he nearly shouldered his SIG. The other militia seemed to be getting cold feet, save for the man next to the B-10. He inched closer to his weapon's sight, but kept his moves slow.
"Sir!" Jansen called.
Bruno looked at the young man and hurried over when beckoned. The gunner set his maps on top of the turret and followed a thin line through the hills to the south.
"If HQ will let us, this route would tack on maybe an extra five minutes. Know we've got a patrol route and all…" He explained.
"...And since we can't shoot these troublemakers." He added.
Bruno started considering the idea, and realized it was probably the most graceful way to disengage from this situation. He patted Jansen on the shoulder and switched helmets to use the radio again.
"Good idea…Bravo 6 this is Bravo 3, be advised that they're refusing to dismantle the roadblock. We've found an alternate route around; expect a five-to-ten minute delay. Orders?" He reported.
He looked back at the roadblock as the man continued to stand in front of it defiantly. Van Koning was back with him after another few minutes.
"Bravo 3, you need to dismantle the roadblock. We need to keep that road clear for humanitarian aid. Inform the commander that if he still doesn't accept your offer, you have permission to detain him, his men, and clear the roadblock by force."
"Be advised, they're aiming a recoilless rifle in our direction."
"Understood, ah, standby again…"
Bruno decided to try asking one more time. He didn't expect anything to change, and he wanted to let the Captain know that. His professional pride caught up with him the longer he looked at the militiaman staring at him. Once again, he approached the portly fellow to go through the same song and dance.
"He still refuses, sir." Krsycew relayed.
"...Then let him know that we may have to engage the roadblock. It's blocking the flow of aid through this area."
The militiaman laughed at that, to which Bruno visibly bristled. He let out another loud guffaw, and for a second Bruno wanted to sock the man in the jaw. Instead, he motioned to his vehicle and his number two. The laughing stopped as two squads of Ustian infantrymen dismounted and set up a skirmish line. The remaining CV90s backed up and deployed to the sides, then disgorged their infantry. Suddenly the head militiaman was waving his arms and shouting again.
"Uh sir, he says that they agree to dismantle the roadblock." The Corporal relayed hurriedly.
Bruno stopped for a second and stared at the man. The Ugellean waved his men to the side of the road, weapons and all, and pointed at the pile of logs.
"He agrees, but we have to do it."
Bruno took another second to think, then nodded.
"Very well."
He wasn't going to push it anymore. He kept his third and fourth vehicles out where they were, then shouted for his men to come forward and move side the logs. Others would provide security. The militia remained, and as it became clear there would be no confrontation, apparently took great amusement in what they were watching. As the IFVs rolled on, they waved and smiled mockingly to the Ustians. Bruno remained stone-faced as he stood upright in his cupola. Trying to look the part of a proper army officer. He glanced back at the ex-lawman, who watched him go off intently. He made a finger gun and pointed it at Bruno before mimicking it firing. He turned around again and keyed his radio.
"Bravo 6 this is Bravo 3, roadblock cleared without incident. We're enroute to FOB, how copy?" He reported.
"Copy, Bravo 3. Good work; see you soon.".