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"You're saying this came from the top, Corporal?"
"You're a curious one, aren't you, trooper?" Mossi answered Trooper Donard. That kept him quiet. "The very top, Donard. Marshal Strongborn himself ordered this mission."
The whole of 2 Platoon were being deployed to a forward strongpoint in the red zone. It was a tiny outpost, a prefab radiologically-proofed bunker dropped from high-altitude, sufficient to sustain fifty men for six months. Radiation levels were dropping all the time, fanned by strong winds away from the isle, but Feather Command was still taking precautions.
LCpl Mossi had opted to take the first patrol around their new home with Tpr Donard and the other three men of 4th Company 22C. The ground was barren, ashen, and their CBRN suits were a constant hassle. Still, it was seen as an act of contrition for the PR disaster in Móinéar an Glas, and Lieutenant Warlsh was keen to regain some honour for 4th Company 2 Platoon, who had taken the incident badly in the press back home. Rumour had it Colonel Wisson, leader of the 7th Regiment Skymarine, had personally spoken to Warlsh, bypassing Company level entirely. Morale was not great within what had officially been designated "Outpost 7D4-2" and what the troops were calling "Micro Base" due to its small size and perceived similarity to a microwave oven for them. |
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VDF forward recon base Kura DZ4 was in turmoil. Situated on the northeast coast of what had been Sorthern Northland the base was the center point of recon and rescue missions in the eastern reaches of the red zone. Thus far tings had gone pretty much as expected with no survivors having been found, first in the larger cities and now in the smaller towns. Drones and Rovers alike had continued to come up empty. Nothing out of the expected had shown its head. That was until last night.
Several rovers had been sent out on extended missions to see what could be found. All were in and out of contact as radiation levels surrounding them fluctuated greatly. One of those rovers, Xaiku 217 piloted by Captain Berul Caern’jiu had made radio contact juat after 1800 hours, but the message had been broken and on the verge of inaudible at best. Knight Marshall Ioniq Du’lissi listened to the recording once more…
“… signs…wreckage,,,nothing,,,under attack,,,under attack,,,too much…”
That something unexpected and probably horrific had happened to the crew of Xaiku 217 was undoubted. But exactly what - and exactly where - were complete unknowns. No signal had been received from the rover’s gps, another system having trouble with changing radiation levels. For now relief units would have to be sent blindly in the general direction the missing rover had been searching. The only saving grace is that this rover had been searching the red zone nearer to the eastern border where Sorthern northland gave way to unclaimed territory.
Knight Marshall Ioniq Du’lissi looked over the rescue units assembled to find their comrades. 3 Xaiku rovers accompanied by two Hyu’terii light tanks and a trio of Mizzek Assault helicopters. Hopefully that would be enough to handle whatever they would find. More troops had been commissioned from VDF headquarters, but tomorrow would be the earliest they would arrive. Quickly he turned and marched back to the Command Center. This was going to be a very long day.
* * * * *
Captain Berul Caern’jiu awoke slowly to the sounds of music and festivity. Somewhere beyond his direct vision a fire crackled and burned. He moved closer to the wooden bars of what could only be described as a crude cage. Still nothing could be seen.
“Svabol re wux tirir ti vdri?” The voice came from his left and was followed quickly by something hard finding his head. Slowly the world returned to black. |
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"Sky above, what the hell is that?"
Flight Lieutenant Stuwart "Horus" Bellison looked over his shoulder at Flight Officer "Crossbone" Martiz, his navigator. "What have you seen now, Crossbone?"
"Crash site. Looks like one of ours."
"I'll check it out." Horus pulled the AH-5a helicopter down lower. He'd been carrying Crossbone in his backseat long enough to know that the young navigator's hunches were worth a try, more often than not. He crackled a command to his wingman. "Devilfish, form on my flank. On your guard."
He crested the hill, and saw the crater. "Definitely a White Raven. Crossbone, you got coordinates?"
"Three-Oh-Niner North, Five-Seven-Five West, sir."
"Call it in, Crossbone."
"High sky, Horus!" Devilfish's voice came through. "Look at that! A Vegan probe. The bloody VDF shot down our drone."
"Horus, scopes show inbound signals from the northeast. Formation consistent with VDF." Crossbone's voice sounded hollow in Horus' ear, as he realised he was on the verge of making a decision.
"Horus, this is Feather, stand down! Repeat, stand down! We have received intel from on high, the VDF are not to be considered hostile. Repeat, stand down, VDF are friendlies."
Horus looked to his right, and saw that Devilfish's gunner had begun to rev the gatling gun. "Devilfish, for sky's sake, stand down or I'll shoot you down myself."
"Intel be damned, I know what I saw."
"Goddamn it, Devilfish, I will not watch you cause a diplomatic incident. Return to base or you will be subject to a court-martial."
There was a pause, and Devilfish peeled off. Horus sighed. "Crossbone, call it in. Send in the poor bloody infantry."
"Feather, this is Crossbone, recommend immediate deployment of Skymarine to secure sovereign Falcanian interests, over."
"Roger that Crossbone, tell Horus that the 4th Company is sending their very best."
"High sky... Warlsh's boys? Sky help us all."
"Better off out of it, Crossbone. Come on, we're getting out of here." |
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“Kura, this is rescue deployment Aphi Tul. Do you copy?”
“We have you Aphi Tul. Loud and clear. Go ahead.”
“Kura, we have begun to pick up scrabble on our sensors coms. It srrms that we feared correctly. We are not alone out here. Over.”
“Message received. Can it be determined if those picked up by the sensors are hostile or friendly?”
“No way to tell at this point. Will use caution upon approach to coordinates .309 keld 0575 jhus. Over.”
“Roger that. Be advised that anyone encountered in your area could potentially be hostile as we already know that something went wrong out there.”
“Will do, Kura. Aphi Tul signing off.”
Captain Ardoin Al’sha urged the rover into a slow crawl forward. The others would make fun of him for it later, but it was far better to be cautious and alive than brash and dead. “Have you made any sense of the scrabble?”
“If I didn’t know any better, I would say that the light coms we picked up were Falcanian in origin. But what would they be doing all the way up here?Last I heard they were operating in the areas closer to the southern coasts.”
“It cant mean anything good if they are Falcanian. Just keep your ears open. All units, switch arms to hot. We are approaching potentially hostile targets picked up on scanners and radar. Everyone stay alert, we already lost one unit out here.”
The subtle shift of the auto cannons on the three Su Hyera class Mizzek gunships told the captain that the message had been received loud and clear. The tanks would no doubt be ready to lend support as well.
“May the Mother Star watch over our souls.” |
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"Belay that order, Horus. You're to stay in the combat zone."
"Sky... sky..." Horus swooped around and began a patrol pattern. "Negative, command, I can see this escalating."
"Horus, this situation is now considered to warrant a full military presence. We have reinforcements inbound."
"This is madness, command. You can't see what's going on here."
"Further protests will be classed as insubordination, Flight Lieutenant. This is out of your hands now. We're sending in Skymarine Seven Delta Four Dash Two, a Sharpstar and Eagle Eye will be providing AWACS support, and we have PreyIIs to provide air supremacy."
Horus sighed. "Understood, command. Securing area."
======
The formation came in like a battering ram. Three T-115 transport jets, four PreyII fighters, and a sleek, large Sharpstar supercruising over the horizon. The Falcanian tradition for assigning any combat role to a supercruise-capable airframe was shown in full force. The Skyranger transports throttled back to subsonic speeds.
LCpl Mossi gave the hand signal and C section deployed after their comrades in 22B. Mossi was secretly pleased in spite of himself. As one of the minority of Falcanians with a powerful enough wingspan for flight, he had been aggressively recruited for the Skymarine 4th Company. It was telling that flight-capable Falcanians were estimated at about 44% of the population, but 87% of the Skymarine. He checked his backup chute, fluttered his wings slightly to ensure they were free, and leapt out of the plane. The wind hit him, ruffling his plumage, as he aligned his wings for freefall.
---
Horus looked upon the operation with pride, in spite of himself. Nobody could ever do an aerial insertion like a Falcanian. The troops soared gracefully into their pre-briefed battle lines and began to set up. Overhead, the PreyIIs did another flyby. A show of force.
"Horus, you are to remain on station until EC2 Eagle Eye arrives with its escort from 8th Heli Command. They'll relieve you."
"I'm sure they will..." Horus muttered to himself.
---
Mossi looked up and down the lines. His fireteam had been tasked with infantry support; many of the sections of 2 Platoon had been assigned Jackdaw missiles in anticipation of a tank fight. He saw the VDF probes, tanks and helicopters in the distance, closing on his squad. Suddenly things fell tense along the lines. Were they going to exchange fire? Would this be the outbreak of a war? |
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Captain Ardoin Al’sha urged the rover ahead cautiously. He had not known exactly what they would find out here in this desolate countryside, but this was most definitely as far from imaginable as it could get.
“We have eyes on Xaiku 217, Captain. Looks as if a couple of missile strikes disabled her. Patching video feed to Kura DZ4 now”
Al’sha slowed the rover to a halt. One wrong ove here could mean disaster. “Aphi Tul to Blanket 1, assume defensive strike positions. No reason to make ourselves one huge target if the Falcanians get itchy over there.” The three Su Hyera gunships immediately peeled of to the left and right to assume a spread formation the VDF had perfected long ago. Even with the odd stacked against the Vegai Rescue Unit, this would give them their best shot.
It was time to find out what should be done next. “Aphi Tul to Kura. Come in Kura.”
“Aphi Tul, this is Kura Passkey 5J687R.”
“Passkey accepted, Captain. Kura line is secure.”
The Captain sighed. Somehow he could almost sense what was coming. :Kura, are you receiving the video feed? Xaiku 217 is a loss. There are no signs of her crew. And to top it off we have what appears to be an unusually strong Falcanian force already on the ground, complete with air support. We have also spotted several missile packs which appear to be of the Jackdaw classification.”
“Aphi Tul be advised that we have taken the video footage into account and have every reason to believe the Falcanian presence here to be hostile. You are to hold your current position until aid arrives. Aphi Jhun and Aphi Evolz have been reassigned to the coordinates you have provided and should arrive there in under 2 hours time to provide support and assistance. Once they are in place, it falls to you to secure Xaiku 217.”
“Kura, I would advise strongly against this plan of action as we may provoke the Falcanians into adverse action. We are outnumbered here and have little in the way of support. Any open conflict will surely go bad for us.,”
“You have your orders Captain. Be advised also that the 177th Furrozzii hs been dispatched as well. They should provide the air support need to deal with this Falcanian threat.”
The entire 177th? The VDF command was taking no chances. And they were also leaving only a very small window to make good any escape. “Roger command. Holding positions. Out”
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"Looks like they're spreading out defensively, Sarge."
"Cool it, Mossi. Our AWACS support is here." He pointed up to the rounded bulk of the Eagle Eye airship, accompanied by a host of six SuperCondors. Sergeant Balner had seen action during the war, and fought alongside those SuperCondors. He knew the damage those gatling guns could do.
"Alright Mossi, prepare your men. We're going to secure the crash site. Fire upon only if you are fired upon."
Mossi's men began advancing across the wrecked landscape. It was the most unnerving advance of Mossi's life so far. He'd fought in a war already, but he wasn't keen on starting one.
They reached the downed White Raven and the pulverised Xaiku. They had both taken a pounding, huge punched welts all over their canopies. That was odd; the White Raven used the same Sunflare missile that the SuperCondor was armed with. Mossi had seen enough impacts from that during the war; they scorched everything they hit. These were clean, circular impact holes. And they were on the White Raven and the Xaiku. He'd seen these before, too; the missile Falcania had used before the Jackdaw was the Starspike, and with the dominant industry in Falcania being arms manufacture for export, many smaller nations and insurgent forces got their hands on it.
"This doesn't add up. Trooper Donard, get me the radio. What's the open channel the VDF listen on?"
"I'm not sure what they call it in their dialect, sir, but they do have an open channel somewhere. I'll tune to it."
"Do it, trooper. We need to nip this."
There were a tense few minutes while Donard fiddled with dials on the bulky radio unit. Mossi looked up and down at the VDF spread.
"Here, sir."
Mossi took the handset. "Attention all Vegan forces, this is a peaceful transmission. My name is Lance Corporal Mossi, of the Falcanian Combined Strike Force. My assignment number is Seven Delta Four Dash Two Two Charlie Alpha. I am acting under my own initiative, and it will be only moments until my superiors have me recalled, so I shall be brief. I do not believe this conflict is necessary. We are examining the craft of both our sides; they have been damaged by the same weapon. We did not fire upon your probe, and I believe it is increasingly unlikely that you fired upon our drone. We should both seek to down arms and investigate this further." He took a deep breath. "I repeat, this is a peaceful transmission. My name is Lance Corporal Mossi..." |
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“Sir! We are receiving an open channel transmission from the Falcanians. Sounds urgent.”
“Well what the hell are they saying?”
“That’s the problem. I don’t know. I speak Sorthern Northlander and Tvarchian. We were not expected to find a Falcanian force out here.
Captain Al’sha cursed under his breath. Perhaps the one chance to stop this conflict and he had no way of knowing what was being said.
“They are saying that they did not attack our rover, I think. And something about their drone being shot down, Other than that I cant be sure”
Al’sha let out a sigh of relief. Finally a break in his favor. “Who is this? Nevermind. Let them know that we have received their message and are coming in to talk. Just one rover. Then get your ass over here, I need you to translate. All units be advised that Aphi Tul commander will be moving forward to converse with the Falcanian force. If we are to avoid a conflict, this is a necessary action. Do not, I repeat, do not fire unless fired upon.”
“But sir! My skill with their language is minimal at,,,”
“just do it!”
Al’sha watched as one of the helicopters broke rank to land next to his rover. The soldier who disembarked and came forward looked little more than a boy. “ready to stop a war?”
The solier grinned sheepishly. “not what I expected to do today sir.”
“Me either. But this is what we must do if we wish to make it home. Let them know we are on our way in.”
Ten minutes later Captain Ardoin Al’sha shook hands with Lance Corporal Mossi. The similarities between them were immediately apparent. Both had seen the evils of war and were more valuable from their experienced knowledge than any superior officer would ever admit. This was a man (he was a man, wasn’t he?) that he could be friends with if the situation we right.
Mossi began to speak low but quickly. Al’sha turned to the interpreter. “He says that he has been recalled and a higher ranking officer will be taking his place. Some other stuff as well that I could not catch.”
“Bull-explicitive removed-!” the sudden expletive caused everyone near to flinch. “You can tell them that I will only speak with Mossi. If he is recalled, I will leave and we can let those who love war more decide things.”
As the message was being delivered Al’sha thought to himself “just what the hell are we getting into here?” |
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Mossi was out of his depth. His well-meaning act had escalated, and now he was shaking hands with a foreign military officer.
Falcanian people fell into a spectrum of mutations. Some had claws, some had wings, some had striking head plumage that rose several feet above themselves. Entire treatises had been authored on the variations in leg, knee and foot structure between regional peoples. However, all of them shared beaks and feathers; all Falcanians were very different from other humans.
That, and the isolationist politics of the nation, had historically made relations with other nations difficult.
The handshake had gone on a long time. The Vegan captain, Ardoin, he thought, seemed a veteran. The translation was awkward; clearly Ardoin didn't speak the High Tongue; it was similar enough in root to most languages in the south and east of AO, but the Socialist Empire was a fair way away from home.
He got the gist, however, that the captain was asking for him to stay around. By now the notion of an immediate firefight had ended. Lieutenant Warlsh, commander of 2 Platoon, had been summoned, and was currently walking towards the captain and the lance-corporal, his honour guard in tow. Mossi pulled a hasty salute. By now, most of the platoon had gathered round; the three sergeants, in particular, of the three squads comprising 2 platoon, were standing near the foreign officers. Warlsh stepped up, all bluster and pomp. "Lance corporal, you have derelicted your post and fraternised with the enemy. You are immediately discharged of your duty."
"Sir, these people are not the enemy," This voice came from behind Mossi; it belonged to Sergeant-At-Arms Onnigan, commander of the Platoon's first squad. He was standing beside Mossi's immediate superior, Sergeant Balner. "This is a relief effort, not a war, sir."
Warlsh looked as though he'd been lashed. "You speak out of turn too, Onnigan? You forget, I am the ranking CSF officer in this theatre."
"Not true, sir." Balner was leaning on his rifle. He pointed up. "Flight Lieutenant trumps Lieutenant."
Warlsh looked around. The platoon were turning on him. They were on the verge of betrayal; betraying their orders, their superiors, and the honour of the Free Kingdom.
"Sir, radio message for you." Warlsh turned. His radio officer was holding a handset to him. He took it. "Warlsh here."
"Warlsh, this is Flight Lieutenant Bellison, you are ordered to stand down," came Horus' reply from his SuperCondor, hovering above the scene.
"Lieutenant Bellison, this is a Skymarine matter. You should keep out of this."
"An act of war on this scale would be a Skymarine matter, but perhaps one for Colonel Wisson."
Warlsh considered this for a few moments. "Acknowledged."
"Consider all your orders in the past hour to have been belayed. This includes any discharges of duty."
Warlsh paused. "Acknowledged, Bellison." He turned to the assembly. "Sergeants Onnigan, Balner and Sinnh, recall your squadrons. Mossi, your section too. We're settling a camp here." He looked to the Vegan translator, with bitterness in his eyes. "You get that, Vegan? We're not prosecuting a war here." |
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Thu’irnol turned from the pompous officer who had just basically dismissed him offhand. “Capatain, it seems He wants us to wait while he has a tent put up. Do we really have time for this?”
Captain Ardoin looked at the young soldier with a tinge of longing for times gone by, “How old are you, son?”
The question caught the would-be interpreter by surprise. “Twenty, Sir. Or at least I will be on next Tuesday.”
Twenty years old. Damn he felt old. “They have the superior force and thus can dictate the action. Request of them for Mossi to be allowed to stay and speak with me of these (Ardoin swept his hand to include the drone, rover, and everything else present). He seems to be the coolest of the lot and I wish to get things more understandable before the 177th gets here.”
He had noticed Mossi’s deferral to the arrogant officer who had come up. Thu’irnol had said he was a Captain or maybe a Lieutenant, that part of the translation had been hard for him. One thing he deeply despised was a younger officer, usually having gained his position through name, ignoring the obvious experience of life-long soldiers. Things rarely went well when that happened and Mossi definitely seemed to fit that latter role. He might never make it into a true command position but he would surely outclass those who did in meaningful knowledge and how it should be applied.
The captain watched carefully to see the reaction when the request was made. He would have to be careful to remember to read their eyes. A set jaw he could read, but those beaks would take some time to figure out. Mossi almost cringed as he heard the request. Obviously he had been hoping to be done with his part in this mess. But Ardoin knew a good man when he saw one. To ease the tensions of the one person on the Falcanian side he felt he could trust, Ardoin ran a hand through his shoulder length hair exposing the large, rough patch of bronze scales that started on his neck and ran the length of his spine. Perhaps the Vegai and Falcanians were not so different in as much as they both had mutations to be dealt with. The Falcanian’s were just a tad bit more obvious.
Captain Ardoin Al’sha turned to where the lone remaining soldier waited with the rover. His loud bark of orders in the Draconic tongue echoed across the landscape causing every Falcanian and Vegai present to stare at him in near alarm. “ Gethrisj spical ekess wer lyriki! Yth xurwk ihk ssifisv!”
Well now, he thought to himself. That gives them something new to think on. |
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The men of 2 Platoon were busying themselves in raising tents; they had decided to pitch some for the Vegai men, who they had taken rather a shine to. Lieutenant Warlsh's men had put up his own tent, and he was sitting within, sulking.
Mossi sat in one of the tents, with Ardoin. Sergeant Balner stood at the door. Sergeant-At-Arms Onnigan stepped towards Mossi, and chirruped gently in his ear. "Relax, Lance-Corporal. I hear Blackard is on his way." Mossi stiffened, and Onnigan continued. "Blackard's a good officer, he rose the ranks the old fashioned way. Just tell the truth, you'll be fine." With that, Onnigan smiled, and resumed his post at the door.
Mossi swallowed. Translation was going to be difficult. "Er, the drone, OUR drone, and your probe... they were both shot with the same missile." He pointed at one of the Jackdaw units, lying in its case. "NOT the new one. An old missile. An old Falcanian missile, but we sold that one for years!" he gestured with his hands. "I think it was rebels. Northland rebels with old gear." He looked around. "We have more men coming, and more planes. Helicopters. My superior is coming, Captain Blackard. He's not like Warlsh, he's like me and us," he said, gesturing to himself and the sergeants. "Just you wait."
=========
Captain Blackard, commanding officer of the 4th Company, had requisitioned an entire T-115 to himself. It was the quickest way of getting to the frontlines.
From inside their tent, Mossi and Ardoin could make out some shouting from outside. Even the would-be translator picked up a few choice phrases; "Don't countermand your sergeants, the Skymarine is run by its sergeants," "Don't threaten the Sky Control Force," "Are you trying to start a war here, you bristling cloaca?!" to illustrate just a few. Mossi and Ardoin exchanged a few eyebrow raises.
A few moments later, Captain Blackard entered the tent, pulling off a sharp salute. Unlike Lieutenant Warlsh, who had been a plump little man wearing barrack dress, Blackard was wearing full battle dress. Only the sharp winking of the double orange star on his sleeve signified a high rank. Blackard was a tall Falcanian with striking, dark plumage.
He gave a sharp salute, and then bowed deeply to Ardoin. He spoke in a very rough, street-dialect approximation of the Draconic tongue. "Deep military-context greetings, sir captain. Please sorry for my poor use of your tongues, I learned only a rough version when fighting near your borders, before our Falcanian inside royalty war. My name is Captain Blackard of the company fourth, and I am here to discuss the events that were sustained between our drone and your vehicle. I have been briefed on Mossi's message, and also on how Lieutenant Warlsh can do a sexual act on a pelican." He smiled, clearly not quite understanding the weight of idiom. "Warlsh is being reassigned to another field of theatre, and Mossi is soon to be promoted to Full Corporal as a result of his initiative. I hope this is pleasing to yours. The Skymarine did not deploy here for war, but for human helping relief. Even though there are those in this north land that would not consider Falcanian, nor Vegai, to be human proper." He chuckled. "I am desire to be your friend, Captain Ardoin." |
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Winging It Since 2004 |
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Captain Ardoin Al’sha looked around the makeshift camp that had been set up around the wreckage of the Falcanian Drone and the Vegai Rover. It had been nearly a week since the two parties had arrived and narrowly avoided the beginnings of war. A week in the Sorthern outlamds and yet one thing remained glaringly clear. They were no closer to any real answers than they head been in the beginning. That the drone had been shot down with what appeared to be older Jackdaw missiles sold in huge quantities to anyone with money. The same type of missile had been used to disable the rover. But the whereabouts of the Vegai crewmen remained a mystery.
Discussions had been held at length debating where the rebels/guerillas/usurpers had come from. Talk had ranged over the folly of selling arms to almost anyone before encompassing the fact that both nations had their hands fully involved in that game. Still nothing presented itself.
“It’s almost as if someone had wanted us to go to war with each other.” The comment had come from a small group of messengers gathered near the tent’s entrance.
Captain Ardoin Al’sha looked up as Captain Blackard turned to him “Now that is an idea worth examining.” |
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"Bad news from the front."
Marshall Strongborn looked up from his desk at the midshipman interrupting his report-writing. "The mission to investigate that drone?"
"Yep. We've narrowly avoided war with the Vegans, sir."
"The Vegai," Strongborn corrected him. "War? Did nobody think it would be germane to check with Feather Command before war was declared?"
"Sir, it was 7D4-2 Platoon. Again."
"One platoon? You're telling me that all the controversy since we arrived here has been caused by ONE PLATOON?" Strongborn looked like he was about to burst a vessel. The midshipman changed tack.
"Most of our other operations here have been fairly unremarkable, and largely blessed with success. We've found a few pockets of life, nomads and that, and we've dropped a lot of food packages on Inis na Dún."
"Sky damn it, midshipman." Strongborn sighed. "We shouldn't be out here. This is political. Everyone knows it, everyone's been talking about it but us. It's the bloody Chairman's doing. Chairman Ronnand bloody Warst, wants to be the big man on the regional scene. Wants to show the world that Falcania's not just another bloody third-world country recovering from civil war. They want to show everyone how strong we are! I mean, why else would you commit a full carrier group and a bloody Skymarine division to administer a humanitarian aid effort? They're showing off their muscles by handling a newborn chick! It's madness!"
The midshipman stood looking at the marshal, slightly uncomfortable.
"Look. Sorry, you didn't need to be here for that. We've got our orders and we're damn well going to carry them out. This is Wisson's mess, isn't it? 7th Regiment? Who's ranking officer there?"
"Captain Blackard, sir. He deployed his honour guard personally to relieve Lieutenant Warst of his command." The midshipman shuffled the papers in his hands and coughed. "Warst's father was an officer under Cockroft, sir, in the civil war."
"Ooooh. Political. I thought the Republican commanders got shafted in the Retribution Trials?"
"Apparently not all of them, sir. I've got his file here, sir. He's got two commendations of merit. Blackard, on the other hand, only just promoted to captain, he was one of the troops uptaken to lieutenant after the war."
"What did he do in the war, this Blackard?"
"File sergeant. One of the last Protectorate survivors at the battle of Mathdon."
"High sky. Tough bastard then." The Marshal sighed. "So, seasoned soldier-turned-commander, fought for the losing side during the war, flies in to powder keg initiated by his immediate subordinate, jumped-up college boy, whose dad fought for the other losing side during the war. We remain, somehow, not at war. Who else you have in that magic file of yours, midshipman?"
"Just one other significant soldier, sir. Sergeant-at-arms Onnigan. Senior sergeant in 2 Platoon. Joined the Skymarine after the war, has all the indications of one of the Loyalist militia."
"Ah, finally, someone who was on the winning side. What's so special about him?"
"Just one thing, sir. Our records show that he served in the military before the civil war. Holding the rank of General."
"Well... isn't this just an interesting scenario we have here?" The marshal drummed his fingers. "Who do you answer to, midshipman?"
"Uhm, High Lieutenant Mintel, sir. Skyfleet intelligence."
"I want to have you seconded to my department. Get me the paperwork. I want you to keep me informed of everything that's going on in that theatre." |
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Falcania |
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OOC- Sorry for the Holiday break. Now back at it.
******************************************
Berul listened to the schackles rattle inside his small cage as it bounced roughly from side to side in the rickety, old army truck as it careened madly down some long forgotten trail of a road. He had given up on attempting to discern his location days ago as those who held him captive were always on the move and the stars this far westward seemed a bit out of sorts. Somewhere between Sorthern Northland and Maraque and relatively close to the Salamantic was his only conclusion. The latter could be determined by the occasional smells of salt water on the cool evening breeze.
Of his captors, he knew even less. They spoke a language unknown to his ears and dressed in robes and turbans. More than that was nearly impossible to tell. Other than the man, if a man he was, who wore the yellow robes. His accent was far different than the others, his voice almost melodic by comparison, and he was much taller. The other thing that stood out was that where his captors were definitely light-skinned, the newcomer was most definitely much darker.
That they were headed someplace specific was undeniable but as to where that someplace was - only the Gods would know. A shout from somewhere ahead caused the old truck to slow down and Berul craned his head as far into the bars of the cage as he could trying to see what might be there, but one of the smelly, unkempt guards noticed him looking and roughly threw the moldy tarp that had covered the cage for most of its journey back into place. Now he could see nothing.
*****************************************
A returning group of scouts brought with them no new news and Ardoin frowned with disgust. The search for the missing Vegai had turned up exactly nothing. Even the 177th had showed how futile the effort seemed. If 75 assault and recon helicopters performing round-the-clock missions had no luck, then there was indeed nothing to be found.
Yet somehow here they all still were. Vegai and Falcanian still searching for answers that seemingly did not exist. Only the stark reality of one downed drone, one disabled rover, two dead Vegai soldiers and one missing Vegai officer were there to provide proof that something had happened. No signs of anything else were there to provide clues. Nothing replaced by more nothing. It was maddening.
Ardoin stomped hard on the ground. He needed a drink. Perhaps Mossi and Blackard had found something new. |
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The air was filled with the ever-present whine of turbofans; to the Skymarine, it was a comfort to know that Falcania ruled the skies. Mossi was never sure how the Vegai felt about it. One of those cultural things, he supposed.
Still, the PreyIIs blasted past the helicopter, and he smiled. His legs dangled out of the side of the Pelican transport chopper, and he resumed scanning the terrain below him with his binoculars.
"Not what you signed up for, eh, corporal?" This was Sergeant-At-Arms Onnigan, manning the machine gun next to him.
Mossi shook his head, and shouted above the rotors. "No, sarge. I'm a soldier, not a diplomat."
"You do what you needed to, Corporal. That's what it means to be a soldier."
The journey continued. It was good that the background radiation had, by now, lowered to a sufficient level that Command had deemed continued use of CBRN equipment unnecessary; they were, however, maintaining a quarantine of all units deployed to the mainland. Blackard had deployed the rest of the 4th Company, and "Micro Base" had been supplemented with additional prefabs; now 200 soldiers were deployed in billets there, and there was a small airbase where two wings had been deployed. Even if they were sending a hammer to crack a nut, Mossi mused, there was some pride in knowing it was the biggest hammer present.
The Vegai had sent 75 attack copters to perform recon; Blackard had offered all 200 troops of 4th Company. Someone had to find something.
But so far all they'd found was scrubland, much of it scorched. The occasional ruined town marked the landscape like pockmarks.
"Hey, look! Sign of life!" On the other side of the copter, Donard pointed out one of the ruins.
"Call it in."
=====
Twenty minutes later, 2 Platoon spread out into the ruins. Blackard walked to the centre as the platoon spread out to secure the area. There was the remains of a huge bonfire in the town centre. Blackard stepped towards it, his boots crunching on broken glass. "This ash is fresh..." he muttered to himself.
"B reports clear!" his radio crackled.
There really was a lot of broken glass around, Blackard thought. It glittered in the midday sun, almost blinding him from beneath.
"A Section clear!"
So what? They'd investigated three villages already that morning. But something about this one seemed... different. unusual. The smell of the smoke was still relatively fresh; muted, admittedly, through the limited Falcanian sense of smell. However, his eyes picked out a glimmer on the floor that was different to the others.
"C clear, we're all clear, sir." Sergeant Balner stepped forward. "The town is completely uninhabited. It's eerie, sir, there are no bodies anywhere.
That was a bit eerie, actually, Blackard mused. "There were people here, recently. Look at all this glass. It's not window glass, it's bottle glass. There was a party." This just got stranger and stranger. He crossed to the strange glimmer he found. Now... this was a lead. He stooped and picked it up in a gloved hand; it was a brass shell casing. He held it up. "Shell casing; 7.62 calibre. And will you get a hold of this!"
Dull senses of smell, Falcanians, but very sharp eyes. He made out an indentation on the rim; "Jay Industries 7.62 made in Falcania".
Onnigan took the shell casing. "Last weapon Falcania made in 7.62 was the IAW, and that's the 4th-most-exported firearm in Atlantian Oceania. The thinking-man's insurgent firearm," he smiled to himself. "Fired a fair few of these in the war."
Blackard went "hmmm" and looked around. "Seems conclusive to me. This town is on the path to the coast. Get to the chopper! Radio it on the way. We got a chase on our hands, boys!" |
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Falcania |
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Winging It Since 2004 |
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Posts: 776 |
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