// The chance to get some IRP knowledge about les Révélateurs and their dirty laundry is on the table. PM me here or on Discord if you'd like to participate. Escadron XXII Forward HQ, planet Leeds
5 April 742 AGS, 21:34
– A letter for commandant Gauthier. – Merci, lieutenant. Dismissed.
Adelaide accepted a small metallic tube and fumbled it in her hands. The officer disappeared quietly with a respectful nod, closing the door behind him. The newly-appointed Commandant was left to herself again, in her new quarters at a former Bretonian Armed Forces facility.
To say that her accomodations were Spartan would probably be an overstatement, albeit not too big. The single room was a few meters long and even fewer meters wide, but had everything Ade needed: a small cabin by the entrance, with private restroom and shower; a table further in the room, facing the entrance; a single bed in an alcove to the right. This is where the commandant sat down, untwisting the lid of the tube which contained a letter.
There was no doubt about the sender: Ade knew only one person who'd go for something as archaic as letters written manually on a parchment. A quirk of an old man, sure, but nobody would have enough bravery or lack of respect to say it in his face.
Le Professeur Wrote:
Chère Adelaide,
We all hope you are doing well. I heard that you've been put in charge of Escadron XXII and ordered to Leeds. It warms my heart that you have achieved so much in so little time. You deserve it. I'm proud of the part we could play in that.
While on Leeds, there is a matter that I ask you to attend to. You do know about the Représailles, the old flagship of Escadron XXII. Its wreck has remained on Leeds for some time now, in a remote region away from major settlements. La Marine watched over it, but for reasons I won't mention here, they were ordered not to approach. We want les Révélateurs and you specifically to reclaim the vessel and any secrets it might still keep. Since recently, you know what I'm referring to.
Once you're on Leeds, contact Capitaine Rousseau. He will provide you all the information about the crash site. Use it, but bring along only the officers who have sworn their loyalty to you. Make sure that the information you're sent to retrieve doesn't get out. The King commands it.
Cordialement,
Le Professeur
While reading the parchment, Ade couldn't but catch its scent. It reminded her of her youth on New Paris: spring at the parks and gardens of La Sorbonne; passionate meetings with her betrothed... former betrothed; long and calm discussions with the professor in the lecture hall after the classes. There was also something else, something that Ade couldn't quite place, but it didn't matter. What mattered were the orders from le Roi.
"His word is law," she whispered with an elusive, yet self-assured smile. Tomorrow was looking up to be a busy day.
Jonas was strapped in to the port pilot seat of his Bactrian freighter. The ship had just emerged from the nearby smog cloud and was bound full speed towards the dark side of planet Leeds. He'd been piloting a freighter himself lately to offload munitions and military vehicles at the Resistance Base, and ferry out refugees. With the recent formation of a local resistance group, propped up mostly by his own private assets, he'd been busy flying whenever he was awake. It certainly felt that way to him. He'd had a variety of ships assembled that he commanded himself from time to time. But for these runs, he knew he sometimes had to do some dirty work himself.
One way or the other, he was determined to keep the flow of military goods coming in alive and well. Others were interested, he signed up a decent captain that had been already making the same runs on his own, who was a Leeds 'local'. Others had voiced interest and support, but they all knew they had an uphill battle. That didn't matter though, the entire war had felt the same way. Either way, while they lived, they'd do their best not to give up. Not without one hell of a fight.
But that was the problem. Most fighters were already tied up in the miilitaries involved in the war. Building a fighting force might be the hard part, but building a blockade running force, might shape up better. At least there were captains willing to do the short runs, or fetch muntions on the black market. They could count on scouts and sympathizers willing to pass on a bit of useful information. It was a start at least.
Even more complicating, was the presence of some rather determined GRI IFF'd interceptors of late. So far no one had been hurt or captured, but it was looking like they'd be running for it more than not. There were always tactics that could help your situation, procedures that made things easier. Like transferring cargo from large transport to freighter directly in space, or low planetary orbit. Large ships were firing out their shipping containers of munitions, and freighters would "boomerang" around, tractoring them on the move and zipping back down to planetside within minutes. It was like a really big game of 'catch' and the ball was highly explosive. Nothing to worry about! Even more interesting, is what a similar return trip for refugees might be like. It was typically only done out of desparate necessity, but they could also make the transfer to their transport in the same way. It was bumpy, but unfortunately, beggars can't be choosers. Luckily, so far, no one had been injured or killed...so it seemed relatively safe as long as its done right.
As the Bactrian entered the atmosphere on the dark side, they settled into a low altitude and continued along the surface in the direction of the Resistance Base, quickly moving into the day side. The main base itself, its surface structures anyways, were carefully hidden way out in a secluded and non developed area. These areas did still exist on Leeds, although few, mainly because they were arid desert environments that never had much reason to be settled. And with the war, it was certainly not happening anytime soon.
Yet still a few hundred kilometeres out, as they were just about to cross the permimeter towards friendly lines, his scanner sounded off an alert notifiying him that some kind of energy signature had been detected in an area nearby, still outside the safe zone. It was strange, he thought, since there was no friendly military activity out there, no ships or civilian settlements. He conducted a more detailed scan, and the screen displayed the wire frame chassis of a Valor class Gallic battleship. Suprisingly, there wasn't much of a change in the expression on his face. At this point, the surface was actually littered with dozens of such wrecks that had accumulated over the years. Typically they were too dangerous to approach, or are destroyed by their respective navies before being totally abandoned.
This one however, although in bad shape for a ship that landed at full speed, was still intact. It hadn't been blown, it had never exploded. He considered it for the moment. No other activity was detected near the wreck yet, it was possible something was there still worth a look. It was also possible it could blow after the slightest bang of a fallen piece of debris. His crew though was a decent one. Another band of ragtag go getters that were out for blazing glory, credits, and some were actually there because they cared about Leeds. He'd hand picked them for his personal freighter because they were at least a little brave. He turned to his co-pilot. A lovely young woman who was focused on the horizon. She was a pilot and engineer, young and naive, but had the qualifications, and a firey personality to boot. He'd hoped bringing on such personalities would pay off when the shooting starts.
"Alright darlin, change of plans. Tell the hold crew to lock down the cargo, we're making a little detour. Set your course for that energy signal, bring us down about 5km out, I don't want to risk causing it to blow." He leaned over to a console and hit the ship's intercom "Now hear this: prepare for emergency landing, hold crew suit up, pack your side arms, we're going for a walk..."
Moore Ridge, Retribution crash site
6 April 742 AGS, 6:52 AM
– You needn't have gone all the way here if you had just let us do our job, Commandant. – I am aware, Capitaine Rousseau. But my orders are clear, and so are yours. – Oui, and we are carrying them out to the letter. Still...
The capitaine didn't finish, as he had to slow down again and extend his hand. Adelaide accepted with slight reluctance and climbed up. She was finally on a winding path leading to the opposite site of the ridge. Hopefully, no more grabbing at rocks to get further up, and fewer veiled-yet-deserved insults from that Rousseau. Normally, the capitaine would be right: it would've been best to just let a Royal Mountaineer Regiment get to the crash site and scour it of anything remotely valuable. But Ade would've had more respect for the man if he hadn't insisted on reminding her at every opportunity that she wasn't fit for the job.
What the foolish capitaine failed to realize that the Retribution had something more valuable than any supplies. Something so valuable, that the command stalled its retrieval for almost a year. Something why the command had the Mountaineers keep a close watch over the site, but not approach until Adelaide could get there personally, with her squad of loyalists. Then again, the capitaine could be just showing off in front of his troops... or fishing for information. Either way, Ade didn't intend to give him the satisfaction of either. She kept on walking in proud, much like her squad.
Unlike her, the people she brought along were trained and equipped precisely for ground operations like this: sturdy medium armor, and plasma rifles. Ade would even bet they could go toe-to-toe with those arrogant Mountaineers in terms of skill, and surpass them in other regards, especially silent professionalism. The Commandant checked her own holster on the hip. She only brought light armor and an automatic tachyon pistol for the job. The resistance was all about hit-and-run, and a couple of heavy Gallic APCs that brought the squad to Moore ridge heavily encouraged "run" over "hit". However, they APCs were at the foot of the mountain now, at least 30 minutes by foot from the site.
Taken away by this train of thoughts, Ade didn't notice that they had already arrived. They were now on a small plateau overlooking the once-majestic leviathan of a battleship, just 10 meters or so below them. Once Ade noticed that the Mountaineers had even prepared a pathway down to one of the hull breaches, her respect for them grew somewhat. But it grew even more because the Capitaine was standing a bit away, instructing his own men and not interfering. Ade could now do the same to her own squad.
"We're here to collect a few items and recordings from the Retribution. I'll lead the way and identify them. Once we're done, we'll purge the ship's database. Then la Marine can do whateve they want. Might as well have the fleet vaporize this hulk from orbit if it isn't salvageable. You shall not ever disclose what occurred here. The King commands it."
"His word is law," the standard and expected reply followed in unison, emotions hidden behind the cold professional tone. That's when the Mountaineer captain approached: "I'll leave a sergeant and three gunners to watch the perimeter while your group moves in and does your job. In the meantime, the remaining 5 people and myself will go pick up the supplies from the APC. Something tells me we'll be cleared to do our job soon enough." Adelaide nodded in response, not even annoyed with the Capitaine speaking up first. The less interference, the better. With luck, Ade could wrap this mission by noon and return to the city and civilization.
The sun was approaching directly overhead, as a party of five, in a single column, evenly spaced, crept its way up a desert pass between two rock outcroppings.
Even treading lightly, the area was dusty, and the heat had the ground at its hottest and dryest point of the daily cycle. When they'd landed it was still dawn, cool and damp. Now, the heat was starting to kick in. Dust was in the air as they stirred the ground with their steps. The dust combined with the already rusty glow of the Leeds sky left a red haze over the area.
They were all properly outfitted, but for a short range jaunt. Jonas was in the middle, his side arm in hand as he looked over the heads of the others, into the distance. Ahead of them, still a couple hundred meters out and above them, was the wreck of the Gallic battleship they'd detected some slight energy signatures from. Nothing definitive, but worth a look. Could just be residual energy left in parts of the ship's engines, or some smaller sub system. Could mean survivors, could mean something of value. Only one way to find out.
As they approached, from the bow of the ship, many breaches in the hull were visible. The entire ship itself was also slightly 'bent' from the impact, as it shaped to the relief of the terrain that it landed on, which was near the top of a crater, on an outcropping against the inner wall, which formed the peak of a ridge. Jonas's party approached from a small path that lined the crater, leading around the edge from the bottom, where their freighter Stratocaster was sitting on stand by. Their engineer Boltcutter on watch.
When they got close enough up the hill, Jonas whistled once to signal to his men in front. They took a knee and the party closed in to huddle up near the rock wall they were following. Everyone kept their eyes scanning around them for any surprises, keeping the old light machine guns they were armed with aimed outwards.
"Alright, Bulldog, Jumpstart, you two stay here, take cover. Keep an eye on the wreck" he said as he pointed up the hill with his finger, "and you keep an eye on the way out, stay at the ready, don't radio in unless something happens" he gestured down the hill. Otherwise, I'll call you if needed. I'll check in within an hour. Hold tight until we get back"
The two men, former mercenary, former BAF, looked at each other. One said "What if you don't come back". Hudson looked at him, and at the path leading back to the ship. He then turned to the others as they took their positions, with puzzled looks on their faces.
"Cylone, I want you and your heavy machine gun at point, you and her are with me. Butterfly, you watch my back. Be ready with the door decoder. If things start blowing up, I don't want to wind up stuck fighting with each bulkhead divider as we go" he went on in his raspy, slighty 'old London' accent. The machine gunner, the 'big guy' of the group, well adorned with a couple belts of extra rounds, sporting a 'do-rag' rather than a helmet, half winked and nodded his acknowledgement as he silently turned back towards the wreck.
"You might wanna see this" She said in a matter of fact tone, as she turned to him with a small device with a glowing screen. A clicking sound could be heard lightly from it, like a light static, "Giger counter's in the yellow already, we could be orange by the time we get inside. Just thought we might want to avoid the barbecue" she said as she threw the device over her shoulder on a sling, and picked up her weapon.
"I heard it. Let me know when we're just about at red. I mean a hair length away. Still decon safe levels, you know what I mean" he replied half chuckling. She gave him a concerned look, half shook her head and went back to fiddling with some other gear. 'Alright, stay low, and quiet. We haven't picked up any signs of enemy activity, but with this radiation, our scanners might not be so reliable. Its more than I was hoping for. Still, we'll get inside and do more scans from there at least"
The last thing he did, before signalling, was pull a small pack he'd had slung over his shoulder foward in front of him. He pulled out a small case resembling a miniature silver briefcase, and opened it. He held it close, so that only he could see its contents. From his perspective, he looked down at a small screen with numbers on it, embedded over several small tubes marked with radiation symbols, labelled EXPLOSIVE. He flicked a switch on the panel which caused the digits to read STNDBY, before closing it up, and slinging it again.
Passage LJT-8, lower starboard bow, battleship Retribution
6 April 742 AGS, 7:33 AM
A quiet cracking sound followed by a sudden touch on Ade's shoulder made the woman flinch and spin around. All she saw in the darkness was the silhouette of an armored man. Damned spec-ops guys, always playing mutes. The loyalist who had touched Ade's shoulder extended a hand with a device. It was the source of the cracking. "Radiation. We should take a detour," the man explained calmly. Right. The fastest way to the bridge was out of the question. For a moment, it felt like the universe was against Ade returning from this mission early.
It had all started so well! The descent to the hull went smoothly; the breach on the starboard side had already been prepared for them. All that was left was to reach the bridge and the captain's quarters. Being a trained Naval officer, Ade knew where to go. The pitch-black darkness of the Valor's narrow corridors was no match for the night vision goggles Ade had put on. Her loyalists had no problem either, night vision built into their helmets. But the Commandant didn't account for a potential reactor leak. The Mountaineers didn't warn her either. At least Rousseau wasn't there to chuckle at Ade's reaction.
"Alpha-One, take point. Get us around the contaminated area and to the upper decks," Ade commanded, and the operative complied without a word, leading the group further through the corridors, towards the bow. The Commandant followed, with 2 other operatives by her side, and the last one controlling the path behind them. They didn't expect anyone else to be aboard, let alone an ambush, but procedures had to be followed.
Meanwhile, the Mountaineers who remained outside the hulk continued monitoring it. Little did they know that some Bretonians had already infiltrated the ship. The plateau only had a decent view on the aft starboard side. The two soldiers went in opposite directions to circle the hulk and keep watch, while the sergeant and the last soldier stood watch over the entry point that the Commandant and her loyalists had used.
Unlike Escadron XXII's operatives, the regimental soldiers were wearing light armor for better mobility. Their laser rifles were standard-issued Royal Marine weapons, perfect for medium-to-long range combat in the mountains. Having been stationed here for months, they've gotten used to patroling the area and could circle the battleship in about an hour to meet on the other side. That's what they intended to do, and one of them was bound to eventually run into the Bretonians, currently concealed by the rocks.
Jonas's party had made it to the hull breach. The three were in a close formation, and the heavy gunner threw an arm up to the edge of the breach and pulled himself up. Once he was up, he turned back and offered a hand to Jonas, pulling him up, then Butterfly.
Once inside, they crouched and gave a check to the Giger counter. It was Orange, and the needle was bouncing high. She widened her eyes as she put the device away and the began to creep down the corridor to the first bulkhead door.
Hudson signalled silently to halt there and take a knee. He tried the door. Sealed, no power. The door mechanism had a back up cell that allowed for manual access, if you knew the security code.
"Locked out, you're up darlin'" he said as he switched places with her. She plugged the decoder in and it started running keygen program, cycling through digits. There were about a dozen, so it might take a minute or two. Meanwhile, Cyclone half crawled up to the corner with the adjacent corridor, and peaked down.
Just then he heard a light ping far off, the sound of metal on metal, and a voice or two. His eyes bugged out and the hair the back of his neck stood up. He backed up and doubled over to Hudson, "Uh, I think we have a problem boss" he half whispered, and signalled with his hands in the direction of the noise. Hudson's brow firmed as a stern look of concern fell upon his face. He held his side arm high, and held his back to the bulkhead as they both crept back up to the corner. He peered around. Nothing could be seem, but voices, and the clinking of military boots on the deck plating could be heard down there towards the stern of the ship.
"I think I hear French" Hudson whispered back. He looked back at Cyclone and gestured to head back to the door, "This changes things. I'd rather not engage. But I wonder what they're up to" he mused aloud.
Just then the bulkhead door rose, opening the way through to the rest of the ship, allowing debris that was jammed against the door to fall. They all looked at each other as there was a brief crash.
They went silent, but Jonas waved with his hand repeatedly and they followed him through, not knowing if the noise had been heard, but it was likely. They moved quickly, and ducked into the first room they came to, slowly closing the door behind them.
"They could think it was an accident" she said, still holding the decoder in her hands, that she'd yanked out so fast she almost broke the thing. He kept his ears to the door as he held onto it, and held his finger to his lips. They all listened silently for a moment.
A minute went by, tense and long. Sweat ran down his forhead, and he was starting to feel the heat finally. After nothing but silence he pulled the door back and listend again. Seemed like they got lucky.
"Alright, you two break off and get to a computer terminal. See if you can find out what ship this is, download its manifest, get anything you can. That will do for now. Head back to the breach when you're done." Hudson ordered.
"And you cap? Going after Gallia by yourself?" Cyclone asked.
"Not quite, but I'm going to take a little listen"
Section WW-1014, lower central bow, battleship Retribution
6 April 742 AGS, 7:42 AM
A deep and heavy clang in the distance made Ade shudder again, as she hectically reached for her holster. Before she could draw her weapon, Alpha-One had already raised his hand as a warning gesture. The two loyalists by Ade's sides quickly pointed their rifles in the direction where the sound came from. As the rear guard caught up, Alpha-One still stood there, peering into the darkness of the corridor. The Commanant had drawn her tachyon pistol too by that time, but after a few more moments of standing absolutely still, she relaxed a little. Her voice, however, was still at half-volume: "Must be debris. Keep going."
Ade didn't have to repeat twice: Alpha-One took point again, but this time he had his weapon at ready and tried to step softly. Ade and the remaining members of the squad did the same thing, with each of the 4 loyalists controlling their own sectors, with the Commandant in the middle. Apart from the quiet order from Ade in Gallic, they didn't talk. After all, their destination remained the same: upper decks closer to the aft, and eventually the bridge.
Whatever consoles remained aboard the ship were of little use: shut down either due to the lack of power, or due to circuitry damage in the crash. One could chance upon an unharmed console with backup generator somewhere else aboard the ship. But in that case they would be greeted with Gallic language. The message was that the systems were locked down by Capitaine Damien Germain. A specialist could override it, of course, and probably get something of use, like the access codes to weapon or supply caches aboard the ship. Nothing bigger than one would expect to find aboard a Valor. Albeit important, that wasn't the prize that the Commandant had come here for. That's why the Gauls wasted no time on the terminals.
Retribution crash site, outside the bow section
6 April 742 AGS, 7:48 AM
In the meantime, one of the Mountaineers had reached the part of the ridge that was overlooking the bow section of the Valor. As per standard procedure, he turned out the radio, then took out the binoculars and observed the surroundings. The Mountaineers had done it so many times now that they could recognize any rock in the area. Hopefully, the Captain and the rest of the team were on their way back now, carrying the supplies from the APCs.
Bulldog was down in the prone postion, tucked in among some rocks near the cliff wall, just down from the wreck about 10 meters. The former Freelancer was a mercenary through and through. He insisted on using most of his own gear. He used a light machine gun, and carried two pistols, one on either thigh. He was wearing chest, shoulder and arm armor, as well as a helmet with half face covering, leaving his jaw open. His eyes were covered by goggles, that from the other side, enhanced his vision greatly, depending on the situation.
Jumpstart was a former BAF Engineer. He was able to do just about anything, and had fought in the war against Kusari. After he served his time, he had returned to Leeds in the hopes of avoiding any more war in his lifetime. As we all know, it wasn't long before the war came to him right here in Leeds. He was wearing similar armor, but the BAF issue stuff. It had a trademark look to it, everyone knew Bretonian soldiers when they saw them. Or, a Bretonian backed paramilitary group.
He was up on a ledge on the other side of the valley, looking down at Bulldog from a vantage point. He wasn't normally a sniper, but he had grabbed an auto-matic rifle with a scope, so he wound up one today. Brought him back to his younger days as a grunt.
He held up his rifle scope, and looked at the whole valley, of what he could see, and gazed back towards the wreck. Suddenly, a Gallic Royal Marine slowly crept his way from out behind the wreck, and was headed towards Bulldog. He watched for a moment, and got the rifle ready. He didn't want to risk radioing him from there, it could draw attention. Then, another marine came out behind him, a few meters back. Great, now there's two of them, he thought. Ironically, Bulldog knew they were there, and he knew where Jumpstart was too. He looked back up at Jumpstart and almost directly into the scope, only the clenching of his jaw could be made out. Both of them held tight, hoping the soldiers would turn around...
Jumpstart began to relax, as the solders slowly scanned the terrain on their way by, and continued around the ship, which would lead them around to where they came from most likely. He breathed a sign of relief. He looked again to Bulldog, but he wasn't there where he'd been. Quickly he got up, and looked again, and began checking around, from spot to spot, with the scope. He had a bad feeling suddenly, and got back up onto his feet, deciding it was time to move as well. The Gauls weren't just nearby, they were on site already. If the Captain didn't know, he would soon. Better get ready...
Butterfly and Cyclone were slowly making their way towards the stern of the ship. They were sticking to the lower decks, that were still intact anyways. She'd picked up a power signature, and scanned the circuit to lead her to a still intact console.
The heat was high now, and the ship was acting like an oven. The cool air of the deep decks was giving way to a constant warmth that was starting to drive Cyclone stir crazy. Apparently that wasn't too hard anyways, hence the nickname.
"Lets hurry this up shall we? What are the odds?? What are the odds??" He repeated a few times.
"Odds of what?" Bufferly replied. She was looking into yet another screen on some computer pad. Then she nodded ahead of them and pointed "up there, that's where we're going"
"The odds that they'd be here man. The odds that they'd be here! What are the odds that when we show up they'd have guys here. This is an old wreck. We're cursed or somethin. I got bad feelin!" he continued to whine.
"Forget about it. You been on the job before, haven't ya? You scared or something?" She jabbed back, trying to get him to break from his confusion.
"Yeah, but fightin out there ain't like fightin in some tin can!"
Just then, the ship creaked and shutted slightly around them, jolting them sideways as they walked. They looked at each other. Time was of the essense. If the cliff the ship was on gave way, it was likely not going to be nice when it hit the bottom.
They came to the console. He moved ahead to take a knee, facing down past their location, and kept looking back and forth as she worked. She plugged in her datapad and begin accessing the ship's computer. The power from the device actived the viewer. It took a minute to boot up. She glanced at Cyclone, he made eye contact for a second before looking back the other way, and spitting on the deck.
"Don't hesitate on my accord" he said sarcastically, while chewing on...something.
"Its coming..." she said, giving the console a little slap, "Ok, I think this ship was called, the "Représailles". I'm downloading the manifest and anything the computer core has. Logs, sensor data, should be something left. Not sure it'll be useful..."Another minute went by, "Got it." She pulled the plug, and Cyclone rose quickly, holding his heavy machine gun high, spinning around to cut in front of her taking the lead.
The ship creaked again, this time letting out a loud screech as though the entire hull twisted a bit.
"Alight, lets get the hell out of here" he replied.
Hudson was jammed tightly into an air duct, crawling his way towards the bridge, which ran paralelle to the corridor one would normally take. There were so many holes in the ship, it hadn't been hard to find a spot to crawl into to take cover. He figured it was wiser now to stay in the shadows entirely.
As he finally came close to the bridge doors, at the end, where the duct lead into the next room, he stopped. There was a barrier he'd have to ratchet through that would take a minute. He pulled out a screwdriver and quickly unscrewed the barrier plate, then slipped through to the ductwork that ran around the bridge.
He pulled himself up to the grid plating that lead out into the bridge, and looked out. It was quiet, no sign of survivors, or Gauls at all...
Until the doors swung open hard and fast. Gallic marines poured in and began working at the consoles. Jonas watched silently...
Bridge, battleship Retribution
6 April 742 AGS, 8:01 AM
"Alpha-One, open the shutters. I could use some daylight for a change. Two and Three, watch the entrance. Four, cover me," the female voice commanded in Gallic, as the team of 4 marines and 1 officer walked onto the bridge. The marines didn't have to be told twice, and they split up to carry out their orders. Even before the officer approached the console, the shutters already started opening with a deep creak, running on reserve power. For the first time in months has the bridge seen the light of a rising day. The heavy duraglass covered by the shutters had survived the crash mostly, but a few tall and wide windows were broken, letting in the dusty and warming up air of Leeds.
Ade could finally take off the night vision goggles and breathe in some relatively fresh air as she approached the terminal. "Access locked under authority of Escadron XXII, Capitaine Germain. Please identify yourself," a quiet, yet firm demand in Gallic followed, the dynamics crackling from damage. The officer replied just as firmly: "Commandant Gauthier, Escadron XXII. Here to complete protocol Omega." She was too preoccupied with the conversation, but a pistol was still in her hand. The guards were on alert too, especially after the jolts spreading around the hull.
"Clearance confirmation required," the computer voice insisted. Ade nodded, as if expecting that: "The King demands obedience. Unlock the captain's quarters, upload all the data on the drive, and purge local copies. Execute code Omega afterwards. The King commands it." It took the computer a few seconds, before the cracking voice replied: "His word is law. Clearance confirmed. Orders received, Commandant," the computer wasted no time uploading the data to the storage module. Once it was complete, the green indicator flashed one last time, and the console went dark, along with all the consoles aboard the ship that were still active.
Taking a deep breath, Ade picked up the storage module and looked around: "We're about done here. Let's check the captain's quarters and scorch this place." The Gauls hadn't yet noticed the Bretonian intruder, and with luck it could remain that way. Once the console had shut down, another door on the bridge opened, leading into a seemingly small room. That's where the officer headed, shadowed by one of her loyalists.
Meanwhile, the Mountaineers sent to patrol the area had since then returned to their camp, reporting no hostile activity. Captain Rousseau and the remaining forces had returned by then, leaving the APCs at the foor of the mountain to wait for their high-ranked guests. The APCs could have approached the wreck, but circling the mountains would take an extra hour, as oppsed to 15 minutes for the descent.
Bulldog was creeping up behind the two Gallic Royal Marines that had been slowly circling back around to the stern of the ship, along the edge of the cliff the ship was sitting on. He was quietly running from rock to rock, keeping back but staying on them.
Jumpstart had moved closer to the stern end of the ship, and could see that end clearly now from the other side of the crater. He aimed the rifle to watch via the scope.
Bulldog was only watching the two in front of him as they made their way up a hill and around the back of the wreck. However, another party of soldiers came up from over the side of the cliff from the other direction, and saw him as he was leap frogging to the next rock. They pointed him out and the soldiers scattered immediately, opening fire in his direction. He continued his dash to the next big boulder he was closest to, and just made it to cover as the plasma fire of the Gallic weaponry littered the area around him. Chunks of rock and dust flew around him. After a moment he jumped out, fired a burst in their direction, and tucked back in. Just great he thought to himself.
But then, rifle fire could be heard from across the valley. Jumpstart was laying down cover fire, and the Gallic soldiers went out of sight for a moment. But, it was only to prepare a grenade. Suddenly an armored soldier popped up with the raising of his arm high above him. A small sphere flew from his hand. Jumpstart could only watch. There was an explosion, and he wasn't sure what happened to Bulldog, all he could see down there now was smoke. He kept his sight on the Gallic soldiers, as a little panic started to kick in. Maybe they were all dead, should he stay? Or head back to the ship while there was time? This wasn't going as they'd planned at all.
The explosion could be felt and heard on the bridge. The loud pop and boom of the grenade caused the soldiers to stop and listen for a moment.Jonas could hear their radio. It was in french but he could understand enough to get the basics. Their men had come in contact with his. The last words he heard out of their officer's mouth, a female, was something along the lines of "erradicate them". He was now seriously running out of time. He had one last card up his sleeve. He reached around quickly for his bomb pouch, pulled out the case, flicked a switch that caused a light 'beep' and the screen on the panel went from STNDBY to ARMED and started blinking.
He then shifted hismelf to put his feet on the panel and kicked it out, sliding out quickly, and jumped to his feet. The Gauls were still in the corridor outside the entrance to the bridge, talking into a radio. They all turned and raised their weaons towards Jonas as he stood in front of them suddenly holding up his side arm with one hand and the bomb on the other. The radiation symbols could clearly be seen.
"Hold your fire! Hold your fire! I wouldn't shoot if you wanna live" Hudson blurted loudly. They all froze and the entire place went silent.
"I know you weren't expecting company! But neither was I...Now, see this? Everyone knows what that symbol means, right? You know what this is?" he said in a half joking tone of voice, and made a gesture with this hands resembling a 'boom' expression, pointing towards the radiation symbol.
"Now this is how its gonna be. You call off your men. You order them to pull back to the base of the mountain on the outside. You let my men walk out of there. Then, you're gonna let me walk out of here" he said. They all looked at him, then at their female officer, who was mostly blank, and said nothing. Finally, she said something in French over her radio.
Hudson then put a finger to his own ear piece "Jumpstart, Bulldog, you still there?" he said.
"Roger captain, Jumpstart here. I got eyes on Gallic soldiers, they have a perimeter set up near the stern of the ship. Bulldog is pinned down."
"Butterfly and Cyclone here cap, we're up by the bow, we made it out. You need us?" a female voice also rang though.
"No, I got this handled. All of you drop what you're doing and pull back to the ship" Hudson replied. At that moment, the wreck shifted around them again, and the entire deck dropped about a foot. The entire party lost its footing and reflexively ran down the corridor for the other side. Jonas, almost fumbling the nuke, did the same but fled back to the bridge. A few shots were exhanged.
"Hey hey hey?? You forget this???" he said holding it out again slightly around the corner of the doorway.
"Captain, I don't think there's much time for you" another voice said over the radio.
Hudson stood out in the door way, and held up the nuke, "Listen lady, if you have something you came to do, I'd advise doing it, cuz I'm walking out of here, or none of us are!" he blurted again.
"I think they're pulling back folks, but don't linger. Hey, Boltcutter!" he keyed in over the radio again.
Back at the ship, the engineer had been sitting in the cockpit seat, and had been napping until the explosion got him moving. He was listening in.
"Roger captain, I'm here, ready to go?" he said.
"Fire it up Boltcutter, and bring it in right down on top of us, get the rest, then come get me" he said.
"Where will you be cap?" Boltcutter replied
The ship shuttered again. There wasn't even time now to make it back to the breach. He thought for a moment.
"I"ll be topside on the hull, up by the bridge!"
He pulled out the bomb. Might as well make this interesting he thought. He opened the case and flicked another button, this time the readout went from ARMED to 999, and began to count down. He then took it and laid it down carefully in the captain's chair where it could be seen. Time to go.
He then turned and went up to the very front of the bridge, and started squeezing his way throught a gap in the main port viewer, between the now open blast shutters.
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