Bridge, battleship Retribution
6 April 742 AGS, 8:05 AM
Just one more room to search through, and this damned mission would be over. Obsessed with the thought, Ade got jumped again just when her target was in sight. A sudden quiet thump of an explosion outside, bash of foot on metal, and a male voice with Bretonian accent: "Hold your fire! Hold your fire! I wouldn't shoot if you wanna live." The loyalists already had their plasma rifles trained at the intruder before Ade could turn around and aim her pistol. The Commandant's escort didn't even speak Bretonian, but the case he carried spoke more understandable than any words. Probably louder too. But it didn't matter. What did he hear? What did he find out? Was he alone? What if someone else has fled already? Those thoughts obscured everything, and Ade missed out on the semi-joking bravado of the Bretonian.
"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." The operatives kept their guns trained at the intruder, but Ade hesitated. She didn't want to escalate things, but her orders were clear: nobody could put their hands on the data. It was more important than the lives of her and her team... or was it? Survival was paramount, almost as important as the mission. As if that conflict of interests wasn't enough, the radio was now cracking: apparently, Rousseau's team has engaged a few other intruders.
The silence lasted for a few long moments. Ade raised her gun and aimed it at the case, now speaking Bretonian; her speech was slow, with heavy Gallic accent: "We have more people. If we die, your people will die too. It is acceptable. My mission will succeed." The Commandant kept at it for a few moments; if the stranger was bluffing, these moments would've become the longest and tensest in his life. She made a step towards the Bretonian, thinking outloud just as much as talking to the stranger. "I can't let you go," another step. "But nobody needs to die. Surrender. We'll treat you fairly." As if to prove her point, the woman touched a small pin on her collar and mumbled an order in Gallic. The shooting outside stopped. "See?" the woman pointed outside, "Check."
Ade didn't quite hear what the Bretonian commanded to his people. But in the next moment it suddenly didn't matter: the brief lack of flat floor beneath everyone's feet was a more pressing concern. Whatever advantage the Gauls had was lost: Ade and one of her loyalists staggered together into the captain's quarters near the bridge, while two soldiers at the door lost their footing entirely and fell into the corridor. It would take them at least a few seconds to roll to cover and get up. More than enough time for the pesky Bretonian to retreat towards the windows, find cover and arm his ace in the hole.
Meanwhile, the Commandant came to and found herself lying on the floor in the captain's quarters. Completely staggerred by the events, she was oblivious to the fact that the Bretonian's cronies were now escaping, and that a single order to Rousseau could've prevented that. Instead, Ade's sight and mind focused on one thing: a small metallic tube without a lid, and a parchment inside. Her goal, lying on the floor next to her. She grabbed it, and only then noticed the loyalist, who had been in the captain's quarters. Recovered and ready for a fight, he nonetheless focused his attention on the Commandant, as he had been ordered to cover her. Anything else was secondary.
As they entered the bridge again, they found one of the loyalists. Shot in the chest, the soldier was trying to get up, his side against the wall. The Bretonian who had inflicted the wound jumped through the window just in time to dodge follow-up shots from Ade's pistol and her bodyguards' plasma rifles. They pursued, but got interrupted by a beeping sound coming from the case that the Bretonian had left behind. He may have been bluffing before, but was eager to leave a nasty surprise when his life wasn't at stake. The number of seconds on the timer decreased quicker than Ade would want to.
Think. The timer is ticking. Think! The blast of the nuke will be devastating. Think!!! Retribution is the only shelter. The seconds are fading. Do something! THINK! There is no other way."Alpha-One," the Commandant turned to the injured loyalist, some hesitation in her voice: "We're going out. Close the shutters behind us. Get the nuke deeper into the ship, farther away from the reactor." Ade thought for one moment, before adding: "Alpha-Four, you with Alpha-One. Help him complete the mission and get him outside the blast zone. The King commands it."
"His word is law," the two soldiers replied, almost simultaneously. Ade couldn't bear to look in the eyes of the people she could be dooming to death. Turning towards the windows, an expression of anger on her face, the Commandant shouted: "Two and Three, on me!" She was intent to follow the Bretonian and avenge her squad.
Capitaine Rousseau was anything but careless. He had sent two of his Mountaineers to shadow the retreating Bretonians and had called one APC towards the site. Late for the party or not, it could be useful. The shooting at the bridge meant that something had gone wrong, so Rousseau also ordered 5 men towards the battleship's hull, while 4 other soldiers were deploying 2 stationary Pot-de-Fer laser cannons. Whatever approached the crash site, it would be in for a piercing hot welcome.
Jumpstart was crouched low but moving fairly fast down the inside of a steep hill, moving down towards where Bulldog was. He stopped for a moment, and again took the rifle up to look through the scope.
He checked the direction he'd been in, and he found him alright. He was blackened by suit, but running full tilt straight at him. With his visor down and smokey, he wasn't able to see fully where he was going, but he was wasting no time. Shots could be heard behind him, and the glow of plasma fire passing over their heads briefly changed the color of their surroundings.
"Over here!" Jumpstart blurted, and ran out, grabbing the half singed soldier, and pulling him down to cover. The wreck was a couple dozen meters above them. They couldn't see the enemy so far, only their shots. He looked around frantically, again, thinking it out.
Then he heard the sound of the Stratocaster's engines, and his eyes widened. He grabbed Bulldog and dragged him to his feet, and they both took off running towards the bottom of the crater. More shots flew in their direction. This time, Jumpstart took a hit. They both went down. As they laid there, the Gallic soldiers could be heard shouting in the distance. He looked at himself. He felt ok, but he was smoking. He pulled his armor straps, and the plates loosened to fall off as he rolled.
That's when a machine gun could be heard behind them. More shouting could be heard from the Gauls, and Cyclone and Butterfly ran up to their position.
"Are we ever glad to see you" Jumpstart said as he jumped to his feet. Cyclone nodded, holding a frown, as he continued to lay down machine gun fire towards the Gauls. Below them in an open spot at the bottom of the crater, the Bactrian freighter was touching down. Butterfly pulled the others to run and they all began to make for the ship.
Cyclone finished his burst, and took off behind them. More weapons fire chased them all the way. As he ran he spun around to look back, and glanced up by the wreck. He could see soldiers setting up big guns near it. Looked like this was going to get interesting.
Hudson was on the outer hull of the ship now. It was madly broken and twisted in places, pocked full of holes from battle and the crash. It wasn't as easy walking as he'd hoped. Regardless, he quickly made his way farther towards the bow of the ship where they'd come from originally.
He was holding his arm, there was a little bit of blood in his hand. He'd cut himself on the transparasteel 'glass' of the broken bridge windows as he 'slipped' out.
He could hear shots again in the distance, below them. He tried to get closer to the edge to see what was happening. Suddenly shots rang over his head from the direction of the bridge. He dropped quicky. Slowly peeking back up above a piece of twisted hull plating he took cover behind, he could see the bridge window blast shutters closing. No going back that way.
Finally he heard the blast of the freighter's engines, which meant they were off the ground again. He looked down and saw the ship take off, slowly, under heavy weapons fire. Still, the ship, almost like a fat bumblebee, hovered around drunkenly for a moment, then began approaching his direction. It was making him regret not being the one in the pilot seat. He'd hoped to not have the engineer do a combat rescue today, but everyone's options were limited now.
"Alright watch out Boltcutter, swing around and come in low from the bow. You don't want to be too exposed to the Gallic troops on the other side of th-" he'd began saying over the radio, as the ship got bigger.
However, that's when large bolts of energy weapons fire began blasting out from behind the wreck in the direction of the Stratocaster. The ship took a couple of hits right off the bat, which no doubt drained a large amount of shield power right in the first moment of the attack.
"Dammit Butterfly if you're on that ship take the stick will ya? What am I paying you for anyways?" he blurted over the radio.
As he watched, he could tell something did happen, the ship sort of shifted slightly to the side, and began to speed up and straighten out.
"Roger cap, we're inbound, get ready to jump!" Butterfly responded finally.
"Jump? Uh, " he looked back at the cannon fire, "Ok I guess so. Lets do it" he replied reluctantly.
Jonas began to run towards the nose, and the ship got large and loud as it closed on him. More weapons fire began from a point higher up, adjacent to them on the ridge wall.
Suddenly the Bactrian's own turrets began to light up, and let fly a long salvo of its own. The fast rapid fire of the Flashpoint turrets destroyed the gun on the far side of the ridge.
The ship then spun around, and held itself in front of the nose, with its back side to Hudson.
"Lowering shield" she reported back.
Jonas took off as fast as he could, and the cargo bay door lowered down forming a sort of draw bridge, extending to close the gap. He sprinted and made a leap. Thankfully with the door down, the gap was only about 10 feet. He landed his upper torso on the edge, and grappled to one of the hydraulic arms holding it. He pulled himself up.
Behind him though, another gun, or perhaps the same, had been set up on the other side of the valley again, and began firing. The ship took a hit to its starboard tail 'fin', blasting it clean off with a flash. They were sent into a spin, and began to trail smoke.
Jonas leaped for the door to the inner bay, and hit the switch closing the outer hatch.
The ship regained itself a bit finally, and began to drag again like a bee.
"Shield restored" she said, just before the ship rocked hard from taking another blast. This time the shield took the brunt of it, but they likely didn't have long. Hudson busted onto the bridge frantically, jumped into the main pilot's seat and grabbed the wheel stick. Pulling back hard and yanking on the throttle, the ship arced upwards and blasted its thrusters, shooting it out of the crater, leaving a black smoke trail streaming behind it. They all found themselves glued to their seats, or knocked back onto the deck entirely. The Gallic cannon fire followed it as far as they could, and landed one last hit, knocking out the shield entirely. But with that, they were just out of range.
He then grabbed the ship's mic hanging above him, switched it to 'Local' and keyed in, "Attention Gallic forces, you have about 8 minutes before a low yield tactical nuclear bomb goes off inside the wreck of that battleship. And that's if the thing doesn't sink further into the crater first. I advise you all to evacuate the area immediately. Courtesy..." he paused, looked back at the rest, and smirked, "Of the Leeds Resistance Forces".
The minutes ticked away, it felt like much longer than 7 minutes. Alas, once they were reaching the upper atmosphere, the explosion was detected behind them. They didn't know anything more than that.
The limp back to space was not exactly the relaxing, relieving time as you might think. Everyone was on the bridge, except Jumpstart and Boltcutter, who were back inside the ship working to restore the shield.
It was a tense time as they got to space with no shield, and only about 85% hull integrity. What made things better was the appearance of a Gallic Obstinate class destroyer and a couple of Perilous class gunboats high above them, over patrolling towards the trade lane junction. Some fighters were just a bit farther out too. Hudson cut and turned the ship straight outwards, towards the smog cloud at full thrust.
"What you doing cap? Butterfly turned and asked.
"Its too hairy to try making it back to the Resistance Base. Gotta let things settle down for a bit first" he replied.
"But uh, where can we go? We'll never make it to the next system-" she said, but he cut her off.
"You guys are new, its cool. We got a place we can make repairs at in the system" he replied in a coy tone.
"What?" She questioned. She immediately turned to her map console and begin flicking around "There's nothing on any of our maps?"
"Trust me, its there" he said with a smile.
The computer's female voice then suddenly rang out "Shield Restored", and the shield readout started going back up. They both breathed a sigh of relief, as he finally engaged the cruise engines and the ship disappeared into the smog.
Battleship Retribution outer hull
6 April 742 AGS, 8:10 AM
Unstable leviathan of metal below the feet, dusty wind, and a pretty long way to fall. Ade slowly increased the pace as she got more and more adjusted to this course full of hurdles. The distant silhouette of a man she pursued grew smaller and smaller, occasionally disappearing behind the twisted metal of the hull. The few shots that she managed to take while not running went far off target. The loyalists would've fared better, but they followed the order to the letter and didn't rush far ahead of their Commandant. Their plasma rifle shots were also more precise, but at this range the Bretonian wouldn't have too hard of a time dodging them.
Meanwhile, the blast shutters on the bridge behind them closed, sealing the makeshift iron mausoleum, along with the bomb and two people. Ade's people. Loyal to a fault; too loyal for their own good. Ade didn't know if they'd have enough time to ferry the bomb somewhere safe and then gain enough distance. She didn't even know if the hull would shield the people outside from the blast. Right now it didn't matter. What mattered was making sure that the information from the ship didn't get out. The fact that the order aligned perfectly with Ade's desire to punish the cocky Bretonian made it easier. She and her loyalists rushed forward, guns blazing.
Then the fat and ugly freighter appeared at the bow of the crashed battleship. Ade wasn't sure what drunkard designed it, but had to note his or her lacking sense of finesse as she continued to shoot. A futile attempt: the distance and the wind prevented almost all chances of landing a hit. Every pull of the trigger further ignited Ade's anger and frustration. The Bretonians were a thorn in her side, sure, but it didn't matter; what mattered was the fact that they may have found out. And the Commandant had no way to stop them.
A spark of hope glinted as a laser volley cut clean one of the ship's fins. The Mountaineers sure knew their stuff, and for a brief moment Ade was even willing to forgive all veiled taunts from Capitaine Rousseau. But the damned freighter proved sturdier than expected, and with the Bretonian aboard, there was no need to keep the shields lowered. Ade and her loyalists fired for as long as they could, a trail of smoke suggesting they were doing damage. Eventually the freighter was so far that even the laser turret stopped firing. The smoky trail remained visible for a while longer, before disappearing behind a cloud.
Ade scoffed in futile anger, her teeth clenched as she kicked the old damaged metal of the hull, staring at her feet. A quick flurry of quiet, but emotional obscenities in Gallic followed, but exhausted itself soon enough. For a few moments, everyone was silent. But then a small vibration on the Commandant's collar comm device indicated a message. Instinctively, she turned on the radio, only to hear the male voice with Bretonian accent that she had learned to hate by then. "Attention Gallic forces, you have about 8 minutes before a low yield tactical nuclear bomb goes off inside the wreck of that battleship. And that's if the thing doesn't sink further into the crater first. I advise you all to evacuate the area immediately. Courtesy... of the Leeds Resistance Forces!"
"We should get down," a calm remark of one of the two remaining loyalists took Ade out of her angered stupor. "Make it so," the woman replied quietly, in an almost resigned tone. Nevertheless, she trotted with the two soldiers down the side of the hull. The Gallic camp towards which they were running was already on high alert and resembled a stirred-up hornet's nest. The captain was in the middle, barking orders; the solidiers were running around, seemingly disorganized, but actually grabbing as much as they could carry. Two people were prepping a makeshift litter out of a tent to carry the wounded.
Ade's arrival in a few minutes was left almost unnoticed. The captain was too busy leading his people out of the camp and to the other side of the hill, to get as much distance as possible. He gestured with his hand, instructing his people to run, and then waited a few moments to ensure nobody was left behind, and he'd be the last one out. He clearly saw Ade and her team running among his soldiers, but it didn't matter at the moment. They were behind a hill, and they wouldn't run off much farther.
Exhausted, Ade was barely standing. But then the ground shook, forcing the Commandant and everyone else to fall. The quake was instantly followed by a thousand blasts of thunder at the same time. But by that time everything had gone black for Ade.
Less that 12 hours later the ship was spaceborn again. Not exactly "brand new" but in good enough shape to make it back to Leeds. A call came in about in incoming convoy of Munitions. They couldn't lay low any longer.
The freighter cleared the East Smog cloud, from that point where the smog reaches closest point to the planet. It was the trailing off of planetary waste emissions that have been feeding the smog clouds for centures. Sadly, the war had not made a rough situation any better when it came to the planetary and system environment.
Jonas was in the cockpit, peering over the scanner. As they approached the atmosphere, a few clicks out a small squadron of Gallic Royal Navy fighters were in a dogfight with a ground based BAF fighter patrol. It was a 3 vs 3 situation. He'd love to help, but everyone had their jobs to do, and high altitude dogfights were no picnic in a Freighter. It was only a harassement attack anyways. Once he made sure they were a safe distance away, they entered the atmosphere.
"Take the controls Butterfly, keep us on course for the Resistance base. Let our people know we'll be able to take some refugees, and to have 'em ready" Jonas ordered as he unstrapped and stood as straight as he could. He grabbed the mic hanging from above, "Now hear this, all crew report to the bridge"
A few minutes passed, and slowly the rest of the crew clamoured their way up into the forward section, and formed a circle behind the jumpseats. Cyclone, Bulldog, Jumpstart and Boltcutter were looking about the same as usual. They'd only barely bothered to clean up after their little fiasco at the wreck. They weren't the type to care. The sound of the engines and the whirle of air ripping past the hull outside created a constant dull hum.
"Whats up cap?" Cyclone was the first to ask "Don't tell me you found us another pot 'o' gold at the end of rainbow already?" he said half sarcastically with an obvious smile on his face.
"Just an update. No, we've got other things to do thankfully. But, you can all rest satisfied that we extracted a large amount of data from that wreck. It was encrypted, so we don't know what's there yet. We did manage to learn the name of the ship. It was called the Retribution. I'll be having it checked out. In the meantime, I've got a Research Corps with a Reconnaissance Module working on sifting through any data that might still be retrieveable." He explained, "Other than that, I want to say, good work folks. All of you did well. It was a tough trip. Way more happened than we'd hoped for. We may have wound up a little burnt, but it may still yet prove to be worth it. "
"Aww shucks cap, you're making me blush" Bulldog joked, then going from a straight face to wide smile and hefty laugh, all while still wearing his visor down, looking like a semi-midieval goof.
The rest let a few chuckles out. As they laughed, some turbulence started to effect them, causing a shutter, breaking the humor for a serious moment. Everyone instinctively began reaching for a bulkhead nearby.
"Coming in for a landing folks, 3 minutes, everyone please strap in!" Butterfly exclaimed as she was visibly fighting with the control wheel, but managing to maintain control. Everyone quietly broke up and moved to land in a seat.
Hudson fell back into his seat and strapped in. He looked over the readouts and let Butterfly complete her pre-landing procedures. Most of the flight systems were automated, but on these old Bactrians, you still had to switch over from horizontal to vertical flight modes and land it manually. It was sometimes a hassle, but it also kept a pilot sharp. Otherwise, one could go soft being able to kick their feet back while landing and taking off.
He thought back about the wreck. He was still a little worried. He realized that in his haste, he did jump out undisguised in front of a bunch of highly armored 'advanced' Gallic troopers. That can sometimes mean bodycams. Their officer seemed quite unique as well. Some kind of special operative? he thought. He kicked himself for not being able to get pictures. He wondered if they'd taken any recordings themselves of his face... or if any of them survived to pass on what happened. If he'd been processed by facial recognition, they might be able to identify him. They could also tie his face to the LRF period.
His brow tightned as he tried to brush it off as probably nothing. Still, he wondered if it was a good time to let his beard grow in.
Edge of the containment zone
6 April 742 AGS, 9:30 AM
At the moment Ade wouldn't trade the camp bunk inside a tent for anything, even the soft bed back at home. All for one reason: it would imply she'd have to get up. And after what she had been through that day, that was out of the question. That, and the bruise on her temple was still hurting too.
She had come to a few minutes after the explosion, to hear capitaine Rousseau barking orders and requesting reinforcements to secure the area and set up containment zone. Nobody would get in or out of the area without permission or notice. That aligned with the Commandant's orders perfectly. With too few people on site, and a lot of work ahead, even the officers had to step in and do the jobs not befitting their stature. Ade was no exception, but had been too exhausted by her previous adventure, so she spent about half an hour treating the wonded and hoping that the people se had left behind would show up.
The chances of that were slim: the bomb detonation hadn't destroyed the battleship or even split it in two. But there was no telling what it had done on the inside. To top it off, the explosion also shifted the battleship, making it slide down the slope for a hundred meters or so. For the people inside, that meant that the floor was skewed by 30 degrees now; the devastation inside had probably produced a lot of debris. To top it off, the radiation readings have increased substantilaly. It rendered scanners useless and forced to wait for decon and rescue teams.
Ade didn't remember how she had gotten from helping the wounded to resting in the tent. It was all a blur. Regardless, it was a welcome change. She checked her pocket and found her prize: the metallic tube with a letter. A moment of hesitation didn't prevent curiosity from getting the better of her, and Ade fished the container out of her pocket and opened the letter:
We all hope you are doing well. The news of the Représailles' success in Languedoc have reached Ile-de-France and even Palais Royal. I am truly proud of what you have achieved, and of the part we could play in that.
I also know of the damage your flagship sustained in Tau-23. You have to give Kusarians some credit, their Hatchet destroyers are truly ingenious: agile and perfect for asteroid field warfare. That philosophy is something we could borrow from them and improve even further. Rest assured, nobody here holds you at fault for that little fiasco. You have done your duty to the best of your abilities.
The Représailles will be repaired, your wounds will heal, and soon you'll be on the frontlines again. Leeds is our next goal. Make us proud. Give the Bretonians no quarter, and never give up. The King commands it. I know you will make us all proud time and time again.
Cordialement,
Le Professeur
Apparently, Ade wasn't the only one whom le Professeur honored with written messages. She liked the feel and smell of the parchments, but this time was different. The usually-pleasant scent now felt slightly chemical and repulsive, and didn't evoke any pleasant memories. Ade put the letter back into the container and pocketed it, along with the data storage module.
The Commandant and her people risked their lives for just these two items. They couldn't have predicted Bretonian intruders, but in the end the data was safe. The only better outcome would have been the capture of the Bretonians, but it could wait. Helmet recorders must have picked up the stranger's face. Soon Ade would either know who he was, or inform all Gallic forces on Leeds to be on the lookout. But that could wait.
For the moment, Ade had all that she needed. The secrets thather superiors wanted so much to cover up would remain hidden until the time of revelation comes.
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A handwritten letter found at the Retribution crash site at Moore Ridge, planet Leeds