MINE TOO PLEASEANDTHANKYOU
The bioweapons program has "vanished."
CONFOUND YOU TANI!! IT WAS VITAL TO MY ROLEPLAY!!
Speaking of which, time to play world-events catch-up:
“They
what?!”
The President lurched forward, almost poised to spring from his chair. He tried to relax, but his posture remained stock-straight; to the most attentive eyes, one would note a slight waver in the hand constricting its grip around the receiver. “No,” he said sharply, “Not until I’ve discussed this with Parliament.” His eyes flicked to the Director-General, seated patiently in a simple chair to the left across from the desk. “Yes, I understand. ... No, that’s perfectly alright. ... I’ll respond in due course.” He set the receiver onto the hook and slowly leaned back in his chair, staring straight forward as if in a trance. After a few seconds, he inhaled sharply as if coming back to life. “Russia’s hit Finland,” he sputtered, as if disbelieving his own statement.
The Director-General nodded.
The President’s face flashed through anger, fear and incredulity. He gritted his teeth. “I thought we could
trust them,” he hissed. “I mean, I
know there were warning signs, but—”
“They were not the Soviet Union you hoped they would be.”
He nodded, slowly, rubbing his eyes. “The international response has been immediate... I really don?t see how we can defend them.”
“What Russia does is not your responsibility,” said the Director-General matter-of-factly. “They have chosen their course; it’s not what
we would have preferred; we will have to adapt.”
He nodded slowly, gaze unfocused. After a few seconds, he opened the drawer, withdrew a folder, and mechanically flipped through its contents. He held a page aloft, peering at it as though it contained some complex mathematical formula. “I suppose we have little choice but to adopt auxiliary protocol,” he muttered. Setting the sheet back down, he picked up the phone and punched in a set of numbers. “Presidential Office. Is Yaozu available?..”
------------------------------
The comm centre was abuzz with activity not seen since the War of the Five Profits, just prior to the Third Cataclysm. The room was filled with incessant clicking of computer keys as controllers pored over their displays, relaying statistics through their headsets in a beehive of data transfer. It resembled something out of mission control from any number of space centres past or present, and for good reason; while the International Space Programme was unlikely to recover for some decades yet, if ever, the operators were in control of sensitive equipment whose use would, at the present moment, determine life and death.
“Delta-5, online.”
“Phi-12, online.”
“Epsilon-8, online.”
When the Coruscantis announced the release of a public inventory on orbiting satellites, Strategic Weapons Command nearly had a heart attack. Brass knew from historical precedent that the Cataclysm would knock out the network; but while surface-to-orbit strikes against rival equipment was not unknown in past conflicts, the idea that an outside party would actually
accost satellites had been, until quite recently, totally unthinkable even by the most audacious military powers. Shortly thereafter, ‘Directive DE-A’ began circulating through high-level briefings; it was an extreme and dangerous response, but with the integrity of the ABM net officially classed compromised, there was almost no doubt the Director-General would approve its implementation.
Suggestions were made to knock the satellites out of orbit; they were, after all, mostly out of date even before the crash, and until the Chinese space programme was back on its feet there was no way to safely salvage the equipment without further jeopardizing national security. The Minister of Defence eventually convinced brass to keep them running for as long as it could; even if Coruscant had catalogued the units, they might not have conducted full technical specs. Brass agreed, reasoning a compromised defence was still better than no defence at all.
“Fox Black, this is Eagle Eye. Overwatch is operational. Locate the target and provide co-ordinates. Eagle Eye out.”
The squad leader signalled, and the soldiers carefully stood up. It was not a preferred path of patrol; the valley was rocky and bare, leaving little cover, and traversing high up the slope made them noticeable. Nevertheless, it was preferable to being caught at the bottom and surrounded.
“Truck! 7 o’clock, 800 metres,” said a corporal. The team hit the dirt and the sergeant fiddled with his binoculars.
“Off-road, open-top, mounted gun. Driver, gunner, one passenger... two men on foot. Snow,” he addressed the squad’s sharpshooter, “See if you can immobilize it.”
Keeping low, the sniper made his way further up the embankment before setting up. He peered through the scope, tracking the truck as it slowly rolled along through the valley. After a few seconds of mental calculations, he gave a thumbs-up.
“Engage at 500 metres. On his shot, weapons free.” The squad trained their guns on the patrol as it trode on oblivious. They waited, patiently, as the marauders slowly drew closer, the truck kicking up a low dust cloud. The sergeant and a private kept a constant scan of the squad’s flanks; this was
not the place to be ambushed oneself.
“In range.”
“Take him out.”
A sharp crack. The squad lay down suppressing fire as Snow readjusted. Rock and sand exploded around them before the truck’s gunner fell. The marauders’ weapons were outdated, and it showed; in less than a minute, the skirmish was over.
“Clear.” The squad cautiously picked itself up and moved on. “Eagle Eye, Fox Black. We’ve eliminated a five-man patrol, over.”
“Received. We should have satellite coverage over your area in a few minutes. Eagle Eye out.”
They continued a little more hurriedly. As they rounded the hillside, the leader threw up his hand. He gestured to lay low as he scanned he horizon. “Down!” he hissed, and they all dropped. “Get to cover.” They crawled over to whatever outlying rocks could shield them. Soon enough, they could hear it too: engines, and the squeak of wheels that hadn’t been properly maintained for some time.
Moving through the valley in the opposite direction were two trucks supported by an IFV. The squad watched in nervous silence as the patrol rolled down toward the one they had just taken out. Only when the noise died away did anyone breathe again.
“
Damn it,” muttered the sergeant.
“It’s not going to be fun getting back,” said another corporal.
“OK, we need to move fast. Come on.” The squad rose and hurried down the valley where their profile wouldn’t be as noticeable. “Fox Black to Eagle Eye. We just spotted an armoured patrol; we do
not have adequate anti-tank provisions; requesting support, over.”
“Understood, Fox. Air support is on the way. Proceed with mission plan, out.”
The squad crossed over to the other side of the valley. As they crested the hillside, a complex came into view a little ways off. “I think we found it,” muttered Snow.
The squad lay down as the sergeant surveyed the base. “This is
way too large for a marauder base,” he remarked. He zoomed in closer; there were at least a dozen tanks and more soldiers than he could count. An old Tiller helicopter appeared about to take off. “Eagle Eye, this is Fox Black. We found the base, but it doesn’t look like any Marauder camp
I’ve seen. I count at least a dozen tanks and probably two- to three-hundred personnel at—
dammit!” He ducked instinctively as a bullet thudded into the ground behind him. “Under fire! Over!”
“Copy, Fox. Overwatch is in position. What are the co-ordinates, over?”
The sergeant gestured for the squad to pull back. He ducked again as more shots spattered around him. “0-2-4-0-6-8, over.”
“Received; get yourself out of there. Air support should reach you momentarily.”
The sergeant grabbed his gun and ran to join up with the rest of the squad. “Keep low and keep formation; we’re getting the hell out of here,” he barked. They beat a hasty retreat back through the valley, clinging to rocky outcroppings. The odds were not in their favour; against a mechanized enemy that knew where they were, they stood little chance. Just as they put the base out of sight, they ran into the patrol from earlier. “Get down,
get DOWN!!” But it was too late; the IFV was already training its barrel in their direction.
Suddenly, the patrol exploded.
The whole unit looked up in amazement as two Silver Darts roared overhead. “That was
too close,” growled a private. The VTOLs circled around; there was a sound between a buzz and a hiss, repeating in short bursts, as the Darts loosed their autocannons on a pursuit patrol.
“Merlin Red to Fox Black: sorry we’re a little behind schedule, over.”
“Merlin, you gave us one hell of a scare! Any later and I wouldn’t be chastising you. Glad you could make it, over.”
“Eagle Eye to all units: overwatch ready to fire. Clear target area 0-2-4-0-6-8, over.”
“Fox Black clear, over.”
“Merlin Red clear, over.”
“Overwatch firing for effect. Stand by.|
The sergeant turned back toward the base. “Begging your pardon, sir,” a soldier spoke up, “But we can’t
see anything from here.”
“We?ll see
something,” he grinned, “Keep a close watch.”
It was so brief, the eye could easily miss it: a column of light seeming to descend from the heavens. There was a bright flash and a loud hum, followed by the sound of exploding munitions and collapsing buildings. On the ground, in the air, and inside the comm centre, everyone let out their breath.
“Strike confirmed,” reported headquarters. “Merlin, search the area for stragglers. Fox, proceed to extraction; Dhole Yellow will take over from you. Eagle Eye out.”