06-08-2014, 07:23 PM
The assault group vanished into the city of Jeddah, leaving the fire-base group alone amid the flames and smoke of the destroyed planes. Their weapons were silent, the Legionnaires carefully adjusting their positions as the sounds of fighting faded into the distance.
There was still the sounds of fighting throughout the city, and far to the east a red glow marked the fires that raged in holy Mecca. That grim glow drew the gaze of the Legionnaires more then once. Few had stepped foot so close to the holiest site of their religion, and all they could see of it was the flames of war.
Finally supplied with the access to the satellites, Jacques quickly discovered that a portion of the city was hidden from him. Security clearance far higher then what the Vega could provide him with left a portion of eastern Jeddah hidden beneath an unchanging image. No live images could be gleaned from it.
Just what was the CCD up to? No angle he tried could give him a view of that part of the city, and in the end he could do little but hope that should trouble be brewing there, the extraction team would be tracking it and inform him.
Using the satellites, Jacques was able to track the movement of his assault group and of the enemy forces, which swarmed away from the airport to give chase. They had taken the bait, and the next few hours was spent coordinating their movement and providing them with over-watch.
Despite the enemy's numbers, the Legionnaires were always able to stay one step ahead of them; they had a more coherent command structure, they had active communications, they had training, and they had eyes in the sky.
The operation at the university went perfectly, and the convoy was bolstered by a large industrial bulldozer and a series of dump trucks, the thick metal sides of which would provide some cover for the noncombatants located within.
From the university it was south, towards the naval port,and his men responded in near perfect unison when the order came to suddenly turn east and towards Um Salama Hospital. It was there the first of his men made their stand; the enemy was proving surprisingly mobile. The concentration of enemy combatants in that area had been greater then he had expected when the assault group first started moving, before he had access to the satellites.
At his command, the mic and camera feeds of Sgt Wilks and his men were displayed on one of the screens, and Jacques afforded it most of his attention even as he continued to coordinate the convoy's movements, tracking the departure of a large group of armed men south-bound from the hospital.
The Legionnaires were singing as they died, and he glanced at the seemingly emotionless Vega at his side. "Le Bedouin. It is our song."
He smiled with a mixture of sorrow and pride as the cameras winked out, or gave immobile views of the sky or the earth.
The Legionnaires manning the command post were recording the stand. They were recording everything; every word spoken by the assault group, every man's camera feed. They sat unflinching even as tears of pride appeared on men's faces as the song rose to a crescendo and yet dimmed as the number of voices carrying it diminished.
"Tiens, voilà du boudin, voilà du boudin, voilà du boudin
Pour les Alsaciens, les Suisses et les Lorrains.
Pour les Belges y en a plus.
Pour les Belges y en a plus.
Ce sont des tireurs au cul.
Pour les Belges y en a plus.
Pour les Belges y en a plus.
Ce sont des tireurs au cul!"
Even as his emotions raged, Jacques could carry a tune. He sung with pride, and he leaned in closer to the display as if to steady himself as Sgt Wilks was beaten and born to the ground. "Ad anum."
That last was little more then a choked whisper before the image displayed one gloved fist clutching a hand grenade, and then it was gone.
He stood tall then, clasping his hands tightly in the small of his back, and turned his attention away. Their stand had bought the convoy the time it had needed to surround and secure the hospital. Already Legionnaires were moving inside; a short gunfight, more brothers lost. And the hospital was theirs. The enemy was halted, and began to swarm, drawing in from the south and north; those that had chased them from the airport finally catching up.
His men marked enemy positions and movement; buildings were flagged red as occupied. Fields of fire markers began to light up the screen as squads settled in and prepared. Images from in the hospital were surprisingly calm, all things considered. And then their VIPs were found.
His conversation with Michael and Dr Weston was relatively short and to the point. One of his men indicated they had contact with the extraction team; the VTOLs were thirty minutes out and ready to move in on request.
And then his convoy was on the move again, and word was given for the extraction team to move in. His mortar teams were ready; they were nearly out of ammo, but more was on the inbound VTOLs, or so he was promised. Belts of ammo for the .50s as well. And more then enough craft to take everyone out.
The convoy reached the mall, and laagered there for a time, extracting more CCD civilians. And then they moved north.
Jacques did not freeze. He did not hesitate, or curse, or loose his composure. Save for his hands. The grip there turned his knuckles white. The satellite feed showed insurgents moving west, out of the sensored part of the city. Hundreds, bound not only for the highway his men were travelling north on, but chasing something on highway 320 west bound too.
He cycled the image to the edge of the sensored area, and soon enough was met with the view of a group of CCD military APCs rolling slowly down the road towards the overpasses into the airport. And as they emerged, he was sudden graced with a signal from them.
"This is Lieutenant Colonel Romanov. I am escorting civilians and VIPs. Priority passage with extraction team. Over."
Jacques glanced briefly at the Vega at his side, his expression...cold. The sounds of the VTOLs approaching the airfield could be heard over the roar of the flames. The satellite image displayed two VTOLs flying north, low over the city towards the CCD convoy, weapons firing at targets on the ground.
"This is Jacques Danjou. Commander of this rescue operation. Understood. Out."
He began coordinating with his staff, and markers were placed on the north side of the overpasses, covering the wide fields that overlooked the highways.
Romanov spoke up again, the muffled sound of rounds pinging dangerously off the side of the man's hard-skinned vehicle. "Civilians do NOT out me, mercenary."
"Lieutenant. Monitor all further comms with that bastard. And shut him the hell up."
His entire posture had changed, subtly. His back was straighter, his voice firmer as orders were given. A line in the sand was to be drawn. The assault group would be on the airport before the CCD convoy, and that group would be over-run before they could reach the extraction point.
Orders were given, and icons indicating his men's positions began to move with greater urgency. Within minutes, eight vanished as a gas station exploded, the flash and column of flames clearly seen even from the fire-base. Others fought hand-to-hand in alleys or buildings as their ammo began to run out, or endurance faded.
VTOLs began to touch down just north of the fire-base team, and additional CCD troops began to pile out to bolster the fire-base perimeter. They carried cases of mortar rounds and .50 ammo, and Legionnaire runners met them and began leading them towards the necessary weapon positions.
The arrival of the CCD aircraft ended the silence of the Legion fire-base. The mortars opened up again, raining death on the insurgents chasing both the assault group and the CCD convoy. He hadn't enough to hold the enemy at bay, but it slowed and scattered them.
And then they stopped; first one, who barked a worried warning to another group, who stopped. Then another group, and eventually all of them. Arguments broke out. African Legionnaires tore open the boxes of mortars the CCD had delivered and pulled open ammo cans of.50 belts, and all came to a horrifying realization. They had brought CCD ammunition. Caseless ammo. CCD military technology was decades ahead of what the Legion used.
"It's useless sir. All of it."
He glanced to the member of his command staff that delivered the message, and just nodded. There was nothing to be done about it now. They had boxes and boxes of ammunition, enough to cover the assault group's withdrawl after the CCD convoy had reached safety.
They just didn't have any weapons that could fire it.
The two VTOLs covering the CCD convoy were plucked from the sky. One was struck dead-center by a MPAD (man portable air defense weapon). It exploded and spun out of the sky to crash into an apartment block. One that had shown dozens of heat signatures. Families hiding from the violence.
The second was hit in the tail and it crashed to the earth on the airport grounds far to the south of the fire base, then exploded in a rain of debris.
And then the assault group convoy burst onto the airport grounds. They avoided the over passes, and the lead dozer pushed concrete barricades and cars and earth into the irrigation ditch that ran on the north side of highway 320, filling the gap. The dump trucks rumbled across next, and Legionnaires began to fan out at a dead run, a final burst of speed to start occupying firing positions.
Edited by Jacques, Jun 8 2014, 07:29 PM.
There was still the sounds of fighting throughout the city, and far to the east a red glow marked the fires that raged in holy Mecca. That grim glow drew the gaze of the Legionnaires more then once. Few had stepped foot so close to the holiest site of their religion, and all they could see of it was the flames of war.
Finally supplied with the access to the satellites, Jacques quickly discovered that a portion of the city was hidden from him. Security clearance far higher then what the Vega could provide him with left a portion of eastern Jeddah hidden beneath an unchanging image. No live images could be gleaned from it.
Just what was the CCD up to? No angle he tried could give him a view of that part of the city, and in the end he could do little but hope that should trouble be brewing there, the extraction team would be tracking it and inform him.
Using the satellites, Jacques was able to track the movement of his assault group and of the enemy forces, which swarmed away from the airport to give chase. They had taken the bait, and the next few hours was spent coordinating their movement and providing them with over-watch.
Despite the enemy's numbers, the Legionnaires were always able to stay one step ahead of them; they had a more coherent command structure, they had active communications, they had training, and they had eyes in the sky.
The operation at the university went perfectly, and the convoy was bolstered by a large industrial bulldozer and a series of dump trucks, the thick metal sides of which would provide some cover for the noncombatants located within.
From the university it was south, towards the naval port,and his men responded in near perfect unison when the order came to suddenly turn east and towards Um Salama Hospital. It was there the first of his men made their stand; the enemy was proving surprisingly mobile. The concentration of enemy combatants in that area had been greater then he had expected when the assault group first started moving, before he had access to the satellites.
At his command, the mic and camera feeds of Sgt Wilks and his men were displayed on one of the screens, and Jacques afforded it most of his attention even as he continued to coordinate the convoy's movements, tracking the departure of a large group of armed men south-bound from the hospital.
The Legionnaires were singing as they died, and he glanced at the seemingly emotionless Vega at his side. "Le Bedouin. It is our song."
He smiled with a mixture of sorrow and pride as the cameras winked out, or gave immobile views of the sky or the earth.
The Legionnaires manning the command post were recording the stand. They were recording everything; every word spoken by the assault group, every man's camera feed. They sat unflinching even as tears of pride appeared on men's faces as the song rose to a crescendo and yet dimmed as the number of voices carrying it diminished.
"Tiens, voilà du boudin, voilà du boudin, voilà du boudin
Pour les Alsaciens, les Suisses et les Lorrains.
Pour les Belges y en a plus.
Pour les Belges y en a plus.
Ce sont des tireurs au cul.
Pour les Belges y en a plus.
Pour les Belges y en a plus.
Ce sont des tireurs au cul!"
Even as his emotions raged, Jacques could carry a tune. He sung with pride, and he leaned in closer to the display as if to steady himself as Sgt Wilks was beaten and born to the ground. "Ad anum."
That last was little more then a choked whisper before the image displayed one gloved fist clutching a hand grenade, and then it was gone.
He stood tall then, clasping his hands tightly in the small of his back, and turned his attention away. Their stand had bought the convoy the time it had needed to surround and secure the hospital. Already Legionnaires were moving inside; a short gunfight, more brothers lost. And the hospital was theirs. The enemy was halted, and began to swarm, drawing in from the south and north; those that had chased them from the airport finally catching up.
His men marked enemy positions and movement; buildings were flagged red as occupied. Fields of fire markers began to light up the screen as squads settled in and prepared. Images from in the hospital were surprisingly calm, all things considered. And then their VIPs were found.
His conversation with Michael and Dr Weston was relatively short and to the point. One of his men indicated they had contact with the extraction team; the VTOLs were thirty minutes out and ready to move in on request.
And then his convoy was on the move again, and word was given for the extraction team to move in. His mortar teams were ready; they were nearly out of ammo, but more was on the inbound VTOLs, or so he was promised. Belts of ammo for the .50s as well. And more then enough craft to take everyone out.
The convoy reached the mall, and laagered there for a time, extracting more CCD civilians. And then they moved north.
Jacques did not freeze. He did not hesitate, or curse, or loose his composure. Save for his hands. The grip there turned his knuckles white. The satellite feed showed insurgents moving west, out of the sensored part of the city. Hundreds, bound not only for the highway his men were travelling north on, but chasing something on highway 320 west bound too.
He cycled the image to the edge of the sensored area, and soon enough was met with the view of a group of CCD military APCs rolling slowly down the road towards the overpasses into the airport. And as they emerged, he was sudden graced with a signal from them.
"This is Lieutenant Colonel Romanov. I am escorting civilians and VIPs. Priority passage with extraction team. Over."
Jacques glanced briefly at the Vega at his side, his expression...cold. The sounds of the VTOLs approaching the airfield could be heard over the roar of the flames. The satellite image displayed two VTOLs flying north, low over the city towards the CCD convoy, weapons firing at targets on the ground.
"This is Jacques Danjou. Commander of this rescue operation. Understood. Out."
He began coordinating with his staff, and markers were placed on the north side of the overpasses, covering the wide fields that overlooked the highways.
Romanov spoke up again, the muffled sound of rounds pinging dangerously off the side of the man's hard-skinned vehicle. "Civilians do NOT out me, mercenary."
"Lieutenant. Monitor all further comms with that bastard. And shut him the hell up."
His entire posture had changed, subtly. His back was straighter, his voice firmer as orders were given. A line in the sand was to be drawn. The assault group would be on the airport before the CCD convoy, and that group would be over-run before they could reach the extraction point.
Orders were given, and icons indicating his men's positions began to move with greater urgency. Within minutes, eight vanished as a gas station exploded, the flash and column of flames clearly seen even from the fire-base. Others fought hand-to-hand in alleys or buildings as their ammo began to run out, or endurance faded.
VTOLs began to touch down just north of the fire-base team, and additional CCD troops began to pile out to bolster the fire-base perimeter. They carried cases of mortar rounds and .50 ammo, and Legionnaire runners met them and began leading them towards the necessary weapon positions.
The arrival of the CCD aircraft ended the silence of the Legion fire-base. The mortars opened up again, raining death on the insurgents chasing both the assault group and the CCD convoy. He hadn't enough to hold the enemy at bay, but it slowed and scattered them.
And then they stopped; first one, who barked a worried warning to another group, who stopped. Then another group, and eventually all of them. Arguments broke out. African Legionnaires tore open the boxes of mortars the CCD had delivered and pulled open ammo cans of.50 belts, and all came to a horrifying realization. They had brought CCD ammunition. Caseless ammo. CCD military technology was decades ahead of what the Legion used.
"It's useless sir. All of it."
He glanced to the member of his command staff that delivered the message, and just nodded. There was nothing to be done about it now. They had boxes and boxes of ammunition, enough to cover the assault group's withdrawl after the CCD convoy had reached safety.
They just didn't have any weapons that could fire it.
The two VTOLs covering the CCD convoy were plucked from the sky. One was struck dead-center by a MPAD (man portable air defense weapon). It exploded and spun out of the sky to crash into an apartment block. One that had shown dozens of heat signatures. Families hiding from the violence.
The second was hit in the tail and it crashed to the earth on the airport grounds far to the south of the fire base, then exploded in a rain of debris.
And then the assault group convoy burst onto the airport grounds. They avoided the over passes, and the lead dozer pushed concrete barricades and cars and earth into the irrigation ditch that ran on the north side of highway 320, filling the gap. The dump trucks rumbled across next, and Legionnaires began to fan out at a dead run, a final burst of speed to start occupying firing positions.
Edited by Jacques, Jun 8 2014, 07:29 PM.