WELCOME TO HELL 6: END OF THE LINE, PART ONE (1/2)
There must be a beginning of any great matter, but the continuing unto the end
until it be thoroughly finished yields the true glory. - Sir Francis Drake
The greater the obstacle, the more the glory in overcoming it. Moliere
The meek shall inherit the Earth, the rest of us will go to the stars.
Heinlein
21st February 2681 (2861.052) 0900 CST
“Fears are rising today over the possibility of a
galactic pandemic after multiple outbreaks of a
deadly new disease has been reported.
“The first case of the plague seems to have
originated with the SS Hispaniola. The civilian
freighter Hispaniola reportedly salvaged a
Nephilim vessel and the alien ship seems to have
been carrying a plague that rapidly killed the
staff of the research lab they had delivered the
salvaged alien vessel to. The infection was so
deadly that biohazard protocols demanded that the
entire research station and her crew were forced
to self-destruct yesterday. The Hispanioia had
left the research station two days ago and has
not been heard from since. She should be
considered a plague vessel and other ships are
warned not to board her but to simply report her position to the authorities.”
“The infection is fatal and at this time has no
cure, or even any effective form of treatment.
The precise cause of the disease is unknown but
all known outbreaks have been traced to contact
with the alien organisms known as the ‘Nephilim’.
The booming black market trade in debris from
destroyed alien vessels as souvenirs has helped
spread the deadly disease, the hideous symptoms
of which start with a severe skin rash followed
by the skin thinning and becoming transparent
before finally the internal organs liquefy as the
corruption rapidly spreads through the body.
“Whether the disease can be spread person to
person or only from direct contact with Nephilim
material is as yet an unanswered question. If it
is the former case then experts hold out little
hope of containing the contagion before it sweeps
through human inhabited space.
“Confederation medical agencies are currently
saying that there is no need to panic but our own
experts have expressed their doubts at this
official line. Dr Barry Scott, of the Leslie
Chambers institute talked to us at the
Confederation News Network earlier today:”
The picture cut to a thin man with grey wispy
hair to match in a white lab coat. “Even if a
vaccine or cure is found, time is running out. If
the disease spreads too fast it will be
impossible to produce the drugs and treat
patients fast enough to prevent the spread of the plague.”
The holoscreen returned to the image of the
irritatingly ever-smiling newsreader, “It is
likely in that event that only government
officials and essential workers will be given the
medication, in the hope of preventing total
social and economic breakdown on infected worlds.
“Several local system authorities have set up
quarantine measures and the Vega and Sol systems
have been entirely closed to incoming traffic,
with military patrols blockading the jump points
in the hope of preventing the fatal infection from entering the system.
“Torgo Superbase is the latest and largest victim
of the plague with its medical facilities swamped
and already overwhelmed less than 24 hours after
the first reported case. A request for a hospital
ship has been made but as yet Confederation
authorities have not agreed to send one until
more information on the disease emerges. By then,
of course, it may be too late for those in the Torgo system.
“It seems that the greatest threat these Nephilim
fleets pose to mankind is not the feared ‘ship
killer’ weapons of mass destruction but rather
the unknown pathogens their defeated corpses may harbour.”
Same Time, SS Boudicca
“Well that fucks that, then,” Paul Metcalfe
groaned as the newsreader finished speaking.
“Don’t worry,” Jackson reassured him, “we’ve
still made a tidy profit. Prices were dropping
anyway. That tight-arsed bastard on dock three
wouldn’t offer us half what we got per tonne for the first load.”
“You’re probably right. I think we’ve scooped up
most of the larger chunks in-system anyway. We'd
just use more fuel finding and chasing smaller pieces of debris.”
“Exactly,” Jackson agreed, “cuts down the profit margin.”
“So what now?” Metcalfe asked.
“We’ll have to ditch the cargo scoop for a start.
The ship itself should be OK. We put everything
into containers before storing it in the hold.
We’ll sandblast and disinfect the hold anyway,
treat it with full biohazard precautions but I reckon it’ll be OK to sell on.”
“You don’t sound worried,” said Metcalfe.
“Don’t sweat it, I've dealt with things like this
before. We’ll be fine, we never handled the stuff ourselves.”
“We better get on with it, then. One of us will
have to go out there and uncouple the scoop
manually. We can’t risk doing it in drydock.”
“We’ll do it together,” Jackson agreed, “It’s
just about a two-man job anyway. And we’ll have
to ditch the EVA suits afterwards, too. Just to be on the safe side.”
“Yeah. I hate running without them, but if we’re
going to be docking at a station we won't need them. And if anything happens…”
Jackson shrugged, “The chances of getting suited
up in the event of a serious hull-breach or
pressure loss are at best minimal anyway. We’ll
just have to take our chances. Keep your fingers crossed,” he laughed.
“Righto,” Metcalfe made a show of crossing the
fingers on both hands, “where are we going to go
then? Torgo’s out, and we certainly can’t go to
Avernus. Somewhere small but busy would be best.”
“What do you know about the operations in the outer belt here?”
“I know a guy that we might be able to offload
this crate to. Otherwise we’ll have to try to
sneak over to the Seggalion or Loki jump points
and go from there. The minefields might be more
difficult than the Elohim jump point. I mean,
we’ve been through it a few times and left marker
beacons. We’ll be starting from scratch again.”
“Can’t be too hard…”
“We’ll try Davey Jones’ Lock-Up first. Go from there.”
“OK. Let’s get on with it then. Last one in the
airlock’s a Kilrathi’s litter tray!”
-
BWS Sicily Ready Room 0937
“You won’t believe what just happened,” announced
Dani to Rat as she entered the pilots’ ready
room. Her flight suit was soaked with sweat and
she still wore her g-suit as she came in and flung her helmet bag down.
“What happened?” Rat demanded, his tone pregnant with concern.
“That wanker Snakebite and his mates nearly got me killed this morning.”
“Snakebite?”
“Stuart,” she explained, spitting the name like
she had soap in her mouth. “He and his mates in
his escort flight ignored me when I asked for
help. They just fucking ignored me when I needed
someone to clear my six. I don’t believe it.”
“You’re joking!”
“I wish I was. Lucky for me somebody else was close enough to help.”
“You’re sure he ignored you? Maybe he simply didn’t hear you?”
“Well he told me to ‘fuck off’, so I think it’s fair to say he heard me fine.”
“He’s dead,” pronounced Rat, launching himself from his chair toward the door.
“Tony, wait-“ started Dani, but he had already stormed out of the ready-room.
-
“You have exactly ten fucking seconds,”
Carruthers announced coldly and clearly, “to give
me a good reason why I shouldn't kill you right
this minute,” as he strode across the bar toward Stuart.
“What are you on about?” Stuart regarded him with
a bored expression, “Piss off you Confed twat,
can’t you see I’m trying to have a quiet drink
with my mates? I just found out my father was one
of the first of the Nephilim plague victims.”
Rat felt a momentary pang of sympathy rising in
him but brutally suppressed it. “My heart fucking
bleeds. It doesn’t give you the right to ignore a
fellow pilot asking for help.”
“Why should I bail out your girlfriend? I don’t
like you, so why should I do either of you a favour?”
“A favour?” Rat snarled. “Jesus H. Fucking
Christ! She wasn’t asking to borrow a cup of sugar!”
“Don’t blaspheme,” Stuart admonished him and
reinforced it with a kick to the shin.
Rat’s left hand was a blur. It shot out with the
speed of a striking cobra to slam into Stuart’s
head, just above his right eye, instantly raising
a lump the size of a boiled egg on his scalp.
Stuart tried to stand up but Tony followed the
first punch up with a second. Whereas the first
had been a stiff but modest jab thrown without
setting himself, the right hook that followed
came all the way from his toes. It crashed into
Stuart with all of Rat’s 220lb bodyweight behind
it and Stuart crashed to the deck, knocked off his stool onto the floor.
“You fucker!” The shout from behind him gave Rat
a split second’s warning before the drop kick
landed in the small of his back. Rat rolled as he
fell and sprung instantly back to his feet.
Stuart’s friend, a tall, skinny, pale guy with
the callsign “Sparky” under his nametag, charged
at Carruthers trying to rugby tackle him to the
floor. Rat turned his body and braced his legs to
absorb the impact as the flying tackle took him
waist-high. Tony twisted and got his attacker in
a headlock in such a way that Sparky’s right arm
was pinned uselessly against Rat’s left leg and
his left arm flailed impotently out of range to
do any damage on the far side. Chin tucked hard
down, Sparky was fighting hard to stop Rat
sinking in the chokehold, working his jaw on
Rat’s forearm to try to find the nerve.
Rat grabbed his own left wrist with his right
hand and tried to apply blackout pressure to the
headlock. It wasn’t sunk in properly, so he
started to smash his right hand into his
opponents’ face to try to get an opening, but,
chin down as he was, Sparky was only presenting
the thickest part of his skull to Tony’s fist,
which was coming off second best. A hand feebly
tried to pull at his left elbow to loosen the
headlock so Rat leaned back and tugged harder,
trying to add gravity to the pressure applied by
hoisting Sparky off the floor, but Sparky was
taller than he was and he couldn’t get the
leverage. He tried pulling Sparky's head up to
sink the arm in under the chin better but he had
a brutal marine-style crew cut and there was
nothing but stubble to try to get a grip on,
apart from a sweaty, greasy forehead.
Justifying the move to himself because of the
cheap shot from behind the second in a matter
of days Rat jabbed a thumb into Sparky’s eye,
eliciting a squeal of pain, anguish and very real
fear. Pressing hard enough to cause sickening
discomfort, but hopefully not hard enough to do
permanent damage he could feel screwed up
eyelid under his thumb and not eyeball he asked
politely but firmly, “do you give up?”
“Yes! I fucking give up!” came the muffled
response. Rat took his thumb out of his eye and
shoved him away as he released the headlock.
Sparky took several paces back, rubbing his
stinging eye furiously. Blinking hard, it was
brimming with tears. “You’re a fucking dead man,”
he said as he turned his back and briskly walked out of the room.
“If I had a cred for every time I’ve heard that,”
Rat shouted after him, “I could retire!”
Carruthers stared in puzzlement at Stuart, now
lying prone on the floor with Dani on top of him,
her knee in his spine and his arm twisted so far
back up between his shoulder blades that there
must be ligament damage if not outright
dislocation. Stuart was unconscious, presumably
passed out in pain, though Rat didn’t recall
hearing any screams of agony, or the sounds of a
scuffle, for that matter, but he’d been absorbed
in his own fight. He raised his eyebrows quizzically.
“When I came in,” Dani told him, “you were busy
trying to break your knuckles on the forehead of
that other idiot’s skull and this bastard here,”
she gave his arm another wrench, producing a
faint groan of pain from her vanquished foe, “was
going to blindside you, so I grabbed him. He
pushed me, and I smacked him in the mouth.”
Rat noticed the fat lip Stuart was sporting and
nodded appreciatively as Dani continued, “he came
at me, so I used an Aikido throw to slam him to
the floor with his own momentum, and then I sat
on him when he tried to get up again,” she finished.
“So I see,” grinned Tony. “I think you can let
him go now, he appears to have passed out.”
“Probably when I smacked his head off the deck, “ said Dani.
“Glad to see our unarmed combat techniques
training wasn’t a waste of time,” Rat said dryly.
“You should see me with a knife,” Dani told him.
Rat took a second to look at the expression on
her face. “After that, I’d rather not.” Rat
looked around at Stuart’s remaining four mates,
who were all standing sheepishly, staring at the
ground or into their beers. “Anyone want to be a
witness that Stuart threw the first blow?” Rat asked.
“We never saw a thing,” said one. The others
stood silently. One, defiantly mute, the other
two with embarrassed expressions.
“Thought not,” Tony sneered. “Bear in mind he’ll
be facing charges of dereliction of duty and
conduct unbecoming, so adding an assault charge
isn’t going to make much difference.” Rat could
understand their position. They hadn’t waded in
to help Stuart, fair’s fair, but they weren’t
going to drop him in it, either. Rat grudgingly
admitted to himself that he’d do the same. “He
left this young lady to die earlier on today,
just because she was friends with me. Ask
yourselves if he’s the sort of bloke you want to
be associating yourselves with.” Rat nudged the
prostrate Stuart in the ribs with his boot. “He
can think himself lucky he got off so lightly.”
“Lightly?” The voice came from the doorway.
Sparky, or “Mr Dropkick”, had returned. His
uniform was soaked down the front where he had
presumably spilled water on himself while rinsing his eye out.
“Yes,” Rat repeated, “he got off lightly, under the circumstances.”
“I suppose Biggles got off lightly, too?” asked Sparky.
“He got what he deserved,” answered Rat, “but
I’ve a score to settle with the bastard that got
me from behind with a cheap-shot in revenge.”
“I did that, you dickhead,” admitted Mr Dropkick
proudly, or rather, Mr “Only when his back is turned”.
“Oh it was you, was it?” asked Rat as he advanced on him.
“Yeah, it was me,” Sparky grinned. “What are you going to do about it?”
Rat’s scissor kick took him under the chin,
picked him up off the ground and dumped him in a
heap. As he rose unsteadily to his knees, Rat
stepped back and took a penalty kick at his face.
It connected with spectacular force, sending
Sparky spinning across the floor to collide with
a table, sending glasses and bottles flying.
“That,” said Rat. Grabbing Dani’s hand they
walked from the bar as a stunned silence hung in the air behind them.
--
0948 CST
“As the list of Allied losses grows,” the female
newsreader tried to look grave, but the muscles
of her face, so used to a fixed, fake smile,
refused to mould themselves to her will, “we ask
if the Allied Coalition is indeed winning this
war? To date, the latest figures show that the
allied coalition has lost four fleet carriers,
including the TCS Saratoga, TCS Bunker Hill and
most recently, the TCS Valley Forge, as well as
the light carrier TCS Endeavour, along with
seventeen destroyers, six cruisers and several
other assorted vessels, in addition to the
roughly four hundred and fifty fighters lost so
far." The Confed pilots watching the vidcast
shifted their weight uneasily with embarrassment
and the Border Worlders glared with ill-disguised
contempt as the Confederation News Network neatly
airbrushed out and hint of the Border Worlds forces in the fighting.
"Those losses are staggering, aren't they,
Suzie?" the male newsreader flashed his dentally perfect smile at the camera.
"Yes Dave, they are. If we are winning this war,
as the politicians claim and the claimed kill
ratios would indicate, why are we constantly
falling back? Is this a retreat, or a rout?"
"In a press conference this morning, the decision
to retreat to Nifelheim was called a 'tactical
withdrawal', but just how long can this
withdrawal continue? If they continue 'falling
back', won't that leave the Sol system, and Earth itself, in jeopardy?"
"We're going to put these questions to our
military analyst, Andrew Irthing, in just a few
moments, right after these messages."
--
TCS Miles D'Arby CIC 1044 CST
“Are they aiming at us, or Avernus?” queried
Commodore Turnbull to the radar operator. The
twentyish brunette started to reply but the
D’Arby’s captain, Thomas Graham, cut in.
“It doesn’t really matter, does it? We can hardly
run for it and leave the station defenceless.”
“If it came to that, captain, I would. We’re more
valuable to this fight than she is right now.
There’s only a skeleton crew left on her. Even if
we couldn’t evacuate them, it’s less people than
we’d lose trying to fight them, even if we won.”
“How much do you think that station’s worth, Commodore?” Graham asked.
“Not enough to wipe this group out over.”
“It took seven years to build. Without it, any
supplies for Nifelheim II which is not
self-sufficient need to be shuttled down in
cargo-ship’s shuttles, not the bulk in-system
lifters. There'll be no base to run anti-pirate
operations from, so those merchantmen sitting in
orbit while those shuttles carry stuff down to
the surface of Nif Two are going to be sitting
ducks. Not only that, but they'll have nowhere to
refuel, and run back empty, because Avernus won't
be here for them to collect mineral ore and what
have you from. If we lose Avernus, we lose
Nifelheim for the foreseeable future.”
“Goddamnit, Tom,” Turnbull shook his head, “you
want to go toe-to-toe with that Bug battlegroup?”
“I don’t want to, no, but we’ve been picking them
off a few at a time for the last couple of days.
This was bound to come sooner or later. We’ve
danced around and used our jab so far, but you
know the fight isn’t going to go to the judges
scorecards at the end of the 12th. We’re going to need a knockout.”
“True enough,” Turnbull agreed, “a couple of body
blows will take the wind from their sails.”
“Mixing your metaphors as usual, sir.”
“Well, we probably backed ourselves into a corner
with that strike yesterday. They probably zeroed
in on us when we punched ‘em in the nose.”
“Maybe,” Graham acceded, “We’ve been using this
asteroid belt as cover for days and they’re bound
to zero in on us eventually. Or maybe they were
just aiming a strike at Avernus. Who knows?
Either way, we’re not going to get much better
opportunities. We can use Avernus’ own fighters
to augment our own, catch them from two directions and really land a
haymaker.”
“No messing about this time, just a straight stand-up fight?”
“Well sir, the best form of defence is attack.”
“I like it. Start getting things ready.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Graham saluted smartly and
turned to the comms officer, “Get me Wing
Commander Black. No belay that get me Captain
Bell, please, as quick as you like.”
--
1123 CST
“On the Confederation News Network today: Tolwyn
has his policy of ‘Eternal Vigilance’ been
vindicated? We talk to Geraint Llewelyn whose new
biography of the man argues that he was actually
a misunderstood genius. E-mail your questions and
comments for Llewelyn to us at the usual address
and we’ll put them to him later in the programme.
But first, let’s go to Muhammed on the news desk
with the latest news headlines, starting with the
latest update on the Alien Plague.”
“Thank you Susannah. Confederation medical
experts are hopeful a cure will be found soon…”
--
1130 CST
Deception. Subterfuge. Cunning. These were
essential in successfully defeating a larger
force with a smaller one. Surprise, of course,
could never be underestimated in its value as a
force multiplier. But in order to achieve the
element of surprise it was needed to employ
deception, subterfuge and low, animal cunning,
all of which Robber had in abundance.
Bell was a reiver name. Reiver meant "Robber",
and theft, pillage, plunder and blackmail had
been the living of his ancestors when two small
but warlike nations had shared a border that had
been a fortified frontier since Roman times. The
border reivers of the English and Scottish
marches during the 16th and 17th centuries were
the finest light horsemen in the whole of Europe
at the time, and a parcel of rogues, villains,
thieves and outlaws who made their living with
lance and pistol and who brought the term
blackmail into the English language. As far as
extortion and protection rackets went, the riding
names could have taught the Mafia something about
their own family business. So maybe some of that
dishonest and cunning nature had made its way to
captain Bell a thousand years later through his genetic heritage.
In truth, Robber's plan was one that had been
previously used, but it had a few twists thrown
in. During the Vietnam war, crippling
restrictions in the Rules Of Engagement had
hamstrung US fighter pilots. They could only
attack communist MiG fighters in the air, not on
the ground, and not attack those bases they flew
from. In order to get them to come up and "play",
Colonel Robin Olds and the "Wolfpack" devised a
plan. F-4 Phantom interceptors would pose as
vulnerable and bob-laden F-105 Thunderchiefs,
using their normal routes, altitudes, callsigns
and flying at their usual cruising speed to
maintain the masquerade, and entice the MiGs to
attack them. The MiGs would then get a nasty
surprise when the defenceless bombers they
thought they were attacking turned out to be something with a bit more bite.
On top of this, Olds had also arranged that there
would be no US aircraft north of them for the
mission, allowing a relaxation of the usual ROE
stating that 'bogey's had to be visually
identified as hostile 'bandits' with the Mk 1
eyeball before the American pilots were allowed
to shoot at them. Normally this meant that the
main weapon of the F-4, the radar guided sparrow
missile, which would be fired at bombers from 12
or more miles away, was often impossible to use,
as the minimum launch distance was passed before
proper ID could be made. With no guns and only a
primitive heat-seeking missile that could be
fired from directly astern of the smaller, more
agile MiGs, the US pilots were fighting with not
just one hand, but more like both hands tied
behind their backs. Because for these missions
they knew that any aircraft north of them were
hostile, the rules of engagement allowed them
full use of their AIM-7 Sparrow missiles and
shoot the enemy in the face from long range
rather than having to try to win a turning fight
where the large Phantom was at a severe
disadvantage to the obsolete - but far more agile - MiG-17s they often faced.
Olds had been pretty cheeky and even used his own
name as a callsign. True, the "Thuds" used
automobile manufacturers names as callsigns, such
as Ford, Buick and Cadillac, and "Olds" was short
for Oldsmobile, a popular make at the time, but
he was also a high ranking officer and a fairly
well known WWII pilot with over a dozen kills to
his name from mission in the skies above the
Third Reich. If the North Vietnamese intelligence
had been up to scratch the mission could have
been blown before it started. Instead, the tactic
was used more than once, and to great effect.
Robber planned his own twist to his Trojan Horse
mission. The Excaliburs posing as Jugs for this
mission would be escorted by Bearcats who would
be vectored away by the SWACS to a "contact",
leaving the "bombers" unprotected, to entice the
Bugs to attack this juicy, vulnerable target.
When the Nephilim took this tempting bait, the
Bearcats would turn back into the fight when they
heard the "spike" calls from the Excals
announcing that the Bugs were locking them up.
Hopefully they would catch them in a pincer move
and wipe out much of the outer CAP ring for the
real strike coming a few minutes later, including
the real T-Bolts that the Excaliburs were
pretending to be. Or at least - that was the plan.
--
FROM: Major J. Reid <sabretooth_lead@tcn.milesdarby.crew>
TO: Intelligence Officer <intel24@tcn.milesdarby.crew>
CC: WC<m_black@tcn.milesdarby.crew>; Robber<robertbell@tcn.milesdarby.crew>
SUBJECT: AFTER ACTION REPORT REF NAO1371A
Launched 1215 Recovered 1332.
PILOTS & A/C: 4 x BEARCAT. Mjr Reid SABRETOOTH
100, Cpt. Thomas SABRETOOTH 102 Cpt. Sanchez
SABRETOOTH 104 Lt. Cunliffe(trainee) SABRETOOTH 112
LOADOUT: 4 x ImRec, 4 x HS
Rendezvoused with JUGGERNAUGHT flight of 4 x
EXCALIBUR at navpoint 2 and proceeded toward
navpoint 3. Approx 3 minutes from navpoint 3 the
SWACS informed us of a contact bearing down on
us. We were vectored toward "BANDITS" informing
us that this contact was real, and not the
spurious contact we had been briefed to expect
(which would have been "bogeys" or "unknown
contact"). Calls from the SWACS informed us that
the bandits had turned away from us and we
entered a stern chase, directed by SWACS calls as
the bandits were beyond the range of our own
sensors. Approx 2 minutes after this, we heard
the SWACS tell Juggernaut flight that bogeys were
on an intercept course toward them. When we heard
the CONTACT calls of Juggernaught flight, we
turned back toward them, earlier than planned,
because of the distance we had travelled in
chasing the first group of bandits. We heard the
"SPIKE" warning from Juggernaught and knew they
were engaged. Our scanners picked up 8 enemy A/C
moments later and we engaged the enemy with a
volley of ImRec missiles, all of which were
observed to hit their targets. Immediately
thereafter, the SWACS warned us that the group of
bandits we had been chasing were heading toward
us at extreme velocity. We therefore broke away
from the developing dogfight between Juggernaught
and the 8 Nephilim fighters (which we identified
as 4 x Manta and 4 x Moray) leaving them
outnumbered 2 to 1, which was undesirable but
unavoidable. We were vectored toward the incoming
bandits which we identified as 6 x Squid. We
fired off a volley of ImRecs again, resulting in
2 confirmed kills, before the merge whereupon the
dogfight broke up into a series of smaller
engagements. Cpt Thomas managed to stay on my
wing during the turning fight but the trainee,
Lt. Cunliffe, lost sight of Cpt. Sanchez early in
the fight when Sanchez entered a rolling vertical
scissors with one of the remaining Squid.
Nevertheless, Lt. Cunliffe managed to claim 2
kills and rejoined our flight at Nav point 6
approx 25 minutes after the start of the
engagement. He had chased a pair of Squid quite
some distance toward the Nephilim battle group
before expending all his HS on them, destroying
both. The 4 remaining squid were destroyed, 2 by
myself, 1 each by Captains Sanchez and Thomas,
and we turned our attention back to Juggernaut,
who were still heavily engaged with several enemy
A/C. I observed a single Moray attempting to
egress and ordered Sanchez to attack it whilst
Captain Thomas and myself engaged a pair of Manta
that were attacking Juggernaut 4. I destroyed 1
Manta and Captain Thomas shared in the
destruction of the second. One enemy A/C was
observed running away at full AB trailing sparks
and debris but Juggernaut flight had 2 members of
their flight suffering heavy damage and we
decided not to pursue but to escort them (Juggernaut) out of the area.
VICTORY CLAIMS:
Mjr Reid 3 destroyed + 1 shared
Cpt Thomas 1 destroyed + 1 shared + 1 damaged
Cpt Sanchez 2 destroyed
Cpt Cunliffe 2 destroyed
DAMAGE/LOSSES:
My own A/C, 100, and Sanchez' A/C, 104, suffered
minor armour damage during the engagement, but no
system damage occurred to any A/C from the flight.
NOTES & ADDITIONAL REMARKS: N/A
--
FROM: Captain Bell<robertbell@tcn.milesdarby.crew
TO: TCS Miles D'Arby Intel<intel24@tcn.milesdarby.crew>
CC: WC<m_black@tcn.milesdarby.crew>;
SUBJECT: AFTER ACTION REPORT REF NAO1375C
Launched 1235 Recovered 1402.
PILOTS & A/C: 4 x Thunderbolt. Cpt Bell
STORMCLOUD 1 (AS01) Lt Stanley STORMCLOUD 2
(AS07) Lt O'Brien (trainee) STORMCLOUD 3 (AS02) Lt Lennox STORMCLOUD 4 (AS05)
LOADOUT: 6 x IFF 1 x Heavy Torp; Autoturret.
Mission went fairly smoothly until the IP. SWACS
vectored our escort flight (PUSSYCAT) onto
hostiles some 9 minutes away from the target, and
we were never in contact with them again after
this. Due to a slightly below optimum output on
the main reactor of the number 2 A/C in the
flight (AS07) we were approx 2 mins behind
schedule for our TOT. The TARCAP birds (ROUND
TABLE) were already engaged in heavy fighting and
our close escort had decided to RTB after
expending all their missiles in a short but
frantic engagement to let our attack mission have
a clear run-in to the target, slightly further
behind our Wild Weasel coverage than expected.
We were engaged by Squids and Skates as we ran in
but stayed on target, allowing our shields and
automated turrets to protect us while we
attempted to achieve a lock-on with the heavy
torpedoes. AAA fire was remarkably light - many
thanks to the Iron hand/Wild Weasel crews
(LIGHTNING)! As briefed, everyone called their
lock and we fired all 4 torpedoes in a single
volley, then broke sharply away to starboard.
Switching to IFF missiles we fired these at
targets of opportunity as we exited the target
area, resulting in several kills (see below). We
did not enter a turning fight and so let several
more enemy A/C go, even though these were damaged by our fire.
All four torpedoes were observed to strike the
primary target, the engineering section of the
Leviathan class carrier, though the engines were
still running as we egressed, despite sustaining heavy damage.
VICTORY CLAIMS:
Cpt Bell 1 x squid destroyed 1 x skate destroyed
1 x squid probably destroyed 2 x moray damaged
Lt 'Brien 1 x skate destroyed 2 x squid damaged
Lt Lennox 1 x moray destroyed, 1 x squid damaged
DAMAGE/LOSSES: light armour damage to STORMCLOUD 2 (AS07)
NOTES & ADDITIONAL REMARKS: Reactor output on
AS07 down to 88%. Crew chief aware of gripe
--
FROM: Major Svensson<viking@tcn.milesdarby.crew
TO: TCS Miles D'Arby Intel<intel24@tcn.milesdarby.crew>
CC: WC<m_black@tcn.milesdarby.crew>; Captain
Bell<robertbell@tcn.milesdarby.crew
SUBJECT: AFTER ACTION REPORT REF NAO1377B
Launched 1240 Recovered 1411.
PILOTS & A/C: 4 x Thunderbolt. Mjr Svensson
JUGGERNAUT 400 Cpt Woods JUGGERNAUT 404 Cpt
McKaig JUGGERNAUT 403 Cpt Wilson JUGGERNAUT 420
LOADOUT: 6 x IFF 1 x Heavy Torp; Autoturret.
As we ran into the target, our escort (FANG)
flight became embroiled in the general melee. A
few seconds from the target, we observed 3 or 4
torpedo strikes on the engineering section from
the preceding strike (STORMCLOUD), which was
obviously late as our TOT was arranged to be
deconflicted. These hits did not destroy the
engines, so we attacked the engineering section
instead of switching, as hoped, to the bridge.
No enemy fighters attempted to intercept us
during our run in, seemingly these were still
engaged with STORMCLOUD leaving us with a clear
shot. My own torpedo finished off the engineering
section and I ordered the rest of the flight to
switch to the secondary target of the Leviathan
bridge. However, the time taken to re-orient our
attack meant we came under prolonged AAA fire and
were engaged by several flights of interceptors.
Cpt McKaig (JUGGERNAUT 403) took command of the
rest of the flight as a 3-ship and I switched to
A2A to give them some sort of protection from
enemy fighters. Captain Woods (404) blew up
during his run in, suspected to have been
destroyed by a missile turret that caused damage
to Cpt McKaig as well. No eject call was heard
and no SARBE was seen on scanners. Captains
Wilson and McKaig had to break off their attack
early, and although Cpt McKaig fired his torpedo
it was not observed to strike the target. I was
engaged by several enemy A/C, Squids and Morays,
and sustained some system damage before these
enemy fighters were taken out by our escort
(FANG) and the TARCAP (ROUND TABLE) flights,
allowing us to egress without further harassment from enemy fighters.
VICTORY CLAIMS:
Mjr Svensson 2 x Moray destroyed 3 x squid damaged
DAMAGE/LOSSES: Captain Woods JUGGERNAUT 404 MIA,
heavy armour damage to all three remaining A/C,
light to moderate system damage to JUGGERNAUT 400.
NOTES & ADDITIONAL REMARKS: Gun camera HD was
wiped on JUGGERNAUT 400 due to system damage,
meaning Mjr Svensson's victories will need to be
officially confirmed by corroboration from other
members of JUGGERNAUT flight, or those pilots in FANG and ROUND TABLE flights.
--
TO BE CONTIINUED
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