Operation Southern Cross (Excalibur IC)

[The Two Jerseys]

Alix jumped, startled, at Talbot's shouted demand.
"Erm...if that's you Geoff, there aren't any Nazis in here. But if you want to help us load some of this stuff out, seeing as how you're already over here, it'd be appreciated."

"Oh, good, you're alive," Talbot replied, lowering his shotgun and unfixing the bayonet. "I heard a shot and thought that you and Varsity had gotten it in the back."

Looking up, he spotted the eight Marmon-Herrington armored cars sitting in a row; he broke into a grin as he walked up to the nearest one and ran his hand along the armor plate, unleashing another Cagney impression in the process: "Hello, honnnn-ey!"

Turning back to Noble, he motioned at the truck with his thumb. "Just say the word, ma'am."

[The Tiger Kingdom]

As he entered the tower again, Page was still scrambling to think up a way to break the South African sniper that they had in their custody as quickly as possible. It had been hard to get a read on the bastard - he was evidently cold-blooded enough to be a sharpshooter of genuine skill, and on top of that, was hard enough to kill one of his own people - but yet he fell apart like a house of cards in a windstorm as soon as Excalibur and that Soweto street gang had their hands on him. Perhaps he was simply a coward? Maybe so, but Page felt like that was only part of the picture.

Regardless, he had to crack this little code - and fast, too. How best to do it?

Dark memories floated up in his mind, relevant to the subject of how to get information out of an unwilling captive. One method in particular stood out - it was easy, simple, dramatic, and didn't require any elaborate equipment.

Although, maybe...

Stopping before the door, Page unholstered his Webley and snapped the cylinder open. Working on impulse, he removed all the bullets from the chamber and pocketed them - all save for one. Carefully, he unscrewed the rim of the bullet and upended it, letting a little stream of primer fall to the ground. Scraping the rim of the primer cup with his little finger to make sure all the explosive was gone, he quickly re-screwed the rim back on, and placed the round aside in the pocket of his combat vest.

He took a deep breath. His heart was pounding like a war drum, but his head was calm and clear. Inside, he could feel the shame and rage that the memories of his own captivity always brought up in him, and the roiling tidal wave of visceral hate for the Nazis and their local lapdogs that always went hand in hand with those memories as well - but they were...contained within him, subdivided and secured. He could draw strength from them - strength he would need - but he was the master of those emotions, not their servant.
No longer would he be a whimpering weakling, too mired in self-doubt and self-loathing to do what was necessary.

Maybe one day long ago, he'd have felt bad about doing this to someone - even someone as sickening as this Boer terrorist. He knew the pain that this would inflict.

But that day was not today.
And today, for all their success, for all their advantages, and for all the surprise that their lies, duplicity, and cowardice had gained them, unendurable agony was all the OB and their members - every single last one - would get for their trouble.

---

Alix jumped, startled, at Talbot's shouted demand.
"Erm...if that's you Geoff, there aren't any Nazis in here. But if you want to help us load some of this stuff out, seeing as how you're already over here, it'd be appreciated."

"Oh, good, you're alive," Talbot replied, lowering his shotgun and unfixing the bayonet. "I heard a shot and thought that you and Varsity had gotten it in the back."

Alix jerked a thumb at Fries, who was silently an unsuccessfully attempting to conceal how badly he'd been shocked by Talbot's sudden appearance.
"No - our officer here just had an interesting idea as to how to get this door unlocked. No crisis."

Looking up, he spotted the eight Marmon-Herrington armored cars sitting in a row; he broke into a grin as he walked up to the nearest one and ran his hand along the armor plate, unleashing another Cagney impression in the process: "Hello, honnnn-ey!"

Turning back to Noble, he motioned at the truck with his thumb. "Just say the word, ma'am."

"The word. Pitch in how you can."

[Len Hyet]

Charlie followed along with the others after Silva, Sten gun clutched tightly to his chest as if it was the most precious thing in the world to him at that very moment. He also kept low, trying to present a small target as possible to any would be OB sharpshooter sweeping their sights over the painfully exposed expanse of the airfield. But no shot ran out as they hastily crossed the open area between the airfield's cluster of buildings and the perimeter fence, following the detachment under Silva to make it to the relative safety of the improvised fox holes made by the earlier mortar barrage.

Hunkering down in one of the craters-cum-fox holes, Charlie peered over the edge of the hole and glanced at the scene beyond what was left of the airfield's perimeter fence. The OB had finished regrouping and were now moving up to begin a second attack, he also spotted the dud grenade he'd thrown earlier and made a mental note of its position. Though he was starting to wish that he had something much bigger than the Sten gun right about now.

"Right boys." Silva said quietly.

"I need two volunteers to run over to the supply depot or whatever passes for one on this godforsaken airstrip and find every single piece of wiring, sheet of metal, plank wood, sandbag, or anything that looks even remotely useful in fortifying a position, and start preparing to link the main buildings together. I just don't think its worth it to try and hold the fence, its got too many holes in it, its too big for us to hold, and it doesn't provide shit for cover. Press gang some of the locals into helping get it all around the buildings. We're gonna link up the armory to all the main buildings, and get entrenched."

[Goram]

OOC: this one will be short and a bit shit (or shittier than usual). I'm on break at work and posting from my phone.

Stanford clambered up over the armour car's steel plating, intent on getting inside. The thing was armed with a myriad of weapons; a Boys rifle and vickers gun in the turret, along with a lintel mounted bren atop the machine. With that level of firepower, and the other seven vehicles, Excalibur stood a chance of repelling the OB - at least long enough for a proper plan to be thrashed out.

Stanford tested the main hatch, fully expecting it to be locked. To his immense surprise, it swung open.

"Mr Talbot, Ms Noble"

He said

"Shall we?"

[The Two Jerseys]

OOC: this one will be short and a bit shit (or shittier than usual). I'm on break at work and posting from my phone.

Stanford clambered up over the armour car's steel plating, intent on getting inside. The thing was armed with a myriad of weapons; a Boys rifle and vickers gun in the turret, along with a lintel mounted bren atop the machine. With that level of firepower, and the other seven vehicles, Excalibur stood a chance of repelling the OB - at least long enough for a proper plan to be thrashed out.

Stanford tested the main hatch, fully expecting it to be locked. To his immense surprise, it swung open.

"Mr Talbot, Ms Noble"

He said

"Shall we?"

"See if you can find the keys in there," Talbot replied as he raised the bonnet and reached into the engine compartment. "The fluids should still be good," he said, checking the oil level with the dipstick, "but we need to find out if the accumulator still has a charge."

[Kouralia]

"Right boys." Silva said quietly.

"I need two volunteers to run over to the supply depot or whatever passes for one on this godforsaken airstrip and find every single piece of wiring, sheet of metal, plank wood, sandbag, or anything that looks even remotely useful in fortifying a position, and start preparing to link the main buildings together. I just don't think its worth it to try and hold the fence, its got too many holes in it, its too big for us to hold, and it doesn't provide shit for cover. Press gang some of the locals into helping get it all around the buildings. We're gonna link up the armory to all the main buildings, and get entrenched."

"Mr..." A posh, slightly nasal voice called out behind the American as . "Silver, is it?" Scrambling low toward the Excalibur members by the perimeter, Rupert the fully-attired aide dropped to a knee by Benjamin, grasping the blood-soaked manual in one hand. "Excuse the interruption, but I think there needs to be a conversation held about who is going around murdering these colonial chaps with a knife in their barracks." He waved the manual. "A Private..." he looked at it and shrugged, "Well, whoever he was, someone nearly took his head off with a massive knife as he was getting dressed for the fighting. On the inside of the fence. In the camp."

Just in case the American hadn't gotten it, Tennesley continued. "As in, there's someone inside the camp who really likes killing UDF soldiers with it."

"Well, not necessarily the U-"

"Quiet there, Sergeant." Tennesley said before turning back to Silva. "Where are the rest of the squadron's Officers, and where's Mr Fries?"

[Morrdh]

Charlie was about to acknowledge Silva's orders, they seemed good with the general lack of any other option, when the rather obnoxious aide joined them in the mortar craters. He was already taking a dim view of the man before he'd even opened his mouth, something that wasn't improved when the clot spilled the beans. When the other man asked where all the officers were, Charlie sharply replied. "Sorry, forgot to don me scrambled eggs."

[Len Hyet]

"Right boys." Silva said quietly.

"I need two volunteers to run over to the supply depot or whatever passes for one on this godforsaken airstrip and find every single piece of wiring, sheet of metal, plank wood, sandbag, or anything that looks even remotely useful in fortifying a position, and start preparing to link the main buildings together. I just don't think its worth it to try and hold the fence, its got too many holes in it, its too big for us to hold, and it doesn't provide shit for cover. Press gang some of the locals into helping get it all around the buildings. We're gonna link up the armory to all the main buildings, and get entrenched."

"Mr..." A posh, slightly nasal voice called out behind the American as . "Silver, is it?" Scrambling low toward the Excalibur members by the perimeter, Rupert the fully-attired aide dropped to a knee by Benjamin, grasping the blood-soaked manual in one hand. "Excuse the interruption, but I think there needs to be a conversation held about who is going around murdering these colonial chaps with a knife in their barracks." He waved the manual. "A Private..." he looked at it and shrugged, "Well, whoever he was, someone nearly took his head off with a massive knife as he was getting dressed for the fighting. On the inside of the fence. In the camp."

Just in case the American hadn't gotten it, Tennesley continued. "As in, there's someone inside the camp who really likes killing UDF soldiers with it."

"Well, not necessarily the U-"

"Quiet there, Sergeant." Tennesley said before turning back to Silva. "Where are the rest of the squadron's Officers, and where's Mr Fries?"

"One, Silva. Sil-va. With an -a, not an -er, an -a. Command last I saw was heading to the armory. Maybe head over that way. Tell the CO about the murder, he can deal with it. I'll go with you, to make sure you don't get murdered."

Silva turned back to the rest of the squad. "Alright, the rest of you gather all the barricading supplies you can find. Try and shanghai a few of the UDF into it with you, but none of you. None. Of. You. None. Nobody goes anywhere alone, alright. And UDF doesn't count as a buddy. You and a member of the Squadron at all times until Page, Noble or I says otherwise. Good? Good, alright Tinsletown, lets go." Silva said, looking at Tennesley.

[Gibberan]

*First part set before Len's Post

"Quiet there, Sergeant." Tennesley said before turning back to Silva. "Where are the rest of the squadron's Officers, and where's Mr Fries?"

Carter tried (somewhat unsuccessfully) to hold in a smirk at Fodder's curt reply and accent. In a strange way, due to the fact that he had until now lived a relatively isolated life, to him every accent was something new, and by extension, like something out of a comedy show, and this one particularly so. After his mind was able to focus itself on the seriousness of the situation, he stepped slightly forward towards Tennesley.

"F/O Andrew Carter, here." he replied, not sure in his mind if he was replying to Tennesley or volunteering for Silva.

"One, Silva. Sil-va. With an -a, not an -er, an -a. Command last I saw was heading to the armory. Maybe head over that way. Tell the CO about the murder, he can deal with it. I'll go with you, to make sure you don't get murdered."

Silva turned back to the rest of the squad. "Alright, the rest of you gather all the barricading supplies you can find. Try and shanghai a few of the UDF into it with you, but none of you. None. Of. You. None. Nobody goes anywhere alone, alright. And UDF doesn't count as a buddy. You and a member of the Squadron at all times until Page, Noble or I says otherwise. Good?"

"Right, sir." Carter nodded and surveyed the area. "I'll stay here then; looks like it needs some freshening up." he said to himself. He'd tell if he saw the captain about whatever it was Tennesley was going on about a murderer, He waved to a group of five UDF soldiers standing in a group seemingly doing nothing. "Hey, you! Over here, gimme a hand with this!" Getting their attention he relayed the order briefly. "You four men, get to the supply depot and try and get whatever sort of equipment can be used for a defense and set it up around the main buildings." Remembering Silva's warning, he said to the last remaining one, "You...try and find some small equipment laying around the compound and do the same thing, if you find anybody not doing anything tell them to pitch in."

He looked around. Wood and wire was all good, but they needed something stronger. Sandbags, perhaps? There was a whole pile of them with a discarded Lewis Gun, apparently unused during the fighting. He picked up the Lewis gun and put a sandbag over his shoulder. He could see the UDF massing in the distance, however. He looked back towards the rest of the remaining squadron. "Can I have some help here?"

[Goram]

Stanford clambered down from the car and propped his rifle against armour plate. He unclipped his webbing and kit, laying it next to the weapon. The car was bound to be cramped on the inside, the Stanford thought, no point in taking up space with things he wouldn't need just now. He swung the armoured car's heavy door open and peered inside. To his immense surprise, the keys were in the ignition. He clambered into the machine, worming his way up into the turret. Again, the vehicle was in an unusual condition. The turret's Vickers gun had a long belt of ammunition fed into the breech and if Stanford was to look in the fuel tank, he imagined it would probably be topped up.

By the look of it, the armoured car (and probably the other seven) had been made entirely ready for combat - presumably to be delivered into the hands of the OB when they took over. Somewhat ironically, however, the hard work of the (presumably) defector or defectors had served no other purpose than to give Excalibur Squadron a ready made weapon that would almost certainly turn the OB back from the airbase. What's more, the Pro-Nazi rebels would be deprived of their makeshift armoured brigade.

Stanford poked his head back of the vehicle

"Mr. Talbot, Ms. Noble? The keys are in the ignition and the weapons are loaded. Looks as though a less than savoury chap planned to hand these vehicles over to the OB. Either way, we're in business."

[Kouralia]

Charlie was about to acknowledge Silva's orders, they seemed good with the general lack of any other option, when the rather obnoxious aide joined them in the mortar craters. He was already taking a dim view of the man before he'd even opened his mouth, something that wasn't improved when the clot spilled the beans. When the other man asked where all the officers were, Charlie sharply replied. "Sorry, forgot to don me scrambled eggs."

Tennesley just stopped short and stared at Fodder for a good few seconds before responding. "I think, Flying Officer, you forgot to don some sense as well." About to turn again to Silva, he was interrupted by another of those clot-headed pilots.

"F/O Andrew Carter, here." he replied, not sure in his mind if he was replying to Tennesley or volunteering for Silva.

"Thank you very much, Mr Carter." The Acting-Captain said in a voice only just on the polite side of the sarcasm line. "However, as it could be inferred, I am actually looking for those who are... as might be said... in charge."

"One, Silva. Sil-va. With an -a, not an -er, an -a. Command last I saw was heading to the armory. Maybe head over that way. Tell the CO about the murder, he can deal with it. I'll go with you, to make sure you don't get murdered."

Silva turned back to the rest of the squad. "Alright, the rest of you gather all the barricading supplies you can find. Try and shanghai a few of the UDF into it with you, but none of you. None. Of. You. None. Nobody goes anywhere alone, alright. And UDF doesn't count as a buddy. You and a member of the Squadron at all times until Page, Noble or I says otherwise. Good? Good, alright Tinsletown, lets go." Silva said, looking at Tennesley.

"Thank you, Mr Silva." Tennesley said, waiting for him to finish his orders to the rest of the squadron before continuing. "Well, let's go then." He added, keeping low in a crouching run and heading back toward the central buildings, weapon and book clutched in-hand.

[Morrdh]

Tennesley just stopped short and stared at Fodder for a good few seconds before responding. "I think, Flying Officer, you forgot to don some sense as well."

Charlie just shrugged and said. "Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer."

He lit himself another cigarette before checking the magazine of his Sten gun, making sure that it wasn't going to run out on him any time soon. Tennesley was going on some murderer at large in the airfield. Oh, that doesn't sound good. Carter called for help and Charlie struck upon an idea, turning to the American he said. "Bring that tube with ya and we'll see wots gotten Rupert here in a flap."

[The Two Jerseys]

Stanford clambered down from the car and propped his rifle against armour plate. He unclipped his webbing and kit, laying it next to the weapon. The car was bound to be cramped on the inside, the Stanford thought, no point in taking up space with things he wouldn't need just now. He swung the armoured car's heavy door open and peered inside. To his immense surprise, the keys were in the ignition. He clambered into the machine, worming his way up into the turret. Again, the vehicle was in an unusual condition. The turret's Vickers gun had a long belt of ammunition fed into the breech and if Stanford was to look in the fuel tank, he imagined it would probably be topped up.

By the look of it, the armoured car (and probably the other seven) had been made entirely ready for combat - presumably to be delivered into the hands of the OB when they took over. Somewhat ironically, however, the hard work of the (presumably) defector or defectors had served no other purpose than to give Excalibur Squadron a ready made weapon that would almost certainly turn the OB back from the airbase. What's more, the Pro-Nazi rebels would be deprived of their makeshift armoured brigade.

Stanford poked his head back of the vehicle

"Mr. Talbot, Ms. Noble? The keys are in the ignition and the weapons are loaded. Looks as though a less than savoury chap planned to hand these vehicles over to the OB. Either way, we're in business."

"Well go on then, try firing her up," replied Talbot, staring at the engine as he waited for it to turn over.

[Goram]

The Flying Officer ducked back inside the car, fumbling for the ignition.

"Clear prop!"

He called out, almost without realising it, as he turned the key. Immediately the garage was filled with a deafening roar, as the vehicles V8 engine burst into life.

[The Two Jerseys]

The Flying Officer ducked back inside the car, fumbling for the ignition.

"Clear prop!"

He called out, almost without realising it, as he turned the key. Immediately the garage was filled with a deafening roar, as the vehicles V8 engine burst into life.

"Give it some throttle!" Talbot called out over the roar of the engine, his gaze still fixed on the motor as he looked for any mechanical problems.

[Gibberan]

OOC: I hope this isn't considered gravedigging, merely trying to revive the thread

Tennesley just stopped short and stared at Fodder for a good few seconds before responding. "I think, Flying Officer, you forgot to don some sense as well."

Charlie just shrugged and said. "Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer."

He lit himself another cigarette before checking the magazine of his Sten gun, making sure that it wasn't going to run out on him any time soon. Tennesley was going on some murderer at large in the airfield. Oh, that doesn't sound good. Carter called for help and Charlie struck upon an idea, turning to the American he said. "Bring that tube with ya and we'll see wots gotten Rupert here in a flap."

Carter looked at Charlie with a strange look, attempting to discern what the British officer was actually trying to say. After a moment, he figured it out, and picked up the tube Charlie had been gesturing to, swinging it over his shoulder and following him.

There was a muffled but loud roar from one of the other buildings. What the hell is that?

[Morrdh]

"I meant the Lewis Gun..." Charlie replied as he gave Carter a funny look. "Want to put the wind up wotever bastard this here Rupert is on 'bouts."

"Right then ye," Muttered Charlie as he turned to speak to Tennesley. "Be a darling and lead on, we ain't got time to play silly buggers."

"Ye start also start with giving us the gen, where did ye find the poor bugger? Was he strangled? Stabbed? Shot? Any other buggers round to witness it?" Charlie asked as they hurried along with the officer. "We're all royally screwed if the OB has blokes inside the airfield, so gonna we slot the bastard the better really."