Most of FOB Primeira Linha had fallen to the Euphemian advance in the previous day, giving significant leeway to the advance of Reunification Forces. The possibility of the facility delaying the advance, however, poses a strategic concern. With the Free State Army advancing from the south, the Alvimian military faces an increasingly dire situation.
Intending to prolong their defense and delay the Euphemian advance further, the Alvimian military desperately airlifts supplies to FOB Primeira Linha's airbase, with the clear intent to keep Euphemian forces at bay for as long as possible.
Midfort, Red Pine
27 December, A.C. 391
SPC Heley Davis You're-So-Vain Alks Roshing P. Conavard
Firebase Geta
Situated north of the border, near North Midfort in the Euphemian side of Red Pine, Firebase Geta is the home base of several un its subordinate to the 1st Armored Regiment. It was among the first bases to deploy forces when Neworder's inauguration initiated the Reunification War.
Click for Music
Heley Davis You're-So-Vain Alks Roshing P. Conavard had seen and felt the horrors of the Qarik War firsthand — well, it wasn't really horrible, but it was war nonetheless. Fighting in the 13th Airborne "Screaming Eagles" Division, she'd applied for a transfer the moment Neworder had finished his inauguration speech — and said transfer did come. The 904th Infantry Division, 1st Armored Regiment, and a few other units below that. Apparently she was to fill in a slot made recently available, meaning someone had gotten injured or killed.
The specifics didn't really matter. She'd been sent to some ass-end military base north of the border, Firebase Geta. She and a few of the other new arrivals, or as they were called around base, 'spare parts', quickly found their respective units.
Heley had been assigned to some squad that apparently carried some notoriety due to the apparent tendency for people to die. She'd figured it was a byproduct of incompetent leadership, or perhaps it was filled to the brim with grunt knucklehead types.
The room she'd found seemed to match the ones on her papers — numbered 441, and with some old graffiti marking the steel door. Knocking once, she opened the door before a response came.
"I'm assigned to this squad," She announced, setting down her rucksack by the bed number also labeled on her papers. It appeared not all of the squad was present — or maybe logistics were that incompetent. It didn't matter much, though.
"Yeah, y'reunder my k'mand." Mark was in his bunk, bong in one hand and picture of a woman in the other — presumably his girlfriend.
Jonathon, reading one of the manuals the higher-ups issued, wondering who this woman would be replacing. “You Harrison’s replacement? Wait, ‘course you are.” he asked.
"Don't think any'ne else in this squad died." Heley remarked.
Lawson was looking on the computer, and judging by his demeanor, someone had left it open earlier and he was snooping around. "Name's Lawson. You 'prolly won't survive long. Unless you were in Qarik."
"Yeah, I was, actually. 13th AB. You got that desert-head look 'bout you. Where'd you serve in?" Heley asked.
"Wow, you noticed." Lawson muttered some incoherencies under his breath. "Eleventh Infantry, 'Sunshine' Division." He answered. "I'm not in y'r fireteam, but there's 'nother Qarik vet who is. A.J., think his name is. The fact you're here probably means command is gonna send us off to fight Ricardo off at FOB Prima."
A.J. waved once his name was mentioned. “That’s me!”
Ricardo. She could deduce it was some kind of slang for Alvimians. "I take it FOB Prima's the one closest to the border?"
"Smarter than most noobs, I see." Lawson nodded.
“Yeah, we were at Prima yesterday. That’s why you’re replacing Harrison. He took a bullet to the leg, first person in our squad shot that hasn’t died. A good record,” Jonathon said.
"That raises my hopes 'bout this squad somewhat." A series of footsteps drew her attention to the door to the hallway, which had been left open. Jameson stood at the door, another new face beside him.
"I see the other new arrival's settled in." Jameson said. If 'settling in' meant standing in the barracks for a few minutes, then she'd certainly filled the criteria.
"I'm Sarah Tonights-the-Night Gonna-Be-Alright F. Wynn." The newcomer beside Jameson introduced herself, and Heley could almost immediately tell the girl was a noob. Turmenistan, Torch City — one of those more sheltered places in Euphemie for sure.
“Well, if we’re playing the introduction game I suppose we should all do it as well. I’m Jonathon Dark-Days-Come-for-You A. Brookes, from Alanoir, Turmenista. Served in Qarik, killed three self-propelled howitzers yesterday. I’m the fireteams AT trooper.” he stated.
“Alainor, Jon?” A.J. seemed surprised, genuinely. “Welluh, yuh’s a rEEEAL Alainor Military Brat
[1], dassforsure.” He chuckled heartily. “M’names A.J. Das short fur Avery-Jamieson Johnson Sabbath P. Floyd Nirvana, Jr.”
Heley realized she hadn't even told anyone her name yet. "Heley Davis You're-So-Vain Alks Roshing P. Conavard. Served in Qarik, killed nine Sanjis."
"Lawson Carry-On-Wayward-Son Oyster C. Merriweather." Lawson introduced himself. Heley could tell by the look of him that he was a little bit unstable. Maybe Qarik had fucked with his head.
"Ah, right." Jameson nodded, realizing it was his 'turn' to introduce himself. "Jameson Ice-Ice-Baby D. Hill. I'm the squad leader. I'm sure y'all two will become well-acquainted with the squad." Checking his watch, he raised his eyebrow, as if realizing something. "I'm headin' out. Y'all can do your usual."
"Well, whydn'twe celebrate the new 'rrivals by going looting?" Lawson suggested.
“I gave Harrison my pistol, and I’m guessing he went to the hospital with it, so sure.” Jonathon stated. “I also wasted my only frag.”
"Well, I figure it's best I get myself some better shit than standard issue." Heley nodded in agreement. The other newcomer seemed confused by what was going on, but didn't seem inclined to object. "Wha'bout you?" She looked to the Sarah girl.
"Uh, alright!" The girl nodded. Heley wondered how soon the noob would die.
The supply depot wasn't far from the barracks, a rusty old warehouse from which the sounds of ear-piercing welding emanated from. A M373A4 'Super Sparky' seemed to have some activity around it, aside from the mechanic standing atop the vehicle and welding something on. Upon closer inspection, the mechanic was working on tread armor up-front on the armored personnel carrier.
"Oh, these the newcomers?" Claytrail sat atop an ammo crate, watching the vehicle upgrade. "Which one's under my command?" He purred.
"Take it easy, Floyd." Jameson had apparently returned from whatever he'd been doing, standing near the corporal.
"I believe I've been assigned to your fireteam, sir. I, uh—" Sarah looked through her papers, as if trying to confirm it. "Yes. It'll be an honor to work under your command, sir."
Overly-disciplined. Heley didn't really like those urban military academy types, as they'd always act like this. She was pretty young too — she figured seventeen or eighteen. At least it wasn't as young as some other militaries' soldiers could get — in her younger days, she'd put a bullet through two Aenaran mil-academy trainee aspiring-ranger types that'd crossed onto her farm on the Euphemian-Aenaran border. Aenarans were the scum of this world, and rumors that Aenaran soldiers would occasionally take shots at Euphemian farmers were more likely than not true.
"That all the newcomers?" Heley asked.
"Nah," Claytrail pointed to the M373. Someone was helping the mechanic, carrying a toolbox about him. As the person in question left the vehicle, as if for a break, he sat atop the ammo crate, oblivious to the other new arrivals. Turning his head, he seemed to take notice, walking over.
"These two the n—" He looked at the two, noting one of them sure as hell didn't look like a noob. "new folk?"
"You'd be correct." Heley nodded. "Name's Heley Davis You're-So-Vain Alks Roshing P. Conavard."
"Sarah Tonights-the-Night Gonna-Be-Alright F. Wynn." The other newcomer nodded.
"Ah, well, uhh... pleasure to meet you. I'm Nick. Nick Killing-Me-Softly-With-His-Song Darrell Jr. Different fireteam, right?" He asked.
"I'm in the first fireteam. You must be in the second." Heley nodded. "You the squad repairman or somethin' now?"
"I'm just helpin' with upgradin' the Sparky. Used to do mechanic work on the side before I joined, just like Scrapmonkey over there."
"Scrapmonkey?" Heley raised an eyebrow. The mechanic, as if overhearing the conversation, lowered her welder, approaching the scene of the chat.
"Who called?" She asked, removing her welder's mask.
"I was just askin' who the Scrapmonkey is." Heley replied.
"That'd be me. Name's Claire. Claire Bleed-It "Scrapmonkey" D. Hughes. I 'ssume you the one that's replacin' Harrison? You certainly look the type."
"Yeah. You handle the Sparky, I assume." She looked to the vehicle. It was unmistakeably modified to some extent, a recoilless rifle and two machineguns atop the vehicle — not to mention the obvious welding work being done at the front of the Sparky.
"That'd be right. Mechanic." The girl answered.
"Is it functional right now?" Jameson questioned, looking to the vehicle.
"Should be. We're headin' out today?" Claire asked.
"We've got our 'spare parts'. 'course we're headin' out. We were just waitin' for 'em to show up." Jameson nodded.
FOB Primeira Linha
FOB Primeira Linha, literally "FOB First Line", is the northernmost Alvimian military facility in the occupied territories. As the name implies, it is the intended 'first line of defense' against a hypothetical Euphemian invasion — well, it's not really hypothetical anymore.
They were on approach to FOB Primeira Linha, the sounds of gunshots and explosions audible even over the vehicle's engines. The treads were noticeably quieter than most Sparkies she'd had the misfortune of being inside before — Heley could assume the tracks had been swapped out for quieter rubber variants. Judging from the visible discomfort among some of the squad members, it was obvious that the fighting was a bit more intense than the previous day's.
"Louder this time, ain't it?" Heley questioned.
"Not seizin' Prima 'prolly pissed off General Johnson a helluva lot. He's throwin' all he's got at this place." Claytrail announced from his position in the central machinegun. "Throwing a few cruise missiles at the place, too."
“I heard a battalion of Alvimian paratroopers jumped in last night.” Jonathon said, having heard this rumor - maybe false, maybe true, from a member of another squad.
"They elite types or somethin'?" Lawson questioned. "We muss' be the deadliest grunts on the field!"
"Don't go jinxin' it, syko. You might be dyin' next for all we know!" Mark joked.
“Paratroopers tend to be elite. I wonder who the Alvimians are being commanded by.” Jonathon said.
"Didn't y'all shoot up their HQ yest'day?" Heley questioned.
“Yeah, like Jay Naylor Uni got shot up.” he said. He hoped the squad wouldn’t find his rather edgy joke to be too offensive. There were chuckles from a few in the group, particularly from those who weren't from Turmenista.
Unfortunately, A.J. didn’t seem to happy about that joke. “TELLYUHWHAT, fuck you. Sunbitch.”
"Bigger question is — when's those Alvimian reinforcements crossin' over into Red Pine?" Lawson asked. "S'we can have us more Rikkie to shoot."
“Never if we keep them on the backfoot.” Jonathon commented.
"Jonathon's right," Mark agreed. "Do your jobs right and we ain't gonna need to worry about Alvimian reinforcements — we'll have taken the state before they even cross in."
Euphemian forces had taken much of the FOB in the previous day, but the airbase had not yet been seized. Anti-runway bombs had made Alvimian reinforcements difficult to come by, but they were now conducting low-altitude drops of supplies, equipment and troops.
The unmistakeable sound of an A-13 Lucifer letting loose on an Alvimian position could be heard outside, which culminated in a few cheers among the group.
"Ricardo's gettin' it!" Jameson chuckled. Through some means of NCO magic, he'd gotten his hands on a few cigars — a notch above the cigarettes most others were using.
"I heard some crazy-ass governor sent NG over to Red Pine." Lawson said.
“That crazy ass governor was Strickland, he’s trying to make up for losing to Neworder!” Jonathon said. His political tendencies may have been shown to his squadmates.
"Well, if Neworder's reunifying us with our brothers down south, I ain't got a problem with it. Least Strickland sees eye-to-eye with the Pres'dent on this holy war." Charls said.
"We've got somethin' up ahead. Ricardo has some IFVs up ahead!" Claytrail announced, instinctively ducking back into the passenger compartment. Sarah, who manned the left-side machinegun, was still unaware of what was ahead of them.
Heley, out of instinct moreso than sympathy, dragged her squadmate out and away from the hatch — seconds before the unmistakeable sound of 20mm hitting the vehicle echoed through the compartment.
"You— you really saved my ass." Sarah got up, seating herself beneath the machinegun hatch she'd been manning. Had Heley not come in, she'd have been torn to bits by 20mm fire.
///
[EUPHFOR] -
[23rd Infantry Brigade] -
[Engadine National Guard] -
[Sgt. J. Carmichael] /// - “IFV up ahead, three of them!”
///
[EUPHFOR] -
[23rd Infantry Brigade] -
[Engadine National Guard] -
[Sgt. W. Hardwick] /// - “Hold on, lemme get a shot!”
The sound of a BGM-97 missile whizzing through the air could be heard thanks to the open hatches of the Super Sparky, and so could the sound of an Alvimian IFV exploding.
///
[EUPHFOR] -
[23rd Infantry Brigade] -
[Engadine National Guard] -
[Sgt. W. Hardwick] /// - “Got ‘em!”
///
[EUPHFOR] -
[23rd Infantry Brigade] -
[Engadine National Guard] -
[Sgt. J. Carmichael] /// - “First vehicle kill in the Engadine National Guard’s history! Good job, Bravo-2.”
"Enemy IFV down." Jameson announced, lowering his radio. "Court-sy of the Engadine National Guard."
"I'm not manning the MG again." Sarah shook her head. Heley noticed the girl was also a coward, aside from being overly-disciplined.
"Well, I guess we c'n rest easy know'n we've got the craziest mo'fuckers supportin' our advance..." Lawson grinned.
"We just go in, take the airstrip?" Heley questioned, glancing down to the AR-M64A6 assault rifle in her hands.
"There's a bit more shootin' to it, of course," Jameson chuckled, checking his radio again as the Sparky came to a halt. "Alright, y'know the drill!"
The doors swung open, the squad filing out and finding themselves amongst the same rather unruly bunch of Augustans from before. It was Heley's first experience seeing a bunch of soldiers of such unparalleled lack in discipline, which took her a bit off-guard at the sight of the grunts hollering and carrying their flag with them.
"That normal?" Heley had taken cover behind the some rocks on the uphill ascent along with the rest of the squad, but was still visibly confused by the Augustans on the other side of the dirt road leading uphill into the airstrip.
“For them, yeah! Only one of them’s died so far though, maybe we should take a note from them..” Jonathon observed.
"Don't chart up to bad luck what can be blamed on incomp'tence." Heley quietly muttered, looking to Jameson. Bullets soared over the rocks, the origin obviously being the small fortified line of tents uphill. Taking a few careful peeks at the enemy uphill, Heley popped out from behind the rocks, taking two burst shots. The result came soon enough, as a single Alvimian tumbled downhill, hitting the rocks with a gruesome
CRACK. Heley knelt back down, knowing her kill had been confirmed.
The near-deafening sound of an Oesterran OF/A-17E
[2] filled the air as it flew above the squad, a single Mark 93 bomb
[3] parting with the aircraft, gliding towards the hospital that some Alvimians had holed up in. All that followed was a fireball and a cloud of dust, rising from over the hill. The gunfire died down in the immediate aftermath of the blast, as if it had caught the Alvimians off-guard.
"Who's the guy on the recoilless rifle?" Heley asked Jonathon, pointing to the man operating their Sparky's RR-M340.
“That’s Tyson, he don’t talk much but he’s our unofficial gunner! Harrison loaded shells for Tyson before he got hit,” Jonathon explained. He turned towards Tyson, who was now manning the recoilless rifle. “Hey, put some shots into those tents! They’re taking cover there!” Turning back to Heley, he asked “Tyson needs a loader, can you do it? You’re just a rifleman, I might need to be dismounted with the AT if any tanks come up!”
Before she could respond, however, an A-13 Lucifer soared past, strafing the Alvimian position and ripping several of the tents to shreds. The Sparky began its advance up the hill, to which the squad followed in suit, advancing uphill amid the bullets whistling overhead. Heley followed with caution, keeping to the rocks along the ascent. Word was, the squad wasn't the luckiest around — and had a big tendency for losing its own.
"Keep y'fuckin' head down!" Mark exclaimed, holding onto his helmet as he sought cover with Heley. "Qarik, you said y'was from?"
"Yeah. You?" She asked.
"Nah. This my first war." Mark shook his head. "Just tryin' not to get myself 'r y'all killed."
FHHHWWOOOOOOSSSHHA rocket soared past them, striking the Augustan Sparky and causing it to go up in a spectacular explosion, flames shooting upward from the wrecked husk of the vehicle.
“Hotdamn!” A.J. shouted. “Thatones toast!”
"Least it wasn't ours." Heley peeked from cover, taking a few shots at the Alvimians up the hill. Another one came tumbling down the hill, striking the rocks at the base of the slope like the one that'd come before her. The squad opened fire on the position where the Alvimians were holed up, killing about a squad’s worth of them. By the time they squad had regrouped atop the smoldering ruins of the tents along the hill, much had been destroyed — and the Alvimians had surrendered by the time the squad's M373 Sparky had arrived. It seemed most of those in the tents weren't even armed, as a few of the tents were assigned to intelligence officials.
"What're we gon'do now?" Lawson looked around at the empty tents, the Alvimian prisoners — the footsteps of the Augustan squad turned a few heads, and the Augustan squad leader immediately beat down one of the prisoners, yelling incoherently about how he'd 'killed their driver'.
"We're attackin' a mixed command n' control fas-lity up 'head." Mark was in one of the tents, kneeling down as he analyzed a map that'd fallen to the floor. "Dunno if you paid any attention."
"Wuh? We?" Lawson was almost comedically confused.
"Least, my fireteam is." Mark said, picking up the map and tucking it into his vest pocket. "We're a'movin', ladies'n'gents."
“Fuckyeah.” A.J., even though he hadn’t fired his weapon, still flaunted himself around as if he were hot shit. “Let’s get, uh, movin’. Fuggingon killmesumRicktuhnite. Damfugginpiecesuh..” His voice trailed off into incoherent mumbling.
Mark wandered off and led the fireteam forth, seemingly without the squad leader's permission. "Did we ev'n get an Alvimian translator after the other one died?"
"Think the other fireteam got the translator." Heley replied. "I sure's hell cain't speak Ricardo."
“Sheit, uhh.. It ain’t hard tuh read Taco ‘N Tapico, rie?” A.J. shrugged his shoulders. “I mean, cummand cent’r doesnt sound that different from uhhh... whats this word.” He squinted his eyes. “Centra? Yeahuh thassounds lie cummand cent’r.”
The squad took position on a slope overlooking the command facility. It gave a fairly good view of the Alvimians below, not to mention the apparent epicenter of the command facilities — a wooden structure connected to a rather tall communications tower. Jeeps, trucks and other vehicles waited, and the Alvimians seemed to be loading crates in a hurry.
Mark lowered his binoculars, looking on with fascination. "They's evacuatin'."
“Let’s stop ‘em!” Jonathon stated, raising his rifle. He took aim at two Alvimian’s loading a truck, shooting one and sending him to the ground, and then the other.
"Why don't you use that rocket-launcher o'yours?" Heley proposed, laying prone as she watched her squadmate take fire at the Alvimians below.
“There were tanks here yesterday, and I’m assuming there’s going to be tanks here today. I’m betting they’re gonna want to protect their command center.” he explained.
"Well, if they're here, we oughta be able to hear 'em by now." Heley curiously replied, looking back to the scene below. She took another shot at the Alvimians, dropping one of them. Seven of them remained, who were mostly dispersing to take cover in the various command buildings and tents in the area.
In quite ironic fashion, almost right after Heley said that, Jonathon noticed a vehicle moving in the distance out from the airstrip.
“Ah shiet, is that a plane?” Squinting, A.J. thought that he knew what that was. Boy, was he wrong...
“Tank, coming off the airstrip!” Jonathon shouted, removing his AT-M88 from his back and inserting a High Penetration rocket in, to ensure penetration of the front armor. Its engines roared as it approached, though it obviously hadn't sighted them yet. A few bullets whizzed by, bringing Heley's attention back to the Alvimians below.
"Keep your aim steady, I'm fixin' to lend cover." Heley said, taking aim at the Alvimians below. The rest of the squad opened up on the Alvimian soldiers below, with three more of them dropping immediately.
Jonathon flicked the front and rear sights of the AT-M88, and took a crouching position as the tank approached. “Comeon, bastard!” he shouted. He fired his first of three rockets low, to try and penetrate the underarmor. However, the shot barely missed and hit the dirt instead.
“Fuck fuck fuck!” he shouted, loading another HP rocket in. Taking aim again, he prayed this one would hit it’s mark. Aiming a bit higher, he fired and hit the tank. The turret moved, originally pointing to the squad’s left, towards them, clearly it wasn’t out.
He loaded his last rocket in, hoping for a vehicle kill. If not, someone else would need to take it out. “Here goes nothing!” he said. Firing, the rocket seemed to hit the left side of the tank’s armor… until he realized the shot had deflected. The tank's immediate response was to open up in a volley of machine-gun fire, immediately knocking Tyson off his feet in the process.
Heley's immediate response was to get downhill, taking cover from any further tank fire. Moments later, an HE round struck where she'd been laying prone, kicking up dust and dirt in the process.
"MEDIC!" Mike called out, presumably calling to the rest of the squad. Perhaps it'd been his error to move ahead without communicating with the other fireteam. The tank continued laying down fire on the hill, only barely giving the other squad members time to get off the overlook.
The tank’s priorities soon changed, however, as to the right of the squad, two friendly IFV-M7s of the Engadine National Guard rolled downhill along a road. Focused on Jonathon and his squadmates, the tank had too little time to react.
Music
The leading IFV-M7 fired a TORAW
[4] missile at the tank, achieving penetration, and causing an explosion which visibly ruptured the turret. One tank down.
“Hol-ey shit!” Jonathon yelled. “Our asses just got saved,”
"Placin' my bets it was one'nem Engadine folks." Heley reloaded her AR, climbing back up the slope to resume firing at the Alvimians. "Cover fire 'till the others arrive. If they ain't show up, I'll find 'em myself."
One of the Alvimians decided to poke his head and gun out from behind a tent. This didn’t end well for him though, as two bullets put an end to him. Heley could count three Alvimian soldiers among the crates in the command area, and took brief burst shots at them as they peeked, managing to drop all three. It seemed the IFV-M7s and their Engadine NG passengers would deal with the stragglers.
The sound of footsteps approaching drew Heley's attention behind them — the rest of the squad had shown up, and there was clearly some irritation on Jameson's face as he approached the disgraced fireteam.
"Now, why the
HELL did y'all just run off?"
"Says on this here fuckin' map that this is their com-nikation n' c'mand center." Mark angrily replied, taking out his map.
“Yeup. Ah transliturated that.” A.J. nodded.
"Now, why didn't y'all fuckin' advise us—" Jameson stopped, squinting at the map. "Wynn, translate that."
"Yes, sir." Sarah approached the map in Mark's hands, taking it and carefully reading it. "Armored command and control center."
Mark swore under his breath, throwing the map beneath his feet. The injury of a squadmate, or rather the responsibility thereof, rested on Mark's rather abrupt decision to wander off and attack a command facility. They had, however, succeeded in attacking the command facility: certainly disrupting whatever remained of Alvimian combined arms units.
"Darrell," Jameson gestured to Nick, then pointed to Tyson. "Get that one patched up until we can get a medevac."
"Understood, sir." He nodded, tending to the wounded, near-unconscious Euphemian soldier. The most he'd be able to do would be stop the bleeding until actual medical professionals arrived. A heavy silence hung over the group, as the weight of the corporal's responsibilities hung over him.
"Whatever. We were headin' there after we checked thru the tents." Jameson shook his head, but was interrupted by his radio.
///
[EUPHFOR] -
[65th Infantry Regiment] -
[Engadine National Guard] -
[Cpl. L. Stosenburg] /// - “Be advised, radar has just reported a cargo plane in the vicinity! They’re gonna drop supplies, someone stop them!”
“Man, lemmetellyuhwhat, I was fuggin’
RIGHT when I told y’all I saw uh plane!” A.J. shouted, squinting over in the direction of the incoming black blip in the background. Sure enough, it was an Alvimian EMA 310 Sagui
[5] that was approaching the base, preparing to drop in supplies, most likely by parachute. Now seeing the plane in all of its glory, A.J. was just about to shout his callout out, already pointing his finger out towards the plane, when their radios began to screech.
"Somethin' tells me this one's goin' down.
///
[FSAFOR] -
[1st Attack Regiment] -
[White Sun PMC] -
[Horus Mera-hba-sahu-pteh of Luxor] /// - “Commandant, that plane is ours.”
///
[FSAFOR] -
[1st Attack Regiment] -
[Battalion 18 “Bad Bunch”] -
[Cdt. Carter Lee Stonewall I-Give-Bad-People-Good-Ideas Engadine] /// - “Send it, mummy
[6] boys!”
BFFFFFFFFFFRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTwo streams of tracers came out of the jungle, swinging towards the plane as if it were a whip for a moment, before finally landing on their target. The tracer rounds tore into the underside and right of the plane, striking one of the right engines of the plane and sending it into a tilt. The strucken engine blew out in a fireball of smoke, as the plane approached the airstrip, though it was clear it wasn’t going to land there. It drifted towards the right of the airfield, and touched down near the now bombed-out hospital, blocking a road and erupting in flame as the plane’s gasoline began to cook and sizzle. It was unfortunate then that this plane was carrying a shipment of ammunition for the FOB’s defenders, as that slowly began to pop off due to the searing heat. Explosions filled the air as the EMA 310's fuselage came apart, tearing like wet paper and spiralling towards the battered runway of FOB Primeira Linha. As the aircraft struck the runway, its fuel ignited with volatile potency, turning the metal casket into a fireball that descended the extent of the runway with a thunderous
BOOM.
///
[FSAFOR] -
[1st Attack Regiment] -
[White Sun PMC] -
[Chathsthis-hetet of Sebek] /// - “Good hit on that bogey, Horus.”
“Wait uhhh sec’nd. Guys, did’jall just hear the word mummy on the radio? And who tha hell is thate?”
///
[FSAFOR] -
[1st Attack Regiment] -
[Battalion 18 “Bad Bunch”] -
[LT Billy-Bob Lee Curtis Chester Lamar Free-Bird, Jr.] /// - “Attention all Euphemian and friendly forces: this is Billy-Bob Lee Curtis Chester Lamar Free-Bird, Jr., second in command of Battalion 18. The Bad Bunch, the baddest mother fuckers in the Free State Army, have arrived! We are
elated to know that our brothers and sisters have come to join in the fight to utterly destroy the Alvie menace in Red Pine and liberate this great state! To all friendly forces in the area, we’re attackin’ from the Southeast! Don’t shoot the mummies—they’re on our side, too! As for the Euphies..”
A strange tone came on their radio as Alvimian shouting and barking of orders was briefly heard... before being droned out completely by
some very loud music. What the hell was the FSA doing? PSYOPS, perhaps? Then, Billy-Bob’s voice came back over the radio as the music became louder..in person. It seemed they weren’t playing it over the radio at all, but, rather, at deafening volumes from speakers mounted on helicopters.
///
[FSAFOR] -
[1st Attack Regiment] -
[Battalion 18 “Bad Bunch”] -
[LT Billy-Bob Lee Curtis Chester Lamar Free-Bird, Jr.] /// - “Attention all you dirty Alvie mother fuckers out there.. This is Billy-Bob Chester speakin’. To any of you that want to see the Free States Army and the Federal States Army joining together up close, this is your lucky day. In sixty seconds, the entire aerial might of the Free States Army is going to reduce your command center to flaming rubble. To any of y’uh that’re religious: Pray.”
The formation of UH-36 Reeds that were responsible for blasting the deafening music became visible, as well as their armament: rocket pods, machine guns, and miniguns. Some circled the area, cutting down Ricardos that moved, while those well-disciplined few who fought back were culled with extreme prejudice. Rocket pods from the Reeds slammed into supply depots, barracks, and other buildings around the command center, causing massive explosions to flower out from these buildings. Others simply came in towards the edge of the command center’s complex—one of them not too far from their fireteam—dropping off FSA troops before dusting off.
A.J. nearly fired his weapon at the sight of troops down there that obviously
weren’t Euphemian. Some of them approached the group, and it quickly became evident from the way they moved, talked, and dressed, that they were Akhmanari.
“Since when did we get mummies helpin’ us?” Lawson asked.
“Since now.” Their commander, lowering his KT-91
[7], replied in remarkably fluent Euphemian—probably one of them more “educated” ones from cities like Yevosh. “I’m Khebbenit Mur-kau of Djarzurma. This man with me is known as Eric. He... has some language problems, but he knows what to do. The FSA is taking this base.”
The squad had mostly recollected themselves, Nick having returned after treating their injured man and leaving the rest to the medical teams.
"These helicopters, Free State Army?" Heley looked up. Khebbenit nodded.
"State your loyalty," Jameson raised his rifle a few inches, suspicious of the new arrivals. By now, other Euphemian units were overtaking FOB Primeira Linha's airstrip, stopping as if on radio order as more soldiers emerged from the treeline south of the runway. Listening to his radio, he lowered his rifle, not needing a response. "Mercs, huh?"
Khebbenit nodded once again. “Don’t be so alarmed. After all, I heard you westerners sent some to Qarik and Sanjar.” He turned to his squad-mates, one of whom
wasn’t an Akhmanari, muttered something in his native language, then turned then back to Jameson. “Sergeant, we have orders to join with your squad and assist you in attacking the Alvimian forces in the south. From there, we shall force their mongrel hides into a surrender, or kill them all if they do not.”
"That so?" Jameson reached for his radio, confused. Some chatter later, and he'd lowered his radio. "With a few grunts like us?"
“Precisely.” Khebbenit said. “I’ve learned that defying odds like this is what you Euphemians do best.”
Eric, meanwhile, was eyeing up the surroundings. You certainly didn’t see this in Mbanza, or Vajraya for that matter. He wanted to figure out who the commanding officer of these men were, and was distracted away from Khebbenit’s conversation with Jameson.
“Il a l’air important…” he muttered, looking towards Floyd. “Est-il le commandant?” he wondered, deciding to switch to Euphemian.
“Guys, he’s speakin’ cursive...” Lawson noted, whispering. Obviously, it was loud enough for the others to hear.
He approached Floyd, and attempted to speak his best Euphemian, though he wasn’t entirely confident in his ability to do so. “Are you the commandant of these people?” he asked.
"Do I look like one, honey?" Claytrail replied. "Our commanding officer is the sergeant," He pointed to Jameson. "Our 'commandant'? In some base north of the border."
“I’ll… take that for an answer. Pleased to meet all of you, especially…” Eric paused to read Jameson’s tag. “Jameson.”
"It would appear we've got'rselves orders to attack Fort Esperança, down to the south-west." Jameson announced, setting his radio back onto his vest. "No stops, no returns back to base. Everyone who c'n walk is headin' with. Wounded will be left for the occupation forces. As of right now, we're the spearhead."
Khebbenit turned to his men, repeating the same in his language. Their M373 approached, coming to a halt at the runway's edge. It seemed their drivers had received the same orders. By now, a good amount of the FSA helicopters were touching down, offloading more troops — who were quite well-armed and well-equipped, even in comparison to the standard Euphemian military.
“Never seen one of these in person before,” Eric commented.
"That one there's th'Scrapmonkey. She keeps the ride runnin' n' mans the guns." Jameson pointed to the Sparky's machinegunner, who was idly manning the gun, as if bored by the lack of action she'd faced.
"There's ten of us now widdout the inj'rd man." Heley noted. "We oughta ask them how many of 'em are comin' with.
Eric decided to speak for his Akhmanari friends on this matter. “All of us,”
“We may need a bigger transport.” Chathsthis-hetet of Sebek, the presumed second in command to Eric and Khebbenit, and the Akhmanari’s designated RG-89
[8] gunner, voiced her concerns.
"Some's y'all goin' 'ta take rooftop point." Jameson said. In the background, it seemed the Augustans had managed to take a M57 Mercúrio truck from one of the depots, bringing it out — the Augustan flag up top would help prevent being misidentified as enemy.
Chatshthis’s right eye twitched. “Sir, are.. are we seriously-”
“No. We are taking the APC.” Khebbenit inspected the vehicle in question, slinging his rifle to his side. “This is a very interesting.. set up.. of weapons, Sergeant.”
"Thank Scrapmonkey. She's turned this veh'cle into a formidable fightin' machine." Jameson gestured most of the squad inside.
"Looks like we're in this one for the long haul, huh, sarge?" The mechanic left her post as gunner as soon as the squad boarded, presumably to allow the typically-assigned squad members to man the guns.
"Indeed. We're makin'a-move on the Fort down southwest, with some air support and cover from other Reunification Forces." Jameson seated himself, discarding a spent cigar to the floor of the passenger compartment.
“Reunification forces, eh?” Khebbenit chuckled. “Funny you say that. Our media likes to call you guys ‘rebels,’ fighting against the mongrel Alvimians. Apparently, this area we are fighting in was once your land, if I am correct. Things have really gone to shit here, it seems.”
"Well, if it ain't our fuckin' home they're occupyin', I ain't know whose it be." Lawson responded, a slight hint of aggression in his voice.
Khebbenit took note of this in a different way. “
Nationalities aside, I am glad to be working alongside you guys on a noble mission. Our skills will be of great use to you, Euphemians.”
"Right. Who's mannin' the recoilless rifle?" Mark looked to those huddled inside. He glanced around, then pointed to Heley. "You are."
He still seemed pissed off earlier from his scolding at the hands of the squad leader. That didn't bother Heley, though — it was an opportunity to man a weapon that had more power than the average rifle. She stood at the hatch, assuming control of the weapon. There were a few of the foreign soldiers who'd taken point atop the M373. Maybe she could strike up conversation with them, but she doubted they could speak Euphemian conversationally. The most recent upgrade had relocated the rather modest pile of 105mm shells sitting in a small box that'd been propped up onto a welded stand.
"I saywhat, new girl, whas'y'r name 'gain?" Lawson asked.
"Heley Conavard." She replied flatly, still focused on their surroundings as the vehicle continued moving, engines beginning their usual hum.
"Hee—ley. Heley. You might'a want to, ah, be careful with A.J. over there, keepin' your body out unda'the hatch like that." Lawson cackled immaturely, nudging A.J.
“Man, lemmetellyuhhwat, Lawsun, I seen WS’s,
[9] and I’s seen lady cops. I ain’t never seen uh lady mummy in muh life. Let alone uh lady mummy sold’r.” This registered a glare from Khebbenit, who looked at him oddly. “You aren’t wrong, Euphemian. It is a complicated cultural explanation.”
A.J. nodded as if he were paying attention—obviously, he wasn’t. “Yuh, but, Heley, yuh gotta watch out furme.”
"Screw around n' I'll kick your ass." Heley replied to A.J. as she maintained her focus on the situation outside.
“Screw around, eh?” Lawson chuckled. “Well, why don’t we do that right here, Heley?”
Taking one of the 105mm rounds from the rack that'd been installed by the RR, Heley climbed down. "Why don't I shove this up your ass, Lawson?" This elicited a few chuckles from the passengers, namely Khebbenit. “Euphemian humor. I love it.”
Heley climbed back up the hatch, returning her attention to the outside situation after returning the shell to its place.The bright orange-yellow lines of missile trails filled the sky, bound to the south. There was something about the sheer scale of the war being waged upon Alvimia that made it an almost awe-inspiring sight. By now, any semblance of Alvimian air superiority had crumbled, and Euphemian aircraft now freely patrolled the skies of Red Pine — rightful Euphemian territory, as it'd always been. Downtown Midfort glimmered in the late morning sun, a massive Euphemian flag hoisted atop the LaCroix Tower,
[10] visible even miles away.
"What's, uh, goin' on out there?" Nick asked.
"Clear skies — few bombers headin' south, 'prolly B-64s. God, those're some old-ass, big ugly fuckers." Heley replied.
"They say a group of 'em killed twenny-thousan' Sanjis over in Qarik." Claytrail said, watching the scene from the central machinegun.
"Ricardo probably ain't gon' fare any better!" Mark exclaimed, chuckling. The words almost sent a chill up Heley's spine. They sure was hell weren't in Qarik — rather, things were about to get a helluva lot worse than Qarik.
CONTEXT NOTES
1 - Alainor Military Brat - Alainor, a city in the Euphemian state of Turmenista, is known for its large military facilities and factories, and prestigious military academies. Thus, many Euphemian military brats are from Alainor, inadvertently creating the term.
2 - OF/A-17E - The OF/A-17E, designated Strike Witch, is an Oesterran twin-engine, all-weather tactical fighter aircraft. It’s known for its delta wings and high maneuverability, making it a staple in Oesterran aerial tactics.
3 - Mark 93 bomb - The Mark 93 bomb is an Oesterran general-purpose bomb. Although it is unguided by default, the vast majority of Mark 93s have been retrofitted with stabilizers to provide precise guidance.
4 - TORAW - The
Tube-
Operated
RAnged-
Weapon, or TORAW, is a wire-guided anti-tank weapon. Equipped with infrared cameras, TORAWs are armed with powerful warheads, making them dangerous stationary defensive emplacements to any tank that dares to approach. Most TORAWs are used as ground-based emplacements or atop IFVs or helicopters.
5 - EMA 310 Sagui - The EMA 310 Sagui is a military transport aircraft built by Emalvaer S.A in 355 A.C. Despite being domestically-produced in Alvimia, many have accused it to be a copy of its Euphemian equivalent, the C-120 Pegasus, due to the design similarities it possesses with the Pegasus.
6 - mummy - Mummy is a derogative term used to describe Akhmanaris or people of Akhmanari descent, primarily by the west, because of the mummification techniques used to preserve ancient Akhmanari pharaohs.
7 - KT-91 - The KT-91 is a bullpup 5.56mm assault rifle designed by the MANTICORE Arms Company, an Akhmanari Arms conglomerate, in 380 A.C. It quickly made its way into the Akhmanar Armed Forces as its primary assault rifle, where Akhmanari troops are thoroughly taught the inner workings of the rifle and how to use until it becomes second nature to them. It is known for its low recoil, high accuracy, and low weight, and modular capabilities. It also supports ambidextrous firing, and can mount optical or night sights on the carrying handle, as well as a bipod or grenade launcher. It comes in Carbine (C), LMG (S), and marksman (M) variants, each with different barrel lengths and features.
8 - RG-89 - The RG-89 Anubis is an Akhmanari-made reusable rocket-propelled grenade launcher adopted by the AAF in A.C. 389. It's popular in the military due to its portability, penetrative capabilities, and overall power. The El-Hadhai, who have also taken up using the launcher, have even used the primary GP-89V AT warhead to disable or destroy severall Aenaran Ma'mat tanks.
9 - WS’s - WS is an abbreviation for “Woman Soldier,” a slang term used to describe female soldiers in the Euphemian military.
10 - LaCroix Tower - Located in Downtown Midfort, LaCroix tower is a large tower located in the eponymous complex, with 19 other buildings also in the area. LaCroix Tower is the tallest of the 19, commissioned by J.T. LaCroix himself. Due to the Alvimian occupation, it saw a decadent decline in quality, but this may not last for long...