Topic: Scarred: Taking of the Spaceport

LordTravanix

Date: 2010-10-27 02:45 EST
Black troopers with red highlights were filling the spaceport and its surrounding area as quickly as the transports could bring them down. At least 200 troops were on the ground now, fifty of those units were establishing heavy weapon mounts to contend with anyone flying a personal vehicle in the area. Travanix, however, was resting atop a building that was on the dark side of the area with a very high vantige point. The blaster rifle felt cool in his hand, the gravel from the roof eating into his uniform. His breathing was slow and level as he looked through the sighted scope. A small group had begun to fight back against his forces.

That simply would not due. He leveled the rifle carefully, flipping the flash muzzle on. He could have made the shot without looking through the scope, but there wouldn't be as much enjoyment as there was seeing the faces of his enemies. The cross hairs were lined up and he gently squeezed the trigger. The rifle groaned for half a second as the muzzle contained the combine system, but still the deadly bolt of red energy was released and traveled true. The look of surprise and horror on the partner of the victim was so delicious.

He looked in the right direction of the blast, only to see a red bolt headed towards him...

Bryan Myers

Date: 2010-10-27 13:40 EST
Not far from the spaceport...

He knows the signs of impending invasion well enough.

He had elected to stay with the Marine detachment when Cori went back up to the Perses the previous night. The good thing about having a girlfriend with the same dedication you possess is there's not going to be an argument over fulfilling your duty, or the time apart.

Especially when you know there's going to be time later.

But now that time is in question. It had started with the orbital bombardment, followed by the transports coming down to the surface.

The bombardment he can't do anything about, except be thankful that none had come near the two Argo transports that were serving as the Marine detachment's temporary base of operations.

But the troops coming down...that's different.

This...he knows.

And the two battalions he has on the surface with him are the best. As is evidenced by their gathering back at baseops in record time. In fact, they had all arrived before him.

The two Argo transports had been settled away from the spaceport by a distance of two miles, in a clearing of the surrounding wood, and as he sets foot in the area, he is pleased to see that no one has wasted any time in getting ready. As the detachment commander - a major - notices him, he snaps to attention and salutes, though doesn't sound the customary call at the approach of their commanding officer

He returns the salute. "As you were, Major. Sitrep."

The major relaxes. "Sir, the sensor feed from the Perses is still coming in. It shows 30 ships in orbit in 3 elements, each led by super-heavies..."

He waves the major to silence. "Let the fleet worry about space-side opposition. I'm concerned with ground operations."

The major nods, moving on. "With the number of transports coming down and based off calculating their size, I'm guessing they have two, maybe three hundred troops on the ground at the space port, with more being deployed in other parts of the city and still more on the way. Based off the size of their ships, they probably have at least ten times what we have here on the ground."

The whistle from the Colonel is low, soft and long. "At least twenty thousand troops..."

The major nods. "But from what I've been seeing, their transports aren't nearly the size of ours. It'll take them a while to build up strength at any one location."

Bryan nods thoughtfully. "I see what you mean. What do we have for armament?"

The major grins. "After the initial deployment, the Admiral was kind enough to send us down enough of the armory to take over a mid-sized country."

The colonel nods, the corner of his mouth twitching up. "Any armor?"

"We have ten Armadillo armed LRVs, six Dragon MBTs, two Spartan aromored command vehicles and four Osprey close air support VTOLs."

The Colonel's expression goes back to serious again. "Major, you have ten minutes. I want six LRVs, two MBTs and two VTOLs, and a Spartan ready to go in that time. Get everyone armed and ready to go. Third battalion will be the frontline, Fifth will be our reserve. We're going for the spaceport."

LordTravanix

Date: 2010-10-27 22:24 EST
Pot shots. Head shots. Belly wounds.

They all were so easy targets. A part of him missed this kind of action. But now, here he was on his belly, scouting targetsand relaying orders quietly. More troops were being deployed, some transports were staying in the docks, no longer returning. He was whispering quietly into his comm when he saw two large transports land. Nothing came out once they were settled.

There was activity around them however. Reports filtered to him, his troops were filling the streets around his position and eliminating small pockets of resistance. He stood up just as a building be hind home was consumed in an explosion. The black form imposed, casting a shadow down. He reached down to take the rifle and shouldered it, then kept down the length of the building to the streets below. The pockets of resistance did not concern him any longer. Soon, an organized fight would be marching on his position.

Well, some of them would be, some won't make it past the first line of defense.

LordTravanix

Date: 2010-11-02 11:39 EST
He continued to order troops into their positions. The military commanders echoing his commands to their troops. The artiliery placements no longer worried about the few ships making it off planet: They would have other concerns once they saw thier last sight of the stars.

He moved to a higher position with a single trooper. They blended against the night sky and watched quietly the distance horizon. Transports began to land from the stars. Their huge bulks causing the ground to disturb its peace. There were now 6 large transports down, but not deplying. What was he waiting for? And what were the transports waiting for.

Bryan Myers

Date: 2010-11-02 17:16 EST
It takes just under nine minutes from the time he gave the order to the time it took to get all eleven vehicles ready to go and to get two battalions of Marines armed, armored and ready to go.

For the first time in a while, the Colonel has to admit he's impressed.

"Colonel Myers?"

He turns as a corporal comes up at a dead run, coming to a sudden stop a few feet away and snapping off a salute. "The Spartan is ready, sir. The major says some more transports have come down to the spaceport."

His eyes tighten just marginally as he thinks. Probably planned to land there already. Or they might have been detected somehow.

No time to consider that now, though.

He's climbing into the command vehicle moments later, settling into a seat. "What've we got, Major?"

"Colonel, I show several transports have descended into the spaceport in the past eight minutes, exact number unknown, based on heat trails. At least four, as many as seven." The sergeant next to him tweaks a setting on his console and shakes his head marginally. "No significant communication made since they touched down. Seems to indicate they haven't deployed yet."

Or they're planning an ambush, if they were detected. A look to the major confirms that he's thought of this possibility as well.

His face hardens slightly. It's a look any battlefield commander would recognize - the look of a man that knows he's sending soldiers to their deaths.

"Major, I want two fireteams from each company and two LRVs. Have them spread out, converging on where those transports are parked. Give them a seven minute start, then get half of the main battalion and the MBTs moving in after them, with the remaining LRVs and us behind...another three minutes after that the rest of the Third. We'll get the VTOLs in the air in eight minutes, but have them stick to a hover here. When they get called in, it'll be NOE flying, make sure they know that."

Looking over the reports at the Major's console, he thinks for a moment.

"Major, I want the reserve battalion split up between the Argos. Have them get the remaining armor ready for air drops and keep themselves in deployment readiness. Who's flying the transports?"

The major chuckles, turning to let the colonel see his grin. "The twins."

The Colonel returns the grin, nodding. "Good. They already know the procedure."

He gets out of his seat and heads for the front of the vehicle.

As he does so, the first troops begin to move, one hundred sixty heavily armed men moving towards the spaceport in black, sleek armor, fanning out wide before vanishing into the gloom like ghosts. Following them go two six-wheeled light reconnaissance vehicles, their electronic engines pushing them along in silence but for the sound of the ground under their tires.

LordTravanix

Date: 2010-11-12 00:37 EST
It was still in the night. The space port, the Stars End - they were HIS now. He smirked in that comforting thought. Such a delicious irony there. Rhydin was falling, the city itself was a wash in flames and terror. He needed to hold the starport for a time. Only a few hours, that is all he would need to keep this place locked down. He pulled the sniper rifle close to his eye, adjusting the zoom.

Still, it was too quiet. He sensed agitation, hesitation, agrivation - all coming from just outside the starport. He couldn't place his finger on it, but he knew that it was going to come, and come soon.

Quietly, "Captain, order the first units to deploy." He did not need to hear or see the soldier to his right to know that his orders were being carried out. These were all loyal men, without questions, without regard for anything else.

"My Lord, they are requesting marching orders," the captain repeated quietly.

Travanix pushed the rifle away slightly as he looked towards the areas that he controled, where the transports had landed - soldiers and otherwise. "He nodded." Send a commando unit out, Vile squad, make sure they report every 8 minutes. Plant charges where they feel they can get the best impact incase we have guests."

The captain nodded just as there were several large hissing transports. They were opening up, releasing their cargo of war machines. The loud hum starts up, just before a loud thud shakes the ground.

The first walker took its step on Rhydin soil, and marked it well.

LordTravanix

Date: 2010-11-17 01:23 EST
The walker, in all its glory, took several steps away from the transport. The first one whined and groaned under the power of gravity. The weapon generators began powering up, the hum was without a question something he enjoyed, and had always enjoyed.

"Units, prepare for an incoming assault. They are going to come from any direction." Travanix spoke quietly. The first walker, Alpha as he called it. It was a beautiful piece of technology. But these were not the walkers of the early days of the Imperial age. No. They were special.

They were better. Enhanced. Mark II.

And there were other surprises in wait.

Bryan Myers

Date: 2010-11-17 09:20 EST
~Fireteam Delta, front line~

The lieutenant sees them first, a small unit of troops heading out along the perimeter. He's almost impressed with their deployment, suggestive of Terran Marines. Probably their elite.

Hand signals are all that are used as the marines in their dark, antireflective armor close in around the enemy, nearly overtaking them in complete silence but for two enemy soldiers that get shots off.

A quick search of their gear reveals the explosives, and with a soft curse he gets on the radio, relaying a soft, tight-beam warning about the existence of mines in their path...

...and from somewhere close by, a heavy, earth-shaking thud, as though a giant had set foot down on the earth, announces the arrival of the first big problem.

The Spartan command vehicle~

One of the comms specialists calls out. "Receiving reports from the advance teams. Indications are of armor movement and antipersonnel mines."

Another soldier at the sensor station speaks out next. "Concur. Seismic indicates large vehicles at the spaceport." There's a pause, then...."Pattern seems to indicate walker-type vehicles."

The colonel nods to both reports, thinking fast. "All right. Move the MBTs up and get the VTOLS in the air, tell them to stick close to the deck. Tell the twins to hold their usual position, alert status."

Stepping in behind the sensor station, the colonel looks over the tactical display for a long moment before speaking again. "Major, did any of our advance teams go loaded for bear?"

The major doesn't even hesitate in his response. "Yessir. Seven strategic assault teams, all carrying three-quarter-kilo warheads."

"Good. Move us up with the second line rather than behind them. Advise the advance teams to set up the snipers as close to out of sight as they can manage, and tell the heavies they are weapons free. Let's see what it takes to take down their armor."

~Fireteam Omicron, front line~

"Snipers, take your positions. Artillery, weapons free, concentrate on armor first. Once artillery takes their first shots, all advance units are weapons free, engage at will."

The corporal is already almost in his position in a tree when the call comes over the radio, nearly at the border of the spaceport. It takes him another few seconds to find his perch and secure himself, get the sniper rifle ready, and start looking for targets. Spread out around him, he can sense rather than hear or see the other three of his team doing the same.

The viewpoint he has shows him the spaceport, a large number of unfamiliar ship designs and what look to be large, heavy anthroform walkers of some kind.

Not his concern - the remaining members of his fireteam are working that angle. Switching the scope over to light amplification, he looks through and starts scanning for targets.

It doesn't take him long. A single figure, with a long carbine much like his own sniper rifle. Crosshairs focus, and he waits...waits...for just the right moment...

There is from below and several meters away from him the whooshing sound of a rocket igniting, and in the same moment he pulls the trigger.

The sound of the rifle is, interestingly, nearly silent as the superconducting charge builds and releases, sending a sleek, .50 caliber steel-jacketed depleted uranium round at near relativistic velocity towards that figure.

A fraction of a second later there is an explosion from the closest deployed walker as a rocket-propelled warhead explodes against it with the equivalent directed force of three quarters of a ton of TNT.

And the battle begins...

LordTravanix

Date: 2010-11-17 15:58 EST
The first shot was heard, the first volley fired. "My Lord, they have opened fire. The first rocket went through the night air. It was very lovely, of course. The stream of plasma as its thrust. He lined the shot up in his own scope and fired, taking out the rocket, causing it to explode violently over the space port.

He smiled darkly. "Open fire, pin point targeting only."

"Sir, we have lost contact with one of the patrols."

He didn't budge from his position as he steaded himself for another shot. "Which patrol?"

"Sir, it was the secondary unit."

Travanix chuckled. "I wonder how long it will take them to learn that I have intermixed civilians with real troopers?" He paused. "Status on the flight?"

"They are already inbound, My Lord."

"Excellent. Detonate the first circle."

The response was barely noticed as the first circle that surrounded the area exploded, creating a wall of fire that "sealed" in ground forces. There was no retreat for those who moved into his territory. "All units, open fire."

Bryan Myers

Date: 2011-03-01 10:54 EST
~The Spartan command vehicle~

Even if he had known civilians were mixed in with the enemy, it would have made little difference. His men don't stop to search the enemy after that first encounter - they accomplish their kills with swift, silent efficiency and move on without looking back.

Until the whole thing goes straight to hell.

Rockets flare into the armored walkers, their three-quarter-kiloton warheads exploding against heavy armor. Two of the smaller, two-legged walkers are destroyed outright. Other rockets find their marks against the bigger walkers, which reel from the impacts. Despite blackened and bent armor plates attesting to the power of the GTVA warheads used against them, the heavy walkers keep coming.

The command vehicle is just reaching the second line when the wall of fire goes up behind them, cutting them off from the nearly five hundred men that makes up their reserve.

He shoots a look to the ops center. Not a word is needed - an officer sitting at one of the stations pipes up immediately. "Incendiaries, sir. The burning track is too wide to cross by foot even in our armor, and we don't have enough ground vehicles to get everyone out..."

He nods, that grim look back again. People are going to die, and some of them will be his, no doubt...but if whoever their commander is thinks that they're cut off, done, or even close to a combination of the two, he'd better keep thinking. "Comms, get on the horn and get me a damage report from the fire teams. I want to know how their armor stood up to our first assault."

The officer speaks rapidly into his mic as the Colonel leans over to look at the sensor station. A grin touches his lips as he singles out three things and nods to himself, turning gaze to the major, just as the communications officer speaks up again.

"Colonel, the walkers appear to be two types - scout and assault. The scout walkers were destroyed outright by a single impact. The assault walkers are more heavbily armored, and show some damge but seem unhindered."

He nods, surprised by that last part but letting it wait until later. He has other cards to play. "Let's give as good as we get. Get the MBTs into play and throw the VTOLs into the mix. Weapons free. Order the VTOLs to come in hot with their big guns for the assault walkers, missiles for the scouts. Concentrate their fire on the lead assault walker first - let's see if we can take down one at a time."

It won't be enough to win, not nearly enough. He knows it. And he hates giving ground...but he knows that there's little else he can do but sacrifice himself and his men in a pointless display of bloody loss.

"Major, signal the twins. Have our reserve fall back, our front lines pull back into defensive positions. We have five minutes, men...let's make an impression with it!"

~Dragonfly Lead~

"Dragonflies, you are weapons free. Requesting air support. COncentrate big gun fire on heavy targets, missiles and light gun on the lightweights."

"Copy that, Command." With a grin, Captain Mike "Dervish" Ellis switches from radio to internal comms. "All right, Pip, let's go bag us some bad guys."

"About time." The female voice is lilting and girlish, entirely out of place in the gunner's seat of the Osprey VTOL. The woman herself was a petite figure, sweet and innocent-looking...until she set her eyes to the sights. Lieutenant Alice "Pip" Perabo might by eye candy and sweet on the ears besides, but her looks and voice had little to do with the big black man's choice of her as a gunner - the girl had the eyes of an eagle and the pinpoint accuracy of the truly bloodthirsty.

Not only that, but she enjoyed her work.

Switching back to comms, he keys the encrypted ship-to-ship laser comm system and transmits to his wingman. Captain Kyle "Weedeater" Jordan and Lieutenant John "Robin Hood" Kumar, men he'd flown and fought with the entirety of this six year ride. "Okay, Weeds, let's go pull their asses out of the fire again."

There is a chuckle and mic clicks as both VTOLs wheel and leap like scalded cats in the direction of the spaceport as Dervish switches back to the command frequency. "Dragonflies are rolling in hot, ETA, 35 seconds."

"Sensor feed online now, Captain."

"Find us a weakness, Pip."

It's mere seconds that pass as she looks over the date, but precious seconds. He's beginning to see the glow of fire and flashes from weapons fire...and something suggestive of large, lumbering forms. "Pip..."

"Yeah, I got it, Captain." He hears her switch to external comms. Switching to monitor, he hears her youthful voice take on a harder edge. "Dragonfly Lead to Komodo One..."

Bryan Myers

Date: 2011-03-01 10:56 EST
~Komodo One - Lead Dragon MBT~

Lieutenant j.g. Allen "Pretty Boy" Watanabe, the commander of the lead MBT, listens to the gunner of the lead Osprey, quickly scribbling on a pad. "Copy that, Dragonfly Lead. Wilco."

The inside of the Dragon Main Battle Tank is only slightly more spacious than its predecessors, a design that has changed little since the M1A1 Abrams of centuries ago...save for some upgrades to armor, weaponry, and - perhaps most importantly - drive and propulsion systems.

No more treads or wheels - this tank hovers over the ground on a cushion of ionized molecules varying from six inches to three feet thick, depending on the driver's needs, and each of the four anti-gravity generators can be individually configured if needs be.

Something that can only be managed by a Vasudan, and the one sitting behind the wheel is one of the very best.

Just above and behind the driver is the gunner, a human. Sergeant Kelly Ramirez, a surprisingly young - and deadly accurate - man. "All right, Growls, I need you hot on the stick. Kelly, I want a shot at these coordinates on the lead walker." Handing the slip over, he watches as the younger man's eyes widen a bit. "You know where we'll have to be to make this shot."

The commander nods, his expression grave. "Don't worry about that...leave it up to Growls here." He pats the Vasudan on the shoulder, who looks up at him and makes a growling sound in his own language that sounds like encouragement - by his own choice, the Vasudan chose to go without his translator in the tank, saying 'it takes up too much room'. They had gradually gotten the hang of at least his general meaning, if not the specifics.

The younger Terran nods, swallows and settles into his seat again, putting his eyes to the scope. Once more the voice of the man goes cooler. "I need to be about a hundred twenty meters closer and thirty-two meters to the left. Get us there quick - this is going to have to be from the hip, and I'll need you to stop on the dime, Growls...and as soon as I fire, move our asses out of the way. We get one shot at this, pup."

The Vasudan growls something back that sounds like annoyance, acknowledgement and amusement all rolled into one, and the tank surges forward like a bull out of the gate.

~The Spartan command vehicle~

"Colonel, I think you should listen to this."

Bryan steps over to the comms station and picks up the spare headset, putting one of the earpieces to his ear. A second later the grin springs forth again - it had been absent since the first explosions.

"Brilliant. Relay instructions to Komodo Two, take up position opposite of One. Give them the same firing coordinates and instructions, and tell them to book it double-time."

~The Dragon MBTs~

It takes about fourteen seconds for the tanks to reach their positions, during which shells are loaded, the cannons aimed, and the gunners in both tanks sighting in.

Another precious second that seems to stretch into infinity as each chooses their moment, watching the gait...waiting...

...and with a sudden jerk the cannon on Komodo One fires, followed by Two a half-second later.

Terran weaponry had changed little over the course of more than a millenium, from the first cannon until now...save for advances in metallurgy, design, aiming, and firing mechanisms.

Each round, instead of being fired by the standard combustible, is instead magnetically accellerated along a smoothbore barrel at near-relativistic velocity.

The rounds themselves are - once again - a credit to the commander of the Odysseus and his ability to think of just about everything. With a core of hardened tungsten steel wrapped in two layers - the inner of depleted uranium for density, wrapped in a layer of collapsed-core molybdenum for added mass and strength - each round weighs just shy of fifty pounds - nearly twice the weight of the ammunition from that long ago Abrams.

Tipping all of this is a cone of a material the fleet had found not long after the expedition into unknown space had begun. Upon analysis, they had found the metallic substanceto be a close cousin of Teflon - only lighter and more malleable.

The gunners of each tank are, naturally, the tip of the sword - the best, in other words - and their aim is dead-on, right under the 'neck' of the armored beast - a bulbous, circular protuberance that the sensor feeds from the Spartan showed was a drive motor.

The armor there is thinner than the bulkier topside, though it would be enough to ward off light weapons fire and the like.

But as each of the armor-piercing shells strike that area - the first on the down-stroke of its gait, the next on the opposite side as it bobs back up - the tips melt under the stress, coating the hardened proctiles as they smash through that thin armor like so much tinfoil.

It's not enough to destroy the walking tank, even as the projectiles continue on through the internals of the transport, taking out whatever else may be inside that armored hull,though they are finally stopped at the far side by the much thicker armor that shields the upper side of the walker.

But it is enough to bring it to cripple it and distract the crew inside from the two swift, wasplike VTOLs that suddenly pop up from among the trees surrounding the combat zone.

Each of the Ospreys carries six missiles and a chin-turret-mounted rotary cannon...none of which is going to have much effect on the huge armored walkers.

Fortunately, both also carry one other armament - two paired sets of railguns, a smaller version of the cannons on the MBTs below. And while they might fire lighter rounds, the light cannons on the VTOLs are capable of doing it in rapid fire.

And Pip had found a weakspot that mould be perfect to use them on.

As the VTOLs approach, they separate and circle, small and swift as insects - and just as hard to hit. And as each passes its firing point, those quadruple railguns open fire...

...right into the neck of the beast.