CarlManvers2019
Writers Blocked Douchebag
And somehow they’re fighting against a combination of raiders, mutated horrors and eldritch horrors that escaped due to the bombs falling
Fallout The Eagle And The Bear [Fallout AU]
- Thread starter Navarro
- Start date
And somehow they’re fighting against a combination of raiders, mutated horrors and eldritch horrors that escaped due to the bombs falling
TyrantTriumphant
Well-known member
That does sound fun. Bethesda should do that for Fallout 5. It would certainly be an interesting departure from the usual "Brotherhood of Steel versus evil scientists" plot we've gotten in every other game.
KnightTemplar
Active member
Are you every planning to update this on Spacebattles or let people there know that this story is still being updated here? I thought this story was dead and if someone hadn't posted that it was still alive on the Sietch in your profile posts than I wouldn't know otherwise.
I understand that SB has problems with their politics, but it doesn't seem fair to take it out on regular readers. If you don't want them on the Sietch for some reason you could even just post the story on Fanfiction or Ao3 and direct the SB people there.
I understand that SB has problems with their politics, but it doesn't seem fair to take it out on regular readers. If you don't want them on the Sietch for some reason you could even just post the story on Fanfiction or Ao3 and direct the SB people there.
Floridaman
Well-known member
Is he able to, I thought the reason he didn’t was he was one of the members who got in an argument with their mods.
KnightTemplar
Active member
I know that the NCR used bottlecaps as well as their own dollars back in F:NV, so presumably the Enclave devaluing the bottlecap must have impacted their economy in some fashion. Probably not as badly as in places like New Orleans since the NCR had a different currency to fall back on, but it's likely another thing the NCR holds against the Enclave.
Though after the initial damage was over it probably strengthened the NCR. Once the NCR had fully switched over to their own dollar then they would have had the same economic advantages over smaller communities that the Enclave did. That and not being tied to a currency that they don't control.
Though after the initial damage was over it probably strengthened the NCR. Once the NCR had fully switched over to their own dollar then they would have had the same economic advantages over smaller communities that the Enclave did. That and not being tied to a currency that they don't control.
CarlManvers2019
Writers Blocked Douchebag
At this point, nobody's using bottlecaps
The times of wasteland scavenging and bartering for goods is more-or-less over
Hell, you can't lower the price just by having a higher SPECIAL Stat, the cashier wouldn't say yes
KnightTemplar
Active member
Bottlecaps were always going to die out as a currency. The Enclave reappearing only sped that up.
It would have happened even earlier if the Brotherhood of Steel hadn't destroyed the NCR's gold supply. I believe that NCR dollars were the currency used in Fallout 2 instead of bottlecaps.
CarlManvers2019
Writers Blocked Douchebag
It was inevitable, the encroaching civilisation was the one thing that was necessitating the return of the Old World bit by bit
Hell, even without the Enclave, I recall the NCR was already doing research into plantlike, albeit mutated plantlife
Now that's a thought, the NCR's using Bighorns and Brahmin whereas the Enclave's using regular cows.....must be a cold day in hell when the sight of a one headed cow is more of a freak than a two headed one
Plus, even before then, I think the NCR had factories or chains of businesses based around making things like weapons like the Gun Runners
Eventually individual craftsmen would have been displaced by em all
Navarro
Well-known member
Finally broke through my writers' block, I think. Here's something as an apology for taking so long.
Garrison uniforms worn by members of the United States Army in base. First going over enlisted ranks from recruit to Sergeant, then a 1st. Lieutenant, a Colonel, and finally a 3-star General:
Then, a US Army soldier in armour:
Both were made using assets created by Grand-Lobster-King on Deviantart.
Garrison uniforms worn by members of the United States Army in base. First going over enlisted ranks from recruit to Sergeant, then a 1st. Lieutenant, a Colonel, and finally a 3-star General:
Then, a US Army soldier in armour:
Both were made using assets created by Grand-Lobster-King on Deviantart.
Last edited:
CarlManvers2019
Writers Blocked Douchebag
Then, a US Army soldier in armour:
Both were made using assets created by Grand-Lobster-King on Deviantart.
This looks much smaller or human sized than the power armour in-game
Technological advances really can make things smaller
ForeverShogo
Well-known member
Hmm. Looks less like power armor and more like someone decided to make regular armor in the style of power armor.
But if they've managed to make it just as effective without the bulk, they've certainly come a long way in improving it.
But if they've managed to make it just as effective without the bulk, they've certainly come a long way in improving it.
Navarro
Well-known member
It's based on the FO3 graphics style, the FO4 mod (which I view as being more 'true to life') has the X-02 be more bulky.
Navarro
Well-known member
Preview of ch. 21:
==*==
Sergeant Jim Fields ran forward through the dark, the light of the flashlight attached to his laser-rifle barely distinguishing things as he moved on into the now-abandoned trench lines. All he knew, basically, was that he was going towards the Enclave – it was nigh-impossible to see in the dreadful mixture of pitch-black darkness, freezing rain, and a gas-mask whose eye-pieces were simultaneously fogged over with his breath and slick with rain-droplets. Volleys of laser and plasma fire rang out from the retreating foe as they fell back – to where?, he wondered. The PA troops pursued them, as Fields and his men took cover in the very trenches so lately occupied by the Enclave. They crouched as tanks and APCs rolled over their heads for a couple seconds, then rose and joined the infantry following behind them.
Some of the vehicles were stopping in the barren plain – formerly a pre-War rail depot right next to what had been an international airport – to release squads of PA soldiers, who joined the advance. Behind them, in the Old World ruins that the Enclave trenches had been set up against, Rangers took up firing positions and fired with their lethal – even to powered armour – gauss rifles at the enemy, seeking to disrupt the retreat. The thunderbolt roars of hypervelocity projectiles split the night as they opened fire.
“Come on!” he roared, urging his squad to follow him. They all did, even Simmons with his duo-RCW - which he carried as the squad's designated SAW gunner - and Cassie with her grenade rifle. Ahead of them, lit by the glares of overhead explosions for seconds at a time, barely visible through the rain and the occlusion formed by the loping silhouettes of tanks, APCs and power-troopers, was a thin line of military barricades and sandbags, backed up in places by force-screens, already manned by the Enclave troops who’d fallen back. The last barrier before the NCR men could surge onto the airfield proper.
==*==
Sergeant Jim Fields ran forward through the dark, the light of the flashlight attached to his laser-rifle barely distinguishing things as he moved on into the now-abandoned trench lines. All he knew, basically, was that he was going towards the Enclave – it was nigh-impossible to see in the dreadful mixture of pitch-black darkness, freezing rain, and a gas-mask whose eye-pieces were simultaneously fogged over with his breath and slick with rain-droplets. Volleys of laser and plasma fire rang out from the retreating foe as they fell back – to where?, he wondered. The PA troops pursued them, as Fields and his men took cover in the very trenches so lately occupied by the Enclave. They crouched as tanks and APCs rolled over their heads for a couple seconds, then rose and joined the infantry following behind them.
Some of the vehicles were stopping in the barren plain – formerly a pre-War rail depot right next to what had been an international airport – to release squads of PA soldiers, who joined the advance. Behind them, in the Old World ruins that the Enclave trenches had been set up against, Rangers took up firing positions and fired with their lethal – even to powered armour – gauss rifles at the enemy, seeking to disrupt the retreat. The thunderbolt roars of hypervelocity projectiles split the night as they opened fire.
“Come on!” he roared, urging his squad to follow him. They all did, even Simmons with his duo-RCW - which he carried as the squad's designated SAW gunner - and Cassie with her grenade rifle. Ahead of them, lit by the glares of overhead explosions for seconds at a time, barely visible through the rain and the occlusion formed by the loping silhouettes of tanks, APCs and power-troopers, was a thin line of military barricades and sandbags, backed up in places by force-screens, already manned by the Enclave troops who’d fallen back. The last barrier before the NCR men could surge onto the airfield proper.
SuperHeavy
Well-known member
I have a sinking feeling that should the base be overrun, the last man alive has orders to press a very ominous red button.
Chapter Twenty-One
Navarro
Well-known member
Writer's block was terrible. Uuuurgh. But now the monster is slain at last!
==*==
Chapter Twenty-One
18:00 CST, December 28 2331, Outskirts of Chicago
The superheavy-battle-tank Invincible Eagle rolled onward along the stretch of I-290 known as Eisenhower Avenue out of the city of Chicago, flanked by her sisters Liberty’s Sword and Semper Victoria. Inside the belly of the beast, General Alexander Autumn awoke on his fold-out bed, still in uniform. He ran the fingers of his right hand over his Pip-boy, turning on its health monitoring program. Three hours of sleep, he mused, the exact time I intended. He pressed a button on the wall of his room and a projector displayed a holographic map of the combat zone, shimmering in the air. The enemy were pushing the southern lines hard, and might make a breakthrough before he arrived. He trusted and hoped that the boy Chase had a contingency. If not, the airbase was doomed. He took a deep breath and prayed for the safety of his daughter, then went to preparing his strategy.
The NG aerial troops were stationed at Grand Rapids, and could cross Lake Michigan in 30 minutes- that was some 20,000 men. The rest were largely moving by maglev from Detroit to Chicago – some 60,000, the mechanized troops having to leave many of their vehicles behind for transport. They’d be ready to move out against the NCR army’s northern positions by 03:00 hours – which he knew was also the time he should be in position to strike at Robertson’s southern flank. But everything depended on speed. He might yet be delayed significantly depending on local conditions, and that was what worried him.
If Robertson was able to take O’Hare before he could launch his attack, all he had to do was hold out – with the aid of the 60,000 NCR reinforcements that were coming in a day or less, along with the US Army’s own finely-constructed defenses – and he would be resupplied and reinforced, while the US Armed Forces would be denied a key logistical staging point for Mid-Western operations.
If that worst-case scenario took place, all that he would be able to do was try and bleed the NCR forces white in the city of Chicago itself for as long as possible. Everything west of the Toronto-Mobile Line would be at risk if he failed here.
He began preparing the final elements of his battle-plan over the holographic interface, and steeled himself for the dark night of battle that lay ahead.
--*--
It was one-hundred hours thirty on the twenty-ninth and Arlene Autumn was breathing fitfully in one of O’Hare AFB’s above-ground messes, waiting to be deployed along with her other squadron members. Formerly a departure lounge for civilian flights; the great hall had been repaired, militarised and redecorated for its new life as part of the US Air Force’s largest and most important base. Through the great windows – now forcefield-reinforced – and a veil of torrential rain she could see the flashes of brilliant blue lasers lighting up the night, mingled with the red-orange glare of explosions from rockets and artillery shells being blasted out of the sky. She could dimly see armoured trucks being loaded with troops and starting to move immediately below the window, marked with the blurry shapes of USAF logos. She knew what that meant. The AF Security troops – largely responsible for policing bases and guarding their perimeters – were moving to the front line.
“You reckon we’re gonna win this?” Cathy asked nervously.
“C’mon,” Arlene replied. “There’s 130,000 Army soldiers heading our way to save us, and that number again of the National Guard.”
“I mean, the NCR men haven’t been receiving supplies for ten days, and they’re beating us back,” Ostlund coolly replied. “Just what the Hell’s driving them?”
“No clue, Steve,” she curtly commented. “I wonder if they’re thinking the same of us.”
“I heard talk yesterday that they’ve got 60,000 men on the way to the west,” Ostlund continued. “And 200,000 more that have left Indianapolis.”
“Just talk, Steve,” she said. “I’ll believe it when I have those bastards in my sights.”
Ostlund looked in her eyes, curled his lip in a way he obviously thought was charmingly rogueish and prepared to suggest something. Knowing his probable intention, she thought of slapping his face, but controlled herself. Letting him know for certain his romantic chances with her wasn’t worth an administrative investigation, followed by ten to fifteen lashes. She certainly would be humiliated more than him. Instead, she just pouted.
Just then a loud noise came over the PA as Ostlund was opening his mouth, drowning out whatever he was going to say.
“ALL PILOTS, YOU ARE UNDER IMMEDIATE ORDERS TO ENTER YOUR PLANES AND PREPARE FOR TAKE-OFF.”
The pilots moved out of the hall in single-file, stampeding down the stairs that led out of the building, out into the chill night air. Each rain-drop that fell on Arlene’s skin bit deep, like she was being stabbed with countless spears of cold. It was a relief when she entered her plane, put down the canopy, and put the fusion engines on standby.
--*--
Sergeant Jim Fields ran forward through the dark, the light of the flashlight attached to his laser-rifle barely distinguishing things as he moved on into the now-abandoned trench lines. It was currently two-hundred hours and all he knew, basically, was that he was going towards the Enclave. It was nigh-impossible to see in the dreadful mixture of pitch-black darkness, freezing rain, and a gas-mask whose eye-pieces were simultaneously fogged over with his breath and slick with rain-droplets. Volleys of laser and plasma fire rang out from the retreating foe as they fell back – to where?, he wondered. The PA troops pursued them, as Fields and his men took cover in the very trenches so lately occupied by the Enclave. They crouched as tanks and APCs rolled over their heads for a couple seconds, then rose and joined the infantry following behind them.
Some of the vehicles were stopping in the barren plain – formerly a pre-War railyard right next to what had been an international airport – to release squads of PA soldiers, who joined the advance. Behind them, in the Old World ruins that the Enclave trenches had been set up against, Rangers took up firing positions and fired with their lethal – even to powered armour – gauss rifles at the enemy, seeking to disrupt the retreat. The thunderbolt roars of hyper-velocity projectiles split the night as they opened fire.
“Come on!” he shouted, urging his squad to follow him. “You want to live forever?”
They all did, even Simmons with his duo-RCW, which he carried as SAW gunner, and Cassie with her grenade rifle. Ahead of them; lit by the glare of overhead explosions for seconds at a time, barely visible through the rain and the occlusion formed by the advancing silhouettes of tanks, APCs and loping power-troopers, was a thin line of military barricades and sandbags amidst a wall of piled-up rubble from the pre-War warehouses that had once been here, backed up in places by force-screens. By the time he could see them clearly, the crude defences were already manned by the Enclave troops who’d fallen back, who he could distinguish in the darkness and rain mostly by the yellow-orange glare of their eye-lights. A chill always ran down his spine when he saw that gleam, and he guessed the rest of his men felt the same way. But still, he had to get a move on.
The last barrier before the NCR men could surge onto the airfield proper stood before him.
Even as he moved on, he could barely advance faster than a brisk walk. Lasers and plasma bolts spat forth from the enemy line in rapid succession, taking down even powered soldiers. He snap-fired shots back along with his squad-mates, barely expecting to hit any. He wasn’t sure if he did. Once he thought he took an unpowered soldier or two in the neck, but it might have been one of his subordinates.
Behind the enemy line, he could see the shapes of armoured trucks approaching, stopping briefly to spill out soldiers in pre-War combat armour. Where’ve they gotten these reinforcements from?, he mused. Their forces were being pressed at in all directions – they shouldn’t have the strength to spare any more troops!
But nevertheless, they swarmed out and took up defensive positions. Despite the relentless volleys of fire coming their way, the tanks pushed through the Enclave barricades, physically ramming through the sandbags set up in their way as special weapons teams fired sonic rifles to take out the forcefields. Fields saw explosions as the encroaching vehicles were met by anti-tank fire to the side, a good number being taken out wholesale. But they’d cleared the way, and infantry – both powered and not – surged through the gaps.
Fields was the first of his squad to clamber over a fallen barricade. But even as their last positions fell, the Enclave troops retreated in good order, still firing volleys of shots at NCR men before them or to their flanks. A number of stragglers were overrun and taken prisoner, but not anywhere near most of them.
Are they robots or clones?, he mused. His eye caught one of their powered soldiers carrying an injured unpowered trooper on his back – a sight that struck him like a thunderbolt. This isn’t how they’re supposed to behave!
Before he could register it as anything more than a greatly surprising oddity, his mind was filled with a sudden flash of horror he saw dark shapes approaching – the unmistakeable silhouettes of Enclave tanks, both light and heavy. They were moving out of what had evidently been a pre-War multistorey car park, seemingly militarised as a vehicle depot, and into pre-dug earthworks prepared for them. In front of them, the Enclave troops were reforming behind their very last defensive position – a low earthen rise, barely tall enough to kneel behind.
He ordered his men to scatter, seconds before they fired. As multiple brilliant blue-white beams of superheated, high-velocity plasma momentarily temporarily turned night to day, there was no room for shadows. He panted – barely able to see as the after-images faded from his retinas, it took some time before he could re-establish contact with the rest of his squad. They’d all survived, but around them men had evaporated or been reduced to charcoal statues by the intense heat. Steam from vaporised rain-drops filled his vision, and flames rose from APCs and tanks whose armour had been blasted through.
He called his men together into a shell-crater – they were damnably exposed on the wet tarmac of the road they were standing on.
Cassie loaded an AP grenade – one of the new rounds with Saturnite penetrators, to beat reactive armour – into her rifle, and fired. The projectile arced through the air elegantly and hit one of the enemy tanks – only for there to be a brilliant flash, a flicker of a forcefield, and the enemy vehicle’s armour to be dented but undamaged.
They have those now?!, he angrily thought, then looked upward to see one of the Enclave AA turrets, mounted on the roof of the depot, swivel towards the crater. Fields’ squad split again and ran like mad as dozens of laser-bolts split the air where they scant seconds before had stood. A heavy-weapon team hit the AA turret to a cheer from Fields’ men, only to be taken out scant seconds later by one of the dreadful plasma beams from the Enclave tanks.
As the battle went on, Fields noticed an awful truth – the NCR forces couldn’t use their full strength here. 43,000 men were pushing against a defence line a mile and a half long – the sheer number of the attacking force were weighing against them. Dead enemy powered soldiers were starting to rack up, but they had clean lines of fire – unlike in the Wood Dale/Elk Grove zone, where the urban combat between the two western bastions was somewhat favouring the NCR – and the NCR’s own casualties were starting to mount up.
All down the line, men were fighting and dying in groups. Fields felt only grim despair as he checked the time on his watch – 03:15. Just as they had at Rockford, the Enclave had buckled under attack after attack but had never broken. Just what will it take to bring them down?
He saw the sound of chopper engines overhead – ours or theirs – then saw brilliant green beams smash out from his own lines to illuminate the helicopters. They fell in mid-air, smashing into the tarmac of the enemy airfield. Then he heard artillery fire from behind his lines, followed shortly by explosions amongst the rear – where the laser AA is. They’re sacrificing their own men to get the co-ordinates. Guess they're that desperate.
--*--
In his command post, General Lance Robertson looked grimly at the tactical map. For God’s sake, McHenry, you should have waited for my order! The Lieutenant General in charge of the forces assigned to the southern sector had taken the Enclave retreat as a sign to fully pursue and press his men to the attack. He had been in the mood to order an artillery barrage to sweep the retreating foes aside – but the man had been eager for glory, and now he didn’t have any men to hold up his eastern flank against the Enclave’s reinforcements. There was a thin screen of Brotherhood forces on the south-eastern flank, but it wouldn’t be enough. He couldn’t fire his guns into a close range firefight such as the one he was facing, and to order McHenry to retreat now would cost him momentum right when he needed it most – never mind the casualties his retreating forces could meet if he gave the Enclave breathing room for a counter-attack.
He’d sent an offer of surrender asking the Enclave to give up, knowing it would be denied. Anything to swiftly end this quagmire, he mused.
The 60,000 coming from Davenport had been delayed. He might not be able to take O’Hare before his opposite number’s reinforcements arrived. In that case, he would have to regroup everybody at Rockford, and wait Ortez’s troops that were marching in retreat for Indianapolis. The engineers should have at least a rudimentary crossing – multiple ones, he had ordered – by next week at the latest. With supply-lines re-established, he would then be able to keep on fighting in Wisconsin and Illinois. This would be a setback if he lost, for sure, but not an end to the campaign.
He was most worried, for sure, about Ortez’s morale. His communiques recently had established a morose feeling about the invasion and the revelation of the truth. Could he trust the man to keep on giving his utmost? Lance certainly was still sure about himself.
--*--
General Julius Chase could feel a certain cold courage as he stood in his power armour in his office at the base’s above-ground command centre. The great hexagonal building stood in the centre of the base, an extension of the pre-War terminal that had replaced the ruins of a hotel and massive car park when O’Hare had been militarised. He looked out the high window to, eyes level, the flagpole on which, illuminated every few seconds by brilliant explosions and coruscating beams of energy, still flew – for the moment – Old Glory. He thought of how he had saluted her every morning at the elite schools he’d gone to, repeating the Pledge with a hundred other children. How he had gone to the Federal War Museum at DC and seen the Anchorage Victory Flag, reverently gazing on the 200-year -old fibres. There was a sign warning visitors not to touch, but it had not been needed.
I’ll die before I see you trodden into the mud by rebel boots, he thought as he looked into the circle of stars that was the most prominent feature of the flag’s top-left corner. He had gone into this armour and taken up a rifle simply so that if the enemy stormed into this room, if all else failed, they would have to kill him in battle.
He still didn’t know where Autumn was – he was under radio silence, but he’d been there too long. He was worried that something wasn’t right, that the rebels had somehow intercepted him.
He heard a voice ring loud and clear over his helmet radio. General Washington was asking permission to deploy the air assets into the fray.
“You have my permission, understood,” he replied.
--*--
Sgt. Royez breathed deep inside his power armour as he loped out onto the field. The timestamp in his HUD was 05:45, but it was still as dark as it had been at midnight. The muddy grass gave way underfoot as he ran towards the runway tarmac and the soldiers beyond it. They were on the verge of flanking the last Enclave defence line. Once this group and the battalions on the other side had defeated the blocking forces, the encirclement would be done within an hour. A third of their forces gone, the entirety of the southern force would be free to rampage across the air base to their hearts’ content, breaking the western defensive forces and moving to hit the northern side.
At least, if they beat the enemy. They had several tanks and a good number of IFVs – they were all powered here as well. Tricky to deal with, but the NCR troops had armoured support too, already ahead of Royez’s men. One of the Enclave tanks fired its main gun, unleashing a devastating plasma beam which took down the leading tank of a Coyote platoon, as it levied suppressing fire on Royez’s own squad, who’d taken cover in a shallow dip of earth, with its gatling laser. The other two took advantage of the opening to open up with Saturnite penetrator rounds at their targets – the tank that had just fired and another that was turning its turret to strike. The forcefields over the enemy vehicles buckled and broke – their reactive armour’s electric surge failed to stop the devastating ordnance from penetrating the tanks’ side armour. The stricken enemy vehicles stopped dead in their tracks. The Enclave tankers pulled out from their downed tanks, firing off defiant bursts of laser fire from their carbines at the general direction of the NCR’s forces.
One of their light tanks then opened up with a rail-round that hit one of the Coyotes from the side, right in its fusion plant. The vehicle’s whole back went up in a brilliant display that cooked off its ammo, sending the turret right off and hurtling through the air.
Just then, Royez started to hear the unmistakeable sound of vertibird engines. Scarcely had it happened than the enemy were on them like lightning. By the light of their plasma-chainguns, roaring as they took on the NCR’s tanks, he could see harsh angular shapes, painted black as night. Missiles and rockets poured out from whatever new kind of vertibird this was, further hitting the NCR’s armoured might.
He swore. The enemy were too low to the ground for the AA laser batteries and the heavy weapons teams were stuck between them and the Enclave ground forces. Even as they flew by they levied fire from the gatling lasers in their sides, raining death from above on the NCR troops. Disorganised like this, they sure as hell couldn’t flank the Enclave forces.
Missile fire took down two of the six aircraft covering them, but they had achieved enough for the Enclave men on the ground to launch a counter-attack that was pushing forward against Royez’s position.
Adding to the confusion, Royez saw deathclaws with implanted armour, glowing cybernetic eyes, and metal limbs appear out of thin air along with more of the bizarre black-shelled creatures, in the midst of their own positions.
Just then, at 06:30 he heard reports on the tactical networks from the southern flank of Enclave troops starting to advance in the army’s rear.
--*--
General Alexander Autumn struggled to keep his cool despite the disturbances as the superheavy battle tank he was in lurched to and fro in the rush of combat. His vehicle was flanked by her two sisters and two companies of Custer MBTs, with support from Lafayettes and mechanised PA infantry. A speartip that even now was stabbing into the heart of the NCR army, right at the junction where their southern and eastern forces met.
Outside, the town of Itasca was a maelstrom of conflict, but Autumn couldn’t care that much about the local circumstances. Those concerns were far below his pay grade. The general shape of the battle was going fairly well – the threatened enemy southern group was in full retreat, fearing total encirclement. Per his instructions he had neglected to carry that out, but he’d authorised the men fighting in the southern reaches of the battlespace to take prisoners when and where appropriate.
Truth be told though, this was still quite uncomfortable – the Constantine SHBT rang like a bell with every hit that struck its armour and was starting to feel uncomfortably warm despite the best efforts of its liquid nitrogen cooling system. The men had taken off their helmets, and Alex could only hope the battle would end soon and he could take his first taste of fresh air in far, far too long.
--*--
By 8 AM, Lance Robertson knew the battle was lost. The sun had just started its fitful rise across an uncannily clear December sky, and it lit up a ruined landscape as the NCR’s troops pulled away from the battlefield. Of their number, about 50,000 had fallen or been captured over the weeks of battle - a bitter toll, although more than made up for by the Davenport reinforcements. Nevertheless, the lack of supplies meant that he could not fight another for the time being. There were relatively few wounded to note - largely on account of the sheer killing power of the Enclave's military technology. A mercy.
He sighed within his command vehicle at the great effort he’d spent; that had, in the end been not to the NCR’s success. His overcorrection for the errors of High Command had been a mistake, but without the other factors that had sprung up it would have been a survivable one.
Still, the army was in good order as he made the final preparations for a strategic retreat to Rockford. Most of his combat and logistics vehicles were intact – one silver lining, for sure – but the heavy losses he’d suffered amongst his laser AA and artillery was another reason he couldn’t press on.
He knew there would be many more battles to come before this war, in whatever way it came to a conclusion, ended. And he had an odd feeling that his greatest deeds in this conflict were yet to come.
--*--
Alexander Autumn entered O’Hare AFB at ten-hundred-hours overwhelmed with exhaustion, and not feeling like much of a victor. He’d had the presence of mind to change his field uniform for a cleaned and ironed garrison suit, so as not to dress dirty in public. Leaving the Constantine tank for an armoured truck, he immediately drove to the centre of the base and entered the central structure. There were masses of troops camped out there in the entrance hall – a mix of pilots, National Guard, Army soldiers and Air Force security men, some awaiting treatment and others just extremely tired. He was half-surprised himself to catch his daughter’s eye for a moment – he gave a nod of recognition to Arlene and moved on, sending a wordless promise to talk less formally later.
A press crew with representatives of major local and national newspapers arrived at ten-thirty from the city to take some pictures and schedule interviews, which he acquiesced to, and after the photo op was done he talked with General Chase. The younger man was eager to discuss the military situation with him, and they quickly agreed that a pursuit of the enemy was unviable. Never mind instructions from the top – both forces, the defenders and the relievers, were too exhausted, and Chase’s men were still critically low on supplies.
Still, despite the victory he couldn’t help thinking on how it might have otherwise gone. If the operation to take out their supply line hadn’t worked out or been delayed, if they’d moved more of their men to here and not Indianapolis … a few thousand more Brotherhood men might even have tipped the balance. He had a feeling he would not be so lucky in the future. This and the Texan campaign were just the first actions of the war, and they demonstrated only that both sides were not as prepared as they thought they were.
He took a moment after his meeting with Chase to count the cost. He’d lost 8,000 of the 18,000 deployed by air to block Robertson’s reinforcements; 10,000 to 20,000 of the National Guard units, and a mere 6,000 of his main force. The Air Force had lost 4,000, the vast majority of that base security. Compared to the value of O’Hare AFB … he sadly had to admit that it was worth it. At eleven-thirty, after a short nap of some fifteen minutes, he was woken by a message on his Pip-boy. Tiredly he accepted the vidcall, not realising who it was until he saw the President’s own face on the screen. And it seemed from what he was saying that this wasn’t just a congratulation.
==*==
13:00 CST, December 29 2331
South-West of St. Louis, Missouri
Sgt. Walker looked out to the north, happy the chill wind couldn’t get into his armour. His company had been spending the last two days heading from trouble spot to trouble spot, as the US Army tried to hold the line on I-44 against what seemed an overwhelming NCR and Brotherhood army. Right now he was holed up in a pre-War suburban home which had been repaired, and then abandoned again shortly before their arrival; waiting for the enemy to move down the main street of the unprepossessing, rather dismal town they’d been deployed to.
Its name was Cuba, a fact that had brought Rita into spasms of laughter when she found out; Walker had been to Havana on a beach holiday when he was young, when the island was still a US territory, and he’d chuckled along with her. It was almost as ironic as the fact that the men who’d gone out to relieve St. Louis were now stuck here fighting against overwhelming force, hoping that help would arrive.
He stayed in his position, he and his men having concealed themselves fairly well in the dilapidated building, until he saw a decent-sized NCR force heading down the street, running southwards to attack the strongpoint at the crossroads at the centre of town. He sent the word over radio and his men burst out of the positions guns blazing, with the team above on the second floor providing covering fire. The NCR unit – a platoon-sized formation, light infantry – broke, men falling to the volleys of plasma fire or fleeing from their lives from the sudden assault. Three men threw down their guns and surrendered – he had Ray lead them into the upper room to be watched.
The enemy force, though taken aback, quickly rallied despite bursts of suppressive fire from the south. Taking cover in the houses and stores opposite Walker’s men, they opened up with sporadic laser fire and more focussed rapid-fire laser volleys from their automatic gunners. He had the grenadiers open up with plasma grenades, which took out a number of them, and Michaels scoured the street to the north with his gatling laser on any who dared move down it.
Amidst the explosions and bursts of laser or plasma fire, Walker could distantly hear the sound of engines and explosions high above – another battle, whose outcome was unknowable, was taking place beyond the clouds in the overcast skies.
Anyway, the tactical situation was-
The hypervelocity slug came out of seemingly nowhere and ripped through the right forearm of Walker’s suit before hitting the ground and tearing a small divot as it came to rest. He looked and saw the metallic gauntlet of his armour lying on the ground, as its automated medical systems pumped him with coagulants, Stim-pak regeneratives, Med-X, antibiotics. He looked to the ground and saw blood and shreds of flesh everywhere. He looked to his-
His right hand had been destroyed. The sight of the bloody ruin it had been reduced to overwhelmed him – he lost consciousness a moment and fell to the ground. Scant seconds later another gauss round rang out through the space where his head had been. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tyler swing round his Enola, level it at the area the shots had come from, and fire. Moments later he heard the roar of a large explosion from up the street. One of his men rushed out to stand over his fallen body as he tried to push himself up with his left hand, fired at enemies who were pushing forward on his position.
He could hear Ray’s voice from the man – even distorted through the synthesiser, the thick Southern accent was still recognisable. Good heavens, he thought, you haven't abandoned me.
Two others of his squad dragged him into the house by his head – an uncomfortable experience, even with the fog that still seemed to be clouding over his head. One of them, speaking in a voice he recognised as Rita’s, told him to stay still and not to move his right arm. She grabbed a first-aid kit, took out a silicone tourniquet, wrapped it firmly round his wrist, and swabbed the bloody mess that his hand been reduced to with Panacea antiseptic.
The fog started to lift, and she asked him to get out of armour. He did, and lay on a sofa while she spoke.
“I called for medevac as soon as you got hit,” she stated plainly. “It’s on its way, the TacNet says that reinforcements from St. Louis are coming in 15 minutes. Those NCR chochamadres are backing away from us.”
“Good to hear,” Walker replied, out of breath. The fog over his mind was starting to lift – unfortunately, that meant the pain was starting to return.
He gritted his teeth. He’d sure been injured badly, but he knew this wasn’t the end for him. It could have been worse.
--*--
Several miles away, General Friedman was panicking. He was pushing the Texan turncoats and their Enclave masters hard, but the troops – some 30,000 – he’d sent into the hills east of here to block their force by the river hadn’t encountered them. Now he was receiving reports that they’d swung round the hills instead of pushing through them and – damnably – they had support from the city garrison. The Brotherhood force there had gone silent some hours ago, but they couldn’t have-
He wasn’t sure what to do. His left flank was wide open and the situation had turned against him. With Brotherhood support, maybe he could-
To hell with the Brotherhood. The memory of how his grandfather had died during the battle of Helios One blasted through his mind like an artillery shell, as if it had just happened all over again. Despite all the official agreements, he'd no personal obligation to destroy his own army in the name of defending their territory. He would preserve his own forces for right now and prepare another operation against the Enclave as soon as possible. They had 35,000 fresh troops from Kansas City coming to their aid, at any rate. May it do them good.
At 15:00 hours, the NCR forces engaged in Missouri began their retreat to Kansas City.
==*==
18:00 PST, 29 December 2331
La Paz, NCR State of Baja
The town of La Paz suited Admiral Charles Fletcher well as he stood on the deck of his flagship, the NCS Mojave. Nestled in a cove near the tip of the Baja peninsula, its harbour had recently been refashioned into a naval station in the past few years, after the NCR had established control of the Strait of Nicaragua. And now the NCR’s southern fleet was taking on additional supplies here, in preparation for the planned destruction of the Enclave’s fleet in the Caribbean sea. The ships were fairly good – based on the pre-War designs recovered from Alaska and Hawaii, they were the best the NCR could make. He had four carriers – 180 metres long; two battleships; twelve cruisers, and sixteen destroyers. A sizeable force, and he’d no doubt it would be enough.
The journey from their base at Long Beach had been filled with nervous rumours below decks about the war and what was going on in Texas; the second leg, from La Paz to their confrontation with the Enclave, would likely also be such. But as he looked on the starlit town, with its picturesque lanterns shining in the windows of red-tiled adobe buildings, Fletcher felt more at peace than ever. No matter what befell him in the days and weeks to come, this moment was a good one.
==*==
Chapter Twenty-One
18:00 CST, December 28 2331, Outskirts of Chicago
The superheavy-battle-tank Invincible Eagle rolled onward along the stretch of I-290 known as Eisenhower Avenue out of the city of Chicago, flanked by her sisters Liberty’s Sword and Semper Victoria. Inside the belly of the beast, General Alexander Autumn awoke on his fold-out bed, still in uniform. He ran the fingers of his right hand over his Pip-boy, turning on its health monitoring program. Three hours of sleep, he mused, the exact time I intended. He pressed a button on the wall of his room and a projector displayed a holographic map of the combat zone, shimmering in the air. The enemy were pushing the southern lines hard, and might make a breakthrough before he arrived. He trusted and hoped that the boy Chase had a contingency. If not, the airbase was doomed. He took a deep breath and prayed for the safety of his daughter, then went to preparing his strategy.
The NG aerial troops were stationed at Grand Rapids, and could cross Lake Michigan in 30 minutes- that was some 20,000 men. The rest were largely moving by maglev from Detroit to Chicago – some 60,000, the mechanized troops having to leave many of their vehicles behind for transport. They’d be ready to move out against the NCR army’s northern positions by 03:00 hours – which he knew was also the time he should be in position to strike at Robertson’s southern flank. But everything depended on speed. He might yet be delayed significantly depending on local conditions, and that was what worried him.
If Robertson was able to take O’Hare before he could launch his attack, all he had to do was hold out – with the aid of the 60,000 NCR reinforcements that were coming in a day or less, along with the US Army’s own finely-constructed defenses – and he would be resupplied and reinforced, while the US Armed Forces would be denied a key logistical staging point for Mid-Western operations.
If that worst-case scenario took place, all that he would be able to do was try and bleed the NCR forces white in the city of Chicago itself for as long as possible. Everything west of the Toronto-Mobile Line would be at risk if he failed here.
He began preparing the final elements of his battle-plan over the holographic interface, and steeled himself for the dark night of battle that lay ahead.
--*--
It was one-hundred hours thirty on the twenty-ninth and Arlene Autumn was breathing fitfully in one of O’Hare AFB’s above-ground messes, waiting to be deployed along with her other squadron members. Formerly a departure lounge for civilian flights; the great hall had been repaired, militarised and redecorated for its new life as part of the US Air Force’s largest and most important base. Through the great windows – now forcefield-reinforced – and a veil of torrential rain she could see the flashes of brilliant blue lasers lighting up the night, mingled with the red-orange glare of explosions from rockets and artillery shells being blasted out of the sky. She could dimly see armoured trucks being loaded with troops and starting to move immediately below the window, marked with the blurry shapes of USAF logos. She knew what that meant. The AF Security troops – largely responsible for policing bases and guarding their perimeters – were moving to the front line.
“You reckon we’re gonna win this?” Cathy asked nervously.
“C’mon,” Arlene replied. “There’s 130,000 Army soldiers heading our way to save us, and that number again of the National Guard.”
“I mean, the NCR men haven’t been receiving supplies for ten days, and they’re beating us back,” Ostlund coolly replied. “Just what the Hell’s driving them?”
“No clue, Steve,” she curtly commented. “I wonder if they’re thinking the same of us.”
“I heard talk yesterday that they’ve got 60,000 men on the way to the west,” Ostlund continued. “And 200,000 more that have left Indianapolis.”
“Just talk, Steve,” she said. “I’ll believe it when I have those bastards in my sights.”
Ostlund looked in her eyes, curled his lip in a way he obviously thought was charmingly rogueish and prepared to suggest something. Knowing his probable intention, she thought of slapping his face, but controlled herself. Letting him know for certain his romantic chances with her wasn’t worth an administrative investigation, followed by ten to fifteen lashes. She certainly would be humiliated more than him. Instead, she just pouted.
Just then a loud noise came over the PA as Ostlund was opening his mouth, drowning out whatever he was going to say.
“ALL PILOTS, YOU ARE UNDER IMMEDIATE ORDERS TO ENTER YOUR PLANES AND PREPARE FOR TAKE-OFF.”
The pilots moved out of the hall in single-file, stampeding down the stairs that led out of the building, out into the chill night air. Each rain-drop that fell on Arlene’s skin bit deep, like she was being stabbed with countless spears of cold. It was a relief when she entered her plane, put down the canopy, and put the fusion engines on standby.
--*--
Sergeant Jim Fields ran forward through the dark, the light of the flashlight attached to his laser-rifle barely distinguishing things as he moved on into the now-abandoned trench lines. It was currently two-hundred hours and all he knew, basically, was that he was going towards the Enclave. It was nigh-impossible to see in the dreadful mixture of pitch-black darkness, freezing rain, and a gas-mask whose eye-pieces were simultaneously fogged over with his breath and slick with rain-droplets. Volleys of laser and plasma fire rang out from the retreating foe as they fell back – to where?, he wondered. The PA troops pursued them, as Fields and his men took cover in the very trenches so lately occupied by the Enclave. They crouched as tanks and APCs rolled over their heads for a couple seconds, then rose and joined the infantry following behind them.
Some of the vehicles were stopping in the barren plain – formerly a pre-War railyard right next to what had been an international airport – to release squads of PA soldiers, who joined the advance. Behind them, in the Old World ruins that the Enclave trenches had been set up against, Rangers took up firing positions and fired with their lethal – even to powered armour – gauss rifles at the enemy, seeking to disrupt the retreat. The thunderbolt roars of hyper-velocity projectiles split the night as they opened fire.
“Come on!” he shouted, urging his squad to follow him. “You want to live forever?”
They all did, even Simmons with his duo-RCW, which he carried as SAW gunner, and Cassie with her grenade rifle. Ahead of them; lit by the glare of overhead explosions for seconds at a time, barely visible through the rain and the occlusion formed by the advancing silhouettes of tanks, APCs and loping power-troopers, was a thin line of military barricades and sandbags amidst a wall of piled-up rubble from the pre-War warehouses that had once been here, backed up in places by force-screens. By the time he could see them clearly, the crude defences were already manned by the Enclave troops who’d fallen back, who he could distinguish in the darkness and rain mostly by the yellow-orange glare of their eye-lights. A chill always ran down his spine when he saw that gleam, and he guessed the rest of his men felt the same way. But still, he had to get a move on.
The last barrier before the NCR men could surge onto the airfield proper stood before him.
Even as he moved on, he could barely advance faster than a brisk walk. Lasers and plasma bolts spat forth from the enemy line in rapid succession, taking down even powered soldiers. He snap-fired shots back along with his squad-mates, barely expecting to hit any. He wasn’t sure if he did. Once he thought he took an unpowered soldier or two in the neck, but it might have been one of his subordinates.
Behind the enemy line, he could see the shapes of armoured trucks approaching, stopping briefly to spill out soldiers in pre-War combat armour. Where’ve they gotten these reinforcements from?, he mused. Their forces were being pressed at in all directions – they shouldn’t have the strength to spare any more troops!
But nevertheless, they swarmed out and took up defensive positions. Despite the relentless volleys of fire coming their way, the tanks pushed through the Enclave barricades, physically ramming through the sandbags set up in their way as special weapons teams fired sonic rifles to take out the forcefields. Fields saw explosions as the encroaching vehicles were met by anti-tank fire to the side, a good number being taken out wholesale. But they’d cleared the way, and infantry – both powered and not – surged through the gaps.
Fields was the first of his squad to clamber over a fallen barricade. But even as their last positions fell, the Enclave troops retreated in good order, still firing volleys of shots at NCR men before them or to their flanks. A number of stragglers were overrun and taken prisoner, but not anywhere near most of them.
Are they robots or clones?, he mused. His eye caught one of their powered soldiers carrying an injured unpowered trooper on his back – a sight that struck him like a thunderbolt. This isn’t how they’re supposed to behave!
Before he could register it as anything more than a greatly surprising oddity, his mind was filled with a sudden flash of horror he saw dark shapes approaching – the unmistakeable silhouettes of Enclave tanks, both light and heavy. They were moving out of what had evidently been a pre-War multistorey car park, seemingly militarised as a vehicle depot, and into pre-dug earthworks prepared for them. In front of them, the Enclave troops were reforming behind their very last defensive position – a low earthen rise, barely tall enough to kneel behind.
He ordered his men to scatter, seconds before they fired. As multiple brilliant blue-white beams of superheated, high-velocity plasma momentarily temporarily turned night to day, there was no room for shadows. He panted – barely able to see as the after-images faded from his retinas, it took some time before he could re-establish contact with the rest of his squad. They’d all survived, but around them men had evaporated or been reduced to charcoal statues by the intense heat. Steam from vaporised rain-drops filled his vision, and flames rose from APCs and tanks whose armour had been blasted through.
He called his men together into a shell-crater – they were damnably exposed on the wet tarmac of the road they were standing on.
Cassie loaded an AP grenade – one of the new rounds with Saturnite penetrators, to beat reactive armour – into her rifle, and fired. The projectile arced through the air elegantly and hit one of the enemy tanks – only for there to be a brilliant flash, a flicker of a forcefield, and the enemy vehicle’s armour to be dented but undamaged.
They have those now?!, he angrily thought, then looked upward to see one of the Enclave AA turrets, mounted on the roof of the depot, swivel towards the crater. Fields’ squad split again and ran like mad as dozens of laser-bolts split the air where they scant seconds before had stood. A heavy-weapon team hit the AA turret to a cheer from Fields’ men, only to be taken out scant seconds later by one of the dreadful plasma beams from the Enclave tanks.
As the battle went on, Fields noticed an awful truth – the NCR forces couldn’t use their full strength here. 43,000 men were pushing against a defence line a mile and a half long – the sheer number of the attacking force were weighing against them. Dead enemy powered soldiers were starting to rack up, but they had clean lines of fire – unlike in the Wood Dale/Elk Grove zone, where the urban combat between the two western bastions was somewhat favouring the NCR – and the NCR’s own casualties were starting to mount up.
All down the line, men were fighting and dying in groups. Fields felt only grim despair as he checked the time on his watch – 03:15. Just as they had at Rockford, the Enclave had buckled under attack after attack but had never broken. Just what will it take to bring them down?
He saw the sound of chopper engines overhead – ours or theirs – then saw brilliant green beams smash out from his own lines to illuminate the helicopters. They fell in mid-air, smashing into the tarmac of the enemy airfield. Then he heard artillery fire from behind his lines, followed shortly by explosions amongst the rear – where the laser AA is. They’re sacrificing their own men to get the co-ordinates. Guess they're that desperate.
--*--
In his command post, General Lance Robertson looked grimly at the tactical map. For God’s sake, McHenry, you should have waited for my order! The Lieutenant General in charge of the forces assigned to the southern sector had taken the Enclave retreat as a sign to fully pursue and press his men to the attack. He had been in the mood to order an artillery barrage to sweep the retreating foes aside – but the man had been eager for glory, and now he didn’t have any men to hold up his eastern flank against the Enclave’s reinforcements. There was a thin screen of Brotherhood forces on the south-eastern flank, but it wouldn’t be enough. He couldn’t fire his guns into a close range firefight such as the one he was facing, and to order McHenry to retreat now would cost him momentum right when he needed it most – never mind the casualties his retreating forces could meet if he gave the Enclave breathing room for a counter-attack.
He’d sent an offer of surrender asking the Enclave to give up, knowing it would be denied. Anything to swiftly end this quagmire, he mused.
The 60,000 coming from Davenport had been delayed. He might not be able to take O’Hare before his opposite number’s reinforcements arrived. In that case, he would have to regroup everybody at Rockford, and wait Ortez’s troops that were marching in retreat for Indianapolis. The engineers should have at least a rudimentary crossing – multiple ones, he had ordered – by next week at the latest. With supply-lines re-established, he would then be able to keep on fighting in Wisconsin and Illinois. This would be a setback if he lost, for sure, but not an end to the campaign.
He was most worried, for sure, about Ortez’s morale. His communiques recently had established a morose feeling about the invasion and the revelation of the truth. Could he trust the man to keep on giving his utmost? Lance certainly was still sure about himself.
--*--
General Julius Chase could feel a certain cold courage as he stood in his power armour in his office at the base’s above-ground command centre. The great hexagonal building stood in the centre of the base, an extension of the pre-War terminal that had replaced the ruins of a hotel and massive car park when O’Hare had been militarised. He looked out the high window to, eyes level, the flagpole on which, illuminated every few seconds by brilliant explosions and coruscating beams of energy, still flew – for the moment – Old Glory. He thought of how he had saluted her every morning at the elite schools he’d gone to, repeating the Pledge with a hundred other children. How he had gone to the Federal War Museum at DC and seen the Anchorage Victory Flag, reverently gazing on the 200-year -old fibres. There was a sign warning visitors not to touch, but it had not been needed.
I’ll die before I see you trodden into the mud by rebel boots, he thought as he looked into the circle of stars that was the most prominent feature of the flag’s top-left corner. He had gone into this armour and taken up a rifle simply so that if the enemy stormed into this room, if all else failed, they would have to kill him in battle.
He still didn’t know where Autumn was – he was under radio silence, but he’d been there too long. He was worried that something wasn’t right, that the rebels had somehow intercepted him.
He heard a voice ring loud and clear over his helmet radio. General Washington was asking permission to deploy the air assets into the fray.
“You have my permission, understood,” he replied.
--*--
Sgt. Royez breathed deep inside his power armour as he loped out onto the field. The timestamp in his HUD was 05:45, but it was still as dark as it had been at midnight. The muddy grass gave way underfoot as he ran towards the runway tarmac and the soldiers beyond it. They were on the verge of flanking the last Enclave defence line. Once this group and the battalions on the other side had defeated the blocking forces, the encirclement would be done within an hour. A third of their forces gone, the entirety of the southern force would be free to rampage across the air base to their hearts’ content, breaking the western defensive forces and moving to hit the northern side.
At least, if they beat the enemy. They had several tanks and a good number of IFVs – they were all powered here as well. Tricky to deal with, but the NCR troops had armoured support too, already ahead of Royez’s men. One of the Enclave tanks fired its main gun, unleashing a devastating plasma beam which took down the leading tank of a Coyote platoon, as it levied suppressing fire on Royez’s own squad, who’d taken cover in a shallow dip of earth, with its gatling laser. The other two took advantage of the opening to open up with Saturnite penetrator rounds at their targets – the tank that had just fired and another that was turning its turret to strike. The forcefields over the enemy vehicles buckled and broke – their reactive armour’s electric surge failed to stop the devastating ordnance from penetrating the tanks’ side armour. The stricken enemy vehicles stopped dead in their tracks. The Enclave tankers pulled out from their downed tanks, firing off defiant bursts of laser fire from their carbines at the general direction of the NCR’s forces.
One of their light tanks then opened up with a rail-round that hit one of the Coyotes from the side, right in its fusion plant. The vehicle’s whole back went up in a brilliant display that cooked off its ammo, sending the turret right off and hurtling through the air.
Just then, Royez started to hear the unmistakeable sound of vertibird engines. Scarcely had it happened than the enemy were on them like lightning. By the light of their plasma-chainguns, roaring as they took on the NCR’s tanks, he could see harsh angular shapes, painted black as night. Missiles and rockets poured out from whatever new kind of vertibird this was, further hitting the NCR’s armoured might.
He swore. The enemy were too low to the ground for the AA laser batteries and the heavy weapons teams were stuck between them and the Enclave ground forces. Even as they flew by they levied fire from the gatling lasers in their sides, raining death from above on the NCR troops. Disorganised like this, they sure as hell couldn’t flank the Enclave forces.
Missile fire took down two of the six aircraft covering them, but they had achieved enough for the Enclave men on the ground to launch a counter-attack that was pushing forward against Royez’s position.
Adding to the confusion, Royez saw deathclaws with implanted armour, glowing cybernetic eyes, and metal limbs appear out of thin air along with more of the bizarre black-shelled creatures, in the midst of their own positions.
Just then, at 06:30 he heard reports on the tactical networks from the southern flank of Enclave troops starting to advance in the army’s rear.
--*--
General Alexander Autumn struggled to keep his cool despite the disturbances as the superheavy battle tank he was in lurched to and fro in the rush of combat. His vehicle was flanked by her two sisters and two companies of Custer MBTs, with support from Lafayettes and mechanised PA infantry. A speartip that even now was stabbing into the heart of the NCR army, right at the junction where their southern and eastern forces met.
Outside, the town of Itasca was a maelstrom of conflict, but Autumn couldn’t care that much about the local circumstances. Those concerns were far below his pay grade. The general shape of the battle was going fairly well – the threatened enemy southern group was in full retreat, fearing total encirclement. Per his instructions he had neglected to carry that out, but he’d authorised the men fighting in the southern reaches of the battlespace to take prisoners when and where appropriate.
Truth be told though, this was still quite uncomfortable – the Constantine SHBT rang like a bell with every hit that struck its armour and was starting to feel uncomfortably warm despite the best efforts of its liquid nitrogen cooling system. The men had taken off their helmets, and Alex could only hope the battle would end soon and he could take his first taste of fresh air in far, far too long.
--*--
By 8 AM, Lance Robertson knew the battle was lost. The sun had just started its fitful rise across an uncannily clear December sky, and it lit up a ruined landscape as the NCR’s troops pulled away from the battlefield. Of their number, about 50,000 had fallen or been captured over the weeks of battle - a bitter toll, although more than made up for by the Davenport reinforcements. Nevertheless, the lack of supplies meant that he could not fight another for the time being. There were relatively few wounded to note - largely on account of the sheer killing power of the Enclave's military technology. A mercy.
He sighed within his command vehicle at the great effort he’d spent; that had, in the end been not to the NCR’s success. His overcorrection for the errors of High Command had been a mistake, but without the other factors that had sprung up it would have been a survivable one.
Still, the army was in good order as he made the final preparations for a strategic retreat to Rockford. Most of his combat and logistics vehicles were intact – one silver lining, for sure – but the heavy losses he’d suffered amongst his laser AA and artillery was another reason he couldn’t press on.
He knew there would be many more battles to come before this war, in whatever way it came to a conclusion, ended. And he had an odd feeling that his greatest deeds in this conflict were yet to come.
--*--
Alexander Autumn entered O’Hare AFB at ten-hundred-hours overwhelmed with exhaustion, and not feeling like much of a victor. He’d had the presence of mind to change his field uniform for a cleaned and ironed garrison suit, so as not to dress dirty in public. Leaving the Constantine tank for an armoured truck, he immediately drove to the centre of the base and entered the central structure. There were masses of troops camped out there in the entrance hall – a mix of pilots, National Guard, Army soldiers and Air Force security men, some awaiting treatment and others just extremely tired. He was half-surprised himself to catch his daughter’s eye for a moment – he gave a nod of recognition to Arlene and moved on, sending a wordless promise to talk less formally later.
A press crew with representatives of major local and national newspapers arrived at ten-thirty from the city to take some pictures and schedule interviews, which he acquiesced to, and after the photo op was done he talked with General Chase. The younger man was eager to discuss the military situation with him, and they quickly agreed that a pursuit of the enemy was unviable. Never mind instructions from the top – both forces, the defenders and the relievers, were too exhausted, and Chase’s men were still critically low on supplies.
Still, despite the victory he couldn’t help thinking on how it might have otherwise gone. If the operation to take out their supply line hadn’t worked out or been delayed, if they’d moved more of their men to here and not Indianapolis … a few thousand more Brotherhood men might even have tipped the balance. He had a feeling he would not be so lucky in the future. This and the Texan campaign were just the first actions of the war, and they demonstrated only that both sides were not as prepared as they thought they were.
He took a moment after his meeting with Chase to count the cost. He’d lost 8,000 of the 18,000 deployed by air to block Robertson’s reinforcements; 10,000 to 20,000 of the National Guard units, and a mere 6,000 of his main force. The Air Force had lost 4,000, the vast majority of that base security. Compared to the value of O’Hare AFB … he sadly had to admit that it was worth it. At eleven-thirty, after a short nap of some fifteen minutes, he was woken by a message on his Pip-boy. Tiredly he accepted the vidcall, not realising who it was until he saw the President’s own face on the screen. And it seemed from what he was saying that this wasn’t just a congratulation.
==*==
13:00 CST, December 29 2331
South-West of St. Louis, Missouri
Sgt. Walker looked out to the north, happy the chill wind couldn’t get into his armour. His company had been spending the last two days heading from trouble spot to trouble spot, as the US Army tried to hold the line on I-44 against what seemed an overwhelming NCR and Brotherhood army. Right now he was holed up in a pre-War suburban home which had been repaired, and then abandoned again shortly before their arrival; waiting for the enemy to move down the main street of the unprepossessing, rather dismal town they’d been deployed to.
Its name was Cuba, a fact that had brought Rita into spasms of laughter when she found out; Walker had been to Havana on a beach holiday when he was young, when the island was still a US territory, and he’d chuckled along with her. It was almost as ironic as the fact that the men who’d gone out to relieve St. Louis were now stuck here fighting against overwhelming force, hoping that help would arrive.
He stayed in his position, he and his men having concealed themselves fairly well in the dilapidated building, until he saw a decent-sized NCR force heading down the street, running southwards to attack the strongpoint at the crossroads at the centre of town. He sent the word over radio and his men burst out of the positions guns blazing, with the team above on the second floor providing covering fire. The NCR unit – a platoon-sized formation, light infantry – broke, men falling to the volleys of plasma fire or fleeing from their lives from the sudden assault. Three men threw down their guns and surrendered – he had Ray lead them into the upper room to be watched.
The enemy force, though taken aback, quickly rallied despite bursts of suppressive fire from the south. Taking cover in the houses and stores opposite Walker’s men, they opened up with sporadic laser fire and more focussed rapid-fire laser volleys from their automatic gunners. He had the grenadiers open up with plasma grenades, which took out a number of them, and Michaels scoured the street to the north with his gatling laser on any who dared move down it.
Amidst the explosions and bursts of laser or plasma fire, Walker could distantly hear the sound of engines and explosions high above – another battle, whose outcome was unknowable, was taking place beyond the clouds in the overcast skies.
Anyway, the tactical situation was-
The hypervelocity slug came out of seemingly nowhere and ripped through the right forearm of Walker’s suit before hitting the ground and tearing a small divot as it came to rest. He looked and saw the metallic gauntlet of his armour lying on the ground, as its automated medical systems pumped him with coagulants, Stim-pak regeneratives, Med-X, antibiotics. He looked to the ground and saw blood and shreds of flesh everywhere. He looked to his-
His right hand had been destroyed. The sight of the bloody ruin it had been reduced to overwhelmed him – he lost consciousness a moment and fell to the ground. Scant seconds later another gauss round rang out through the space where his head had been. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tyler swing round his Enola, level it at the area the shots had come from, and fire. Moments later he heard the roar of a large explosion from up the street. One of his men rushed out to stand over his fallen body as he tried to push himself up with his left hand, fired at enemies who were pushing forward on his position.
He could hear Ray’s voice from the man – even distorted through the synthesiser, the thick Southern accent was still recognisable. Good heavens, he thought, you haven't abandoned me.
Two others of his squad dragged him into the house by his head – an uncomfortable experience, even with the fog that still seemed to be clouding over his head. One of them, speaking in a voice he recognised as Rita’s, told him to stay still and not to move his right arm. She grabbed a first-aid kit, took out a silicone tourniquet, wrapped it firmly round his wrist, and swabbed the bloody mess that his hand been reduced to with Panacea antiseptic.
The fog started to lift, and she asked him to get out of armour. He did, and lay on a sofa while she spoke.
“I called for medevac as soon as you got hit,” she stated plainly. “It’s on its way, the TacNet says that reinforcements from St. Louis are coming in 15 minutes. Those NCR chochamadres are backing away from us.”
“Good to hear,” Walker replied, out of breath. The fog over his mind was starting to lift – unfortunately, that meant the pain was starting to return.
He gritted his teeth. He’d sure been injured badly, but he knew this wasn’t the end for him. It could have been worse.
--*--
Several miles away, General Friedman was panicking. He was pushing the Texan turncoats and their Enclave masters hard, but the troops – some 30,000 – he’d sent into the hills east of here to block their force by the river hadn’t encountered them. Now he was receiving reports that they’d swung round the hills instead of pushing through them and – damnably – they had support from the city garrison. The Brotherhood force there had gone silent some hours ago, but they couldn’t have-
He wasn’t sure what to do. His left flank was wide open and the situation had turned against him. With Brotherhood support, maybe he could-
To hell with the Brotherhood. The memory of how his grandfather had died during the battle of Helios One blasted through his mind like an artillery shell, as if it had just happened all over again. Despite all the official agreements, he'd no personal obligation to destroy his own army in the name of defending their territory. He would preserve his own forces for right now and prepare another operation against the Enclave as soon as possible. They had 35,000 fresh troops from Kansas City coming to their aid, at any rate. May it do them good.
At 15:00 hours, the NCR forces engaged in Missouri began their retreat to Kansas City.
==*==
18:00 PST, 29 December 2331
La Paz, NCR State of Baja
The town of La Paz suited Admiral Charles Fletcher well as he stood on the deck of his flagship, the NCS Mojave. Nestled in a cove near the tip of the Baja peninsula, its harbour had recently been refashioned into a naval station in the past few years, after the NCR had established control of the Strait of Nicaragua. And now the NCR’s southern fleet was taking on additional supplies here, in preparation for the planned destruction of the Enclave’s fleet in the Caribbean sea. The ships were fairly good – based on the pre-War designs recovered from Alaska and Hawaii, they were the best the NCR could make. He had four carriers – 180 metres long; two battleships; twelve cruisers, and sixteen destroyers. A sizeable force, and he’d no doubt it would be enough.
The journey from their base at Long Beach had been filled with nervous rumours below decks about the war and what was going on in Texas; the second leg, from La Paz to their confrontation with the Enclave, would likely also be such. But as he looked on the starlit town, with its picturesque lanterns shining in the windows of red-tiled adobe buildings, Fletcher felt more at peace than ever. No matter what befell him in the days and weeks to come, this moment was a good one.
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Interesting... It's becoming a meat grinder for both sides, but it looks like the Enclave has weathered the first blow.
Navarro
Well-known member
Tidbit of Ch. 22:
==*==
Leopold ‘Leo’ Richardson, Vice President of the USA, walked into the Senate Chamber with measured steps, taking in the site of the rebuilt and redecorated meeting place of one of the two branches of the United States’ legislature. It never failed to fill him with a sense of reverence – the Grecian decorations, the gilded upper walls and blue-and-gold carpet, the friezed recesses in the lower walls where full-body oil-paintings of famous past members of the august body that met here were placed.
The full 128 Senators were in attendance on this, what would be the very last legislative meeting of 2331, to discuss the Military Appropriations Act 2332. Military funding had been at 10% of GDP in 2330, 15% the past year, and would be set to 20% for 2332. But such economic issues weren’t the reason he was here. A number of new amendments to the bill had been made just yesterday, one of which would for certain be controversial.
It was a rider consisting of the full text of the Treaty of Reynosa; signed by the US President and the President of the Republic of the Rio Grande, it annexed the latter to the former as a US Territory – that specific factor being to delay the associated legislative issues with creating a new Commonwealth, assigning House seats to said Commonwealth, and adding Senators to the Senate. But at the same time, adding the treaty to such an important piece of legislation had created its own risks.
Expanding beyond the pre-nuclear borders, at least in the present situation, was still a matter of some controversy. It had happened previously, but ad hoc and largely into terra nullius, that being areas held by non-state entities, or as a result of USN anti-piracy actions. Annexing a full-blown country might well be seen as a step too far - it hadn't happened since 2075. The whole ALP would probably be against it for the time being – and while the National Federalists were generally supportive of the President’s agenda, it would only take one to vote against the bill for the filibuster to be viable as an option.
And such an important bill being filibustered would cause chaos both in the military and in Washington D. C.’s halls of power – chaos which the President intended to avoid by adding the Treaty to the MAA and sending him, both as a reminder to the Federalist Senators to vote in solidarity and as an additional vote to hedge against a potential filibuster. Autumn’s constitutional reforms had enabled, among other things, for the Vice President when acting as President of the Senate to vote at any session, not just when the body was tied. At those times, de facto, the Senate had 129 members.
He tensed a moment as he made his way to the oaken desk where he would be sitting – the President pro Tempore made way for him with a nod. He had to get this bill, with its full catalogue of amendments, through quickly with a minimum of public controversy.
==*==
Leopold ‘Leo’ Richardson, Vice President of the USA, walked into the Senate Chamber with measured steps, taking in the site of the rebuilt and redecorated meeting place of one of the two branches of the United States’ legislature. It never failed to fill him with a sense of reverence – the Grecian decorations, the gilded upper walls and blue-and-gold carpet, the friezed recesses in the lower walls where full-body oil-paintings of famous past members of the august body that met here were placed.
The full 128 Senators were in attendance on this, what would be the very last legislative meeting of 2331, to discuss the Military Appropriations Act 2332. Military funding had been at 10% of GDP in 2330, 15% the past year, and would be set to 20% for 2332. But such economic issues weren’t the reason he was here. A number of new amendments to the bill had been made just yesterday, one of which would for certain be controversial.
It was a rider consisting of the full text of the Treaty of Reynosa; signed by the US President and the President of the Republic of the Rio Grande, it annexed the latter to the former as a US Territory – that specific factor being to delay the associated legislative issues with creating a new Commonwealth, assigning House seats to said Commonwealth, and adding Senators to the Senate. But at the same time, adding the treaty to such an important piece of legislation had created its own risks.
Expanding beyond the pre-nuclear borders, at least in the present situation, was still a matter of some controversy. It had happened previously, but ad hoc and largely into terra nullius, that being areas held by non-state entities, or as a result of USN anti-piracy actions. Annexing a full-blown country might well be seen as a step too far - it hadn't happened since 2075. The whole ALP would probably be against it for the time being – and while the National Federalists were generally supportive of the President’s agenda, it would only take one to vote against the bill for the filibuster to be viable as an option.
And such an important bill being filibustered would cause chaos both in the military and in Washington D. C.’s halls of power – chaos which the President intended to avoid by adding the Treaty to the MAA and sending him, both as a reminder to the Federalist Senators to vote in solidarity and as an additional vote to hedge against a potential filibuster. Autumn’s constitutional reforms had enabled, among other things, for the Vice President when acting as President of the Senate to vote at any session, not just when the body was tied. At those times, de facto, the Senate had 129 members.
He tensed a moment as he made his way to the oaken desk where he would be sitting – the President pro Tempore made way for him with a nod. He had to get this bill, with its full catalogue of amendments, through quickly with a minimum of public controversy.
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