Debacle in the Desert

General Briefings Room 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Though the place's title may label this a briefing "room", it is actually more of a lecture hall or theatre. Rows upon rows of seats, each with a built-in computer terminal, are situated in tiered fashion to allow everyone a few of the front. Provided for purposes of instruction or briefing are a podium and an enormous holoscreen. Various signs gently remind attendees what exits are available in the event of an emergency. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Silvereye is seated at the rear of the briefing room with a few other flag level Demarian officers. They overlook the assembled soldiers while a Bloodclaw stands at the very front, a viewscreen of the Sand Mother desert his backdrop.

The Colonel of the 12th SFU isn't here today - but Major Holkeri, officer commanding of the ground forces, is, and he's accompanied by Sergeant Major Castus. They're both in their garrison clothes, fractal urban camoflauge uniforms, and make their way inside.

On Lucius's other side, following the Major inside is Ssergeant Azami. She too is in her uniform, the same as the other two. She spares a moment to eye the surrondings, but not much more than that.

The Bloodclaw watches the Vanguard filter in, nodding slowly towards them. "If you will take your seats we can begin. We've received new intelligence which makes our mission all that more urgent."

The officer and NCM do as they're told and take seats, nodding all around. Both of them pull out notepads - the officer uses his PDA while Lucius uses pen and paper, like the rock painter he is.

Leon enters shortly after the last of the Vanguard party, gauging the briefing room quickly before moving around to sit alongside the Sergeant Major with his PDA.

The display zooms up on the ruins of Alhira. The Bloodclaw gestures towards a surprisingly coherent stand of ruins. "Last night thermal imagery from Moonstalker Station confirmed movement in the ruins of Old Alhira." A cold blue overlay is transposed onto the map, litte heat blips standing out against the cold desert. They're moving in a chain away from the structures. "We believe that Redmask has moved his hostages from the old Windrider estate, here..." The map shifts towards the center of town, "The ruins of the Temple of Brakathira."

Scribble scribble. Tap tap. Thus go the sounds of note taking, the officer commanding of the company and his company sergeant major mostly looking at the display, glancing down occasionally to note things.

Melania is pretty much doing the same thing, the woman's stylus moving about on her datapad's touch screen. She takes more than a few good moments to study the overlay of the city, looking for best possible insertion and extraction points, amoung routes to and from where target location. Be a good idea to file that all away into memory.

Leon appears to be the only one not taking notes at the moment, he merely watches the briefing cooly.

"This both complicates and helps our situation." The Bloodclaw continues. "The Temple of Brakathira is in the center of the old city, and as you can see..." The map zooms out, showing dozens of thermal hotspots, "The enemy has made the old city his camp. But given the diffuse nature of his deployment it will be possible to insert a combat team into the city and strike at the Temple itself.

"It'll have to be more than one team, Battleclaw." Major Holkeri, chief of the ground forces company pipes up, lifting his shock blond covered head up. He focuses on the Demarian. "The possibility of engagement is too great for one. Sniper teams ringing the city. An AWACS system in the form of our Dasher II. A weapons detachment at about a kilometre's range for heavy support, should they need it. At least three teams."

Lucius nods in agreement.

Jot jot jot, goes Melania on her datapad. She seems to be in agreement with the Major's assesment. From the sound of three teams going to be implimented, she starts listing off possible drop points.

"We intend to have an atmospheric strike squadron on hand for close support if it becomes necessary." The Bloodclaw replies to the Major. "The city is simply too big for sniper teams, and you're forgetting an essential feature about the desert." The map zooms out and adds a topographical overlay. "It is absolutely flat."

Leon raises an eyebrow at the proceedings, still silent and observant.

"Camoflauge does wonders, Bloodclaw. Even in the desert. Regardless - if that's the case, we can always have them take up position in the city and do what they can." The Major adds, nodding at Silvereye. "My apologies for interrupting."

Melania isn't about to interrupt, even if theres a curious look on her face about a few points. She watches on to the proceedings, continuing to take down notes as they come to her.

"Speaking of camouflage we have provided some desert camo specifically designed for use in the Sand Mother. We are unfortunately not likely to be able to provide sniper support." The Bloodclaw replies. "The key to the operation as the Major points out is being unseen. We risk discovery if we are inserting sniper teams into the city. Redmask is mostly situated around the city's perimeter, making a single team moving in to the center ideal. It's simply too risky to move in multiple teams."

Leon still remains quiet as before.

"Seen." Lucius speaks finally, and his officer commanding falls silent. The Sergeant Major adds, "We'll have to keep reserve teams ready for quick insertion in case, then. And move in with one single team."

The Bloodclaw nods. "That goes without saying." He replies with a deferential nod towards his counterpart. "We know that this mission is extremely dangerous. At any time we are prepared to extract our team. At the moment this is what we've worked out." The map zooms away from Alhira. "An early afternoon insertion two kilometers from the city perimeter followed by a march into the city itself, moving up this main street here towards the Temple. There are ample opportunities in the ruins for cover, but given the dangerous nature of the mission any enemy contact has to be considered grounds to abort, with the discretion being with the field commanders."

Landing Pad  - New Alhira - Demaria - ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ A large area of ground has been flattened out and filled with thickly poured ferrocrete; yellow lines and blinking lights mark off landing pads, taxi lanes, and runways. A large building that serves as the small spaceport's terminal sits at the edge of the area, opposite the tall flight traffic control tower. Service crews stand by to help people through the decontamination corridor. To the west, far past the outskirts of the spaceport, lies the blunt Stubtooth Mountains. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

A bunch of Vanguard guys and Demmies go to the Franklin. They all move with purpose. Yay! Once aboard, the Franklin takes off hurridly and moves up into the atmosphere.

Rillitan raises an eyebrow at Aadzrian's tone, smirking lightly before nodding, "I don't mind you -" he turns and glances at the convoy of Vanguard and Demarian's and frowns, "Fucking cops." he murmurs.

The landing pad is teeming with activity. Demarian Militia crews under the watchful eyes of their Gearclaws are moving military hardware onto reserved runways. Notable among them are a squadron of Atmospheric Strike Fighters which taxi out to their runway, and then take off, momentarily halting civilian traffic.

Street  - Demaria - ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ In some places, one can make out patches of cobblestone beneath the deepening layer of desert sand that has swept in from the Sand Mother as she continues her ever-constant efforts to reclaim that which is duly hers. A hot wind whispers down the street, between the ruins of the old spaceport and the palace, past the remnants of the Temple Brakathira and the shattered hulk of the ancient arena. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The suns are about halfway through their descent into the horizon. The ruins of the once great Demarian metropolis are dead silent save for the occasional gust of hot wind that drags tiny grains of sand against worn walls, previewing the fate that awaits even the strongest stone foundations left for the desert. The team has arrived at the end of the long main street that cuts deep into the city. In the distance a black foundation rises above the sand, all the remains of the obsidian pillar of the Temple of Brakathira.

For the most part, the soldiers, when they have been communicating, have been doing it through whispers in comms. So now the mixed Demarian-Vanguard team has come to the end of the main street and taken cover behind one of the buildings. The Demarian soldier on point creeps forward, poking his head around the corner to try and observe enemy presence. It's a brief exposure. Lucius, second in line, has his backpack against the wall. He takes a sip from his camelbak's hose.

There are a few hundred yards between the team and the steps of the Temple of Brakathira. It's the height of the day, the time when most tribals are sleeping and upon cursory examination the city seems no different. No other Demarians are in evidence.

A quiet and low roadie run, Melania, with battle rifle griped firmly in-hand, moves over to Lucius's side with rest of the contingent. Swinging to put herself against the nearby wall, she puts her back to that of her CO, covering his blindside while he gets a drink.

The Demarian troop pops back behind cover, relaying the info to the Sergeant Major. Lucius says into his comm, "One-one Echo," which is the comm designation for the Equinox, "this is three-one Charlie. Keep eyes out for enemies in structures. Thermals. Out." Once done, he motions forward and says, "Flag drill." He taps his left side. "We move across the road one at a time. Our left sides are always facing the road, so we get coverage. Each covering man waits until he's relieved and moves into the last post. Go." As the Demarian moves across, Lucius drops into a crouch to cover down the main road.

"Alright three-one Charlie, take it as easy as you like, I'm getting a lot of interference on our thermal equipment and I'm just attempting to clear it up." comes a cold tone across the communication channels, evidently Leon's reply, they cut off for a moment before sparking up again, "Multiple readings in the temple, hm, I'm picking up big heat levels on the roads just in from you, I'm not sure what they are. Let me see if I can patch these through to your heads up display."

Melania gives a nod of acknowlegement, crouching down against the wall, while Lucius looks over the first solider to head out across the main drag. Waiting her turn to cover and then move herself, she keeps her eyes peeled out and around the structures surronding them. She holds up a hand to cover the earbud of her comm in her ear, listening to the dialouge. "Could be some kind of defense grid, one-one?" she utters into her own comm.

"Maybe." Lucius replies. As soon as the Demarian has taken up his own position covering on the other side of the street, the Vannie CSM calls up the next person to cover. Once that person, Lani on this one, gets there, Lucky will sprint across the street. Swinging her rifle scope forward, the woman keeps Lucius in her sights, giving as much cover as he needs. When he's across saftely, she gets the next person inline to watch over her. As Melania starts to cover the distance when its her turn, something shifts in her field of movement. But she doesn't halt in moving across to those already upfront, only comming in once she's taken up postion at the next section of wall to crouch down behind. "Three-one Charlie, I think I've got movement in my scope. Ten o'clock, between the two apartment buildings."

"Noted, three-three, those signatures extend alongside the road, electronics or mechanics of some kind. Tread lightly. That's as best as I can make it, Charlie," comes that cool tone once again, "The heat signatures in the temple appear to be at the same level, but I can't be sure. Keep that in mind."

Lucius doesn't grumble as he might in a more overt situation. He clicks his comm on and off once, indicating acknowledgement from both sources. Once across the street, he shifts over to a position of greater covers and lifts his battle rifle up to his eye level. He thumbs the fire selector to single shot, aiming at the target and zooming with his scope, in the hope of determining who or what it is.

Melania has still been watching that section where she located movement, herself having thumbed the selector on her own battle rifle to three round burst-fire. "Acknowleged, Echo." she comms back before grunting. "Sounds hopper mines to me." she utters lowly, keeping her eyes and ears alert.

Comm silence follows from the technician.

To the rear of the small group, a hulking barrel of a ruddy-furred felinoid garbed in ragged sun-bleached kevlar and breathable sand-camo checks over his assault rifle with a critical - not to mention cyclopean - eye.

"My sector's clear. Keep covering three sixty and keep moving." Lucius whispers into his comm, lifting his eye from the scope so he doesn't get tunnel vision. "Tracks from one building to another. Keep an eye on those appartment buildings. Guaranteed hostiles there."

"Clear here in this sector." Melania quirps from her position, shifting her weight to scan the area over with a bit more broad of a visual scan. "Look over any high open windows. Good chance theres more than ground traps here."

"Those are infantry tracks, three-one?" Leon asks, curiously.

"Affirmative." Answers Lucius. "Cross the road, three-three. I'll cover and so will the one behind you. Get a move on it."

"Roger, three-one." Melania nods, picking herself up, crouching at the very edge of the cover. A quick peek out, then throwing herself outward and forward at an angle to allow Lucius to keep her back covered, running at a low run. Muted booted footfalls against small mounds of sand does some help to mask the sound of her running to next large peice of shelter. Once arriving, she puts her sights back up, assisting with giving cover of her own when the next person crosses over.

The big Demarian takes a different tack. He does lift a big, meaty forepaw and squint, scanning the horizon with those golden eyes of his - but additionally, the single ear not folded beneath his headscarf swivels to drink in sounds, and his rust-brown nose wiggles to sample the scents. He looks to the small squad of Demarian marines behind him, flicking a claw and lashing his tail. The order is understood. They flank and follow the Vangard troops in support positions.

It's not long after Melania has crossed over the street that the blast from a primitive horn issues forth from the gaping maw of the Temple of Brakathira. The horn blast echoes throughout the silent city, touching every corner. It is soon answered by an impossible to guess number of warcries, ranging from the throaty calls of veterans to the more earnest but lacking efforts of young Demarians.

Some of these calls are very, very close, others distant.

The war cries certainly rouse alert among the troops. They're being watched - obviously, and this shows as their tactics shift somewhat. Instead of one moving at a time, it's two moving, two covering now. Up in short bounds, they keep a good five metres minimum in between fireteams. Their ultimate objective is obviously the temple itself. Coming to a stop, Lucius motions at the apartment buildings which overlook the Temple - that's the marine obvjective, in support of the Vannies who will do the breach itself. "Stay frosty, people. They're very very close. Expect a three sixty attack, and don't keep too far from eachother. One one echo, a sitrep would be nice. We might need to call in some close air, as well. Keep you in the loop." Lucius bounds up to the side of another building, a Corporal at his side, motioning for Melania and her partner to move up. "Two-one," He addresses the big Demarian Marine, "Stay back and cover our full advance until we get to within fifty metres. We'll do the same at that point." Initially, the Demarian - whose armband identifies him as a Dokcha - ducks his furry head, ears flattening and teeth baring at the deafening sound. Though ringing colors his hearing, he is still able to interpret and acknowledge Lucius's command, clipping off a quick salute and relaying the order to his men. His assault rifle is held at the ready, and at his back, his long, slender tail lashes in hungry anticipation.

"Gotcha, three-one." Melania reports back, signaling the Corporal with her to move foward, paraell to Lucius, onward to next set of apartments closest to the Temple. She and her partner move back to back, covering each other's flanks. Her thumb moves over her safety on her rifle, making sure that its indeed off.

"Roger, three-one, we have movement... well, /everywhere/. Heads up, we have movement central down the road and moving in from the west, too." comes a sharp reply from Leon, "We're prepped for the air, Charlie."

"One one echo this is Charlie Four-One." A Demarian voice comes over the comms, representing the distant weapons team. "We are under attack, repeat we are under attack by armed tribals. We are unable to provide support at this time, over."

The message from the weapons team is accompanied by movement all around the team. On the road behind them Demarians in sandy robes pour onto the streets, some armed only with spears but most armed with rifles. Movement in the alleyways between the buildings is now apparent as the tribals get into position. At the Temple of Brakathira half a dozen tribal warriors take up position as they come out of its depths, rifles aimed down at the encroaching soldiers. One final figure emerges behind them. Even at a distance the blood red fur on his face is apparent, as is the bumbler horn in his hand.

"Solid copy. No fire missions until contact is confirmed." Lucius looks in the direction of the west, sipping briefly from his camelbak straw as he waits for the previous bound to move up. His fingers lift up to his eyes and he motions to the west, mainly directed to Melania's companion. For Melania's sake, he motions straight forward. "Cover west and down street, two-one. And watch your backs." He comms to the Demarians, then is moving forward when... he stops at the sight of the emerging tribals. "Fuck!" He exclaims to himself. He doesn't reply to the weapons detachment - hopefully their heavy weaponry can defend themselves, even if they can't provide cover. "One-one, fire mission requested, danger close. No grid reference, fire on tribals in the open. Do not come within fifty metres of us, and do not fire on the temple. Two-one, let 'er rip on the temple." He darts behind a big pile of rubble, formerly a low rising building and lifts his rifle up to take a double tap at one of the temple targets.

"Shit!" Melania swears as many possible exits become a bit more crowed than they previously were. "Hard cover!" she growls, pulling herself and the Corporal with down and behind a plascrete road barrier nearby the apartment complex they were headed before being ambushed, a myrid of bullets flying by just moments after taking shelter. Bits of stone and fleks of concrete rain past her before setting up into a shooting position, returning fire. No, shouldn't have to tell her partner to return fire at this point.

The Dokcha is issuing his own orders, bellowing a gritty rasp of a baritone in tandem with abbreviated Flick cues. His men fan and file out, lithe and agile in the way only Demarians can be, gracefully darting behind whatever cover places a wall at their backs. A few try their hands at springing onto balconies by way of a pony-up-and-grab system, aiming for a slight aerial advantage where air strikes and numbers may fail.

"Acknowledged three-one, sending the birds out now." Leon replies, sounding somewhat pressed (possibly even stressed) over the comms.

Lucius' shots are answered by a full volley from the six Demarians hiding behind the crumbled obsidian. The entire street seems to light up with gunfire as the tribals pour fire onto the allied position.

"Iuppiter optimus maximus!" Lucius exclaims at the return fire, hunkering down behind his cover. He reaches into a pocket on his vest and grabs a smoke grenade. After waiting for some of their fire to die down, he chucks it as far as it can go, towards the Temple. Everyone has been given one experience point! Confetti points brought to you by: Dice! MacNamara (Mack) pages: Not physically no, but presumably I am ICly in a fighter of some sort

Burst after burst of three round claps ring out from the fire of Melania's battle rifle, then ducking back into cover to await the return fire. This process is continued until she faintly hears the clatter of metal smoke canister.

Not long after Leon sends his message, three extra stars appear in the sky.

"This is Heater one-one to ground units." It's Mack's voice. "We'll be in position in ... 30 seconds. Requesting targets."

"Heater one-one this is Echo, run north-west of the marker... Keep your eyes on those IR transponders guys, keep your fire at least 50 meters away from the friendlies. I've uploaded our latest heat traces, they have cluster points, you are advised to target visually if you can." the comms call to those in the ships.

Dokcha Sunrider peeks his head up long enough to spit a fiery burst at his nearest target. He's positioned himself in a low drainage gutter which angles gradually downward into a rusty sewer grate, with a pair of marines at either side. Others in his unit punch out more angry, bloodletting fireflies, with one of the balcony's comandeers vying for even higher position by means of a ladder.

He is shot. The sound his head makes when it hits the pavement is not unlike a melon splitting.

As the curtains of smoke billow up into the clear desert sky a group of Demarians decides to use the cover both ways and rush to reinforce the Temple. The tribals are starting to encroach on the allied position, using their superior numbers to slowly advance.

"Sergeant Major." Only the Battleclaw could disrespect call signs. "Your position is looking rather untenuous from here."

Almost as soon as the Battleclaw stops speaking a shiny metallic thing gets lobbed towards the marine position. The grenade bounces once in their perimeter.

"Heater one, fuck it - Danger close, danger close. I say again, just don't drop anything on us - get the hostiles out of here." Lucius says, grimly. "Two-one, keep your men from jumping into enemy fire like that! Cover our rear while we move." He growls into his comms. Then, he prepares for a bound, letting off a burst to the enemy at his rear. The smoke's already up but... it doesn't matter. The ding of the grenade attracts his attention. "COVER! GRENADE!" Instead of bounding, he darts to the corner of the nearest building, jumping onto his belly.

Melania blinks, seeing the explosive tossed their way, just as she beginning to take aim through the misty foggy area up front. "GRENADE!" she exclaims, dropping down behing the thick plascrete barrier, practially laying flat on stomach the moments before the device goes off. She takes a split moment to make sure her partner has done the same. "The hell is that air cover?!" she spits into her comm.

"Heater one, acknowledged." The roar of fixed-wing starfighter engines joins the din of battle as those stars become blurs in the moonlight. "Echo, Heater one-one. We've got visual via FLIR. Rolling in, weapons hot." Another pause; high above -- getting lower -- the fighter formation is prepared to strafe.

Inside the cockpit of Heater One, the oxygen mask over Mack's face battles to make him more a robot and the sweat on his forehead keeps him human. The display in front of him shows shapes in black and white: a knot of Demarians working to flank Lucius and the Vanguard formation. He paints the Demarians at Lucius' rear with his targeting gear. "Gun volley."

That roar becomes deafening, and is joined by the hiss of pulse blasts and molten lead, a fatal rain upon the tribals below.

"Heater one, acknowledged." The roar of fixed-wing starfighter engines joins the din of battle as those stars become three gleaming streaks of metal in the sunlight.

"Echo, Heater one. We've got visual. Rolling in, weapons hot." Another pause; high above -- getting lower -- the fighter formation is prepared to strafe.

Inside the cockpit of Heater One, the oxygen mask over Mack's face battles to make him more a robot and the sweat on his forehead keeps him human. The display in front of him draws neat red diamonds on a video monitor that mimics the scene played out, as if by ants, below his cockpit canopy: a knot of Demarians working to flank Lucius and the Vanguard formation. He paints the Demarians at Lucius' rear with his targeting gear. "Gun volley," he tells his cohorts.

That roar becomes deafening, and is joined by the hiss of pulse blasts and molten lead, a fatal rain upon the tribals below.

The grenade goes off with a ratting concussion, silencing the allied line. That might have been the end of them if not for the fighter attack which sends tribals scrambling for cover after a number of them are vaporized by Vanguard guns.

"Sergeant Major." The Battleclaw's voice comes over the comm. "I'm pulling the plug. Get your people out of there. One-One Echo en route for extraction."

"Battleclaw," Lucius calls back over the comms, popping out to fire a burst into the smoke cloud, in the general direction of the temple. "They'll execute your people if you don't let us complete. We keep up the fire support, we can do this. How many on the ground, over?" Again he pops out, this time to rattle off some controlled automatic bursts - surpressive fire.

It is not the Sergeant Major that the Dokcha and his team take their orders from. He presses a big claw to his commset, muting it as the grenade impacts; he himself has hunkered down. /"Fall back!/" he belts out as soon as reality reacquaints itself, opening his line again. He does not argue with Silvereye's wishes - he complies, covering his men with aimless, suppressive fire as they fade back. The Vanguard is losing the Demarian marines.

"There won't -be- a next time if we fall back now!" Melania grunts in her comm, obviously not partically fond of the idea of pulling out after the ringing in her ears fades after the concussion of the grenade goes. "Three-one!" she calls, dropping an empty, smoothly slapping a fresh on in. "Awaiting orders!" Nox Azami is ready to keep fighting if need be, and more than happy to by the sounds of the Sergeant continuing to return fire from where she is.

Above, Heater flight pulls up into the sky again after their run, one after the other. "Ground units, be advised, your flank is not completely pacified." Mack's voice is strangely calm. "Retreat looks like a costly option from here." There's a grunt. "Echo, Heater one. Landing options appear limited. Please advise." There's a pause, then another grunt as a tight turn brings Mack's reticle over the tribals facing Lucius this time. "Ground units, Heater one. Coming in again on the other side." He addresses the two ships behind him now: "Gun volley." Emotionless, the cyborg in the flying machine releases fiery death once again.

The tribals are taking up more secure positions after the impressive show of air power. Their firing is more sporadic but still designed to keep the allied forces pinned down. The smoke is beginning to clear, revealing a more entrenched position atop the smashed foundation of the Temple of Brakathira as more tribals have joined the original six plus Redmask.

"They are entrenching the Temple." Silvereye replies to Lucius. "And there's a lot more on the ground than you are. We may be able to suppress their fire but assaulting that Temple is going to be a tall order. You've got one shot at it, Sergeant Major. We are prepared to cut you an exit path to the arena."

"Fuck, your troops just pulled out, One." Lucius calls back out. "Cover us, we're moving out. If we can't get a support team then we can't do this. Heater, clear paths for One-One-Echo to drop down in." He doesn't look happy about this. However, he sticks his rifle out of cover around the corner, steadying it and thumbing to single shot. He looks through the scope, hoping to aquire the tribal leader. He takes aim and his index finger does the rest, lightly pressing on the trigger until the sound of a 6.5mm bullet exiting the rifle cracks through the air, joining its brethren.

Taking the hint that Lucius is still determined to fine, so will Melania. The leader isn't hard to pick out with horn adorning his head, and she makes that his target. Setting her firing rate at one, she moves to take aim and assist the Sergeant Major in taking its leader down.

"Ground team, Heater one. Requesting permission to arm explosive ordinance to clear your way to the LZ." Mack is impassive, he and his two colleagues in the air make another sharp turn. Apparently not wanting to sit idle before permission is given, they come down almost dangerously low to make another pass against the tribals still attempting to reach the temple, but not quite there.

Lucius' shot flies true, and it strikes Redmask right at the crown of his head. There's a spray of blood and the tribals’ iconic leader goes down. Even as his people are being cut down by the Vanguard's air support a cry of outrage goes up from the fighters once their leader is no longer visible. Rather than cowing them the tribals leap from their positions, howling in rage as they charge the allied position.

Silvereye, at Lucius words, actually seems incensed. "Dokcha! You will hold your position and support allied troops!"

"They're chargin! Mow 'em down! Weapons free, Heater, engage as you see fit!" Lucius hunkers down and switches his fire to bursts. If the Demmies are going to charge, he's going to shoot at them with automatic weapons. The team's para LMG gunner darts out next to Lani and sets up the weapon over the plascrete. He too, begins controlled automatic bursts, having only used his weapon sparingly until now. Hundreds of bullets spray downrange in every direction that the tribals are coming from. "Four-one, sitrep!" Demands Lucius as he pokes behind cover to change magazines.

It seems like the Dokcha really had no choice. As he and the others push back, they find themselves greeted with a line of tribals on the horizon. Swearing vehemently, he acknowledges Silvereye's command, then swivels his snout to squint back in the direction he came. The Demarians - the /good/ Demarians - spill back into the thick of the conflict, again striving for elevated positions when they can. They're ducking behind pillars, wedging with uncanny catlike ease into narrow spaces, bounding onto rooftops. Snipers take position, picking off careful, calculated targets, while the ground grunts pummel off automatic rounds into anything that's furry and wearing a robe.

"Give that man plenty of cover!" Melania order the Corporal with her, setting herself up on the other side of the LMG gunner. She twoo switches back over to automatic fire, taking in part in attempting to mow down the incoming assult. "They don't get withing forty yards of us, you got that, men?!" she yells over the dim of fire, continuing to set down burst fire.

Heater flight splits three ways to rapidly break, re-forming behind Lucius' ground line. "Ground, heater, acknowledged." Words are hard to get out when you're pulling high-G turns and trying to line up a targeting reticle at the same time. "All ground units be advised. Everything clear of your line and the temple goes away." The distance-to-target indicator next to the reticle changes from yellow to green when the flight returns to weapons range, and, in a flurry of smoke and white-hot light, the fixed-wing fighters fill the box 50 meters out from the temple and 50 meters out from the allied line -- the box full of charging tribal fighters -- with explosive rockets, seizing on the hostiles as they scramble over open ground.

What follows is akin to slaughter. The sheer courage of the tribals cannot overcome the allied weapons. Many fall in the first volley but they keep their heads, a few offering return fire while those in the rear lob grenades towards the Vanguard line. The charge evaporates, those fortunate enough to survive ducking for new cover. The street is littered with Demarian corpses while the Temple of Brakathira remains firmly entrenched, Redmask's more elite soldiers holding their ground while offering supporting fire for their brethren, catching the allied forces as they move forward to oppose the charge.

One grenade lands among the Demarians, another near the Vanguard LMG.

"Watch that fucking grenade Nox!" Lucius yells, instead of comming, towards Lani's position. Again, he's out of ammo, and he pumps back behind the cover to both avoid shrapnel and change magazines again. He says to himself, "Thank the Gods these rifles don't overheat."

"Ground, Heater one. Your heavies are still stuck outside of town." Mack's voice sounds more human as his fighter, contrails streaming behind it, drifts upward in the sky and makes a crisp, banking left-hand turn, leading the formation into a high holding pattern as the tribals below become no longer exposed. "I reckon if we unstick them, you might have an easier time of it down there. We've got fuel and munitions to re-join either engagement. Put us where you want us." "Do it, Heater." Lucius adds on the comms as he slides a fresh magazine into his bullpup battle rifle.

Tink tink tink. Melania sees that grenade incoming, and all she can do is inhale, belting out; "MOVE!!", letting her rifle hang at her side while shoving the LMG gunner and Corporal with all her strength away from the explosive, using herself as a possible sheild for them if it comes to that. With the last few seconds left to her before it goes off, she kicks it in the opposite direction, away from her men. Yes, she does leave herself, but protecting her men, to her, comes first.

Demarian soldiers in the grenade's blast zone yowl alerts in both Terran and their own purring tongue, then haul tail. They duck into alleys and dive behind walls, and do not move until the projectiles discharge.

The grenades go off almost simultaneously, spraying shrapnel in all directions and sending the LMG soaring into the air. Several Vanguard and Demarians are peppered with bits of shrapnel, though no fatalities or heavy injuries result. More deadly is the sniper fire coming from the Temple foundation. Tribal shots start to take their toll on the exposed Vanguard, inflicting a few casualties and forcing their line back. One takes aim at the exposed Melania and fires off a burst of rounds.

"Now would be a good time to get moving towards the arena, Three-one Charlie. I have fighters coming in to clear your way." Silvereye comes in over the comm. Up on the Temple foundation a figure reappears. Half of his face is caked in blood and his ear hangs at a severe angle, but Redmask is visible once again.

Heater flight re-engages, this time against the tribals pinning down the heavy support weapons on the edge of town. Though the sounds are distant to the battle Lucius, Melania and the Demarians are engaged in, the series of staccato pops and vibrations through the earth suggests munitions are being vigorously applied to the enemy.

"Command, this is Heater one. We are engaged." On the outskirts of town, Mack's fighter and the two others re-appear, angling for the sky and then in a tight loop to make another run.

The cyborg, inside his cockpit, casts a worried look over his shoulder as he pulls up. The pings and pops of small-arms fire hitting the armor along his vessel's hull echo in his ears. He takes a deep breath as his targeting reticle begins to show hostiles, and the range indicator ticks down.

"Alright, we're going around through the alleys. Main street's a kill house. C'mon!" Lucius doesn't bother shooting anymore, but pops off another smoke in front of the exposed Vanguard position. "All Charlie callsigns, follow Three-one charlie once that smoke screen is up." This time, Lucius is going to lead the team in. He slaps the bolt catch, which sends the bolt forward and feeds a bullet into the chamber of his freshly loaded weapon.

The Gods must be watching over Melania at that percise moment. That sniper bullet sears past the woman's face, taking off part of the woman's right ear with it as it zings past. Theres a scream of pain as she momentarily takes cover, clutchng her gloved hand to the side of her head, pulling back to see it then return in mask of crimson. Cursing loudly through gritted teeth, she manages to rejoin with her two compatriates. "You heard the man! Get going!" she barks, exchanging clips before pulling herself back up to her feet. With blood running down the side of the Martian's face, she prepares for their own charge.

Redmask's forehead suddenly bears a telltale red dot.

But only for a moment. It's not a bad shot at all, especially given the confusion, but alas - the window of opportunity presented to the Demmie sniper occupying a position on the roof of a ruined apartment complex closes just as soon as it opens.

Not so for those around the tribal leader. Having advertised his presence, the sniper now finds himself catching bullets in shoulder, chest, and ear. A feral, leonine hiss, colored with a growl of pain, escapes his throat as he half-drops, half-collapses, behind the lip of the roof.

As it becomes apparent that the Vanguard and Demarian Militia are preparing to withdraw some of the Demarians atop the Temple of Brakathira start to rise as if to pursue. They are waved back into their positions by Redmask, who doesn't even flinch as another round comes close to ending his life. "Let them go." He says in his curious tribal dialect. He brings the bumbler horn to his lips again and breathes two quick bursts. The tribals in the path of the Vanguard and Demarian Militia vacate their positions in the alleyways, retreating to hard cover positions to snipe at them as they retreat.

"This is Battleclaw Paintedheart. Four One confirms that the tribals are withdrawing and are now prepared to offer support fire. We leave no one behind. Heater One, cover their retreat."

"This is Battleclaw Paintedheart. Four One confirms that the tribals are withdrawing and are now prepared to offer support fire. Heater One, I'm handing you back over to One-One Charlie."

As the smoke pops up, Lucius catches the sound, but not the sight of Lani's wound. "That's right, Sergeant, keep the pressure on." Whether he's talking about on the wound or generally is not really determinable. Into his comms he says, "Heater, sweep any remaining tribals around us. Leave the Temple for the HMGs. Four-one, I want you to hit them on top of the Temple as much as they can. Mortars and SRAWs to assist other troops on the ground. Two-one, what's your status?" He turns around to his troops now that they're safely in the alley. "Sitrep. How many of you are wounded?"

"Heater one acknowledged," Mack says curtly, and his flying triangle of death moves towards Lucius again. "Three-one Charlie, Heater. We have munitions available and fuel to remain in theatre about ... 15 minutes." Heater flight rolls in and begins to open up again with gun volleys.

Acknowledging the command given, the Demarian Militia fades back with the Vanguard, taking special attention to cover and assist any wounded. The dead, however, are left to rest where they lie.

"Still frosty, Sarge." Melania grunts when she and her men meets up with Lucius. "We're still alive." she adds, tossing a grimaced grin to the two with her. "We moving in or around? Its getting might hairy in here."

Thump. That's the sound of a mortar round shattering the ancient steps of the Temple of Brakathira. Redmask waves towards his compatriots, disappearing within the fortified depths of the Temple before another mortar round strikes its foundation. The tribals are completely off the streets as the Vanguard and Demaria Militia bring their true technological superiority to bear.

The teams, however, are badly battered by the prolonged firefight. The Demarians have suffered the worse but there are Vanguard among the dead, and others wounded. Long distance to Danger: Silvereye shrugs. He might, but Silver knows this wasn't a cockup because of him. But bringin' the dead home might help.

Lucius grits his teeth at the very pessimistic sitrep. He shakes his head at Lani, then makes the call. "One, this is Three-one charlie. Looks like we're going to have to wrap. Too many casualties, we're not combat effective enough to take that building. Battleclaw, it's up to you whether you want to bring the Temple down on their heads, but we need to extract." The Vannies who have smoke pop it around an area outside of the alleyway, making a good ring for the evacuation ships to land in. He turns to the Demarian officer near him. "You need to take your dead. The Tribals will fuck with them. It'll look like shit." His frown deepens. "Keep that fire support up as we extract, Four one." A few moments later and the smokescreen is up. The soldiers move out to collect their dead and wounded, wait for extraction.

MacNamara's fighter and its companions shriek by overhead, vigilantly watching the retreat. Long distance to Danger: Silvereye hmms. These blasts are too precise for sand people.

"Damnit. They're going to slaughter the hostages once we extract, Sarge." Lani mutters under her breathe, sounding as if she doesn't like the sound of withdrawing, while understanding they don't have much a choice at this point.

"I won't be the one to kill those hostages, even if taking Redmask with them makes it attractive." Silvereye replies over the comm to Lucius. "Get your wounded ready, we're coming in." Indeed, the large form of the Equinox can be see approaching the extraction point. Other Demarian ships head towards the heavy weapons team while others flank the Vanguard ship. Everyone gets out on the first ride.

The message is relayed. Those toward the middle of the retreating pack grab the few corpses that they can while still evading incoming fire. Those toward the rear fight to keep the tribals' heads down with a flurry of pulse and projectile fire.

"If they would have listened to the Major, we would have had four times the men on the ground. Two platoons could have swept this town. Two teams? Fucking forget it. Our intel was shit, but that's no one's fault. These Tribals move with no one seeing them." Lucius takes a knee to help his fire team partner, a Corporal who's sustained some shrapnel wounds and a nice pulse blast in his left arm. He lays his rifle on the ground to patch a dressing on the arm, tying a bandage quickly around that. Then the rifle is slung, and he gets up. The wounded who can't walk are in fireman carry. Everyone who can walk is carrying a comrade, or a fallen soldier, cleaning up the corpses. The Vanguard hadn't really strayed too far from their original position or climbed up walls, and were easy to find. That said, Team 3 of the 12th SFU loads up into the Equinox, wounded first, then moves back to assist their Demarian comrades.

"Wounded on the ship first!" Melania calls out to the fire teams, helping a Private with a plasma burn to the shoulder up to his feet with an outstretched hand. "On your feet, solider. Time to go." she fainly smiles. She'll continue to help the wounded and dead onto the ship till she's one of the last to get onboard.

"Squad leaders check in." Silvereye says soberly over the comms as everyone loads up. "We are prepared to depart. And I promise you we're going to find whoever set us up and we're going to make them pay for this."

Demarian and Vanguard alike assist in the quick transporting of the wounded, with the Dokcha and many of his squad holding position to stave off enemy fire and prevent more casualties.

Lucius lifts his hand to his ear as the ship lifts up. "Almost there, Battleclaw. Four Vanguard wounded, two dead. Six Demarians wounded, four dead. I'd like a confirmation of enemy dead if possible, sir. At least we could know how many they took. I'd also reccomend that you keep air support around this area for the next few weeks and wax anyone going outside." Lucius takes a knee at the entrance hatch of the Equinox. "Dokcha, fall into the ship." He raises his rifle and fires off a few bursts at the Temple, as the ground around it is pounded by heavy machine gun fire from the weapons detachment.

Caked with dried blood and sand where her ear used to be, Lania stands to the side in the open airlock of the Equinox, waiting for the Dokcha and Sergeant Major to fully enter onboard, doing a last minute check of the battleground to make sure that no one was missed, also keeping her rifle pointed outwards in case somebody should try and take a pot-shot at her commander. "Sarge, we should blow this joint."

"I can already tell you, Sergeant Major, you took a hell of lot more of them to the Hells." Indeed, as the ship lifts off the extent of the carnage becomes visible, the main thoroughfare of old Alhira littered with bodies. "As for air support...We'll be keeping an eye on the place until the next sandstorm rolls in." And there, on the horizon as the twin suns are just setting, is an angry line of roiling sand just waiting to break over the battlefield.

Dokcha Sunrider sends a look back at Lucius at the order, gauging the situation around the Equinox before he complies. Then, winding backward at a hurried pace, the last of the Demarian Militia makes ready to depart.

As the last soldiers load onto the ship, Lucius sighs, pulling in and slinging his rifle. The hatch closes and the ship lifts off, and he surveys the death outside the window. "Fuck. Not our place to decide, Nox." He sits back down, removing his helmet and drinking some water as medical staff come to treat the wounded and cover the dead.

The heavy weapons fire, mortars, machine guns and rockets soon ceases too, and the Equinox is joined by a larger ship.

"Yeah, I know. And not without getting the hostages out. But something dropped the ball, and I doubt it was the DM. We could've been royally screwed out there." Melania replies, wincing as she takes off her own helmet, the part of which that was blown off along with her ear." She takes a moment to look out the window, pensive. She'll wait till the medics get through the more severely injured. She won't die from a missing ear.