Draconis was pulling out his canteen to get a sip as he studied the array before him. The scout teams were sweeping across the vast area and while this was the most efficient way to cover the ground surrounding the base, it wasn't the best. Draconis had known that they would be sacrificing the better coverage of the air for the increased manpower that would be available by diverting the majority of their pilots with transport duties. And with their current losses, it didn't matter what you flew anymore. If you were qualified to fly, you flew what was available, which they had a lot more ships than bodies to fill them right now. A small wave of static would come across the holodeck for their tactical display. The environment had been more than unkind to their intrusion here, which had let small glitches harass various tech across the deployment. But it was something the SLDF and Draconis were used to. They had just finished rebuilding their home worlds when they'd committed to the first exodus, and now their countrymen would follow in their foot steps. Living in austere environments, building cities and homes from nothing, none of this was new to the men and women of Surric. So the rest of the Confederacy's people would look to her for guidance, for support, and most of all for hope. Draconis couldn't let anything stop them. Which was why when he heard the commlinks crackle to life in the command center, he stopped mid drink and stared at the deck like a man possessed.
"This is Scout Team Two, we're under attack north of the LZ. I repea-"
Draconis would hear the repeat from his comms officer, confirming what he just heard, and the wave of red diamonds start to cross the map. The scouts were about to be encircled, cut off, and overrun. Draconis knew that without support those men would die. Which was why he didn't hesitate to issue his orders.
"Sound the alarm, I want all pilots to RTB immediately regardless of status, I want all combat frames up in ten minutes, infantry in five. Get ground crews to start up close air support craft now and get follow on afterwards. Direct all support assets to that scout team, priority one, we have a duty people. See it done,"
Alarm klaxons would begin to blare as Draconis would reach over to the rack where he'd stowed his own gear, alongside that of every officer and enlisted man here. Each station would see one or two men rise to join him. They'd been wearing their undersuits as a duty uniform, their dress uniforms not suited for such environments, but their combat armors and helmets were stationed here. Draconis would begin putting on his armor as he yelled at the comms officer still manning the station.
"I DON'T CARE WHO MAKES IT HERE FIRST BUT I WANT A BRIEF FINISHED AND BIRD SPUN UP IN THREE MINUTES!"
"Aye sir!"
Draconis would then don his helmet for his suit, the seals clicking in place with a sharp hiss as he reached over and grabbed his rifle. He may have been the commander in chief of the SLDF, but he was still at heart an infantryman. His place was in the field with his men. He pulled back on the charging handle slightly to check the chamber, loaded as he'd left it. After that he'd check the safety before stowing the weapon on his back and grabbing spare magazines, a couple grenades, and his service pistol. It would take minutes for the headquarters to do their swap and get all personnel in combat gear, but down below the quick reaction forces on rotation were already done. Members of the 272 Rangers were already mustering outside and grabbing extra ammo and explosives. They never knew how long they were going out, but today promised a lot of fighting.
Across the base alarms would ring out, and on duty soldiers would direct non-combatant civilians to predetermined shelters that Draconis and John had set up first, ensuring that such a scenario was accounted for. All others were directed to the various armories or in the case of pilots and crews, hopping on speeders to get back to FOB Last Chance. At the strip the skeleton crews were going from bird to bird, getting preflight checklists done as they were able and spooling up engines on the craft to decrease time to takeoff, meanwhile their pilots would hit the tarmac running to various hangars. They quickly donned their gear, some not bothering to tie boots, put on gloves, or their helmets as they then ran to the craft awaiting them. They were already behind, and any second they wasted was a potential life forfeit. And none of them would allow such a mistake again. They would finish donning their gear in their cockpits, alongside finishing pre-flights and taxiing to the runway to begin mustering for takeoff. The first out were a pair of
AT-3 gunships, followed by a few
AT-1 Raptors. In hangars on the other side of the FOB, walkers would spun up as well, alarm klaxons blaring as a computer generated voice repeated a message over and over, stating the scouting parties were under attack and the base was to expect a full assault. Walkers would hum to life as their crews did their cold start procedures and prepared the largest beasts of land warfare ever utilized by the SLDF if not the entire Confederacy. Across the base, a hum of activity could be observed as the Hobbesian Leviathan awoke from its slumber. It would take barely minutes for pilots from the first flight to get within contact range of
Abel Denko
, sending direct comms messages to him as they prepared to give close air support.
"Scout team two, Gunfighter 1-1, on station and ready for fire missions, give us vectors and targets, over,"
Gunfighter flight would circle above as they spied the battlefield below, prepared to strike with the hammer blows of a vengeful god, smiting all who dared draw its ire. Meanwhile Draconis would run to the nearest Raptor dropship as the Rangers prepared to board, their Lieutenant counting them aboard as he got his head count.
"Lieutenant! Got room for one more!?"
"Always room on the elevator to hell sir!"
"Good man!"
Draconis would step aboard behind the last man of the chalk, similar chalks loading up in other 'ships as they sat down and just barely got their restraints on when the pilots took off. At the scout team's position, they would see that the enemy was getting ready to envelope them, but they would find that they weren't alone. Nearby patrols were diverted to them, encountering resistance but determined to fight their way through, hover craft having to dismount their infantry support to fight in defensive positions while skirmisher and scout walkers tore into the enemy. The SLDF may have been battered by her last major loss, but she was not broken. These men and women would give the enemy raiders a fight like they'd never seen. They had to break through the encirclement and get through to the scout team. Meanwhile forward controllers tried to give the best views they could, mustering up what support they could as the FOB got its assets online. For now, they had light and medium walkers, air support, and the weapons they carried. They would need to hold out for six minutes before they could get artillery, and another five after that before heavier walkers and tanks could roll out to support them. Draconis and incoming Rangers would be the first and only infantry support they got for the next five minutes, and he was going to plunge them as close as possible to the objective. They would not lose another for lack of vigilance nor a failure of one's duties. They would not surrender a single soul to this enemy without a fight that would seem to echo the power of death itself. The scout team would see that they were not alone in the explosions of cannon and blaster fire around them as the SLDF moved to break through to them. Help was on the way.
They just had to
survive.
