WOOOO. Another update within what 5 Months? Madness! I've actually planned out what I'm going to do now in terms of plot, so, hopefully the chapters will be done quicker.
I forgot to do the reviews last chapter, my apologies, so let's do both chapter 2+3 reviews now.
MrWolfdog: Well, I think I just avoided the questions and destroyed the tension.
and Chiki briki, Thanks, I will.
Empty Promise: While CSAT would probably miss the support, I'd think they'd fight a guerrilla war with NATO, and the allies for that matter.
KodokSangar: I'm part of the latter to mate, I'm planning for Shirley to talk about to our pilot this chapter. As for CTRG, yeah, they're arseholes, well at least group 14 (Miller's team). I'm planning for a few chapters for Kerry and Miller down the road. As for the other East Wind devices and well, it's a lot easier (probably not cheaper though) to just make an entire island/Military installation disappear than to try and take it out via conventional means (runways and deep bunkers are hard to take out, even with modern bombs and missiles).
As for a list of factions:
BLUFOR:
NATO
ALLIES
FIA (Now the Altis government)
INDEPENDENT: (independent in the sense they're not allied with anyone.)
ION
NEUROI
OPFOR:
CSAT
Remains of the old AAF
SmokeTinyTom: Thanks, my man.
Demon-255: I wouldn't say potential, but thanks, I do agree that more Arma fanfics would be nice, its a good basis for a story.
As a Note i should say I'm stunned by the amount of follows let alone favourites, thanks, really.
I don't own shit.
XXX
30 Miles off the coast of Altis, USS Freedom, 0450 hours, 2035 / 08 / 17.
Deep in the bowels of the USS Freedom I face off with my ancient foe, it is not the Chinese, the Russians, nor the North Koreans, not even those fucking aliens.
IT IS THAT FUCKING CLOCK.
With a swift grab and throw, I lob the clock at the wall.
And with the sweet sound of the clock disassembling itself against the wall, like 20mm rounds hitting a tank's hull, I try and get some more sleep.
After 10 minutes I give up go to the mess for some food, its 0500 odd – dark hundred hours, who sets an alarm clock for that time? Fuck you, Dylan, it does not boot anymore.
Luckily for me, the Wardroom is relativity deserted and I grab a tray of the shit that the navy calls food. While Marine food is usually worse than squid, for us Marine Aviators it is usually better, much like the chair force, 5-star hotels and fresh coffee and beer, my kinda way to fight a war.
The week has been weird, to put it lightly.
It'd started off with a meeting between Allied High Command, most of which was classified and above my paygrade, 'bout 2 days after the meeting, the first Liberty ships made its way into both Pyrgos and the much larger Kavala harbours, bringing food and medical aid to both our NATO forces and the Civilian populace.
NATO had not been Idle either, most of the past week had been spent reinforcing the island's defences, arming, and training the brand new AAF, well Altis Defence Force, the FIA had reorganised into an actual functioning(kinda) government. We'd even showed a few Allied researchers around the carrier and airbase, showing them all our fancy tech. Nearly all personnel had been forced into going to briefings and seminars that told us about all the info we needed to know about this world as well as answering all the dumb questions we marines could think of, 'No calling a Fusonian a gook it's still racist and it's a derogatory term for a Korean, not a Japanese person .', 'No, don't call a Gallian a cheese eating surrender monkey, even if they don't get it.'.
As for me? I've been forced into position as XO, due to my seniority in the squadron, I'm the oldest, surprisingly, most of our other vets were meant to catch up with us at Altis, due to the abrupt need for a carrier task force at Altis, most of the aircrews were on leave; It was a mixed blessing really, the lack of men, but the surplus of spare aircraft to replace or cannibalise. The Squadron's original XO, Captain Stenhouse was one of the lucky few who wasn't aboard or in the area when the-
Well that's another issue entirely, we grunts were given no explanation to why or how we got to this world, everything about it was classified; However, Grady had promised to get us back to our world in one piece, and he was our Admiral in Korea and led the carrier group through some tough shit then.
The XO job isn't that bad, to be honest anyway, got to move in Stenhouse's old crib, much nicer than the 4-man or 8-man rooms that the rest of the squadron lived in and the paperwork was something to do other than play on the Rec rooms Wii. I've been grounded for the last week, Plane is still in the shop, not that I've been down to see it, pretty sure my crew chief still wants to crucify me.
"Oi Christy."
I look up from spearing what is apparently mac and cheese, its Rocket, apparently forgetting that I'm his superior.
"Well hello, 2nd lieutenant." I say, emphasizing the 2nd, "What can I do for you today?"
"Major wants you on Flight Cont."
I grunt and pick myself up. "You can eat that," I say pointing to the mostly intact breakfast.
Jeff literally leaps over the table for the food and I cock my head and stare.
"What? I joined the marines for the food."
My mouth moves, but no words come out and after a moment I give up and head to the flight deck.
Getting lost in the USS Freedom is incredibly easy; it being a 120k ton aircraft carrier and the fact it's as big as 4 football pitches. however, having around 4 years of experience on board her, getting around is a piece of cake and within 5 minutes I'm climbing up the tower and up to the top deck where the primary flight control is.
Climbing up the final ladder up to the top level, I'm met by Admiral Grady and my CO, I fire off a salute and they return it.
"Hello, Lieutenant." Dylan greets, his voice radiating smugness, "How are you."
"… permission to speak sir?" I say turning to Admiral, he nods
"I hate you."
Dylan's smugness became a physical entity.
The Admiral looks at Dylan and then to me and audibly sighs.
In an Instant, Dylan's Smugness turned on Grady, supported by a Shit eating grin from me, no matter what feelings we Muhrines might have about each other, we all stand united in the face of the enemy: The Navy, Semper Fi motherfuckers.
"Fucking Marines." The Admiral muttered under his breath, "Right anyway, the five-oh-first are boarding today."
I raise an eyebrow "Sir, I thought we weren't allowing sparkles on board, on account of being a war crime?"
Grady grimaces and nods, the fact that the allied forces had used children, children had upset pretty much every NATO unit, the recent uses of them in North Korea and in African Civil wars come to mind. "I know." He sighed. "I know, but apparently the other carriers we're going to be operating with don't have space, I've been told that they're an elite unit and they're critical to the operation's success."
"Operation sir?"
Grady grins "Briefing at 1000, Sparkles expected on board at around 0800."
"And Lieutenant, you might be wondering why we called you here for all this, you haven't been punished enough." Dylan chimes in, smugness coming back.
"No," I say, already knowing
"Yes."
"No."
The Admiral rubs his eyes. "Gentlemen please, yes Lieutenant I've assigned you as the 501st's liaison for their time here, it is for the reason that you have more experience with them than any other here, now if you will excuse me." Grady walked off, clearly having his fill of Marine for today.
"That reminds me, me and Grady have agreed that your uniform is ill-fitting for an XO, I know you turned down your promotion in Korea but I'm afraid you can't turn it down this time." He saluted before walking off. "Captain."
Asshole.
XXX
My Options are:
[ ] - Hide.
[ ] - Jump into the sea.
[ ] - Also hide.
I'm trudging down the tight walkways of the Freedom, grumbling to myself, my new slivery Captain insignias sitting on my collar and shoulders, looking at the details of the girl's stay, Room location etc.
It's around 7 hundred hours. What to do?
I could swing by the hanger; however, even after 2 weeks, the Chief still wants to skin me alive so maybe not.
Do some more paperwork? No.
Urgh.
After a while, I decided that fuck it I'd go visits my Crew Chief.
I circle back to the hanger and walk past the F-181s and F-35s parked in the bow section.
"HELLO CHRISTOPHER."
He is suspended on his Black Wasp throne, sitting on both engines of an F-181, surrounded by his minions, cronies, and tools – lots of tools.
The Ultimate Boss.
With a swift hand, he picks a nearby wrench and lobs it in my direction.
It misses by a large margin, flying over my head and electing a yelp from the other side of the hanger.
He holds his head high and takes a distasteful sniff at me.
"YOU HAVE DISPLEASED YOUR KING, HAVE YOU BROUGHT A TRIBUTE?"
Jackass.
Fun fact: Ground Crew are no different from the Intel boys, you buy doughnuts or even better; beer, they'll love you.
I bow lowly, "'Fraid not your majesty; however, I shall buy you the finest of meads once on shore leave!"
He considers this and then nods.
"VERY WELL."
He jumps off his 'throne', his band of goblins, gremlins and trolls dissipates and walks up to me. "Wassup Chris?"
I shrug "Well Mac, I was woken up at dark hundred hours by the Major, told I was going to be a liaison to the Sparkles coming 'aboard today and I still have to do a shit ton of paperwork."
The Chief grins "Welcome to the world of senior NCOs and Officers."
I grunt and point to his 'throne', also known as my F-181, "how's she doing?"
"You're lucky that the engine needed an overhaul soon anyway, plus the abundance of parts. Replaced the above fuel tank and armour plating, the other engine was fine enough, some of the fan needed replacing but nothing else." He grimaces, "Also replaced the plexiglass canopy and some of the damaged interior, How the fuck did you survive that by the way? There's was enough shrapnel in the cockpit to rebuild some of the blades, not that you'd want to."
"Fuck if I know, Sparkly magics apparently, don't ask how I don't know."
"Speaking of Children, Christ how desperate our counterparts be?"
"You haven't read or attended the Briefings? Apparently, they have these magic powers that can create shields and enhance weaponry so a 7.7 becomes a 20, Mike Mike."
He gives me a stare saying that he hasn't had the time for Briefings, a statement supported by the dark bags under his eyes, him smelling like a pigsty and looking likes he's aged 30 years.
We part ways and I check my watch it is almost 0800, may as well be a good little liaison and meet my charges on the flight deck.
XXX
The carrier shifts as it turns into the wind to accommodate a landing as I walk onto the 2nd story balcony on the tower.
"Sir." An Ensign on lookout duty turns to me, saluting "First one is about 3 odd miles out." He hands me some binoculars.
Peering down to the stern and bringing the binos up to my eyes I see them, 10 little dots holding in a traffic pattern with a C-2 presumably carrying spare parts and the ground crews bring up the rear, one starting her landing.
She comes in high, ready to cut power and drop onto the deck, listening to the LSO as she corrects herself and slams down between 1 and 2 wires and catching 2.
She's the 501st's XO, recognisable by the eyepatch. She follows the deck crew's instructions and powers down on one of the elevators.
The landings continue with most of the old girls getting either 2 or 3 wire, the younger ones, however; score dreadfully, the two who escorted me to Magliocco get both get 4 wire – I put this down to not being used to landing on a carrier. Finally, the C-2 hits the deck, scoring a 2.
Handing the Binoculars back the Ensign and after getting directions from the Air Boss for their berthing in the hanger, I head down there, and I find them in their berthing being helped to store their weaponry by the armourers.
"Ladies," I announce myself once they're almost done packing up their gear. Wilcke gives me a not you again look that I ignore, trying to be as professional as possible. "I am Captain Chris Campbell, I'm to be your NATO Liaison during your time aboard the USS Freedom, if you'd follow me I'll give you the tour de boat."
XXX
3 floors below I show them their other berthing, their quarters in other words.
"it's a bit small." The redhead, Yeager if I remember correctly complained.
I snorted, "Welcome to life on a Navy boat, you're lucky that we're at around 3/4 capacity at the moment, otherwise you'd be hot bunking."
"Anyway, let's continue." Next stop was the Wardroom, where they'd be eating, but I stopped at the Aircrew's Rec room on the way.
We're met by the god-awful, off-tune singing coming from inside.
"WWWWHEEEN THE WAR HAS BEEN WON, AND OUR MARCH HOME BEGINS, WHAT AWAITS HAS NOT YET BEEN REVEALED!" Q-Tip and Viper were drunkenly singing, beer bottles in hand. I make a note to interrogate them later about said alcohol - and demand they share it.
"Well." I begin, "This is the rec room, we've got some games, TV, radio and some coffee here… Moving on."
"WHAT WAS WON? WHAT WAS LOST? WILL OUR DEEDS BE REMEMBERED? ARE THEY WRITTEN IN STONE OR IN SAAAAAAND?"
I spin on my heels and continue the tour.
"Who are they?" Wilcke asks behind me as I try and get as far away as possible from the rec room as fast as possible.
"Squadron mates." I say, "And don't worry I'm going to torture them for where they got the booze later."
The rest of the tour is uneventful, I show them the wardroom, medical bay, quarter master's store and the ready room.
With the tour ended I turn to them, "If you get lost, ask one of the crew and if they're not senior brass they won't bite."
I roll up my sleeve, almost 10. "Right, we've got an Ops Briefing in around 10 mikes." I look at Wilcke and Sakamoto "So let's go to the Briefing room."
XXX
The USS Freedom's Briefing room was packed full of its commanders' COs, XOs, and damn near anyone else who needed to be briefed on the upcoming operation. We arrived late, having gotten Q-tip and Viper to show the rest of the ladies around the Rec room and gotten Jeff to keep an eye on themselves, this was a two-fold idea, one it'd give the two troublesome members of the squadron something other than drinking and let me know where they were so I could rain down terrible judgement upon them.
Dylan caught my eye and gestured to the 3 empty seats next to him.
Bastard.
I plod over to Dylan's seat, followed by Wilcke and Sakamoto.
"Have a fun time?" Dylan asks as I sit down.
"Go fuck yourself," I reply under my breath.
He gave a grin and looked over me to address the two other officers. "Hello, I'm Major Dyson, Commander of the VMFA-314."
"Wing Commander Minna-Dietlinde Wilcke."
"Squadron Leader Sakamoto Mio."
Dylan's eyebrow raised a millimetre and was about to speak but was interrupted by the Admiral at the front of the room.
"Good Morning ladies and gentlemen." He starts, coughing a little to get the room's attention.
"Now as you know, we've allied ourselves with the Allied Powers and with the Supreme Commander of Allied Forces in Europe: General Eisenhower, Admiral Mountbatten and General Bono we've come up with a plan to secure the Mediterranean from the alien force known as the Neuroi."
"I know some of you are asking why we've joined this war, and I can understand your trepidations about giving your lives for a conflict that you were never meant to be part of but as members of the United States Armed Forces, Forces of NATO and acting under the jurisdiction of the United Nations, we will not and cannot allow this Xeno Menace to take innocent lives, protecting the innocent is after all the entire reason we were deployed to Altis."
A few nods and mummers meet this statement.
"Anyway, the plan is to at least, first take the Iberian Peninsula, this will have 3 consequences." He holds out 3 fingers. "One: to put the pressure off the supply convoys to the African front, two: it allows another way for our allies fleets to attack the enemy in Italy - Romagna and Venezia without threat of being under air assault from Iberia, three: It allows us to take troops off the Southern French border for redeployment elsewhere."
"I also know that the idea of taking what would be 2 entire countries in our world daunting to a force of around 30,000 men; However, our enemy doesn't act like a normal one. As I'm sure you've read in the various reports and briefings our enemy uses so-called 'Hives' a synapse in their network, we eliminate that, we knock their units in the area. And we will be with support, a friendly carrier fleet will join us – and before you ask, no it's not the 'Grey Ghost', it's the USS Ranger, along with a few Brit carriers and a landing force to rival Operation Torch. Our first objective will be taking Gibraltar, the rock and the surrounding bay, allowing the Gibraltar straits to be traversed at least a little more safely and allow the troops on the ground to be supplied more easily."
XXX
"Dead Island?"
Jeff looked over his shoulder at Lucchini, currently watching Viper show Perrine and Gertrude how to play Monopoly and looking intensely bored.
"Dude she looks about 7."
"What about Ace Combat or Hawx?"
"No."
Q-tip grunted in frustration, the simple fact as grown(ish) men they didn't A. have a need for or B. a want for children's games.
"Well, we do have that game."
"No, we took an oath, it should not see the light of day." Q-tip feigned shock and horror.
"But they'll eat all the food otherwise," Jeff whined, looking over his shoulder at Erica Hartmann, the apparent ace of aces currently pillaging the Rec Room's fridge for food.
"Fine," Q-tip growled, pulling a box out behind the TV's cabinet, and searching through one of the draws for the key.
The Ark of the Covenant opened…
XXX
As the briefing ended, Dylan made a 'come hither' motion and I followed him into one of the many hallways of the 'Freedom.
"Minna-Dietlinde Wilcke." He stated.
"Yes, that is her name."
"Wilcke."
"You've finally lost it, you've finally gone senile."
He smacks me upside the head, "Wilcke you idiot, it's the name of a German Ace in the Second World War."
"Oh… Shit, what do we do."
"Me and Grady agreed that they shouldn't know… what happened in our world."
I hum in agreement, the shock of knowing what happened in our world would- well we wouldn't know what they'd think, Shock? Disgust?
"Did you or Grady tell the rest of the Squadron or you know, the entire this?"
"No, I was going to sit them down later today, but Grady has sent it down the command chain around the ship and fleet, let me see the details about the girls."
I dig the, somewhat crumpled documents about the witches from one of my trouser pockets and after a moment of scrutinising he hits upside the heat.
"You're a fucking idiot, I'd get it If it was Wilcke or Barkhorn, but fucking Hartmann and Yeager, fucking Hartmann and Yeager.
"Fuck you," I reply "I've got shit to do, now if you excuse me I've got to go kill Q-tip and Viper for somehow getting alcohol on this godforsaken boat."
XXX
So, the plan has been- well planned and the first stage of the operation will begin next chapter.
not sure if I went overboard on the humour, probably did.
What game is it?
Kinectimals?
ET?
Bad Rats?
But for now, let me retreat back into my cave for around half a year.
Sorry for any Spelling mistakes and yes, I'm doing this every chapter because I'm British and I can be legally punished if I don't apologise.