31 OCTOBER, Y169
20:15:00
“Via,” a visibly-impressed Colonel Tyl Koopman whispered, as through the periscope of his command panzer, he watched these North American Marines sweep through the streets and buildings of Acropolis to the tune of an ancient Led Zepplein song.
The eight-inch powergun in the M10 merkava's remote main turret then cut a blinding white line through an arcology spire, setting it alight, burning panes of glass, masonry, and bodies falling to the ground, as the blower panzer led the rest of Alfa Company, 1st Frieslander Foreign Mechanized down the wide boulevard leading from the downport, its main powergun and co-axial tribarrels chopping into buildings on either side, as the infantry of the White Mice stormed those buildings, one- and two-centimeter powerguns blazing cyan streams of molten copper into the enemy troops charging from cover to cover to greet them.
A shimmering of heat in front of him, Koopman directing his driver, Hussar 3C Karl vander Horst to,”poir it on!” Horst driving the hover armored fighting vehicle straight into the Alliance anti-armor team gating in with single-shot 90mm r-guns, while the tribarrels on the front glacis opened up, burning birs of overarmored Alliance Guardsmen flying over the slope and skirts, as Horst just laid on the coal, the jets and hoverfans both screaming, as they propelled the panzer into the path of a specialist tank ddestroyer struggling to slew itself around to bring the eight-inch r-gun in its forward slope to bear.
Hussar 2C Brini Kohl not giving them the chance, eviscerating the tank destroyer, and two more like it with a burning silvery-white beam of molten turanium from the main powergun, while, overhead, MAHEM torpedos from the 16” multilaunchers on Artillery Section's hogs whistled past, firing their charges of molten meltal, created by fourth-generation matter-antimatter reactions, into distant targets, Kohl, for her part, shifting fire to more acology spires, more enemy troops with heavy weapons sited in balconies overlooking the street, burning slashes instantlu appeariing in those structures, hundreds of stories tall, to further light up the night sky.
Something went CRUMP![/u] underneath Koopman's panzer, the powerguns in the turret and the front slope all sending cyan bolts downrange into a motley assortment of civilian motorcars, Koopman seeing afterimages of their occupants and the heavy firepower they openly carried, something alien to the Frieslander's mind, those heavily-armed civilians bursting into cyan flame, as the main powergun found still another target further ahead, and fired.
R-gun rounds spatterd against the hull like raindrops, the aft tribarrels joining their companions in firing on still more civilians scrambling from cover to cover in the street in front of and to the rear of the panzers bearing down on them, these civilians supported by 90mm storm guns mounted on tripods, operated by crews of civs behind wrecked motorcars, random bits of burning rubble or whatever other cover provided by the current battlespace.
The main powergun fired still again, slicing apart Alliance Fenris tracked main-battle tanks deploying infantry in the ornate, unpowered, and basically useless full plate preferred by these Alliance Guardsmen, all along the boulevard's ten lanes and (formerly) tree-lined median, a squad of Guaardsmen in an archon's traffic control tower taking the command panzer under fire, pelting its dorsal armore, before the main turret slewed, the eight-inch powergun fired once, and the panzer moved on.
31 OCTOBER, 2569
20:20:12
”Open your arms, open your arms, open your arms,” sang the M6B Puller main-battle chariot, as, the silver and black Ursa Minor, red and gold of the North American Marine Corps, and the red, white and green of the North American Common Assembly fluing large and proud rrom its whip areials, the 150-ton ground-effect armored fighting vehicle rammed through the enemy dug in along the steps, vectors jets incinerating those not crushed underneath the overpressure from the hurtling chariot, as it smashed through the arcology spire's rank of glass and brass doors, Major General Enos Cantrell, skipper of the Hard n' Fast Fifty First, let loose with the coax 50mm storm guns and the main eight-inch r-gun in the Puller's remote turret, Lance Corporal Jada Adair, an Indy car driver in civilian life, drove her gev straight down the corridor ahead, leaving destruction and lots of dead Alliance troopers in her wake.
The storm guns in the forward corner turrets and in the front sloped vectored a hail of blue-hot lead downrange at a heat shimmering forming directly in their fire arc, chopping an Alliance Guard anti-armor team coming through the gate, before having a chance to bring their one-shot 90mm r-guns to bear, nine other Pullers of Cantrell's lead company in echelon, as, from their bellies, Marine powered-armor infantry dropped to the deck, and fanned out amongst the ruins, enaging both Alliance Guard infantry and civilians carrying various and diverse expressions of their Second Amendment rights, the gevs continuing to blast a path of devastation ahead of them, as they sped past their deployed infantry, and through a back wall to the fire-shot night outside, straight into a rank of Alliance Baneblade gev chariots, the main guns on all ten Pullers firing with a single, defeaning roar of hard, blue light.
Then fired twice more after that, the Baneblades and their deploying squads of infantry rains of metallic fragments and wisps of dissipating plasma through which the command company's chariots drove, coming under fire from emplaced five-inch r-guns in other arcology spires, Cantrell slewin the turret in 180 degrees of arc, vectoring 60 mike mike and eight-inch rounds downrange with a thought from his BCI to the Puller's gunnery station.
Above flew the F4U Corsair heavy fighters of the division's air wing, supported by the AV-72 Sioux tilt-rotor gunships closer to the deck, as the air wing's regiment of Paramarines hit concentrations of enemy troops and enemy artillery along the chariots' line of advance, while Cantrell blasted short-barreled Thunderer eight-inch r-guns and their crews into sprays of blood, bone, grease and metal with the main turret's entire arsenal.
”Been a long time , been a long time, been a lone, lonely, lone-lay time,”the charioys sang, as they engaged, then overran, a line of tracked self-propelled guns, as they scrambled into firing position along the debris- and body-choked street and median.
304-69M2
20:24:17
The prow guns of the Battlestar Flame of Purity opened up still again, taking one of its opposite numbers, as well as a half dozen Flight III Hermes-class battlestars, twice that many Flight Iis scrambling to support them now riddled, dead hulks beginning to spiral down Necromunda's gravity well.
Navarch Kara Thrace sipped on a cold bottle of saline offered by a passing medicae orderly, as she studied both DRADIS and the slate indicating the status of Vipers and Starhawks being turned around on the loyalist battlestar's four flight decks, while the remainder of Flame's air group, supported by its 4,500 flak guns, weathered the storm of incoming ordinance and inbound fighters and bombers.
Reatmed, re-fuelled, and reapired, a squadron of twelve Falchions--a recent addition—dropped from Flame's belly, vectoring toward other enemy capitals still in the fight, salvoing a mix of MAHEM, quantum, and nova torpedos ahead of them, the latter breaking up formations of fighters, nombers, gun sloops, and attack craft, as well as incoming ordinance with blooms of thermonuclear fire, the latter scattering fragments in the path of their intended targets, released streams of molten metal toward them at point-blank range, or slammed headlong into them at near-light speeds.
Flame's[/i[ main-battery guns stabbed out at warships all round it, as, again she plunged through the heart of the storm at max av, her CIC sweltering, the sweat matting Kara's hair and saoking through her uniform evaporating, leaving salt behind, as she found it a struggle to remain conscious.
Gratefully, she accepted still another bottle of cold saline, the icy, salty water momentarily revitaizing her, as it provded her body with much-needed hydration, as a cool breeze began blowing through the ventilation ducts.
“Engineering reports work parties on the hull,” her XO, Captain Karl “Helo” Agathon, reported,”have re-installed five of the radiators shot away, and are working on five more; all fires, including the ones in CIC under control, all hull breaches sealed, primary and secondary ficons back on line.
“My compliments to the Engineering team, Helo,” Kara replied, eyes still on DRADIS and the number of friendly and enemy icons furiously blinking, then going dark, fewer of the latter still remaining, as the helmsman executed a hard burn to rurn the Leviathan battlestar around, and bring her back into the fight, prow guns accounting for five Terran Lex Galacticas, and ten United States-class SDPs caught in mid-pivot, a couple dozen Ares-class and battlecruisers left dead and adrift, as the main battery slewed round in all directions to take still more Terran and Royal US capital warships under fire, while the Falchion squadron, supported by Starhawks and Vipers from the air wing, arrowed in front of the Flame of Purity, vectoring themselves into the midst of attack craft and gun sloops swarming the battlestar from dead ahead.
20:15:00
“Via,” a visibly-impressed Colonel Tyl Koopman whispered, as through the periscope of his command panzer, he watched these North American Marines sweep through the streets and buildings of Acropolis to the tune of an ancient Led Zepplein song.
The eight-inch powergun in the M10 merkava's remote main turret then cut a blinding white line through an arcology spire, setting it alight, burning panes of glass, masonry, and bodies falling to the ground, as the blower panzer led the rest of Alfa Company, 1st Frieslander Foreign Mechanized down the wide boulevard leading from the downport, its main powergun and co-axial tribarrels chopping into buildings on either side, as the infantry of the White Mice stormed those buildings, one- and two-centimeter powerguns blazing cyan streams of molten copper into the enemy troops charging from cover to cover to greet them.
A shimmering of heat in front of him, Koopman directing his driver, Hussar 3C Karl vander Horst to,”poir it on!” Horst driving the hover armored fighting vehicle straight into the Alliance anti-armor team gating in with single-shot 90mm r-guns, while the tribarrels on the front glacis opened up, burning birs of overarmored Alliance Guardsmen flying over the slope and skirts, as Horst just laid on the coal, the jets and hoverfans both screaming, as they propelled the panzer into the path of a specialist tank ddestroyer struggling to slew itself around to bring the eight-inch r-gun in its forward slope to bear.
Hussar 2C Brini Kohl not giving them the chance, eviscerating the tank destroyer, and two more like it with a burning silvery-white beam of molten turanium from the main powergun, while, overhead, MAHEM torpedos from the 16” multilaunchers on Artillery Section's hogs whistled past, firing their charges of molten meltal, created by fourth-generation matter-antimatter reactions, into distant targets, Kohl, for her part, shifting fire to more acology spires, more enemy troops with heavy weapons sited in balconies overlooking the street, burning slashes instantlu appeariing in those structures, hundreds of stories tall, to further light up the night sky.
Something went CRUMP![/u] underneath Koopman's panzer, the powerguns in the turret and the front slope all sending cyan bolts downrange into a motley assortment of civilian motorcars, Koopman seeing afterimages of their occupants and the heavy firepower they openly carried, something alien to the Frieslander's mind, those heavily-armed civilians bursting into cyan flame, as the main powergun found still another target further ahead, and fired.
R-gun rounds spatterd against the hull like raindrops, the aft tribarrels joining their companions in firing on still more civilians scrambling from cover to cover in the street in front of and to the rear of the panzers bearing down on them, these civilians supported by 90mm storm guns mounted on tripods, operated by crews of civs behind wrecked motorcars, random bits of burning rubble or whatever other cover provided by the current battlespace.
The main powergun fired still again, slicing apart Alliance Fenris tracked main-battle tanks deploying infantry in the ornate, unpowered, and basically useless full plate preferred by these Alliance Guardsmen, all along the boulevard's ten lanes and (formerly) tree-lined median, a squad of Guaardsmen in an archon's traffic control tower taking the command panzer under fire, pelting its dorsal armore, before the main turret slewed, the eight-inch powergun fired once, and the panzer moved on.
31 OCTOBER, 2569
20:20:12
”Open your arms, open your arms, open your arms,” sang the M6B Puller main-battle chariot, as, the silver and black Ursa Minor, red and gold of the North American Marine Corps, and the red, white and green of the North American Common Assembly fluing large and proud rrom its whip areials, the 150-ton ground-effect armored fighting vehicle rammed through the enemy dug in along the steps, vectors jets incinerating those not crushed underneath the overpressure from the hurtling chariot, as it smashed through the arcology spire's rank of glass and brass doors, Major General Enos Cantrell, skipper of the Hard n' Fast Fifty First, let loose with the coax 50mm storm guns and the main eight-inch r-gun in the Puller's remote turret, Lance Corporal Jada Adair, an Indy car driver in civilian life, drove her gev straight down the corridor ahead, leaving destruction and lots of dead Alliance troopers in her wake.
The storm guns in the forward corner turrets and in the front sloped vectored a hail of blue-hot lead downrange at a heat shimmering forming directly in their fire arc, chopping an Alliance Guard anti-armor team coming through the gate, before having a chance to bring their one-shot 90mm r-guns to bear, nine other Pullers of Cantrell's lead company in echelon, as, from their bellies, Marine powered-armor infantry dropped to the deck, and fanned out amongst the ruins, enaging both Alliance Guard infantry and civilians carrying various and diverse expressions of their Second Amendment rights, the gevs continuing to blast a path of devastation ahead of them, as they sped past their deployed infantry, and through a back wall to the fire-shot night outside, straight into a rank of Alliance Baneblade gev chariots, the main guns on all ten Pullers firing with a single, defeaning roar of hard, blue light.
Then fired twice more after that, the Baneblades and their deploying squads of infantry rains of metallic fragments and wisps of dissipating plasma through which the command company's chariots drove, coming under fire from emplaced five-inch r-guns in other arcology spires, Cantrell slewin the turret in 180 degrees of arc, vectoring 60 mike mike and eight-inch rounds downrange with a thought from his BCI to the Puller's gunnery station.
Above flew the F4U Corsair heavy fighters of the division's air wing, supported by the AV-72 Sioux tilt-rotor gunships closer to the deck, as the air wing's regiment of Paramarines hit concentrations of enemy troops and enemy artillery along the chariots' line of advance, while Cantrell blasted short-barreled Thunderer eight-inch r-guns and their crews into sprays of blood, bone, grease and metal with the main turret's entire arsenal.
”Been a long time , been a long time, been a lone, lonely, lone-lay time,”the charioys sang, as they engaged, then overran, a line of tracked self-propelled guns, as they scrambled into firing position along the debris- and body-choked street and median.
304-69M2
20:24:17
The prow guns of the Battlestar Flame of Purity opened up still again, taking one of its opposite numbers, as well as a half dozen Flight III Hermes-class battlestars, twice that many Flight Iis scrambling to support them now riddled, dead hulks beginning to spiral down Necromunda's gravity well.
Navarch Kara Thrace sipped on a cold bottle of saline offered by a passing medicae orderly, as she studied both DRADIS and the slate indicating the status of Vipers and Starhawks being turned around on the loyalist battlestar's four flight decks, while the remainder of Flame's air group, supported by its 4,500 flak guns, weathered the storm of incoming ordinance and inbound fighters and bombers.
Reatmed, re-fuelled, and reapired, a squadron of twelve Falchions--a recent addition—dropped from Flame's belly, vectoring toward other enemy capitals still in the fight, salvoing a mix of MAHEM, quantum, and nova torpedos ahead of them, the latter breaking up formations of fighters, nombers, gun sloops, and attack craft, as well as incoming ordinance with blooms of thermonuclear fire, the latter scattering fragments in the path of their intended targets, released streams of molten metal toward them at point-blank range, or slammed headlong into them at near-light speeds.
Flame's[/i[ main-battery guns stabbed out at warships all round it, as, again she plunged through the heart of the storm at max av, her CIC sweltering, the sweat matting Kara's hair and saoking through her uniform evaporating, leaving salt behind, as she found it a struggle to remain conscious.
Gratefully, she accepted still another bottle of cold saline, the icy, salty water momentarily revitaizing her, as it provded her body with much-needed hydration, as a cool breeze began blowing through the ventilation ducts.
“Engineering reports work parties on the hull,” her XO, Captain Karl “Helo” Agathon, reported,”have re-installed five of the radiators shot away, and are working on five more; all fires, including the ones in CIC under control, all hull breaches sealed, primary and secondary ficons back on line.
“My compliments to the Engineering team, Helo,” Kara replied, eyes still on DRADIS and the number of friendly and enemy icons furiously blinking, then going dark, fewer of the latter still remaining, as the helmsman executed a hard burn to rurn the Leviathan battlestar around, and bring her back into the fight, prow guns accounting for five Terran Lex Galacticas, and ten United States-class SDPs caught in mid-pivot, a couple dozen Ares-class and battlecruisers left dead and adrift, as the main battery slewed round in all directions to take still more Terran and Royal US capital warships under fire, while the Falchion squadron, supported by Starhawks and Vipers from the air wing, arrowed in front of the Flame of Purity, vectoring themselves into the midst of attack craft and gun sloops swarming the battlestar from dead ahead.
Statistics: Posted by WillDexter — 2024-07-04 03:15pm