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The Battle of Loum

On all military and civilian flights there is a flight recorder that chronicles the last moments of an aircraft. Analysis of the recordings reveals a fascinating phenomenon: regardless of the circumstances of the loss, the aircraft or the pilot, the most commonly heard final speech from the pilot is the same. A single word, in a myriad languages, in different tones of anguish, despair or resignation.

That word is "shit".

This was the word that repeatedly passed Achilleia's lips as she popped her seat belt and scrambled out of the cockpit, grabbing at the outstretched hand of a red-jacketed crash and salvage crewman. She felt a yank that almost popped her arm out of her socket, and then she was floating free of Annie's burning wreckage and being pulled to safety behind a blast deflector.

A red-striped normal suit helmet clanked into contact with hers, and she heard a voice rasp, "You okay, sir?"

She nodded dumbly, swallowed hard, managed to find her voice. It was shaky as all hell, pitched an octave high as she yelped, "Yeah, I'm fine."

She poked her head past the barrier, watched as the crash team bustled about Annie, making sure all the fires were out and ordnance secured. There wasn't too much left, anyway - Achilleia had hosed off almost everything she had into that damned bastard, and it still hadn't been enough.

Clumsy hands pulled her to her feet. "If you can move okay, sir, we need to get you to the med bay."

"No, find me a new ride," Achilleia said. "I need to get out there on CAP again."

"All due respect, sir," came the gruff reply. "We got more pilots than planes left. Pri fly will task you once the docs have had a chance to look you over. Now come on, ain't got time to argue."

That was what Achilleia fully intended to do, but somehow the words didn't come any more. Her legs felt like emptied drink bulbs and a cramp seized her belly and doubled her up with a groan. She barely kept herself from hurling into her faceplate.

"Yeah, you ain't going anywhere but medical, sir."

She slumped against the red jacket. It felt too much like failure. She wasn't sure whether the burning in her gut was bile or rage, but she knew she was going to see those red bastards again.
 
" 3-14 , Roger Zero. Returning to actual."

Well Mack had shaken the grim spectre of death so all that was left was everything else.

With his permission to land approved, Isamu moved all the flaps. "Ok Bruce. One last go?"

He took over with a sharp dive and kicked out his tail. He turned off the engines as momentum alone carried him towards the carrier. The laser projections appeared as he did final approach 5x5 on approach vector. With Verniers and reverse boosts he stopped dead on the Imaginary X he put on the ground then lowered his landing gear, feeling a bump as they contacted the surface and pushed him slightly up before a burst of down force negated it.

" Nice work, Partner."

He saw the rhythm of flames in the corner of his eye and saw Annie starboard side go up.

There was a rapping on the canopy before the Fire Tech popped it unceremoniously and pulled him out. Using a waist-mounted thruster, he then sped them both away from the Flight deck. His firm hand pulling him the wrong direction as Isamu tried to see if the pilot was out.
 
Landing.

Maion had done this action more times than he cared to mention. It had become an almost unconscious action he'd never had to think much about, like chewing food or peeing. He'd only remember the details of what was unusual, not what went right. Weren't avoiding what went wrong and preserving what went right kind of the same thing, anyway?

The more Maion thought about his first combat mission, the less he liked it, the more everybody looked chewed-up, battered, beaten and broken down. It wouldn't leave him alone as he drifted in between the approach beams.

As he put down his gear, so too did he resolve to put his foot down.

This would not happen again.

He didn't care what it took to avoid this collective shame, but this would not be happening again, ever, if he had his way.

While his Saberfish wasn't as damaged as the others', it was still bad enough to warrant a third foam landing for three. He felt a little insulted - it was tradition, after all, to douse a test pilot after a successful maiden flight, and there all you could do was come back with the plane and yourself intact. And he darkly ruminated on the fact that, well, he'd at least proven the targeting pods were perfectly functional...until Minovsky particles made them next to worthless.

His body was running on autopilot and his mind was flying at full speed. He was pretty sure he didn't say a thing to any of the crew as he was plucked from his craft, maybe an "I'm fine" or two here or there.

He wasn't going to be humiliated like this a second time. That was all that mattered.
 
It took him a moment to realize it, but the battle was over, and Mack had survived. The thought briefly crossed his mind that maybe Mack shouldn't have, maybe he should have died with his home, but he dismissed it.

This battle may have been one of the most horrific experiences of his life, but they had at least gotten a few of folks out before the retreat. And he had given a promise to the Federation forces that he would do whatever he could to protect the citizens of the Federation, so he couldn't give up, no matter how poetic it seemed.

When he could Mack popped his cockpit, and stepped out onto the deck, chuckling as he did with the thought of the explanation he would have to give to the pilot Mack had borrowed the fighter from.
 
After escorting Mack on the way back into the ship, Rhea takes a bit longer to come in primarily because as she was coming in one of the wheels were damaged in the fire fight causing the saberfish to lean heavily on a half extended strut in one corner of the hangar. Awkwardly climbing out of the ship, she takes a look at what has been keeping her alive for the past few hours for a few minutes, wondering if she was supposed to form an attachment to such a basic piece of machinery, though feeling nothing.
She walks over to Mack's fighter, "Well glad you're up on your feet after everything Mr. Robbins. You scared me out there, I was certain one of those Zekes were just lining us up in his corsshairs while trying to figure out if I needed to tow you back in. I can understand it, with everything that has been happening..." Rhea comments looking off to the side rather uncomfortable. "Just, hold off until we're not under fire to freak out like I'm about to do? Alright?"
 
_____"Spear One-Two, Heartbreaker here. Got missiles, gun rounds and a full tank. Take it easy, we're hot on the cats." The pilot snapped a salute through the canopy, the shooter dropped down to his knee and swept his arm forward, the catapult dragging the Saberfish by the wheel back into inky black.

_____"Heartbreaker, Zero here. Much obliged," Rev said. "Keep your fangs out."

_____"Zero, wilco. Out." As soon as atmosphere hissed back into the hangar bay, Rev wrenched off her helmet and blinked the sweat out of her eyes. It stuck to her eyes and pooled on her face until she smothered it with a towel. She half-expected a cloud of steam to emanate from her just doffing her helmet. It was chilly in the hangar, and not just for the air-conditioning. The Zeon giants knelt in the bay with shattered Saberfish at their feet. Coriolle's grey-skinned phantom still had the front of Isabella's Saberfish pried open in its hands, where it had been used as an impromptu rescue tool so the med staff could get to the broken pilot inside. Rev couldn't muster the necessary energy to follow her to sickbay, find out what happened. But she couldn't get the sight of the machines out of her mind, even when she closed her eyes.

_____She wasn't tired in the physical sense. No, Rev felt alive, acutely so. She had days, weeks of fight inside her without any outlet, but something worse than fear kept it all in check.Maybe, Rev rationalized, she were stockpiling energy for the grief that had to be fast rushing toward them in the near future. When they linked up with the fleet and constituted for the next battle, and the next. Her wandering took her near the battered machine that had ferried Lieutenant Sanchez home, and the warrant who had piloted it. "Coriolle," Rev said curtly. "Ordnance crew said you found this thing," she said, jerking a thumb at the machine above them. "It's no Zaku. Care to tell me where you learned to pilot it like that?"
 
"Oh, that?" Callista stretched her arms forward, cracking her fingers as she felt that sweet release after hours in that cramped cockpit, "I learned to pilot from the back of a cereal box. Man, the amount of useful stuff you can find on the back of those things..." She grinned in the most innocent way she could muster.

Her smile faltered when she didn't received the expected chuckle. Tough crowd.

"Well, it really isn't hard. It's not that much different from being in a Saberfish honestly," Callista said, winking at her superior, "Why? My piloting isn't that horrendous..."
 
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_____Rev's features smoothed into a small, self-satisfied smirk. "Alright. Just making sure, Callista." She shook her right hand out of its glove and flexed her fingers. Looking pointedly to the warrant officer, she cocked back her arm and broke the back of her hand across Callista's cheek. The sound was like a pistol crack in the hangar, a noise that made the red-jackets and yellowjackets pause for a moment from their hectic routines to look over for just a moment. Rev hooked her fingers into Callista's uniform and dragged her back down to the deck before the blow sent her spinning away. Her cheek was red and swollen, tinged purple in the fringes.

_____"I'm conflicted, Callista," she said cooly. Her hand stung, but not like the searing heat on the WO's face must have. "On one hand, it's a stroke of luck that you subbed in for one of my pilots and sortied today. I'm not sure where we would be without these captured Zeon mobile suits and this ship. Even if yours is shot to shit." The lieutenant shrugged. "You might think you're sierra-hotel fighter jock material, but you left a spacefighter armed with guns and missiles to fight an enemy ace in hand to hand. Someone else paid the price. I'd consider that a black mark on my record or anyone else's, but you look smug about the entire thing." She smiled. "I want to strangle you about as much as I want to hug you for a job well done, but since I'm acting squadron leader, I can't do either."

_____"And one more thing. You're full of shit. Those controls aren't anything like a Saberfish." Rev scrutinized Callista like a particularly rank cut of meat, her lip taking a downward rake at the edges. "When we review the cabin footage during debrief the team is going to see right through you. And if you lie to my face, I won't be on your side to protect you from their wrath." Rev turned smartly on her heel, wiping the fog of sweat off her helmet.

_____"Get the fuck out of here, and have the infirmary check that out. Lieutenant Sanchez could use the company."
 
fuck fuck fuck owwwwwwwwww

Her hand was already reaching up to caress her swelling cheek, wincing as she did so as the prickling of the undoubtedly now purpled epidermis intensified to extraordinary levels. The lieutenant has a sharp bark and equally pointy fangs to show for, it seems.

"Heh," Callista murmured, her one good eye staring pointedly at her superior and her mouth sporting a slight sideway smirk, ferally showing her teeth, "Quite a tough customer to satisfy." . Spitting out the blood leaking out of the inside of the bruised cheek to distract herself from the anger welling inside of her, Callista turned towards the direction of the infirmary, her back likewise facing the lieutenant's. "I will consider your...suggestions, Lieutenant Revelle."

Walking away from her assailant, the dealer made it through the throngs of engineers populating the hangar, ignoring the murmurs and gossiping around her. It's not like this was her first rodeo face-to-face, but fuck did she have a mean hook. Wincing at the searing sensation of her face, she hobbled to the infirmary, a series of "ow"s and "ouch" following suit.
 
Nefilhelm

O'Brain kicked off of the floor and walls to send him and the medical supplies on board into the hanger. "Oi, Lieutenant! Got some packs for the bust'd up ones," he called to Revy as he saw her reaming out one of the pilots. "Where do ya need 'em?" he asked, stopping one of the med kits by holding the strap as it tried to keep moving forward. He flicked his head over to the rest behind him. "I jus' grabbed the first shit I could see in the Med Bay. What do we need and where I need t' get it?"

He paused for a moment looking over the chaos that was the hanger, not even organized chaos at this point, and then continued. "Ya kno, Lieutenant... Ye should probbly take over the bridge. I think I've got me hands full here, if ye catch me drift. Also don't kill 'er too bad." His face took on a menacing grin "...I need some flesh left for nearly bust'n this baby to hell 'n back."
 
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Aliexster said:
She walks over to Mack's fighter, "Well glad you're up on your feet after everything Mr. Robbins. You scared me out there, I was certain one of those Zekes were just lining us up in his corsshairs while trying to figure out if I needed to tow you back in. I can understand it, with everything that has been happening..." Rhea comments looking off to the side rather uncomfortable. "Just, hold off until we're not under fire to freak out like I'm about to do? Alright?"
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Mack did his best to smile. "I'll try." He wasn't going to let force others to risk themselves for him, not anymore after today.

At that moment, a sharp noise filled the room. Mack spun around to see the CO and that sub pilot had been standing. "The heck just happened over there?"
 
"It's the best any of us can do," Rhea says with an equally weary smile. To be honest she was ready to find some place private to vent herself of everything that happened to her today.

Since she was facing the right direction, a quick motion seen from the edge of her eye causes Rhea to flinch over to see Callista almost fall over clutching a cheek. It didn't take much for her to connect the dots. Audibly gulping, Rhea just says, "I think that the boss-lady is dispensing some discipline on that gray cyclops pilot. We might want to make ourselves scarce or else we might incur her wrath," She says waving Mack over towards the pilot's lounge. They probably have a minute or two to get something to drink or hit the head before they're pulled out for a debrief.
"At least if we're not perused by more Zekes," Rhea comments mostly to herself finishing that train of thought. Shaking her head to banish those jinxing words, she says "Let's get going."
 
Aliexster said:
"It's the best any of us can do," Rhea says with an equally weary smile. To be honest she was ready to find some place private to vent herself of everything that happened to her today.

Since she was facing the right direction, a quick motion seen from the edge of her eye causes Rhea to flinch over to see Callista almost fall over clutching a cheek. It didn't take much for her to connect the dots. Audibly gulping, Rhea just says, "I think that the boss-lady is dispensing some discipline on that gray cyclops pilot. We might want to make ourselves scarce or else we might incur her wrath," She says waving Mack over towards the pilot's lounge. They probably have a minute or two to get something to drink or hit the head before they're pulled out for a debrief.
"At least if we're not perused by more Zekes," Rhea comments mostly to herself finishing that train of thought. Shaking her head to banish those jinxing words, she says "Let's get going."
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Mack nodded and followed her. "What's with that One-eye's pilot anyway? And I wouldn't worry about them zeeks following us. Much as I hate to admit it, they're still only human, and are probably going to be just as exhausted as we are after a fight like that."
 
_____"Lieutenant Sanchez is already in medbay," Rev said in a daze. "We lost one. Ensign Borsch. I counted at least a half dozen times." Then, more matter-of-factly. "We're either dead or uninjured, Sanchez aside. Go see to your men in the hangar; they're busted up pretty badly. If I'm unlucky enough to be ranking aboard this vessel... well, we'll see about meeting up with Trafalgar. Thank you for the help, Chief." She pushed off the floor and made for the bridge, passing her pilots as they bunched up near the freighter's lounge. The Zeonic freighter's corridors were cramped in a familiar sort of way, and the bridge, while diminutive by Federation warship standards, was serviceable, given the skeleton crew. Rev pushed herself into the nearest seat and belted herself down, stealing a moment to close her eyes.
 
_____The last of their stolen mobile suits landed. As soon as it had been strapped down, reactor cooling, the remaining ordnance personnel pushed off to find corners to pass out in. The state of exhaustion was felt by every soul aboard the Zeon freighter, and having a few dozen prisoners of war locked inside the brig didn't help lessen the tension in the least. But for a few hours, SPEAR caught up on sleep. The watch on deck woke up Rev five hours into their brief respite. From the windows of the bridge, the hull of a battered Magellan-class vessel filled the space beyond, white, dart-like Saberfish lighting from the hangars. "All SPEAR callsigns, it's been five hours since the battle ended. We're going to be docking with mama Trafalgar in a few mikes. Hangar personnel, prepare to receive our CAP."

​

_____Rev was becoming reacquainted with the sweat and stale air of her helmet when Heartbreaker landed, the red-headed pilot slipping from the open canopy with tinny music emanating from her pilot suit's pocket. She made a quick cutting motion across her throat, stumbling across the floor before pushing off toward the head. "It's shitty out there," she said in passing.

_____That was one of the grander understatements Rev had heard all day. As soon as they had gotten a hard dock with the Federation carrier, she tasted the copper tinge in the rush of shared atmosphere, the smell of rubbing alcohol. Trafalgar's entire port side catapult deck had become something of a tent city, stretchers and pods carrying wounded personnel almost as far as the eye could see. There were a few of the white, bus-shaped shuttles that were common on all Federation vessel, a space work pod. But no Saberfish.

_____Rev felt the lump in her throat grow. Not a single aircraft left in the hangar.
 
Heidt sighed as his mobile suit touched down. It wasn't often that it happened, this feeling. "....DAMN IT ALL!" He swore loudly, slamming the wall beside him. He was overconfident against the so called ace. His stupid mistake could've killed someone who was right beside him. Of course he should have been more cautious, he had his orders and this was only his second time out compared to however much training that red cyclops pilot probably had. That thing looked like the newest kind of mobile suit too, so chances are that the thing also outspecced Heidt's shambling mess of parts that wasn't even fully armored.

"I'll not be forgetting this humiliation any time soon."

Everything that had led up to that moment over-inflated his ego. It wasn't like him, but then again, circumstances were certainly unusual in their own right. The feeling of piloting the mobile suit sent his pulse ticking quite a few beats faster than the Saberfish, and it wasn't from nervousness or fear. Even after all the shit happening around him. He felt quite alive actually, a departure from his usual hollow feeling after training or combat. That said, it may have affected his reaction time, but it certainly didn't affect his skill at handling the mobile suit and someone damn near paid for it.
 
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