With the flick of a button the screen pulled up a view of the interior of the transport bay, it was a flurry of action, considering the fact that they weren't due to make landfall for another hour it was odd that there still seemed things that needed to be finished by maintenance workers. TSF Pilots make ready for immediate launch." Despite the sailors young age he managed to hold his composure well, declaring the change in readiness of the ship with a sort of cold confidence befit to someone who was sure it was all over for them.Ĭolonel Fabel moved from his spot against the wall to an empty station that had been set out for him to monitor the Battalion. The warning klaxon blared loud across the ship, and could be heard coming off of the nearby TSF transports as well, followed by a pause in the klaxon as a young man of the bridge crew picked up a microphone, "General Quarters, General Quarters, all hands man your battle stations. Immediately the Captain had his Sailors at their stations and carrying out their duties as they were trained to and a moment later the lights switched from the welcoming white of standard operations to the blood red emergency lighting, bathing the interior of the ship in the eerie dark light of General Quarters. Booming cannon fire was exchanged with high-pitched lasers, coating the sky in a fiery abyss.Īnd when the emergency red lights flicked on, hell on earth had truly begun once more for humanity.Ĭolonel Fabel, Commanding Officer of the 231st, had been standing at the back of the bridge as the Sailors had gone about expressing their fears to the Captain, and had almost spoken up to try and ease their minds but found himself cut off by the sudden light that cut through the fog and took out a TSF as it flew past the ship, lighting the foggy sky in red and orange as pieces of the TSF splashed down in the water just off the port side of the transport ship. Some slid on their headsets, attempting to establish radio connection with the rest of the fleet, while others clambered to alert their own ship. With the slightest movement of the captain's hand, the sailors began to scramble to their positions. "I believe we are at war, gentlemen." Was all the captain spoke his reaction clearly jaded in comparison to his cowering underlings. Then, as if the captain knew what was to come, a bright laser cut through the fog, absorbing the TSF in a massive explosion of fire and black smoke as the laser struck it. Little did they know that the captain had been fixated on a pack of TSFs, their element flying over the various naval craft that floated beneath them. Did their captain share the same views, or was he fueling with anger, ready to reprimand them at a moment's notice? It had left the sailors wondering, engulfing the bridge in an awkward stillness. "Captain?" Another sailor asked, conflicted by their superior's silence, yet no answer would come-only the same old silence. His arms were folded behind his back, yet the captain of the ship said naught a word. Still, the elderly captain stood stern, gaze fixed forward.
There was nothing but sea and fog for miles, leaving the entire force relatively blind as they approached the Spanish coast. What were they thinking? They're not the ones that are going to die out here." He continued to rant, grumbling under his breath while most of the sailors echoed his points. "The weather conditions are terrible, yet command still wants us to go forward. "I don't like the look of this," A sailor muttered, his eyes forward to the cloudy yet foggy sky. It had been a long and silent journey for the ship's crew the sailors' faces all sharing a grim expression as the occasional reconnaissance TSF roared in the sky, reminding them of their mission to save the world from the BETA.
Nevertheless, they stood together in the small quarters allotted to them within the assault ship carrying their TSFs towards the northern coast of Spain. Some had lost friends, while others were unknown to grief.
Some had faced the BETA before, and some had not. Yet for the multinational 231st UN Tactical Armored Battalion, the "Grey Wolves," such a reality was certain to be theirs. Victory was all that mattered, and it would certainly come at a great cost of lives to defend what was left of humanity. Carnage and bloodshed littered the battlefield, and cannon fire lit the sky like fireworks. The jarring sound of assault cannons expending thousands of rounds as battle commenced, echoing the pleading of pilots for someone to save them as the BETA ripped into their TSFs like a chew toy.
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