NationStates Jolt Archive

Following the collapse of SkyCapt, corporations, rebel bands, and generally people with authority rushed to fill the gap, while the former citizens stood by and watched the chaos. Police forces were overwhelmed by hundreds of reported crimes each week, and the military was of no help, it's leaders being pulled in all directions by the various corporate leaders, rebel militia captains, and who knew else what.
Finally, nearly a decade later, the few people still with power have formed an alliance, shaky at best, under the name Goliath Federation, with the purpose of unifying the broken states of SkyCapt. Already having control over the three northernmost states, the federation sets about it’s monumental task, backed mainly by Raven Corporation, the former major supplier of arms to the RIA, and Goliath Corps, namesake of the federation and the Federation’s aircraft and vehicle major industry. Sweeping down on the Southwest border of the country, the bulk of the Corporate armies kick off Operation Swift Dagger.

*****

“Johnson, I’ll arrange to have you transferred to that armor company if you keep lagging so far.”
Sergeant Thimes was again not pleased with the new recruit fresh from Basic Training. His men shared a chuckle, and a few muttered curses, as they stopped again and waited for the soldier to run the twenty feet to the platoon. A Dragoon lumbered past Private Johnson as he felt a stitch developing in his side. It wasn’t easy to carry the 45 pound suit of gear, he thought to himself, which consisted of a basic winter BDU, a helmet, and the pack on his back, which carried his survival gear, a mess kit, more uniforms, relatively small (but by no means light) radio and it’s equipment, and other ‘useless’ junk. The Special Ops (considered cool by the grunts of the line companies) carried heavier, and more, equipment, but wore the new Dagger II Battle Armor, recently sent down to the front, and the 4th of it’s kind developed from the the obsolete Maxim BDAs used by the RIA years before the nation collapsed.
A distant pop brought him back to the present, and he snapped his head left.
Another firefight, eh? he thought, wishing that he had been sent to that unit instead of the 45th Regiment, which were currently pathfinding for and escorting the 10th Armor Company, towards the left flank of the front, where the most action was supposedly happening. He’d been excited upon hearing that, but that had drained away within the first ten minutes of his first march, mostly through a flooded wheat field in the dead of night during a thick rainstorm.
He endured the tongue-lashing he’d expected from the sarge, which took the better part of 10 minutes (during which he got a lot of grins from his buddies), and finally they got underway again. Johnson’s radio crackled to life as the Captain of an armor unit down the road called for assistance. Thimes smiled, something he didn’t do often despite having a good sense of humor, and ordered his men (needlessly) to haul arse to the front. They were all excited at the prospect of an actual engagement, or at least the chance to fire guns (without having to give an excuse, that was). The 45th was on it’s way to just one of the scores of battles the 6th Corps faced during Swift Dagger. But nothing would hinder the advance of the corporate armies, not while an iron will still drove the iron fist of Goliath Federation.


[OOC: It’s me again (this time under an actual name :p), trying to carve out another nation from the remains of SkyCapt (assuming someone hasn’t claimed control over the territory, which I hope hasn’t happened). I’d out down more, but ‘tis time ta’ go. If you want to join in and help or hinder (preferably the former), feel free to do so]

[OOC: Sigh, there goes any hope of my JC rp....and tagged this thread has been.]

[OOC: Winnar! You get a free cookie for being first postar!]

IC:
This is how it's done, Thought Flight Officer Jenkins, sitting in the front seat of a speeding attack jet.
For as long as he remembered Thomas Jenkins had wanted to fly. With the formation of the federation came along the chance to fly for what was left of his country. Now he sat in the drivers seat of an Albatross Class strike fighter, which had brought him though thick and thin during the campaigns for the upper regions of SkyCapt, but what would now be Federation territory.
"Sir, I've got something on the scope, heading southeast at around 10 miles per hour, 3 o'clock, about 5 miles," His wingman said, alternating between looking at his radar scope and checking the horizon.
"Looks like an armor column, should we go get 'em?"
"You betch'a," Jenkins responded, moving the aircraft towards the armor column.
The Flight of 4 was on a search and destroy mission, and Jenkins planned to keep his flight going until they ran out of stores or fuel. Brought the Albatross right until the blips on his scope were dead ahead. Arming his cluster bombs, he dropped them approximately 3 miles from the armor column. He heard the series of booms as he gained altitude, satisfied with his run.

*****

Lieutenant Mattson looked over the dead foliage in front of him, squinting as the trail of fire bloomed as the second Albatross in the flight of attack jets moved back into formation after dropping a pair of FAEs. The designated armor column would now be little more than a handful of tanks and it's supporting infantry, easily dealt with by the Spec Ops troops a few yards behind him.
"Alright, guys, lock and load. Jackson, hold here with the MG and support gunners and set up someplace where you can get agood view of the area, and provide supporting fire. The rest of you, follow me. Use cover, and only fire when Jackson opens up. Give us ten minutes, at most, Sergeant."
With that, Lieutenant Mattson went though the mass of dead trees and bushes, his boots crunching in the snow. His Dagger II armor covered most of his body, but left his face, some of his legs, and his parts of his forearms exposed. The rest of his gear helped to keep him warm some, but not much. The body armor had a heating and cooling system built in, but that was rudimentary. The other systems, such as the radio equipment, buried among the gear and in his pack, were more developed.
Mattson crouched down just before leaving the mass of trees, and peered through his binoculars. He raised his rifle, and dropped a man walking out of the dissipating smoke. Tossing a smoke grenade, he ran forward, his men following behind, with about 15 feet between each of them. Nothing. Everything was quiet, so he stepped into the pile of wreckage and bodies, and saw the man he'd shot had been the only survivor. He walked away, feeling rather queasy. Being hit by a Fuel Air Explosive was not a pretty way to go.
An Albatross Attack Jet shot overhead as Mattson walked back, to behind a rock and lost his breakfast. A slight drizzle was starting, and it was still the right temperature to snow, prompting the men to hurry back to HQ.

[OOC: That'll probably be all 'till tomorrow... It's been busy, and still is, around here.]