NationStates Jolt Archive

The single F-25B Typhoon fighter was seriously off course, having lost most of its systems after the serious thunderstorm it had passed through an hour ago. Moving at Mach 0.6, the pilots kept the large aircraft at 10,000 meters while trying to keep it airborne as long as possible, searching for their carrier, not wanting to ditch into the cold blueish ocean below. The pilot, orlogskaptein Philip "Slayer" Grudahl looked out on the gray clouds and the choppy ocean below, not wanting to have to ditch the aircraft. In the rear, kapteinløytnant Jenny "Lobo" Olsen looked at the systems displays. They had only enough fuel for a few more minutes before the two CTJE-2A-2006 low-bypass turbojet engines would die, forcing them to make a controlled crash landing on the sea.

"Det ser ikke lyst ut." [It doesn't look good.] Slayer said with a grim voice.

"Jeg vet. Ser ut som om vi ikke har noe valg. Skal jeg sende ut MAYDAY igjen?" [I know. It doesn't look like we have any choice. Want me to issue the MAYDAY again?]

"Ja, det kan du... Hva i huleste!" [Yeah, go ahead... What the heck!]

"Hva? Hva skjer?" [What? What's going on?]

Slayer simply pointed at the distance, where the two officers saw something they hadn't expected in their wildest dreams. There was land in the distance!

"Kan vi komme oss dit?" [Can we get there?] Lobo asked.

"Hvis vi klatrer mens vi fremdeles har drivstoff, kanskje." [If we climb while we still have fuel, maybe.] Slayer answered while cranking the throttle up and pulling the stick back, forcing the Typhoon to climb in a 45 degree angle to gain altitude. They got maybe a few more kilometers before the engines ran out of fuel. With a little shuddering throughout the aircraft and a few relatively quiet booms, the engines said good night, forcing the pilots to turn the expensive air superiority fighter into a 200-milllion dollar glider. With the engines gone, the fighter lost most of what it had left of electricity, save for the power generated by the emergency generator underneath the belly of the large aircraft. It barely gave enough electricity to get enough hydraulics to keep the aircraft controllable during gliding and for the radio. As they decended, Lobo got on the radio one last time.

"MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY! This is Royal Cottish Navy aircraft Sabre 3-1-0 requesting immediate assistance. We are making an emergency landing near an unidentified stretch of land near a river delta. MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY!" With that, the radio went dead.

"OK, det var det. Vi er alene." [OK, that's that. We're on our own.]

"Mottatt." [Roger.] Slayer answered, struggling to control the aircraft. They were decending rapidly now, closing on the coastline.

When they were two hundred meters over the ground, Slayer decided it was close enough. They were just crossing over to dry land, and there was little use risking their lives further. Both officers pulled the ejection handles, detonating the explosive bolts which fired the canopy away two seconds before the rocket-assisted ejection seats ignited and pushed the pilots out of the doomed aircraft.

The chutes deployed just as they should, barely stopping them before they reached the wet savanna. The two pilots landed roughly a hundred meters from each other. Fortunately, they were spared serious injury, with Lobo twisting her anckle as the most serious injury. The two met each other quickly and checked their supplies. Both had their service issue L2A1 USP pistols with four 13-round clips each, a survival knife each, two emergency radios, enough emergency supplies to stay alive for three days, and gear to live off the nature until they could be rescued. Both remembered their survival training due to the toughness of it, and they knew that they should make for the coast to be closest to rescue. They had no idea where they were other than that they saw a river delta nearby, and some smoke rising from beyond the hill. That meant natives, and the two officers had no idea whether they were friendly or not. They decided to find out more about them, but first they both activated the emergency beacons. If anyone listened, they should be able to find them.

The aircraft carrier from which Sabre 3-1-0 had taken off from was just coming out of the vicious storm along with its escorts, finally being able to do more than a few knots. The communications systems were finally back online as well, and the communications officers checked the ether for any messages while other crewmembers got to work, repairing the storm damages. A few portholes had been smashed in by the waves, and the respective quarters were flooded, creating water damages and all kinds of nasty things. Nothing serious though, so the carrier would be back to specs within a few hours. The electromagnetic catapult system was dried and prepared for duty again as well, so they could get a few aircraft in the skies. Four Typhoons, two Enforcers and a Dagger AWACS was being brought up from the cavernous hangar deck via the four massive elevators so they could take to the skies once again. They had an aircraft missing, and they wanted it back.

After about an hour, mainly thanks to atmospheric disturbances, the comms officers picked up the MAYDAY call from the missing aircraft. They plotted the possible search radius, and started heading for the general area, moving rather quickly at 33 knots. They would have to send a pair of Typhoons up to search, mainly due to the range of the aircraft. The Enforcers they carried aboard only had a combat range of some 1,100 kilometers. The Typhoons could go 2,400 kilometers. Instead of weapons, the Typhoons were fitted with two external fuel tanks, giving them an added range of some 500 kilometers, and two short-range air to air missiles for self defense. A Dagger refueling aircraft was also sent to the air to top off the tanks.

The two search aircraft, dubbed Sabre 3-2-1 and Sabre 3-2-2 were sent shooting down the electromagnetic catapult and up to the skies, climbing to 25,000 meters and moving at just over the speed of sound, using their powerful CAM-3/A radar suite to search for anything.

They had been in the skies for maybe four hours, being dangerously low on fuel when they spotted something in the distance. Little did they know that it was what their fellow shipmates had seen seven hours prior. Radioing it in to the carrier, they marked the position on the GPS and awaited orders. They were ordered to return to the carrier battle group, which headed for the position.

Six hours later, the carrier was close enough to send up the Enforcers to do a more thurrough search with its surface-search radar. The Typhoons were air superiority aircraft with equipment geared for air-to-air combat, while the Enforcers were multi-role aircraft with both air-to-air and air-to-ground capabilities. The first order of business was to locate the missing pilots, if they were still alive, and to protect them until they were within range of helicopters to come pick them up. Therefore, the Enforcers were armed with fuel tanks, two IRIS-Ts, two BVRAAMs, two Mk.82s and a full load of 650 rounds for the 27mm internal cannon. A total of twelve Enforcers were sent out to search, operating in pairs, spreading out throughout the coastline to search.

It was Ranger 0-6-1 and 0-6-2 that picked up the wreckage of the missing Typhoon on their CAM-2/A radars, some two-hundred and fourty kilometers away. Calling it in, they decended to take a closer look. The area seemed deserted, with no apparent development in the area. Mildly terrained savanna as far as the eye could see.

As they came within a hundred kilometers of the aircraft, they picked up the distinct sounds of a Cottish automated homing beacon. It was definately their aircraft! Reporting the news, the two fighter jets flew closer and closer before finally getting a visual on the aircraft. It had skidded along a stretch of what seemed like a farmed patch of land, being relatively intact. They could also see someone standing around it, beating on the fusilage? Flying at no more than four hundred meters above the ground at 600 knots, they made a mighty roar as they flew over the wreckage, scaring the living bejesus out of whoever it was down there. Making a few more passes to see and take pictures, they climbed again and looked around, constantly listening to the emergency band on the radio. They could see what seemed like a small village in the distance, and informed the carrier.

"Sabre 3-1-0, this is Ranger 0-6-1. Do you copy, over?" No response. "Sabre 3-1-0, this is Ranger 0-6-1. Please acknowledge."

"Who is this, over."

"This is Ranger 0-6-1, Royal Cottish Navy flight in search of downed pilots. Who is this, over?"

"This is Sabre 3-1-0, Lobo speaking. Slayer has been captured, I repeat, captured by hostile locals. Apparently the aircraft killed a few of them when it crashed. I've evaded them this far, but I am wounded. Request immediate evac."

"Stand by Lobo." the pilot in the Enforcer replied, quickly relaying the information to the carrier. This had turned from being a simple search and rescue mission to a combat search and rescue mission. The carrier would have to get closer to the area before attempting to mount a rescue mission.

"MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY! This is Royal Cottish Navy aircraft Sabre 3-1-0 requesting immediate assistance. We are making an emergency landing near an unidentified stretch of land near a river delta. MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY!"

The merchantman SS Chicago, off the south-west coast of Terra, received the Cottish distress call and immediately changed course to investigate. Chartered by the Jamesville Trading Company, the Chicago was carrying a load of scientific instruments from the Australian Viceroyalty to the Jamesville Free State for use in the science department of the Free State University, currently under construction and set to open in a few months' time. The merchant vessel broke through the choppy waves, moving closer to shore until land became visible. Deploying the merchant vessel's fastboat, a modified CMW skiff, an away team of about a dozen men headed for shore.

First Mate Roland Dawson led the team, while the Captain of the Chicago remained on board the ship. The team was heavily armed as far as merchants were concerned, equipped with HK G36s and various non-lethal items such as smoke grenades and flares. It was standard procedure for JTC ships to be heavily armed; the possibility of hostile natives and reports of pirates on the far side of the continent made it prudent for merchant crews to have some military capability. In addition, most JTC ships had a military liason officer aboard; the Colonial Regulars assisted in the training and command of JTC security forces in exchange for the JTC providing equipment and weapons at a cheaper price than could be found on the market.

First Mate Dawson held a commision in the Regulars as a Captain, and among his away team were two militia troopers. He'd placed each trooper in command of a five-man section, in order to have disciplined and experienced men in charge. Upon reaching the shore, the team disembarked and began moving inland, toward what appeared to be an automated distress beacon.

Just out of view of the sea, Dawson's radio chirped. The captain of the Chicago reported military aircraft in the area, and predicted that the Cottish Navy would show up within a few hours. "Go ahead and alert them to your presence, Jim," Dawson suggested. "Let them know we're looking for their pilots, and that we'll stay with them until Cottish forces can extract them."

As per the soldier's instructions, the captain relayed the following message to the Cottish Navy on an unencrypted radio broadcast:

Royal Cottish Navy, this is Free State Merchant Chicago, we have received a mayday from Sabre 3-1-0, and are moving to investigate. A team of men has been dispatched to the mainland in an attempt to locate the pilots. If found, we shall notify you immediately.

OOC: Figure my people land about the time your search aircraft return to the carrier, since they were closer to shore and everything.

Royal Cottish Navy, this is Free State Merchant Chicago, we have received a mayday from Sabre 3-1-0, and are moving to investigate. A team of men has been dispatched to the mainland in an attempt to locate the pilots. If found, we shall notify you immediately.

The comms officers sitting in comms room somewhere in the rather large superstructure of the Enterprise class aircraft carrier HMS 'Tromsø' (R16) picked up the communication from the merchantman. Immediately, they tried to triangulate the position while sending a message to the commanding officer that they had been contacted.

"Free State Merchanct 'Chicago', this is Royal Cottish Navy aircraft carrier HMS 'Tromsø'. We are en route to the area ourselves and are preparing for a rescue operation. Be advised, contact with missing pilots have been established. One captured, one evading hostile locals. Approach with caution. Over."

Meanwhile, Team 16 from Marinens Jegerkommando was in a briefing room, being brought up to speed on the situation. Each aircraft carrier had a team of Naval Rangers, the Cottish equivalent of Navy SEALs embarked aboard for missions like this. The eight men would make up the initial rescue force, being ordered to move quickly in, snatch the evading pilot and return her to a helicopter before finding the other missing pilot, the one apparently captured by the locals. They would also disable the downed Typhoon in order to prevent the classified systems from falling into the wrong hands. ETA for the carrier group to be within range would be in less than twelve hours. One of the four RQ-35C Mack UAVs carried aboard the aircraft carrier would provide realtime intelligence while Enforcers would be in the skies above, ready to provide close air support if necessary.

By now, the carrier battle group had made it within reach of the coastline, and it was time to initiate the first phase of the rescue operation. The eight special forces operators were lifted up to the busy flight deck of the aircraft carrier via the rear aircraft elevator, hauling with them the heavy equipment. Each man had, on average, twenty-five kilos of equipment, weapons and survival gear, plus another ten for the advanced battlesuit they wore under the pixellated camouflage uniforms. The men were the elite of the elite in the Royal Cottish Navy, and their weaponry and equipment resembled that.

Marinejegerteam 16

Team Leader: (1) L44A2 Special Assault Carbine [with 240 5.56x45mm rounds]; (1) L6A2 Tactical Assault Pistol [with 60 9x33mm rounds]; (1) Laser Designator; (2) Mk.1 Fragmentation Grenades, (2) Mk.3A2 Green Smoke Grenades, (1) Mk.6 Infrared Prism
XO: (1) L46A2 Battle Carbine [with 120 7.62x51mm rounds]; (1) L6A3 Tactical Assault Pistol [with 60 10x21mm rounds]; (2) Mk.1 Fragmentation Grenades, (2) Mk.2 Flashbang Grenades
Demolitions: (1) L42A1 Tactical Assault Carbine [with 300 5.56x45mm rounds]; (1) L5A3 Barak Pistol [with 50 11.43x23mm rounds]; (10) kgs of C4; (3) Mk.1 Fragmentation Grenades
Communications: (1) L25A1 Tactical Shotgun [with 64 12-gauge shells]; (1) L6A7 Tactical Assault Pistol [with 50 11x43mm rounds]; (1) ACHTRS Mk.4 Encrypted Radio System
Sniper: (1) L70A2 Heavy Sniper Rifle [with 50 12.7x99mm rounds]; (1) L22A1 Personal Defense Weapon [with 80 4.6x30mm rounds]; (4) Mk.5 White Smoke Grenades
Spotter: (1) L44A3 Special Assault Carbine [with 240 6.8x43mm rounds]; (1) L3A1 Desert Eagle [with 45 9x33mm rounds]; (1) 10.5x Spotter Scope w/Laser; (2) Mk.1 Fragmentation Grenades, (3) Mk.5 White Smoke Grenades
Medic: (1) L20A1 Submachine Gun [with 350 5.7x28mm rounds]; (1) L6A5 Tactical Assault Pistol [with 72 5.7x28mm rounds]; (3) Tactical Medical Kits
Heavy Weapons: (1) L63A1 Light Machine Gun [with 600 7.62x51mm rounds]; (1) L5A2 Barak Pistol [with 52 10x21mm rounds]; (2) L83A2 ILAW; (3) Mk.1 Fragmentation Grenades, (2) Mk.4 Incendiary Grenades

The elevator reached the flight deck and the men picked up their gear, moving quickly towards the waiting two H-23B Merlin helicopters that would fly them to the insertion point, some three kilometers inland. From there, the men would walk another few kilometers until they reached the area where they were expected to find the missing pilots.

The Merlins sat on the deck, rotors turning, crew chiefs finishing loading the L65A1 Miniguns and pilots going over the final check-lists. Each Merlin could take up to eighteen combat-ready soldiers, comfortably, but for safety reasons, the Marinejegers would divide into two, with four in one Merlin and four in the second one. That way, in case one Merlin was shot down, the surviving fireteam would be able to carry out the mission. Hopefully, that wouldn't happen.

At 06.30 local time, the two Merlins were given permission to take off, which they did quickly. After taking off, they climbed to thirty meters above sealevel before flying quickly towards the coastline. Inside the passenger compartments, the Marinejegers relaxed as best they could, reading a book, listening to music on a portable MP3-player, or just looking out the open door at the waves below. The flight in to shore took the better part of an hour, moving at close to two-hundred and ninety kilometers per hour. As they crossed over the beaches, the -jegers got ready, finished checking their weapons and activated their battlesuits. The two Merlins slowed and decended near a patch of forest, the crew chiefs on the Miniguns, scouting the area with trained eyes, before finally they came to a hover half a meter above the ground, standard procedure in case there were land mines that could damage the helicopter, allowing the Marinejegers to jump out.

After ensuring the area was clear, they moved quickly into the forest where their camouflage uniforms would work even better, moving half a kilometer quickly before pausing to notify the carrier. The team leader got the radio reciever on the large encrypted radio system the communications NCO carried on his back and spoke into it.

"Big Dog, Big Dog, this is Delta 5-7. Come in, over."

"Delta 5-7, this is Big Dog. We read you five by five, over." the reply came relatively quickly with remarkable clarity. There was no static on the line, a testement to the digital radio system made by Cottish engineers.

"Big Dog, we are on the ground at checkpoint Bravo. Proceeding to checkpoint Charlie. Will contact again at checkpoint Hotel, over."

"Copy renewed contact at checkpoint Hotel, Delta 5-7. Good luck. Big Dog out."

That was that, so the team leader returned the reciever to the comms NCO before instructing his men to move out silently. The XO had point, and the rest followed silently with spaces of twenty meters between each man, just in case.