Camp Falkirk

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This Again

Posted on 20 Feb 2018 @ 5:46pm by Major Shaun Bradley

Mission: M3 - Politico
Location: Bradley Quarters - Hangar


Shaun groaned and rolled himself over in bed, and debated ignoring the sudden and harsh knocking. Then it cam again.


With a heavy sigh and a roll out of bed, the Major pulled a tank top over his body to make sure he was not just in his shorts. Hitting the button, the doors to his quarter slid open, and he found himself looking at Corporal Couch-Foreyth, who gave him a bit of a once over, but then dove right into her message. "Hangar doors are secured, and the entire base is on lock down with no communications sir. You are needed on the flight deck." The pilot shook his head to clear the fog of the morning and groaned again.

"I'll be there in five," he said and turned around, but paused. "Do we have patrols outside?" The Corporal nodded, and he shook his head again, more out of annoyance. "Get a ground crew out on the snow with laser, get me a connection to the birds in the air and see if we can't figure this out."

.::Ten minutes later - Hangar::.

The Major arrived on the deck in his uniform and his Arctic Survival coat around his arm, which he tossed over the rail as he headed down the stairs. The deck was warm, but if those doors opened like before that was going to change at a whim. Sidearm strapped to his thigh, he walked past a few technicians, who nodded to him as he passed and looked over the others. There were teams attempting to spoof the massive doors into opening outside of the computer control. In the time he had been gone they had managed to disable to magnetic locks, but could not convince the doors to budge. A shuttle power plant was hooked to it, and a group of engineers were standing around trying to release the door control from the computer, which stubbornly refused.

Other issues were about, the lock down had occurred with the shift change preparing, a perilous drop now existed around the massive floor elevators, which were gaping holes and no forcefields in place to prevent a fall, they had disengaged when the lock out occurred. Now there were people giving the lift a wide berth. An albatross hovered over one, prepping to descend to rescue the trapped pilots from their craft, all of which were not responding due to the computer lock out. Luckily, the Albatross has a redundant, manual control system. It had no sensors, and was completely being flown visually, but it flew. The Fighters outside, in the air, were also on VFR, but again, at least they had their laser communication and could stay up, even dumbfire their microtorpedoes if they had to, but if they shut down, they were done, they needed their computers to start the engines. The Major paused to watch the Albatross lower slowly, it's search lights came on and two SAR Techs leaned out the back with ropes, ready to raise the pilots.

While inconvenient, the crews were mostly able to work around the problems and were doing do as quickly as possible. The thud of boots on the deck caught the Major's attention, who turned to view the newcomer. "Sir," the voice proceeded, a Bolian Lieutenant from the Tower, slowed down i n front of him. "We have laser with Buzzard Flight, they report that all the ships in the area are able to maintain station keeping it seems but are also radio silent. Looks like they aren't able to even use their lasers." The Major nodded, and waited for the worse news that was brewing across the woman's face. "Also sir," she added, "We have no radar, no sensors, nothing in the Tower. We are dark, aside from the hard laser line you had run last time. We also still have no idea why were have gone dark, and none of us seem to be able to get even internal communications. If it weren't for runners, we would only be able to assume everyone else was dead."

"Well, lucky for us, they aren't," he said, then watched another person approach, a green clad Warrant Officer. The man paid no heed to the Bolian, and ran right up to the Major, leaned over and whispered something, which drained the blood from his face. He nodded, and the Warrant disappeared. "Lieutenant, you are to release the emergency locks on the Elevator Two as soon as the pilots are clear."

"Sir, that could damage-"

"I am aware, follow through, but try not to damage the craft on the elevator. The hydraulic brakes aren't connect to computer control, but they are tricky at best. As soon as the elevator is clear of it's own tunnel, all Albatross are to be brought to the deck and prepared for emergency transport procedures. Get the Archers online as well."

"Sir, what-"

"You have your orders Lieutenant." The words were curt, cold and unwelcoming. The woman nodded and took off. Shaun walked briskly towards the team trying to coax the doors open, and when the Sergeant leading the attempt turned, he looked like he was prepping to deliver a report when Bradley cut him off. "You have thirty minutes to get this door open, or get me a demolition team who can blast it open. Understood?" The slightly older man looked as if he was going to ask a question, but thought better of it and nodded. "Good." With that the Major spun on his heel and headed back for the doors of his office.

Why would the General order an evacuation?

Shaun Bradley
Air Group Commander - 3rd Aerospace Group
Camp Falkirk


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