Operation: Swooping Crane - Phase 2 - Just Outside of Township-held Airfield

Private Log, Day 3:

I said it in the first log, but we've encountered some unexpected resistance. We were supposed to come in and decimate whatever stood in our way, but I'm afraid it ain't going to be that easy. There's no negotiating here like I did in Goldendale, and it seems like these guys are gettin' some outside help. Probably NCR. We were hit with some pretty heavy artillery fire the first time we charged in. It caught us completely off-guard and we lost a lot of good men. Fuck. -Sigh- I wonder if they finally got those crazies at Nellis to hand over their guns. If they did, well.. I know where those fuckin' guns are now. Goddamn it -adjusting mic-. I just hope there aren't any NCR troopers in that airfield, and if there are I hope they make it out soon; I haven't been able to get close enough yet. Ain't no crackin' their defenses with what we've got; I've requested assistance. President Clearwater says he's got a couple of those mutant mole-people - whatever the fuck they are - coming to assist, but I ain't too happy about the plan. I've already lost enough men. Now they want to me to keep charging that godforsaken airfield to draw the defenders northward so the muties can hit the airfield from the rear. -Explosion- Fuck. -End transmission-

- - -

Three days under siege had left a once mighty beast weary. It was a dying beast now; its desperate cries heard all throughout the night. It cried out and trembled, its lead claws reaching out to strike down the men besieging its ruined lair. Its claws were a flurry of fiery tracers, the endless clamor of artillery, and the peering bayonet blades of frightened but steadfast men. The guns made the airfield light up a bright orange against the dark backdrop of night, its ruined edifices trembling with every thunderous detonation. It was as though every building had been fortified for the coming storm. It howled like an animal aware of the danger over the horizon; the deafening bellow of a dying beast crying out with its last breath, its spit a fiery hail of lead that wouldn't cease.

Machine-guns peered out of every window, as did canons. They sent forth shells with such force the decaying buildings from which they fired often crumbled. Hathaway had seen it himself. It was a desperate stand, but its bite was still strong. The space before the airfield was a smoldering field of fire; metal carcasses beneath columns of black smoke - what remained of some of his men. The tracer rounds lit the dark areas with their fiery flight and geysers of dirt came bursting skyward whenever a shell impacted the earth, sending shrapnel raining over the 1st Mechanized. Already several men had been put out of action by shrapnel wounds; their arms cut wide open, dirt-caked gashes where a sharp rock or piece of metal had sliced through. But they pressed on.

The air was hot with fire and embers blew against their faces like fireflies amidst the night sky. Smoke choked the air. They could hardly breath, or see. Their ears rang. But they kept their eyes trained on the great fire on the horizon. It roared at them. There wasn't a single man who wasn't covered in dirt. To his right - sitting atop the same armored vehicle barreling downhill towards the airfield - was a boy no more than nineteen. Dirt had caked on his face and some tears formed around his eyes. The dirt cleared in downward-lines where previous tears had run down. Others washed over small cuts and he wore a grimace over fearful eyes. Behind him sat a man with a nose covered in blood. It ran down his face and neck to soak his khaki tunic. He had tried to stop the bleeding and it left him with bloody hands.

Hathaway knew every one of their faces. These were his men, and it pained him to see them suffer. But he knew they were strong. The clanks of impacting rounds cutting away at the armor on their vehicles rang loud. The thunderous boom of shells made them tremble with fear and it felt as though they had been sent to face an earthquake. Blood ran down the side of armored cars carrying men struck with stray rounds or shrapnel, leaving crimson trails upon the dead grass. Their faces stung, peppered by rocks being kicked back by the cars at the front. The fire on the horizon grew bigger and more intense. And it roared, it roared. But they pressed on atop their own metal beasts like a pack of hungry wolves; a storm of rumbling Old World monstrosities they swore could roar louder than whatever awaited them behind the smoke.

This had been their third charge and though every charge had chipped away a part of the defenses, the beast still stood. When they passed the smoke it looked them in the face, its eyes a blaze of yellow and red. Hathaway hadn't given an order when his men opened up with everything they had. A cacophony of sound erupted from his rear and out from under him as every remaining vehicle unloaded. Hathaway braced himself as the machine-guns under him began to fire and the truck began to shake even more wildly. Around them, the thunder of dozens of machine-guns cried out between the more subtle thumps of grenade launchers. For a second, it seemed as though they had overpowered the enemy.

Then came the enemy response.

Something warm hit Hathaway in the face and began to flow down to his neck. It was followed by a sound reminiscent of tearing paper. He looked to his right to see the boy beside him fall off the side of the vehicle. It caught him off-guard. He touched his face and held his hands in front of him to see that they were covered in blood. He realized what had happened immediately and ducked, holding on to his peaked hat with bloody hands. A dozen clanks followed as more rounds hit the truck and cars around it. The man behind him was struck too, and he watched him fall off as the boy had before. The rounds kicked up rocks when they hit the dirt and he could feel their sting where clothes could not shield him.

Looking around wearily he could see that the rest of the cars had stopped firing and their gunners simply ducked. Hathaway could see drivers through the metal slits on the front of vehicles - many of them had ducked and simply stepped on the pedal, sending their cars aimlessly downhill. He couldn't hear anything now. The machine-gun fire was relentless, the shells unceasing. One shell hit a vehicle several rows right of him and its pieces began to rain over the rest. He shielded himself with his great coat but some pieces of shrapnel still cut him. When he raised his head again, he could see some of the vehicles behind the one struck had swerved out of control, smashing into the sides of others and sending gunners spinning through the air; their bodies left mangled to be trampled by those behind.

His men had never faced an enemy this well-armed. And it was clear there were some professionals manning those guns. These were no mere tribal bands, or farmers. There was more to it - the NCR. He ducked again, but this time to peer into the vehicle through its hatch. He couldn't hear a thing, but he knew the driver would. "Get us to the front!" he yelled into the front of the vehicle. He wasn't sure how loud. It was clear the driver had heard him though, and it wasn't long before the vehicle began to pass up the rest. "I want us at the front." Hathaway said. "I want us where everyone can see us - everyone."

Theirs was the lead vehicle now. They had never gotten this close. The walls around the airfield were beginning to tower over the columns, and the fire raged hotter than ever. The occasional clank of impacting rounds made Hathaway jerk and duck but he held on to the top anyway, one hand holding on to his peaked hat. By now, the blood had congealed and it made his fingers stick. He glanced over his shoulders to see the rest of his force - what remained - keeping up. Occasionally, someone would muster up the courage to stand up and let out a burst of fire before ducking behind cover again. It wasn't fear, he could see it now -- it was restraint. Guilt.

Hathaway held his breath and crawled towards the back of the armored truck, holding on for his life as it swerved and shook with every rock it rolled over. Another shell hit somewhere close and its shockwave sent a car to their left smashing against the side of the truck, nearly knocking Hathaway off. He held on with all his strength, a grimace across his face as he pulled himself up again and continued to crawl rearward.

He reached the back and climbed inside. The back of the truck had no soldiers, or arms. Only a flag. It was white and red, with a two-headed bear and the name of his homeland - 'New California Republic'. Attached to the same pole was another banner. This one emblazoned with an old, battered image. One with history, and well-respected within the New California Republic. An image he knew would be recognized by his compatriots - the image of Hathaway's mechanized NCR unit, a skull and crossbones on a field of brown. What he did not know, was whether it would mean anything to them. It was a long shot, but the alternative pinned him against his own - something he dreaded. He cut the ropes keeping the canvas fastened over the flatbed of the truck and the wind sent it flying behind them. He raised the flag pole, fighting against the wind trying to blow it back down, and raised it over the back of the truck. It flew high above the vehicle, and over the rest of the columns. He looked behind him to see other trucks raising their own banners, as planned.

Then they waited.

Still the machine-guns roared, their muzzle-flashes lighting up the airfield. Hathaway and his men waited anxiously, ducking as rounds whizzed by. Then came what they were waiting for. A machine-gun nest went silent. And then another. The shells ceased to fall. "It worked." Hathaway said to himself. "It worked!" he called out. It wasn't long before every machine-gun nest and artillery emplacement manned by NCR troopers dissipated. Only those manned by the Township remained, their tracers firing wildly around the armored columns. "It fuckin' worked." Hathaway whispered. His name - and the deeds of his unit - still meant something. Though it was much simpler than that, and he knew it. Like his own men, the NCR troopers in the airfield had little interest in fighting their own countrymen. Hathaway only hoped now they would leave the Township under the cover of night, before President Clearwater's promised reinforcements arrived and trapped his countrymen within the airfield.

Now came the easy part. Hathaway looked around to see his men readying their weapons and training them on the Township defenders nestled within the crumbling ruins around the airfield. The Township would fall by dawn, and it wouldn't be dragging any good NCR men with it.

- - -

Private Log, Day 4:

It's done -Laugh-. The mole-people reinforcement arrived just as we made our final push. The Township put up a defense but it wasn't much after, well.. you know. We pushed through it, and soon enough they were scattering. The mole-people would have me believe their targeting of leadership had something to do with it, but the fact is this battle was over before they arrived. Four-fucking-days. It'd had been easier if those Klamath boys weren't so damn accurate -Laugh-. Fuck. -Sigh- A lot of good men killed a lot of other good men for fuckin' nothin'. They had left when we poured onto the airfield. Good, too. I'm not sure what I would have had to force my men to do if we had found a whole company of troopers lying in wait for us. They left in the night, after.. you know - after we identified ourselves. I imagine they wanted no business shooting at their own people -- If only they knew how many they took down. -Deep breath- Well, it's over now. My men found a couple of them south of the airfield. One of them told me he was sorry -- I said I was too. I let them go after that. -End transmission-

James stood up after receiving the news about the 7th Freedom brigade. Now he needed to think he had heard about them bringing some artillery. So it;d would be unwise to stay here at the Airport. But he wouldn't even dare retreated but they don't know that they could wait around the airport. He take everything he could and fall back wait until the end of the night when the 7th Freedom fighters were relaxed then send in the force. Yes, that's what he'll do.

After a few hours the men were ready to march. They pushed out into the hills leaving the place somewhat empty to make it seem as though they left in a rush about the glorious fighters from the commonwealth. After this battle is won however he'd be getting some new artillery pieces which will make it easier for future assaults his rangers would also receive more ammo and better equipment.

Game Turn: Three Operation: To Blunt A Spear

Conflict: The Township Proxy War, Late

Location: Washington State Border (South).

Combatants: Yakima Republic vs North California Republic

Back Story: As the Township of New Dalles was brought to its knees in a thunderous display of the Yakima Republic's overwhelming fire power, a hidden player at the table lost their discretion.

When the troops of the 1st Mechanized Infantry Battalion were ordered to annex the town of New Dalles, and in doing so end the war between the Township and the Republic, someone was listening. Every belch of radio static, every word, whisper, sigh and breath omitted over the Yakima Republic's rudimentary communications network has been carefully intercepted, analysed and developed into a weapon.

A battalion strength unit of what are undeniably NCR troopers have appeared seemingly out of nowhere, obviously mustered from an outpost nearby not known to us. They have ignored the planned assault on New Dalles, and have instead thrown themselves against the eastern bridge.

With the mechanised infantry busy preparing for an assault over by Dalles Airport, it fell to the 8th Underground and Recon Division to hastily redeploy to the eastern bridge, in an attempt to halt the NCR's brazen attack. They arrived in good time, but not quick enough to stop a few platoons of NCR troopers from cutting their way through the bridge's meagre defences, and moving onto towards Goldendale.

Realising that the YR's southern borders were in fact facing a full scale invasion from the NCR, the President has aborted all operations concerning the annexation of New Dalles, and has immediately ordered the beaten and bloodied 1st Mechanized Infantry Battalion to rush to the 8th Underground and Recon's aid.

Operations Map



Missions:

Refer to Operations Map for corresponding mission numbers.

Mission #1

Republican Armies Involved: 1st Mechanized Infantry Battalion, 8th Underground and Recon Division

Mission Objective:

The 8th Underground Recon Division is to hold the eastern bridge against a determined NCR assault, whilst the 1st Mechanised is to rush to the division's aid before it is overwhelmed.

Victory Parameters:

1) Hold the eastern bridge against the NCR.

2) Rout or destroy the NCR battalion.

3) Purge Goldendale of NCR advance parties. (Optional)

Defeat Conditions:

1) Lose the bridge to the NCR.

2) Purge Goldendale of NCR advance parties, and establish new line of defence. (Optional)

Enemy Strength:

These are no mercenaries. The Bear is here, and in force. There was no warning, and until now, we thought a war between the two republics was years away.

How wrong we were.

The NCR soldier is a second-rate professional, usually a conscript fighting for a government that hardly cares for him, or her. Their morale is usually average, and hinges around their battlefield dominance. Their weapons are standardised, and the average infantryman carries a Service Rifle. Grenade launchers, light machineguns and sniper rifles bolster the NCR's armoury.

Their understanding of military tactics is impressive, so expect them to be smarter than anything we've faced this far.

Their weaknesses? Morale. These soldiers are tired of killing tribals, so that some fat bastard back home can rake in the money. Once they hit something as solid as a stone wall, their enthusiasm for slaughtering defenceless villagers will quickly collapse. Were we facing Rangers, or another elite unit, then victory would not be an option. However, if you make these bastards bleed enough, they'll run sooner or later.

Troop Numbers:

600 - East Bridge

100 - Goldendale

Operation: To Blunt A Spear - New Dalles Airfield

The rumble of engines drowned out the sound of men running about and issuing orders. Battered columns of makeshift armored vehicles crowded the crater-filled runways where tents had not been erected. Around them stood the crumbling fortifications that had given them so much trouble the night before. They were but scorched dwellings now, and Township men - defenders - were still being pulled from the ruins, their bodies crushed and ripped beneath concrete. Hathaway had been disheartened to find two dead NCR troopers amidst the carnage. They wore no patches, but he knew.

The sound of vehicles was quieter inside the command tent, but it was inescapable and constant. Hathaway stood sternly in his greatcoat and peaked hat. The cuts on his face had begun to heal but their sting persisted. Before him sat several commanders. In the center, on a crooked table, laid a worn map of the surrounding area. Their orders - those given by President Clearwater himself - had been drawn over its surface in bright reds and blues. Hathaway stood over it, his hands buried under his hair. "Fuck!" he screamed.

The men before him were more than just commanders; they were his friends - veterans of the Second Battle of Hoover Dam relieved of their service after following Hathaway on an offensive and violating orders to hold position. These men had already proved they would follow him to the end of the world; he had no need to hide his emotions from them. In fact, they shared them.

One of them - Captain Werner - took a deep breath, leaning back in his chair. "This is bullshit." he said bluntly. He looked around the table, frustrated. "I say we sit here." he said, shrugging. "Fuck it."

"No, no." another across from him - Major Thorne - stepped in. "Too obvious a transgression. We do that and there's no hiding our sympathies."

"Well, fuck them." Werner said. "We don't owe these Yakima fucks anything - they owe us. I ain't gonna shoot my own fuckin' people to please some fucked up, reformed raiders. We ought to join up with the NCR - fuck, it doesn't even sound right, calling them 'NCR' like their some fuckin' group we ain't familiar with. Those are our boys."

"We're not with them anymore." Thorne said.

"Fuck if we're not - I know where my loyalties lie, I know where I was born, where I grew up. I know who my brothers are, and not one of them has strayed from the bear."

"But we have." Thorne countered. "I'm not anymore loyal to Yakima than you are, but we made our decision - we left the NCR. They may be our brothers at heart but we turned on the bear a long time ago."

"I never did." Werner said. He reached in his tunic and produced a golden star pin with the image of a two-headed bear and the rank of Captain. He threw it on the table in front of them, where it bounced with a cling before it settled over the map. "I ain't shootin' my fuckin' people."

"Well, we can't just sit here." Major Hood cut in. "We sit here, our sympathies become clear, and we're labeled a liability and a threat. Next thing you know, we'll be trapped between the circus that is the Yakima army, and the bear's jaws. The NCR brass ain't gonna welcome us back, either. We'll all be executed if we give ourselves up."

Werner stopped for a second, his mouth filling up with air before he blew it all out as if he were troubled as to what to do. He threw his hands in the air, "I don't fucking know." he admitted. He looked at Hathaway, "Get in contact with the NC- with our boys, and tell them you have information and an airfield to exchange for a unit-wide pardon?"

The thought had crossed Hathaway's mind. It still did occasionally. He kept it in the back of his head as a last resort. But there was something about it that troubled him. The thought of betraying a nation again made him hate himself. He knew deep down his legacy held little value when compared to the lives of his men, though, and he told himself he'd do it if he had to. But he didn't reply to Werner's proposal. He didn't know what to say.

Thorne must have taken his silence for a 'no', and stepped in, "We can cross the bridge here." he shrugged, pointing at the bridge just south of the airfield. He spoke weakly as if he were offering his input without any real desire to see his plan carried out. "Then we go east," his finger followed route 30 eastward, "and hit the NCR from the side." he said. "Or we can wait until they cross the bridge, then come in from behind and trap them between us and the mole-people south of Goldendale."

It was a good plan if they wanted to destroy the NCR. But they didn't. None of them did. They all wanted a way out.

"We ain't killing no goddamn troopers." Werner stepped in again, slamming a fist on the table. It wasn't anger, Hathaway could see it. It was desperation. "We killed two last night and it's fuckin' killing me." he said, his voice shaky as if on the brink of tears. But he held it back.

"No one's killing anyone." Hathaway finally spoke. His mind was a mess of thoughts; ideas, worries, fears. He wasn't quite sure what to do, but he knew he needed a way out without a confrontation with the NCR. "Fuck this." he sighed, swiping everything on the map - figures indicating troop positions - off the table. "Fuck Clearwater and fuck his plan." he said, the men before him smiling with relief. "I want the bridges blown to hell."

"The orders say we need to hold the-"

"I said fuck the orders!" Hathaway cut in. "We don't have the men to hold the bridges, anyhow. We barely had enough to take them." he explained. But that wasn't his reasoning for taking them down. It was a factor - one he would write down on a report to hide his true motives. "The Yakima Republic doesn't have the strength to go on the offensive against the NCR - not yet. But when they do, it's those bridges that will provide them - us, whatever - a way south into NCR territory.

"And then it'll be New Californian settlements we'll be sent to burn down. It'll be our own goddamn people we'll be fighting." Werner said.

"Exactly." Hathaway nodded. "And I'll be damned if I let that happen." he said. "If we take down the bridges, we take down the Yakima Republic's ability to push southward - at least within the foreseeable future. If President Clearwater has something to say about it, we remind him we're fighting a defensive war here, and that those bridges are the reason we're threatened with invasion."

"So, with the well-being of the Yakima people in mind, we decided to take the bridges down in order to halt the enemy advance and buy us all some time." Werner smiled. "I like it."

"But best of all: we won't have to kill anymore of our people." Thorne added. Hood nodded approvingly.

"Alright then." Hathaway filled his lungs, taking a step back. "Werner." he looked at the Captain, "Make it happen. Take a small force to the bridge south of here and blow it to hell."

"Yes, sir."

"Hood." he looked at the Major. "Take a portion of the Support Company eastward down route 14. Position yourself on the north side of the river - within artillery range - and use the guns we recovered here to target the eastern bridge. Make sure you're safely out of enemy range and be mindful of any NCR troops on and around the bridge."

"What if they're holding the bridge?" Hood asked.

Hathaway sighed. The decision weighed on him. "Take it down anyway." he said, his voice hinting at the sadness he felt. "If you can minimize casualties, do it. If not.. we don't have a choice. It's either a few troopers on a bridge now, or hundreds later."

Hood nodded.

"What about the mole-people?" Thorne asked.

"What about them?" said Hathaway. Reinforcing them meant facing the NCR. He wondered if it was worth it and it was hard to convince himself it was.

"Oh, no, no." Thorne stepped in. "We can't just let them die." he said. "I mean, fuck. We may as well fly the bear's flag if we do."

"We should be." Werner shrugged.

Hathaway paused for a minute. The problems he was being faced with were overwhelming. He felt like screaming into his hat. "Fuck!" he snapped. "Fuck - okay. Thorne - take another portion of the Support Company and head eastward. Avoid the NCR at all costs. Go off-road if you need to, I don't care. Set up somewhere south of Goldendale and coordinate with the 8th Underground. Let them know you're there to evacuate them and do just that. Load them up into the vehicles and take them north into Goldendale. When you're there, pick up our small garrison stationed there and get them the fuck out of there before they're forced to face the NCR. Bring them back here. Leave the 8th to handle the defense of Goldendale alone. If they ask, tell them you're all we could spare and you're needed back here as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir."

James watched through binoculars seeing the Commonwealth soldiers somewhat defeated hearing of their friends being attacked by General Anthony of the Martin Rangers. He remembered leaving the commonwealth soldiers a gift of booze as every man has a right to have a last drink before death. He then called over his old pal Leo. "So Jame's what's the plan?" Lieutenant Leo asked. Jame's put down the binoculars and said "In another hour when the moon is going down and most of the commonwealth soldiers are sleeping we'll have our rangers some of whom have night vision goggles now snipe all the guards. When that happen's we'll lead in our men go building by building killing the troops in their bed. Aside from there commanding officer who may have some valuable information for us. Oh and of course we can try to take female prisoners. But anyways prepare your boys I'll get Luke and his men ready, Also half of Brian's men will be with us to help clear he other half will guard Johnson just in case." Leo nodded then headed back to get his men ready. Jame's then turned back to the airport when a messenger approached. Jame's took the note and had a frown. [i] Those former NCR troops destroyed the bridge now how is he gonna get the good loot from all those "safe" merchant trade routes when we go on the offensive. He'll have to keep an eye on those people. [i]

When the time was ready Luke's men opened fire 10 silenced bullets and all the guards went down. While he and Leo's men went into the building's he left Brian's men outside to shoot any strays going by but also to silence the fight. Jame's and his men killed most of the males except for a few of the ones that seemed higher in terms of ranks while most of the women were captured but wounded. However he did take some casualties but nothing that couldn't be replaced. By the time the airport was taken the sun was rising and so was his flag Jame's smiled. Once all his men got into the airport he gave a speech "Men you did well fighting for the republic you've earned your reward. Have your way with the women." They cheered He left the men in the cells and even more surprising the highest ranking officer was a girl named Mena. He took her up to the tower and found out all he could after which he sent a letter back to the president and waited for his orders.

The airport is taken along with more gear,"prisoners" and very few casualties. They also have more artillery pieces available and are just waiting for future orders.

Operation: To Blunt A Spear - South of Goldendale

---

13:00

The afternoon sun lightly kissed Aesir's face, shading her ghostly white skin a sickly orange. She leaned out of the farmhouse window and aimed the heavy service rifle into the distance. It was all these NCR bastards carried, long distance shooting was particularly difficult with them, especially with her eyesight. She aimed down the sight of the gun and held her breath, Vanir sat at the window next to her, using her binoculars to spot, her hand fell down and Aesir shot into the daylight. The bark of the bullet was different than the residual sounds of fire fights in the distance, it broke the monotony.

The lone tan figure fell to their knees, grasping at their neck.

Notte ran out of the two story farmhouse the girls were stationed in to confirm the kill, it'd be the 1st of the hour, 17th of the day. That wasn't great, but then, they weren't working under great conditions. The NCR had some how managed to get the drop on them. Why hadn't they had anyone surveying the border? Where was the Intel? Where was she? Aesir reloaded the service rifle and got ready for another shot.

"Anything yet?"

"No...." Nari, one of the two twins who decided to follow her from Ghost Farm into the wastes, responded, "Nothing yet." she fiddled with the dial of the HAM radio, her slender white fingers looked as pale as soft bone, Aesir found herself enchanted by the soft 'click' of the turning dial and the static as it faded in and out. A snap from Vanir brought her back to reality-- back to the second story of an ill protected farmhouse in the middle of an unexpected assault.

"We got one, looks like 500 feet, 11 'o' clock."

Aesir's tired eyes grew focused as she looked down the sights of the rifle, she slapped herself a little to help wake up, "He alone?"

"Of course he's fucking alone-- I wouldn't want to waste your precious time," Vanir snapped back

"You alright, Vani?"

The slag peered angrily through her binoculars for a moment before conceding to a yawn, "Yeah, I'm... Just... tired--but don't let him get away!" She quickly recovered, "Quick!"

Aesir led the trooper with the rifle for a bit before taking another shot, he fell in a similar way to the last. 2nd of the hour, 18th of the day.

"Great..." Vanir rolled her eyes, "One less piece of shit out of a sea of fucking bullshit-- oh no, excuse me, bearshit." She stifled a yawn, "When are those assholes gonna get here with support?"

Aesir borrowed Vanir's binoculars to watch Notte dutifully dragging back the two NCR bodies, "Knowing Hathaway," she said, giving back the binoculars, "He'll probably send us a car, and bitch about having to give the muties that much..." Narfi and Nari let out dry chuckles at the attempt at humor, Vanir gave an exasperated groan and buried her head into her hands. Half asleep herself, Aesir snapped at Vanir, "Wake up, we gotta cover Notte."

---

16:15

Exhaustion had overcome Vanir and Narfi, neither of the two had gotten any sleep since Swooping Crane. Before they fell under, however, they had taken out enough NCR that each of the girls could disguise themselves in full unbloodied NCR garb. Aesir sat by the radio, the Nari and Notte took occasional potshots at lone troops passing by. They had to change their building to one further south.

Aesir was idly flipping through the possible frequencies for the radio when she heard the message; "*static*--is Major Thorne of *static* Mechanized *static* We will be available *static* to *static* with 8th *static* at approximately 1800 on *static* at *static* AWAY FROM ACTIVE *static* COMBAT *static* on the outskirts of *static* South Goldendale *static* R-repeat: This is *static**click*"

The mere mention of being taken into Goldendale proper, where guerrilla tactics would be more effective, was apparently enough to wake Vanir up, she was the first to respond.

"About fucking time!"

"Yeah." Aesir said, looking to the group, "Looks like you guys have a place to be."

Nari tilted her head, "'You guys?'"

She hoisted the service rifle over her shoulder, "Yeah..." she pulled the face wrap up to her nose, "I'm gonna head south, see what I can find out about... Intel... stuff."

"Well we're coming with you!" Was Vanir's immediate response.

Aesir held up her hand, as if to ward off the thought, "Nah, you guys need to help retake Goldendale-- don't wanna piss off Clearwater too much. I'm leaving you in charge, Vanir."

"But what if--"

"No." She moved to leave, "I'll see you guys later,"

"When?"

Aesir shrugged, a smile on her face, "I don't really know."