[u][b]Midwestern Brotherhood of Steel - 0300 CT (5:00 AM PT)[/b][/u]

[b]
Interstate 74, Illinois-Indiana Border (appx 10 miles East of Danville, Illinois)[/b]

Small crowds of civilians...some armed...stood on good vantage points along the edge of the town to watch the show. With the recent call-ups, and the general issue of weapons to Veteran's Clubs...not to mention the intermittent firing all day from the artillery positions in the fortifications ringing the town...they knew something big was coming, and what they saw before them proved them correct. Normally, the old Interstate was deserted, especially this time of night, except for the MP patrols, but now it was alive with a level of traffic not seen since long before any of them were born. Hours before, units of mounted Infantry had been spotted traveling the highway, now several massive Behemoths strode down both lanes, followed by columns of marching Infantry, APCs, smaller robots such as Pacification Units, and even a few Tanks. Behind them, were columns of trucks and horse-drawn vehicles, some pulling field pieces, then behind them the rear guard, more infantry backed up by Behemoths. Eventually, they disappeared to the east, and things returned to normal. The mood amongst the civilians as they returned to their homes was generally upbeat....at long last the Lord Paladin was doing something about that damned Cult. 


[u][b]Covington, IN - appx 0330[/b][/u]


Inquisitor Wilson, standing exposed from the wast up out of the Commander's Hatch of a APC, impassively glanced at a old Interstate sign as the vehicle rumbled by it. 

[b]Indianapolis- 80 mi. 
Cincinnati - 189 mi.[/b]

He'd likely see both cities eventually, but right now it was the settlement of Covington that demanded his attention. He spat orders to the driver through his helmet microphone, and the APC broke from the main formation and obediently took the off-ramp for Covington, followed by the other APCs and vehicles, not to mention robots, under his command. His mission was to secure the settlement, and oversee the process of integrating it...and it's people...into the Order's lands. Brother Martin's Missionaries had found this fertile ground, so they would have plenty of local help, but nothing could be taken for granted. The Cult was insidious, they undoubtedly had at least some followers here that needed to be purged before they could interfere in the war effort, not to mention other assorted Mutants that had to be rounded up as a matter of racial hygiene.

The column rumbled down the road, coming to a stop near the gates of the settlement, which occupied about a eight of the pre-war city limits. As the Pacification robots strode forward to screen, the Familiars dismounted their APCs and took up a defensive formation. When all was in readiness, Wilson turned on the APC's loudspeaker and spoke. 

"Attention people of Covington! I am Inquisitor Wilson, and I speak for the Brotherhood of Steel! Open your gates in the name of Lord-Paladin Barnaky!"

The gate promptly opened, and a tall, thin man with the air of a fanatic strode out. He was wearing a Combat armor chest plate over his rough Wastelander garb, he also wore a black armband with the symbol of the Brotherhood on it and had a IR beacon on a cord around his neck. He carried a AER-9 Laser Rifle by the barrel, which he raised over his head and waved excitedly. His headset crackled and a report came from his assistant inside the vehicle that telemetry from the Pacification Robots was a positive ID for Brother Simon, the Missionary assigned by the Office of State to Covington. 

"Praise be to Barnaky!", Simon shouted enthusiastically, "The Jubilee has come!"

Wilson called out a order for his troops to hold fire unless fired upon and climed out of the APC and then down the outside to reach the ground, he then approached the man. 

"Greetings, Brother Simon", Wilson said to the man, "What is the situation?"

"My people control the gates, the Sheriff's Office, and the Town Hall, Inquisitor", replied Simon. "Most of the people are with us....Raiders and the Cult have made this fertile ground for Barnaky's Word. There is a Cult cell here, but we've only identified two of them. We've arrested those most likely to be subversives, and posted guards on their property...they await your pleasure. I suggest you talk to the Town Whore, Betty....her information has proven most useful to us, she is responsible for what we have on the Cult cell. We captured one alive, the other shot himself to avoid arrest." He then added, "She'll need to be resettled once this town is purged....her cover was compromised, she lured the one we caught into a trap."

Prostitution was heavily frowned upon in Order lands, though [i]technically[/i] legal....if only to avoid forcing it underground. Discouraging their charges from plying the Trade was a significant part of a Block Warden's duties. To the Inquisition, prostitutes did have value as their clients would say the most amazing things to and around them. In the Wasteland, most women only did it out of desperation, such as feeding their children, and an offer of resettlement into Order lands where they could make an honest living and start over without the stigma of having been a prostitute usually quickly get them talking of their own volition. Those that withstood the careful screening tended to prove loyal citizens. 

"Make sure that appears in your report, Brother", Wilson said, "and I will see it done." As his men entered the settlement to take control over from the Missionary's Partisans, Wilson patted Simon on the back affectionately and added, "You've done well, Brother."   

[u][b]  
Evansville, IN[/b][/u]

A sizable naval force was assembled in the river just off the city. Four large river monitors, with numerous smaller patrol craft and a couple of rams, all post-war manufacture, ugly but brutally efficient. Towering over them all were two larger ships, clearly of a pre-war design. One had the number 325 painted on the sides of the hull at the bow. The other one closely resembled the first, but different in some details as if it were an imperfect copy. They sat at anchor, waiting. At 0300 precisely, a red flare went up from the shipyard. It was answered by a red flare from the lead monitor. The ships of the Brotherhood's new Ohio River Squadron then weighed anchor, and slowly increasing their speed to ten knots, began to steam upriver, behind a screen of patrol craft, with another group swinging into line behind them.   


[u][b]Bunker Alpha - 0600 CT (8:00 AM PT)[/b][/u]

In the busy Operations Room, the reports were coming in from the front. The Central Force was moving forward down I-74 without any significant opposition so far, just scattered Raider bands and a small war-band of Cultists that was quickly dealt with the Mounted Infantry screening the advance. The advance down I-70 was making reasonable progress, though the Raider bands in Terre Haute turned out to be stronger than expected, requiring deployment of two companies of Knights to spearhead a assault. Fighting was in progress but the commanders in the field expected resistance would be broken within twenty-four hours. The Southern force was making good progress, they were on schedule to reach Ferdinand about 1700. The Ohio River Squadron had reached Owensboro, KY and after a short and victorious naval engagement with a group of River Raiders had landed some infantry to clear out their nest...fighting was ongoing but the issue was not in doubt. In the North, Inquisition familiars, backed with troops from the Northern Reserve, were reducing resistance in Gary as the main force continued to advance. The fighting was fierce, but as the enemy had been pushed away from I-90 and I-94, they could not interfere with the Northern Force linking up at the junction between I90 and I-94 around 1000. Current estimates were that it would require two days to secure Gary, but the advance itself was on schedule.

[u][b]Offut AFB, Omaha - 0300 (8:00am PT) [/b][/u]

Three cargo aircraft, and a aerial tanker, took off from the airfield. The largest, a C-5 Galaxy, turned North, the other three West over Legion territory. Over New Mexico, after aerial refueling, the cargo planes parted company, one heading South towards Texas, one West towards the Mojave. the Tanker, it's job done, returned East and landed at Offut. Several hours later, the first cargo plane landed at it's destination, a airfield near Big MT held by the Van Graffs. The other took a route avoiding Texan territory, entering Angels of War airspace and flew to Brownsville, requesting landing instructions. 


[u][b]Arctic Haven Airspace, around 0500 Alaska Time (6:00 AM PT, 8:00 AM CT)
[/b][/u]
The massive C-5 cruised along at an altitude 0f 10,000 feet. The sun had still not risen, so the lights of the relatively few settlements in what once was Alaska stood out in the inky blackness. About 15 minutes from reaching their destination, the aircraft signaled on the frequency that had been provided to contact Arctic Haven's airfield. 

"Foxhound, this is Brotherhood Flight Charlie Five One", the aircraft signaled. "We are inbound, ETA 15 minutes. Request clearance to land and landing instructions, over."