[u][b]Indianapolis International Airport - flightline[/b][/u]

Paladin-General Wilson pensively watched the Vertibirds, in close formation, lumber down the taxi-way. Overloaded with troops and supplies, vertical takeoff was not an option....to get airborne would require a traditional take-off, with rocket assist. Fortunately, the evolution had been practiced adequately in training. Lancer-Sergeant Kyle, their new member, had not done it in his time with the Eastern Order, but they had enough time to run him through the simulator a couple times and the Squadron Commander was confident he could handle it, given that he had more flight hours in Vertibirds than anyone else in the squadron. If Lancer-Paladin Morgan had faith in Kyle, Wilson was not inclined to question him either. 

The Vertibirds reached take-off position, and taxed out onto the runway. the first Vertibird, Morgan's, followed closely by the others in turn, throttled up to full power then once up to speed engaged the rocket motors, sluggishly taking to the air and after jettisoning the expended rocket motors, climbing and circling the airfield. Once all the Vertibirds were airborne, they maneuvered into formation and headed Northeast for Detroit. 

"This had better be worth it", Wilson thought grimly. His gut told him Hackett was making the right call, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Many of the men and women he had addressed at the briefings would never return, and he and they both knew it. Wilson also privately resented the leeway Barnaky gave the man, but he had to admit bringing the Lakemen into the Brotherhood had paid off handsomely, so he would just have to deal with it. He then turned to a aide, a young Scribe. "Tell Operations to inform Star-Paladin Hackett that Operation JUBILEE is Go".

"Yes, sir", said the aide, who passed on the order through his headset. He listened to the reply, nodding, then looked back at Wilson. "It is being done, sir", the aide replied. "Operations advises the U-2 is on station over Columbus and the feed is active. The Duty Officer is requesting you return immediately...she believes both you and the Legate need to see what we're getting."

[u][b]Operations Center - Ten minutes later[/b][/u]

Wilson, with a mixture of horror and fascination, watched the feed from the U-2, orbiting 70,000 feet above Ohio, on the main screen of the Operations Center. The video from the aircraft of the inferno below was akin to a vision of hell. He had, of course, been briefed by the Westerners on what they planned to achieve, but to truly understand it, one had to see it....and now he was seeing it happen. A massive firestorm had been ignited in the center of Columbus, and inexorably it spread out, engulfing smaller fires around it like a large blob of mercury absorbing smaller ones to become even larger. Before the Cult War, the Republic's civil government in Columbus would have had great difficulty coping with such a catastrophe, but that civil authority had been swept away by the Cult when they overran the city. The fires were raging completely unchecked, and would likely only be contained once there was nothing left for them to burn. The full story would not be told until the fires burned out and they could see what was left, of course, but the analysts all agreed that Columbus had effectively been destroyed....at a stroke rendering the Cult's victory over the IRD there a pyhrric one....it's only value now, for the foreseeable future, was it's strategic location, astride many of the routes into Cult territory proper. Data was also coming in on enemy troop concentrations, the Scourge of Columbus...already being called that by staffers...seemed to have thrown the lead elements of the Cult horde into disarray. This could also be used to their advantage. 

Wilson looked over to the Legate, standing next to him where they had just received the briefing on the initial Bombing Damage Assessment, to see him watching the screen intently just as he had been. Wilson wondered what he thought about it. The Westerners had clearly mastered the principles of Strategic Bombardment, a fact that had long term ramifications for the Legion, and the Midwestern Order as well. While elements of the Pre-War anti-air defense network around the Midwest's larger cities...Chicago, Omaha, St Louis, Wichita...had been at least partially reactivated due to the tensions with Texas over the Hoover Dam War, the Legion had no defense at all to a strategic bombing campaign. The Legate was no fool, Wilson was sure he immediately understood the potential danger. For that matter, he wondered what Barnaky thought. Wilson knew Barnaky was deeply suspicious of High Elder Gladstone's intentions, and whether he really wanted to end the divide between them or not. All he could hope was that Sentinel Haddad and the others they had connected to the Calculator over the years could keep him from doing anything rash, like the early days when he was alone with the Calculator, such as the heavy-handed policies that led to the MLA War. 

"Legate", Wilson said, "You had recommended earlier that we resume the march on Columbus without waiting for the Western Order's ground troops to arrive. In light of the effects the Scourge of Columbus is having on the enemy, I believe this to be the best course of action. I propose we resume the advance Eastward immediately."

"Also", Wilson added, "We can fly additional troops into Dayton to reinforce the troops from the Southern column who have moved up there from Cincinnati."   


[u][b]Command Bunker, Ruins of Grissom AFB, near Kokomo, Indiana[/b][/u]

Forty feet below the radioactive hellscape that once was Grissom AFB, in a cramped and fetid cable way, a pair of scribes  patiently worked, not allowing themselves to be distracted by either the near constant gunfire echoing down both ends of the cable way, or the slow ticking of their own suit's radiation detectors. It would be easier without the power armor, but as the detectors made clear, the rad exposure would kill them in as little as fifteen minutes. So they would have to accept the inconvenience. On the other hand, at least the suits kept the undoubtedly horrid stench out. 

After several hours, the scribes completed their work. One of them radioed in the completion of their task to his superiors. He received a curt acknowledgment and then they waited as the now repaired fiber-optic cable was tested. After a few minutes, which seemed to last forever, another message from Command came. 

"Objective complete", Command advised. "Secure covers and exfil down the north end of the cable way. Squad Charlie will escort you to extraction point."

With relief, the Scribes secured the heavy metal covers they had opened to access the cable, and once that task was complete they made their way north down the cable way towards the Knights waiting for them at the end. The weapons fire had slacked off, apparently the ferals had tired of throwing themselves at Gatling lasers. As they retreated, looking forward to getting out of this hellhole, the Scribe's leader thought to himself....why the hell does Offut need a landline to the old Site R nuclear C&C facility?  

[u][b]Republic Air Base Anchor Bay (Selfridge ANGB) [/b][/u]

"Thanks, Lieutenant", Corporal Winters said as the officer filled his outstretched cup with steaming hot coffee from a battered green thermos. "Any word from the front?"

"We're holding them along Eight Mile", Lt Griffin replied. The boys in Windsor are still holding the bridges....they don't seem to be listening to that traitor Stone anymore, either."

"Bastard!", Winters replied angrily. "Him, too? If I hadn't heard him on the radio myself, I wouldn't believe it! We've been betrayed by our own leadership, what do we do now?"

"Whatever it takes", Griffin replied. "We have to hold out until help arrives."

"Help from whom?", Winters exclaimed. "Half..."

"Corporal!", Greene's voice behind him cutting him off, "you gotta see this!"

Winters turned around, to face Private Green, who was looking out of the small observation post out over Anchor Bay as clouds of smoke billowed over the shoreline. 

"What the...", Winters said, as he grabbed the binoculars from the private, "..give me that!" He then began to scan the shore line, just as the first boats ran themselves aground and the landing gates dropped onto the beach. At first, he thought it was the Enemy, but the landing craft didn't look like the cobbled together junk they liked to use....they looked like purpose build landing craft. The Confederation? North Bay? 

As the troops surged off the craft, and clear of the smoke, Winters noticed the insignia on the chest of a soldier in power armor and realized it was neither.

It was the Brotherhood. Hundreds of them.  

"Shit!", Winters exclaimed as he whirled around and lunged for the field telephone and picked up the receiver. But before he could begin turning the crank, Griffin stepped forward and pushed the cradle back down with his finger. "we've got to call it away, sir....what are you doing?"

"This is not a secure line, corporal", Griffin replied coolly. "The enemy is probably listening to this circuit, and we would prefer this to be a surprise, yes?"

"You knew?", Winters sputtered.

"They contacted us a few hours ago", Griffin said. "I'm here to make sure you two don't do anything....rash." After gesturing at the Brotherhood troops advancing inland, he continued. "Look at it this way...the people who insisted most loudly how we must wage a Cold War against the Brotherhood are the same bastards who sold us out to the Enemy." He then held out his hand to Winters. 

"As you said, sir", Winters replied as he placed the receiver in Griffin's hand, "Whatever it takes..."