Chapter 190

Goronak

In mass, eighty UH-60 Blackhawk's and UH-47 Chinook's rose from the tarmac of the NATO forward air base. Packed inside each of these helicopters were the men of 2nd Brigade, 101st Air Assault Division. Using the time honored practice of vertical envelopment, the fighting men of the 101st rode into battle, towards a contested landing zone. Armed and ready, the men were prepared to perform their duty by meeting their countries enemies head on. Many of the men chatted amongst themselves, hoping to keep the mood light in anticipation of the coming combat action.

"Are you taking notes Katz?" Specialist Byron asked over the roar of the rotors.

"Just writing down a few ideas is all." Katz replied.

"Oh, this I've got to hear. Ideas about what exactly?" Byron asked.

"Nothing important." Katz replied guardedly.

"You're not getting off that easy. Spill it!" Byron demanded.

"If you must know, for a story I'm working on." Katz conceded.

"Got to give me more than that bro." Byron argued.

"It's a Battlestar Galactica crossover with Wormhole Xtreme." Katz stated.

"Writing a book?" Byron asked.

"Not exactly. In my spare time I write fan fiction." Katz explained.

"Why in the hell would you do that? Nobody reads fan fiction! Besides, who would want to read a story about a bunch of people that travel through a wormhole with a team of a sarcastic Colonel, a geeky archeologist, a hot physicist, and your friendly neighborhood alien? Be real bro." Byron protested.

"Sure know a lot about it for someone that denies watching it." Katz argued.

"Whatever bro." Byron demurred.

"Yeah ok. Like a long game of Halo, right?" Katz asked sarcastically.

In stacked formation, the helicopters crossed over the high summits laid out below them. On the terrain below, the infantry soldiers saw clearly the NATO fire bases ringing the ridges. Nerves were on edge as weapons already checked were checked again. Nervous energy can be a soldier's best friend and worst enemy. Five more minutes and they would be on the ground.

On the periphery of the Jaffa encampment, AH-64 Longbow Apache's unleashed a torrent of chain gun fire. Simultaneously, 2.75 inch Zuni rockets were let loose. The lethal hail of death and destruction was more meant to drive the Jaffa. Unknown to them, they were being herded away from the incoming assault forces landing zone. Artillery in the distance remained quiet for now.

FB-302's operating in the close air support role screamed over the sprawling encampment. Each was armed with a combination of Small Diameter Bombs, and antipersonnel cl.u.s.ter munitions. Pickling off their loads in turn, the agile fighter bombers joined the symphony of destruction that charred the soil beneath them. Lacking air superiority, the Jaffa found themselves caught in an unforgiving maelstrom that consumed man and machine, flora and fauna.

Each individual explosion caused the soil to shudder. Regrouping in small numbers, the individual groups of Jaffa warriors found themselves covered in blood and sweat, grim and grit. Bits of pulverized rock filled their parched mouths, while fear fueled adrenaline burned through their veins. No amount of training could prepare a mortal man for this environment. Shrieks of terror and agony filled screams were drowned out only by the continuous procession of explosions and aircraft tearing through the sky.

The herding that the Tauri hoped for was taking shape. As helicopters and fighter bombers pummeled the valley floor, a few level headed Jaffa took note that very little enemy fire was directed at the portion of the blazing encampment nearest the mountains. Overcome with a herd mentality, the small groups of warriors soon grew in size. A mass exodus towards the mountains was their only hope. While it was known that the Tauri army lay in the mountains, that battle was preferable to an unwinnable one against the forces facing them from the air.

Swooping in low, the helicopters of the air assault sped towards their landing zone. Door gunners on each bird opened up on targets of opportunity with their M-134 electrically driven Gatling guns. Staff weapon fire streaked through the vibrant blue sky towards the oncoming Blackhawk's and Chinook's. Some were damaged, but none destroyed. Touching down in stacks of ten aircraft apiece, soldiers poured out. Falling to their stomachs in a prone position, the soldiers laid down weapons fire towards the retreating Jaffa in the distance. When the last of the soldiers was on the ground, distant artillery pieces opened up with a rolling and thunderous boom.

From the glider bay of one of the crippled Ha'tak that littered the now ruined temples of Moloc, three gliders took flight. Climbing rapidly, they overshot the FB-302's conducting their bomb runs. Despite that fact, the FB-302's swiftly advanced to full power to escape their pursuers. Calls quickly went out to the command and control jumper requesting fighter support. These calls would not go unanswered.

Receiving the alert, two F-302's standing combat air patrol high above altered their course to intercept. Belonging to VF-103, these 302's stood out with their black tails decorated with skull and crossbones. Bearing the call sign Victory, the men of the Jolly Rogers moved swiftly. Before the three gliders knew they were being hunted, a single AIM-120 AMMRAAM missile streaked towards them from the trailing Jolly Roger. Traveling at five times the speed of sound, the AMMRAAM covered the distance quickly. In a ball of flame, the glider and its pilot meet their end. Falling to the ground below, the fiery wreckage joined the carnage that days ago had been a thriving encampment.

Seeing the fate of their wingman, the remaining two gliders began a steep climb. Not wanting to overtake their prey, the pursuing 302's opened their speed brakes. Pitching up, the Jolly Rogers slid neatly onto the gliders 'six'. Too close for AMMRAAM's, Victory lead let loose a single AIM-9X heat seeking missile. As the missile left the launch rails of the 302, one of the gliders advanced to full power and dove towards the deck. Five seconds later, the AIM-9 contacted the targets fuselage and detonated, blotting it from the sky.

The sole remaining glider roared over the valley floor at high speed towards the mountains. Believing that salvation lay in reaching the towering peaks, the pilot pressed on. Seeing the target track advancing in that direction, the 302's began their climb back to higher altitude. In the distance among the mountains and treetops, the phased array radar of one of several Patriot antiaircraft batteries illuminated the oncoming target. Turning a simple key, the soldier manning the fire control station switched the Patriot over to fully automatic mode.

Arraigned around the phase array radar lay the box containers that made up the muscle of the Patriot system. Each of these containers housed four of the lethal ground to air munitions. From the fire control station, an electrical impulse raced through the cables connecting to these containers. Two seconds after receipt of this signal, a high thrust rocket motor ignited and pushed the missile free of its resting place. Moving faster than the human eye could track, Patriot rose towards the heavens. Nosing over at forty thousand feet, Patriot then began a terminal dive towards its target and the ground below. The glider pilot never knew his life was ending as the missile slammed bodily into his low flying craft, resulting in it, he, and the glider leaving a large flaming hole in the mountainside.

In the Jaffa encampment perimeter among the explosions, the dead, the dying, and the terrified, a long figure walked unseen by any around him. Witness to many battlefields in his life, Bra'tac could clearly see that this battle belonged to the Tauri. Seeing so many Jaffa run, he could not help but wonder where the discipline that Jaffa are ingrained with had gone. Looking around, his heart sank seeing the dead and dying. A single tear rolled down the features of his bearded face.

"This must end here." Bra'tac said more to himself than anything.

With a thought, Bra'tac was instantly transported fifty yards in front of the front row ranks of retreating Jaffa. Beside him stood the familiar form of a Milky Way model stargate, with an already established wormhole. The ranks of the retreating Jaffa saw this sudden arrival, and recognized a face that could not possibly be standing there. This dead man had come, and with him brought an active gate. What the Jaffa did not notice was the sudden halt of the sounds of war. Explosions, gunfire, aircraft; the noises were no longer filling the air.

"Come my brothers! If you wish to live, step through the gate. Those that do not will surely perish." Bra'tac stated clearly.

Not one of the Jaffa gave a second thought that despite their distance from Bra'tac; they could all hear him as if he were speaking directly into their ear. Hearing his words, it was if their wounds no longer slowed them. They felt a sense of renewed hope that grew with each step that brought them closer to the gate. Of the forty thousand Jaffa that had called this camp home, a scant six thousand made it through the gate. Where the wormhole led, the Jaffa had no clue. As the last warrior escaped into the gate at a run, both the gate and Bra'tac vanished into thin air. At that instant the sounds of war once again filled the air.

On the periphery of the camp sitting in the front seat of an Apache, the gunner was forced to blink twice. Looking around, the young Warrant Officer began to panic a bit.

"What the hell?" The gunner asked into the intercom.

"What's the matter guns?" The pilot asked in reply.

"Look around! Their gone!" The gunner exclaimed.

"What are you talking about?" The pilot demanded.

"All of them! Every bad guy down there just vanished into thin air! One minute they were running, and the next second they just weren't there!" The gunner shouted.

"Um, yeah. We better call this in." The pilot muttered.