(S) Fallout: Black-hawk down

New Jersey, 2016, 1733hrs;
5 km off-shore from Jersey City.
The Invincible-class battlecruiser, Albion, stretched over 600 metres long, 200 wide and 80 tall. Like all other battlecruisers, Albion boasted a sleek hull and a tall control tower. Set upon the immense deck, were 12-inch guns set apart at regular intervals. However, it was at the control tower where the main, long-ranged, sea-to-land guns were housed. 4 17-inch guns individually fitted with 3 cannons, were mounted in front of the control deck. The radar towers based on the top of the control tower provided both active and passive sonar. On the deck itself, crew men could be seen tending to the many aircraft stationed there with side-elevators ambulating from the lower deck, carrying cargo and weapon caches. Towards the front of the vessel, a black helicopter gunship readied for lift-off. Despite its sleek design, it carried several missiles and a built-in machine gun with a radar dish attached near the top, directly under the intermeshing rotors.

The US Fleet had recently engaged the USSR naval forces and sufficed to say, both sides suffered heavy casualties. The fleet had pulled back to Long Island-just off New York- and were at present, rebuilding and rearming at one of the many naval bases situated there.

Fortuitously, USNF-Albion had remained unscathed and was currently the only fully-operating cruiser in the fleet. As such, many aerial missions were being conducted with it as home base.

The setting sun cast an amber glow upon the massive structure, framing it in a metallic lustre.

“Black-hawk fourty-niner, requesting launch clearance, over.” Radioed the pilot of the Tiger UHT Gunship.

“This is Control. Black-hawk fourty-niner, you are clear to launch. Godspeed." Droned the flight controller, releasing the gear lock on the gunship wheels.

Controlling the collective, the Gunship pilot slowly increased his altitude. Inside the cockpit, he was accompanied by the co-pilot and also gunner of the attack copter. He flicked a switch located amongst a plethora of others on the overhead control board, waiting as the landing gear folded back into the copter.

He pushed the cyclic, the joystick controlling the direction of movement, front and the helicopter pitched forwards, moving in the general direction of Jersey City, New Jersey. The rotors chopped at the dusk air, emitting a low-whoosh at so fast a rate then the sound just meshed together in a constant thump.

New Jersey had fallen almost three weeks ago to the invading USSR forces. Atlantic City, Oceanic City and Jersey City had perished. Of the 3 cities, only 5 bio-domes remained, sheltered and hidden from the invaders and they all were situated in Jersey City.

Black-hawk fourty-niner was the reconnaissance chopper sent to investigate the extent of USSR presence in Jersey City and was to report and photograph any military installations and concentrations within the city limits. The mission was extremely hazardous and only the best pilot had been chosen to carry it out.

The best pilot was a female and it was Diana Sanchez.

She slowly accelerated towards the shore, tilting the collective so that the Tiger was flying under the radar. The sea reflected the rays of the setting sun, sending up a stunning array of light into the cockpit. Irritated, she flicked yet another switch and a hidden section of the cockpit glass slid up to cut the glare, imposing a light shade within the compartment.

New Jersey, 2016, 1750hrs;
The sleek, black helicopter hovered slowly over the bay of Jersey City. The pilots within scanned the immediate area for any hostilities, at the same time utilizing the installed radar. It was safe.

She stepped on the right pedal located at the bottom of the pilot’s seat, causing the nose of the craft to yaw in that direction, pushing down on the cyclic, she continued forward, covering the 9km-wide city in a search grid-pattern. Two hours of searching yielded no fruit and Diana was starting to get complacent.

Pulling down on the torque power level, she shot through heedlessly towards the centre of the city.

Upon arriving, she stumbled right over an encampment of soldiers set up amongst a series of streets. Some were milling about tanks and erected campfires whilst others were gathered under a camouflaged tent that looked to serve as their centre of operations. All activity stopped as the surprised soldiers stared up into the late-afternoon sky at the Tiger Gunship.

“Oh damn!” She cried.

“Are you taking this?!” demanded Diana, glancing over at the co-pilot who was already snapping pictures off in the seat behind her.

The soldiers in the camp had raised their voices and started pointing into the sky. An officer ran out of the tent, stared at the helicopter and starting barking orders in quick succession. The soldiers immediately sprung into action. Some started running towards the tanks whilst others quickly brought forward a rocket launcher.
But Diana was one step ahead of them. Pitching backwards, she reversed the copter and swung the yaw around, accelerating. Taking quick aim, she disabled the tanks of the front-runners, opening fire from the machine gun. The Tiger pitched forwards as the armour-piercing rounds cut a swath of destruction throughout the camp, blowing apart humvees and apartment buildings alike. The exploding concrete ricocheted throughout the streets, tearing through fleeing soldiers and embedding themselves into nearby tanks.

“Rocket, 4 o’clock!” shouted the co-pilot, doubling up yet again as a spotter.
Diana simultaneously raised the collective and stepped on the left cyclic pedal. The helicopter veered upwards and to the left, narrowly escaping the fired projectile by inches. The heat of the rocket seared the rear of the tail rotor, causing the body paint to peel off.

She turned the yaw clockwise, and pitched the Tiger forwards, the nose almost perpendicular to the ground. From her altitude, she unhooked the catch on her control stick and toggled the weapons rack. Immediately, she let loose a barrage of Hellfire missiles. Highly directional, they were aimed towards the command post of the encampment as well as the surrounding radio transmitters. More explosions rocked the surrounding area as the Hellfire missiles exploded in a conflagrant blast of scorching heat and stunning force.

“Missiles 9 and 4 o’clock!” yelled the co-pilot.

Diana deployed the craft’s chaff and slammed down on the collective.

The Tiger dived several metres and hovered.

Beside it, 2 streaks of missiles flashed past the cockpit, speeding straight towards the chaff. The resultant explosion rocked the chopper, sending it flying several metres as Diana fought to gain control of the craft.

Below, two sets of half-tracks rolled into view from adjoining streets. Their mounted anti-air guns rose towards the chopper and simultaneously started firing. Diana had only a momentary opening to avoid the volleys of flak and she took it. Diving below the intended detonation height of the anti-air guns, she maxed out the torque levers on the twin turbines and managed to slingshot her way through the rain of flak. Angling back around, she switched to the armour-piercing guns and opened up on the street below. She swung the yaw left and right, avoiding the oncoming fire. Streaks of bright light whizzed past the chopper as the anti-air rounds shot by harmlessly.

Swooping low, the Tiger tore into the half-tracks, instantly disabling one of them. As she swung up and out, the remaining half-track with a little fight left within it caught the craft on its rear rotor. The impact swung the chopper into a tight swing. With the rear rotors disabled, Diana was unable to counter the torque output of the main rotors, continuing to swing helplessly in arcs, angling towards the city street.

Before she crashed, the best chopper pilot in the US airforce screamed out her final transmission to the USNF-Albion.

“BLACK-HAWK FOURTY-NINER DOWN! REQUESTING ATTILERY BARRAGE ON TARGET COORDINATES, 763, 394! I REPE...” a loud crash cut off her final words, sending the channel into a burst of static.

New Jersey, 2016, 1810hrs;
Bruised and bleeding, Diana half-crawled, half-dragged herself out of the shattered cockpit, the limp form of the co-pilot was slouched over the backseat. From his chest protruded a large shaft that had separated from the tail boom.

A wave of immense relief flooded her as she knew she had narrowly escaped death. Pulling on her last reserves of strength, she collapsed face-up onto the city street, staring into the blood-red sky.

Her jubilance faltered, for arching high up in the sky, was the artillery shells from the USNF-Albion’s 17-inch guns, making their slow decent onto the city.
Wave after wave of incendiary bombs filled the heavens as they fell towards the USSR encampment

And also, towards her.