On the foggy night of the Yellow Sea, an Aircraft Carrier belonging to the Imperial Ruthenian Navy was sailing on the calm seas. On the flight deck, flight and deck crews spurred on as they fulfilled their respective task.
One of them was a Wraith Pilot, Lieutenant Rasul Rustamev, who was enjoying the sea breeze kissing his face as he waited for his co-pilot, Lieutenant Medet Marlenev.
He watched as the scenery displaying the mechanism of the flight deck played before him. He can never get bored looking at how men and women coordinate with one another with trust and confidence so that pilots like him can efficiently execute the missions handed over to them.
"Lieutenant, sorry if I kept you for too long. I just went for a quick bite down in the mess hall because my stomach craves it," Medet said as he rubbed his belly with a satisfied look on his face.
"You don't have to explain everything to me, as long as you don't get late, it won't be a problem."
"Oh, Lieutenant, you're so kind! I'll treat you to vodka after this mission! Anyways, we are not going to blow up planes as we did in Tokyo right? We are going to bomb farmers…" he trailed off, finding their mission to be boring compared to their last mission. Heck, doing battle simulations was more exciting than their mission as they get to fight different warplanes driven by skilled pilots which gives it a challenge.
"The life of the Ruthenian Ambassador depends on how we execute our mission, Lieutenant Medet. If you think such a mission is boring then you applied for the wrong job."
"I'm just joking, Lieutenant. I didn't say that our mission for the day is boring…though not openly," he muttered.
"What did you say?" Rasul asked, his eyebrows raised at the sudden change of tone from Medet.
"No, I said nothing!" Medet fumbled his hands in front of Rasul, chuckling nervously. Then he suggested. "Why don't we head to our aircraft now? I'm sure everyone is waiting for us. After all, you're the one who is going to lead the squadron."
Rasul rolled his eyes as he accepted his suggestion. They walked across the flight deck and hopped into the Wraith.
They performed pre-flight checks, pushing buttons and flipping up switches on the terminal. Meanwhile, their attention was caught by ten men running towards the Black Stork helicopter.
"Aren't they the rescue team? So they are getting ready as well as huh without knowing how many people they are going to lift out of there," Medet commented.
"I'm also curious about that," Rasul said. "But didn't you hear the news, the ten great powers except the Ruthenia Empire are going to stay to fight in the International Legation Quarter? So I'd expect the numbers to be less."
"Who knows," Medet shrugged his shoulders. "Anyways I'm done on my part. How about you?"
"Me too, let's prepare for takeoff," Rasul said as he flipped a switch that connected him to the Aircraft Carrier Traffic Control. "This is Phantom 0 dash 2, requesting clearance."
"Copy Phantom zero one, you are now clear for departure. Good luck out there," the air traffic control officer granted.
"Let's go!"
The Wraith's front wheel was attached to the catapult system of the aircraft carrier. Seconds later, it slung the aircraft into the air.
They circled the aircraft carrier until the other eight Wraith Fighter aircraft took off from the flight deck.
Once everyone is in the air, Rasul and Medet with their fighter aircraft spearhead toward Beijing.
The estimated time of arrival is ten minutes. Rasul and Medet hoped that there will be something worth bombing on than a group of armed farmers.
***
Nine minutes later.
Back at the International Legation Quarter, things are looking bleak from the side of the eleven great powers as they are being overwhelmed by the firepower of the Boxers.
Even though the military guards came from the west whose reputation precedes all around the world for having technologically advanced weapons and training, they are being defeated in the exchange of bullets.
The reason is, the International Legation Quarter is not a military base but a place for foreign legation. It was only armed with military guards that carry small arms and rifles. Though there is heavy weaponry like machine guns, it's useless against the long-range artillery that the Boxers possessed.
Fortunately, for the side of the eleven great powers, the Ruthenian Special Forces came.
At first, there was confusion as the Ruthenian Special Forces were not wearing the uniform the military guards are familiar with. It was very alien, their guns, outfits, and eye goggles.
The Ruthenian Special Forces are not only equipped with FN Fal but they are also armed with an assortment of guns like the M249 light machine gun, FN Fal fitted with an M203 grenade launcher, and infrared laser sight.
Instead of firing their weapons in full auto, each Ruthenian soldier takes their time as they take aim to make their rounds count. Not only that, as they are equipped with night vision goggles, they can see clearly the concentrated beam of infrared lights coming out of their laser sight.
This gives them advantages on the battlefield as the Ruthenians Special Forces can see where their comrades are firing at.
As the siege continued, the Boxers, with their superior numbers rushed to the International Legation Quarter like ants. It was hard for the military guards to shoot them out as they run in zigzag patterns and are scattered.
Makarov arrived at the battlements of the Beijing Wall and tapped one of his men's shoulders.
"Strike package will arrive in one minute, did you find where their artillery is located?"
Makarov had to raise his voice as the sounds of gunshots, explosions, and constant shellings keep muffling his words.
"Yes sir! Two hundred fifty meters northwest, have a look!" His men handed him the night vision binoculars.
Makarov took it and peered through the binoculars. In his peripheral vision, he saw figures of men manning the artillery in a coordinated fashion. They looked trained, there's no way ordinary citizens that were handpicked by whoever the leader of the Boxers, can perform in a similar fashion to the trained artillery personnel.
Impressed that they got the skills, they still need to be destroyed to whittle down the bombardment.
"This is Alpha contacting Phantom zero one, we need a drop on the enemy position."
"This is Phantom Zero One, waiting for your mark, over."
A reply came from the radio.
"Copy that. Stand by," Makarov grabbed a laser pointer from his belt and pointed it out at the artillery positions. "Phantom Zero One, I just lazed the target, you are cleared hot!"
Upon saying that, a faint aircraft engine sound whispered overhead, like a grim reaper that's about to reap its victim.
From Rasul's point of view, he stared at the screen in front of him. It was a newly-installed laser illuminator, a new type of targeting system that the Air Force is adopting. As the Wraiths approach, they are receiving impulses from the laser pointer which is reflected on the screen like a blip.
"I have eyes on the target, missiles away," Rasul said as he pulled the trigger, releasing air-to-ground laser-guided missiles that continually corrected their course all the way down, honing in on the target.
The other Wraiths' fighter aircraft did the same as well, releasing their missiles from under their wings.
Moments later, the battle was put into a trance as everyone noticed a golden arrow streaking in the air and down to the ground.
An enormous explosion erupted like ripples behind the lines of the Boxers. The shockwave alone was enough to fill the entire area with dust, causing the military guards to cough.
"Hell yeah!" one of Makarov's men cheered.
"It was a hell of a fireworks display!"
The Wraith Fighter aircraft screamed overhead as they flew past them.
"Overlord enemy artillery is neutralized, send in the helicopters!"
"The helicopter is twenty minutes out to your position."
Although the original instructions were to bombard the Boxer's artillery when the helicopter arrives, seeing the situation on the ground calls for it.
Since the Boxer's artilleries are neutralized, the shellings stopped.
On the foggy night of the Yellow Sea, an Aircraft Carrier belonging to the Imperial Ruthenian Navy was sailing on the calm seas. On the flight deck, flight and deck crews spurred on as they fulfilled their respective task.
One of them was a Wraith Pilot, Lieutenant Rasul Rustamev, who was enjoying the sea breeze kissing his face as he waited for his co-pilot, Lieutenant Medet Marlenev.
He watched as the scenery displaying the mechanism of the flight deck played before him. He can never get bored looking at how men and women coordinate with one another with trust and confidence so that pilots like him can efficiently execute the missions handed over to them.
"Lieutenant, sorry if I kept you for too long. I just went for a quick bite down in the mess hall because my stomach craves it," Medet said as he rubbed his belly with a satisfied look on his face.
"You don't have to explain everything to me, as long as you don't get late, it won't be a problem."
"Oh, Lieutenant, you're so kind! I'll treat you to vodka after this mission! Anyways, we are not going to blow up planes as we did in Tokyo right? We are going to bomb farmers…" he trailed off, finding their mission to be boring compared to their last mission. Heck, doing battle simulations was more exciting than their mission as they get to fight different warplanes driven by skilled pilots which gives it a challenge.
"The life of the Ruthenian Ambassador depends on how we execute our mission, Lieutenant Medet. If you think such a mission is boring then you applied for the wrong job."
"I'm just joking, Lieutenant. I didn't say that our mission for the day is boring…though not openly," he muttered.
"What did you say?" Rasul asked, his eyebrows raised at the sudden change of tone from Medet.
"No, I said nothing!" Medet fumbled his hands in front of Rasul, chuckling nervously. Then he suggested. "Why don't we head to our aircraft now? I'm sure everyone is waiting for us. After all, you're the one who is going to lead the squadron."
Rasul rolled his eyes as he accepted his suggestion. They walked across the flight deck and hopped into the Wraith.
They performed pre-flight checks, pushing buttons and flipping up switches on the terminal. Meanwhile, their attention was caught by ten men running towards the Black Stork helicopter.
"Aren't they the rescue team? So they are getting ready as well as huh without knowing how many people they are going to lift out of there," Medet commented.
"I'm also curious about that," Rasul said. "But didn't you hear the news, the ten great powers except the Ruthenia Empire are going to stay to fight in the International Legation Quarter? So I'd expect the numbers to be less."
"Who knows," Medet shrugged his shoulders. "Anyways I'm done on my part. How about you?"
"Me too, let's prepare for takeoff," Rasul said as he flipped a switch that connected him to the Aircraft Carrier Traffic Control. "This is Phantom 0 dash 2, requesting clearance."
"Copy Phantom zero one, you are now clear for departure. Good luck out there," the air traffic control officer granted.
"Let's go!"
The Wraith's front wheel was attached to the catapult system of the aircraft carrier. Seconds later, it slung the aircraft into the air.
They circled the aircraft carrier until the other eight Wraith Fighter aircraft took off from the flight deck.
Once everyone is in the air, Rasul and Medet with their fighter aircraft spearhead toward Beijing.
The estimated time of arrival is ten minutes. Rasul and Medet hoped that there will be something worth bombing on than a group of armed farmers.
***
Nine minutes later.
Back at the International Legation Quarter, things are looking bleak from the side of the eleven great powers as they are being overwhelmed by the firepower of the Boxers.
Even though the military guards came from the west whose reputation precedes all around the world for having technologically advanced weapons and training, they are being defeated in the exchange of bullets.
The reason is, the International Legation Quarter is not a military base but a place for foreign legation. It was only armed with military guards that carry small arms and rifles. Though there is heavy weaponry like machine guns, it's useless against the long-range artillery that the Boxers possessed.
Fortunately, for the side of the eleven great powers, the Ruthenian Special Forces came.
At first, there was confusion as the Ruthenian Special Forces were not wearing the uniform the military guards are familiar with. It was very alien, their guns, outfits, and eye goggles.
The Ruthenian Special Forces are not only equipped with FN Fal but they are also armed with an assortment of guns like the M249 light machine gun, FN Fal fitted with an M203 grenade launcher, and infrared laser sight.
Instead of firing their weapons in full auto, each Ruthenian soldier takes their time as they take aim to make their rounds count. Not only that, as they are equipped with night vision goggles, they can see clearly the concentrated beam of infrared lights coming out of their laser sight.
This gives them advantages on the battlefield as the Ruthenians Special Forces can see where their comrades are firing at.
As the siege continued, the Boxers, with their superior numbers rushed to the International Legation Quarter like ants. It was hard for the military guards to shoot them out as they run in zigzag patterns and are scattered.
Makarov arrived at the battlements of the Beijing Wall and tapped one of his men's shoulders.
"Strike package will arrive in one minute, did you find where their artillery is located?"
Makarov had to raise his voice as the sounds of gunshots, explosions, and constant shellings keep muffling his words.
"Yes sir! Two hundred fifty meters northwest, have a look!" His men handed him the night vision binoculars.
Makarov took it and peered through the binoculars. In his peripheral vision, he saw figures of men manning the artillery in a coordinated fashion. They looked trained, there's no way ordinary citizens that were handpicked by whoever the leader of the Boxers, can perform in a similar fashion to the trained artillery personnel.
Impressed that they got the skills, they still need to be destroyed to whittle down the bombardment.
"This is Alpha contacting Phantom zero one, we need a drop on the enemy position."
"This is Phantom Zero One, waiting for your mark, over."
A reply came from the radio.
"Copy that. Stand by," Makarov grabbed a laser pointer from his belt and pointed it out at the artillery positions. "Phantom Zero One, I just lazed the target, you are cleared hot!"
Upon saying that, a faint aircraft engine sound whispered overhead, like a grim reaper that's about to reap its victim.
From Rasul's point of view, he stared at the screen in front of him. It was a newly-installed laser illuminator, a new type of targeting system that the Air Force is adopting. As the Wraiths approach, they are receiving impulses from the laser pointer which is reflected on the screen like a blip.
"I have eyes on the target, missiles away," Rasul said as he pulled the trigger, releasing air-to-ground laser-guided missiles that continually corrected their course all the way down, honing in on the target.
The other Wraiths' fighter aircraft did the same as well, releasing their missiles from under their wings.
Moments later, the battle was put into a trance as everyone noticed a golden arrow streaking in the air and down to the ground.
An enormous explosion erupted like ripples behind the lines of the Boxers. The shockwave alone was enough to fill the entire area with dust, causing the military guards to cough.
"Hell yeah!" one of Makarov's men cheered.
"It was a hell of a fireworks display!"
The Wraith Fighter aircraft screamed overhead as they flew past them.
"Overlord enemy artillery is neutralized, send in the helicopters!"
"The helicopter is twenty minutes out to your position."
Although the original instructions were to bombard the Boxer's artillery when the helicopter arrives, seeing the situation on the ground calls for it.
Since the Boxer's artilleries are neutralized, the shellings stopped.
