NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This story is related to Only the Bad News (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=120729&postdays=0&postorder=asc&start=0) and A New Dawn (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=109656&postdays=0&postorder=asc&start=0). Some of the characters that will appear here were introduced in one of those two topics, so check back if you're not sure about something.

IC:

The First Day...

Academy of Extraphysical Studies
Outside Loren, in eastern Glorious Humanity
10:00 AM

The two chess players were once again seated at their board, engaging in the game again. Today, it appeared the woman had her touch back, if the number of taken pieces on her side of the board was any indication. Or maybe she was just reading minds again.

As usual, they were discussing while they played.

"You think they've noticed yet?" the man asked, moving a Pawn. He was fairly tall, strong and well-built, with black hair and bright blue eyes. He seemed rather friendly at first glance with the way his mouth always was a little turned up at the corners, as if he knew something funny that no one else did. That wasn't too far from the truth.

The woman moved a Bishop. "Three messages by last count. The last one said that if the Corp didn't answer Army representatives were going to be sent to find out what we're doing." She was very, very beautiful, with shoulder-length honey blond hair and a figure to die for. Her eyes spoiled her appearance though. Unlike the man's friendly demeanor, the woman's green orbs looked as hard as emerald, and there was a hint of something malicious behind them.

"Fun." He moved a Knight to protect the Pawn. "About time we got their attention."

"Truly," she agreed. Her Queen slid out to cover the Bishop. "What are we going to say when they get here?"

"We'll tell them why we're not answering of course," he replied. "In terms they will understand."

*************************************************************

Council Room
Dulles, Glorious Humanity
Same time

"Three messages, three big fat nothings," General Herbert Ablegard was annoyed. "The mindbenders aren't answering the assemble order." He was referring to Glorious Humanity's training wargame, FALCON, which was supposed to be beginning soon. As part of the military, the Psi Corp was supposed to train as well, relaying messages and repelling fake missiles and large weapon strikes, just like they would do for real on a real battlefield. The Army, Air Force, Navy, and Psi Corp were all supposed to be participating, fighting simulated battles with each other.

But the psychics weren't answering. Three messages had been sent by radio communications, no response. An attempt to raise them over conventional phone lines had gotten a "number cannot be reached" notice. Even the psychics in the capital claimed to have no luck raising their brethren at the Academy. It was as if the Psi Corp's home and training center had dropped into a black hole. So Ablegard was sending physical people to find out what was going on.

"Probably just something wrong with their equipment," General Allean Hanoway offered. She was the Navy's supreme commander. Her offered explanation had a tinge of disbelief to it. The Psi Corp's communications hardware was top of the line, and even if all the electronics had broken the other telepaths should have been able to reach out with their minds. The other people in the room, President Mark Albert, General Florence Washington of the Air Force, Minister of International Relations Frank Pierce, Minister of Internal Security Paul Brooks, and Director of Military Intelligence Harold Fox, could not offer any better ideas.

"When are your people leaving, Herb?" Albert inquired.

"They're already on their way," Ablegard answered. "Dispatched from Degrass Base an hour ago. We sent one more message to inform the Academy that they're coming. Assuming the Academy is listening," he added darkly.

*************************************************************

The Academy

A polite knock on their door made the chess players look up from their game. "Enter," the man said.

Another man entered, a younger one who looked to be just coming out of his teens. He saluted the chess players. "Another transmission from Dulles. The military investigators are on their way."

The chess players both nodded. In fact, nothing was broken at the Academy, save for the normal chain of command. Normally messages would have been instantly relayed to the instructors and Academy heads, who would've sent a response back to the Army HQ. Of course, normally a lot of things worked differently.

When we get through, the man thought to himself. Normal is going to have a whole new definition. The woman caught that thought and smirked softly.

The man winked at her, then stood up from the chessboard. "It's time."

Office for Metasensory Perception, DA

The cold, black building was old. In fact, it was older than most other buildings in the city, it had even survived the civil war. Only few knew that it was a monument of that war, when rogue telepaths (at that time a minority) tried to change the course of the nation... They had failed, yet they had succeeded.

Of course, nowadays, there was no real need for the office, since the programs had been advanced far enough, the genetic selection and manipulation had been perfected in ways that basically everyone born Angstian was a telepath.

It had come with a price, though, since a disease that had never been understood killed all the more advanced forms... Telekinetics. Only a few of them, less than a hundred, slept in their cyrogenic tubes, beneath the surface, covered by hundreds of meters of earth.

In any case, the office, once being responsible for the corps, had been reformed once they managed to change 100% of the population. Now it was supposed to be informed on metasensory affairs outside of DA... Basically a job of the foreign office, perhaps soldats, but in DA, where everyone betrays everyone else, it wasn`t exactly unusual that one job was done by half a dozen different organisations. Not to mention the many, many suborganisations of the corporations...

Inside the building, along the corridors of stone and marble, partly covered with bioorganic structures wherever it seemed to be useful (Although the aesthetic sense of the people working in the building struggled with accepting it), people worked.

Or not.

As a matter of fact, they rarely worked. Not that there wasn`t work to do, there were enough of their kind, of of kindred kinds in the world, but...

Well, they were lazy. A few contacts with Menelmacar, regarding some deals with defences against telepathic attacks, had been the most recent events. Then there was some trouble with United Indiastan. And that was all.

However, occasionally, some news got through, like, this day, a message:

Glorious Humanity has Telepaths.

Of course, it wasn`t overly important.

Perhaps they would make contact in the future, try to build a friendship...

But that would have time.

Probably.

ooc: This has been a glorified tag by... me.

Academy of Extraphysical Studies
11:15 AM

The Academy was a walled compound housing several buildings. On the east side was the student housing, two large but unimpressive dorm buildings. Unispired concrete layer cake, with few decorations. Across the central courtyard from those were the instructor's quarters. While noticeably nicer on the outside, with wood decorations and the odd statue, the instructor's quarters were also concrete, four stories of it. Arguably the nicest buildings in the area were the classrooms and training centers, three buildings of plaster and glass that looked like school buildings the world over. In the center of the complex was the courtyard, a beautifully landscaped area of grass and trees, with cobblestone paths leading from building to building. Psychics could always be found here, even at night, strolling the area or talking in small groups or sitting by themselves reading or practicing.

Despite all the beauty though, the man couldn't help comparing the overall feel of the place to a prison.

An unbarred archway lead out onto the highway the Academy was connected to, and right now as he and the woman approached the archway along with a pack of others he could see the military vehicles approaching. They were still a hundred yards away, but the bright near-noon sun beating directly down on them etched them sharply against the roadway.

The man's party stopped just inside the archway, standing the shade of the Academy walls. The walls were very nicely decorated, designed to look ornamental, but the man resented them nonetheless. Though they did nothing really substantial, they served to enhance the prison-like feel of the Academy to him. They reminded him that he was very different from other humans. That part didn't bother him, because he knew he was different. He was better. What bothered him was the way the walls also seemed to indicate that because he was better, he should be shut away from the rest of humanity, imprisoned as a curiousity.

The military vehicles stopped in front of the arch. Humvees. Ten men got out of the three vehicles and approached the group of psychics by the gate. The man noted with narrowed eyes that one man stayed behind in each Humvee, manning the large gun on the top.

Do they know? Do they suspect? No, no they couldn't. They couldn't possibly know what was coming. They were just being paranoid, as usual. The man almost smiled. Today they would get to justify their paranoia.

The soldier who took the lead of the military group had Captain's stripes on his uniform. The man stepped forward to greet him. "Good day, sirs. I am junior instructor Raphael Sader. This is Melissa Holmes." The woman stepped forward as she was introduced, offering a smile that didn't reach the emeralds in her eyes. The rest of the group of psychics hung back. "We've been expecting your arrival."

"Well, apparantly you are getting messages after all," the Captain replied. "Edmund Montgomery, Captain, Glorious Humanity Army." He tossed off a quick salute. The psychics didn't return it. "Anyway," Captain Montgomery continued after a moment, though his mouth twitched a little at the disrespect. "I'm here because you've been real quiet lately. Messages are going unanswered. Are you having technical difficulties?"

"No," Sader answered. "No, we are not. Everything is working properly. All operators are healthy. There is nothing wrong."

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to double-check that," Montogomery told him. He paused to wipe his brow. Though the rainforests that used to dominate this region had been cleared away many, many years ago, the tropical sun that had fueled their growth remained, as hot as it had ever been. Sader almost pitied the Captain for his body-covering dress uniform, dark green in color. The Psi Corp's gray uniforms were made of a much lighter weight material.

"And I'm afraid that your request is denied," Sader replied.

"What?" Montgomery was clearly taken aback. "Why? Where are the senior instructors and the Academy heads?"

"They are-" out of the corner of his eye Sader saw the corner of Holmes' mouth twitch. "-indisposed right now."

"Ouch," Montgomery said. "I am sorry to hear that." Sader could see he didn't buy it. More paranoia. "Well, at any rate, it doesn't matter. I've got orders signed by Colonel Stanzer at Degrass to inspect your facility for any... problems. I understand that Stanzer got his orders from General Ablegard himself."

Sader didn't miss the implied warning. "That's nice," he replied, putting on a smile. "However, I'm afraid that Army personnel cannot enter the Academy right now. Truthfully, we don't really want you around."

Montgomery's eyes narrowed as he caught Sader's implied meaning and warning. "Look boy, I don't care what stunt you think you're pulling, but you will let my men and I in now. If I'm forced to report back that the Psi Corp are resisting inspection, the next bunch that comes here are not going to be as nice as I am."

"Look sir," Sader imitated Montgomery's tone almost perfectly. "I am telling you that you are not entering the Academy. That is all there is to it." His hands were clasped loosely behind his back, his posture relaxed, like he wasn't worried at all.

"That's it," Montgomery took a step forward. "Where are the Academy heads? I don't care if they're puking up their guts, I am going to speak to them now!" He took another step forward, and then stopped in his tracks. Literally. Suddenly he could not move a muscle.

Sader smiled politely, his eyes glinting. "I do believe you have worn out your welcome, Captain Montgomery. Perhaps it is time you left." He was standing the same way, apparantly not having done a thing.

"Release me," Montgomery growled, although he was suddenly not nearly as confident as he'd been.

"With pleasure," Sader answered, and then Captain Montgomery was thrown fifteen feet backwards, over the heads of his startled men. Sader still hadn't moved anything more than an eyebrow. The soldiers gaped in shock, then reacted a second later. They were all carrying sidearms, and these weapons came whipping out of holsters as the Humvees' big guns swung towards the psychics.

"Tsk, tsk, so violent," Sader said in a clinical tone. "I didn't actually hurt him."

"Alright smartass, hands where we can see them!" Montgomery was picking himself up. "You have gone too fucking far!"

"I think not," Sader replied.

The soldiers took a threatening step forward, then Sader inclined his head slightly. The other psychics in the group, the ones hanging back, stepped up to stand just behind him. Montgomery's eyes widened as he saw their badges. With the exception of Holmes, the entire group around the arch were telekinetics.

"Last warning," Montgomery said, though his voice was wavering now.

"Noted," Sader said. He nodded very slightly, and the soldiers gaves startled cries and yelps as their weapons were jerked from their hands. A couple made dives after their flying guns, while others grabbed for knives or put up their fists. A moment later though, they all froze, as they stared down the barrels of their own firearms, held on them by invisble hands. The Humvee gunners also voiced surprise as they were dragged out of the vehicles and hurled roughly to the ground beside the others, then similarly stripped of their pistols.

"You will leave." All trace of humor or friendliness was gone from Sader's voice. "Now. You are no longer welcome in this place. The Psi Corp is no longer answering to your authority. Run back to your master, dogs."

Montgomery considered the situation, then nodded slowly. "Fine. We'll go. You have no idea what you've just done." He barked a curt command to his men, and the whole group walked back to their Humvees. The telekinetics continued to point their stolen guns at the vehicles until the soldiers had driven off.

It wasn't always fun.

Then again, 'fun' was not the reason one became a battlemage.

But at least he got to see the world, and whenever he was back home, he was a man of stature and respect.

Fact was, that some of the people born under the Corporate flag just had certain talents. Just like others have a natural ability to play football, lead companies or comprehend complex mathematical problems, others had a talent for those things that most people would call magic. Of course, the battlemage elders and mentors knew that this 'magic' was merely an increased use of the mind's potential, combined with intense forms of concentration and interaction with the surrounding environment. Unfortunately, these feats were not found in just anyone, and searching and finding those individuals amongst the population that did have the gift, always took so much time.

Eventually, he had been found. Originally, he had been trained as an engineer. His first mission was a station in Konania, where the Corporation was drilling oil for the government. Just before an accident with an exploding storage tank, he had gotten what he at the time called a gut feeling. This allowed him to get his people out in time, saving the lives of two fellow engineers and eleven workers.

The next day, a man dressed in dark blue and white had visited him...the battlemage attached to the military elements guarding their operation. Some tests had followed, and less than a week later, he was knocking on the gates of New Haven Academy, home of the battlemages.

Years of training had followed. Battlemages were essentially elementalists, wielding a highly developed arsenal of 'spells' they could employ to manipulate their surroundings. But centuries ago, foreign influences from SFN allied nations had enriched the programs. Martial arts, telekineses, telepathy and other more abstract forms of the practice were introduced into the training programs, and he had studied them all.

Eventually, it appeared he had talent to become a telepath-elementalist. After finishing his studies at New Haven, he had become part of the battlemage's intelligence network. Wherever significant telepathic activity appeared, battlemages from the Corporation were stationed near, to monitor ongoing events and see if anything useful could be learnt.

He was now in Glorious Humanity, chasing down rumours of a Telepath Academy in the region. Using his abilities, he had extracted tiny bits of information and knowledge out of the minds of some inhabitants of the country, allowing him to assume the cultural behaviour that would allow him to blend into the masses...even though he didn't speak the language all that well.

Academy of Extraphysical Studies
Time unknown

Sader had said the Academy heads were "indisposed". That was one way to put it, although "disposed of" might've been a little more accurate. Of the ten Academy heads that had made up the nominal ruling body of the Psi Corp, five were now stretched out in the chess room, which was Sader's rooms in the instructor's quarters. The five on the floor were very dead, four from broken necks, one from a telekinetically induced heart attack. Sader was rather proud of that one. Completely soundless and bloodless, the victim hadn't even known they were dying until they keeled over.

The other five were seated in polished hardwood chairs moved into the room for this meeting. Also present were Sader, Holmes, and a handful of senior and junior instructors, also seated. A half-finished chess game was on the board.

The five heads that were still alive had wisely decided to follow Sader's plan. The five that were stretched out dead had stupidly fought against it. Though he was proud of the methods of execution, Sader was unhappy at being forced to kill his fellow advanced humans. He had argued and pleaded with them for a long time, trying to convince them that what he was going to do would succeed, would improve things for all the psychics in Glorious Humanity. They had stubbornly refused though, and when one had threatened to spill the beans to the government, Sader had had no choice but to terminate that one, and the others that had tried to protect him.

"Well then," he called the meeting to order. "As you can see, there is no going back. Just a few minutes ago we firmly told the Army officer to leave, and staged quite a show in the process. They'll undoubtably be back in force shortly. All of us have crossed the line, and our course is set. We cannot back down now."

Heads slowly nodded around the room. What Sader said was an unnecessary reminder. They had damned themselves, by association if not by action. Their only hope of surviving, let alone winning, lay in following him. The Academy heads had been somewhat reluctant to concede their authority, but in the end they'd had no choice. Though they had once been among the strongest psychics in the Corp, they were outnumbered and in many cases outgunned by the younger members. In the last eight years psychic potential had exploded by leaps and bounds among the younger recruits, and the old guard, the originals, were far outclassed by the very people they taught. The five corpses on the floor were a grim reminder that Sader now held all the cards.

"I expect the military to hit hard," Sader continued. "They will come to storm this place and take us all prisoner. Or execute us on the spot, I don't doubt they would. We must be ready. On the signal, we will throw them out, violently. Then I will announce that our fight has begun. I assume you all are ready."

His eyes swept the room, specifically stopping on several individuals whose uniforms bore the figure with hands touching temples that denoted them as Telepaths. The telepaths had the most important part of the job. All through Glorious Humanity were sympathetic factions who, for one reason or another, were prepared to assist the psychics in their revolt. When the battle began, these telepaths would be the ones to spread the message, faster than radios or televisions could, that it was time for the sympathizers to move.

They all nodded again. This meeting was really just to ensure that everyone was clear, the plan had been discussed a dozen times in the weeks leading up to this. Also, putting all of their strongest supporters in one place gave Holmes the chance to deftly winnow through minds and find out if anyone was insecure or unsure of their task. Sader was taking no chances.

*************************************************************

Office of the Commander of the Army
Dulles, Glorious Humanity
12:00 PM

"They did what?!" Herbert Ablegard could not believe what he was hearing.

"They disarmed them, roughed them up, and demanded that they leave," the voice on the other end was Colonel Marcus Stanzer, commander of Degrass Base. The investigators had been sent from that base, as it was the closest to the Academy. They had just gotten back and reported.

"And our boys pulled back?" Ablegard asked.

"What else could they do?" Stanzer replied. "The psychics had every advantage." He detailed the encounter as it had been reported to him. As Ablegard listened, he looked around his office, not really seeing it. The walls were wood paneling, and hung with paintings of famous officers from the country's history. They had hung there for years, through the careers of several men and the one woman who had held this office. The plush blue carpet and imported cherrywood desk were suited to the General's personal tastes, and were more recent additions. The desk was piled high with reports and paperwork. Next to the stack of papers was Ablegard's personal computer and the phone he was now talking on.

"Goddammit," he said quietly when Stanzer was finished. "God fucking dammit!" He sighed and ran a hand over his face. His face was craggy, as befitting a man in his fifties, and he had no hair left on top of his head. The only hair that remained on his head was a neatly trimmed iron gray moustache. Ablegard was fifty-four and right now he felt every year. Right now he almost wished he hadn't given up smoking a decade ago. He could use something to calm his nerves.

"With all due respect sir," Stanzer was speaking again. "I believe we need to make some kind of response. The Psi Corp appears to have become openly hostile, and should be dealt with."

"Right, right," Ablegard nodded. "I take it you've got something in mind."

"I do," the Colonel replied. "I have already assembled a platoon to strike the Academy. They are ready to move on your orders."

Ablegard took a deep breath. "They surely expect us to hit them right away, as fast as we can mobilize the troops. Let's not move just yet. Tell that platoon to get some rest while I clear this with the President." Quickly, he outlined what he had in mind.

*************************************************************

The Academy
6:00 PM

This time, everyone noticed the force approaching. It was hard to miss, a whole column of APCs and assault vehicles approaching the Academy. By the time they reached the gate, a group of psychics had assembled by it, watching curiously.

Captain Montgomery was in the lead vehicle, a Humvee. He didn't give them a chance to do anything funny. He held up his radio and barked. "Let's do it! Go go go!"

The APCs doors burst open, and armed soldiers piled out, in full combat gear and with full weapons loadouts. Immediately they raced towards the open arch as the Humvees opened fire, shooting for effect over the stunned psychics' heads.

"Down! Down! On the ground now!" The rushing soldiers bellowed several variations of this order, bringing their weapons up as they stormed into the courtyard. Startled psychics scattered as the armed men swarmed in. Montgomery barked another command, and the Humvees advanced in behind the men, still spraying the air with lead.

The whole courtyard erupted into chaos. Guns were firing, people were running. No one even saw who made the first kill. There weren't supposed to be any kills, only intimidation. But someone was too accurate for their own good.

A young student was running across the courtyard, racing for the student quarters. She couldn't have been older than sixteen or seventeen. Head down and face terrified, she was focused only on running, on getting away. Her uniformed proclaimed her a Telepath. Suddenly, between one step and the next, she jerked spasmodically. Four red flowers blossomed on her back, and she only took two more steps before she collapsed, rolling to a stop only a few feet from the door of her dormitory.

*************************************************************

From a third story balcony in the instructor's quarters, Sader and Holmes watched the attack. No one had looked up yet, and so they went unnoticed, observing quietly. They both saw the girl fall, could see even from here that she was dead. It was time.

Sader gave a very slight nod to Holmes. She returned it, then her mind lanced out, to the others in the compound. Now!

*************************************************************

It was the same trick as before. Startled shouts and cries echoed across the courtyard as the soldiers were suddenly disarmed by unseen hands. Only this time, the guns didn't just hang there. They turned around and shot their former owners. Other soldiers collapsed, clutching their heads as their minds were paralyzed by waves of fear and rage, overwhelming them. One man was so caught up in the frenzy of the sudden battle that he didn't even notice a grenade on his belt lose its firing pin. Four seconds later, he and his entire squad disappeared in an inferno of fire and shrapnel.

From out of the classrooms and all the quarters, the psychics who had known what was coming, who had been ready for this, came out to meet the Army. A Humvee that was trying to get through the gate was flipped over as a half-dozen telekinetic minds grabbed it at once and turned it into a barricade, preventing the other vehicles from getting through.

Montgomery's vehicle had led the charge, and was the only one to have made it through the gate. It was now near the center of the courtyard. The Captain looked around, a barely suppressed rage inside him. These bastards. These goddamned bastards.

He grabbed his radio. "That's it! Shoot to kill! Shoot to kill!" The order was unnecessary, several of the soldiers had already figured out that this was a real battle and not a police raid. Completely freed by the order, they began firing on the psychics.

*************************************************************

Twenty minutes later

Sader and Holmes walked across the courtyard, littered with bodies and blood. Here and there a grenade had made a crater, and one of the large trees that was part of the landscaping was on fire. A thick pall of smoke and gloom hung in the air.

An overturned Humvee sat in the center of the courtyard, it's engine on fire and all the windows smashed. Sader was about to pass it by when a sound made him stop.

"Uhhhh..."

The telekinetic turned his head curiously, seeking the source of the pained moan. He walked around to the other side of the crashed vehicle, looking for the survivor, and then he smiled.

Slowly, painfully, Captain Edmund Montgomery pulled himself from the wreckage of the vehicle. His body was covered in wounds, and almost certainly bones were broken. The flip and subsequent explosion had not been good for him.

"Hello, Captain." The last voice Montgomery wanted to here. With an effort, he turned his head and looked at Sader.

"You! You... son of a..." He lacked the strength to say anything more. Blood was trickling from the corner of his mouth. Still, he weakly tried to reach for his sidearm.

Sader shook his head, then with a thought levitated the Captain into the air. Montgomery gasped, and his hands went to his throat, trying to peel away the unseen fingers choking him.

"You should've taken my advice, Captain," Sader told him, smiling maliciously. "You should've run and never come back."

Montgomery didn't answer. He couldn't. He could barely breathe.

"Look around, Captain," Sader continued. "See what your attempt to break us has done." Montgomery didn't have to, he knew. The last shots had been fired only a couple minutes ago. The psychics had not taken any prisoners. He didn't know that the remaining armored vehicles were retreating rapidly, but he did know that the Army had lost.

"Tell me, Captain, because I am curious," Sader smiled again. "What made you think such a paltry force could possibly stand against us? Was it the fact that you have long considered yourselves our masters? Was it your unbridled arrogance that made you believe your toys would meekly fall into line just because you possessed guns? Did you think that when you charged in here shooting that we would not defend ourselves with the vast resources at our disposal?" He was relishing this.

"Fuck... you..." Montgomery gasped out.

"No thank you," Sader replied, putting an arm around Holmes' waist. "I'm already taken." He kissed her cheek, then looked back at the soldier. "I have one more question for you, Captain. Do you see a bright light right now?"

Montgomery never got the chance to answer. With a sickening crack, his head twisted around one hundred eighty degrees, breaking his neck. Sader flipped his body on top of the Humvee with another thought. In a few seconds, the Captain was being informally cremated.

Sader and Holmes moved on, continuing their inspection of the aftermath.

Council Room
8:00 PM

The mood of the President's Council was subdued as they assembled at Ablegard's request. Everyone had heard the news already, now they had to figure out what to do about it.

"How many survivors?" Albert asked to start the meeting.

"A few of the vehicles got away. Maybe thirty soldiers, total. The Captain commanding the strike is among the MIA, presumed dead," Ablegard answered softly.

"Out of a whole platoon..." Minister Brooks was stunned. "They annihilated that many?"

"Apparantly so," Ablegard replied. He turned towards Albert. "Sir, with your permission I want the General Staff to prepare a full-scale assault on the Academy, send enough force to level that place." His face was white, his nostrils pinched with supressed fury.

Albert frowned. "Surely not all the psychics are in on this. There are many who have been serving loyally for years. This agression can't be involving all of them." He was obviously distressed at the thought of sending the military against Glorious Humans.

"I'd bet money that anybody loyal to us has been dealt with," Ablegard growled. "Those bastards are in control, and that Academy's full of traitors. Kill 'em all, let God sort 'em out."

Albert bit his lip, thinking.

Ablegard softened his tone. "Look, Mark, I know how you're feeling. You don't want to start a war with our own people. But those traitors aren't our people anymore. They've openly attacked us. They're enemies, as surely as any foreign invader. They have to be stopped."

Albert sighed and nodded. "Fine. Do it. But don't kill any more than you have to."

"Of course," Ablegard replied.

*************************************************************

The Academy
Same time

The message had gone out. The game was afoot. Walking around the courtyard, Sader watched his fellow psychics clean up what they could of the aftermath of the battle. The wrecked Humvees were being moved, placed so they could form an improvised barrier across the previously ungated archway that led into the Academy. Bodies were being collected, and with nothing else to do with them, being dumped in hastily dug mass graves just outside the walls. The Army dead at least. The Psi Corp casualties were being given honorable burials in a place behind the Academy. The fires had been put out a while ago, at least the ones that burned the ground.

Sader could see other fires though, fires of rage and anguish, burning in the eyes of the Corp. Most of them had no idea of the provocation that had brought on the attack. All they knew was that the Army had come to kill them. They were confused and angry, some working their way through grief at the deaths of friends and loved ones. They were ready to listen.

Sader turned towards the classrooms. It was time.

*************************************************************
Degrass Base


Begin.

One word, echoing in Colonel Stanzer's mind. It repeated twice, and then was gone. Though the Colonel was not psychic, he could hear the telepaths' voices in his head. It was time.

*************************************************************

A sudden red alert klaxon bolted the soldiers of Degrass out of their beds. Reacting instinctively, each of them grabbed his or her sidearm and ran to their designated assembly points, pulling on uniforms and body armor as they went. Some wondered what was going on with the surprise drill, as a quick check confirmed that there were no enemies about.

Some already knew.

*************************************************************

"Sir!" The radio operators for Degrass saluted sharply as Colonel Stanzer and two other soldiers walked in. The radio room was abuzz with activity, even this late at night. With the failed attack on the Academy, traffic was flying back and forth between Dulles and Degrass. Plans were being made for the expected full-scale assault, units were getting ready. The radiomen had tons to do.

"As you were," Stanzer said. "I need to send a message." One of the operators looked at him, raising a brow. Stanzer nodded slowly. It was all the confirmation needed.

"To Dulles, sir?" another man inquired.

"No," Stanzer answered. "To the Academy."

The whole room froze. "Sir?" The confused operator asked. Out of the corner of his eye, Stanzer saw the operator he'd tipped off slowly drawing his sidearm.

"You heard me," Stanzer answered.

"Ah, very well sir," the radioman answered. He assumed a threat or a surrender demand was going to be sent. "What should it say?"

"They are to be told," Stanzer informed him. "That Degrass base is ready to assist."

He saw it clearly in the man's eyes. The shock, confusion... and realization.

"You trai-" the radioman started out of his chair, but Stanzer's accomplice already had his weapon out. The operator never got to finish the word. It was a short, ugly fight. The men who didn't know what was happening were completely unprepared. Most of them didn't even get their pistols drawn.

When it was over, Stanzer turned to the last radio operator, his accomplice. "Now, the message?"

*************************************************************

The base garrison gathered at their designated drill points outside the buildings of Degrass, wondering what was going on. Some of them were at least.

Colonel Stanzer's voice came over the base's public address system. "Attention, Degrass soldiers, my comrades. You have all heard about the Academy of Extraphysical Studies' traitorous actions against Glorious Humanity. You know that there are plans for an attack against them. However, I am informing you that this base shall not assist in that attack. In fact, should the military be foolish enough to actually try to destroy the Academy, we will assist the psychics in their defense."

Shocked exclamations rippled through the soldiers, though not as many as might be expected. Stanzer had hand picked the platoon that hit the Academy well. They had all been solid, dependable soldiers, whose loyalty to the government was above question. Exactly the kind of people he didn't need.

"I am sure you are wondering what has prompted me to do this," he continued. "Well, you all know the regulations governing the Psi Corp. They want a few more rights, a little more control of their own lives. For several months they have been trying to get the Army to listen to them. Instead the Army has tried to squash them, keep them under control through arrests and court martials for protesting." Among the soldiers, eyes were narrowing and heads were nodding. Degrass had assisted in several such arrests and detainments.

"I have decided that the psychics have a legitimate case," Stanzer finished. "I'm sure you can all see my point of view."

Someone somewhere shouted "Traitor!" A moment later, there was a single gunshot. Everyone else got the message.

*************************************************************

The Academy

Another public address system came to life. The psychics going about their grim business paused to listen as Sader addressed them.

"My brothers and sisters, today we have seen what our 'peaceful' country is truly capable of. You all know what transpired today, you know what has happened. Your friends, your lovers, you closest companions are dead, dead because the government that is supposed to protect us has forsaken us. To them, we are nothing more than lab rats, an experiment to be watched and used... and terminated if it becomes too unruly."

All over the Academy, heads tilted towards the PA speakers, paying attention to the words.

"We are trained to kill and destroy, to be walking weapons, sent wherever the military wants something annihilated. We are nothing less, and nothing more. Today the military demonstrated that they have no problems with throwing us away as easily as they discard an obsolete gun."

Sader paused, carefully preparing what he would say next.

"Yet today, they were beaten. We were not silenced, we were not cast away. Today those of us who truly believe in who and what we are rose up to tell them that we will not die quietly! I tell you now, as long as I draw breath they shall not wipe us from the earth! I call to you, my brothers and sisters, my comrades and kin, to stand with me, that we all might declare in one voice that we are not playtoys or weapons, lab rats or prisoners. We are masters of our own destinies, our own lives. The power we wield, the gifts that make us unique among humans, are meant for us to use, not them. I call you today, to no longer cower under the shackles our own people have placed on us. Today I call on your to stand and fight!"

There was a long silence, then the cheers started, taken up by Sader's own people first, then slowly the general population of the Academy also began to make noise.

A beautiful speech, Holmes' voice said in his mind. It seems to have worked too, she added drily.

Sader couldn't answer, but he didn't have to. His lover could undoubtably pick up on the waves of satisfaction emanating from his mind.

2043 Zulu
Drakonian Intelligence Agency Heaquarters
Drakonia, Drakonian Imperium
Near Augustus

"...build up of Isla de Penguinatan forces along...."

"...confirmation, grid coordinate Zulu-Barbie-Two-Six...."

The Situation Room was active, very active. The usual low chatter was up. Actually, there never was a usual low chatter. It was always fevered, quick, and rather loud, like a place where things happened.

"...what I said, I need to know where those Ardan Ships are heading...."

Like a stock exchange, Arleigh Markenson thought annoyedly. He could barely hear the man next to him, thanks to the din, which he was beginning to think was a blessing. That is, until he caught the last few words. "Say that again," he shouted over the noise.

The Assistant Director of the Drakonian Intelligence Agency (DIA), a smaller man compared to the Director, Arleigh Markenson, repeated himself. "Something big is going down in Glorious Humanity. Possibly some kind of terrorist action like we just saw, here."

"Great." Arleigh Markenson had hoped to actually make it home tonight. He was particularly getting tired of his office, but was also a bit worried his pet cat had run out food, as he wasn't sure if he had turned on the automatic cat food dispensor or not. A device he had purchase for just this reason. I would be able to feed her regularly if I kept her at work with me. An idea he quickly dismissed. No, she wouldn't like that, too noisy.

"I've got it...uh, sirs. Deployment's out of Degrass Army Base and heavy increase in communications from Dulles. Also we've got confirmed reports of heavy causalties from some kind of incident."

The Director turned. That last comment had been directed at him and was not from the Assistant Director. A rather small thin man had approach the two Directors. In his hand was a folder, apparently full of the information he had just voiced. The Director did not reply (mainly because he did not feal like it; he was quickly getting a headache), he simply snacked the folder and continued his march out of the busy command center. As he walked he flipped open the folder and looked at it.

Yes, something was definitely happening in Glorious Humanity. Something big.

*tag* It'll be interesting to have Jedi meet up with other kinds of psychics.

The Second day...

Loren, Glorious Humanity
7:55 AM

The morning news hadn't expected to have anything interesting to report. Anchorwoman Sandra Thompson was shuffling her papers boredly, waiting for the show to start so she could rattle off a couple local stories and then turn it over to the weather and sports casters. Fortunately today was a short day, the anchors for the other broadcasts had checked in and she wouldn't be required to cover for anybody. KQCB Television required everyone who appeared onscreen to check in everyone morning, either in person or by phone, so they could schedule replacements accordingly for sick anchors and other such problems. Luckily, no such calls had come in, meaning that as soon as her spot was done Thompson could leave.

"Thompson! Two minutes!" The cameraman called to her. She acknowledged with a quick nod and took a drink from her hidden glass of water. She pulled the article plan out of the stack of papers and check. First up was a local charity concert by some band she'd never heard of. Ah well, beat the hell out of some of the other boring stories she'd had to report...

"Hold it!" The producer, Steven Johnson, came running in. "Breaking News, this just came off the wires!" He looked pale as he thrust the paper at her. "Start with this one. And you're going to be here all day, we're following this."

Great, she thought, taking the paper. Why the hell do I have to be the one to sit here and update every half hour on some stupid- Then she looked at the paper, and she turned as pale as Johnson had.

*************************************************************

Dulles, Glorious Humanity
Same time

Thomas Pierce woke up like he always did: quickly. Thomas was a disgustingly happy morning person, always ready to hit the new day head on. He grabbed a quick shower, got dressed, and went looking for breakfast. As usual, his father was already gone for the day, off doing the business of politics and governments. Thomas had used to hold that against Frank Pierce, but now he understood why, even valued this time when no one was around to get on his case about anything.

The dining room of the house was nothing too spectacular, although all the furnishings were nicely appointed. As he walked in, Thomas saw that Beth had already been and gone. Beth was the housekeeper for the Pierce residence, one of a pack of hired help that kept the place running while usually both the occupants were out and about all day. Beth cleaned and cooked meals, and at Thomas' place at the table was a covered platter with a note next to it.

Thomas lifted the cover off the platter, and the appetizing smells of pancakes and eggs wafted out. As he sat down to eat, he unfolded the note, wondering what Beth had to say today. The housekeeper liked to leave good morning wishes with her meals.

The note wasn't from Beth however.

Thomas,

I know you're probably wondering why you didn't see me before you went to bed last night. Let's just say something's happened, something very bad. Don't leave the house like you usually do, a guard car will be along to pick you up around eight o'clock. You're going to have bodyguards all day, and don't try to lose them like you usually do. This is not a game. If you want to know what's going on, come by my office around noon, and I'll tell you what I can.

Your father

Thomas frowned, thinking back as he dug into his food. He hadn't seen his dad last night. Normally Frank was home before Thomas went to bed, and they spent a few minutes filling each other in on their days. Last night though, Thomas had been too tired. His internal clock still wasn't adjusted back from Lavenrunz time. He'd just crashed out almost as soon as he got home.

Then his attention turned to Frank's very direct and pointed warning not to try to escape the guards that would escort him. Since he was the son of a very high-ranking official, Thomas frequently had escorts wherever he went. Since he'd been very young he'd made a game of escaping them, hiding and evading. After a while he knew he was on the "Please don't" list the security force kept of assignments they really hoped not to draw. Frank had lightly warned him to stop ditching the guards a hundred times.

Today though, it didn't sound like he was kidding.

He definitely would stop by his dad's office and see what was up.

*************************************************************

The car was a few minutes late, and Thomas had time to finish his meal before it arrived. He left the dishes for Beth to collect and wash when she came by later that day and went outside, walking down the long driveway as the unmarked black sedan pulled up. The Pierce residence was far from a mansion, but it was still a very, very nice house in an upscale neighborhood reserved for officials and their families. Looking around at all the nice houses, all the signs of wealth and power around here, Thomas really wondered what could possibly be worrying his father so much. No one had ever threatened them, not in all the time his dad had held the office of Minister.

"Mr. Pierce?" Two guards had gotten out of the car and were approaching. They flashed President's Guard badges and were both armed. Thomas was startled. The President's Guard was a very elite group whose primary mission was protecting the First Human of Glorious Humanity. These men and women were only assigned to other tasks when it was believed that someone was in very great danger indeed. Thomas felt a flutter of nervousness. What was going on?

"Yeah, that's me," he answered. "I take it you guys are going to be watching my back all day?"

"Those are our orders," one replied, opening the back door of the car. "Wherever you want to go, we'll drive you."

"Fine." Thomas got in, although his stomach was now doing flip-flops. He'd never had two members of the Guard assigned to him.

*************************************************************

Dulles, Glorious Humanity
8:30 AM

They assembled quietly, slowly so as not to draw attention. They all knew what was going to happen, they'd gotten the message yesterday in their minds. It had begun, and soon the first real blow would be struck. The list of targets was ready, and they knew where all the targets would be. All except two. But the two who they were unsure about had been tailed as they left their homes. All was ready.

*************************************************************

8:45 AM

Thomas and his escorts had already made two stops, one at a small bike store where the boy checked on some parts that he'd ordered, and the other at a burger place he liked to fortify breakfast with fast food. Now they were headed to the Office of International Relations. Thomas was hoping he could catch his dad early and find out what was going on. He had a very bad feeling.

He looked forward to see what had stopped them. There appeared to have been an accident. Two cars had hit spectacularly, miraculously the drivers were unhurt, although the words they were screaming at each other could never have been uttered in a church. A crowd of rubberneckers looked on as a police car pulled up and two officers got out to try to break up the fight that was brewing.

*************************************************************

"Target," a man in the crowd murmured quietly into a throat mic concealing in the high collar of his coat. His voice was lost over the din of the general chaos. However, it was heard by a few people who'd been waiting. They started moving.

*************************************************************

Thomas saw a couple of the onlookers turn and walk towards the car. They were wearing coats, odd as it was a typically hot day. Then he saw them reach into their coats.

"Hey! Look!" he pointed.

The guards looked, and one of them suddenly reached back and shoved Thomas down. "Duck!" Thomas' face was pressed into the seat, he heard the front doors open, heard his guards diving out.

Then bullets hit the windshield.

*************************************************************

The crowd scattered as the guns went off, the civilians running in all directions. The two officers by the wreck looked toward the noise, and at that moment the "arguing" men reached under their shirts and drew pistols. The pistols had armor-piercing rounds. The policemen's light vests never had a chance.

By the car, the two bodyguards had their guns out and were returning fire, using the doors for cover. One of the attackers went down, blood erupting across the front of his coat. The other kept advancing, and peering up Thomas saw other people drawing weapons, running...

He heard one of his guards shouting on a radio. "This is Unit 4, we are under fire, repeat under fire. Two police are down. Requesting backup, intersection of-"

There was a sound like a melon exploding, and the man's voice abruptly cut off. Thomas leaned forward and looked at the driver's side. The man there was very dead, his skull caved in from a high-caliber round. Looking forward again, Thomas saw the sniper on the other side of the intersection as the man stood up, sighting on the other guard.

"Look out!" Thomas tried to give a warning. The other guard looked towards him, about to motion him back into the backseat again, and then the right side of his skull blew out in a shower of blood and brains. He went tumbling to the pavement.

The attackers were all closing on the car now. Thomas realized he was in trouble.

*************************************************************

9:30 AM
Council room

"How did they do it? How in the hell did they do it?!" Frank Pierce demanded.

"They got our security," Paul Brooks answered. "The Sky Eyes couldn't track them." Brooks was referring to the cameras that watched the city. Mounted at every major intersection and roadway. "Two minutes before the attack, the Eyes shut off in a twenty block radius. Just like someone flicked a switch. By the time we could get them back on it was all over. We couldn't track them. They must've bolted for an unsecure area... which means they know how our coverage is laid out." Brooks seemed as angry as Pierce.

There were thousands of streets in Dulles, and even with the huge budget the police force had Sky Eyes couldn't be installed on all of them. An "unsecure" area was one out of the Eye's coverage.

"An inside job then," Ablegard observed. "Great, just what we needed more of."

"We're trying to find out where they went as we speak," Brooks told the Council. "I've got cars combing the unsecure areas, and everyone else is being escorted by whole squads."

*************************************************************

Loren, Glorious Humanity

Sandra Thompson had been at work for close to two hours now, getting a constant stream of updates. Each one frightened her more. The newest one had just been handed to her, and if her blood had been running cold before, it was ice now.

She turned to face the camera, swallowing hard as the light turned green, indicating that she was live.

"Good day Glorious Humanity," she started, swallowing again. "We have just received another update on the crisis expanding in our country. Hot on the heels of the Psi Corp's announced revolt and the betrayal of Degrass comes word of another act of terrorism, this one from the capital itself."

She described the incident, reading off the paper she'd been given. It appeared that six seperate attacks had happened in various parts of the city, kidnapping eight people. Then she listed them. There was a deputy economics minister, a local police chief, a leader of the March of Man organization, a colonel from the Dulles Army garrison, a few others. Last on the list was Thomas Pierce.

DA, Triluminary

The Triluminary, completed about a months ago, was a fairly impressive sight, it`s smooth, black walls almost ruling the city...

Inside, the three councils negotiated, negotiations based on the most recent informations...

And the most recent information was fairly... interesting.

The psi revolt in Glorious Humanity... Normally, no- one would care about a revolt, since DA didn`t exactly have close contacts with Glorious Humanity... However, it were telepaths revolting...

And this made it a primary matter.

Unfortunately, when the councils, the nationalists under Clark, the Nationalists/ Technocrats of Sakurai and the other associates, and the Technocrats from the MSC, under Nova, tried to formulate a position, they hit a certain lack of information regarding Glorious Humanity and its position regarding telepaths...

Quickly, archives were checked to get data about the legal status of telepaths in GL, checking for potential cases of organised oppression against them, their general position in the society...

But also, as far as the data was known, about their abilities and internal structure.

However, an answer had to be formalised quickly. The masses on the street, more than 2bn people, were already interested in the matter, as if they didn`t take part in the conflict with the Martian Confederacy...

ABC Headquarters, DA

"Ok, the rebellion in Glorious Humanity on page one... And we need to know more about it... The leaders, the reasons..." Max, senior chief for foreign news in the Angst Broadcasting company was fairly excited. This was the story of the day.
"Ok. Should we send some correspondents?"
"Yes. I will ask soldats if they want something special, I think they would like the opportunity. Although I doubt we will get in easily. Oh, and something else..."
"Yes?"
"Don´t call it a rebellion. It´s a 'Quest for Freedom'. Think about the public opinion..."
"Yeah. Will do."

The Manor, Northern DA

The manor, as rural as it looks from the outside, as peaceful and... almost medieval as it looks, includes a fair amount of hightech, mostly underground.

Using the wireless connections established by The Eye, the operators connect to the satellites... to ground.- based listening posts worldwide...

And they listen, processing the giant amounts of data they get, the networks almost failing the task.

Primary target for earth operations is, naturally, Glorious Humanity... The more information they can get, the better.

For this operations will decide upon the reaction of the three councils.

Well, that didn't take too much effort. All it had taken was getting near the academy. By dumb coincidence, he had witnessed the first wave of attackers get eliminated. Had it not been real life combat, seeing the psychics toss around APC's would actually have been quite entertaining. But this was a real life combat situation, with real life casualties.

He was torn between two options. On one hand, he was sworn to protect all life where it was endangered. The soldiers did not even stand a chance, and the psychics could have easily disposed of them by knocking them unconscious or in other ways. Instead, they decided to butcher them...he could hear the screams of the dying...

The temptation to summon fire and hail to rain down upon the merciless slayers there was extremely large, yet he did not act. The second choice he had, after all, was the one he had to take. He had to stay neutral and observe, as he hardly knew anything about the political situation and recent history surrounding this conflict.

But he did wonder one thing: if the psychics wanted to be independant and prove the world they could rule themselves, then why, in all their wisdom and knowledge, did they choose the path of death and destruction to reach that goal, instead of a peaceful, intelligent one?

[TAG]

Ministry of Internal Security
11:15 AM

"I don't get it," Brooks growled. "I just don't." He was looking at the list of victims of the kidnappings. Most of the targets made absolutely no sense, seemed almost to be picked at random. It was horrible that these people had been snatched from under the police force's nose, but none of them were important enough to justify all the trouble and obvious planning they'd done. The country could function without all of the captured people, and with the possible exception of young Pierce, none of the people were anybody that could be used as leverage against the movers and shakers of the nation. Even there, Brooks couldn't figure out why they'd taken Thomas. Minister Pierce was an influential man, to be sure, but hardly the one to get to if you wanted change.

Maybe they didn't intend to take anybody important. Maybe this was just a slap in the face, them saying "We can do this and you can't stop us."

Brooks looked around his office. Pretty spartan compared to some others, the only major decorations were a large framed photograph of Brooks' family on his desk and a few hung pictures of various famous policemen on the walls. The walls were plain, and the carpet, while plush, was not particularly special or fancy. There were two filing cabinets in one corner. It looked like a police chief's office, which suited the highest policeman in Glorious Humanity right down to the ground.

Today though, he took no pride in the office around him. His force was failing. First the assassination attempt on the Drakonian Praetor had put Internal Security under suspicion, although Brooks knew the order to try to kill them hadn't come from himself or anyone in his department. Now eight people, including a Minister's son, were missing because his police had failed to protect them. He'd climbed all the way to the top of his chosen career path, and done so on skill and integrity. These incidents were almost like a personal insult to him.

Sighing, Brooks went back to reviewing the abductions. He was going to figure them out, no matter what it took.

*************************************************************

Ministry of International Relations
12:00 PM

Deputy Minister of International Relations Lacey Millhouse pulled into her assigned parking space in the small lot in front of the large building that housed Glorious Humanity's diplomatic corps. She wasn't sure what she was going to say to her boss.

She didn't have to come in today, it was one of her off days. In fact, all high-ranking officials who didn't have to come to work today were being advised to stay home under guard. Millhouse was having none of that though. She knew Minister Pierce was likely not going to be in shape to run his office today, and she knew she'd be needed to keep the day-to-day business of negotiation and politics moving. Besides, Frank was her friend as well as her boss. If she could take some of the burden of his office off his shoulders during this time, she would, gladly.

As she got out of her car, she frowned. Something wasn't right. She knew the cars both the people in the spaces adjacent to hers drove, and the gray economy job to the right of her vehicle was not the normal mode of transportation for the man who owned that space. Her senses had been hyperalert all morning, she was noticing all kinds of little things that on a normal day she might've missed. After a moment, she shrugged, brushing a strand of red hair back from her face, and turned to go into the office. She'd ask around, see who the car belonged to.

Right at that moment her world vanished in an explosion of white light and sound.

*************************************************************

KQCB studios
Loren, Glroious Humanity
2:00 PM

Thompson was really starting to dread the papers she was being handed.

"Good afternoon Glorious Humanity, although the more we hear, the more it is obvious this is not a good day at all. We have another update on the unfolding terrorist situation in our country. At approximately twelve PM local time, a car bomb exploded outside the Ministry of International Relations. Only one person was injured: Deputy Minister Lacey Millhouse. Millhouse was rushed by ambulance to Marcus Steidman Medical Center, where she is being treated for burns and shrapnel wounds. Doctors have made no official statement regarding damage, save that they believe she has not suffered any critical injuries, and they expect to have her stabilized by this evening if not before."

*************************************************************

Time unknown
Location unknown

Thomas Pierce kept fading in and out of conciousness. He'd been knocked out with the butt of a gun, and the side of his head hurt like fury. He didn't make any noise though, on his first return to conciousness he'd let out a pained moan, and immediately been returned to sleep by another pistol butt.

This time, he'd now been concious for about five minutes, at least that's what he thought. He was laying very still, keeping his eyes closed and making no sounds that might indicate to his captors that he was awake. His hands were cuffed behind his back, the cold metal encircling his wrists leaving indentations in his skin. He was still wearing the same clothes he'd had before, at least they felt the same. He didn't dare check visually. He was on his side on something fairly hard, felt like a bench. And he could hear the loud, repetitive thumping of rotors.

He had to be on a helicopter then, he reasoned. But going where? He could hear two people talking next to him, but again he didn't dare open his eyes to see who the speakers were. Instead he just listened.

"Colonel's going to have your head," one was saying.

"Look, if he wanted it done right he shoulda given me a squad of real soldiers to work with," the other replied. "Instead all I got were those street punks. I knew they'd botch it somehow."

"Yeah, they botched it alright," the first voice said sardonically. "Fucked it all to hell might be a little closer. Not only did your punks get the wrong targets, twice, but now we have an even bigger problem. We're going to look like shit for grabbing a kid. The Colonel is going to be pissed."

"Well like I said," the second shot back, sounding annoyed. "If he wanted it done professionally he should have given me goddamn professionals. We could've inserted them a week before this all began, and they'd have been ready at the right time. Instead I had to hire off the streets."

Thomas couldn't help it now. He opened his eyes and looked around. He saw the speakers, two men in civilian street clothes. However, they obviously were not punks, their physical conditioning and the Army-issue Glock 17s holstered at their waists said they were soldiers. After getting that quick glance, he hastily closed his eyes again before either of them looked at him.

They'd mentioned a Colonel. Was he going to a base or something?

*************************************************************

The Academy

Sader and Holmes were in his room again, only instead of playing chess they were dancing. Some soft music was coming from a stereo in one corner, and the two psychics moved gracefully across the center of the room. As usual, they were discussing the current state of affairs. Even in these moments to themselves, the state of their plan was never far from either's mind.

"They are behind us?" he asked.

"One hundred percent," she answered. She spun out of his embrace, then he pulled her back into his arms.

"Do they have any idea what really happened?" His arms went around her waist, holding both her hands as she leaned back against him.

"None at all," she answered. "They still see an unprovoked attack by the Army."

"Good," he smiled, trusting her ability to burrow through minds and find out the truth undetected. She pressed her body tightly against his, mirroring his steps so they were dancing as one.

"Yes," she answered. "Degrass is also behind us. The other telepaths have confirmed that. The soldiers are a little unsure, but they trust their commander, and they certainly know how we've been treated."

"It's nice to have friends," he commented wrily.

"Nice to have lovers as well," she replied, turning her head to smirk at him. "Must we always discuss politics when we are alone?"

"What else is there to discuss?" he asked, kissing her neck softly.

She closed her eyes and tilted her head, offering him the smooth flesh to nibble playfully at. "Oh, lots of things. We could talk about what we're going to do when this is all over."

"I'm listening," he replied, moving his kisses up her cheek.

"Or you know-" she turned around in his arms to face him, and lightly touched her lips to his. "-we could talk about nothing at all. Lovers do that too."

"True," he kissed her back. "Are you sure we have enough time to talk about nothing though?"

"Positive," she grinned, her hands already moving for the buttons on his uniform. "We have lots of time. It is our enemies who have run out."

As Aurora got into her car, she was about to turn off the radio when the news of Thomas' abduction was announced. She listened, stunned, a chill running down her spine. And she found hot tears trailing down her cheeks.
No one's safe...no one.
She felt a reassuring touch of a furry head to her hand, and found Thirty Camelias brushing against her, rumbling her car engine volume purr. Aurora managed to calm herself and went online via the car's computer to send a message.



Dear Minister Pierce

As you are the Foreign Minister, I am sending you directly my sympathies for your country's situation, and making it clear that any assistance you require will be given. We seem to live in terrible times. But we have to soldier on and do what's right for our countries.
As a Father, I am sending you my deep sorrows at the horrible abduction of your son. I think that kidnapping should be a crime punishable by death; it is like a form of psychic rape to a family. I know because it happened to mine, along with murder. I know this is not the most diplomatic language, but I pray and hope that Thomas is found safely, that your country is restored to order and that all will be well.
Please let me know, and let your President know, that if there is anything I can do, I will.
Empress Aurora von Sachshausen.

Ministry of International Relations
4:00 PM

Frank Pierce was starting to think the fates were conspiring against him. First Thomas had vanished, taken by a suprise attack, in the center of the goddamn city of all places. He'd been snatched barely six blocks from the Government Complex where the government was run. Six blocks away from the center of Glorious Humanity. The attack had happened in what was supposed to be the safest, most heavily policed area in the country.

And then Lacey, victim of a car bomb on the front steps of this very office building. Internal Security had wanted to evacuate the building, but Pierce had flatly refused. This was the nerve center of Glorious Humanity's communication with the world, he was not going to leave and try to half-ass it somewhere else. He wasn't going to give up his office to a terrorist.

He was sitting with his head in his hands when the aide came in. "Ah, Minister, this just came over a diplomatic channel from Lavenrunz. It's from the Empress."

"Fine," Pierce really didn't want to deal with his job right now, but he had no choice. He took the paper the aide gave him and read it slowly. Aurora's words were touching, and after a moment of thought he turned towards his computer to assemble a response

To Your Majesty, Empress Aurora,

Thank you for your words and prayers. I don't mind your language at all, truthfully I've been thinking much worse. Mostly about what I hope to do to these people once they're caught. Your offer is also appreciated, I shall pass it on.

I... I understand you and my son became very good friends while he was in Lavenrunz. We'll find him, I promise.

With regards,
Minister Frank Pierce

He sent the message off and sighed. How is she taking this? How must she be feeling? He remembered the plane returning... two days ago? Three? Was that all? Seemed like an eternity. Everyone had been laughing about Thomas kissing the Empress goodbye. Frank had seen his boy was infatuated, and the way Albert described what had happened, it sounded like the infatuation went both ways. This is a bad day for a lot of people I guess.

"Sir?" the same aide again. "I've got a stack of reports. The checks of our other embassies have been completed."

"Bring 'em in," Pierce replied, returning to his businesslike expression. No time to worry now. He had a job to do.

*************************************************************

Central Headquarters of the Army
4:30 PM

The central Army HQ was in the same complex as the rest of the official buildings in Dulles. "Complex" was actually misleading, the government buildings covered about eight city blocks. It was a five-story concrete building that managed to give the impression of being armored despite having little different from the other government layer cake around it.

General Herbert Ablegard's office was on the third floor, and he hadn't moved from it for most of the day. He was handling a steady stream of reports, updates, and plans. The Army had just realized another problem. Not all the Psi Corp were in Glorious Humanity, a chunk of them several hundred strong were in Fyreheart, assisting the ground troops there. So far, no problems had been reported, but...

Ablegard didn't trust any psychics at the moment. He didn't want them screwing up the Fyreheart operation with random terrorism. It was time to bring the rest of the prodigal sons home.

*************************************************************

Degrass Base
5:05 PM

Amazingly, Thomas had managed to fall asleep on the flight. His dreams were remarkably peaceful, and mostly of happier times. When he was jarred back into wakefulness by a change in the helicopter's motion, he at first couldn't remember where he was. Then he remembered, and wanted to go back to his dreams.

The two soldiers who were being his escorts were not having that though. He was roughly awakened the rest of the way as strong arms hauled him to his feet and marched him out of the cool interior of the helicopter. Immediately the broiling sun hit him like a sledgehammer. Even with dusk approaching, the heat had only marginally died down.

Reasoning that since they were expecting him to walk they wouldn't hit him if he looked around, Thomas raised his head and appraised the area. The helicopter that had brought him wasn't the only one offloading passengers. He was in a base; his guess had been right. He was standing on a wide tarmac, surrounding by buildings. The asphalt reflected the heat of the day back up, further adding to the discomfort of being in the open. His captors led him to a spot in the shade of one building where a ragged line of people, many of them cuffed and bearing injuries like he was, were standing under guard. Several armed men in Army fatigues, carrying automatic weapons, mutely stated the penalty for trying to run.

Thomas was placed on the end of one line, and then left to wait. Wait for what, he couldn't help wondering. While he waited for whatever was to happen, he looked at the other prisoners. He recognized a couple of them as officials, and had seen a couple on television, but he didn't know any of them personally. He did notice though, that none of the people captured were really important. They were all public figures of one kind or another, but not a single one was really important to the functioning of the government. Why were they grabbed then?

The Collective got scattered data about what was happening in GH, and after a day or so to let data accumulate they decided on a course of action.
They send a private message to Albert, the leader of GH (Or so I believe at least).


We are the Borg. Normaly we would remain neutral in a conflict like this, but there have been documented cases of mindrape performed, and mindrape is one of the 2 greatest sins. As such we have a few services we are willing to offer you. On the conditions of restructorization of the Psi Corps that would give the telepaths more freedoms among other things and a fair amount of mass as payment for high precision orbital strikes on whatever of your own teritories you want.
Or there is this bio-warfare project we have been developing, supposed to edit out telepathic powers from the DNA, and kill those subjects whose telepathic development is too far advanced to neutralize. It also includes a slight hardening against telepathic invasion and is highly infectious. Under controled conditions it has proven viable, we are interested in field tests, if you permit them we will deliver the disease ourselfes at no charge besides permision to observe how the germs develop.


There that message should do, eiether they would remain uninvloved, or they would be able to stop a large amount of mindrape and get something out of it to boot. Best dispatch a cube now.

OOC: for too highly advanced telepathic abilities read: they have become or have the potential to be telepaths. When this is depends on the type of telepathic mutation, and the maximum age can stretch from a few weeks after conception to puberty. Also it won't get rid of anything but telepathy, since that is the only sacriligiuos ability as far as the borg are concerened.

DA, ABC News

"... thusly, it seems that the negotiation attempt by the Aumani failed, and the war between The Pact nations and the Martian Confederacy continues. According to our reporters, orbital bombardements of Military installations on the surface have begun. The position of important Mars governments like Sunset and Wazzu is unknown, but according to sources in the three councils, surprisingly neutral towards the matter.

Glorious Humanity: According to the most recent news, the revolution in Glorious Humanity is continuing. The Local government seems to be unable to restore order, and the call for freedom the psychics uttered is heard even by normals in the region.

The government hasn´t yet formalised a position, but Clark was quoted that "The wish for freedom must be respected, and we will do anything in our might to prevent a possibly holocaust.

The weather: Radioactive and acid rains at the southern coast, ozone poisoning in the very north possible. Temperatures between 274- 282 K."

Orson de Soto International airport, Dulles, Glorious Humanity

The four people stood together, chuckling, talking, still amused by the reactions of the security and the airport`s staff.

Well, it had to be expected. Here, the psychics were revolting, and now, DA telepaths were arriving... I wonder if they will have some guys with black suits and glasses to check upon us.
You can bet they will. Well, they would be right, wouldn´t they?
Heh... thats one of us... Too hot for him, now that the shooting begun, eh?

They watched as the man they just noticed walked by. There had been quite a few Angstian Businessmen/ Tourists in Glorious Humanity, however, it was obvious that they didn`t overly like the idea of shooting in the streets, and thusly, basically all of them left or were in the process of leaving... With the exception of a few exceptionally adventurous tourists (commonly called warjumpers) and businessmen hoping to make money out of the conflict. Using crashing stockmarkets to make some cheap acquisitions had worked during the Knootian war, so why not now?

The group went out of the Airport, enjoying the fresh air... Certainly different from the hellhole DA.

Now, to work.
Pictures or contacts?
Both.

Officially, they were journalists from ABC, supposed to inform its viewers of the conflict, a conflict that raised great interest in DA.

Their whole equipment, laptops, cameras, and so on, was supposed to do éxactly that kind of job.

However, their other job was to contact the leaders of the psychic rebellion, to establish a connection with it...

For DA, and thusly soldats, wanted it.

Of course, they weren´t the only ones... DA had a sizeable amount of Indiastani immigrants, and they were, basically, what they needed for such situations...

So, another four men arrived, their ethicity indian. They came about an hour later, from Lavenrunz, where they had arrived a day earlier, to cover their tracks.

The Manor, Northern DA

The sky was blackening, nightfall in DA. In the large vineyards, a few owls searched for prey.

Inside the manor, a couple of men and a woman were discussing.

"This is a great chance, yes... But the rest of the world wouldn´t look kindly upon such an attempt."
"Yes. We need to operate from the shadows. Nothing is allowed to become public knowledge."
"In any case..." It was the only female in the room that spoke. "Right now, our information is still... minimal. We need to know more. Hopefully, our two teams will gain the necessary information..."
"Yes. Once we have the information, we can move further... Now for something different. Glorious Humanities current relations with other nations. Possible interference during the process of restructuring its society."
"Yes. Go on..."

From: The Corporate Oligarchy of Der Angst
To: Glorious Humanity
Subject: Current Crisis

"We have heard of the rebellion that started in your nation, and we are concerned. Concerned about lives about to be lost, concerned about needless bloodshed.

We are perfectly aware of this being an internal affair of your nation, and far be it from us to interfere with it.

However, being a nation with a fairly large amount of telepaths, we would like to offer you our services. We hope that we can negotiate an agreeable solution to the conflict, a solution both sides may profit from.

We may as well be able to stop fighting, should the need arise.

I hope that you will take this chance to prevent even more bloodshed, to recreate peace within your glorious nation."

~ Mr. Morden

Telepathic communication over such a large distance always gave him a slight, annoying headache. He knew it would fade off in one or two hours, but that still didn't make it any less irritating. He had just told the Elder Counci of the order about the events that he had witnessed, asking them for guidance and advice. After some debate, the council had asked him not to do anything, remaining a neutral observer until all parties involved and that would be involved soon had taken sides and dedicated support. Only then would the order be able to clearly assess the situation.

The Corporation was hardly interested in the events in a nation in which they had little or no assets invested, and the same went for the Kiithid and conglomerates inside the corporation. But for the battlemages, this was a group of highly interesting and potentially dangerous events taking place...

Council Building
6:00 PM

The Office of the President of Glorious Humanity was probably the most lavish in the country. The plush blue carpet was of the finest quality, and the heavy oak desk was polished until it gleamed without any help. The walls were wood-paneled, like most of the other offices, and hung with oil portraits of the past owners of this office. The desk was set towards the back of the room, which was nearly twice as large as any of the Ministry offices. The flag of Glorious Humanity dominated the back wall, and large floor-to-ceiling windows dominated one of the sides. The windows were hung with thick drapes, partly for elegance and partly to prevent anyone on the outside from getting a good look at who was in the office and where they were. President Mark Albert always felt a little intimidated by the office, despite the fact that it had been his for close to twenty years.

He was currently seated behind his desk, flipping through a report Army HQ had delivered a short time ago regarding force deployments and preparation for the expected assault on the rebel bases. Albert was forty-five now, and his faced was lined and careworn from the burdens of his office. Elected at age twenty-six to the highest office in the country, he'd served one ten-year term, then been reelected by a landslide. With no term limits, Albert could run again in the next election, and probably win again, but he didn't really want to. He'd have served twenty years when this term ended, that was enough. It was time to do something else with the rest of his life. Absently, he brushed a strand of gray hair out of his eyes as he read. He'd gone gray early, people joked it was from his station. They were probably right.

There was a knock at the door, which made Albert look up from his reading. "Come in."

The big door swung open to admit Minister Pierce, who had two papers in his hand. He crossed the office to Albert's desk and dropped into one of the chairs facing it without being told to sit. The President didn't mind. Of all the people on the Council, Frank Pierce was the one he knew the best. They went back many, many years, before either man had even an inkling of where he would end up. Albert had very few friends, his office made making them hard, but Frank was easily his best. The President noted that the Minister looked very drawn and tired, even moreso than usual. Pierce was in his forties too, and he was feeling his age.

"Two transmissions down the pipe," Pierce said by way of greeting. The two papers were dropped onto Albert's desk. "Figured you'd want to handle them yourself, since they're addressed to you personally."

Albert picked up the messages. One was from a nation he'd never heard of, the other was from one he knew little about. It appeared the international community was taking notice though. He frowned. "Orbital strikes and bioweapons? Scary bunch..." Then he looked at the one from Der Angst. "Mediation? What do they hope to do? As much as I hate to admit it, it doesn't seem like anybody wants to talk anymore."

"Nice of them to make the offer though," Pierce observed.

Albert shrugged and set the papers aside. "Alright, I'll prepare answers to them." He looked at his old friend more closely. "You look like something the cat dragged in and didn't want Frank. You should go home."

"No," Pierce said tiredly, running a hand over his face. "I can't sleep right now. Too much happening, I got my job to do."

"Frank," Albert said slowly. "You are no good to anyone when you're so tired you can't see straight."

"I can't sleep," Pierce repeated, with the tone of someone who would not welcome an argument on the subject. He then changed it, looking around the office. "This place doesn't change much, does it?"

"I haven't changed much," Albert replied slowly.

"Oh I dunno," Pierce replied. "You've gotten more mature in the last... nineteen years?"

"Nineteen and a half or so," Albert chuckled. Pierce did as well.

"Nineteen and a half years ago," Pierce repeated. "Nineteen and a half years ago I hadn't even met Tanya yet." Tanya was Pierce's ex-wife, Thomas' mother. "Nineteen and a half years ago I didn't even know I was headed for an office this high. I didn't think you were going to win."

Albert chuckled, remembering as well. "Neither did I. Neither did the news."

"Little boy wins! Little boy wins!" Pierce recalled the headline. At the time of his first victory, Albert had been the youngest man to ever get the Presidency.

"God I hated the cartoons the political commentators drew." Albert shook his head, returning to the present. He picked up the papers again, and refocused on Pierce. "Get some sleep, Frank. I don't want to hear any more objections."

"Fine, fine," Pierce gave in. "The Ministry building has some foldout travel beds stored for times when we have to pull all-nighters. I'll get one out and grab forty winks later." Albert knew he wouldn't, but he let the matter drop.

"Well, I have mail to write," he said. "I'll run them past your office so you can check on them."

"Alright." Pierce stood up and left the office without another word.

*************************************************************

TO: Whom it may concern, Chloes Borg Dragons
FROM: Mark Albert, President of Glorious Humanity
RE: Assistance

We find your offer strange. I confess having little to no knowledge of you, who you are, or how to react to your offer. Your condition of more freedom for the psychics is a logical request, but what mass do you ask for?

Your weapons sound formidable, but I find myself unsure of the wisdom in allowing orbital bombardment on my country. Also, I would rather not visit any form of bioweaponry on my people. Perhaps we can negotiate more if you clarify your position somewhat.

*************************************************************

RE: Whom it May Concern, The Corporate Oligarchy of Der Angst
FROM: Mark Albert, President of Glorious Humanity
RE: Mediation

Your offer is very kind, and a bloodless solution to this (at least, one that results in no more blood than has already been spilled) is a welcome concept. However, I fear that no one will listen now. They prefer to speak with weapons instead of words.

Nonetheless, far be it from me to turn away the offer of an open hand. Maybe there is yet a chance of this being talked out. We will maintain contact with you.

*************************************************************

Degrass Base
7:00 PM

Thomas had lost all sense of time, standing there waiting. After an hour, at least he thought it was an hour, the prisoners had been allowed to sit down on the ground and been given a sparing amount of water. Though the asphalt still burned with the day's heat, Thomas' legs welcomed the respite.

Finally another group of people approached the prisoners. Leading them was a man in heavily-adorned fatigues. Thomas looked up at him through eyes bleary with heat exhaustion. The bars on his uniform said he was a Colonel. Was this the one his captors had been talking about?

*************************************************************

Colonel Stanzer stopped in front of the group, looking them over coolly. His eyes settled on Thomas last, and narrowed. So his men had screwed up. Someone was going to get it for this.

"Welcome to Degrass Army Base," he greeted the captives after a moment. "You will all be staying here for quite some time I think. We have ample detainment facilities for all, and you will be cared for properly. Do not attempt to escape or resist, and you might actually find your stay here... pleasant." Little chance of that.

The captives grunted and mumbled various things One of them, the newswoman, was crying. The boy stayed silent, just looking vaguely forward.

"Alright," Stanzer resumed speaking. "I believe you've been out in the sun long enough." He nodded to the guards. The captives were roughly pulled to their feet and marched off towards one of the buildings. Stanzer watched them go.

This hostage taking rankled a little in his gut. It was far from honorable. Then again, shooting his own men in the back had not been very honorable either. He was doing what he had to to insure victory in the end. In the end, the means would be justified.

Stanzer turned and walked back to the base's command center, the two guards who had accompanied him out falling into step behind.

We are the Borg. We are a collective sentience made up of whatever sentiences are willing to join us. Each of us is effectively immortal, no one has yet succeeded in killing even a single Mind, and any such attempt would result in the certain destruction of the aggressor. We are a cybernetic ‘species’, and our Minds can freely control many different bodies depending on what is needed and their own preferences.
What most outsiders would call our religion defines two major sins and many minor ones. Engaging in the practice of Slavery is one of the great sins, the other is mindrape.
We are essentially a peaceful people., and we hesitate to attack first which has caused us to almost completely retreat from this universe, however the consensus has recently changed to a more open and interconnected approach to dealing with other nations.
Our technology is highly advanced, and we can transmute most substances from one thing into another, however we still have not been able to generate mass from nothing, and our energy systems do convert mass into energy. Since the pocket universe where most of the collective is residing has noting in the way of resources besides what we brought we are running out of the resources needed to keep our civilization running. Therefore we aim to offer services to various services to other nations in return for raw mass, in whatever form they are willing to provide it to us, wether it’s an asteroid belt, a mere mountain range, or even just some junk heaps.

---------

We hope this helps you reach a decision, we are also quite confident that the Divine Mercy Bioweapon is harmless to non-telepaths, asside from increasing their resistance to telepathic attack. And as for telepaths we are reasonably certain that we can do a more involved procedure to help willing telepaths to get rid of their telepathic curse so they don't have to fear accendentaly mindraping someone again. But we know there are many misguided people who don't share our views, which is why we offered the orbital strikes as an alternative.
Rest assured that if you choose our help you will not regret it, our orbital strikes are acurate to within 50 cm, and the Divine Mercy has been extensivly tested in one of the most advanced labs of the galaxy.


OOC notes:
All of the above is true from the borg point of view. Some people would disagree with the CBD being peacefull, but from their own POV they are.

Major crimes for the borg:
1) Slavery
2) Mindrape
2.1) Hacking the borg datanetwork (it’s wired to borg brains so...)
3) Jaming the borg datanet (very very very hard, but technically doable.)

Minor crimes:
Denying anyone the right to become a Borg.

Non-Crimes for the borg:
Attacking things that are technically non-military. (Such as the goverment, any sort of military production)
Mass Slaughter to prevent or stop Mindrape or Slavery. They should be happy to die for such a cause the borg reasoning goes.

I have a lot more data on CBD if you want it, but I would need a few days to gather it, seeing as how it’s spread among multiple computers and languages.

The Third day...

KQCB studios
6:00 AM

It was a relief to report on something besides terrorist actions, Thompson thought as she shuffled her papers. The camera light turned green and she began speaking.

"Good morning Glorious Humanity. With all that has happened it almost seems strange to report the weather, but reporting it I am. The National Bureau of Weather has informed us that a powerful stormfront is moving in off the east coast, and is expected to be drenching the country starting this morning. The storm is expected to have heavy rain and gale-force winds, and all citizens who do not have to go somewhere are advised to stay indoors, both for protection from the storm and to aid the police and military of Glorious Humanity as they prepare to battle the rebel forces east of Loren. Cities as far west as Dulles should expect moderate to heavy rain and wind."

*************************************************************

The Academy
10:00 AM

The storm broke with all possible ferocity over the academy. Rain slashed down in pounding sheets, and rivers ran freely in every crack in the paving and depression in the ground where they could form, droplets large enough to hurt sweeping coming from the skies at high speed, pushed to even greater fury by the wind. This was a real tropical storm, of the kind that had once ravaged the now long gone rainforests.

Sader walked through the deluge as though he didn't care. He was even whistling "Singin' in the Rain" as he crossed from the classrooms to the instructors quarters. His cheerful demeanor did not reflect what he was feeling inside though, now that the full scope of the military's blunder had become apparant. The rain perfectly suited his real mood, which was heavy and violent.

He got inside the building and went straight for the stairs up. Those who passed him on the way gave him a wide berth. He wasn't whistling anymore, in fact his expression could've been chiseled from ice. He reached the second floor and came to his room. Before he could shove the door open, hard, it opened from the other side to reveal Holmes.

"They are here?" he asked curtly.

"Yes," she replied. "They are waiting." She kissed his cheek as he moved past her into the room, and murmured in his mind. Try not to lose your temper. Sader perfunctorily returned the kiss, moving straight to his chair. He sat down and looked slowly around the room, at the people of his "inner circle".

"Alright then, ladies and gentlemen, the meeting is now called to order," he spoke after a few seconds silence. Holmes walked to her seat as well. As she reached for the back to pull it out, an invisble force moved it for her. She sat down with a raised brow at Sader, who responded with a slow wink. Then his attention returned to the others. "As you know, yesterday our hostage plan went into action. As you also know, yesterday it was screwed up."

The others shifted uncomfortably, looking around at each other.

"The wrong targets were taken, and we cannot go ahead with our original next move," Sader continued. "So, we are going to checkmate them the other way." Holmes' mouth twitched slightly at the metaphors. Sader straightened in his chair a little. "Former Academy Head Jendry, are the forces ready?"

The man he was addressing nodded shortly. "I received confirmation from Degrass two hours ago. They have in turn, received confirmation from our sympathizers inside." He paused. "May I make an observation?"

"Of course." Sader leaned back in his chair again, steepling his fingers and looking over them at the older man.

"I have some trouble with this," Jendry said slowly, not meeting Sader's eyes. "First hostages, now you ask an even greater atrocity. This is not right, not honorable. I know you said that we might have to go a long way to win our rights, but..."

Sader had been expecting this. His hands came down to his lap, his charming, friendly smile in place. "And I do not order this lightly Jendry, but we have no choice. Despite our impressive show of force two days ago, the simple reality is we are outnumbered and outgunned. We must make a decisive strike if we are to survive, let alone win. The government even now prepares a counterattack, with a force we cannot hope to stand against even with all our power. We must cripple them, before they finish us."

Jendry sighed. Sader didn't need to be telepathic to feel his resistance weakening. "You made a choice," the rebel leader said quietly, his face changing into a mask of sympathy. "You swore you would see this through, that you would see our victory... or die trying." Despite what his face said, the slight edge in his voice made the threat very clear.

"I know," Jendry nodded.

"And now our chances are even better," Sader continued, the cheery smile returning like a light being flicked on. He gestured at the room's window, at the driving rain outside. "They cannot attack in this weather, not with what they hope to field. We, on the other hand, can proceed with our plan, using this storm as cover. By the time it clears, we will be ready. Any other questions?"

There were none, though other members of the circle showed signs of the same doubts Jendry had had. Sader carefully noted which faces were uncertain, remembering in case object lessons had to be doled out later. Then he dismissed them.

"They don't like this," Holmes said after everyone but the couple had left the room. "None of them do. Even the ones who are wholly committed to the cause balk at this plan."

Sader shrugged. "Do you see another way? I do not. I dislike the possible effects of this as well, but we have little choice. You know as well as I that we have to stop them before they stop us." He looked out the window. "If only our military friends had not botched their end."

He turned back, and noticed for the first time that the chessboard was set. Holmes smiled at him. "Perhaps a game will calm you. The winner can get whatever they like from the loser." Her eyes twinkled, suggesting that she might intentionally lose if the right prize was requested.

Sader smiled, the first genuine smile to cross his face all morning. "Let's play then." A game probably would soothe his nerves.

RE: Whom it May Concern, The Corporate Oligarchy of Der Angst
FROM: Mark Albert, President of Glorious Humanity
RE: Mediation

Your offer is very kind, and a bloodless solution to this (at least, one that results in no more blood than has already been spilled) is a welcome concept. However, I fear that no one will listen now. They prefer to speak with weapons instead of words.

Nonetheless, far be it from me to turn away the offer of an open hand. Maybe there is yet a chance of this being talked out. We will maintain contact with you.

From: The Corrporate Oligarchy of Der Angst
To: Glorious Humanity
Subject: Mediation

"We are at your service and hope to hear from you soon. We wonder... since we have no way of contacting the rebels... We would very much like you to contact them with the offer (Although they should have heard of it, since our last message was public), we would then send negotiators.

Although, to know with what exactly you (or, in the case the offer is accepted, we) are dealing, further data about your own psi program, the internal structure, position in society etc. would be highly useful.

Of course, we understand that only rough data can be given, since significant parts of the data are surely, and rightfully, classified, but even minor information will help us greatly.

Sincerely,

Mr. Morden

Glorious Humanity

Goddamn storm. One of them cursed. The others just nodded. This way, they would nnever complete the job. It had been fairly pleasent, doing a few interviews ("What do you think about the freedom movement of the psychics?" - "Do you support more liberty and equality in Glorious Humanity?"), taking pictures, being generally looked strangely upon by the bypasser... Yes, yes, it was amusing.

They sat in a café near one of the main streets in Dulles, drinking coffee, watching the storm, the rain, or rather, flood, outside...

That one in the left, with the red coat, perhaps?
Nah... too innocent. The trenchcoat guy to the right... with the deep scar.
Pfff... you´re way too stereotypical.

They grinned... guessing possible Glorious Humanity agents following them (For they really couldn´t be trusted) was one of their favourite games.

Glorious Humanity, A few kilometers from the academy

The four men cursed just like their counterparts in Dulles did. With the 'slight' difference of them sitting in a very small car, in the very middle of the storm.

"Well... looks like we`re stuck." One of them, a small, brown guy with black hair, lighted a cigarette. He was just like the others... normal, without telepathic abilities nor cybernetic implants... However, a lot of defences had been uploaded into their brains, brutal force wouldn´t be able to scan them... except one knew the 'key' to certain areas.
"I hope that nobody followed us?"
"Don`t think so. Even if... wouldn`t be important. Well... anyone has cards? We wont make it to the academy, anyway... Not in the next few hours."
The other three nodded, and one of them took out his board, soon after this, they started their game of poker, idly wondering why they hadn´t yet encountered a patrol stopping them... Well, it was probably the storm.

This was going nowhere. He had been observing the situation for days, trying to draw conclusions from scattered facts and rumours that were sometimes the actual truth, but mostly just the result of wide speculation and guessing work, and the words of individuals trying to brag about their 'inside knowledge'. Everybody knew somebody that had been an eye witness to certain events, but when you got to that person, he had only gotten his information from yet another eye witness, instead of having seen anything himself.

So he had decided on another course. Dangerous, possibly lethal. But also a way to get information out of first hand. And plus, if they would try anything with him, he was seasoned engough to incinerate a good part of their homestead before slipping into the darkness himself. Or at least, he thought so. He had extensive training in telepathy and the other skills these people wielded, but he had never been toe to toe with one of them, which meant he was unfamiliar with their ways. Of course, his observations gave him some basic facts and pointers, but nothing concrete.

And so it happened that a figure walked up to the Academy portals, and simply announced that he wished to speak to whoever was in charge, with a loud voice, somewhat enhanced in order to cover a larger distance. After repeating his message once, he leaned aganist the walls directly next to the gate, patiently waiting for anybody to approach the unarmed man.

The Academy
1:00 PM

It didn't take long for the man's request to be answered. A small group came to the archway, led by Sader himself. Most of the group wore huge hooded raincoats to ward off the wetness all around them, but Sader and Holmes wore only their uniforms, seemingly indifferent to the weather.

They stopped in front of the man, standing in the cover of the archway, just in front of the wrecked Humvees that formed the improvised "gate". Sader appraised him curiously, wondering who their unexpected guest was. Did not appear to be a government man, and besides anyone from the government probably would have a regiment at their backs. Holmes closed her eyes briefly, then gave a very slight shake of her head. The driving rain made it difficult to see very far away, but she had just checked the area with her mind. This man was alone.

Alone, and it seems he walked. Sader could not see a car, so unless it was parked a fair distance back in the rain, this man had come all the way to the Academy on only his own two feet. The rebel leader's curiousity was further piqued.

"Alright sir," he finally said. "You have found the leader you sought. May I inquire why you seek him?"

*************************************************************

Kilyton Nuclear Facility
Same time

The rain slashed down against the column of vehicles moving along the road, many of them rocking on their shocks from the constant, heavy barrage of water and wind. Three Humvees, three APCs, and an M1A1 Abrams tank. They'd been traveling for most of the morning, making good time in spite of all the rain. They were now approaching their destination.

"Goddamnit," the driver of the lead Humvee muttered as a particularly powerful blast of wind nearly tore the wheel from his hands. Even though the Humvees were specially weighted to avoid being flipped, the wind was still trying damned hard to prove that engineering couldn't beat nature. Nobody should be out in this weather, the driver grumped to himself, looking at his comrades. Five men were riding in the vehicle, and the air of tension was palpable. It should be, considering what they were about to do.

Glorious Humanity's arsenal of nuclear weaponry had once been huge, thousands of missiles. Over the last two decades however, the current government had decided that continuing the MAD system was pointless. Mutual Assured Destruction only assured that the enemy who fired on the nation would suffer the same fate. It did not stop the nation from being obliterated. Therefore, at the beginning of President Albert's first term a massive project had begun to expand anti-ICBM defenses, pouring billions of mancoins into research and development of ways to stop nukes. The money for this had to come from somewhere though, and as soon as it became possible to make Glorious Humanity nearly untouchable by nuclear fire, the obvious source of funding had been obsolete MAD projects. The nuclear arsenal had been heavily downsized, to the point where it barely existed today. Only a hundred warheads still remained active now, all technology over two decades old at this point. Those hundred weapons were spread otu over several facilities throughout the country.

Kilyton held ten warheads. It was also only only eighty miles from Degrass.

The column pulled to a stop in front of Kilyton's main gate. High chainlink fences surrounding the perimeter of the base, plastered with warning signs stating "No Trespassing", "Government Property", and warnings of penalties up to and including death for unauthorized people. The gate itself was steel, and also had signs. Next to the gate was a guardpost with a man on duty at all times. This man now walked out to meet the column, wearing a huge poncho over his uniform.

"Hold!" he called, raising a hand with palm up in the signal for stop. The driver's side window of the lead Humvee rolled down as he approached. "Authorization please," he said when he was standing next to the window.

"Hold on," said the driver. "It's right here." He reached for something by his hip.

"I'm also going to need your orders, signed by someone of one-star General rank or higher," the guard continued. "With the revolt they're not letting anybody in here who doesn't have a specific purpose."

"Right, right," the driver nodded. "Here you go." When his hand came up though, it wasn't holding papers. It was holding a gun.

BAM! BAM!

"Poor sod," the driver muttered, looking at the now dead guard. Two 9mm rounds had demolished his face. "Go!"

The three men in the backseat of the Humvee opened the side doors and leaped out. The last passenger manned the vehicle's gun. Brandishing assault rifles, the men on the ground ran for the guardpost.

The man smiled slightly, seeming pleased with the swift arrival of the Academy's leader. He greeted him and his peers simply by placing a fisted right hand over his heart for a second or so, a common sign in many cultures and organizations. Then he spoke up, with a voice much less loud and demanding than the one he had used when calling out for somebody to adress.

"My name is Mosar Nabaal. I am a member of the Battlemage Order, a brotherhood of knowledge and mysticism situated on the Utharian Peninsula. You might know that name as the home country of the Vortex Corporation. The Order, however, has an independent status in the Corporation. My superiors dispatched me to this region a while ago, after rumours of telepaths revolting, and an increase in psychic ripples with an origin in these parts.

For some time now, I have been digging through dozens of rumours, lies, guesses and opinions to get a clear image of what is going on here. My Order tries to keep track of all significant events relating to the arkane arts, and this definately seems to fall in the category," he said, taking a look at the vehicles laying around. After a slight hesitation to choose the appropriate words for his question, he continued.

"Since my Order likes to base their decisions on facts rather than guesswork, I have a question to ask you. Would you give me access to your Academy, so that I may witness events with my own eyes, hear them with my own ears, and form my own opinion? I am sworn never to betray an individual that has put trust in me, so the chance of me passing sensitive information to the government you seem to oppose is essentially zero. But if needed, I will lower my mental defences for a while, to allow you to scan my thoughts for lies and deception..."

Adding the deed to his words, he took a slightly deeper than normal breath, and looked Sader in the eye, nodding to indicate he would allow a reading of the mind.

The Academy

Mystics? Wizards? Wanting to know about us? The tone of the thought Holmes threw into Sader's mind said more than her words. He smiled a little and nodded slowly. She turned her mind towards the visitor, carefully digging through his thoughts. What she found startled her. Either he had set up an elaborately clever defense in his mind so she only saw what he wanted her to see, or he was telling the truth about everything he'd said.

She bit her lip in mild consternation, a gesture which Sader picked up. Then after a moment her mind spoke in his again. Let him in.

Sader turned his head to look at her, raising a brow.

Let him in, she repeated, turning to face him now as well. Whether he is lying or not, his mind is vast.

Sader looked at her a moment longer, then nodded slowly. He turned back to the visitor. "Very well Battlemage Nabeel, you may enter." Though a gesture wasn't really necessary, Sader made a slight flick of his wrist as he slid one of the vehicles aside to let their guest in. "I am Raphael Sader. This is Melissa Holmes." He indicated her. "We are the new leaders of the Academy of Extraphysical Studies. You are welcome here."

*************************************************************

Kilyton Nuclear Facility

In the third Humvee, Captain Hugh Pelletreu waited impatiently. The guard had been killed nearly fifteen seconds ago, though the driving rain had muffled the gunshots Pelletreu did not want to be stuck out here long enough for some curious man inside the base to come see what was up.

The Humvee's dashboard radio crackled. Pelletreu was sitting in the front passenger seat; he picked it up. "Report."

"No controls to get in on this side sir." It was one of the soldiers who had taken the guardpost. "Only a radio set. The guard radios in when the gate needs to be opened."

Damnit, the Captain thought. He spoke into the radio again. "Fine, we'll do it the other way." He switched frequencies to one that reached the whole convoy. "All soldiers prepare to attack. Sergeant Smith, open the gate."

"Yes sir." In the tank, Gunnery Sergeant Patrick Smith put down the radio and nodded. "Alright, let's do this." The other three men went immediately to work. The gunner climbed to his post on the top of the vehicle to man the big .50 caliber machine gun. The driver started moving the vehicle into position. The loader stood by to put fresh shells into the main gun as needed. And the tank prepared to kill.

It swung off the road, moving up the column on the broad grassy left shoulder until it was level with the lead Humvee. The big turret swung to aim at the gate, which suddenly didn't seem so solid.

"Fire!" barked Captain Pelletreu.

The gun roared, and the first shell slammed into the gate, blowing it open. The two halves hung, completely mangled, from their hinges. If it weren't for the rain, they'd have probably been smoking a little.

"Go!" Pelletreu commanded. The column went. The Humvees were first into the complex, their guns swiveling and firing in all directions. A couple squads coming to investigate the explosion stopped cold as the vehicles burst into the compound. Then they turned and ran for cover. Unfortunately, there were only four buildings in the complex, a barracks, radio room, command center, and a small motor pool. There was a lot of open space for the Humvees to race across and do what they did best. Not a single soldier from either squad survived.

Behind the Humvees came the tank, accelerating as it roared into the base, disdainfully smacking the remnants of the gates out of its way. The big turret was loaded again, and it swung towards the barracks and fired. A huge explosion tore out part of the wall. The fire that tried to start was drenched immediately, but there was plenty of smoke. Even the rain couldn't stop all the smoke. Last in were the APCs. They rolled straight into the center of the compound, and then the back doors burst open to let out infantrymen.

It was almost a repeat of the attack on the Academy. Only this time, the attackers were shooting to kill. Alarms began to sound all through the base.

*************************************************************

Underground

The actual silos were of course buried, along with a maze of tunnels and catwalks that linked them, all connected to the surface by a pair of elevators that came out in the command center up top. As the alarms began to blare, the scientists, maitenance workers, and security guards began running to their designated emergency posts. Most did at least. For some, the alarms were a signal.

Six of them met at one of the main junctions. This particular one led straight to the elevator up. The group consisted of four scientists and two guards who had decided that the rebels were a more attractive side than the government. Their unofficial leader was a balding man named Richard York.

York looked over his fellow rebels and nodded approvingly. "We have the supplies?"

One of the guards nodded and unslung the duffel bag he'd been carrying. He unzipped it and first withdrew six gas masks, which the group put on. Next he produced four pistols for the scientists. He and his partner already had weapons. Finally came eight cannisters with MORO-12 and a skull and crossbones stenciled on them. The nerve gas grenades had been a bitch to smuggle in.

"Let's go then," York said, his voice muffled by his mask. The group set off.

*************************************************************

Topside

"Fire in the hole!"

A hissing crack split the air, and the hinges on one of the barracks doors were instantly cut away by the detrope that had been placed on them. A moment later the door fell to a boot, and several rebel squads rushed in.

The open spaces were all theirs now. The tank had done a nice job on the motor pool, and without fighting vehicles the defenders were no match for the attackers. The remaining resistance was in the buildings.

*************************************************************

Underground

The people who worked underground needed air like any other person. Since air did not naturally reach the area, procuring it was the job of a large ventilation system that sucked it from the surface, brought it down, and then spread it through the facility by way of a network air ducts. The central machinery had its own room. The door to this room was electronically locked, but one of the guards popped it open with his keycard.

Inside, two guards were on duty at all times, to prevent tampering with the vital machinery. They looked up in surprise as the group entered.

"Hey, what's going on?" one asked. "What's happening out there? What are you- hey!"

BAM!BAM!BAM!BAM!BAM!

After the guards were dead, the group moved to the main distributor machine. A maitenance panel in the side provided access to the distributor's ducts. York listened to the sound of air rushing through the machine as he lifted two grenades out of the duffelbag. For a moment he paused. These were his colleagues he was about to kill, men and women he'd worked alongside for many months. There were even a few friends among the group about to die. For a brief second he hesitated.

He'd already made his choice. He couldn't go back now. He yanked each grenade's firing pin, then tossed them into the vent. Then he closed the panel.

*************************************************************

Topside

It was all but over. All the buildings save for the command center were secure, and the last resistance there had been backed into a back office and wasn't expected to hold out much longer. The whole attack, from breach to clear, had taken fifteen minutes. Captain Pelletreu was proud of his troops.

His vehicle was heading to the radio room when he saw something. A ragged line of soldiers were standing against one wall of the barracks, guarded by his men. He signalled the vehicle to stop, and hopped out. One of his men saluted him.

"What is this?" he demanded.

"Prisoners sir," the other man, a Corporal, replied. "They surrendered, we're trying to decide what to do with them."

"Get rid of them," Pelletreu said coldly.

The Corporal blinked. "Sir?"

"We do not have time to watch over prisoners," Pelletreu said. "Therefore we cannot have any prisoners."

The Corporal visibly paled. "But sir, these are-"

"I am going to this base's radio room to report to Degrass that our mission was successful," Pelletreu cut him off. "Then I will come back here. I do not want to see any prisoners when I return."

"Yes sir," the Corporal answered, swallowing hard. Pelletreu turned without another word and went back to his vehicle. As the Humvee drove away, the Corporal turned towards the line and raised his assault rifle.

"Finally..." One of the four Indians sighed. The storm was over, and finally, they could continue.

It was about time, he lost half of his money while they played poker. Bastards.

Surprisingly enough, there didn´t seem to be any patrols in the area... Which made the whole thing a lot easier.

Or they were just lucky and nobody saw them. Well, it didn`t matter. As long as they reached the Academy...

And that they did.

"Heck... looks like a prison." One of them said.
"Well... according to our superiors, it basically is a prison...."
"Point."

They continued driving towards it, slowly, waiting for an reaction... Soon, they could see the first inhabitants.

"Now the fun begins... I wonder how good they are?"
The others just nodded. Their defences were good, still... they weren´t telepaths, so it would become... interesting, to say the least. On the other hand, it would be a nice test for the tech developed by their superiors...

What they didn`t knew was that a representative from an ally was present... with slightly different opinions on what to do next.

The Academy

"Thank you", Mosar said. Trying to observe the group standing next to him while walking through the 'gate', he nodded to Sader as a sign of his gratitude. Continuing onto the courtyard, he saw the remains of the battle that had been watched here. He arched a brow, surprised at the lack of subtlty that had been displayed here...not something he expected from telepaths. As far as his instructors had told him, telepathy was best used in subtl manner, with those who it is used to influence only noticing things when it was already too late for them to change anything.

Apparantly, the Academy telepaths had chosen a different path. But in some way, that was of even higher informational value to the Order. Being on the inside, right here and now, witnessing ongoing events, would give his brotherhood invaluable information about the ways of foreign...collegues...if that was the proper term. From the looks of it, associating himself with these people would not be very adequate, as the ways of the Order would hardly ever result in the actions that these telepaths had made.

But nevertheless, this would be interesting, Mosar thought, while he started to stroll around the courtyard in very valm manner.

The Academy

Sader played tour guide, pointing out the different buildings and explaining the function of each. Numerous psychics moved around the courtyard, going about their business. More than a few shot glances at Mosar, their faces betraying curiousity and apprehension at the visitor. They all wore the same basic gray uniform, a button-up shirt and pants, with one of three symbols over the right breast and a nametag with the psychic's name stitched over the left. On the right shoulder was stitched the Glorious Humanity flag.

"The symbols on our uniforms denote our ability," Sader explained after he got through with the building descriptions. "The gold figure with arms outstretched above its head denotes telekinesis." He tapped the symbol on his own chest. "The figure with hands touching its head denotes telepathy." Holmes turned slightly so Mosar could clearly see the symbol on her uniform. "The last symbol, the one with arms held out straight, indicates a dual. Most of us are only good at one ability or the other. Duals have demonstrated skill in both the major fields, and as such are a special group within the Corp. The unmarked uniforms are Unknowns."

His mouth twisted slightly. "They are psychics whose abilities are not really understood. Pyrokinetics, precognitives, healers, things like that. Psychics whose abilities do not fit comfortably into one of the established categories, at least not the way the government sees it. The government does not know what to do with them, so it puts them here, hoping we can figure out something for them." His voice took on a slight touch of pride. "We have too. Many of them came with uncontrolled abilities that were causing all kinds of trouble. One of our pyrokinetics even did jail time for arson before we figured out what was really happening with her. They are learning how to control these gifts, and as we learn more about how such abilities are created, the more we can teach them."

Mosar probably noticed a difference between Sader's and Holmes' uniforms and the others. The nametags that told one who the wearer was were missing from the rebel leaders' clothing.

*************************************************************

Saleon Naval Base, two miles east of Saleon, Glorious Humanity
1:20 PM

A pair of destroyers escorted the line of transport ships into the military harbor. Onboard the transports were several hundred telepaths and telekinetics, returning from Fyreheart in response to the recall order. (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?p=2909480&highlight=#2909480)

Larry Soros was standing on the deck of one of the transports, watching the coast slide past as the ships entered the protected natural bay that formed the harbor. He was looking without seeing really, his mind lost in speculation over the cause of the hasty return.

The psychics had still not been told anything. A couple of the more daring telepaths had tried to probe the minds of some of the ship's crew, but it seemed the crew were in the dark as well. The best the telepaths could get was some kind of trouble involving rogue psychics who were fighting the government. Larry found that disturbing. Did that mean the Corp was going to have to fight its own? He hoped not.

Inquiries for more information from the the captain of the transport had yielded nothing. The captain had claimed to be in the dark too, and Larry guessed he probably was. That was also disturbing, all the compartmentalizing of information, keeping secrets from the very people who needed to know them.

The coast though, offered no answers, just rolling grassland, dotted here and there with tall trees and large bushes forming little groves and miniforests, seemingly placed as a natural reminder of the great rainforests that had once stood here, before the arrival of humans. This went up to about one hundred feet from the water's edge. Chainlink fence seperated the government property from the rest of the area, although it didn't really detract from the view. It was so peaceful... Larry couldn't imagine having to fight anyone here at home.

Footsteps behind him made him look over his shoulder. Isolda Hilmar moved up to stand beside him at the railing, gazing out across the land in silence. He was struck again by how simply beautiful the woman who'd become the center of his life was. Right now a light breeze was making her long jet black hair flare out a little behind her, and the sun was hitting her face directly. Isolda had a light tan, like virtually all the white citizens of Glorious Humanity, but one could see that if not for the sun forcing it to darken a little her skin would be alabaster. Her form was lithe and toned by exercise, with all the right curves a grown woman should have. Her face-

"You're staring," she spoke without looking towards him. A small smile played along the edges of her lips.

"Just uh... admiring the view," he replied, suddenly blushing. Though they'd been together for close to a year, he was still embarassed to be caught staring at her, even when they were alone.

She turned to face him, the smile now openly displayed. "See anything you like?" Her brown eyes looked closely at his face, twinkling mischieviously.

"A few things," he looked away, cheeks flaming. She laughed delightedly and impulsively hugged him. He hugged her back, glad to see she was better. In Fyreheart, she had been hit with the mental backlash from a base that was obliterated by chemical missiles. The hit from all those brutal deaths occuring simultaneously had caused her mind to shut down, putting her in a coma. She'd woken up from it only a couple days before the recall order had come, and luckily there appeared to be no lasting damage. Ever sunny and hard to keep down, Isolda Hilmar had bounced back remarkably well, and was almost her old self again.

Larry still didn't understand what attracted her to him. Isolda could be a model easily, Larry was by his own and others' opinions rather plain. Physically fit but unremarkable in looks, with dirty blond hair and brown eyes. Isolda called them "bedroom eyes" just to make him blush. She seemed to delight in making him blush. She refused to call him plain, saying he was more handsome than he knew, and Larry had given up arguing that point. After all, despite his opinion of himself he didn't really mind hers.

"Attention, all crew and transportees, we preparing to dock," the captain's voice came over the loudspeaker. "All transportees please go belowdecks, crew to your stations." The psychics had been allowed to come to come up to the deck for fresh air from time to time, since the interior of the transport was cramped and far from pleasant.

"Well love, it seems us 'transportees' need to get out from underfoot," Isolda laughed. She found the designation amusing, especially after she'd been told by one of the crew that they were being called that because it sounded "more military" than just passengers.

The two of them headed belowdecks to wait. Larry couldn't wait to get docked and back on solid ground. Hopefully then someone would tell them what was going on.

1645 Zulu
Drakonian Intelligence Agency Heaquarters
Drakonia, Drakonian Imperium
Near Augustus

It can be said that when dealing with people of high position and rank (like Senators), one can get easily annoyed at their demanding something that is not possible. It can also be said that the Director of the Drakonian Intelligence Agency, Arleigh Markenson, was annoyed.

"Well, Senator," the conversation continued. "If you will remember, it was when relations were improving or appearing rather with Glorious Humanity over a year back that the Imperial Senate pass a budget cut in my organization. Well, I believe it was deemed that since relations on the continent of Nusquam Esse were better than ever before, we could make cuts in the intercontinental intelligence network. And with international relations heating up, I'm sure you can understand."

The Director sat behind his desk his desk phone to his ear. The desk was not overly large, neither was the office. A thin video monitor hanging on one wall and a plush leather sofa the other, but otherwise the office was bare. The desk on the contrary was cluttered, few necessary office supplies, several folders, laptop computer, and various other computer tablet displaying intelligence reports on different world locales. But, the object on Arleigh Markenson's desk that was causing him the most trouble was his telephone. Otherwise, ordinary it had a teleconference screen that was not in use as the Director talked to one of the Drakonian Senators on that man's cellphone. Something Arleigh was thankful for as he silently cursed the politics and the Imperial Senate.

"Yes, Senator," came the next response. "I can and already have redeployed more assets to Glorious Humanity."

The Senator's response was cut off by the beep of the desk phone indicating an incoming call. The Director was grateful for the escape. "I'm sorry Senator," he cut the politician off. "But I've got an extremely important call coming in."

Arliegh Markenson's face contorted in further anger and annoyance as his agrivation at politics increased. "The Diplomatic Corps will know more about the situation," he shot back in question, but the Senator was already gone.

There was a snort as the Director silenced the beeping of his phone. "Director Markenson."

There was a long drawn out silence as hush the Director's mood changed from agrivation at politics to total shock. "What?!"

Another pause persisted in filling the room. "Quarintines are in place?" The reply was quick in coming. "Have the people in Glorious Humanity been informed?"

The Director definitely like the last answer. "You want me too? I'm an intelligence official, not a news report, and definitely not a diplomat!" There was a final accepting grunt. "I'll talk to Diana." The Director hung up and dialed the personal number of the Director of the Drakonian Diplomatic Corps.

((A quick taggishness.))

"Eh?" The four Indians arrived at the... 'gate' composed of humvees and other vehicles, unable to continue.

"Well... they do not seem to think that protection of the surrounding area is necessary..."
"Tsk. The military must be composed of wussies. Never heard of long range artillery, I suppose."
"Heh... well... anyway. Lets get in... or out. Or whatever."

The four men left the car... two stayed behind, just standing there, one of the lighting a cigarette, while the two others, a rather small, young women, and a relatively old man, just a little taller than the woman, walked towards the gate.

"Morning. We would like to talk to... whoever your leader is, there might the interesting... possibilities."

The two looked rather polite, although their attitude was slightly arrogant. Well, perhaps it was just their interest in the whole matter.

meanwhile n Borg-space:

[Collective thought, sorta.]: There still hasn't been any response to our offer from GL. Simulations indicate a roughly 93.463% chance of our offer being rejected, with the probablility rising as time passes unless the goverment of GH gets desperate.
If the goverment of GH falls then the comunications we had with them might anger the telepaths. They could become our enemy. This must not be allowed to happen. Options:
1) Destroy the record of the communications with the GH goverment and anyone that knows of them. PLAN a: Send in some Assasinroids and blame it on a terrorist strike.
2) Ensure the telapaths fail in their takeover.
2.1) Destroy the academy and any persons nearby. PLAN A: Smuggle a primitive nuclear bomb into the academy, and blame it on ome terrorist group.
2.2) Assist the GH goverment more openly. PLAN A: precision orbital strikes against rebbels.
2.3) Test the Divine Mercy without the aproval of the GH goverment. PLAN A: Covert operatives should be able to suggle a few containers into GH. Then just release it.
2.4) Assist GH goverment covertly. PLAN A: Send in covert operatives to sabotage the rebels war efforts.

Risk/Value assesment.
1) medium risk of discovery, counterproductive. Rejected.
2.1) medium risk of discovery, low value. Analise futher.
2.2) no Deniability, low value. Rejected until requested by the GH goverment.
2.3) almost impossible to deny. very high value. Analiyse futher.
2.4) medium risk of discovery, medium risk to the colective, low value. Rejected.

Have cube 347 enter orbit above GH, and have them reqest the establishment of a embassy on the surface. The cube will be the primary staging point for all efforts. If the request for an embassy is granted it could become a secondary staging point.
Commit.

-----

Moments later a cube appears above GH, and opens communications with the GH goverment.


We are the Borg. We wish to esstablish an embassy on the surface to facilitate futher improvement in the relations between us.


OOC: Just so people don't forget about me. The borg philosophy on sneakyness is to allways show something obvious, so no-one expects any sneakyness from you. And they are not sneaky very often which gives them a reputation for not being sneaky. Did that make snes? I need more sleep, good night.

Ministry of International Relations
1:30 PM

To say Frank Pierce was startled would be a massive understatement. The communication from this race identifying itself as the Borg was quite unexpected. They wanted to establish an embassy? Now? In the middle of what was shaping up to be a civil war? Interesting timing...

Pierce prepared a message to be sent back, then while he was thinking about it also answered Der Angst's message. Then he took two aspirins from a bottle in his desk and tried to relax. He had actually managed to grab about three hours of sleep the previous night, in spite of everything, but that wasn't nearly enough. He considered grabbing another nap later if he could.

But first, he was going to go to the hospital and see how Deputy Minister Millhouse was doing.

*************************************************************

TO: Whom it may concern, Chloes Borg Dragons
FROM: Frank Pierce, Minister of International Relations, Glorious Humanity
RE: Embassy

I am afraid that establishing an embassy at this time would be a dangerous proposition. The recent terrorist attack that took several people hostage has shown that our security is not as effective as was previously believed, and thus until we find out who or what has compromised it we cannot guarantee the safety of any diplomatic personnel you may send. Perhaps after all this is over we can discuss an embassy and an ambassador exchange.

*************************************************************

TO: Whom it may concern, The Corporate Oligarchy of Der Angst
FROM: Frank Pierce, Minister of International Relations, Glorious Humanity
RE: Information

I'm afraid I cannot say whether or not the rebels heard your offer, if they did they appear to be ignoring it, as they have made no contact with the government. I regret that I cannot say more on the subject, save that if an opportunity arises to halt this without further bloodshed we will take it.

As for information on the Corp, that I can give you some of. The Psi Corp was formed approximately eight years ago, to train special psychic soldiers to assist our armed forces. Membership is totally voluntary, recruits sign up after passing a battery of aptitude tests. The Academy of Extraphysical Studies, thirty miles from the city of Loren, is the Corp's headquarters and their primary training facility. It's headed up by ten Academy Heads, psychics who have been with the Corp since it's inception. We don't know why the Academy Heads would choose to break their long-standing loyalty now, or why it appears the entire Corp is following them. These are questions that desperately need answers.

If anything else of relevance comes up, I will pass it on.

*************************************************************

The Academy

Sader paused as a voice jumped into his mind from one of the telepaths by the gates. More visitors. They wish to see you as well.

All these guests... I wonder what they want. That was Holmes, mirroring Sader's own thoughts. He turned towards Mosar.

"I am sorry to leave so soon, but I have just received word that we have more company. I must go play diplomat again." He smiled, then turned and signalled to one of the other psychics, who came forward. Sader turned back to Mosar. "Jackson Parker here will continue the tour and answer any more questions you may have. Coming?" This was directed at Holmes, who nodded and fell into step besides her lover as the two headed back to the gates.

Parker faced Mosar. He was a nice-enough looking young man, couldn't be any older than his early twenties. Physically fit, like all the psychics, with black hair in a crew cut and brown eyes. On his uniform was a telekinetic symbol. He offered the Battlemage a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Well then, is there more you would like to know about us?"

*************************************************************

Ministry of Internal Security

The Ministry looked liked a police station, which was basically what it was, albeit a fancy one. It was fifteen stories of glass and concrete, with the Glorious Humanity flag hanging over the double doors that led inside.

Minister Brooks was currently in the Examination and Planning Office, nicknamed the "War Room", where he and his top aides reviewed important cases and planned major police actions. The War Room had a long table, and enough seating for fifteen people around the table. A projector screen hung from one wall, and the projector that put images on it was in the center of the table. Right now the projector was off, and half the seats were filled by men looking over everything the Ministry has assembled so far. Papers were scattered everywhere, here and there among them were coffee cups.

"I still don't make heads or tails of the target list," Brooks was saying, looking at the paper with the names of the hostages on it. Elsewhere among the papers were bios of everyone taken.

"Maybe that's the idea," Lieutenant Jeremy Brown suggested. Brown was a black man in his late thirties, and had been one of Brooks' right-hand men since the Minister had taken office. "Maybe it's supposed to be random, to confuse us."

"That thought occurred to me," Brooks answered. "But if so, which of these were the real marks? Which ones were they really after?"

"Well, the Pierce boy and the March of Man leader spring to mind," Brown said. "They're both in positions that would make them attractive targets."

"Why the Pierce boy?" Brooks inquired. "What does the Minister have that they could want? Minister Pierce deals with other countries, not with much inside." Something tickled the back of Brooks' head, something he knew was important but that he couldn't call directly to mind. Something about Minister Pierce. He mentally shrugged. It would surely come to mind later.

"Dunno," Brown shrugged. "The March of Man guy's easy enough to figure out though. One of their big cheeses. The psychics were probably paying them back." March of Man was a highly racist organization that was against all but "pure" humans. They hated nonhumans as well as augmented or unusual members of their own species. The Psi Corp fit nicely into the latter category. March of Man had in the past few years been linked to several hate crimes against psychics. Brooks could buy the idea of the Corp getting even, although he thought their methods didn't make the psychics much better than the racists.

"What about the Sky Eyes?" he asked the whole group. "Any new leads on why our security systems went down?"

"Someone engaged our emergency shutdown protocols," Lieutenant Jerome Butler, the electronic security chief, answered. "The computers that operate the cameras watch for malfunctions, and if one occurs they automatically sound an alarm and shut off the camera for repairs. However, nothing's perfect, so the computers don't always catch everything. If a human watching the monitors spots a malfunction, they can manually shut off the camera as well. Well, just before the attacks all the cameras in grids G3, X14, and S32-40 all were shut off because of errors."

"The sectors the attacks occured in." Brooks said slowly. "Any chance of it being a genuine malfunction?"

"That'd be a serious run of bad luck indeed," Butler shook his head. "And it wasn't the computers who reported the errors. I checked. The shutdown command was given manually, by a human. The computers immediately ran diagnostic checks on all cameras in the deactivated grids. That's what they're supposed to do when a manual shutdown occurs. That took about ten minutes, during which we had no control of them. Then we had to reactivate each grid, camera by camera. That gave the kidnappers all the time they needed to get away."

"Know where the command came from?" Brooks asked.

Butler shook his head. "Whoever gave the command must've erased it imemdiately after. No record in the logs of where it came from."

"No lucky glances as the cameras were coming back? No possible shots of a kidnapper's vehicle?"

"Nope," Bulter shook his head. "We do have the cars that were used to stage the wreck that set up the Pierce ambush, for all the good that does us. Plates have already been run through vehicle databases, they're fakes. The cars themselves had no identification, not even insurance or registration papers. My people handed them over to forensics after we got through checking."

"I'll have to get the report then," Brooks nodded. "Have we got any idea at all where the hostages might be now?"

"For that, a big zero." Brown again. "We're still combing the unsecure areas house by house. So far, nothing. Nobody's seen anything suspicious, and the buildings we've searched have come up with nothing."

"Great," Brooks sighed. He was not looking forward to the next Council meeting.

*************************************************************

Saleon Naval Base

The first ship pulled up against its designated pier and moored. The psychics formed up quickly as the gangplank was lowered. They could see a number of soldiers waiting on the dock. The fact that they were in combat gear and all fully armed was not lost on Larry Soros. He couldn't help being nervous. Were the rumors true?

The psychics marched off the ship in perfect step, like the soldiers they were supposed to be, and moved up the dock. The grunt soldiers waiting at the end of the pier snapped to attention as the group approached, and one man with Colonel's stripes on his uniform stepped forward as the psychics stopped in front of his unit.

"I am Colonel Stephen Matthews," he introduced himself. "Who is the commanding officer of this group?"

One of the older psychics stepped forward. "Telepath Kevin Perry, sir. I am the commanding officer." Behind him, someone snorted. The Psi Corp had no field officers of its own, only temporary leaders appointed in situations where there was no Army officer to take charge.

"Very well, Telepath, you are relieved. I am assuming control of this unit," the Colonel said. Perry nodded and stepped back. The Colonel turned to face the rest of them. "As you may or may not have heard, an uprising has recently occurred in our country. The leaders are psychics." A mumur ran through the people assembled here. "Furthermore," he continued, "it appears that most, if not all, of the Psi Corp are following them." The murmur was decidedly louder, and tinged with worry now. "Therefore," Matthews concluded. "All Psi Corp forces are to be taken into custody and detained until further notice."

This time there was no murmur. "What?!" someone shouted from the back. "What on Earth makes you think we're rebelling too?"

"The government's official position is that all Psi Corp personnel are suspect until the guilty have been seperated from the innocent," Matthews answered.

"You can't do that!" The same person in the back. "You have no proof that we're part of this."

The Colonel snapped his fingers, and as one the grunts unslung their rifles. "On the orders of Supreme Commander Ablegard himself, all Psi Corp personnel will be detained until further notice. Any who attempt to resist will be terminated on the spot."

There was a confused babble, tinged with outrage, from the group. Larry caught Isolda's eye. She stared back at him, chewing on her lower lip worriedly. He shook his head and looked forward again, his mind whirling. So there was a revolt... and the Army thought everyone was in on it! This was bad. This was very bad.

"Alright, that will be all," Matthews' voice cut through the babble. "You will now be escorted to barracks to await further developments. You will not be cuffed or physically restrained." He barked a curt command, and the soldiers formed up around the psychics to take them away.

Somehow Larry ended up next to Isolda as the procession moved off. As they walked, he felt her hand seek his. She was quivering.

Icarus- station, in DA orbit

Being the core of a space station, running all its systems, may sound interesting... But in the end, it is nothing but boring. There is hardly anythign that happens, just the daily... 'paperwork', one could call it.

Ships arriving, ships departing... At the station, above DA territories, in secondary relevance territories, over the rest of the world...

Anything is recognised, anything noticed, but most of it is hardly worth mentioning.

But occasionally, more important things happen. And a ship showing up over Glorious Humanity, while the three councils have already made up their mind, and decided that they take a significant interest in said nation... Well, it definitely *is* important.

And soon, the core, birth name Mareike, sends the message, encoded, half- telepathic, using the (not yet finsihed, but for the main routes, working) network of telepathic connections between DA installations around the world...

My dear friends, it looks like some rather interesting people take interest in Glorious Humanity. All data I could get is attached, although it isn´t much, since I didn´t risk long- range scans... could be telepaths as well, and it would be rude trying a scan, wouldn´t it?

Der Angst, Triluminarium

The two women and the one men basically leading DA sat together, discussing the whole matter in the evening hours, the burning red light of sun, broken by the continuous cloud of smog over the nation, covering them.

Clark was fairly satisfied that Althena wasn´t present. Only Sakurai and Desty. He should be able to deal with them, perhaps even taking out Althena as relevant person... well, in due time.

"So... what are we doing?" Sakurai asked. Having this positions for only about three months, she wasn´t overly used to it, and needed advise, her intellect usually concentrated on technical matters, rather than politics.
"Well... we do not know what they want... Minimal information. So I would suggest we contact them. And just in case, a deployment wouldn´t be bad, either."
"Is this really necessary? We are still at war with the Martian Confederacy, and I doubt we have the ressources..."
"Not for a major conflict, but for this matter, it should be enough. Desty?"
Desty was, as usually, eating his pudding, and just nodded. "Just in case."
"So... I would say it is decided, or...?" Clark looked at Sakurai, not threatening, but definitely demanding. Sakurai nodded. "Ok."

Earth Orbit, First Fleet

The orders came quickly, and soon, three vessels left the formation... The Kalmar, Polyp and Kraken were all fairly small vessels, spheres, perhaps 110m in diameter, and they moved slowly, accelerating with about 0.9g.

It was, of course, enough to bring them over Glorious Humanity, going into a retrograde orbit to be faster.

Quickly, the ships (as usually, without a sapient crew, other than their cores) arrived, decelerated, changing their direction and speed to keep up with earth rotation, finally holding their position perhaps 900 kilometers from the cube, about 35750km* above the surface.

From: DASS Kraken
To: Borg Vessel
Subject: Glorious Humanity

"We noticed you entering Orbit above Glorious Humanity. Since there is a conflict happening in the region, a conflict in which we are currently trying to negotiate, we feel that you are here on the same behalf.

However, to prevent counterproductive events by not knowing about each other, we would like to coordinate our effords and, more importantly, to learn more about your intentions in this matter, since we are, quite frankly, confused about your... actions.

[ooc: I have taken the liberty of knowing about the mere existance of the Borg, since it was mentioned that they *were* active... some time ago. That is all. Culture etc., is considered unknwon, except I get ooc clearance to know certain details beforehand]

* Geosynchrous Orbit. I`m not in the mood of wasting fuel to keep up with earth rotation. Should the Borg be in a higher/ lower orbit, so that my distance calculation (The 900km) isn´t correct, please inform me, so I can edit.

The Academy

Looking at Parker, Mosar gave him an exact copy of the smile on his face: the mouth in a stance of friendlyness, but the eyes as cold as ice. A part of him wanted to ditch him with some excuse, and then follow Sader. After all, he was the leader of this whole scheme, and probably was the one around whom all the interesting events would revolve. However, he decided not to do that. Putting Parker to sleep with some use of his abilities was a risk....it could even be that this Parker figure would be able to resist him.

And hostile behaviour was the one thing that Mosar cold not afford to show. He had seen the destruction on the courtyard now, but questions still remained. Had the soldiers shown up without prior warning? Did they have a justifiable course to come in here with heavy weaponry and in full force? Who was the instigator of all this?

Putting those questions aside in his mind, he focused on Parker again, arching a brow. "Well of course I have things I want to know....otherwise I would not have walked all the way over here and knocked on your gat...ehm...Humvee. Tell me, if you would be so kind, what is the cause of this conflict? I can see it is a struggle for independence, but what are the causes behind your oppression? And in what way are you opressed exactly?"

From: DA
To: Glorious Humanity
Subject: Conflict

"The information you gave us is certainly helpful, and we are already including it in our of analysis.

Sadly, the rebels seem not to be interested in any negotiations... Well, hopefully, this will change.

In any case... The vessel that arrived in GL orbit... we`re wondering if they have any connections with the whole affair, and if yes, which ones? We want to prevent confusion and thusly, try to gain information on everyone`s position... working togeter will certainly be the most useful attempt to end all this."

~ Mr. Morden

Glorious Humanity, The Academy

The two Indians watches Sader approaching... Of course, they didn´t know who he was, and as a matter of fact, expected him to be some minor officer.

Well, in any case, it looked like it was about to begin... The interesting parts.

Asad watched Sader approaching, and when he was near enough, bowed slightly (Which looked kind of strange, since he was already significantly smaller than Sader). "Good morning. My name is Asad, this..." He pointed at the (even smaller) woman at his side, "Is Anahita. We´re here because we`re... working with a... group sympathetic to your kind and... rebellion." He hesitated. "Of course, I would like to keep the exact data secret until we`re in a more... private location."

1332 Zulu
Imperial Drakonian Military Space Command
Northwest Drakonia, Drakonian Imperium
Talon Military Base

"Ma'am," a young officer spoke, raising his hand to guide his superior to him. After almost a minute she had threaded her way through the command center and to the officer.

"We're monitoring a large vessel taking geosynchronous orbit over Glorious Humanity," the man appraised the General that approached him.

She, General Eris Kingston, commander of the remote Talon Military Base and the Imperial Drakonian Military Space Command, looked annoyed. "Well, it's getting to be a circus over there." There was another moment of consideration. "Very well, ready our orbital defense in case they get trigger happy and start taking potshots at our neighbor. Appraise the Revenians or the situation."

The young officer's reply came in the form of a nod and a "Yes, Ma'am."

"Inform me, if anything changes." And with that the General paced off.

1334 Zulu
East Coast of Glorious Humanity
Atlantic Ocean, International Waters
Oil Tanker Turnover

The goliath oil tanker, Turnover, sailed on at it's maximum speed for the eastern Glorious Humanity port where it would unload it's precious cargoes. The ship hailed from oil rich regions of the Middle East and was bringing in refined gasoline for consumption in Glorious Humanity. On the side of the massive vessel the classic "RTO" symbol designated it as a tanker of the Royal Trinidad Oil corporation. Flags of both the multinational corporation and the nation of the corporation's headquarters, Drakonia, flew above the ship.

The ships other cargo was definitely not on the manifest. In a hold on the ship, Team Black Gold prepared themselves for a long swim in the waters of the Atlantic. Waterproof packs were checked as the last of the intelligence equipment was loaded into them, underwater propulsion devices were tested, and wetsuits zipped up. Soon, the team would be diving overboard and making a swim for the shore. The idea was to avoid detection (especially from coastal patrols) and it was most likely true there was an easier way to smuggle themselves into Glorious Humanity, but this intelligence team tended not to do things the easy way. They enjoyed the challenge, of their own way.

From: Borg Exploratory Cube 347
To: DASS Kraken
Subject: Glorious Humanity

We are here to establish an embassy. We hope to bring the civil war in GH to a permanent end, and save those pitiful telepaths that mindrape so many innocent people from their horrible fate.

This civil war will be repeated with more bloodshed if the goverment doesn't change their attitude about telepaths. Instead of teaching them how to invade others minds they should be taught how to avoid doing that, and then left to live like a normal citizen.

We have explained our purpose, explain yours.

OOC: Yes in geo-sync, it's the most efficient afterall. If you know of the borg then you probably know many conflicting rumors about them, since they generally do stay outside of international affairs, although they are now changing that. The cube is a relativly small one BTW, just 1.2km on a side. And I believe all my references to BorgSpace (telegram me for a link) have gone unoticed :( Ah well, they are a very different kind of borg anyway. Borgsapce referenced without permission.

From: Borg Exploratory Cube 347
To: Frank Pierce, Minister of International Relations, Glorious Humanity
Subject: Embassy

We are deeply sorry about your loss, but we can take care of ourselves. Your concern for our safety is noted and appreciated, but irrelevant. Do you require aid in finding the kidnapees?

OOC: the cube will stay where it is talking until either the embassy is esstablished or it is threatened by force.

1325 Zulu
Intercontinental Highway 3
Drakonian/Glorious Humanity Border, Nusquam Esse
Checkpoint

The driver had decided to think of his cargo as porceline, which really is what is was, at least to those checking at border. Hidden carefully amongst the cargo were several things that wouldn't be easily noticed.

The truck wasn't even searched as he passed through the Drakonian Checkpoint, he simply showed the papers he had been given and the Soldiers assigned to Border Duty waved the large eighteen-wheeler through. The semi approach the Glorious Humanity checkpoint, waiting patiently for the line to advance.

The driver of the truck, a rather bulky man with a scraggly beard, crumbled the papers that had expedited his passage through the Drakonian Checkpoint and dropped it into his cpffee cup. They promptly dissolved. Smiling, the trucker flipped the radio on.

"...'cause we got a little ole convoy rockin' thru the night...."

From: Borg Exploratory Cube 347
To: DASS Kraken
Subject: Glorious Humanity

<snip>

DA, The Triluminarium

"Thats... interesting." Clark sat on his chair, studying the message. "Don`t think they mean harm to them, do you?"
"Depends." Althena (This time, she had been allowed in) leaned back. "Generally, they seem to pursue... altruistic targets. However, the definition of usage of telepathy as 'mindrape' worries me."
"True." This time, Desty seemed to actually care for the discussion. "We need to be careful... However, I do not think they are too much of a danger for the GH telepaths. Only future will tell."
"So it is decided... now, for the actual message to them..." Sakurai leaned forward. "Any ideas?"

Orbital space above Glorious Humanity

The ships received the message as soon as it had been composed. The semi- telepathic networks, created by the seven Eyes, the Icarus- station, various ground based transmitters and the significant network of orbital drones (Commonly called 'satellite', but the corporations running this networks liked funky names) were certainly busy...

And then, they answered. Of course, they used more conventional methods, rather than telepathic connections...

[b]From: DASS 'Kraken'
To: Borg Exploratory Cube 347
Subject: Glorious Humanity

"We see. Your goals seem to be altruistic, and we wont interfere.

Our goals are quite similar. We seek to end needless bloodshed, athough we are fairly interested in the position of GH`s telepaths inside their society, too.

However, we are wondering why you consider a telepath using its abilities for the best of society as 'mindrape'. From our own experiences, only a minimal amount of telepathic activity can be considered 'mindrape', and you aren´t proposing that telepaths stop using their gift, are you?"

From: Borg Exploratory Cube 347
To: DASS Kraken
Subject: Telepathy

Mindrape is the unconsensual write to someones mind, a fate so much worse then death that no-one should even consider ever using it. Even just the reading of someone’s mind without permission is horrifying to even contemplate, but sometimes necessary. Only under extreme circumstances should a telepath accesses someone’s mind without permission. Oh to think of all those poor kids who commit those heinous crimes because of a lack of training, the world would be a much better place without the curse of telepathy. We know you make extensive use of telepaths and we pity you for how heavily you are cursed. It’s our hope that someday you will be able to step out of the searing light of that curse into the comforting darkness so you may know true inner peace.

OOC: If you think the Borg are a buch of nutcases you should see the lunatic that made them get this opinion of telepathy. That is also why they always have someones consent before assimilating them.

The Academy

"Well, let's see," Parker thought, then grinned. "In a nutshell, we're tired of being lab rats. But you want details, I'm sure."

He turned to continue into the courtyard. "Walk with me. Let's see, where to begin? The Psi Corp was founded eight years ago as a weapons program. Supposedly it was to train psychics to support Glorious Humanity's conventional armed forces, but we aren't trained as soldiers. Oh no. We aren't taught how to use guns or anything. We're only taught specific psychic abilities, abilities that will make us more useful in combat. Experimenting outside the accepted curriculum is strictly prohibited."

He paused. "Now, I suppose that might seem logical, and for a while it does, especially to the new recruits. I mean, you don't want somebody accidentally dropping a tree on themselves or ripping their own hearts out cause they tried something that backfired. But after a while it becomes obvious that the only things we are taught are things that make us more efficient killers. One of the telekinetics a while back tried to grow a garden with his gift. He just looked at the little plot where his garden was growing, and you could watch a holes opening, seeds dropping in, a watering can moving up and down the rows. A real trip to watch. At least we thought so. Army disagreed, when their inspectors came and saw the garden, and heard how it was done, they went ape. Over a garden of all things. Thing was destroyed, guy was court-martialed, if you can believe that. Court-martialed and convicted of misusing his extraphysical abilities. Like I said, they don't want us doing anything besides being weapons."

Parker paused again. "And then there's the regulations on what we can do. Normal soldiers get weekend passes, leave time. They can go see their families or something. We're allowed to go outside occaisionally, but never without a guard. No psychic just gets a pass and walks out the door like the grunts do. They want to keep track of where we go and who we see. Normal soldiers are allowed to marry, have families. No way here. Me, I can live with that, I'm a bachelor and always will be. You can imagine though, that our glorious leader and his little lady take exception. Again, the reason the Army gives is they don't want Corp members distracted from their training. You'd almost think we're a damn monastic order, wouldn't ya? We aren't though. Not at all."

"People being what they are though, couples form anyway. And children are born. In the past two years, six kids have been born to psychic couples. Nobody's ever gotten to keep their baby longer than a week though. Army takes them away, probably puts them up for adoption or something. Again, they don't want anything distracting us from our purpose."

They were passing the instructor's quarters now. Parker took another breath. "And here's the kicker. This is for life. Once you're here, there is no retirement. We are guinea pigs forever. They run tests on us, check our development, our progress. I get blood samples drawn from me every two months. One of the older duals died. Cancer. Instead of being buried, she was taken to a lab and anatomized. Her family never even got her body back. The lawsuit over that is still in the courts, last I heard.

They'd reached the far end of the courtyard, near the classrooms. Parker paused, and turned to Mosar. "Now, you're probably wondering how our government, which bills itself as so great and wonderful, could allow something like this. Truth is, most of them likely don't know. One of the wonderful, dirty secrets about our country is that the ministries compartmentalize information among themselves. The Army's internal affairs, which would include disciplining us, are the Army's problem. Navy and Air Force would never dream of interfering, and the civilian branches... heh, civvies don't even know half of what goes on in the military. If we could, we'd only fight the Army. Really, we would, that's who our quarrel is with. But that's not how governments work. At least, not ours. The government closes ranks to protect its own. So to beat one, we have to fight all."

*************************************************************

Sader raised a brow at the pair. They seemed like something out of a bad spy flick, the way they were talking. He thought for a moment before answering. "I see. I am Raphael Sader, this is Melissa Holmes. We are the leaders of the... rebellion."

While he was talking, Holmes very carefully reached out with her mind and felt inside the new arrivals. What she encountered was a wall, or more accurately a jumble of things she couldn't understand or make sense of. Though it almost seemed like here and there she could... yes, that was a thought, an image... she gave up and pulled back before they realized what she was doing.

Let them in, she said quietly in her lover's mind.

Sader raised a brow at her.

I cannot scan their minds, she informed him. So they should come in. I want time to pick at this.

Sader almost grinned openly. Holmes had never met a mind she couldn't crack, it was no wonder she wanted these visitors to come in so she could work on them some more. She was one of the strongest telepaths in the Corp, and she took strong minds as a personal challenge.

"Very well then," Sader said as the silent conversation concluded. "You may enter." He flicked his wrist, and one of the vehicles moved aside.

*************************************************************

Ministry of International Relations
2:30 PM

"Another transmission from the Borg," Pierce's aide announced, walking into his office with two papers. "Also another from Der Angst."

"That was quick," Minister Pierce noted. He didn't mind though. This rapid-fire message exchange gave him something to think about besides where Thomas could be or what was happening to him. He knew that he was dodging the subject by burying himself in work, but what else could he do? There had been no updates, Internal Security was no closer to finding the missing people than they'd been yesterday. All thinking about it would accomplish would be to make him worry more.

He took the messages, and read the top one, from the Borg. Their offer... what could they do? He decided to find out. He wrote up an answer to their message, then looked at the one from Der Angst. They asked a good question. He sent a response to them as well. Then, his business done for now, he sat back and thought.

Pierce had barely gotten back from the hospital and sat down before the aide had entered. Deputy Minister Millhouse was in stable condition, although she wasn't awake. The doctors had told him that was from pain medication. He'd sat by her bed for a little while, but there was really nothing he could do. Lately that seemed to be all he could do, nothing. He could keep sending messages back and forth, keep talking to the universe to make noise, but he couldn't change anything. The fate of his son was in other people's hands, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

He shook his head and returned to reality. This moodiness was not going to help any. He still had a job to do.

*************************************************************

TO: Whom it may concern, Chloes Borg Dragons
FROM: Frank Pierce, Minister of International Relations, Glorious Humanity
RE: Embassy

Any aid in finding the missing people would of course be appreciated. What exactly can you offer to help us in our search?

Also, if you are truly unconcerned about sending people down in spite of all that has happened, then I will speak to the President about organizing a temporary embassy, and we can discuss a more permanent residence for your diplomats after this is all over.

*************************************************************

TO: Whom it may concern, The Corporate Oligarchy of Der Angst
FROM: Frank Pierce, Minister of International Relations, Glorious Humanity
RE: The vessel

The vessel in question identifies itself as coming from a race called the Borg, whom we have had no contact with before now. They have offered military assistance to the government, but President Albert is unsure about taking it, as involving a foreign power's troops could escalate the situation even further. More than that, I can't say. We know very little about them, save what they've told us. Apparantly they dislike "mindrape" (telepathy) which is why they are offering assistance.

*************************************************************

Degrass Base

Thomas sat by himself in a small, square cell of concrete and steel. Degrass maintained a military prison, and that was where the hostages were now being confined. They'd been allowed to clean up in a communal shower, and were fed a light lunch, then returned to their cells. He'd been told that the prisoners would be allowed out of their cells to have some exercise later. Overall they were being treated well. Nobody was interrogating them or hurting them in any way. Thomas had a feeling that would change if anyone tried to escape though.

And no amount of good treatment could change the fact that he was a prisoner. A prisoner of people who were fighting the government his father worked for. Thomas' first thought was that they'd taken him to get to his dad, but that didn't seem likely now. The more he thought about it, the more he thought that his father didn't really have anything they wanted. Besides, several of the officers seemed upset that he was here. The Colonel in particular seemed very angry. He'd heard a couple of quiet, and one not so quiet, arguments between his jailers.

He doubted that would result in his release though.

TO: Frank Pierce, Minister of International Relations, Glorious Humanity
FROM: Exploratory Cube 347
SUBJECT: Person Search

What we can offer in the search depends largely on how much information you can give us, but with detailed enough information we could scan the entire country until we have a transporter lock on them, and then the rescue would be almost trivial. The more information we have the faster and easier the scan will be.
We appreciate your willingness to establish an embassy, truth to be told we have hundreds of volunteers lining up to go down, but we will restrict ourselves to three humanoid drones.

ooc: OOC: If you think the Borg are a buch of nutcases you should see the lunatic that made them get this opinion of telepathy.Sounds kinda like me...

ic:

From: Borg Exploratory Cube 347
To: DASS Kraken
Subject: Telepathy

<snip>

Althena couldn´t help it, she just had to chuckle, reading the Borg transmission. The other people in the room, Sakurai, Clark, and Desty, chuckled as well. "Curse? Well, I think they know that we disagree with them. Anyway-"
"Their feelings towards telepathy worry me. There might be a possibility that they could choose rather... extreme methods to end the conflict in Glorious Humanity. And most likely not in our favour."
"Indeed." Sakurai was seemingly agreeing with Clark. "Although they sound rather altruistic... But having a monstership parked in earth orbit, they wont have any problems changing their attitude, should they want to change it."
The others nodded. "True. But I doubt they will just enforce their will. In any case... What are we replying?"

---

It took them a while to compose an answer, but in the end, it was sent.

From: DASS 'Kraken'
To: Borg Exploratory Cube 347
Subject: Telepathy

"We see... You will understand the fact that we disagree with you on quite a few matters, but that shouldn´t stop us from working together, for the greater good of the innocent ones now imprisoned in the fire of a war they didn´t want."

The Academy

The two Indians bowed again and entered. "Thank you."

They entered, following Sader and Holmes, idly wondering what their colleagues in Dulles were doing, and further wondering if the telepaths here had already attemped a scan... they weren´t really sure about it.

---

TO: Whom it may concern, The Corporate Oligarchy of Der Angst
FROM: Frank Pierce, Minister of International Relations, Glorious Humanity
RE: The vessel

<snip>

From: DA
To: GH
Subject: The vessel

I see... Well, this is a bit worrying... Lets hope they do nothing... unilateral.

In any case, many thanks for the information."

~ Mr. Morden

In growing horror, Mosar listened to Parker’s words, almost immediately regretting the cold and arrogant manner of speech that he had used to adress him. If what he said was true, then these people had been living here in a golden cage. Every opportunity to develop their gifts, as long as they did so in the desired direction. Food, shelter, clothes and company, but not allowed to venture outside the Academy Walls. Like fish in a tank, they were kept by the government, experimented upon, all in the name of the international arms race. Slowly, he began to develop an understanding of the motivation of these psychics, and their reasons to resort to violence and bloodshed. After all, his own teachings had repeated it over and over again, both in written and spoken form: a human can only take so much. At some point, everybody reaches a certain limit, and once that limit is exceeded, all hell breaks loose.

History had shown this to be true over and over again. And now it was repeating itself, once again. In the Corporation, Mosar new, rules were also very strict. Since the entire Corporation was a business venture, a profit had to be made. So education and conformance to corporate culture were a must. But within those rules, the Corporation encouraged creativity, innovation, learning and self actualization. This government merely wanted to make these people into a weapon, just as easily used as an assault rifle or piece of artillery. As Parker’s story continued, Mosar started to feel sympathy for his hosts, something he actually had been wanting to avoid, in order to preserve his neutrality.

However, he did note one strange thing. “our glorious leader”?. Normally, such things were said by the ignorant and misled followers of cult leaders or revolutions doomed to fail. It was odd to hear such a phrase from a telepath who was supposed to be well educated. Was he using these words in sarcastic manner, or did he really look up to Sader as much as his words suggested? In that case, the status of Sader could eventually become one of a messiah, a liberator of the opressed psychics. And such a semi-mythical status always tended to result in trouble…

But for now, such considerations were still irrelevant. Turning to Parker, Mosar made his reply.

“What you speak of is terrible. My own Order is visited by the Corporates very oftenm, but we treat one another with mutual respect and dignity, like any group of men and women who find each other to be equals should do. But I do have a further question: was it really necessary to resort to violence? I can understand violence in many conditions, but could you not have simply exposed your situation to the world mass media or something similar?”

While asking his question, Mosar readjusted the sceathe of his blade, which was hanging on his back. He had slightly repositioned it earlier, in order to be able to grasp it faster if things would come to trouble. But now, he did not believe that these people would use violence against him. After all, he had never did anything to harm them. From the looks of it, their revolution was one with dual purpose. First, to gain independence and to shed themselves from the oppression of their government. Second, to repay their former masters with an ‘eye for an eye’ point of view on the situation.

It was this second suspision that worried him most…

From: Borg Exploratory Cube 347
To: DASS 'Kraken'
Subject: Cooperation

We understand that there is a distinct philosophical difference between our cultures, however the mere fact that you are willing to attempt to cooperate is a good sign. We hope we can maintain this goodwill between our empires.

Ministry of International Relations

Pierce barely had time to drink the cup of coffee he'd asked his aide to get him before new messages arrived. The Borg and Der Angst again. Pierce read both quickly. The Borg's offer sounded simple enough, so he automatically wondered about it. Even if they could do what they claimed, what information could he give them to help? Internal Security still had nothing to go on.

The same went for the Der Angst message, he had no new information for either group. So for now, he'd have to wait and see. He did send a short message to the Borg though. Then he sat back to wait again. That was the political game, waiting. Pierce was good at it. Of course, normally he wasn't waiting to find out if his son was alive or dead.

Well, there was one thing that could pass the time. Pierce lifted the phone on his desk and dialed President Albert's personal line. Albert would probably want to speak to the Borg diplomats.

*************************************************************

TO: Whom it may concern, Chloes Borg Dragons
FROM: Frank Pierce, Minister of International Relations, Glorious Humanity
RE: Assistance

I am afraid I cannot tell you much that might assist your search. We do not know if the missing people are still in this city, or if they've been moved somewhere else. I regret that our investigation is moving more slowly than I would like. If anything new comes up, I will certainly inform you.

*************************************************************

The Academy

"Oh, we've tried," Parker answered. "Sader's the one you'd have to ask for details of that. I'm just a lieutenant. He's written letters to newspapers, to other branches of the government, to all kinds of people. Hell, when Military Intelligence did an inspection of this place, he tried to talk to their people. MI's the closest thing to a watchdog on the Army there is, but even they don't know much about what really happens. Everybody keeps secrets. The Army kept most of the psychics indoors during the inspection, and none of Sader's letters ever reached their destinations."

He considered how to explain. "You'd think that in a country like this somebody would make an outcry over our treatment even if we couldn't. Some family member of a psychic would get suspicious or something. But that's not how it works. We are allowed to have limited communication with our families, although every letter sent is read by the Army and I think they censor them. Even with that, you'd think word would get out somehow. It hasn't though. Mainly because it's hard to find people that will listen. The Army doesn't want to, and like I said before the general populace only hear what the military wants them to hear with regards to the actions of our armed forces. Tricky place to make a statement in. So we're making a statement they can't ignore now."

*************************************************************

Sader and Holmes led the new guests across the courtyard, Sader repeating his previous tour, pointing out and explaining the buildings and the area. Instead of continuing further into the courtyard though, they headed for the instructor's quarters. Sader led them from there upstairs to his personal quarters.

As they walked, Holmes made another attempt to peek into the minds of the new arrivals. She again found that jumble of disconnected thoughts and images. It seemed to her intentional, a white noise to prevent reading. She wondered idly how that was done, it would be a useful trick to pick up. The current mental defense the Psi Corp used involved simply offering a blank wall of nothing to someone trying to get in, preventing them from entering a mind at all. This new trick, which allowed someone in then gave them absolutely nothing to work with, was different and interesting.

It was also bloody difficult for her. Things swirled randomly, creating no discernable patterns, nothing for her to grab and work on to make an opening. After about a minute of trying, she gave up again.

They reached Sader's personal quarters, and the rebel leader opened the door without using his hands. Inside, the Indians were waved to chairs, while Sader and Holmes took their accustomed seats next to the chessboard. A half-finished game sat on the board, interrupted by the arrival of the foreigners.

"Now then," Sader said, steepling his fingers. "You hinted at something you wished to tell me in private." Hinted about as subtly as a train wreck, he didn't say. "We are now alone. What more have you to say?"

*************************************************************

Kilyton Nuclear Facility
Underground

It had been almost two hours since the attack ended. Most of the nerve gas that had been used to clear the underground area had been vented out, but everyone who came down still wore masks just to be safe.

Dr. York was busy. With everyone dead save his team of rebels, he now could access the fire control computers that armed and launched the nuclear missiles. He didn't have clearance, but he'd been personal assistant to the Director of the Facility before the attack. Covert observation had yielded much.

He didn't pay much attention to Director Mitchell Barnes, whose corpse lay on the floor in this office, in front of the very desk York now sat at. Barnes had apparantly been getting coffee when the attack hit, there were scratches on his desk and coffee everywhere, spilled from a pot he had apparantly knocked over in his final moments as his nervous system destroyed itself. York had been a little disturbed by the twisted body when he'd first entered the room, but now he didn't even notice it.

He had the Director's passcode, but he still had to bypass the President's authorization. Glorious Humanity's nuclear arsenal required top-level authorization to fire, in the form of a specialized second code sent out to the facilities only in the event of an actual launch. Obviously York did not have that, so he was having to bypass it, which was annoying. He wasn't a great hacker, and thus this was taking more time than he wanted.

He wanted to finish this, before he could think about what he was doing.

Asad and Anahita followed Sader and Holmes, patiently listening to their explanations, nodding, although they didn`t seem to be impressed (or shocked) by the conditions the psychics had to live with. It looked almost as if they considered it... a fact, not a tragic situation. Something that could be changed... or couldn´t. It was the environment they had to work with... Nothing else. Neither good nor evil.

And both felt something while they were walking... Asad even smiled for a moment. Well, it`s not like we expect them to be polite... he thought to himself.

Finally, they reached Saders personal quarters.

"Now then," Sader said, steepling his fingers. "You hinted at something you wished to tell me in private." Hinted about as subtly as a train wreck, he didn't say. "We are now alone. What more have you to say?"


"Hinted?" Asad chuckled. "I`m pretty sure we were rather... blunt. Well, anyway..." He hesitated. "We`re... working for DA, and... Well, I`m not sure if you followed the headlines in the international media, but your rebellion seems to catch quite a bit of interest..."
"And not only in the general population, but in the ruling councils as well." Anahita continued. "Since just about everyone in DA, except for immigrant minorities like, well, the two of us, has telepathic abilities, there is... considerable interest in your situation... And in your success."
"The councils would have preferred to talk directly to you, unfortunately, Angstians are rather... easy to recognize, due to various changes in their physical appearance, and them just walking into the academy was not an option."
"Although, considering the amount of security we have seen, there was not really a need for this precautions." Asad chuckled again, seemingly amused at the complete lack of controls they had experienced.
"In any case..." Again, it was Anahita who continued. "DA is willing to... help in your effords. The problem is that we have no idea what your aims in this conflicts are. Or rather, how far you intend to go."
"Which means that we do not know how we can help you."
"However, this isn`t exactly our department. We`re here to make contact, not to negotiate. That is the job of another team... Whose location and other necessary data is in our heads." Anahita smiled. "I`m pretty sure you noticed that it isn´t exactly easy to peer into our heads. However, to verify our origin and give you the data for the further development of this thing, we have a key that will give you partial access." She opens a small laptop she carried with her, starts it, and hands it to Holmes. "I`m not sure if you´re familiar with the possibility of using the optic nerve, your eyes, as a gateway into the mind." She plugs some sort of... black glasses into the laptop. "Please wear this ones. They will project a bitmap on your eyes. This bitmap is, in fact, the key to open a few doors in mine and his..." She looks at Asad. "...head. Of course... Not for all the doors..." Again, she smiles, while Asad chuckles. "Just open the 'Keyhole' file. Once you have seen the image, that is, once it was sort of... uploaded into your mind, you can use it on us while scanning. Simple."

From: Exploratory Cube 347
TO: Frank Pierce, Minister of International Relations, Glorious Humanity
RE: Assistance

We are an exploratory class cube, we are desinged to go into a system, scan it and be on our way again within a minute. During that time we are not only supposed to gather orbital data for every object within the solar system bigger than 10cm across, but also their composition, and a myrad of other data including genetic data for any lifeforms found. We can't quite match that goal yet, but we are close.
Medical data would be the most usefull, esspecially any data on abnormal material concentrartions within the bodies, such as braces and teeth fillings, or metal strips to strengthen broken bones. Genetic data is also good enough to find them, and it is desiered at the very least for confirmation that we indeed found the right people.
Depending on the detail of the data we might have to dip down occasionally for a closer look, but it should take only a few hours to get the results of a scan of your entire country. The real limitation here is our data analasis capacity, which is mainly number crunching. Sadly unpaid charity work has a rather low priority, otherwise it could be done faster.

Our Ambassador will meet with you in your office in half an hour if it's agreeable with you.

The ships of the II Imperial Marine Expeditionary Force appeared to be ragged white Vs from above, the amphibious ships and escorting frigates and destroyers dark as flint arrowheads amid the Vs.



~ Encrypted Top Secret Eyes Only ~
Dear Minister Pierce

I am dispatching the IInd Imperial Marine Expeditionary Force to assist your country. If you would prefer they not land, it is your perogative. They will assist in anything you need, whether it is to build things, help with area control or fight.
I hope that this crisis will soon be behind us.
Along with them I am sending an operative who is very experienced in dealing with paranormal matters. The code of this agent is Dividend.
Best wishes and blessings. Please let me know of any news of Thomas.
Empress Aurora.

1338 Zulu
Saleon
Glorious Humanity, Nusquam Esse
Portside Café LOT'té

Veteran Operative Leo Flavius took another sip of his Espresso, confirming his earlier decision that it was a bad idea. He was more of a black coffee person, but he had the free time (a rarity in his line of work) and the money (definitely not a rarity in his line of work).

Leo Flavius had flown into Glorious Humanity out of Benderland on an Emirate Airlines flight, under the alias of John Dowry (Leo really had no idea where they came up with these odd names). From there he had spent three hours looking for the right rental vehicle. Usually, it would have taken him two minutes, spent just picking up the vehicle, but this time he had been rushed and his rental had not been pre-arranged. Therefore, one of those hours had been spent looking at Wazzu TransCorp automobiles, which had ended when the owner of the smalltime independently-run operation had told Leo he was being "too picky" in a not-so-polite way.

The rest the other two hours had been spent at the name brand Australian Marsupials Motors Leasing Company looking through their selection, which seemed to be sizable (especially as it had taken two hours). The dealer had first attempted to lease him a FatCat 500SL Sedan. A nice vehicle, but not what Leo was going to need. Then there had been the SchoolRunner, SoccerMom, and finally the EarthMover (a SUV with a 'digger blade' on the front). None had suited the Drakonian's needs, until finally the dealer had relented and shown Leo the much cheaper Pajero SUV. That was what Leo had been looking to find (for a quite a long while), much to the chagrin of the dealer.

The purchase had been made and amazingly Leo was still left with time to kill as he waited to drive to the meeting. With not much else to do he regrettably sipped his Espresso, his mind drifting back to his mission briefing.

It was the same old thing. Go here. Do this. Make your country proud. At least lately Veteran Operative Leo Flavius did not have to take orders from some idiot. This time he was that idiot, and would be in charge of--

"...performing an operation to promote stability in Glorious Humanity." The man briefing him handed over a computer tablet detail the specifics of that mission as he continued. "You will be in overall command of the operation and be directly in control of several intelligence elements in Glorious Humanity. Foremost, under your command will be the Black Gold team that will be deployed from a freighter off the west coast (details our on that tablet). Your goal is to secretly restore stability and peace to our southern neighbor. How you go about this is your business. You know what not to do so it's up to your digression."

Leo nodded his acknowledgement. The latitude of his mission was not something that surprised him, he been given similar latitude in the past and because of his past results he was getting it now.

Then came the usual generic reminder he heard before every mission. Company policy, Leo joked often. "As you know, should you or anyone under your command be discovered or captured, it is likely that Drakonia will disavow all knowledge of your service and employment and will offer no open assistance."

Leo nodded. "That goes without saying." All jobs had risks, his job just had very big risks; life and death risks.

"What is our position," Leo questioned.

"Stability, as I said before, and keeping Glorious Humanity a close ally are both vital, meaning you may need to help them against those psychics. Their actions are clearly terrorist and therefore must be stopped." Again Leo nodded at the briefing agent’s comments, taking note of the other man’s mention of terrorism and that the psychic needed to be stopped because of it.

They are ignoring the issue of freedom, like the Glorious Humanity’s government, Leo realized. Terrorism was not the best method the psychics could have employed to accomplish their goals, it won them more enemies than allies. Yet, it achieve their goal of attention to the issue of freedom, even if that issue was mainly ignore and their actions were being consider more important.

Leo pulled himself from his memories and thoughts after checking his watch and finding he had a meeting to make shortly. He stood and left, leaving a half full cup of Espresso.

No matter, his personal opinions, the mission took priority.

1342 Zulu
Drakonian Intelligence Agency Heaquarters
Drakonia, Drakonian Imperium
Near Augustus

"What now?" The statement was blunt and to the point, but no one minded the gruffness of the Director Arleigh Markenson. It was not meant to be rude, annoyed, or angry, it simply meant he was ready to be told the latest and that he frequently was told; almost as frequently as he made the blunt statement.

The Assistant Director of the Drakonian Intelligence Agency and the man standing next to the Director gestured as the massive array of monitors at the other end of the Situation Room. Displayed on one of the larger and several of the smaller monitors were satellite video feeds and photographs of the Kilyton Nuclear Facility. "This is a nuclear weapon storage and launch facility. It is located near Degrass Military Base and the Psi Corps. Academy, both currently in rebellion against the Glorious Humanity government, which is why we noticed this...." He again indicated the monitors across the crowded and noisy command center.

The Director stared on patiently waiting for an explanation of what "this" was, and he got one. "Judging from the pictures our satellite gathered while monitoring the area. There was an attack on the Kilyton Base by unknown forces; likely those of the rebel physics."

Asking the obvious question the Arleigh Markenson, turned his attention from the monitors to his subordinate. "Did they succeed?"

The answer was not comforting. "We believe so."

"Which means we should probably inform the Glorious Humanity government and offer our assistance." Made clear the course of action they needed to take. "I'll need a full report to hand over to the Diplomatic Corps., but I will contact them and have them send out a preliminary warn and offer of assistance. Have that report in my office as soon as is physically possible, the Glorious Humans may wish proof."

"Will do," was the reply as the two men went about their work.

The Academy
2:45 PM

Holmes accepted the items with a short nod. Sader almost chuckled but caught himself at the last moment. Though it wasn't obvious to anyone who didn't know her well, Holmes was miffed at having to use technology to crack open a mind. Sader had a feeling his lover would take another crack at breaking in on her own later, and probably try to get into something off-limits.

She followed the instructions she was given, found the necessary file, and opened it. Information began to enter her mind, data on these compatriots of their guests. A clever system, she had to grudgingly admit.

Journalists, she said in Sader's mind, then gave him some of the details. They're in Dulles, it seems, waiting to be contacted.

*************************************************************

Saleon Naval Base

After Minister Pierce got the Lavenrunzian message, he forwarded the part about the fleet to General Hanoway, who in turn sent it to Fleet Admiral Curtis Barnes at Saleon Naval HQ, the primary command center for the Glorious Human nautical fleets. Barnes was glad to get something interesting to do. As he read the message, he whistled softly. The Lavenrunzians weren't screwing around. Hanoway had sent orders that the fleet was to be accomodated at Saleon, and that Fleet Admiral Barnes was to coordinate with the Lavenrunzian commanders.

Barnes was happy to have more ships at his disposal. A large portion of the Glorious Human fleet, including the supercarriers Humanity and Sealord, was in Fyreheart assisting the rebel war effort there. Barnes really wanted to recall them, and he knew Hanoway would've liked to as well, but it was out of their hands. President Albert was adamant that Glorious Humanity would not abandon Fyreheart, in spite of what was happening at home. Hanoway was still trying to get him to reverse that decision, but in the meantime...

Barnes got up and headed for the base's radio room to send a greeting to the Lavenrunzians.

*************************************************************

TO: 2nd Imperial Marine Expeditionary Force
FROM: Naval Command, Saleon Naval Base
RE: Greetings

It's good to see some more friendly faces around here. I have orders to offer the resources of Saleon Naval Base for the duration of your stay in my country. You may enter the military harbor and offload your troops. We'll probably need the help.

*************************************************************

Ministry of International Relations

Frank Pierce was on his fifth cup of coffee. He decided he should've gotten more sleep the previous night, and also decided that as soon as the meeting with the Borg diplomats was over he was going to crash out on the little folding cot sitting behind his desk. He stifled a yawn and turned towards his computer.

The decision to accept Lavenrunzian help had taken Albert all of two minutes to make when Pierce had informed him of the message. Orders had been given appropriately, and now Pierce was going to send a message to Empress Aurora informing her of the decision. She seemed sincere, genuine, and concerned, particularly about Thomas. Pierce decided he liked her. He sent messages to Lavenrunz and then also remembered to send one to the Borg.

*************************************************************

Top Secret, Eyes Only

Dear Empress Aurora,

Thank you for the assistance. Be assured it will be put to good use. Also be assured that if anything new is heard about Thomas I will forward it to you immediately. I think I see why he likes you so much. I will update you as soon as an update is available.

Regards,
Minister Pierce

*************************************************************

TO: Whom it may concern, Chloes Borg Dragons
FROM: Frank Pierce, Minister of Internationals Relations, Glorious Humanity
RE: Diplomats

That is acceptable. I have notified the President and he is ready to meet you. Please inform us where you will be touching down. Attached are coordinates of the main government buildings in Dulles, I advise landing near one of them. Security is at its tightest near there, and I'm sure you can understand that we don't want any of our leaders having to travel too far in this... unfriendly atmosphere.

*************************************************************

The Academy

Though the government's communication was very tightly organized, the government was fighting its own. That meant that there was the occaisional traitor, even in the highest halls.

One such traitor was part of Naval Command. This traitor learned of the Lavenrunz support. Then the traitor placed a short phone call from a cell phone registered to another name. The phone call was picked up in Loren, and then the message was relayed to the Academy. The relay was done without using any more electronics. Not all the rebel psychics were in the Academy.

The telepath in the Academy who received the message transcribed it exactly as it had been told to him, then carried it to Sader. When the knock came on his door, Sader got up to answer it. Holmes didn't even move, still playing with the strange technology. She felt she was really getting the hang of this, and was starting to experiment, to see what she could unlock. She still had every intention of taking a swing at decoding their minds by herself later, but maybe this technology wasn't as bad as she thought.

When Sader came back though, he was holding a crumpled piece of paper in his hand, and his expression was stone. Holmes knew her lover well enough to know he was very angry at something. She didn't even have to look at him, her connection with his mind carried the feelings of rage to her own thoughts. As he sat down again she removed the glasses and set the computer aside, looking at him curiously.

What is wrong?

Wordlessly, he thrust the paper at her. She carefully unfolded it and read the message, then looked back at him. Her expression said it all, the slightly smug smirk saying Told you so without using any words, vocal or mental. She felt the need to add words though.

"Not good enough friends, are they?" she inquired mockingly.

Sader just glared at her for a moment, then turned to face the Der Angstians. "A new situation has arisen and we are going to have to take more direct action to set back the government now." He stood. "I must have words with some sympathizers. I would suggest that your people get out of Dulles immediately. Within the next three hours."

"I see," Asad answered after a moment. "May we inquire why?"

"You may," Sader answered. "In three hours time, Dulles will be a crater in the ground."

*************************************************************

Office of Military Intelligence, Satelliete Control

It had been a slow day for Lt. Colonel Russell Peterson. Despite the excitement of the revolt, he hadn't seen much of interest. The most entertaining occurence of the day had been the storm, which destroyed satelliete imagery for a while. When they'd gotten it back, nothing seemed changed. All quiet on the Glorious Human front.

Despite its name, the building that ran the spy satellietes of Glorious Humanity was actually not even part of the central government complex. It was a nondescript place six blocks from the official MI office. From the outside, it looked like an apartment complex, and since it was in a neighborhood of them nobody paid attention to it. The block it was on was full of apartments for those with big paychecks who wanted to be close to work. Many minor government employees lived in the area. The big difference between this building and the ones around it was that the only tenants it had were Military Intelligence spooks, most of them working in SatCon.

As part of the cover, it really did have tenants. Peterson's apartment was four floors above his head, on the second aboveground floor. The real action though, was found beneath the building. There was a basement and a subbasement below the building. The basement was normal for an apartment complex, with all the storage rooms, boiler rooms, and other such accoutrements needed to run a classy apartment complex. The subbasement was only reached through a special elevator hidden in the building. Surprisingly, it wasn't in the basement. It was in Lt. Colonel Peterson's living room on the second floor.

Peterson was a balding man in his fifties, though his hair color and hair follicle loss was the only sign of his age. He was still in excellent physical condition, due to the fact that he determinedly worked out and refused to let his mostly immobile posting make him immobile. The same could not be said for all the men he oversaw. His office was raised about fifteen feet above the central work floor, and all the walls were windows. This allowed him to look out at the rows of computers that were the heart of the area. The wide-open space had about fifty terminals, all manned. Different sections of the room handled reports from different parts of the world. It looked very much like the command center for a civilian space program, but the only part of this place that had anything to with space was that the spies were up there. This room was concerned with the planet.

A small movement caught his eye. Major Stan Mannings, the group leader for the "homefront", the satelliete group that watched Glorious Humanity itself, had gotten up from his terminal and was going to look at something one of the other guys was checking out. Every section of the group had an experienced officer leading it, keeping the frequently rookie staff on task. Mannings was shaking his head. Then he walked back to his own station and Peterson could see him lifting the internal phone next to his screen that allowed him to reach Peterson's office directly. Peterson reached over and grabbed his receiver before it even beeped.

"What's up, Stan?"

"Better come see this sir," Mannings answered.

*************************************************************

Kilyton Nuclear Facility
Fifteen minutes later

He had the orders. This was it. York had been kind of dreading this moment, while at the same time being thrilled by it. He was about to do the unthinkable that was oh so thinkable now. And doable.

He was in the system now. The weapons were at his fingertips. Ten missiles carrying destruction to anywhere he chose. It was intoxicating, that power. With a few commands, he could sign the death warrant for any place he desired. He already knew what the first target would be of course. He was only waiting to find out if he would be sending their execution to them.

One minute ago, his radio had crackled. He'd switched to a rebel frequency after the fighting ended so he could communicate with comrades topside. When he'd lifted the radio to his lips and acknowledged, he'd heard Captain Pelletreu speak three words:

"Fire. Primary Target."

And now York was picking that target, bypassing the final levels of security for a shot to be fired.

*************************************************************

Office of Military Intelligence, Satelliete Control

It took thirty seconds for Peterson to reach Mannings' station. He leaned over Mannings' shoulder to look at the screen as the Major began explaining.

"One of our sats just made a pass over the eastern part of the country," he said. "The kid on station twelve thought it took an interesting shot of Kilyton and called me over. Take a look, I've got his stuff on my screen."

Peterson looked, and whistled softly. "Lotta activity."

"Yeah, plus it almost looks like some of the buildings are damaged," Mannings replied. "I've got the satelliete moving back over it to take some high-intensity shots. The first ones should be arriving in a few moments."

*************************************************************

Kilyton Nuclear Facility
Topside

Everyone who was out and about around the base heard it. A slow rumbling, coupled with flashing lights, sirens, and an automated voice over the base's PA system informing all personnel to get clear of the silo doors. Past the command center was a flat concrete expanse, with ten square, closed holes in it. Six of those holes were now opening.

*************************************************************

Office of Military Intelligence, Satelliete Control

"Mother of God," Mannings whispered as the pictures began arriving. "Kilyton's going hot."

"Going hot" meant that a nuclear silo had opened and it appeared a missile was being prepped for launch. On the latest pictures, Mannings and Peterson could see six silos opening.

"How'd they do that?" Peterson wondered out loud. "Where are they getting clearance?" He was very familiar with the nuclear firing procedures for his country's weapons, and he knew that several codes were needed.

"I dunno sir," Mannings answered. "But there they are, in all their ugly glory."

"Keep on it," Peterson ordered. It was unneccessary, since the Lt. Colonel was not going to move from this spot himself now.

*************************************************************

Kilyton Nuclear Facility
Underground

York sighed in brief annoyance at the computer. He'd punched in the coordinates for the strike and now the machine was flashing a message:

WARNING! Target within specified GH borders. Please reenter access codes to confirm.

Stored on the computer mainframe, of which this machine was a terminal, was a map of the world. Glorious Humanity's borders were marked on that map, and anytime the machine was given a target within the borders of the country, it gave this warning and required the passcodes again. This was supposed to prevent terrorists from firing Glorious Humanity's own missiles at them. It was a final failsafe designed to stop exactly what York was about to do. However, it took York two minutes to get around it. First, he punched in the Director's code, then bypassed the President's authorization the same way he'd done before. The final level of clearance fell away, and the computer displayed a final message:

Clearance confirmed. Preparing to launch.

York leaned back and sighed with deep satisfaction. It was nice to be God.

*************************************************************

Office of Military Intelligence, Satelliete Control

Lt. Colonel Russel Peterson had seen many scary things on his satellietes. Nothing though, was as bas as the next shot. It made his blood turn to ice and his throat close up.

The next photograph from the satelliete clearly showed six missiles rising out of silos and taking to the skies. The picture after that was just contrails.

"Oh. My. God," Manning was staring at the picture too. "Sir? What do we do?"

Peterson was already moving at a dead run back to his office. He raced inside, went straight to his desk, and lifted the receiver for the hardline to MI headquarters.

Director Fox got it on the second ring. "Director's Office."

"Director, this is Lt. Colonel Peterson, Satcon," Peterson identified himself. "We have just picked up a Class One emergency."

1404 Zulu
Drakonian Intelligence Agency Heaquarters
Drakonia, Drakonian Imperium
Near Augustus

"Did you get through," Arleigh Markenson asked over the phone.

"No," was the reply from the face on his telephone. "No one on the recieving end apparently."

The face on the video screen was that of one of the upper level administrators in the Drakonian Diplomatic Corps., not Director Diana Minerva. Something that made Arleigh a bit disappointed; he had been hoping for her, but he understood. With what was transpiring in the Drakonian capital, it was very understandable.

"So they didn't get the message," he asked

"No."

The Director swore. "Make them listen. This is not something we can just throw aside cause no one is answering the phone."

"Yes, sir." The man seemed much more respectful of the Director, even if the Director wasn't his boss.

Arleigh cut the connection and decided he had better pay a visit to the Situation Room to find out the latest. Standing he made his way from his office to the nerve center of the Drakonian Intelligence Agency. It was just as he walked through the door that it happened.

"Director!" Somewhere in the Situation Room someone was going stark raving mad. "We've got activity at Kilyton, weapons activity!"

The Director swore again, this time a bit more vividly. "Is there anything scheduled," Arleigh yelled across the command center.

"Not that we know of," the Assistant Director confirmed everyone's suspicions. The man had seemed to appear at the Director's side from nowhere.

"Damn it! What happened to national courtesy." The Director continued his swearing.

"Probably went out the door, when whatever happened at Kilyton happened." Both men were briskly walking to the regional intelligence station where the latest satellite information was being relayed.

"That's what I was afraid of." The Director could just imagine General Eris Kington, the commander of Drakonian's Missile Command, going utterly crazy.

"Missile Defense is going active," someone across the room called out. "Tracking multiple...six targets. Trajectory indicates Dulles as the target."

The Director was not the type of man to swear profusely, except was he was seriously angry or seriously concerned. Now, he was both and the colorfulness of his language indicated it very clearly. "You're sure," was all the intelligent language he could get out.

It took the man across the room too long to answer. "Not entirely."

"Get me General Kingston at Talon Military Base and I want to talk to some high up in the GH government an hour ago." The Director's statement demanding to talk to someone "an hour ago" imply the import of the situation and the fact that he wanted to talk to the indicated person faster than immediately.

"On it, Sir."

1405 Zulu
Talon Military Base
Northwest Drakonia, Drakonian Imperium
Missile Command Center

General Eris Kingston was a strong willed, strong bodies woman, and not the person you messed with, something she made sure to reminded everyone. She was of a moderate age, but not old, yet she still bore an amazing physique. The sign of age, in her, were kept at bay by her rigorous regime of exercise and it showed. She had a face of stone that not even the mightiest of hammer could break or force to show emotion.

At the moment, it remained scarily emotionless. "Can we confirm their targets?"

"Still unsure, Ma'am." The officer she was standing over was working furiously on the computer in front of him. "Target still appears to be Dulles."

"Can we eliminate the targets?" The General was insistant. She had a feeling this was not some weapons test. In the past, the Glorious Humans had always informed Drakonian of any tests, to ensure there were no misunderstandings.

The Colonel beside her responded. "Can do, but I don't think the Glorious Humans would like us shooting our interceptors over their territory."

"They would if it saved their capital," the General responded ending the argument. But, she understood the need for a diplomatic approach. "Contact, the Diplomatic Corps. and Intelligence. I want a direct line to Glorious Humanity and I want it ASAP."

"Understood, Ma'am," the chorus replied, as a young lieutenant rushed over. "Ma'am, I've got the Director of Intelligence on line, wanting to talk to you."

The General turned promptly to the young man, her quick movements the only show of her surprise at the immediate answer to her order. "Patch me through," she commanded, commendeering a workstation and pulling a tele-conferencing interface.

In a matter of minutes, message from the Drakonian Intelligence Agency, the Drakonian Diplomatic Corps, and the Imperial Drakonian Military had swarmed their way in to Glorious Humanity. All asking pretty much the same thing, what was going on? Among those messages were several asking for an immediate video conference.

Asad chuckled. He wasn´t a telepath, and didn`t know what exactly Holmes was doing, but he [i9did[/i] notice her trying things she wasn´t supposed to do...

Not that he would mind it, it didn`t exactly disturb him, since he was pretty much used to intriders in his mind... Was to be expected when living in DA.

Still... he didn`t like the idea of her continuing this... It wasn`t impossible for her to crack his mind, that much was certain. And with enough time and efford...

Well, he would see.

Sader just glared at her for a moment, then turned to face the Der Angstians. "A new situation has arisen and we are going to have to take more direct action to set back the government now." He stood. "I must have words with some sympathizers. I would suggest that your people get out of Dulles immediately. Within the next three hours."

"I see," Asad answered after a moment. "May we inquire why?"

"You may," Sader answered. "In three hours time, Dulles will be a crater in the ground."


Asad didn´t show any signs of being nervous. Nor did he seem to be scared. He was almost... emotionless.

"Well... that`s a pity. May I take this back?" He asked, with a thin smile in his face, taking the laptop back. He logged in, quickly, [ooc: I`m assuming he can connect to the web while being at the academy. If not, I will edit.] and send the (somewhat encoded) message to one of his superiors, hanging out in a cybersex chatroom.

Of course, it wasn`t exactly save, but then... better than nothing. Besides, who would probably notice it, considering the sheer amount of data?

"And done... Well, I`m sure they will make it in time."

Dulles, 1.5 hours later

"EH?"
"What`s up?"
"The rebels... According to this, they just fired a nuke at Dulles..."

The other three standing in the room were, like, frozen. "You ain´t serious."
"I am. We need to get out of here, NOW."
"Indeed..."

Quickly, they left their hotel, and took the car they rented a day ago. "Well... At least we wont need to pay for it."
"... You really hate negoative thinking, yes?"
"Why? It`s true, isn`t it?"
"The others just shaked their heads. "Well... At least we have this shiny interview with one of their semi- nazis... Might be useful."
"Indeed... Lemme check it, again... 'The telepaths are a threat to us, and our purity'. Good stuff.2
"Yeah. And here: 'Violence is nothing but defence against the threats that threaten us, and our children. If necessary, we cannot hold back, we need to take out the disease, the cancer that is about to destroy us.' We should go back to him..."
"I invited him to some 'private talks'. We do not exactly have the equipment for a professional operation, but hey... A chance is a chance. To bad he is about to die."
"Indeed... He, be careful! That was red!"
"Who cares... Oh, damn, isn`t she gorgeous?"
"She`s charcoal... Well, she will be, soon."
"Envious, Maria?"
"Shut up."

Just a few seconds after Frank Pierce send the message three greenish cylinders of light appeared a little in front of his desk. The cylinders dissipated in mere moments, leaving three strange figures behind. The middle one was an imposing figure almost two meters tall, covered almost entirely in spiked black armor with green and red lights glowing here and there behind armor plates. Only a little over half his face wasn’t covered by the black material, one of his eyes covered by a red laser that reminded Frank uncomfortably of a targeting laser, as it swept over him. The half of his face not covered by the armor was almost as dark as the armor, except where a small tube entered his skin there it was discolored to a metalish grey. His eyes and short cropped hair where a ethereal shade of silver, and he had long pointed ears, but otherwise he might almost pass for human, if it weren’t for the aura of power that somehow flowed from him.

The companion to his left was even more threatening, its main body a rotund ball, almost three meters in diameter, with two great ears, each vaguely lightning-bolt shaped, each ear over one and a half meters long, it had also two stubby arms and legs, and the entire thing would have looked comical if not for it’s ‘face’. Beneath it’s beady black eyes where nine huge tentacles, each of which was partially replaced by a cyborg equivalent, all of them ending in different tools. Other than that he looked much like the center one, with black armor covering much of it’s body, except that yellowish fur was left exposed on far more of it’s body, and it had far less glowing things.

The third was very different, apparently a small human girl of around 14 or so with long blonde hair, pink armor with little powder blue symbols all over it, including hearts, supper deformed teddy bears, and so on. This was the one which was least covered by the armor, and the only one to have something in her hands, a very light pink Pegasus, and she just exuded an aura of cuteness. Even from the massive pink scythe with the blue and yellow bows tied to it that was somehow attached to her back.

Before anyone could react the middle one stepped forwards and extended his hand to Frank, saying; “We are the Borg. I am Darth TreeDancer, Chief diplomat until a full time diplomat can be assigned here. This,” he gestured to the monstrosity to his left, “is Pikathulhu, he’s in charge of communications.”
Pikathulhu made a grumbling noise and a slight bow. At this point the girl started talking, “And I am Maria, the Cleric of Cute.” Followed by a cute bow from her.
Darth TreeDancer: “I do hope our arrival hasn’t disturbed you, and I would like to once again express our thanks for your concern for our safety.”

Tag

Ministry of International Relations
3:15 PM

Pierce nodded, standing up and offering a hand for them to shake. "It's good to meet all of you. I am Minister Frank Pierce, and I welcome you to Glorious Humanity." Before any of them could take the offered hand though, Pierce's phone started ringing urgently. He picked up the receiver and listened to the voice on the other end, his face going pale.

"You're sure? Absolutely?" he demanded after a moment. He listened some more then muttered. "Christ..." He replaced the phone on its hook and looked at the Borg diplomats. "I'm afraid this meeting is going to have to be cut very short. I've just gotten a report that the rebels have launched nuclear weapons against Dulles. The government is evacuating, and you'd probably better get back to your ship. We'll send you an update as soon as possible."

*************************************************************

Outside

The complex was chaos. High ranking officials were being hustled into transport choppers that were landing wherever a wide enough place for them to touch down was. A screen of soldiers kept the general populace away from the evacuation, as the panicky citizens tried to find out what was going on. Throughout the city, the public emergency broadcast system's loudspeakers came to life, informing all civilians to prepare to leave the city in an orderly manner.

Naturally of course this was ignored. Within twenty minutes word was all over town about what had happened and the streets were clogged with cars carrying the fleeing population. The Dulles police force did everything they could to organize things, but there was very little they could do to stop the pandemonium.

Back at the Council Building, President Albert was being hustled to a waiting chopper, surrounded by President's Guard with assault rifles, and another squad clearing the way to the helicopter that would take him safely out of reach of the explosion.

*************************************************************

On a rooftop two blocks away, a man in civilian clothes lay prone, paying no attention to the boiling heat beating down on him and also radiating up from the concrete of the rooftop. His clothing was thick enough to prevent burns, and even if it hadn't been he wouldn't have cared. This was his chance to redeem himself.

The first attempt to remove some key officials had been thoroughly botched by the incompetant intelligence. But now, with the evacuation, a second chance had been given, and this time to not just capture the targets, but to kill them.

"Have you got anything yet?" his earpiece chirped. The earpiece was connected to a radio hidden inside his jacket. From his position he had a clear shot at the front entrance of the Council building, and hopefully something would appear to shoot at.

"Nothing yet," he answered. Then, "Wait, target one leaving the building with guards. I've got him." He closed one eye and looked down his M40 sniper rifle's scope, bringing the crosshairs onto the President. Aim at the eye, take a breath, steady, release breath, squeeze trigger slowly...

*************************************************************

As Albert turned to the left towards the chopper, one of his guards stumbled and bumped him. The President stumbled forward one step and almost fell down. This completely accidental touch was all that saved his life.

He didn't even hear the supersonic crack of the bullet that a split second before would've ventilated his skull. His left shoulder exploded in fire as a spray of red was blasted out of it. Albert howled with pain, starting to fall again, but this time two of his guards caught him and half-dragged him to the chopper while the others formed a tight ring, moving so close together they were in danger of tripping each other in order to put a human wall between the President and any direction of attack.

*************************************************************

Shit! The sniper racked the bolt on his rifle, swearing to himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid! When the President had stumbled he'd made the mistake of following his target down, and when Albert had suddenly straightened again, his shot had been too low to be fatal. He tried to orient for another one, but by that time the group had reached the helicopter and were getting on board.

Goddammit. He'd failed. Now he had to get out of the city and face his superior.

That was when he heard the thumping of rotors, and realized that escaping the nukes might not be his first priority.

*************************************************************

"The President is hit! The President has been shot!" the radio in Drop 16 squawked. Drop 16 was the designation for a Blackhawk transport that was coming in with a squad of soldiers to help keep the civvies at bay. "Does anybody see the shooter? Everybody in the air now look for him!"

"Copy that," Drop 16's pilot answered, then swung his chopper around, speaking into the vehicle's internal commlink. "In you case you didn't hear, the President was just shot. We're sweeping the roofs for the shooter." He began climbing, trying to get a better vantage, when he caught a flash of something on one of the roofs. He looked again, more carefully. "Base, Drop 16 sees a man. Looks young, athletic, civvie clothes, and a big rifle. I think he's our boy."

"Copy Drop 16. Get him." The radio answered.

"Yes sir," the pilot answered, already banking his helicopter towards the man.

*************************************************************

The sniper looked up, and saw the chopper bearing down on him. More mental swearing, then he abandoned his rifle and was up and running. At the other end of the rooftop was an unlocked door that led into the building, he could get away there and vanish into the crowds on the street.

*************************************************************

"He's going for the door," the pilot said over the internal comms. "Squad, get him."

In the passenger section of the Blackhawk, one of the soldiers threw the chopper's side door open. The men saw their target immediately and perceived the situation. The squad sharpshooter dropped to one knee in the chopper's doorway, bracing himself and aiming his own rifle at the fleeing man's destination.

*************************************************************

The sniper had almost reached the door when he heard gunfire, and little puffs of concrete and smoke began being kicked up around his feet. He stumbled, but then realized he wasn't hit and kept running. He was only a couple feet from the door...

Ping! Ping!

Bullets richoched off the metal door. The sniper couldn't stop himself before he hit the door, and he started to fumble for the handle.

Ping! Ping!

More rounds bounced off the door. The startled sniper leaped back, and then bullets were kicking up the ground in front of him, making him step back again and again, methodically herding him away from the door.

The rotors were blowing his clothes now. He looked to the left and saw the chopper only fifteen feet away, prearing to touch down. He could see soldiers waiting to leap off.

He couldn't escape. He sighed, swore one more time, and raised his hands above his head.

*************************************************************

The sharpshooter stayed in the chopper, covering the rest of the squad who leaped out and ran towards the prisoner with rifles ready. As they shouted orders at him he dropped to his knees, then facedown on the ground.

The pilot spoke into his radio. "Base, this is Drop 16. We've got him."

*************************************************************

Air Force HQ, just outside Dulles

While the evacuation of the city was in progress, the Air Force's primary command center twenty miles from Dulles was trying to figure out how to bring the nukes down before they hit anything. They had direct orders from Air Force Supreme Commander Florence Washington to do anything necessary to stop the bombs from hitting.

The obvious first move, of course, was to deploy El Dorado squadron. A special task force of elite pilots, El Dorado fielded modified F-16 fighters carrying special GH-N "Defuser" missiles. Armed with a low-impact warhead and high speed and maneuverability, the GH-Ns were specifically designed to intercept ICBMs in flight. El Dorado was the only squadron that used them regularly, as that was El Dorado's purpose: to fly out and nail nuclear weapons aimed at Glorious Humanity.

Unfortunately, that job meant that the squadron had to be scattered all over Glorious Humanity, as a nuclear strike could come from any direction. The vast majority of the planes were too far away to reach the city before the bombs hit. Only one team was close enough to attempt an intercept, the fifteen-plane Gold team based at the Air Force HQ.

Gold Captain Terrance Jacobs was no stranger to shooting down nukes. He had foreign combat experience under his belt, having been one of the pilots sent to Drakonia to shoot down missiles aimed at that country during the aborted war with the FKC. He'd been training for a day like this since joining the squadron, though he'd hoped and prayed that it would never come.

Now though, the air raid sirens were yelling, and the base PA system was calling. "All El Dorado Gold team pilots report to the briefing room."

Briefing, Jacobs thought, shaking his head. The "briefing" would last three minutes, they'd get coordinates and an admonition to do their jobs and serve their country. Then they'd hit the skies to do the job they'd all prayed they'd never have to. They were going to have to stop six nukes from hitting Glorious Humanity.

Saelon Naval Base, Glorious Humanity

Amphibious Landing Ship Bifrost was the first to dock, clamshell doors swinging open.
Admiral Carlotta de Goethe, one of Lavenrunz' most highly decorated commanders, sent a request to meet with Admiral Barnes personally. General Dietrich, commanding the Marines, stood, a martial figure, grenades on his webbing, his blunt scarred face like that of a statue save for his blue eyes that flickered now and then. He was clearly visible to the marines as they marched down off the ramps, or in other cases rode armored vehicles down, big eight wheeled Vogelhunds in a number of varieties mostly. However, as the LST Mittelmarch came rolling in, a battalion of Grendel III tanks rumbled down the ramps, camouflage freshly redone after desert service in Iraqstan, the 120mm muzzles of their guns pointed ahead.
The marines, many of them veterans, were still curious as children as they glanced at the sights around them. The sailors were a little more jaded; one dock was like another, one harbour just another place that they might or might not have some leave in. They were mostly busy manhandling equipment, working refuelling hoses into locking positions, and readying aircraft for takeoff.
Blunt nosed Seekonig utility helicopters were most of the air complement, but there was also a twelve plane squadron of Harriers.
The Admiral sent a message to the marines, sailors and aviators of the expedition.

To All Personnel

Know that we are here on a mission to support the Government of our Allies, and will do so the best of our capability. In all matters in which the Empress extends Her lawful Power, the Almighty's Providence is with us, so long as we do our duty, to the Crown, to each other as comrades, and as Christian people. Do not hesitate if necessary to do all that is within your ability to halt this rebellion and restore full power to the lawful Government of Glorious Humanity.
In the Name of Her Majesty Empress Aurora and of Almighty God
I wish you the best of fortunes in this endeavor.
Admiral Carlotta de Goethe
Commander in Chief
II Marine Expeditionary Force

A coupe of kilometers outside Dulles

The four men had stopped, preferring a short break on the green meadows, full of beautiful flowers they found there.

"Are you sure we`re save here?"
"Yes. Well, depending on the type of the bomb, radiation could become quite nasty, but..."
Errr..."
"I`m joking, man! Joking!"
"Ok... I will take your word for it..."
"In any case... a fascinating view... I have always wanted to see a nuclear detonation... And now this... This entire city is doomed!"
"Yeah... you have any snacks?"

A few F16 came in sight, a fascinating view... although fairly loud, they could hardly talk to each other, so they switched to telepathic communication.

Wow... impressive.
Impressive? OUtdated, you mean.
Oh, come on my dear...
Don`t call me 'dear'. I dumped you last month.
Errr... You two...
Sorry.
Sorry.
Anyway... Anyone has sunglasses?
Uh... No. You?
No. Shit. How long until...?
One hour, or something like that. I wonder how we will contact the psychic resistance, once the city is, you know... A crater.
A good question... Well, we will see. Anyone want some vodka?
Yes!

And so, they sat there, amusing themselves, one of them even had a deck of cards, and soon, they begun playing, waiting for the inevitable...

It would be great fireworks.

The one called Darth spoke up, “The incoming nukes I’m assuming? We have plenty of time before they are in the optimal intercept zone, assuming you even want us to intercept them.”
Internally he wasn’t nearly as self-assured as he seemed, the nukes where outside of the expected scenario’s and the collective was scrambling to adjust their scenario’s accordingly. He though his reaction was good, but with only one mind it was so hard to be sure sometimes. ‘How did I ever live without the collective’, he though to himself. To be such a small being, allways alone, living a short and miserable live, never truly understanding anything... he almost wept for them, he understood why other colectives less enlightened could commit the great crime of mindrape and assimilate entire species even if they where not willing. It was simply mercy uopn the less fortunate. Darths train of thought was broken when the human responded, it was still hard to think of the term human with anything but disgust, but he was learning. Dismissing such irrelevant thoughts from his mind Darth concentrated on his assingment.

1517 Zulu
Saleon
Glorious Humanity, Nusquam Esse
Reentering Portside Suburb

Leo Flavius had just arrived back in the city, after picking up the Black Gold Intelligence Action Team along the coast. He found them as expected, the young, brash, and attack-first, think-second types. But they seemed competent he at least admitted.

"So what's our mission, boss," one of them interrupted his thoughts. The emphasis on the "our" clearly meaning Leo was not part of it.

He ammended annoying to the list of words that described the Intelligence Team.

The mission, was something that Leo had been trying to figure out since he had arrived in Glorious Humanity. An assault on the Psychics' Academy was out, which had been proven by the military. Leo would have to go through other means to 'promote stability'. What Leo had finally decided on was the easiest possible option that he deemed likely to promote results.

"We're going to monitor the returning Psychics," he responded, emphasizing the "we" to show his involvement. "If they decide to resist, the Glorious Humanity Military isn't likely to be capable of stopping them. So we're going to stop them, by all mean necessary."

After that, the SUV rental drove on, in silence.

Saleon Naval Base

Barnes was out on the docks to meet them five minutes later, trailed by two aides wearing lieutenant's stripes. The docks were abuzz with activity, as Glorious Human soldiers helped the Lavenrunzians unload supplies. There were also an a lot of armed soldiers running around, forming up into units. It looked like they were getting ready for something themselves.

"Good day Admiral," Barnes greeted the Lavenrunzian commander, snapping a crisp salute to her. "It's good to see more friendly faces around here. I'm sorry to cut the pleasantries short, but we need to get inside immediately. The rebels have managed to launch nuclear missiles against the capital, I'll explain the full situation along the way."

*************************************************************

The skies over Glorious Humanity
One hour to impact

"All planes report in," Captain Jacobs said over his radio.

"Gold Two ready to rock," came the voice of Sean Pearlman, Jacob's second, off his right wing.

"Gold Three all go," was the next answer, from Samantha Hawkins on his left. One by one the team checked in in numerical order. They were flying in a V formation about ten thousand feet off the ground, at the missiles' cruising altitude.

"Alright ladies and germs," Captain Jacobs said after the check-in was done. "We should be getting our targets any moment now." He was watching the small radar display in front of him for the first signs of his quarry. His hands were tense on the flight stick.

"Gold Three, I've got 'em," Hawkins spoke over the radio. Jacobs had just seen them too, approaching fast from the east.

He switched his radio band to HQ. "Base, this is Gold Captain, we have just acquired the birds on radar. Should be getting visual any second now."

*************************************************************

Air Force HQ, just outside Dulles

"Copy that Gold Captain," the radioman assigned to maintain contact, a young man barely out of his teens named Cole Hilton, replied. "We have just acquired them ourselves on long range, moving in a loose line towards Dulles. Estimated time to impact, fifty-two minutes."

*************************************************************

The skies over Glorious Humanity

"Copy that, Base," Captain Jacobs answered. He looked forward again, his eyes searching the blue skies around his cockpit for the missiles that were carrying doom to the city. "Anyone see them yet?"

"No sir," Pearlman answered. "I- wait, wait, there they are. Line of six at twelve o'clock."

"Alright, I see them too," Jacobs replied. "Move up into a line, we'll do a flip 'n kill." There were a chorus of affirmatives.

*************************************************************

The Academy

They all knew why they were here. Thirty-two of the strongest and most capable minds in the Corp, fifteen telekinetics and fifteen telepaths, with a pair of duals thrown in for good measure. They were seated in chairs in Sader's quarters, arranged like a row of schoolchildren, though there were no desks. Just chairs. At the front sat Sader and Holmes, looking at the group.

Sader appraised them carefully. His lieutentants had told him that this bunch was completely loyal and could be trusted to carry out any order, but he was not personally sure yet. He knew that some of his actions were not popular with his underlings. Holmes was, as usual, skimming her way through the minds assembled before them, checking for doubt or disloyalty. After a few moments more she gave her lover a quick nod. They were ready.

"Everyone prepare to focus your minds together," Sader began to give instructions crisply. "Telekinetics follow my lead, target the planes. Telepaths, follow Holmes, watch for interferance. Duals, join in as necessary." There were nods of affirmation from the group. He could see a couple shift uncomfortably, and more than a few had sweat on their brows. It was to be expected that some would be nervous. So long as they followed their instructions, Sader would not be angry at them for being a little unsure.

He closed his eyes and started to slow his breathing, going into the trance the psychics always entered when they were using their abilities greatly. "Begin."

*************************************************************

The skies over Glorious Humanity

The fifteen planes dove on Jacobs' signal, sweeping under the missiles. Looking up briefly, Jacobs saw the six contrails pass over his cockpit. "Alright, flip!"

As one the planes came up again, making a C shape in the sky as they curved to come up behind the missiles. They leveled off upside-down, then righted themselves.

"Golds 1-6 will acquire a lock," Jacobs instructed. "Fire on my mark. The rest of you, be ready to take your shots just in case we miss." He activated the tracking system that would acquire targets for the four Defuser missiles riding under the wings of his fighter. He locked on to the middle nuke and prepared to fire. It was unlikely they'd miss, the nukes weren't making any attempt to evade at all. ICBMs rarely did.

"Sir, something's wrong with my stick," Pearlman suddenly spoke.

"What is it?" Jacobs inquired.

"It's jerking a little, like it wants to turn. Weren't these things just checked?" Pearlman asked. Before Jacobs could answer, Pearlman's voice changed to shock. "What the-" Abruptly Gold Two banked hard to the right.

"Gold Two what the hell are you doing?!" Jacobs demanded.

"I'm not doing it Cap!" Pearlman's voice came over. "The stick shifted by itself. I- AUUUUUGHHHHH!!!"

Jacobs looked to the left and his blood froze. Off of Pearlman's right Gold Four had made a similiarly hard bank to the left, straight towards. He heard Gold Four's pilot echo Pearlman's scream just before the two planes collided. A spectacular fireball lit up the sky, then the burning wrecks began their descent back to earth.

"Oh my God..." Jacobs breathed. Then his radio lit up with Gold team pilots.

"My control's gone!"

"My stick just shifted by itself!"

"Gold Fourteen change course, we're gonna hit!"

"Gold Eleven, I can't!"

BOOM! Another fireball announced the destruction of two more planes. The pilots didn't even get to scream that time. All around Jacobs' plane explosions lit up, coupled with shouted warnings and screams over the radio.

My God, what's happening? "Break formation!" he shouted into his radio. "All Gold team break formation! Scatter! Scatter!"

The remaining Gold planes scattered in every direction.

1540 Zulu
Talon Military Base
Northwest Drakonia, Drakonian Imperium
Missile Command Center

"Did you see that," someone yelled.

The same satellite network that had monitor the attack on the Kilyton Nuclear Facility had just monitored the failure of El Dorado's Gold Team. The same team that had won fame during the Nuclear Incident in Drakonia.

General Eris Kingston was watching the whole thing, as was her staff. They all were in the Command Center watching the developing situation. She stood at the back, behind a computer station, too surprised to speak. The computer monitor suddenly came alive with the face of Director Arliegh Markinson.

The Missile Command Center, which made up the nerve center of Talon Military Base and indeed the entire Drakonian Missile Defense Network, was large. Computer stations were arrayed in rows of semi-circles leading out from a series of monitors at the far end of the room. The monitors were huge. The design was practical and exactly like that of the Situation Room in the Headquarters of the Drakonian Intelligence Agency, even if it's purpose was not. Three large video monitors made up the bulk of the front of tall wide room. On either side of them were smaller monitors displaying less important information.

On one of those monitors the video feed from the satellites was being displayed, on another a diagram of the events, tracking the ICBMs as they moved toward their target. The final large monitor was displaying a map of Nusquam Esse where Drakonia in the northeast, Tersanctus in the northwest, Glorious Humanity in the south were all visible. The smaller monitors were displaying the various Missile Countermeasure Systems available to stop the ICBMs. All in all, it was an impressive setup.

The General looked down, finally speaking. "I've got command's confirmation to go ahead with Operation Unilateral, if left with no other option. What I just saw gives me...no other option."

The Director looked concerned. "Everyone in Dulles is pretty much in a panic mode. No one is talking to us."

"Then I go," she replied.

"It seems we have no other choice, then to let Dulles be destroyed." The Director was stern. "And that's not a choice at all."

"Agreed," the General affirmed. "I'll do my job then, and hope the Glorious Humans appreciated it."

For a second there was no reply. The Director had not wanted it to come to this, nor had anyone, but they had to help, whether it cause more problems or not.

"God help us. God help them." The video feed cut.

General Eris Kingston straightened, staring across the large command center to the monitors at it's other end. "We have a go on Unilateral," she commanded. "Let's do this." There were nods from around the room confirming her military staff's readiness.

"Confirm Unilateral, with the Diplomatic Corps. and confirm their broadcasts to GH," she issued the first order. Confirmation was instantaneous, from Luietenant linked to the Drakonian Diplomatic Corps. His confirmation made clear that even if anyone in the Glorious Humanity government or military wasn't responding to the Drakonian, they were being informed of Drakonia's unilateral actions.

The General proceeded. "Launch Long-Range Interceptors from Tall Grass," she issued the second order.

On one of the small screens a series of large missiles launched from their silos and arched toward the southwest. Satellites guiding them toward their faraway targets. On the large map a series of flashing dots appeared march the ICBMs, a second series of solid dots appeared from Drakonia's southwestern border with Glorious Humanity. Both sets were far apart, but the solid ones were moving fast to remedy that.

"Time to intercept," the General asked.

"Fourty eight minutes," came the reply.

Too close. The ICBMs were fifty minutes from their targets. She proceeded to her next option. "Launch Kinetic Interceptors," she ordered.

There was a "Yes, Ma'am" confirmation and then one of the smaller monitors showed a series of small missiles launch away from a satellite. They streaked toward Earth. Another of the smaller monitors show the Kinetic Interceptors (as solid dots) make their way down through the atmosphere. They would reach their targets much quicker.

Hopefully, one of the groups of missiles would stop the holocaust that was about to land on the panic-stricken city of Dulles. Hopefully.

Admiral de Goethe was appalled, returning the salute automatically. "They launched nuclear weapons? What madness...Admiral, General Dietrich will need to know where the marine division can be best deployed. We have ten thousand marines here--I'm afraid that a carrier group was not sent, due to the tensions in Greater Prussia with regard to the Reich, but there is a guided missile cruiser as you can see, two destroyers, two frigates and six amphibious ships. We have twelve fighter-bombers if you need some assistance in the air." de Goethe was a lean, hard woman, handsome, grey in her fair hair, sky blue eyes and a weathered look to her skin. Her own staff stood quietly nearby. One of them, a lieutenant-commander, was pushing buttons on a palm pilot, with a look of concentration on his face.

Saleon Naval Base

"I think it would be easier to answer your questions if you saw everything firsthand," Barnes answered. "Please, this way."

The command center Barnes led the Lavenrunzians too was a squat concrete building, resembling a bomb shelter, which was part of it's function. It looked decidedly out of place among the warehouses and barracks that surrounded it, and security was tighter. A pair of armed soldiers from Glorious Humanity's own Marine forces stood guard, and they saluted automatically as Barnes approached. The Admiral produced an ID card and slid it through a reader next to the only door into the bunker, and after a moment it slid open. As they walked through the Lavenrunzians had a chance to observe that the door was a foot thick and solid steel.

Inside was a long maze of concrete hallways lighted by flourescents. Barnes led them confidently past several corridors and doors, and through multiple checkpoints. All the security guards were fully armed Marines, and none of the people they passed on the way were ranked any lower than Marine Captain or Naval Lieutenant.

As they walked, Barnes shared a little more information. "Unfortunately we're a little shorthanded in ships too. We've only got one carrier group home, and some coast guard vessels. Fortunately the rebels don't seem to have any kind of navy at all. That's a bright point... about the only one right now."

They arrived at one final checkpoint. There were armed guards here too, and Barnes stopped to show his ID card again, then held his hand up, palm flat. An unseen fingerprint scanner checked his hand, and after confirming his identity let him through.

This room was very large. Banks of computers manned by technicians, radarmen, and radio operators lined the walls, and in the center of the room was a large computer table, with an electronic map laid out on it, constantly updating as new reports and information were received. Three other officers were around it, reading closely. All three looked up and saluted when Barnes entered. The Admiral tossed a half-salute back and quickly made introductions. "Fleet Captain Wong," he started, pointing at an Asian woman. "She's running the carrier group. The man next to her is Marine Colonel Cutter, who's in charge of the sea soldiers, and over there is Army Colonel Matthews, who's running the ground pounders and the Psi Corp detainees here." All three nodded curtly as they were introduced. Their uniforms were somewhat rumpled, and all the men, Barnes included, showed signs of having missed sleep and shaves for at least one day. Wong looked just plain tired.

"We got anything new yet?" Barnes asked, taking a spot by the map and waving the Lavenrunzians over. The map was displaying current known territory control at the moment, blue for government, red for rebels. According to the map, Glorious Humanity was divided into fifteen provinces. Most were government held, with tints ranging from light sky blue to deep sapphire to indicate troop concentrations and strongholds. The rebels held only most of one eastern province, but their entire territory was shown as bright, blood red.

*************************************************************

Air Force HQ

"Gold Team? Gold team?! Gold team answer!" the radio operator was shouting into his microphone, trying to raise the pilots. The whole room was in shock, having watched the slaughter on radar, watched the fighters wink out, pair after pair. People were shaking their heads, wiping their eyes.

Then the radioman's headset crackled. "Base, this is Gold Captain. I'm still here."

*************************************************************

The skies over Glorious Humanity
Thirty minutes to impact

Captain Jacobs was flying very low, only about a thousand feet above the ground. He'd dove right after giving the scatter order, and was watching closely for any of his teammates to pull up near him.

"Gold team, check in," he spoke into his radio.

There was a long moment of silence, then his radio crackled. "This is Gold Three," Hawkins answered. "I'm still flying."

"Gold Six checking in," came another voice. Then: "Gold Nine, I'm here."

Jacobs' radio fell silent again, then a message came from the base. "Gold Captain, damn good to hear from you. How many pilots you got?"

"Four," he answered slowly. "Three wing and myself."

There was a stunned silence on the other end. Then the radio crackled once more. "Gold Captain, evacuate your remaining planes south to Silvercrest Air Force Base. We're going to have to try something else."

Jacobs couldn't believe his ears. They have got to be kidding. "Negative Base, I will not do that."

"Gold Captain you have already lost most of your team. You saw what happened when you went for those missiles. SatCom just picked up a massive Drakonian launch of interceptor missiles, we think they're trying to bring down the nukes themselves."

"Base, you have gotta be shitting me. Who authorized the Drakonians to fire over our airspace?" Jacobs growled.

"Nobody, and some people here are pissed about, don't kid yourself," the radioman answered. "But as it stands those missiles are now our best chance of stopping the nukes. You're to get out of the way."

"With all due respect, Base, I was in Drakonia," Jacobs shot back. "I saw what their missile defences did. If they make the kills it's very likely they'll detonate the nukes on impact."

"Gold Captain, another pass at those missiles could be suicide for you!" the radioman shouted back. "Better they get set off over grassland than Dulles. Get out now, that is an order."

There was a long, long pause. When Jacobs answered, his voice was strangely quiet and composed.

"Negative, Base. We've still got a job to do. Remaining Gold team, reacquire those nukes and let's finish this."

He leaned his stick back, and his plane began climbing again.

De Goethe nodded, folding her arms. "It seems like the thing to do is get all we can into that Eastern Province really fast. What's the best way to get ten thousand marines and whatever you can spare to send in there? I'll need a good look at the roads, bridges, rail lines...also I'll want to set up the marines with the defenses we've used before in...paranormal situations. And what can you tell me about special operations? I have a couple of teams available--Seelow Commandos and so on--but I'd need to know more about available targets."

Saleon Naval Base, command center

"Well, before we can figure that out, we have to figure out where we're defending," Matthews took over now. "There are three possible targets for rebel strikes, all important." He pointed to the locations on the map as he described them. "First, and most obvious, is the city of Loren. It's a bare fifty miles from the Academy, and a population of about eight million. It's the last stronghold we have in the province, and also the provincial capital. The rebels get it, and we're going to lose a valuable jumping off point. Next up, we have Kessel Air Force Base just twenty miles north of the provincial border. We've been moving tons of aircraft into the base, and from it we can fly airstrikes anywhere in the rebel province. However, it's close enough to the border that the rebels could conceivably hit it, and if they shut it down our air support will be hurting. Last is Mount Connor Armor Depot, right on the province's southern border. It's built into a mountain and would be very hard to assault, but the rebels could certainly be tempted to try. Degrass already had a healthy vehicle division that's now in rebel hands, with the tanks and the large ammo and fuel dumps at Mount Conner, they could easily double their armor support, and supply everyone very well."

*************************************************************

Saleon Naval Base, outside

Isolda was in a deep trance, the kind that allowed her mind to reach across almost the entire country. She wasn't the only one, in this little barracks room three other telepaths were also trying to find out what was really going on. They'd been gleaning information for hours, and knew about the nuke launch. They even knew about the government response.

And they knew something the government didn't.

Isolda's eyes suddenly snapped open, and she gasped. The other telepaths came too with similiar startled sounds, and all looked at each other.

"They're fighting," one said slowly. "The rebel psychics are crashing those planes."

Isolda only nodded. How much more of this can I take? First in Fyreheart, now here, she seemed to be constantly thrusting her mind into death and brutality. Now it was her own people doing it.

"What?" That was Larry, he and a few other telekinetics were sitting and watching the group do their thing. "What are you talking about?"

"The rebels are trying to defend the nukes by crashing the planes into each other," Isolda answered. "We have to warn them."

"How?" Someone asked. "They won't listen, they'll just get mad at us for using our abilities."

Larry frowned, thinking. Around him a debate was starting, the psychics arguing back and forth about how and if to give the warning. Larry shook his head. There was no choice.

"We have to tell them," he said quietly. "We have to try at least."

*************************************************************

Saleon Naval Base, command center

"Sir!" The briefing was interrupted by an Army grunt who dashed into the center and hastily saluted Colonel Matthews.

"What is it?" Matthews asked, returning the salute.

"A group of Psi Corp are waiting outside," the grunt answered. "They say they have something important to tell you."

"Probably another demand that we lighten up," Matthews growled. He looked at the others. "Anyone want to come see this?" Barnes nodded.

*************************************************************

The small group turned out to be about twenty psychics, with Larry and Isolda at the front. They were surrounded by armed soldiers who watched the group warily as Colonel Matthews and Admiral Barnes stepped out into the sunlight. The two officers stared at the psychics for a moment, then Matthews grated. "What?"

"Sir, the rebel psychics are making a move," Larry started.

"We know that," Barnes answered. "We know they launched nukes at Dulles. How the hell do you know?"

Very slightly, Larry inclined his head towards Isolda. The two officers' eyes swiveled towards her, taking in the emblem on her uniform, then Matthews' eyes narrowed.

"I believe you were given explicit orders not to exercise your abilities while under-"

"The rebels are crashing planes," Larry cut him off. "A fifteen fighter team launched from the Air Force HQ to intercept the missiles. The rebel telekinetics are slamming them into each other to bring them down, and they've run one into the ground. Check it with the HQ if you don't believe me."

Barnes lifted a radio from his belt to his lips and quietly spoke into it. He got his answer from the command center a few seconds later and his eyes widened a little. Matthews was watching, then he turned back to the psychics.

"Okay fine, so what? We don't have any defense to stop them. We're hoping the Drakonians can bring those missiles down now."

"With all due respect," Larry said slowly, seizing on the idea that suddenly came to him. "You do have a defense."

"What is it?" Matthews demanded.

"To fight fire with fire," Larry answered simply.

The Colonel just stared at him. "You are out of your mind. You think for a moment that I'd give you approval to try your mindbending? You'd probably do even more damage!"

"Sir, do you have a better idea?" Larry inquired. "If we don't do something, Dulles is gone. The rebel psychics can do the same thing to missiles that they did to the planes."

"Then Dulles is lost!" Matthews snapped. "I will not authorize any of your insanity." He started to turn away, but Barnes put a hand on his shoulder.

"Hold it," the Admiral said quietly. He looked directly at Larry. "You really want to help?"

"Sir, we've been accused of a crime we didn't commit," Larry replied. "Doesn't the fact that we're still offering help say something?"

"It does," Barnes replied thoughtfully.

"Look, we can do something about those nukes," Larry said earnestly, seeing his opening. "If you absolutely don't trust us, you can put guards in front of us, and kill us on the spot if we try anything funny. Give us a chance to prove ourselves."

Matthews was silent, although he still was glaring at Larry. Barnes was still thoughtful. Then slowly he nodded, and looked at Matthews for confirmation. The Colonel glared at him for a moment, then his shoulders slumped in defeat, and he nodded slowly.

"Fine," he said. "I'll call some guards."

Barnes patted his shoulder, then turned back to the psychics. "What will you need?"

Admiral de Goethe listened to all this carefully. Her role was to offer assistance. But still...
Years before, she had led Lavenrunz first major foreign expedition in years, to Ienotheisa, as that pacifist nation was surrounded by hostiles including the Grand Duchy of Belfast. Later, she had led three carrier groups against Iesus Christi, seizing a large part of the Channel Islands. When in a subsequent war Iesus Christi's fleet was 'Copenhagened' it was she who had commanded that action. Empress Joanna had called her the fleet's best admiral. She had won that recognition by a combination of shrewdness and daring.
She looked at Barnes and said quietly, "As I see it, there are several points that are vulnerable, that would have to be defended simultaneously. My recommendation would be to attack them instead. This expedition is easily mobilized; it is the only Marine division that is fully mechanized, and wherever there is water my ships can move. Let us take the fight right back at them and smash them where they stand."

1605 Zulu
Atmosphere
Central Glorious Humanity, Nusquam Esse
Interception Zone

The Starfall-Class Kinetic Interceptors dropped from the skies like fiery meteors. Streaks of buring read falling rapidly down on their targets. Target that were locked into each missiles' computer, trajectories augmented as necessary, and doomed to be destroyed when intercepted.

As the missiles neared their targets final alterations to their course were made so they would impact directly on the thrust section of the massive Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles. Just seconds away and they were perfectly on course.

Then something went wrong. The first missile streaked past it's target, missing by only inches. The second did the same. Then the third as well, until all six missiles had missed by the barest of margins.

It had not bee a computer error. The computers had calculated for everything, but that last second push. A push that had not come from rocket engines or air currents.

1606 Zulu
Talon Military Base
Northwest Drakonia, Drakonian Imperium
Missile Command Center

"They missed." It was all anyone in the Command Center could say.

"All six Kinetic Interceptors missed." It was all the young officer could say to General Kingston. "By inches. Inches!"

No one believed it. The Starfall-Class Kinetic Interceptors had been rated to an unbelievable 72% Interception Rate. Yet, every single missile had missed, by inches. It was possible, but extremely improbable.

"There are still the Long-Range Interceptors," someone said. Their chances of impact was much higher.

During the Dyelli Beybian Nuclear strikes against Drakonia it was Long-Range Inteceptors that had destroyed almost all the ICBMs bearing down on Drakonia. Only three out of over two hundred had detonated. Two when they hit their targets, and one when it impact the ocean after having it's navigation equipment disrupted. Since that incident the Interceptors had been improved. Their overall Interception Rate was an amazing 84%.

They were designed to target the thrust portion of the missile dropping them from the sky. But even if they hit the warhead, a detonation was unlikely. This was due to the nature of Nuclear explosions, which require an almost perfect simaltaneous detonation to trigger the chain reaction required to devastate massive areas. Yet, it was a possibility as El Dorado Gold Squadron Captain Jacobs had observed.

But at the moment, it was the least of General Kingston's worried. "Self-Destruct the Kinetics," she ordered her officers. "Before they land on some poor farmer."

"Already done," came the response, as across the continent the missed Kinetic Interceptors were destroyed themselves.

Now it was up to the Long-Range Interceptors.

Saleon Naval Base, barracks

There were nearly forty chairs in the barracks cafeteria, arranged in rows of eight almost like a classroom. Two more chairs faced the rows, and armed soldiers patrolled around the cafeteria, many holding their weapons more tightly than they needed to. Their faces betrayed their unease at the situation.

Rapidly the gray-uniformed psychics began filing in, taking their seats without any words said among themselves. They knew how vital it was that they move quickly. Last in were Larry Soros and Isolda Hilmar, who took the seats at the front.

Larry was sweating from nervousness. The last place he'd wanted to be was at the front, leading them, but Matthews had been adamant. "Your goddamn plan, you goddamn run it," had been the exact words. Larry looked out at the faces now watching him, and thought I can't do this.

But he had to.

"Alright," he said out loud. "Focus your minds. Telekinetics follow me, telepaths follow Isolda." He didn't have to look to see that she was sweating too. Neither of them had ever expected to lead anybody.

As a group, the telekinetics closed their eyes and began to slip into the trance.

*************************************************************

Saleon Naval Base, command center

"Sounds like a damn good idea," Matthews answered de Goethe. He seemed a little short-tempered now that the psychics were being allowed to take a shot at stopping the missiles. Prejudice died hard. "Loren would be a great staging place for that. The Academy's only fifty miles away, if we massed troops in Loren we could hit the nerve center of their revolt easily. Close the whole damn thing down."

Barnes, meanwhile, was talking to one of the radio operators. "Contact the Air Force HQ, tell them we've figured out why the planes are crashing and we're trying to counter it."

*************************************************************

Air Force HQ

The radioman who took the message was very startled by the transmission from Saleon, in no small part because no one had transmitted that the planes had been destroyed. The first thing he said in response was: "How did you know that?"

"We've got some unexpected help," was the answer.

"What kind?"

"Doesn't matter," the voice on the other end said firmly. "Your pilots are going to be getting some surprise help."

"You aren't letting your prisoners out to play are you?" the radioman demanded.

"Son," Barnes said slowly on the other end, taking the microphone from his radio operator. "That's not your problem, is it?"

*************************************************************

The skies over Glorious Humanity
Twenty minutes to impact

Jacobs levelled off at nine thousand feet, just below the missiles. The ICBMs were starting to descend as they approached their target.

"Keep some distance boys and girls," he reminded his remaining team as he saw them coming up a short distance from him. "No more crashes. Begin acquiring targets. I've got the middle."

There were a chorus of acknowledgements as Jacobs missile lock began beeping, the acquisition device searching for something to aim at. A hundred yards ahead, he could see the ICBMs, and the lock-on saw them too. The small diamond shape on his HUD that indicated where his missiles were looking zeroed in on the middle nuke, and the tone changed from a beep to a steady sound announcing it was ready. He waited a moment longer, then flicked the cover off the fire button for his missiles.

"Ready? Gold One, Fox One!"

"Gold Three, Fox One!"

"Gold Six, Fox One!"

"Gold Nine, Fox One!"

Four missiles lanced out towards the nukes. Jacobs watched, unconciously holding his breath as he waited. The Defusers streaked forward at just under Mach One, seeking out the firey engines of the ICBMs. They all found them.

Four ICBMs exploded in flight, the warheads dropping back towards the earth undetonated. Over his comm, Jacobs heard Hawkins whoop with glee and the other pilots sent their own sounds of joy over the radio.

"Stay focused team," Jacobs said, although he was grinning behind his oxygen mask. "We've still got two more to drop."

*************************************************************

The Academy

The planes are still there. Holmes informed Sader in his mind. Four of them. She sounded both amused and annoyed at this. They just knocked out four nukes. Only two left in the air.

For his part, Sader was unconcerned. He opened his eyes briefly and winked at her. "I've got them love." Then he returned to his trance.

*************************************************************

The skies

"Gold Three and myself are taking shots at the last two. Six and Nine, be ready if we miss," Jacobs ordered, easing his stick down a little to match altitude with the descending missiles.

"Here we go," he said quietly to himself. The missile lock-on was already hunting for the engine of one of the rockets and was almost lined up. Just about one more second...

His flight stick suddenly slammed forward and held there. The world spun crazily downwards as his craft nosedived towards the ground. He yanked hard, trying to bring his plane back to level flight, but the stick was stuck. His altitude meter was dropping rapidly, and had already passed seven thousand feet.

"Captain, what's going on?" Hawkins' voice.

"I don't know!" He responded. "Just lost control!"

*************************************************************

Saleon Naval Base, barracks

They're throwing the planes! Isolda's voice in Larry's mind sounded fearful. One's going to crash!

Larry briefly opened his eyes, trying not to let his own fear show in them, and looked at her. "I've got them love." He closed his eyes and dropped back into his trance.

*************************************************************

The skies

Jacobs' could see his life flash before his eyes. His plane's stall warning had just gone off, the altitude meter said under one thousand feet, and there was no way he could pull up. Even if he got the stick back now the plane was descending too fast, and at too sharp an angle. He couldn't eject, he couldn't do anything except pray it would be quick. He closed his eyes and waited.

A sudden violent jerk startled him. Opening his eyes again, he saw blue sky. Then he heard the squeals of protest, audible even in the cockpit, as the plane was violently pulled into level flight, nearly tearing the wings off in the process. The stick was back under his control, and he'd leveled off at five hundred feet. Looking out, he could see the shadow of his aircraft racing along the ground. Immediately he leaned back on the stick, fighting to regain his altitude.

*************************************************************

The Academy

Sader flinched visibly, his motion echoed by the other telekinetics in the room as they were taken completely by surprise. Before he could even ask though, Holmes had the answer to his question in his mind.

The others, the psychics in Saleon. They're fighting us! She sounded shocked.

Sader composed himself and spoke without opening his eyes. "Stop them." A moment later, the telepathic minds, led by Holmes, launched out like an invisible spear.

*************************************************************

Saleon Naval Base, barracks

All the soldiers' heads snapped around as one of the psychics, a young telekinetic woman, screamed and fell forward out of her chair, clawing at her face and eyes as a wave of telepathic hits assaulted her mind.

Larry's eyes snapped open, and the Saleon telekinetics control began to fragment.

The rebels are reacting! Isolda shouted in his mind.

Larry stared at the young woman a moment longer, who was now banging her head on the floor as if she'd gone completely mad. He gritted his teeth and tried to refocus. "Stop them," he told Isolda.

Led by Isolda, the telepaths moved to protect their comrades.

*************************************************************

The Academy

Holmes' force had effortlessly destroyed the mind of one of the telekinetics, and she felt almost gleeful as she moved on to another. It was so easy, they were so unprepared to be dominated. It was almost an orgasmic feeling, this power.

And then she stopped, as her group encountered a wall around the next mind. So they were defending now, no matter... but as she moved on to the next mind, and the next, all she encountered were walls barring her out. She prodded at one and it gave nothing. She threw all of her strength at it, with the same result. What on Earth...? No one except those strange visitors had ever been able to resist her. She cast about for the source of the blockade, for the mind that was leading the defense, leaving her underlings to hammer on the shields.

*************************************************************

The skies

Jacobs' plane veered up and down until he was feeling sick, then started climbing again. His radio crackled. "Captain, you still there?"

"I'm here," he answered Hawkins.

"I've got the other missile boresighted," she told him. "And Gold Six is moving in to shoot at your bogey."

"Do it," he ordered.

"Roger. Gold Three, Fox Two!"

"Gold Six, Fox Two!"

Looking up, Jacobs could see the contrails of the ICBMS, and could see the dark shapes of his wingmen. Two smaller contrails burst into life and streaked off to merge with the ICBM smoke.

*************************************************************

The Academy

Sader gave up on trying to crash the planes. He opened his eyes and looked at a clock on the wall, then grinned viciously. It wasn't necessary to stop them altogether anymore, only slow them now.

Closing his eyes, he focused on the nukes. Oh no you don't...

*************************************************************

The skies

The missiles were right on target, the cheer was in Hawkins' throat, when the nukes suddenly dove down. Unable to correct fast enough, the Defusers shot over them and continued on with a slight down curve, but not enough to reaquire their targets.

"The missiles evaded," she said slowly over her radio. "Captain, since when do missiles evade?"

"I don't know," Jacobs answered, then flicked to Base. "Base, what's going on?"

"We just got a report from Saleon," the radioman answered. "The rebel psychics are trying to stop you from destroying those missiles."

"Goddamn..." Jacobs muttered. "Then why am I still here?"

"We got help from an unexpected source," the radioman answered. "The psychics that just came back from Fyreheart are fighting the rebels."

"Goddamn," Jacobs repeated. "Well, those missiles are still dodging." But even as he said that, he saw them coming. They were coming down fast. Looking ahead, he didn't like what he saw, light glinting off glass and steel in Dulles. The missiles couldn't be more than a few minutes from their targets.

Then he looked back up, and grinned. Easing the stick forward, he leveled off and waited. Sure enough, the fleeing nukes dropped right into his range and he boresighted the left one.

"Gold One, Fox Two!"

No dodging this time. The ICBM blew into fragments.

*************************************************************

The Academy

Sader was down to one of his missiles left. He was not happy at all. But now he knew where this one was going for certain, and he began guiding it there with his mind.

*************************************************************

The skies over Dulles
Five minutes to impact

The final ICBM suddenly turned again, heading into the city. Jacobs banked his plane and dove after it, trying to acquire another lock.

His radio crackled. "Gold team, one bird left."

"I know," he answered. "I'm chasing it."

"Watch out, we think we know where it's headed. We think it's going for the government complex," the radioman cautioned.

"Makes sense to me, now I gotta work on my flying," Jacobs answered. The ICBM was in a shopping district, weaving through skyscrapers as it headed towards its destination. Jacobs plane veered and rolled as he struggled to keep the bogey in sight, but a lock was out of the question now. The big buildings they were flying through would likely catch any missile he fired. Grimly he increased his speed, struggling to get close enough to use his nose-mounted cannon. Towers whipped by at incredible speed, and then suddenly they were in the clear again, flying over the shorter buildings of the government sector of the city. The missile was wide open, and he acquired lock almost instantly.

"Gotcha," he grinned. "Gold One, Fox Three!"

The missiles left his wing and shot straight forward, just as the radio barked. "Captain, we're picking up a huge number of incoming missiles. I think they're the Drakonian interceptors."

Jacobs barely heard him, focused as he was on his own missile. The Defuser closed the distance rapidly, and it had it. There was no way the ICBM could dodge...

The nuke banked sharply down again, and the missile overshot it. Jacobs stared, then his shoulders slumped. There was nothing more he could do. He almost felt good about the fact that he'd be at the epicenter of the blast, so he'd die and wouldn't have to see the capital gone.

*************************************************************

The Academy

Sader was beside himself with glee. You tried. But I won. He guided the nuke downwards towards the center of the complex.

*************************************************************

The skies
One minute to impact

Jacobs radio suddenly chattered. "Captain, pull up!" the radioman yelled. "Get out of the way!"

"What?" he demanded, snapped out of his depression.

"Get out of the way, the Drakonian missiles are going for that nuke!"

Jacobs looked to his right and saw them for the first time. The Drakonian interceptors. He tried to count them as he pulled up, clearing the airspace as wild hope filled him.

Dodge those, you metal piece of shit.

The ICBM started juking like a ballcarrier evading tackles as soon as the Drakonian missiles began seeking it out. It dodged left, right, up, down... and then the man controlling it miscalculated, and steered it right into one of the interceptors.

The final ICBM blew apart spectacularly. The undetonated warhead landed hard on the Council building's front lawn.

*************************************************************

Air Force HQ

There was a long, long silence as the radarman watching a screen that showed Dulles stared. The entire room was holding their breath.

Then he half-leaned, half straight jumped backwards in his chair, threw both arms into the air, and hollered "GOOOOOOOAAAAALLLLL!!!"

The control room lit up in cheers.

*************************************************************

Saleon Naval Base, barracks

Larry Soros opened his eyes and wiped his forehead, his whole body slowly unclenching. He stretched once and looked around. Isolda was also coming out of her trance, similiarly unwinding herself. The other psychics were getting themselves together, several standing up. The soldiers who were standing guard were looking around, wondering what had changed.

Larry grinned, suddenly feeling absolutely perfect. "They're gone." And then he launched himself out of his chair, whooping. "They're gone! The nukes are destroyed!"

Turning, he saw Isolda also standing, her smile like the sun coming up. They stared at each other for a moment, the Larry caught her in a huge bearhug, lifted her up, spun her around, and kissed her soundly, laughing with pure joy the whole time.

*************************************************************

Saleon Naval Base, command center

"Sirs!" The radioman's shout brought turned all the heads about the big map.

"What?" Barnes asked.

"They're destroyed!" the man exclaimed.

There was a long silence, tinged with dread. "What are destroyed?" Barnes asked slowly.

"The nukes!" The radioman pointed at his headset, then tore it off. "I just got confirmation, all six birds gone! They got 'em all. Not a single one hit!"

Another long silence, then all the Glorious Humans in the room exploded into celebration.

*************************************************************

The skies

Gold Team Captain Terrance Jacobs took several long breaths to slow his heart, then looked again to make sure he wasn't fooling himself. He wasn't. It was over.

"Base, base confirm all birds dead," he spoke slowly into his comm.

"Confirmed, Gold Captain," the radioman answered. Jacobs could hear cheering in the background. "You job's done. Come on home."

Jacobs had never been one to cry, but he could feel a couple tears of joy sliding away from his eyes. "Gold team, where are you?"

"About half a mile away, Captain," Hawkins answered. He could hear her grin. "Are we done?"

"We're done," Jacobs told her. "All remaining Gold team, form up on me. Let's go home."

1631 Zulu
Drakonian Intelligence Agency Heaquarters
Drakonia, Drakonian Imperium
Near Augustus

A cheer went throughout the room. They had done it. With help of course, but they had saved much of Dullus and the gratification of victory, of saving so many lives was overwhelming. Even if they themselves had done nothing more than watch, they felt as a whole, as a nation, they had completed a task for good and it was gratifying.

This day when each man and woman went home, they would feal that their job meant something that at their work they accomplished tasks for the betterment of mankind. It would be a great fealing and they would enjoy it, and celebrate. Because, it was worth celebrating.

They had acted, they moved to stop evil, and they had triumphed in the eleventh hour, with their allies at their closest allies sides.

They, Drakonians, Glorious Humans were one that day. One people of the continent of Nusquam Esse.

Small Victories, the Director thought.

He made one last look at the monitor showing the locations of the remaining Long-Range Interceptors. They were moving out of the city where they would either be self-destructions or run out of fuel and crashland, all over empty terrain where noone would get hurt. It was General Kingston's Escape Plan and it was going to work. Few if any would be die or be injured by the remaining missiles, the Drakonians were making sure of that.

Satisfied, Arleigh Markenson made his to his office. Where he accepted the call from the Director of the Drakonian Diplomatic Corps. Surprisingly or not so surprisingly, she was not all that happy. "This is a diplomatic nightmare!"

Arleigh smiled in greeting, even as an eyebrow raised itself. "It is?"

The reply was prompt and to the point. "Yes."

The eyebrow rose further. "How so?"

The reply this time came in the form of a question. "Unilateral?" There was a moment of silence as she let the word be fully comprehended. "Nothing diplomatic comes from unilateralism and that is what the whole bloody operation was named: Unilateral. We shot missiles over their territory."

She was angry and she was not yelling at him. She was just stating her opinions, but still Arleigh saw the need to calm her. "We saved their capital. We saved Dulles."

There was a moment as Diana Minerva thought that over. "True," she acknowledged. "But they still won't like it."

"I wouldn't," Arleigh informed frankly.

"Nor would I, but we did save them." She still seemed to be thinking.

"So what do we do now," the Director of the Drakonian Intelligence Agency asked.

"We offer our assistance," came the ironic reply. "Or rather, further assistance."

Now it was Arleigh Markenson's turn to think. The Glorious Humans hadn't been much for international talk once the nukes came into play. He wondered if they would be ready to talk now. "You think they'll even answer you now," he asked.

"I think we've got their attention," was her reply. Definitely, a very true reply.

Both Directors smiled at the statement. Yes, it had been a good days work, very satisfactory.

1634 Zulu
Outside Saleon Naval Base
Glorious Humanity, Nusquam Esse
Privately Rural Property

The two Black Gold Team Member descended the small green grassy hill returning to the other Drakonian Intelligence Agents. They arrived next to the dark grey Pajero SUV and under the massive pale oak. The sun burned the sky a lovely blue above the oak's leaves and branches and above the group below them.

One of the two Black Gold Team Members spoke first, with a decidably slurred Arab accent. "Looks like the Psychics just helped save the day...and the capital."

Leo looked up at that. Suddenly, it didn't seem as important to be keeping an eye on the Psychics at Saleon. "How is security?"

"Air tight," the other man replied. His accent was strongly and clearly British. "And with the Lavenrunzians landing, it will only get tighter."

Leo reconsider the current mission.

Another of the Black Gold Team spoke up. "So what now, boss?" Her voice and accent was North American.

Leo took one final look at the hill that hid them from line of sight of the Naval Base and made up his mind. "We head for the Academy, in the direction of Loren, and get out of here before anyone sees us."

"Righto," the British accented man acknowledged, nodding to the North American.

"Load'em up," the North American woman ordered and then did.

The Australian Marsupials Motors vehicle roared off. It found the road a short distance away, and began the trip toward the eastern city of Loren. Where Fate's hand was taking them.

That`s it?

Maria looked disappointed, perhaps even a bit frustrated. Although the show, the planes, the missiles and all, had been exciting, the results were so...

Stereotypical.
Yes. Like in a bad action movie. Rescued in the last moment. Can`t believe it is like that in real life...
Well, I`m sure we will be able to change a few things... I wonder what the ones higher up have in mind...
Next thing on the agenda... The right winger we talked about earlier.
Don`t you think it is a bit risky to return?
Not at all. We weren`t the only ones trying to escape... In any case, we have to do this shiny news report.
Oh, yes... God, I hate this work.

---

Angst Broadcasting Corporation news

Glorious Humanity: Earlier today, a missile attack by the GH rebel forces was intercepted by the combined effords of the current GH military and Drakonian mercenaries.

However, the results shouldn´t be overestimated. The attack was of a symbolic kind, without actual military relevance. The rebels are far from being defeated.

Local reports indicate that there is a high probability for the major part of the conflict starting now. Nonetheless, Mr. Morden indicated that DA has "No valid reason to interfere.", a position large parts of the population disagree with.

I`m Miranda Vera Cruz de la Jolla Cardinal, and I say good bye, until tomorrow!"

From Saelon Naval Base

It sounded like the world's biggest factory; hundreds of engines revving up, the deep diesel growling of
Grendel III main battle tanks, the coughing and grumbling of KM-25 and Vogelhund APCs and their engineering and
armored recovery derivatives, the high pitched whine of helicopter rotors and plane engines from the bay where the
amphibious ships were docked.
General Dietrich stood outside his command vehicle, his brigade commanders, staff and the recon and other component officers
around him.
"We're going to do this with discipline and by the numbers." Dietrich said bluntly. "I want aviation and recon
out there to find the enemy before they find us. The rest of us will proceed up these roads..." he beckoned to his aide to demonstrate
with the map. "In a staggered parallel. Whichever brigade elements make contact first they punch ahead, they draw the enemy in, and the rest of
us encircle and tear them apart."
"Just like when we took The Hague, your Excellency." observed Colonel Letz, the First Brigade Commander.
"Precisely." Dietrich nodded. "The main thing," he said, punching a fist into his hand, "Is to keep driving. We're Imperial Marines,
we aren't going to second guess, hold onto positions, waver or waffle. Is that understood?"
There were firm nods. They were all determined to wash the stain on their reputation...all of them had smarted when they realized, though
they would never admit it to foreigners, that they had been duped by Count Mirbach. Even though in their hearts they approved of the ultimate
result, they were keen to prove their willingness to fight and die for the Throne.
"Very well. Good luck. God save the Empress." he said. "Take posts."
The commanders clicked their heels and formally bowed, which he returned.

Lieutenant-Colonel Artur the Markgraf von Hackelgruber was furious. He slapped a hand against the side of his Vogelhund Command Vehicle, which was
spewing a thick noxious cloud of smoke, and growled, "Have Tempelhof demoted from maintenance officer. Immediately!"
"Yes, my Colonel." said his Sergeant-Major. He could scarcely blame the colonel for wanting someone to blame; it was the height of ignimony for the
commander of the Reconaissance Battalion of the Imperial First Marine Division to have his vehicle break down in from of the whole advance unit, and have to be
hauled off the road by an armored recovery vehicle. Meanwhile, the battalion staff scattered at von Hackelgruber's shout of, "Well, don't fucking stand there, idiots,
get mounted up, I don't give a shit where. Let's just get moving!"
He wheeled on his senior NCO. "Sergeant Major."
"My Colonel!" the hard faced man snapped to attention.
"Get this damned unit moving to Loren!"
"Yes, my Colonel!"
The Recon Battalion consisted of Hum-Vees and ATVs that were moving swiftly ahead already, their vehicles mounting either .50 caliber machineguns or Loki Anti-Tank weapons;
some of them went bumping and rolling offroad as well, looking out for ambushes and traps. The rest of the column, made up mostly of Vogelhund eight wheeled apcs, moved along two parallel roads, alert and
eager.

Admiral de Goethe flew in to meet with Dietrich. He and his staff formally saluted. The Admiral swept a hand out. "General, Loren is in range for full support by the fleet.
Thus, should you require it, though we don't have overwhelming air superiority on our own, you will certainly have that offered by Glorious Humanity, and also, more significantly, that of
Jormungand and Mjolnir missiles. General, I have every confidence that you will carry out your duty to the best of your ability."
They both watched with a sense of pride as Colonel Letz's brigade rumbled past. A squadron of helicopters drowned out all voices on the ground as they thundered overhead like giant metal insects.

The Fourth Day

KQCB studios, Loren
6:00 AM

The camera light turned green. Sandra Thompson began speaking.

"Good morning Glorious Humanity, this is KQCB News. We have an update on the terrorist revolt unfolding in our country, and finally it is a happy one. Yesterday the rebel forces seized control of the Kilyton nuclear silos, just a short distance from this very city, and launched six nuclear weapons at Dulles itself. Our brave pilots of El Dorado Squadron, aided by unexpected assistance from the Drakonian Imperium, brought all six missiles down without a single one of them hitting it's target. Yesterday evening, General Herbert Ablegard had this to say:"

The screen cut to a press conference from the previous evening. Ablegard was at a podium before a crowd of reporters, the Glorious Humanity flag behind him.

"These cowards will be brought to justice!" Ablegard declared. "Even as I speak forces are en route to secure Loren, then strike at the rebel strongholds. This act of pure terrorism, launching the nukes, will not go unpunished. And we do not fight alone, for alongside us march brave allies from other lands. Lavenrunz has sent soldiers to aid our battle, and I assure you, when we are done everyone who fights will have something to cheer about. The allies will meet these traitorous bastards head on, and we will grind them into the dirt they sprang from!"

The camera cut back to Thompson in the studio, who smiled again. "Bold words from the General, and we sincerely hope he is right. However, yesterday was not all a success. During the evacuation from the city, a sniper wounded President Mark Albert. The President was immediately rushed to a military hospital, where he is said to be in stable condition. Shortly after the shooting the sniper was captured by security forces, and is currently in custody."

She turned to face another camera. "Now we move on to more standard news. Coming in the weather..."

*************************************************************

The Academy
7:00 AM

The weather was awful, naturally. Another storm had come in, and driving rain slashed at the Academy while gale force winds played catch with anything that wasn't heavy or nailed down. The storm suited Raphael Sader's mood perfectly as he stared at from one large window of his quarters, hands clasped behind his back.

Holmes was seated next to the chessboard, watching him quietly. For once, she had no smart remarks or smug observations for her lover. She absently toyed with the white king in her hand as she waited for him to say something.

Before Sader said anything though, there was a knock at the door. Just for a moment, he considered telling the caller to leave, but then he remembered he was still the leader of these psychics. "Enter!" he barked.

The door opened, and Holmes turned her head to watch five psychics enter. They were all members of Sader's inner circle, though their names escaped her at the moment. She didn't pay much attention to names, only minds.

"Sader," one of them said, stepping forward. "What have you done?"

Sader recognized the voice. "Only what I had to, Jonas," he answered, not turning away from the window. "This has been a minor setback, but I assure you-"

"A minor setback!" Jonas exploded. "Sader, you fired nukes at one of the largest cities in the country! You almost killed ten million innocent people!"

"I tried to do what was necessary," Sader replied. "They stopped me. Don't worry though, Kilyton still had four more missiles."

"You want to fire more?" Jonas gasped. "Sader, have you lost your mind? You said we were fighting our oppressors, but you tried to destroy a whole city!" Holmes noted the psychics around Jonas were nodding agreement, straightening and standing tall.

"For the greater good, sacrifices must be made," Sader answered evenly. "We are outnumbered and outgunned. True, the men and women of this Academy are worth a million regular soldiers, but the Army has ten million. Our own brothers and sisters at Saleon have turned against us. They can swarm us under, and they will eventually if we do not disrupt them somehow. I tried to disrupt them."

"You tried insanity!" Jonas snarled. There was a pause, then he added. "You will damn us all."

Sader still didn't turn away from the window, and Jonas last words hung in the air. Jonas stared at Sader's back defiantly. Then, his eyes suddenly widened, and he swallowed hard. A moment later, his hands went to his throat as he began to choke.

"Will I?" Sader asked. Finally, he turned away from the window and faced the group, with his eyes on Jonas. "So I am the Devil now? Yesterday a messiah, today an evil. My, how quickly you lose your faith."

Jonas couldn't answer, because his throat was constricting in on itself. The other members of his group all looked at Sader, and he felt invisible hands start to close around his own throat as well. He couldn't help grinning, then with a single thought sent everyone except Jonas tumbling backwards across the floor.

"I promised you all victory," Sader continued, stepping forward towards Jonas. Holmes was sitting erect now, staring with malicious glee at the choking psychic. "I promised that I would bring us freedom. Victory or death, that was my oath, was it not? You all swore the same oath. Why do you forsake victory now?"

Jonas couldn't answer. His face was turning blue.

"You have lost your faith," Sader smiled. "You have discarded victory, so there is only one option now." Jonas tried to cry out, just before his head was twisted a hundred and eighty degrees around.

"Was there something else?" Sader asked the others, who were now cowering. They all hastily shook their heads no. "Then you are dismissed." They all scurried for the door, but were stopped again by Sader's voice.

"What are you doing?" he asked. When they turned back to look at him, he gestured to Jonas. "I don't need that on my floor. Take it with you."

Volcano Island

The wide, open area was surrounded by high rises, the only way to actually see the gray sky with its countless clouds was to look straight up... Although the colour of the buildings wasn`t exactly different from the gray clouds.

On the area, a few dozen people were working, working with strange things... occasionally resembling animals.

Others seemed to prepare vehicles, some of them obviously VTOLs, others more conventional.

Finally, there were a few men training with weapons. Still, they were a minority.

Two persons near one of the building watched over the scene. They weren´t talking, it made no sense since they had to communicate with the men preparing the operation, anyway.

It was one of the situations were telepathy was obviously... useful.

One of them was a relatively short woman with black hair, watching the men in front of her intensely, searching for their mistakes, sorting them out... Her eyes were cold, her black pupils moving back and forth, frightening everyone searching her eyes, for every bit of live seemed to miss, as if her soul had been sucked out by something great and terrible...

The other one was a man, also short, and very thin. He had a very military attitude, and was clad in a black uniform. Not a single hair could be found on his dark, brown head.

And? She asked. A couple crates were moved, something inside of them moved as well, a few of them fell down, but were quickly grabbed by the men around them. There was steam emerging from them, cold steam. As if something had to be cooled. On one of the crates, the sign for radioactivity could be seen, threatening as always.

Looks good. We are ready. At least for partisan actions.
I hope so. You`re sure this isn`t a plot by Griffith to take out some nasty competition?
Yes. I`m pretty sure his end will come soon.

A transporter landed, more crates and a couple other things (light crawlers and small boxes filled with... something were moved into it.

Very good. Now, Any news from the rebels?
No. They seem to wait. I hope they will guarantee us a free air corridor and perhaps a bit of secured coastline. We do have a couple subs out there...

Shots could be heard, 10mm gauss guns firing. The results were quite impressive.

Well... it seems to be ready. Good luck, I would say.
They will become what they need to be. Strong, without normals preventing them from achiving perfection.
That they will. She smiled, then left. The man followed her shortly after, leaving the men preparing for the operation alone.

They will be fast. And they will be victorious.

With that, Bertha von Suttner and Mahatma Gandhi were back inside, studying maps of Glorious Humanity.

Hofburg, Lavenrunz

Empress Aurora sat by a fountain in the gardens at the Autumn Palace, trailing her fingers in the water that rippled as droplets dappled the surface from a fountain that appeared to be a flower made of water, that had golden bees on nearly invisible strings that only were raised by the water itself, so that they actually appeared to be hovering there, their wings, made from a very hard crystal, transluscent and bright as they appeared to fan.
Nearby, Thirty Camelias lay like an Egyptian statue. Now and then a rippling of her gold and black fur or a lash of her furry tail gave away that there was life in the statue...of a sort.
Not far off, a group of attendants waited respectfully, but the Empress was quiet, lost in thought. She wore a light spring gown made of flowers elegantly woven together...not a coming of age dress, but a spring celebration dress, that hid her delicacy but subtly showed her increasingly womanly figure and her warm pink and white flesh. Her golden hair mingled with the variously colored lilies that made up the gown. Her slender feet were bare, their toes wriggling now and then against the flat rectangular stones.
Baron Ehrfurt arrived, and bowed, saying, "Majesty, the Chancellor."
She looked up at him. For a moment, Mirbach, seeing her in ritual garb, was awestruck. He was for a moment so keenly aware that he was merely a man while she was the land embodied, the annointed of God, that he found himself deeply bowing.
The spell passed, but it shook him.
"Chancellor?" the youthful voice inquired.
"Your Majesty, I report with the greatest pleasure that Your forces are in Glorious Humanity and are even now rendering assistance to the government of President Albert." he said, his voice resonant with his own pleasure.
Her features lit up like a meadow which the shadow of a cloud has finally left. Blue eyes were bright, and her smile dazzled all there. She exclaimed delightedly, "This is wonderful news. Let prayers be said for the expedition, and the restoration. Convey this to the Archbishop."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Count Mirbach bowed and backed away. He felt a certain disquiet. What the hell had just happened?

On the road to Loren

Colonel von Hackelgruber had paused near a rise that had something to do with something scenic and historic, according to the tourist booth not far away...it was nice farm country, but a veil of rain obscured it, and apparently according to the Fleet it was going to get a hell of a lot worse.
"So much for air cover." he grumbled as he and his staff surveyed the valley that the highways traversed. It looked smooth going enough but you never knew...still, once he saw that his battalion had a good head start on him he nodded to the Sergeant-Major and they all ran back for the newly appointed command vehicle and held on for dear life as the driver was encouraged to drive like a maniac, with Hackelgruber in the hatch standing proud like some kind of knight, shouting directions and beating on the hatch above the driver's head with his map case when he wasn't listened to properly.

Colonel Letz was a short, very tough woman who had led more marine landings than most of her marines had had hot dinners, and she was happily watching them cross a bridge as she waited for the next satellite report when she saw the General's humvee drive up along the road and pull up next to her command vehicle. He got out and brusquely returned her salute.
"How's First Brigade doing, Colonel?" he demanded.
They were both wearing ponchos; the rain was starting to come down a bit harder, and some impressive thunder kept spooking the veterans a bit.
"Fine, General." she replied. Once in the field they weren't big on formality in the Marines; Empress Joanna had insisted on that, to their immense relief. "We are moving at a good clip, but then these are the best roads we've ever worked with."
He smiled, which was rare for Dietrich, and said, "Did you hear the news? General Abelgard called us soldiers in his public statement."
Colonel Letz and her staff laughed. "Well, I guess we'll have to show him the difference, General."
Dietrich nodded, and said, "Well, keep moving, Letz, we have a showdown ahead of us."

Saelon Naval Base

Admiral de Goethe was worried about the storm.
In fact, she'd had a report from the Wing Command that the fighter-bombers from the fleet had been pulled in, and that helicopter flights wree being restricted.
But now, hearing the latest weather reports, she was concerned about the ships, and could not resist asking Admiral Barnes if maybe they should head out to sea, and fast.

Council Building
8:00 AM

The Council's mood was rather subdued as they convened for their morning session. Thought everyone was glad that the building they'd met in for years was still standing, they were also wondering who would be sitting in Albert's seat at the head of the table.

The President, although he could walk and do his job easily enough, was being kept at the hospital under heavy guard just in case there were more assassins looking to shoot at him. Right now, it was deemed most prudent to keep him out of sight.

Unlike many countries who openly declared who the next in line for the top spots were, the identity of the Vice President of Glorious Humanity was one of the most closely guarded secrets in the nation. The President ran for office alone, and picked his successor only after the election was over. The successor was not publicly announced. The thinking was that that way, the Presidency could not be completely knocked out because no assassin or group of assassins could get everyone in one clean sweep. They simply wouldn't know who to take out. Only three branches of the government besides the President himself knew who the veep was: Internal Security, Military Intelligence, and the Ministry of Efficiency.

Minister Brooks had checked the list before coming in this morning, so he knew who it was. Now something else was bothering him. Again, it seemed like something should be blindingly obvious to him, but he was missing what was in front of his face.

Frank Pierce was ten minutes late to the meeting. Everyone looked up as he walked in. He looked around slowly, nodded to everyone in the room, the went straight to the President's chair and sat down.

There was a long silence, finally broken by Ablegard. "Well, I guess that answers one question of the day."

Minister -now President until Albert was able to resume his duties- Pierce nodded quietly. "Yes. Sorry I'm late, I was collecting a couple reports. Well, to work then. We've stopped the nukes, but the rebels are still out there. What are we doing about it?"

Ablegard answered first. "For starters, I've grabbed everything we can move without undercutting our defenses and sent it to Loren. They've been traveling all night, so the first elements should be arriving as we speak. The storm's making things difficult though, and the air support's going to have trouble when we're ready to attack."

Washington nodded agreement. "I'm not even trying to move fixed-wing planes right now. Everything's going overland, and the only aircraft out and about are helicopters. I understand the Lavenrunzians are doing the same thing."

"They are," Hanoway picked up. "Admiral Barnes sent a message to me earlier. The Lavenrunzians are asking to move their docked ships out to sea. I gave clearance, and told him to put our ships out as well, as many as can move. The only things staying docked are vessels in for maitenance that can't move, and we're shuffling them into covered drydocks. All the big ships are going to sea."

"Alright, so what you're all saying is that until the storm breaks we're going to be mostly relying on the Army," Pierce said.

"You got it, Frank," Ablegard nodded.

While they discussed strategy, Brooks was lost in thought. The nagging suspicion that he was missing something obvious was still with him, and it wouldn't go away. He looked around the room, idly noting who was here. All the military Commanders, Director Fox of Military Intelligence, and himself. The International Relations seat was empty because Pierce had moved up to take on Albert's duties-

Brooks stopped. The International Relations seat is empty.

Suddenly, it all fell into place in his mind with a powerful thunk. First he berated himself, how could he have missed it? How could he have been so stupid?

"My God..." he breathed. Pierce heard him and his attention immediately shifted. "What is it, Paul?"

"I just figured it out," Brooks answered. Around the table, all heads swiveled to face him. "I figured out what they were doing."

"What who were doing?" Pierce asked.

"The kidnappers. I know who they were after," Brooks said. "Eight targets, and only one, two at the most, were important. The others were distraction."

"Alright," Pierce said slowly. "Who was the real target?"

"You," Brooks answered, looking at him. "They were after you."

"Me? Why?" Pierce demanded, eyes narrowing.

"You're Albert's successor," Brooks said. "If they got you, the next replacement would have to be called in."

"Who is it?" Ablegard snapped.

"With all due respect, General, I won't say," Brooks answered. "It doesn't matter anyway, because Pierce is the only one who knows everything Albert does. All the successors after him would have to get their security clearance upgraded and be briefed on everything that's going on before they could start to lead."

"Okay, so you're saying somebody knew who would replace Albert, and was trying to clear the board," Ablegard said. His eyes flicked back and forth between Brooks and Fox. He knew who had access to that kind of information, even if he didn't know the information himself.

"Yes," Brooks answered.

"Then why take Thomas?" Pierce asked. "If they were after me, why go for my son?"

"They blew it," Brooks told him. "They must've thought it was you in that car. It was a government vehicle with two President's Guards in it, and family members of officials don't usually rate President's Guard, only the officials themselves."

"Oh God," Pierce groaned, running a hand over his face. "And I thought pulling strings to get those men would make him safer." What Brooks was saying made a lot of sense. Pierce mentally kicked himself. At the time, he'd thought that it was very good that he'd secured such excellent bodyguards for his son. Normally as Brooks said, President's Guard only covered the President and high-ranking officials. Pierce had played on his long friendship with Albert to get two reassigned to watch Thomas.

"Looks like being connected doesn't always get good things," Ablegard observed.

"Alright, that explains that part, assuming you're right," Pierce said. "Then again, if they knew who I am, what makes you so sure they weren't after Thomas? Maybe they think they can lean on me using him as a lever." He wasn't entirely sure they were wrong.

"The other two incidents," Brooks replied. "The shot at Albert, and the bomb."

Fox had just put it together as well. "You think they were trying to cut the whole chain?"

"Precisely," Brooks nodded.

Pierce suddenly understood. "If they got Mark, and me, and Lacey..."

"Both the Presidency and International Relations would shut down for as long as forty-eight hours while the next-in-lines for both positions were found and brought up to speed," Brooks took it home. "During that time, we'd be leaderless and dead to the world."

"Speaking of which," Ablegard spoke up. "Who is the next in line for International Relations after Deputy Minister Millhouse?"

"It doesn't matter," Pierce said firmly. "I'm still here, and I can pull double duty until Mark or Lacey recovers and can take one of these offices off my back. Let's not move anyone else up and give the terrorists another target."

"Agreed," Brooks said. There were nods around the table.

"Alright then, so how do we go about making sure nobody wipes you out?" Ablegard asked. "We should increase security, at this point trying to hide your identity is moot. The terrorists obviously already know who you are. So let's make you untouchable." They next five minutes were spent discussing improved security for Pierce, then the meeting adjourned.

*************************************************************

Ministry of Internal Security
8:30 AM

Brooks returned and immediately went to work, calling guards and placing them around the government complex. The new security plan called for the whole area to be saturated with police, soldiers, bodyguards, and such, so that no one could take five steps without being seen by a live person. They weren't relying on the cameras anymore.

That loose end still bothered him. Everything else they'd figured out (at least he hoped they had) but they were still no closer to finding the mole who'd deactivated the cameras in the first place. And, he thought upon reflection, they still didn't know where the hostages were. The last pieces of the puzzle still out there, waiting.

Mentally, he ran over the list of people in his Ministry who could had the access and know-how to get the cameras. There were plenty in Jerome Butler's communications division, so Brooks decided to start there after he was done with the security placements.

Making all the calls to division heads took another five minutes, then Brooks hit the button on his intercom for Butler's office. "I need to talk to you."

"What perfect timing," Butler answered after a moment. "I need to speak to you as well. And show you something. Can you come to my office?"

Something about his tone put Brooks on alert. "Why?"

"Well, what I've found could crack open the entire case," Butler answered. "I want to talk to you in person."

"So come here," Brooks told him.

"No, please come here," Butler answered. Brooks had finally identified what was wrong with his tone. He sounded... sad.

"Fine," Brooks said after a moment. "I'm coming." He clicked off, but before he left he reached into the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out the holster with his sidearm in it. He almost never wore his weapon anymore, but he kept it loaded and maintained, just in case. The holster was clipped to his belt, and he flicked the gun's safety off. Then he summoned four guards to accompany him.

*************************************************************

"Paul, good of you to come," Butler greeted him when Brooks and his guards entered Butler's office. The office was covered in computer related things, monitors, manuals, readouts. Butler, like a lot of computer techs, did not keep a neat abode.

Butler himself was seated behind his desk, hands in his lap. There was a bottle of whisky in front of him, and a glass. He looked horrible, eyes bleary, youthful face haggard and drawn. And there was something in his green eyes...

"Why the guards?" he inquired.

"Safety," Brooks answered shortly.

"You don't have to be afraid of me," Butler answered. "And I want to talk to you alone."

Brooks considered him for a long moment. His eyes flicked to the bottle. It was nearly empty. Must've been full when he started it.

Brooks could see that Butler couldn't move fast enough in his current state to take him by surprise. "Wait outside in the hall," he told his men.

"That's better," Butler said when the guards were gone. "Sit down." He gestured to a chair in front of his desk.

"No, I'll stand," Brooks answered flatly.

"Suit yourself." Butler fell silent for a moment. "I've done a bad thing, Paul."

"Oh?" Brooks was thinking about how much this man had access to. He was in charge of Internal Security's electronic defense division, which ran the city's security cameras, and on top of that he was a genius with computers. An ambitious man who had risen fast for his age.

"Yes, yes I have," Butler nodded. Degrees in electronics and computing, recruited right out of college by Internal Security. Moved up by Brooks himself after he developed the very computer program that now ran the city cameras. "I have helped some people vanish."

"Really?" My God, of all the people in my Ministry... he'd be the one who knows how to do everything. Brooks couldn't believe this, and yet it was all too believable.

"Yes," Butler reached out with one hand, grabbed the whisky bottle, and emptied the remainder of its contents into his glass. "I saved enough for one last drink," he smiled a little. Definitely plastered, Brooks noted to himself, hearing the slurred speech.

"Who did you help disappear?"

"The people you're looking for," Butler answered. "The reporter. The Minister's kid. The racist. All of them. A month ago I was approached by a man who wanted to know how the camera systems worked. I told him that was classified, and he asked me why. I didn't have an answer, I thought it should've been obvious why."

"So the man didn't learn anything?" Brooks asked.

"No, no he didn't," Butler replied. "He kept coming to me though, calling me, asking me questions. Finally two weeks ago, he offered me something to get my help."

"Greed? You turned on us for money?" Brooks demanded incredulously.

"No," Butler shook his head. "Power. What he told me was that the order of the country was soon to be changed, and if I played my cards right I could have an even higher place than I already did."

"You never gave any indication that you were disgruntled..." Brooks stared at him.

"I was not unhappy," Butler smiled again. "Only ambitious. And foolish. It took another week of persuasion before I finally agreed to help. After that, it was simple. I wrote the program for those cameras, it was simple to include a backdoor. There's a small bit of code in the program that allows someone with the right hidden password to turn off multiple systems simultaneously. That's what I did the day of the kidnappings. Then I erased the log of the action. Click, click, boom. All done."

"And that's how it happened," Brooks said, his shock being replaced by anger. "You helped. One of my most trusted men helped kidnap those people."

"Yes," Butler nodded. "But after that, I got to thinking. It isn't really very nice to help kidnappers, is it? Then the revolt started, and I played dumb, keeping you away from the truth. Then they fired the nukes."

"So?" Brooks glared at him. "Why would you care if another ten million innocents died?"

"Oh, I care," Butler answered. "I have a few morals, you know. The rebels are crazy Paul, they're off their rockers. I should never have helped them."

"Well, a lot of good that does us now," Brooks commented.

"I can help you now though. You still don't know where the hostages are," Butler said.

"No..." Brooks frowned. "You know? Where are they?"

"Degrass," Butler murmured. "They're in Degrass, prisoners of the rebel army. I helped arrange for the helicopter that flew them out."

"How do I know you're not lying?" Brooks demanded, the anger starting to return.

Butler dug around in a stack of papers, pulled one out. "Here, a flight plan for an Internal Security helicopter flying from Orson de Soto Airport here to Loren International in Loren. They took a detour and never arrived where they should have. You can check with Loren if you need more proof, and if you look at Internal Security's inventory you'll see that chopper is listed missing. No one thought to inform you."

Goddamn... Brooks thought.

"There's more." Another piece of paper was slid across the desk. "Confirmation transmission from Degrass to me, along with orders that I do everything I could to stall the investigation. Do you need more?"

"You could still be lying," Brooks told him pointedly. "All this could be made up, and the missing chopper could've gone somewhere else entirely."

"Look at me, Paul," Butler said, staring at him through bleary eyes. "Do I look like I'm in any condition to lie to you now?" He shook his head. "Believe it or not, as you choose. I've done what I could. Now for the end."

"You're bartering for a lesser sentence," Brooks caught on. "You're hoping that by giving us this you'll get some leniency."

"Paul, I know the law as well as you do. I've committed treason of the highest order. Life imprisonment is the best I can hope for," Butler answered. "More likely, I'll just be executed." His other hand, the one that had stayed under the table, came up now, and there was a gun in it. "I don't want to rot in prison or have a firing squad be the last thing I see."

Brooks reacted instinctively. His own weapon was snatched out of it's holster and pointed at Butler in the time it takes to blink. But the traitor didn't point his weapon at the Minister, instead he turned it towards himself.

"Jerome, what are you doing?" Brooks asked, though it was all too obvious.

"Saving you some paperwork." BAM!

*************************************************************

"Get a team in here to collect the body," Brooks ordered his guards. "I'll send some people to go through his papers and see what else there is to find." The Minister walked back to his office alone, and called Minister Pierce. He relayed what he had learned, then told Pierce that he would send the evidence over later for the acting President to review.

When he was done, he sat in his office, staring blankly at the wall. It took another couple minutes for the tears to start.

*************************************************************

Transmission to Lavenrunz:

Dear Empress Aurora,

I promised I would send word when there was something to say about Thomas. Well, there is now. One of the Internal Security officers betrayed his country to assist the kidnappers. We've caught the man, unfortunately he is dead now. We know where the hostages are though. They're in the rebel base at Degrass. As I speak, a rescue team is being prepared to get them out, then as soon as weather permits, we're going to burn that place to the ground. I'll make sure your troops get a piece of that action.

Regards,
Acting President Pierce

[ooc: Discussed and cleared with GH]

A few hours later

The four MK IV Jurai slided through the air, silent. They had been released from their mother planes a couple of minutes ago, now there was nothing... Just silence.

They weren´t much, only a whole lot of wood and a few other things put together, extremely light, extremely silent... Not reusable. But perfect for this kind of operation.

Behind them, the storm was coming, they had been lucky actually making it, unlike the other groups who would come later.

"Well... It has one advantage: With the storm following us, there wont be any aerial resistance."
"True."

The two technicians talking, Karl Schmidt and Max Weber, were the only passengers, then there was the pilot who seemed to be in a less than talkative mood, probably due to the storm threatening to crash them. Around them, crates, a few drones, and a couple minor things formed a rather... unique interior.

In front of them, a magnetic chessboard provided them with something to do while the pilot fought with the storm.

"Good move..." Max moved another piece, threatening Karl`s bishop. "Wonder what will await us?"
"Fire." The bishop moved, risking the king`s flank. But it was a calculated risk, if it would just work...
"Heh. True. Wonder how the subs are doing..." Again, he moved, taking a pawn.

Soon, they would arrive.

---

Glorious Humanity, Eastern Coast

The Squid was moving slowly. Being a dozen meters beneath the surface of the sea, with a storm approaching, it was save enough.

Its pilot didn´t didn`t rise his usual telepathic field, though. Amplified by the vast structure of the submarine, it would be diffused by the weather, electrical discharges...

No, it really wasn´t a good idea.

Inside the sub, there were men. Of course, they weren`t a 'crew'. They were passengers. Bored passengers, to be correct... They had been here for almost 24 hours, waiting... But finally, the message had arrived...

And they could hardly wait.

The weather proved to be an advantage, the distinct lack of surface vessels making the game, the hiding much easier.

And eventually, the submarine broke through the layers of water, layers already becoming chaotic, the storm rising the waves...

Slowly, they prepared the boats, started the engines... One boat was lost, the timing regarding the storm obviously a bit... problematic.

But it didn´t matter. Within time, they begun their move, being close enough to the coast to succeed...

They landed the very moment the storm finally arrived, the whole prcess being very unpleasent... Especially considering their condition, which was... wet.

Swearing, the unloaded the equipment they hadn`t lost to the sea (They had been lucky, all possible sources for unwanted radiation leaking were still in the boats), and the sixty men prepared... To wait, since moving while the storm lasted was a considerable bad idea.

The same happened at two other positions on the eastern coast. Although... there was one more sub. Unfortunately, this one didn`t have the time to unload its 'cargo'.

The Barracuda was moving slowly... It didn´t want to wake the hunter... Only a couple minutes ago, they had received the signal. A GH submarine.

Of course, it was a fairly unpleasant surprise. A surprise that needed to be taken care of. Unfortunately, their major advantages had been taken by the storm... They were lucky that this was presumably the case with the GH submarine, too... Although most likely for different reasons.

It tried to feel it, to feel it through the waves. It had informed the 'mercenaries' inside its belly a while ago, and they were silent, their communication, if there was any, completely telepathic.

It could feel them, though. They were nervous. Well, so was she. For a moment, she cursed the fact that she wasn`t the heart of one of the new submarines, the ones were the pilot could be connected without being hardwired... It would raise her chances for survival greatly...

There.

She could feel it, her more 'conventional' sensors telli g her enough...

But it was more than likely that 'they' knew as well. It was a bit frustrating, being the product of a generation of biotechnological development, and still, this steel hulls without the slightest echo of life in them could notice her...

my children, now is your time...

She stroked each one of them, Her little 'children'. They weren´t sapient, like she was, but sentient. At this was enough.

A part of her wept, not wanting to sacrifice her children to this monstrosity of steel...

But she knew it had to be done, and she could feel her children, being eager, wanting to fulfill their mission, wanting to destroy, to utterly devastate their enemy...

And so, she let them go.

Four dark, sleek silhouettes were moving through the sea, with increasing velocity, searching for their target...

Each one of them could feel the other three, could combine its effords with them, slowly hunt it down...

The prey...

They could hardly wait.

---

The Academy

Asad approached Sader as soon as he had a chance. he smiled politely, knowing about the most recent... defeat. The glory of worldwide communication networks... "There are two more things we need to discuss... First of all, where would our... 'reinforcements', as small as they will be, be needed most, and second, you will need to create some faked financial transactions to Admiral Gandhi`s Defence systems Ltd."

Sader was in his room again, and in a rather bad mood. He was staring out the window with his hands clasped behind his back. Holmes was nowhere to be seen this time. "That's easy enough. Send them to the city of Loren, fifty miles west. We're setting up a little surprise for the government forces staging there. Why do I need to make these fake transfers?"

Asad chuckled. "The Lavenrunz involvement. There is no official backing from the DA Government. Thanks to our rather... chaotic political structure, we can still act, by way of using... pawns, but, well... Mercenaries do not usually work without being paid." He hesitated. "Of course, you wont really pay anyone, it just has to look like it... The rest will be taken care of by my associates." Again, he hesitated. Urban combat? Bad idea... "As for Loren... Well, yes, I think I can organise that... They will be there this evening, if we`re out of luck, sometime in the night. Four of eight groups. The other four will go and... stir up some trouble behind enemy lines. We don´t want too many bombers to rise from the airfields..."

"For those targets, you'd have to talk to Colonel Stanzer at Degrass," Sader replied. "He's the one working on a plan to close down air power." Sader turned to face Asad, fixing him with an intense stare. "Whatever your people do, don't screw up. Morale is not good among the psychics, I don't need any messes making my job harder."

Asad smiled, sweetly, like a young girl with a crown of flowers, playing on green meadows. As a matter of fact, he was hiding a bit of... contempt. "That will do. And as for morale... I`m sure it will be better, soon... Oh, a last thing, though: My associates would prefer it if our help is used against loyalist forces, rather than against lavenrunzians... We don´t want to screw up the diplomatic field. Well, not too much." Although it could be quite amusing...

Sader chuckles slightly as he looked at Asad, considering the man's request to not have his mercs engage the Laverunzians. "I'll do my best." Sader wasn't giving anything other than mild amusement away on his face, but the contempt went both ways now. Yes, I'll see. I'll see if your mercs who can only fight certain people are worth it.

Asad bowed. "It was a pleasure." With that, he left the room, preparing the necessary communications... To the four men in Dulles, to the Triluminarium, to the groups of 'mercenaries' that should have arrived by now. Yes. This will certainly be fun.

---

Dulles

The group had returned. As far as they could tell, no one suspected too much... And Maria was already preparing for a long, hot shower, when the call came: "Hey, two messages. One from group two, one from... the March of man guy."

She chuckled while the first drops tickled her back. This should be an amusing night... Today...

Night, on the road to Loren

Water poured from the skies; winds whipped it wildly around, it ran like a dark sea over the highways and across windshields. The columns halted for the night. The marines were miserable, but they were used to that. Given the choice between trying to spend the night in their vehicles and outside in the maelstrom, they were varied in response, but the squad leaders were firm in not wanting unecessary dampness.
It was impossible to see very far along the roads. Sentries were posted nevertheless.
In his command vehicle, General Dietrich tried not to fume with impatience. Instead, he re-examined maps and intelligence regarding Loren and had his Operations staff make sure all was in readiness for the most efficient movement possible.
As a Marine General, fighting the enemy was actually a tertiary responsibility. First and foremost, he had to have information, material and personnel with which to carry out the act of fighting. Secondly, he needed to be able to move thousands of tons of equipment and thousands of often griping and reluctant people over enormous distances.
He listened to the rain ruthlessly drumming on the roof of the command vehicle, and sighed. Time to get some sleep. He went into the little alcove in the back where his bunk was and lay down to rest. There was a personally autographed photograph of the Empress, and one of his wife and children on the wall. He said a silent prayer for them, for the division, and found himself falling asleep.

Near the International Water Line, Glorious Humanity

Sailor-Recruit Doppler swallowed as she grabbed a line and went out to her shift on the deck of the destroyer Vanir. It was almost pitch black, and water raced cold over her rubber boots and rain sent freezing needles into her face, but the other crewmembers on her shift were lumbering up behind her, forcing her out onto the deck, which was leaning back alarmingly, the stacks and superstructure at bizarre angles, one of the missile racks towering over her like some kind of pagan idle, weird and terrifying in the darkness. She felt like sobbing and fleeing back to her bunk, but it was almost worse down there, trying not to vomit in the faintly smokey human stinking crowd.
Her job was to man one of the leading lights, and she could see it, a wil o the wisp wavering ahead...moving up painstakingly with a Sailor behind her cursing her foully she suddenly also saw something moving ahead of the ship...it was white and wavering...and then she realized to her utter horror that it was a wave, that seemed huge and dark as a mountain, moving with sinister purpose as the ship perversely lunged forward. Black water roiled over the deck, and for a frightening moment she almost lost her grip on the line, and then found the freezing water receding, the ship leaning back again, and she found that she had reached the light.
"Doppler! You alright?" demanded a bosn's mate.
"Yes!" she shouted back over the howl of the wind and water. She had never felt so glad to be alive.

0845 Zulu
Provincial Road 212
Glorious Humanity, Nusquam Esse
Outside Loren

The soft wet scraping sound of the Pajero's windsheild wipers echoed through the silent vehicle as it made it's way toward the city of Loren. Leo Flavius was awake in the passenger's seat of the SUV, as one of the Black Gold Team drove on the road toward the city. Most of the rest of the Black Gold team was using the time to nap, keeping rested for when they would be needed.

Traffic going into the city before them was surprising light, and actually non-existant. Yet, traffic going out of the city was bumper-to-bumper. Everyone was fleeing the city as the military rolled in, in force. It didn't matter much to the Drakonians, they knew not everyone could or would leave. There would still be some means to at least appear civilian.

The SUV sped on, unimpeded by traffic. It would be a busy day, Leo knew. And he would be in the thick of it.

0848 Zulu
Drakonian Diplomatic Corps. Heaquarters
Drako Throne, Drakonian Imperium
Director's Office

Diana Minerva sat waiting in her office. She had been waiting since for what seemed like days to talk to someone in Glorious Humanity, but had met with no success whatsoever. All her messages had been ignored, or more probably set aside for later. Something she found most annoying, especially considering the circumstances.

Her recent chat with Arleigh Markenson had only further upset her. Glorious Humanity was becoming a warzone and for a nation like Glorious Humanity it seemed a crime. It was a crime.

Finally, after waiting at her desk for what seemed to be quite a while, Diana decided to send another message. This time directly, detailed urgent, to the office of the new interim President.

Mr. Peirce,

With recent relations between our nations strained I feal that recent events have made this direct message necessary. I, my department, and my government have dispatch numerous messages to your nation, which have as of yet gone unanswered. It is imperitive that we resume communications.

You have no doubt noticed the recent assistance we unilaterally sent during the attempted missile attacks on your capital. The Imperium appologizes for acting as such. We would not see our friends and allies be hurt so greivously, if it meant or means we can never again be allies.

I offer you our continued assistance in your problem. With the deployment of the 3rd Auxillary Legion to our shared border to combat the recent bio-terror attack at Plain's Bluff. It would be relatively easy for us to dispatch a Battalion to reinforce the allied forces attempting to secure the rebellion near Loren. We can as well offer any additional or other assistance you require.

The Imperium is fully behind Glorious Humanity in your time of need. We only wish to do what we can.

Diana Minerva, Director of the Drakonian Diplomatic Corps.

Realm of the Scr00d, Capital of The Holy Empire of the Scr00d


Mostly benevolent dictator of the Scr00d Griff Steele sat atop his tower of steel and glass, a pillar rising high above the rest of the buildings in the thriving capital of the Scr00d. Ironically, though the government was corrupt the economy was thriving, the city continued to be built layer after layer, one on top of another, an endless jungle of concrete. But nothing would ever reach higher than his tower, from which he ruled it all. So said Griff. The Scr00d had done much research into the fields of genetics, cybernetics, mutations, and natural selection. Though the government denied it, they have secret battalion forces of genetic mutants, cybernetically enhanced for battle.

Of what they were originally no one except the higher up officials in the Scr00d's military is certain, and their lips are sealed. There are rumors that they have Alien DNA in them, from the UFO crash in Boswell, but the no one who actually knew anything would talk. The government had paid too much hush money for that. Other theories included that they're humans not only enhanced cybernetically, but genetically with animal DNA, given the best traits of the best species. There were even rumors that they were animals with no human DNA made sentient through years of selective breeding and lab experiments. But whatever they are, of all the rumors one thing seems to remain constant, these ultra secret Black Ops squads, were not only cybernetically enhance with optical implants, nanites infused in their blood stream to work with their body, but they are also resistant to radiation and most other bio and chemical weapons. Of course simple bullets and explosions can of course do them in, but their enhancment, and body armor made those occurences rare, and when it did occasionally happen, the bodies were whisked away to be analyzed to improve the next generation of super soldier so quickly that no one was the wiser that anything was there in the first place.

Some of the most troubling reports however, included seemingly supernatural feats, possibly psyonic in nature being pulled off in combat by these soldiers. Griff knew all to well the reality of his 'special' project, and the thousands of his subjects lives that were lost in the process of making them. He also knew, that due to the labors of his pharmacolagy engineers, that the past couple of generations had been gifted with ever improving at first glance superhuman feats, even with the cybernetic, genetic and nanite enhancements. Griff and his scientists knew that they were psychic in origin, and that each subject who was given the drug codenamed Hellspawn, was given different 'powers.' Some were able to create blazing infernos with a thought, potentially lighting ablaze their enemies in open field combat. Some were telekinetic, able to move impossibly large objects, with the bat of an eye. There was even one who was able to suck the life energy out of his opponents and use it to heal himself. Griff was proud of his Black Ops warriors, and the things they had recently accomplished.

But what no one knew, or even suspected, is that besides the obvious cybernetic enhancements Griff had made to his own body (cybernetic optical implant, interchangeable fore arm attachments, some of which included, a gattling gun, robotic hand, a claw, and various other things he found useful, sometimes in his torture sessions with suspected illegals, sometimes in peacful acts. It was all the same to Griff, the years of battle had hardened him to the world. But what no one, not even his medical advisors, or even the man who had made the drug knew, was that Griff had taken a dose of Hellspawn himself, and had been gifted with an even more uncommon psychic ability than was reported in any of his soldiers, the gift of foresight. He was able to see the future, he could even see altertnate timelines, and how his actions would affect the future. He could see what the outcome of each choice he made, before he even made it. While this would seem like a marvelous gift to most men, much of the time, it weighed very heavy on Griff's heart, even a psychotic maniac has his limitations, and Griff had literally the weight of the world upon him.

Lately, there had been some disturbing reports of activity along the borders of his empire, and for once, his vision of the future was clouded....not good at all.

Glorious Humanity, a few dozen kilometers from the eastern coast

The four planes touched the ground. It made an incredible noise, and for a few moments, the three man inside each plane thought they wouldn´t survive the crash.

However, they were lucky.

Leaving the plane, Max & Karl looked around, watching the mess their 'landing' had created.

The plane was, naturally, broken. But so were a few bushes, a little tree, and a couple other things.

"Woah..."
"Come on, lets get the equipment out. Where are we, anyway?"
"Uh... Lemme check..." Max walked over to the plane, beginning to unload crates, activating drones, and other things. "Ah. Six kilometers north of our planned position. Not to bad, actually, we`re relatively close to the Academy."

With that, he continued his work. So did the other crews at the other planes...

Soon after it, Things were moving... Birds, one would think. Pigeons, perhaps. But their forms varied...

Not to mention the things that moved on the surface...

---

Glorious Humanity, eastern coast

The boats had arrived, and now, the more interesting thing begun.

Of course, they had to hide, to cover themselves from the storm, but still, some work could be done...

And the first crates were unpacked, the first crawlers readied...

They would need to be ready. And they would honour their needs.

---

DA, Triluminarium

Sakurai giggled. "You aren´t serious. Is this even possible?"
"Well... this is what I am currently checking. If yes, we may be able to give the rebels a lot of time." Clark answered, fairly confident.
"Well... if you say so... I`m sure the Lavenrunzians will explude, should this be successful."
"Yes. Yes, they will." Clark smiles, completely against his habits. "Well then... Lets do it."

There was a break in the weather at last, towards dawn, and Erica von Fischer found herself being rousted from her warm bunk by her own internal alarm clock...and then was tingling all over with that funny feeling. That 'we're about to go into action' feeling.
She and a team of ten Jaegers were going to board a V-22 Osprey, and accompanied by another one that substituted the passengers for thousands of rounds of .50 and 20mm ammunition. Then they were going to fly to some place called Degrass...and rescue the acting President's son.
She sat during the briefing and was told by an intelligence officer from the Admiral's command that they wouldn't need much in the way of supplies or anything, it was a get in quick and get out mission.
Some would have called her paranoid...but Erica just got busy with packing extra water--yeah, yeah, it was raining but who said they'd have a chance at any fresh stuff? and other necessary gear to survive and kill as many people as she had to.

Empress Aurora had made it clear to the Admiral that once in the field, Major von Fischer was to coordinate with the GH special forces, but ultimately her responsibility was to try to rescue Thomas Pierce and then get out safely herself.
The V-22 was an ugly plane, it was called the "Flying Frog" by the troops. It had a way of squatting, nose upright, that made one think of that. With the wings tilted up, it completed the illusion. However, it was a wonderful vehicle, especially with the modifications to flight control and adjustment systems that had reduced the tendency to crash it had had before the Empire bought fifty of them.

Loren, Glorious Humanity
12:00 PM

The Lavenrunzian Ospreys were slightly delayed by the tail end of the storm, but they finally reached Loren. The military air traffic directed them to land at Loren International, and as they came in they saw the civilian airport had been completely appropriated for military use. The civilian planes had been sent to other cities or were being taxied into hangars to make room for military C-5 and C-130s that were landing, dropping off troops or supplies, and taking off again in a rapid, continuous stream. Also landing and taking off were a variety of fighters and bombers; the Air Force had taken to the skies as soon as the storm let up enough to make flying safe. A few helicopters, mostyl gunships, were headed for the airport's pads.

A man with Major's stripes on his uniform approached as they touched down and snapped off a quick salute to the disembarking Lavenrunzians. "Good, you finally made it. I'm Major Hicks, I'm running the outpost here at the airport. Come on."

Hicks led them towards a small group of tents on the tarmac, talking as they walked. He had to shout to make himself heard over the constant roar of jet engines and helicopter rotors. "You're the last thing we were waiting for. We're pouring troops into the city in preparation for a major counter-offensive. Your part is rescue. Here's how it goes, your people and our rescue team are going to be the first stab at Degrass Military Base. You'll be going in to rescue eight prisoners that were kidnapped almost three days ago. Among them is the acting President's son. You'll get your detail briefing in the tent."

A soldier standing guard by the large canvas tent saluted and held the flap open as Major Hicks and Major von Fischer went inside. The tent was huge, and filled mostly with tables covered in maps and boxes of weapons and ammo. There were several Army people walking around taking care of things, and a shortwave radio set was being operated by two technicians in one corner. Lastly, in the back was a group of ten men and women in different uniforms from the rest of the people in the tent. Erica probably recognized the black President's Guard uniforms on five of them.

"Welcome to our little planning center," Hicks grinned. "This is where all the stuff we didn't want to put in the airport's conn tower went. Alright," Hicks continued. "The Glorious Human strike force is a combo Human Angels and President's Guard, five of each. The Angels are some of our best CT forces and the Guard well, they lost two men when the kid was grabbed. They want payback, and we're giving them a shot. All the ones going on this mission are ex-Angels, so no need to worry about fighting alongside budget security guards."

"Even budget security guards would show up your grunts, Major!" One of the Guards called. The voice sounded familiar to Erica, and when Theodore Bolan lifted his head she saw why. His eyes widened slightly when he saw Erica, then he grinned and closed on eye in a slow wink at her before turning his attention back to the map he'd been examining.

"So you admit it?" Hicks shot back, a grin flashing across his face. Despite the gravity of the situation, there was an attitude of relaxed confidence, the mood of people who expect to win. Morale was not an issue right now, which was good.

"Anyway," Hicks gestured towards the table. "Let's introduce you to your coofficers for this mission. Lieutenant Williams, Captain Sargos, front and center!"

The two named men immediately straighted and came over, standing rigidly at attention. "At ease," Hicks told them, then made introductions. "These two are Lieutenant Williams, Angels, and Captain Sargos, President's Guard."

Behind them, the team had stopped going over plans and were watching interestedly. Bolan leaned over and whispered something to one of his comrades that drew a snicker.

"Captain, what the hell are you grinning about?" Hicks suddenly demanded.

Ein Sargos' eyes snapped off Erica to face straight forward again, and his face became impassive once more. "Sir, absolutely nothing, sir!"

Loren, Glorious Humanity

Colonel von Hackelgruber rode proudly, his upper body sticking out of the commander's hatch as he led his battalion up to the outskirs of Loren. Behind him, for miles and miles, the Marine Division was setting up little wakes of water as they rolled vehicles, armored and unarmored, over the highways. It was still raining but not half as badly, and he didn't mind it as it occasionally hit his face...he was rather pleased in a perverse way to see the nice camouflage paintjobs done on the KM-25s and Vogelhunds all smeared with mud and gravel. It meant things were passing the nonsense phase, hopefully..

In the briefing room, Erica studied the maps and listened to Hicks...she was formulating her questions--or rather how to say them since she already had most of them--when she heard a familiar voice.
As she listened to the banter, she felt, to her fury, a blush cross her face. She hoped to God that the camouflage paint covered it...but she couldn't help but look at him. It had been so long, and yet here she was, feeling like a damned schoolgirl. Captain, eh? It suits him...
She cleared her throat. "I need to know more about the building layout, and the non-human security elements we might encounter." she began. "And also what about landing areas for our approach? Are we going directly into the target? What about local enemy reinforcements?" she grinned. "I have more, of course, but before you answer those, one other very important one. I understand that you have achieved air superiority. Does that mean we can do electronic warfare as well?"

"Some," Hicks answered as they pored over the maps. "Unfortunately we're running into a problem. The rebel army is mostly defectors from our own ranks, so they use the same frequencies we do. We jam them and we jam ourselves too. We're using a couple emergency frequencies that are so rarely activated the rebels might not remember them for communications, and keeping talking to a minimum."

"When we leave for our mission," Ein picked up after getting a nod from Hicks. "We'll be maintaining complete radio silence, and the bases here are going to fill the airwaves with meaningless chatter to make it look like we're about to make a big move. The fictional target will be the Academy itself."

"Once we reach Degrass, there will be a jam. Everything will go dead for fifteen minutes in a one-hundred mile radius, covering most of Loren and Degrass Base. That's our window. For fifteen minutes Degrass won't be able to tell anybody that we're hitting them. Two Longbow choppers will fly ahead, and lay down cover fire. We're going in hard, expect a hot LZ." He pulled out a map of Degrass Base itself and pointed to a long, strong-looking building on the east side. "This is the prison right here. We'll touch down here-" he indicated a smaller rectangle in the middle of the big one. "-in the center of the prisoner exercise yard. It'll be a tight fit for all our aircraft, but it should just be big enough, and putting down there will give us some cover from enemy armor and rockets. We've got twenty people I understand, so ten will hold the LZ, ten will go for the hostages."

He pulled out another map, this one an interior view of the prison. "Only three levels in the building, and all the cells are belowground. There are four blocks of cells on two basement levels, we have to check them fast. There's also an interrogation room and two solitary cells. We check 'em all, find our people, and get out. Thomas Piece is the highest priority, but we're supposed to get everyone out, eight hostages total. Then we book it back to the LZ, and the Longbows will keep the enemy entertained again while we dust off. As soon as we're clear and out of range, we're supposed to radio in and bombers will fly to Degrass and turn it into a crater. We have fifteen minutes to do all this. Any questions?"

Major Erica von Fischer looked up. "Just so you know, we've designated our birds Hugin and Munin." the Lavenrunzians thought this was a bit of a groaner like an old old joke. "Apart from that, Major Hicks, thanks for the briefing, and lets do the job."

"That's all then," Hicks nodded. "You lift off in five minutes. Dismissed!"

*************************************************************

Outskirts of Loren

As the Lavenrunzians rolled in to the city, they were met at the city limits by a roadblock of Humvees and tanks. One man with Captain's rank on his uniform stepped forward and saluted. "About time you got here." He waved them through, the vehicles blocking the road parting to let them by.

About a mile past the roadblock they were into thick buildings. Ahead, a supermarket parking lot was full of vehicles and large tents, and soldiers were moving around carrying equipment or patrolling. When the sentries spotted the Lavenrunzians, they radioed in and a minute later Colonel Derek Masters was out to greet von Hackelgruber.

"Good day," he called up to the Colonel as the man's vehicle rolled in. "Park your hardware, don't worry about clogging the road. You're the last one we've been expecting from this direction. Come inside, got maps for you to look at. We've set up eight command posts around the city to coordinate our forces. This is Post 6."

*************************************************************

One mile from Post 6

Captain Henry Longsten checked the skies. A government Longbow was passing overhead, heading somewhere to cause trouble no doubt. Longsten checked his watch, his team was four minutes ahead of schedule.

As soon as the Longbow was gone he nodded to his men behind him, one with a portable mortar slung on his back. "Let's move."

Quietly, they crept through the back alleys towards the post.

*************************************************************

Outside the planning tent at the airport

Ein stretched, looking up at the drippy sky. Miserable weather, but that was balanced by his anticipation of the coming mission. It had been a while since he'd been on a real soldiering job, and it felt very good to be back in action.

Particularly back in action with Erica. Ein knew now why he'd gotten picked for this mission. He and Bolan had fought alongside Lavenrunzians before, probably command figured they'd be best suited to help smooth over differences and encourage coordination. Then again, what were the odds of Erica being on the strike team? He didn't know, though he was just as glad she was here. It was good to see her again, be near her.

He sighed and tried to get his thoughts straight. He had to make sure everything ran smoothly, he was the highest ranking GH officer going on the mission, Hicks was staying behind. Erica technically outranked him, but she wouldn't be leading the Glorious Human element of this.

"Heyo, Mr. Captain Dude," Bolan said just over his shoulder. "Wake up! No daydreaming on this job, hmm? We need your head on straight."

"Oh stuff it, Sergeant," Ein addressed Bolan by rank, suddenly flushed with annoyance, mostly because he knew his friend was right. Time to get on the ball.

"Check your watch," Bolan advised. Ein looked down and did so, and blinked. Crap... He turned and went back into the tent. "Thirty seconds! Everyone get your gear."

Colonel von Hackelgruber climbed down and nodded a bow to Masters. "Colonel Masters. I am Colonel von Hackelgruber, of the 1st Imperial Marines, Recon Battalion. Maps! You are most providential! Sergeant Major!"
"Your Honour!"
"Keep the column moving to the command post. Leave a squad from Company A here with the command vehicle." he barked.
"Yes, your Honour!" the Sergeant Major bellowed orders that could be heard over the growling engines as the column swung neatly in a disciplined fashion along the aforementioned road.
"Let us go and see those maps, Colonel Masters..." suggested von Hackelgruber, standing as though he had discovered the road himself after slaughtering thousands of hostile natives and crossing giant rivers.

Staging Area

Erica was busy talking with Sergeant-Major Katzenburg about whether everything was ready. In the Jaegers an officer, even a Major, had often a closer relationship with the troops, and there was sometimes a blur in the line of "you tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it" that most NCOs gave to their commanders. She and Katzenburg had worked together for a good while...they were the very best Lavenrunz had.
As she turned away, she saw Ein's face, and without thinking she found herself smiling slightly. Her eyes lit up. She thought of her girl back home, and was tough enough to put aside worries about what she had to lose...she wanted to do her damndest to make sure he got back safe, and to make sure her adopted daughter would have a Mother.
At the go ahead, she nodded to Hicks and shouted, "Let's go, Jaegers!" and climbed into the hatchway, watching as her team climbed in one by one, each armed to the teeth and ready for bear. The Ospreys, filled to the brim with electronics bristling around, belts of ammunition, rockets and other killing machinery....one of them full at last with eleven Jaegers and rising with an awkward looking lurch, swirling dust everywhere.
Erica kissed her cross, then the little locket with the Empress' picture in it, praying for those she loved and for those on her team...

Ministry of International Relations

Frank Pierce had flatly refused to use Albert's office while he was being President. Instead, he still presided from the same office he'd had for two decades. He was sifting through various communications, mostly routine diplomatic stuff, when his phone rang.

A quick glance at the row of buttons indicating various secure lines between the Ministry offices, and the one from the Army Command was flashing. Pierce grabbed the phone and tapped the button for that line. "Yes?"

"They just took off," Ablegard's voice on the other end told Pierce. "You wanted to be informed when the rescue was underway."

"Yes, yes I did. Thanks Herb," Pierce replied.

"Anytime. Sorry I can't chat, but we're still coordinating over here."

"No problem. Good luck," Pierce said. Ablegard thanked him back and hung up.

Pierce paused for a long moment, staring at the far wall without really seeing it. He suddenly felt tired. He had the urge to grab the phone again and ask Ablegard for updates every few minutes, but that would only cause trouble. At this point all he could do was hope.

His gaze fell back down to his desk, and stopped at the left edge. Sitting there was a photo of himself and Thomas in hunting gear. Frank was an avid hunter, and periodically he talked his son into going along on trips. The picture had been taken last year, Frank couldn't even recall what they'd been hunting. He and Thomas were standing back to back in the photo like a pair of action heroes, simultaneously trying to look tough with their rifles and not crack up laughing.

A year ago, just a year... They hadn't taken a vacation since that time. Frank was planning one for the coming summer... assuming he didn't have to go alone.

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the now-familiar feelings of hopelessness and helplessness wash over him and dissipate. Back to work.

His eyes deliberately avoided the photograph of Thomas as they returned to the desk, and he picked up the paper on top of his current stack. This was the Drakonian transmission, and he set about formulating a reply.

*************************************************************

TO: Diana Minerva, Drakonian Diplomatic Corps
FROM: Frank Pierce, Acting President, Glorious Humanity
RE: Assistance

Nice to see we still have friends. We're trying to get things sorted here, as you can imagine it's a little chaotic right now.

Your assistance, while unexpected, was not unappreciated. I understand your missiles got the last ICBM just before it hit. Glorious Humanity is very glad for your help, although we would appreciate a warning next time. Then again, maybe you sent one, I still haven't seen all the messages that went unanswered during the crisis.

At any rate, if you're dealing with your own problems no need to burden yourselves with ours. For now, the battalion you offered would be appreciated, but only if you can really spare it without endangering yourselves. I look forward to hearing from you again.

*************************************************************

The skies near Degrass Base
12:36 PM

"Wake up back there," one of the Longbow pilots spoke in Sargos' headset. "We are two minutes out."

"Affirmative," Ein replied.

In the Longbows, the gunners began engaging countermeasures. Nothing happened in any spectrum the human eye could see, but on the infrared spectrum pulses of light began shooting out from the choppers. These were designed to confuse tracking systems on guided missiles, and would make the Longbows much harder targets. Also, the gunners poised their fingers over the buttons that would release chaff and flares just in case a missile wasn't fooled by the passive defenses.

"One minute," the pilot announced to the transports. The vehicles were flying as low as they possibly could to avoid being spotted early by the defenders, but just ahead, the pilot of one of the gunships saw a glint of metal.

*************************************************************

A C-130, circling at 30,000 feet

"Strike team, make note: Jam effective in 3...2...1..." Air Force Captain Maria Hodges spoke into her headset to the vehicles below, then she nodded. Instantly the man next to her flipped a series of switches.

This C-130 was specially modified. Instead of carrying cargo, it carried a complex array of equipment installed into it's body. Jammers of all kinds, powerful radio sets, uplinks to satellietes, a few others. It was meant to be a flying coordinator between battlefields and bases, and also engage in electronic warfare.

That was what it did now. The powerful scrambling devices on the aircraft lanced out, forming a blanket through which no radio transmission could get through. A moment later, other planes circling farther away activated their devices, extending the blanket to cover the required area.

It had begun.

*************************************************************

Degrass Base

"Colonel, we just picked something up on radar," a young sergeant informed Stanzer as he walked into his office.

"What something?" Stanzer inquired testily. The last couple days had not been going well.

"Four aircraft sir, flying low and slow, towards us," the sergeant replied.

Stanzer's head snapped up, then he grabbed the radio on his desk to call the radar center. As he flicked it on though, he cringed from a shriek of ear-splitting static and hastily shut it off again. Then he turned the volume down and methodically cycled through the channels on the radio. All static, everywhere.

"Get some privates to act as runners," he barked to the sergeant, who was staring at him now. "Alert the base. Move man!"

"Sir... what's going on?" The sergeant asked nervously.

"What's going on?" Stanzer repeated. "What's going on is our radios have just been jammed and there are four aircraft heading this way. What's going on is we are about to be attacked!"

*************************************************************

Outside

There were six guard towers, one at each corner of Degrass, plus two at the midpoints. The man in the northeastern tower was coutning the minutes till he was relieved when a strange sound reached his ears. Frowning, he looked out across the horizon. That had sounded like rotors...

Then he saw them. Helicopters, accelerating as they approached the base. Longbows. Stanzer didn't have any Longbows.

He realized who they had to belong to and snatched for his radio. "This is NE tower, I have visual of incoming enemy aircraft!" Then he jerked his head away at the static screech. Quickly he cycled through channels, repeating his message, but all he got was static.

He was so caught up in trying to raise the base that he didn't even hear the choppers get closer. Finally he shut off the radio and turned to go down the ladder out of his little hut atop the tower.

As soon as the radio's screech was gone, the rotor sounds began thundering in his ears. Looking back, he saw the choppers were only about thirty yards away. From that distance, he could see the lefthand gunships rocket packs suddenly spit fire, and two rockets streaked towards the tower.

The guard was too panicked to even think about jumping out and dropping to the ground. All he could think about was that people had come to kill him, and he was going to die.

The tower blew apart spectacularly, and a moment later the Longbows roared past the flaming wreckage. All over the base, air raid sirens started blaring.

*************************************************************

Loren, about three hundred yards from Post 6

Captain Longsten held up a closed fist for stop, and his team stopped. He considered, pulling the map of this area up in his mind.

"We are close enough," he said finally. "Begin setting up."

They were on a rooftop, in plain view, but Captain Longsten hadn't seen any planes or choppers pass over for a while. Besides, he and his men were still wearing their GH Army uniforms, if they were spotted, he was counting on them being mistaken for government forces for vital seconds. He could hear the government forces, though the buildings prevented him from seeing them. The mortar's arc wouldn't care though.

A minute later, his mortar man spoke up. "We are ready."

Longsten checked his watch and lifted his radio to his lips. "Base, Mortar 4 in position, is the artillery ready?"

His only answer was a blast of static. He lowered the radio and swore, then checked his watch again. Less than a minute to fire time. He'd have to assume his comrades were in place.

He held up one hand, watching his timepiece. Five, four, three, two...

His hand sliced down. "Fire!"

*************************************************************

Post 6

"...after Kilyton is recaptured, we'll surround the Academy and just pound them into submission," Masters finished outlining the plan to von Hackelgruber. The two were in Post 6's command tent, poring over maps. This place was busy too, with soldiers constantly bringing in reports or taking out orders to the troops. The radiomen in one corner were lounging easily, having nothing to do now that the jamming was in effect.

The other Colonel was about to ask something when Masters suddenly frowned and held up a hand. "Quiet a second. I thought I heard something."

He waited a few seconds, then shrugged. "Hmmm, must've been wind or something. Anyway, do you have any-"

Then they both heard it. A distinctive, unmistakable whistle. Then just outside the tent was a thunderous detonation, followed by screams and shouting.

*************************************************************

All over the city, the rebels suddenly made themselves known.

There were several major highways and streets that formed a quick and easy path through the city, and thus the military had been making great use of them to shuttle troops deeper into the city. The rebels had been quietly figuring out what areas were most travelled, then moving mortar teams into place to target those areas. At the appointed time, the mortar teams opened up, raining death on surprised convoys and troops.

Glorious Humanity, Loyalist Territory

The small group, perhaps two dozen infantrists on two transporters, had been waiting all day, nothing was happening. Nothing at all. It was almost as if the rebels were doing...

Nothing.

Just a few birds in the sky.

Surprisingly close, to be correct...

---

Volcano Island, Gandhi Security Industries, Underground Complex

She smiled. She was young, perhaps fifteen, no, more likely fourteen years old, her short, blonde hair barely visible with all the gear connected to her, black and brown tubes and cables running from her spinal cord, her forehead and her fingertips to the machines around her.

She was almost naked, wearing clothes when being connected by way of countless connections to one`s body was almost impossible, and she had lost her sense of shame a long time ago... But then, being embraced by the machines as she was, she wasn´t really naked... Just different.

There you are...

She smiled, giggling. She could feel them, their signals running to the satellites and back to her... and she could feel them following her commands...

With the local Eye assisting in her endeavours, it was almost too easy... She couldn´t feel any kind of interference. And so, she controlled them, just like a few other operators were controlling others...

There you are, my children...

Of course, the drones could operate without her help, but that could have... unwanted results, their friend/ foe recognition wasn´t exactly the best, at least not in this particular situation, with both sides having normals.

And then she saw them.

Hello there, my friends... Nice to meet you.

Glorious Humanity, Loyalist Territory

Suddenly, the birds were flying towards them... Not in a swarm, not fast and threatening, no... Slowly, friendly, simply not fearing the soldiers...

"Look... Would make a nice meal, eh?"
"I prefer beef, thank you very much..."

This was the moment the birds were very close...

Volcano Island, Gandhi Security Industries, Underground Complex

Bang. She smiled, and for a second, she chuckled. It gave her a thrill... an almost erotic feeling... She could feel it, the warmth between her legs, in her belly...

Next one... She thought, her thoughts almost lascivious.

Glorious Humanity, A Military Airbase (Loyalist)

"A lot of birds out there, don´t you think so?" The two pilots were standing next to one of their own 'birds', watching the now clear sky. Finally, the storm was over, now, they would be able to do their job...
"Yeah. Goddamnit, I don´t want them in my engines... F*cking feather- bellied thingy´s..."
"Hey... They`re coming close..."

Glorious Humanity, near the outskirts of Loren

The sixteen men arrived a bit late, the battle had already begun. However, they still had their drones with them, and they were pretty sure they could prove to be useful, anyway...

All of them were connected to the networks, to satellites, assisted by The Eye, information almost flooding their brains... Actually, it was hard to concentrate.

Quickly, they got the necessary data. Assumed rebel positions, assumed loyalist positions...

I hope the guys at the Academy informed them about our arrival.
Yah. Well, we need to make contact with the local command soon. Don`t want them to shoot at us.

Max chuckled. Would be fun.

And with that, they begun to set up their position. Shiny anti- air equipment... Now if our tanks would be as good... Max thought, jacking into the regional network from which he would remote control the (barely sentient) drones.

And while the others prepared their position, their artillery and other defences, he begun moving his own things forward, the Crawler- tanks looking almost creepy, slowly moving forward... Towards Loren.

At the same time, Karl jacked into multiple communication networks, his half- artificial spinal cord visible, touches by air, chilling him...

Seconds later, their men at the Academy had been informed about their arrival, just in case.

The Academy

Finally Asad thought, and looked around, for his colleague. "They arrived. Now the fun will begin."

She smiled back. "Hopefully, it all works out. I hate to travel, disguised like some poor terrorist."
"Heh..." Asad laughed. "Would be annoying, yes. Now, talk to Sader about it. If we win there, we will be much closer to our target..."

Cathedral of the Archangels, Hofburg, Lavenrunz


O GOD, thou art my God; early will I seek thee: my soul thirsteth for thee, my flesh longeth for thee in a dry and thirsty land, where no water is. To see thy power and thy glory, so as I have seen thee in the sanctuary. The choir sang softly, their voices hauntingly beautiful in the glorious acoustics of the sacred place.
Aurora knelt in sackcloth, a penitent and supplicant, ashes on her hands and on her head. She had tears in her eyes, her hands were clasped, and she rocked back and forth. Above her, the Cathedral's heights soared...seraphim and cherubim in awesome wonder were arrayed, circling into infinity.
Because thy lovingkindness is better than life, my lips shall praise thee. Thus will I bless thee while I live: I will lift up my hands in thy name. My soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and fatness, and my mouth shall praise thee with joyful lips.
"Please Lord..." she whispered. "Holy Mother of God...dear Lord Jesus...please bring him back safely."
When I remember thee upon my bed, and meditate on thee in the night watches, because thou has been my help, therefore in the shadow of thy wings will I rejoice. My soul followeth hard after thee: thy right hand upholdeth me.
The music wrenched at her soul. She repented for vanity, for wrath unforgiving.
Then she hardened her resolve.
But those that seek my soul, to destroy it, shall go into the lower parts of the earth. They shall fall by the sword, they shall be a portion for foxes. But the king shall rejoice in God, every one that sweareth by him shall glory, but the mouth of them that speak lies shall be stopped.
"Amen." said the young Empress.

Degrass Base, Glorious Humanity[/i]

The Ospreys soared down from the clouds like--flying frogs, Erica thought ruefully. But they flew, dammit....she couldn't do a damned thing if there were any anti-aircraft down there, but definitely the helicopters from Glorious Humanity were there--right on time.
"This is it." she snapped. "Get ready."
Switching to helicopter mode, the planes slowed and tilted their rotors, hovering down to the little courtyard. Actually rushing down, it was as if the ground lurched up with alarming swiftness...and almost by instinct, the Jaegers were leaping out, ducking to avoid getting cut to pieces by the rotors, the tail gunners vigilant, Erica feeling a wild rush and a strange simultaneous coldness as she moved to the area designated, the team eager as hounds.

[b]Base Six, Loren

Hackelgruber found himself lying on the ground; it wasn't the first time he had just flung himself down by instinct. He moved to a crouch and cursed. "Damn, they are close! RTO, where the hell are you?"
"Here, your Honour." said the trembling voice of the young soldier.
"Alright. I want a counterbarrage, by the Empress, right away, from 4-5th Artillery." He stood up and nodded to his opposite number. "With respect, I'm going to rejoin my battalion now."

Captain Friedland, leading "B" Company of the Recon Battalion, was popping his head out of the hatch to get a bearing visually when he heard a terrifying boom and felt the vehicle shake more than it usually did. His eyes popped. That was just a few hundred yards off--hell, they were being shelled!
"Your Honour, orders coming in!" shouted his RTO from within. He didn't need an engraved invitation to drop back in--not that the APC could actually hold off an artillery shell, but it felt a bit better. He listened: the Colonel was demanding that they get the hell out there and find the enemy. Find out if this was selective target firing or the beginning of a neutralization barrage.
The Captain was relieved. At least he'd be doing something; the idea of sitting down being shelled while waiting for orders was not to his liking at all.
Along with Friedland, the other companies, the heavy weapons platoon and the engineers platoon found themselves racing along the roads away from the city...
As they did, the rest of the division was reaching the outskirts.
4-5th Artillery pivoted off-road, their covering company of infantry deploying in a protective V while the self propelled guns and Landsknecht rocket batteries rumbled into a staggered line formation. As they did, a flight of Fledermauss helicopters from the fleet swooped off past the city, to coordinate with recon to find the enemy artillery.

Degrass Base

Ein threw the transport's door open and watched the ground approaching. "Five seconds!" The team lined up, ready to jump out. The helicopter landed hard on the concrete ground of the exercise yard and Ein was already leaping out. "Go! Go! Go!"

The team had made two lines before jumping, one behind Ein, the other behind Lieutenant Williams. There was a single steel door at the north end of the yard, Ein and his part of the team, which included Bolan, another Guard, and two Angels, raced for it. Lieutenant Williams had the other half of the GH strike team, and he distributed them to defend the LZ. There were two barred windows that looked out into the courtyard and could serve as fire ports for the defenders, within a second two rifles were pointed at each window and chattering fire into the building.

Ein's force met the Lavenrunzian element of the storming team at the door, and they stacked up on either side while Corporal Johnson, Ein's demolition man, ran a length of detrope around the doorframe, then stuck in a detonator. Ein pulled the pin on a flashbang and held it up so the Lavenrunzians could see he was going to toss it when the door was opened.

The line of plastique went off with a hissing crack, instantly cutting away the door's hinges, and Johnson's boot cleared the obstruction completely. Ein leaned into the door and made a smooth underhand toss into the hall. Then he jerked back, mentally counting down to detonation. Exactly two seconds later, the flashbang went off, the narrow hallway channeling the explosion into a hurricane of concussive force. Ein heard howls of pain from inside, and signalled the team forward, already moving inside himself.

*************************************************************

Inside, Warden's Office

Captain Michael Duncan heard the explosion just as a private burst into his spartan office.

"Sir! We're under attack!"

"So I hear." Duncan already knew what to do. Stanzer had given very explicit orders about what was to happen in this situation. "Gather the prisoners in Cellblock 4. I will be there shortly."

*************************************************************

Loren International

"What the bloody hell?" Pilot Jim Connolley stared up as the "birds" swooped in towards the airfield. He'd never seen birds come swooping in to a busy airport.

When three of them broke off and dove for a taxiing fighter, he knew for sure they weren't birds. Then two dove for his fighter, which he was standing next to. "Shit!"

A moment later, explosions were rocking the airfield as personnel on the ground scattered away from their planes. Four planes went up, fortunately not very many were on the ground at the time. Unfortunately, one of the planes was the taxiing fighter, which was hit in the engines. These blew out spectacularly, and the plane skidded sideways, thrown by the explosion and engufled in flames, before stopping near the end of the runway.

Worse was the tanker truck. Two birds smashed into a tanker that was refueling a parked Longbow. [i]That explosion eclipsed just about every other blast on the airfield, and worse, once a hole had been torn in the large tank burning fuel began pouring out, making a spreading pool of fire.

Major Hicks came out of the planning tent just in time to see the tanker go up. That was the last explosion, then as quickly as it had come, the attack was over. Two minutes later, fire trucks and rescue personnel were racing out onto the airfield.

*************************************************************

An intersection

As Captain Friedlund's force roared out, another surprise was waiting for them. At the intersection of 16th Street and Highway 192, the surrounding buildings opened fire.

The rebel soldiers inside had been lying in wait all morning, letting columns rumble past unmolested, waiting for the time to strike. They were one of dozens of ambush points throughout the city, that had been placed as strategically as the artillery fire, with the purpose of disrupting the enemy movement and taking them by surprise.

Heavy machine guns chattered, raining fire down on the vehicles as they tried to move through. Then, when they were in the center of the intersection, the rocket fire began, both guided and unguided missiles streaking out of upper floor windows. This area had several tall buildings with multiple stories, mostly office buildings, that made excellent vantage points for the gunners. One one corner, a convenience store was spitting bullets through shattered front windows; the Lavenrunzians could see soldiers running around inside.

The trap had sprung, and was springing everywhere. All over the city government and allied forces were coming under fire, and because of the radio blackout they couldn't give any warnings to their fellows who were walking right into similiar traps.

*************************************************************

Three hundred yards from Post 6

Captain Longsten couldn't help being delighted. The other mortars had been right in position, and death was now raining into the government camp. He could hear the screams even from this distance, as well as explosions from the shells hitting regularly now.

He almost felt a little pity for the people his team was destroying. A week ago he'd called them comrades, they were all on the same side. All defenders of the country together. It was mildly disturbing.

He shook away those thoughts. Orders were orders, and they weren't comrades. Not anymore. They were the enemy, and would be treated like any other.

Outskirts of Loren

The four Crawler- tanks came closer. Slowly, accompanied by a couple smaller drones, light, self- propelled artillery and other things... Basically, about half the stuff (All of the heavier stuff) the four planes had carried.

Yet, they didn`t encounter any fighting, only rebels, obviously being informed as of who they were... or rather, what they were.

Eventually, they entered the eastern parts of the city, not yet arriving at the actual battlefield.

DA, Triluminarium

"This news are... concerning."
"Indeed. They are. So, what are we going to do?" Clark looked at Althena, questioning. The time the two wanted each other dead was long gone. Well, not long, but it was... The past.
"Well... Changing their... internal structure while the conflict is continuing is a remarkably bad idea. We can`t do much there. However..." Althena hesitated.
"However?"
"However, there are this other psychics we got news about. The ones not joining their kin at the academy."
Clark`s eyes narrowed. "Kinslayers?"
"Probably. And I have a few ideas for them..." Althena smiled. So did Clark, for that matter.
"Let me hear them."

The Jaegers moved into the building, taut, alert, their sights aimed at all angles. Erica motioned them into the stink of smoke and cordite and she was aware of one of the team firing a short burst into someone who was probably wounded by trying to crawl for a weapon. She remembered the schematic of the building in her head, and the models shown by Hicks.
"Work our way through the cell blocks one by one." she said to Katzenburg. "Move it."

Loren, Captain Friedland's Company

On the command link, there was a harsh squeal and a solid BOOM! was heard as the lead APC was ripped open by a rocket. The howling of guided missiles and the roar of machinegun fire tore into the little column--there was a ripping thunderous explosion as one of the Vogelhund 700's, carrying anti-tank missiles, was blown apart, the turret flying off, flames licking hungrily, black smoke pouring out.
Friedland was aware of the world shaking apart, of being flipped around like a toy...then a strange moment of wondering what was going on. He could see nothing, it was like being in a dream wrapped in velvet. Then he saw something like tongues wavering, dancing. They were very warm. He heard moaning, and realized it was him, that he was in his own vehicle. Somehow he couldn't move. But the flames could.
One of the KM-25s held Lieutenant Offenbach, who backed his vehicle up, treads squealing, and ordered the autocannon gunner to open fire on one of the buildings. The 25mm rounds thundered out, sparks flying as they tore into bricks and metal, ripping through windows and punching holes in concrete. The other vehicles in the heavy platoon got the idea, their turrets swiveling as if they were in an ancient square, fighting enemies on all sides. Offenbach, ignoring for once how much like a kid he sounded when he yelled orders, cried out for the units in his platoon to fire the anti-tank missiles. He winced as a sharp shriek in his ear told him one of his vehicles had been taken out. But then he was rewarded by the fiery noises of Drakon anti-tank missiles roaring out of their launchers around him.
The Imperial Marine squads inside the apcs, those not burning or dead, were ordered out by their NCOs. Immediately, some were torn into bleeding palpitating meat by heavy machineguns, but others followed their training and experience and went for cover, moving towards the buildings by dodging from vehicle to vehicle. Lieutenant Gerhardt, leading the ground element, felt a slap to her hand that slammed her carbine away. She realized her thumb and forefinger had been shot off. Without thinking about it she grabbed her carbine and huddled behind a smouldering and shot to pieces signals vehicle with part of a rifle squad. Fortunately there was an RTO, and she immediately called in covering aviation.
"Yellowjacket, this is Rover Three." she said clearly. "I need a Puddlejump. Over."
"Understood, Rover Three. Yellowjacket out."
Gerhardt suddenly felt like puking or fainting, one of the two...

Above the city, two Valkyr gunships and a Fledermauss observation bird winged their way towards the ambush.

Outskirts of Loren

4-5 Field Artillery had its 155mm guns ready, Landsknecht missiles ready. Major Ludendorff, a stoutish, coldly clever man, had received instructions as to the general location of the enemy artillery. The recon battalion had not yet met up with the enemy according to his last communiques.
He glanced at his map again just to be sure. He liked to do everything precisely, down to the minute.
He glanced up at his Chief Bombardier, who was waiting, his face expressionless.
Ludendorff straightened, put his helmet on, and folded his arms.
"You may open fire with all batteries." he said.
"Yes, your Honour!" the Chief Bombardier saluted, waited till it was returned, and turned round to place his whistle in his mouth. He blew it loudly. It was returned by the battery commanders, and the guns and launchers opened fire.

Degrass Base, Prison Complex

Cellblock One was thirty feet ahead. The door was unlocked, and Bolan opened it while Ein readied another flashbang. On signal Bolan threw the door wide, and the flashbang went rolling in. There was a blast, and the team rushed in with M16s ready.

There were four people in the room. One man was on his back, his weapon a foot away. The other three were shaking their heads, trying to clear the aftermath of the blast. The strike team's weapons chattered rapidly, and the three standing were put down. The guy on the ground had a rifle butt slammed into his chest, and then was held at gunpoint.

A quick search was all it took to confirm this place empty. None of the cells were occupied. "Shit," Ein muttered.

"What now?" Bolan asked.

Ein looked around again. His eyes fell on the rebel soldier, who was gasping on the floor. "We're going to ask our new friend some questions." He waved Erica over as he approached the man.

*************************************************************

Cellblock 4

Thomas spent most of his time now sleeping. There was nothing else to do, besides eat and walk around the exercise yard when they were allowed to. In sleep, he could pretend he was free, not in this hellhole. He dreamed of his dad, and hunting, riding his dirt bike around town. He dreamed about kissing Empress Aurora in Lavenrunz, recalled the reaction of his father to that.

And then he wasn't dreaming anymore, as a thunderous explosion ripped through the complex, jarring him out of rest. He sat up in his cell, sleepily rubbing his eyes, and was aware of people running around outside the bars, booted feet thumping and shouted commands. Then his cell door opened, and two men entered. They grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and hauled him out of the cell. Adrenaline at the sudden action banished the last of his sleep, and he saw clearly that he was being put in line with the other prisoners here. Nobody looked very good, despite the basically good treatment in the prison. Hands were cuffed and they were all left sitting on their knees, with guards posted.

Thomas thought he heard what sounded like gunfire, then another explosion. Something that sounded like helicopters too. Was the base being attacked?

*************************************************************

Cellblock 1

The soldier was roughly pulled to his feet and held there by one of the Guards and one of the Angels as Ein stood in front of him. The man was still shaking his head and gasping.

"You!" Ein shouted to make sure the man heard him through the effects of the flashbang. "Where are the prisoners?"

"Wha?" the man's eyes opened, and he peered owlishy at the figure in front of him.

"Prisoners. Where?" Ein repeated.

The man realized where he was and who was speaking to him. "They're up your ass," he answered. Then he folded, or tried to, as Ein drove his fist into the man's gut. The soldiers holding him yanked him up straight again.

"Wrong answer," Ein told him. "Try again."

"Fuck you," the rebel replied.

POW! This time it was a backfist across the man's face. Again he was jerked straight, blood now leaking from his lip.

"Try again," Ein said, cracking his knuckles ominiously.

"Cellblock 4," the man said, then a smirk crossed his face. "They're being executed as we speak."

"Cellblock 4," Ein repeated. "Thanks."

"Have fun," the rebel grinned, trying without success to look tough. "Maybe you can hear 'em die if you hurry."

Ein's last punch hit him straight in the solar plexus. His eyes glazed over as he lost conciousness. At a nod from Ein the soldiers let him slump to the ground.

"Leave him," Ein ordered, picking up his rifle again. "Let's go!"

*************************************************************

Cellblock 4

Captain Duncan strode into the cellblock flanked by two guards. The first thing Thomas noticed about him was that his face was set in a kind of regretful determination. The second thing he noticed was that the Captain had a pistol in his hand.

"Watch the door," Duncan ordered the men who'd come with him. Then he faced the prisoners.

"I'm truly sorry I have to do this," he said quietly. "This base is under attack. They're coming to try to get you out. And my orders are clear."

It took the prisoners approximately two seconds to figure out what he meant. Then the television reporter started screaming, babbling, pleading for her life. The March of Man leader was silent, sitting stony faced. Most of the rest of the prisoners were now sobbing or pleading, the same way the reporter was.

Thomas sat silently, barely able to believe it. They were being rescued... only the rebels were going to try to kill them before the rescue arrived.

"Well, I'm afraid nothing can change it now," Duncan said. "Might as well get started." He walked down the line. Thomas stared at the ground as he heard the boots approach him. Then they stopped.

Thomas raised his eyes from the floor. He saw combat boots, followed them up the legs of the uniform, the jacket... and then he was staring at Duncan's face.

The Captain shook his head and wiped his eyes. "Why do I gotta get stuck shooting a kid?" he muttered to himself. Then he brought the pistol up.

Thomas' whole life flashed before his eyes. Faces jumped into his suddenly swimming vision, faces of loved ones, of people who'd miss him. His father and mother of course, and Albert, and a few others. The last face surprised him though.

I'm sorry Aurora, I guess I won't be writing.

Thomas closed his eyes as Duncan pulled the trigger.

Erica and her team ran to Cellblock 4, not neglecting to watch for an ambush along the way. They went by twos, quick but still covering each little rushing advance, speaking in low voices into their communicators.
There were guards, moving to cover, firing at them, sounding incredibly loud, the sharp smell vivid, bullets zinging at them as they moved for cover as well. Slam, down went a Jaeger, and Erica had no time to really wonder if the kevlar had stopped it before she was firing a burst and Katzenburg beside her even as another flung a flash-bang.

Erica and her team ran to Cellblock 4, not neglecting to watch for an ambush along the way. They went by twos, quick but still covering each little rushing advance, speaking in low voices into their communicators.
There were guards, moving to cover, firing at them, sounding incredibly loud, the sharp smell vivid, bullets zinging at them as they moved for cover as well. Slam, down went a Jaeger, and Erica had no time to really wonder if the kevlar had stopped it before she was firing a burst and Katzenburg beside her even as another flung a flash-bang.

Cellblock 4

Click.

Thomas hadn't expected to hear that sound. Slowly, he opened his eyes. He was still in the cellblock, still felt cold concrete beneath him. He was still breathing, whimpering softly as he waited to die.

But he didn't die. He continued living.

Click.

Thomas finally worked up the courage to look up. Captain Duncan still had the gun pointed at him. The expression on his face was one of purest disbelief. Thomas saw him pull the trigger twice more.

Click. Click.

The gun was jammed.

*************************************************************

Outside Cellblock 4

"Grenade!" Someone yelled as the flashbang arced over. Ein threw himself flat with his hands over his ears and his face pressed to the ground as the weapon detonated in an inferno of light and sound. Ears ringing but still able to hear and see, Ein pulled his rifle up, firing from a prone position. Two rebel soldiers were racing down the hall, firing wildly at the team. One staggered as a 5.56 mm burst hammered into him, then fell as the gunfire walked up his chest. The other glanced to side for just a moment, then his neck exploded in red spray. From a similiar prone position three feet away, Bolan gave Ein a thumbs-up.

Ein was back on his feet a moment later, checking everyone. He pointed to one of the Angels. "You! Get him back to the LZ!" He indicated the fallen Jaeger, then waved everyone else forward. "Follow me!"

It was another twenty yards to the cellblock door, a heavy steel affair that spoke eloquently of barred access. Ein held up one hand, palm flat, and thrust it towards the door to indicate a dynamic entry to the others, many of whom were having trouble with their hearing. Then he waved Johnson forward. The demo man already had more detrope out, and it took him only a couple seconds to put it in place. Then he hit the detonator.

*************************************************************

Cellblock 4

They all heard the hissing crack, and Thomas saw the flash as the door hinges were cut away. Duncan's soldiers, five total including the ones who had come with him to the cellblock, rushed forward, dropping to knees and readying weapons.

Duncan knew it was over. He gave up trying to unjam his gun and just watched his men prepare to sell their lives dearly.

The door crashed open, and a flashbang came rolling in. Thomas was blinded and deafened by the detonation, and just stared at the floor, trying to clear the pain from his head. When he looked up again, it was over.

He saw different uniforms, recognized some of them, didn't recognize others. Somebody was saying something, but he coudn't hear anything. Slowly his hearing returned.

"...okay?"

"Huh?" Thomas managed.

"I asked, are you okay, kid?" Bolan looked Thomas over as the boy nodded slowly, then, satisfied that he wasn't lying, he went to check the others. Thomas was still trying to put together what was happening. Were these the rescuers? Was he safe? His eyes still had spots dancing in front of them, but he picked out bodies on the floor. One of them was Captain Duncan.

"All eight accounted for," Bolan reported to Ein and Erica. "We seriously lucked out that they didn't get a chance to kill anybody."

"They did," Thomas said quietly.

"Hmm?" Three heads swiveled towards him.

"The gun jammed," Thomas explained. "It wouldn't fire."

Ein and Bolan looked at each other, then Bolan retrieved Duncan's weapon, a foot from the dead man's hand. He tapped the trigger a couple times, then tried to work the slide. "I'll be goddamned..."

"Jammed?" Ein asked unnecessarily.

"Seriously," Bolan answered. "And it won't unlock at all." He looked towards Thomas, and shook his head slowly. "Somebody loves you, kid."

*************************************************************

16th and Highway 192

The gunfire all around him was deafening, but Private First Class Michael Killeson grimly kept the trigger on his M240 machine gun, swinging the gun in sweeping arcs to hose down the Lavenrunzian column and pepper the soldiers pouring out of vehicles to try to storm the position. Next to him, Private Patricia Mason kept the gun's ammo belt steady and moving.

Killeson had never felt anything like this. Terror and adrenaline and a maniacal glee at the power of his weapon all came together in a battle euphoria unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. This was his first time shooting at live humans who shot back, and who would kill him if they had the chance. He had to kill them first, before that chance came.

He and Mason were crouched just inside the convenience store, with two other gunner teams to their left and right. The Lavenrunzians had been caught completely off guard, and were trying to return fire at foes they couldn't see. A sudden burst sliced across the front of the store and punched holes in the gasoline pumps outside. Killeson winced and ducked lower, swinging his gun towards the source of the fire and returning the favor. Another burst tore chunks out of the storefront, this one aimed lower, ripping up the floor tiles. Killeson threw himself flat, and could've sworn he felt the wind from some of the enemy bullets passing over him. Looking up again, he resumed firing... and the gun wouldn't shoot. The belt was moving slowly, not feeding anymore.

He looked left and gulped. Mason was laying across the belt, three large holes in her upper body and one in her head all dripping blood. For a moment Killeson was frozen, shocked. She was dead. Then his training took over. Clear the belt.

Grabbing his former comrade's shoulders, he heaved her off the ammo belt. Then he froze again, staring at his now red hands. He started shaking with fear. She was dead. He could be next! They were shooting at him! They wanted to kill him! He felt a flash of pure panic.

Then training took over again. He turned back to the gun, feeding the belt in himself with one hand and firing with the other. "I need a new feeder!" he yelled over his shoulder.

"Get down!" Someone yelled in response, and when Killeson looked forward again he saw an oblong white shape heading directly for the store. He threw himself as flat as he could once more, and hear the whoosh of the rocket passing over his head, followed by a thundering [i]boom. Then screams. So many screams. He looked up again just in time to see one of the other rebel soldiers leap over him, screaming and flailing at the flames covering his body.

Oh God... Killeson began to whimper softly. Then a hand slapped his shoulder.

"I'm Peters," a new face Killeson hadn't seen before introduced himself. "Get aiming, I'll feed your gun."

Killeson risked a glance over his shoulder. The back of the store was flaming now, he thought he could see burning bodies as well as wrecked display stands and charring wall.

"Don't worry about that!" Peters yelled in his ear. "We're okay! Worry about them!" He pointed at the Lavenrunzians. A squad was making a break for the front of the store.

Killeson nodded slowly, and squeezed the trigger again.

Erica said, "Maybe not luck." she listened to something in her earpiece. "Confirm. Alright, everyone, we've got to move it out of here, this place is going to be like a hornet's nest. Let's go!" she motioned fiercely, and said, "Bolan! Watch the Minister's son. Ein, your squad will cover him, we'll make sure we get out of here to the LZ!"

Loren

Lieutenant Offenbach found himself in command; the Captain was presumed dead, his vehicle pouring out flame and smoke; Lieutenant Gerhardt wounded and full of morphine. The Vogelhunds and KM-25s were pivoting their turrets and pounding the surrounding buildings with autocannon fire.
Sergeant Steiner roared, "Marines! Follow me!" as he rushed towards one of the buildings. Machinegun fire raked the pavement, he heard the slapping of bullets against bodies but several of his squad made it in. Immediately they were firing inside. Simultaneously, from the shelter of one of the vehicles, a grenade launcher thumped a round into the upper floor.
Offenbach could see that two of the buildings had a deadly triangulation of fire, now that he could make sense of the dust and smoke and wild movements. He seized upon an idea, seeing with grim fury another Vogelhund ripped open by an enemy rocket. He ordered another KM-25 to follow his example with another building--and he drove his own directly at the other. As he hung on for dear life while he heard the driver chanting encouragement to the vehicle and heard the gunner praying, the squad leaer in the back was gearing the troopers up. The KM-25, a squat, treaded, heavy APC, smashed through the front and for a moment they were just jarred and rocked terribly, dust and debris pouring down, but he had the presence of mind to have the driver lower the ramp.
The marines were probably more eager to get the hell out than to fight, he thought, suppressing a laugh he knew from experience would sound insane.

Cellblock 4

Ein checked his watch. Four more minutes till the radio blackout was lifted. "You heard the lady, let's move!"

The squad formed up around the former hostages and left the cellblock. Almost immediately Ein saw trouble, another pair of guards charging in from the direction they needed to go. Before he could fire though, four weapons chattered, and the ambushers dropped.

Dead ahead the hallway ended in a T junction. They were going right, but Ein could hear booted feet pounding from the left. He made a quick series of signals to Bolan, and the other man nodded as he drew a tear gas grenade off his belt. He pulled the pin and as they arrived at the intersection lobbed it down the left hallway. Ein saw figures ducking away just before the grenade went off with a hissing pop, and a cloud of gas obscured the hall. Coughing and swearing on the other side of the cloud said it was working. A couple bursts of blind fire came out of the cloud, but they were far off.

Ein glanced quickly at his watch. Two minutes to the end of the blackout. Straight ahead the hall turned left, and as they rounded the corner Ein saw the windows that looked out onto the exercise yard. Several new bodies were laying in this hallway, bearing mute testimony to the effectiveness of the team holding the LZ. Ein held up a closed fist for stop, then ran to one window and held up his right hand, palm up, in front of it. Then he peered outside, exchanged another set of signals with the guards, and nodded to the team. "Let's get out of here."

*************************************************************

16th and Highway 192

Killeson saw the enemy APCs crash into the buildings, and gulped, feeling very sorry for the people inside. He heard more gunfire and explosions, and rapidly realized that this was trouble.

Peters mutely kept feeding the belt into the rifle, and Killeson kept the trigger pulled. The machine gun continued to spit fire out at the Lavenrunzians, but he could see flashes of gunfire in some of the other buildings, and knew this wasn't going well. The flashes kept moving up the buildings.

*************************************************************

A C-130, cruising at 30,000 feet

"Time," Captain Hodges said quietly, her eyes fixed on a clock at her station. Immediately the jammers were shut off, communications restored. Now all that was left was for the airstrike to be called in.

*************************************************************

16th and Highway 192

Peters had a radio, and it suddenly squawked. Killeson took his eyes off the battle for a moment to look as his new feeder unfastened the radio and brought it to his lips. "Go ahead."

"All remaining rebel forces at 16th and 192 fall back!" Killeson thought he recognized one of the officers. "We've made our point, get out before any more soldiers are lost!"

"Roger," Peters replied, then looked at Killeson. "Pick up your gun, time to go."

At that moment something occurred to Killeson. "Go where? How do we get out?" He looked back at the burning store, then forward at the Lavenrunzians in the street. How DO we get out?

"Back way," Peters said shortly, pulling himself into a squat and shoving the ammo box with the rest of the bullets to Killeson. "Stay low." Killeson pulled himself into a similiar crouch, picking up gun and ammo. It was then that he noticed that the fire teams on both sides of him were not moving, and spreading red puddles said they wouldn't move on their own again.

"What about...?" he indicated the dead soldiers' guns.

"Leave them," Peters replied curtly. "If we're lucky, rebel teams can come by later and retrieve whatever the government doesn't collect." He started moving.

Killeson crouch-walked behind Peters further into the store. He could now really feel the heat from the blaze, and noted uncomfortably that the fire was spreading fast. Peters skirted the edge of the blaze and suddenly stood straight, running for a door marked "Employees Only" in the back corner. Flames were licking at the frame, but Peters didn't hesitate, just threw his shoulder into the door. It burst open and Killeson followed him through. Another door, and another, and they emerged in a back alley. It was grimy and didn't smell very nice, probably because of the dumpster to their left.

"Alright kid, stick with me. We whupped those guys good, I doubt they'll give chase," Peters told him. "We'll stick to the alleys and get back to one of our posts." With no other choice, Killeson just followed.

*************************************************************

As quickly as it had come, the attack was over. The Lavenrunzians found themselves bereft of targets as rebel soldiers abandoned their positions and retreated. The rebels carried off their wounded and all the weapons they could, and left their dead and the guns they couldn't carry. A few teams put up token resistance long enough to cover the retreat, then the force disappeared out of back doors and side exits, vanishing into alleyways and streets, leaving the Lavenrunzians to pick themselves up and figure out what had happened.

Bird Two was still circling overhead, its gatling guns and rocket pods almost out of ammo, but providing covering fire as well as a distraction. Captain Metzger, inside, was aware, sweating but still calm as he spoke into his headset, that they were taking bad hits from below.
Erica moved into the yard, motioning for her team to cover Ein's run to the birds. Bullets skipped across the pavement, ricocheting and playing merry hell. The Jaegers gave it back with grim determination.
"Get aboard!" she yelled at Ein.

Loren

The buildings around the recon battalion were broken and burning when Hackelgruber arrived. His face was like stone. Ignoring the still fresh smell of cordite, he stood tall in the hatch, his mouth a thin hard line. The Valkyrs had arrived--too late, but were hovering menacingly overhead, ready to pick off anyone who so much as peeped out a window. Farther above, the Fledermauss scanned for movements on the streets that were not their own.
Hackelgruber climbed down from his command vehicle and walked through the dust and debris to Offenbach, who was talking to a couple of NCOs and officers.
"Lieutenant, just so that it is clear: any areas not actually held by loyalists are to be considered potentially hostile." Hackelgruber growled. "From now on I want the infantry outside the vehicles when we move. It may slow us down, but I don't want to walk into a damned ambush in supposedly friendly territory again."
"Yes, my Colonel." said Offenbach. He felt a little ill, sure he was going to be on the carpet.
"At any rate, my boy, you did well considering. So for now you're in command of B Company. We're going to sweep through this area for those bastards and get us some back. We're going to murder them by the bushel. Is that understood?"
"Yes, my Colonel!"

Degrass Base

Ein nodded. "Get the hostages onboard!" he barked to his soldiers. They were quickly hustled onto the transport, while Ein's squad joined in the cover fire. While he was shooting, he checked his watch. Time.

Stepping back towards the chopper, he lifted his radio to his lips. "Cover craft, this is Sargos. We are about to dust off, sweep the walks for us."

*************************************************************

The skies over Degrass

"Roger," Longbow One's pilot answered. He relayed the message to his gunner, then swung his craft around towards the prison. He'd been playing tag with some defenders around the command center while the other Longbow was shooting at people by the barracks. Now they formed up together and flew right at the exercise yard.

There were two doors that provided access to the roof of the prison, and soldiers were now pouring out of them to shoot down into the yard at the rescue team. "We got left, you take right," One's pilot informed his counterpart in the other chopper, then dove for the left door.

The gunner fired two rockets, his last two, at the door hut on the roof. They were right on the money and the place went up spectacularly. Several of the soldiers on the roof flinched and looked back, then looked up. Then they started dropping as the helicopter's chin-mounted chaingun spoke.

From near the yard, a smoking white streak shot up at them. The pilot banked hard to the right, and the aircraft's countermeasures did the rest. The missile's seeker couldn't find it's original target, and as it sailed past, the helicopter dropped a flare. This was much preferably to trying to find the chopper which was all but invisible to the missile, so it chased the flare and blew itself up harmlessly.

"Jesus," One's pilot muttered. "Where's the missileer?"

"Already got him," the gunner sounded just as shaken, but he had found the man, kneeling near the edge of the roof, sighting for another shot. Bank towards the exercise yard." As the pilot complied, the Longbow's gun swung into position and drew a line of small bursts in the roof that walked straight to the missileer and up his body. He started to stand just as the bullets hit him, aand the force of the rounds hurled him clear off the roof.

"Alright, you're as clear as you're going to get," One spoke to the ground forces. "Lift off."

*************************************************************

Exercise Yard

"Copy," Ein replied. He and one other Guard were the only people still on the ground. Both transports were ready to take off. "Let's go!"

They leaped in as the rotors spun up to full speed. A moment later, the chopper lurched and began its ascent. Ein threw the door shut as the vehicle gained altitude and turned around to look at his team and the people they'd saved.

The former prisoners were sitting near the back of the vehicle, being looked over by a medic. The other medic on the team was putting a bandage on one of the Guards' shoulders. Ein approached him.

"It's okay sir," the wounded man told his Captain before Ein could ask. "Bastard just winged me. Bleeds like hell but nothing's broken." Then he winced a little as the medic tightened the bandage.

"Good," Ein replied. He looked around the chopper. All eight prisoners out. His whole team out. One wounded on his team. They'd done their job, and done it well.

He couldn't help grinning. "Hell of a job, people. Well done."

*************************************************************

Degrass Base

Stanzer was in his office, waiting. The explosions and gunfire had moved away, and it sounded like the choppers were leaving. Good. Then the radio on his desk crackled, and a voice came over.

"Colonel? Colonel?"

Stanzer snatched up the radio. "I'm here."

"Colonel, our communications have been restored," the radioman told him unnecessarily.

"Put out a distress signal to our forces, tell them what happened. Do you have a report on our losses?"

"Still getting it together sir," the radioman answered after conferring with his superior. "They got the prisoners though. All eight evacuated with the strike team."

Stanzer had guessed right about the target of the attack. For some reason, that didn't make him feel better. "Understood, nothing anyone could've done. They were fast. Get me that casualty report."

"Yes sir." The radioman clicked off.

*************************************************************

Post 6

Colonel Masters met Hackelgruber when he returned. The area was a mess, with soldiers running everywhere, burning vehicles being hosed down with fire extinguishers, wounded soldiers being carried to the white medical tent, and healthy soldiers and functional vehicles forming up into units and heading out.

"Bad?" Masters asked, then saw Hackelgruber's face and nodded. "If you brought any wounded back send them to the medical tent and come with me. We've received confirmation that the rescue was successful, but that's about the only good news. Tend to your people and I'll give you a full briefing in the command tent. Thank God the bastards didn't hit that."

Near the outskirts of Loren

He watched them, his lovely drones. Granted, he had only a few, but still...

There were the flying reconnaissance drones, looking like birds, searching for enemy positions, warning him. And apparently, he hadn`t been detected yet. Well, this would change soon.

Fools.

He grinned, his major drones, the four light tanks walking along the street, covered by about sixteen infantry drones... Granted, they were not as efficient as a real soldier, but when working in groups, connected to each other, they were a considerable force. Then there was the self propelled artillery, missile launchers...

And of course, there were also the tactical drones... Dog, or rather, cheetah- like Hunter//Seeker units, their bodies hot, heated by the radioactive isotopes in their inside, being their energy source... A couple of other, smaller types. Explosive charges, programmed to search for enemy positions and to blow them up being one of them.

They could hardly wait.

Automatisation in perfection.

Well, at least this was what the producer claimed, however, he knew from experience that said perfection wasn´t exactly perfect.

We will see.

Suddenly, he saw nothing, his vision, or rather, the imagination of a vision (Since he didn`t 'see' the whole thing, he got the data transmitted directly into his brain) flared with a bright light...

Goddamn artillery.

He watched the remains of one infantry drone, also noticed that another one had been damaged.

With a sigh, he continued.

And finally, already able to notice the noise of the battle, the smell, the screams of the wounded, of soldiers losing their friends in battle, his drones arrived.

Satellite Uplink, tactical data.

Cover with data coming from reconnaissance drones.

There they were...

Quickly, he gave the orders to the drones...

And a moment later, he let them lose, cutting his control over them to a minimum, letting them do what they were meant to do.

With that, they were unleashed upon the loyalist forces.

Volcano Island

The airport was fairly busy, to say the least. A couple very large, very heavy looking planes were standing there, waiting, with... equipment being loaded into them.

Others were obviously fighters, finally, there were a few VTOLs, gunships, to be correct.

Two men, both wearing entirely black clothing, were standing next to the planes.

"Ok... So far, all is cleared?"
"Yes. Equipment is there... Although it isn`t all cutting edge stuff."
"Meh." The other one shrugged. "Happens if you´re working with a secondary corporation."
"True. But then... It is insane, isn´t it? I mean..."
The other one chuckled. "You mean flying into a heavily defended area, trying to sneak over the heads of the Lavenrunzian Navy, and abducting a couple hundred psychics?"
"Yeah."
"Quite."

For a moment, both were silent, then they laughed. "Well... it will work out. Somehow."
"I hope so." The other one was still giggling. "Well... Oh, f*ck, that is the wrong calibre... Stupid drones."

He walked away, cursing, to correct the mistake.

Soon, they would start.

And it would be hell.

Volcano Island, Elsewhere

Establishing contact... Contact established.

Login... Login successful.

Welcome. The Gamma- Satellite hive is at your service

Very good.

She smiled. Her previous occupation had been... satisfying, but she wanted more.

Much more.

There you are... How is it going, my little firends?

We live to serve you. We love to serve you. We`re excited. What do you need to be done?

She chuckled, smiling. She liked them, her little minions... The hive in orbit. They were like pets... Like her cat. And mentally, she stroked them, just like she stroked her cat, every morning, when it jumped on her bed, waking her up, her paws playing with her nose.

Focus on Glorious Humanity. There are brothers and sisters. Our kin, fighting against normals.

They also fight each other.

This is... foolish.

Again, she chuckled. Yes. Yes it is, and we will have to help them. Help them to realise who their true enemies are. Who their true friends are.

We understand.

Good. In her mind, she stroked them, carefully, with all the love she was capable of. And she could feel their answer, their reaction, could feel their minds touching hers... Carefully, lovingly, like children searching for the warmth of their mother. Searching for protection and love.

And she gave this things to them, gladly. They were her children. I need you to interfere with the GH communications. Their satellites... Don`t destroy them, just jam them.

We will do as you ask.

And then... There are this ones... children of our kind, telepaths, psychics... They don´t see the truth, they fight their own kind, rather than fighting the common enemy. We must remove them from the homo inferior who oppress them, to tell them the truth. Can you find them?

Alone? No. With the help of The Eye, perhaps.

I believe in you. She stroked them one more time, her mind almost merging with them, in love, in beauty, in perfect symmetry, in utter chaos.

Show me what you can.

General Dietrich, in his command vehicle, which was the size of a large RV, stood and went to a screen, which lit up, displaying
a map of Loren.
Members of his staff and the Admiral's were in the vehicle with him. The Admiral was sniffing a flower thoughtfully.
"Excellency, Loren is going to be a difficult city to re-establish control over. Clearly, they are well prepared, and are acting as professionals,
not as some rabble."
Before he could speak further, Admiral de Goethe, who did not want to embarass him, said, "That is precisely the point, General. Which is why I do not
intend to concentrate on re-taking the city, which is really irrelevant of course. The real aim is to defeat the rebels and aid the Government in reestablishing
control over the entire nation of Glorious Humanity. General, if they are here, they must have sources of supplies and communications. Without those, they cannot
effectively wage war--not for long at any rate. Thus, our aim will in fact be to isolate them and control the greater area around. For now, we must concentrate on controlling
all roads, rails, and the air, and also to cut off any underground movements in and out of the city. General, I want you to begin preparing the division immediately to do this."
"Yes, your Excellency."
The Admiral rose and said, "Friends, we must not be disheartened. The enemy has shown their hand--and it is my intention to lop it off at the wrist."
However, as she left it occured to her that perhaps her counterpart, Admiral Barnes, had not fully expressed what he knew by sheer personal experience--that his people were tenacious
and shrewd, and would attempt to create a situation where it would be a contest of wills. She had no intention of getting into a contest of wills with people led by psychics.
In a secured communique to Barnes, she wrote:

Admiral Barnes

It is my intention to direct the 1st Imperial Marine Division to establish zones of control on all entry points, communications, air and subterranean space in and around Loren.
This must be done in such a fashion as to render their efforts at expanding their rebellion outward worthless.
I urge you to accept this plan, which has worked before in Knootoss and Der Angst against rebel forces there.

most amiably
Admiral de Goethe

Following that, she sighed and sent a report to the Chief of the Imperial Naval Staff, Admiral Engelhardt. Included in this was a request for a
carrier group to assist her efforts.

As she was doing this, recon flights of helicopters were moving over Loren, searching for any unreported activity.

1313 Zulu
Drakonian Diplomatic Corps. Heaquarters
Drako Throne, Drakonian Imperium
Director's Office

Diana's day continued to be busy, as it had for a couple of days. Too many, she decided. Her desk was a mess, because of it. Stacks of papers were strewn around, several empty styrofoam coffee cups were arrayed in disarray, yet somehow she managed to find the response from Glorious Humanity.

She had just talked with General Derek Long, commander of the entire Imperial Drakonian Armed Forces, a man she found a bit annoying at times. His response to Peirce's acceptance of support was, "Of course, I'm sending them. That entire town [Plain's Bluff] is swarming with soldiers, most of them doing nothing. They should be earning their paycheck and not sitting on their asses." Diana was glad he was not a diplomat, especially after she had worked with him at the Nekoa Bay Negotiations.

She felt a shudder as she finally located a Computer Tablet and scribbled her reply on it. Her desktop computer was nowhere to be found in all the mess on her desk.

Mr. Peirce,

The Battalion is being dispatched. I am told the commander is an excellent veteran soldier and his command should be invaluable help in your effort for peace.

On the note of the missile support, it appears that there were several attempted communiques, but there was no response. So we acted. We understand the breach of protocal, but it seemed the necessary thing to do.

The Imperium sends it's support. Humanitarian workers and aid will also we transported down as soon as it can be organized. As much of the population in Loren has been displaced by the military effort and to help bring to order the chaos that was caused in your capital. Use them and it as required.

I also must offer my personal support on the kidnapping of your son. I assure you, everyone here hopes for his safe return. The Royal Couple were they able would also be offer theirs. It is a terrible thing to lose one's child and we all hope it is only temporary.

My best hope and our best support.

Diana Minerva, Director of the Drakonian Diplomatic Corps.

1342 Zulu
South of Plain's Bluff
Drakonian/Glorious Humanity Border, Nusquam Esse
3rd Auxiliary Legion, 1st Battalion

Major Marcus Titius was a military man, a veteran, and not what one who call a pretty boy. At least not now, not after his service in Raem. He had served in both Raem and Al Anbar, which had brought him much knowledge in war and was why he'd transferred to the 3rd Auxiliary.

Much good it had done him. The entire legion had been called up just before the bio-terror attack in Plain's Bluff. A good portion of the 3rd Auxiliary was there now, securing and cleaning up. Marcus' command had been there. He hated containment work.

But, now he was going into something he hated worse. For a second, Marcus considered a career change. No. Hate it much as he did, he was good at what he did. Now it was time to do it again.

And hey, after living through Raem, there was nothing that could be worse. Nothing.

"Confirmation, Sir." The young officer handed his commander a Computer Tablet as the Major rested in his Infantry Fighting Vehicle (IFV).

"Let's move out then." Marcus didn't even look at the tablet. He just pulled himself straight and jestured to his driver to drive forward.

They were going to Glorious Humanity, to lend a helping hand.

1321 Zulu
Off the East Coast of Glorious Humanity
Central West Atlantic, International Waters
IDS Foresight

http://67.18.37.14/118/74/upload/p126.jpg

They had been dispatch to ensure the rebels recieved no foriegn support. There had been rumors of symphany fealt by many for the Psychics and it was worried a foriegn power might try to support the rebellion. Elements of the Drakonian fleet that would have normally been deployed on deep sea patrols had been launched from Alexandria and sent southwest to support the Lavenrunzian fleet along the southeastern and eastern coast of Glorious Humanity.

The advanced Surveillance Destroyer Foresight was the most valuable ship in this effort. Equipped with the latest and greatest in detection equipment, including an incredibly long-range radar dome that was also incredibly large. Sonar, Satellite Uplinks, and a variety of other detection and electronic warfare completed the ships expensive and powerful array of equipment.

The ships crew joked that the ship could find a duck in the middle of the storming sea, something that had yet to be disproven. In fact, during the recent tropical storm the Foresight had helped locate and rescue a small fishing boat that had been blown into the Atlantic.

Now that ship and it's equipment along with several other Drakonian surface and sub-surface warships were watching seas waiting to see if anyone was trying to supply and/or support the rebels.

So far it had been quite, but things generally did not remain that way.

1321 Zulu
Off the East Coast of Glorious Humanity
Central West Atlantic, International Waters
IDS Foresight

http://67.18.37.14/118/74/upload/p126.jpg

They had been dispatch to ensure the rebels recieved no foriegn support. There had been rumors of symphany fealt by many for the Psychics and it was worried a foriegn power might try to support the rebellion. Elements of the Drakonian fleet that would have normally been deployed on deep sea patrols had been launched from Alexandria and sent southwest to support the Lavenrunzian fleet along the southeastern and eastern coast of Glorious Humanity.

The advanced Surveillance Destroyer Foresight was the most valuable ship in this effort. Equipped with the latest and greatest in detection equipment, including an incredibly long-range radar dome that was also incredibly large. Sonar, Satellite Uplinks, and a variety of other detection and electronic warfare completed the ships expensive and powerful array of equipment.

The ships crew joked that the ship could find a duck in the middle of the storming sea, something that had yet to be disproven. In fact, during the recent tropical storm the Foresight had helped locate and rescue a small fishing boat that had been blown into the Atlantic.

Now that ship and it's equipment along with several other Drakonian surface and sub-surface warships were watching seas waiting to see if anyone was trying to supply and/or support the rebels.

So far it had been quite, but things generally did not remain that way.

1345 Zulu
South of the Border
Glorious Humanity, Nusquam Esse
3rd Auxiliary Legion, 1st Battalion

The passenger (shotgun) side of Major Marcus Titius' IFV was cluttered. Several Computer Tablet's and a handheld radio lay at the Major's feet and there was a laptop was across his lap. He wore a Communication's Headset and was working furiously. The back seat of the command IFV was the same. Where two officers worked to help coordinate the 1st Battalions movements. One juggled a portable long-range commication pack, a satellite-connected laptop, and a handheld radio, while the other was working furiously on several Computer Tablets and a PDA.

Meanwhile back in the front, as the IFV and the entire Battalion around it moved, the Major was breifing them on their mission. "Our mission is to quell rebel forces in Loren. This will be accomplished by coordinating with Loyalist Forces and the Lavenrunzians to secure the city systematicly. Sector securing will be carried out at the Cohort level, with Centuries overseeing suburb control. Brush up on your Urban Warfare Tactics people, we're going to town."

The Major switched off the microphone on the Communication's Headset. "What's the analysis of satellite intelligence," he called over his shoulder.

"We've got some odd units, appear to be combat units, outside Loren. No IFF, possible hostiles. Rebel movements inside the city are impossible to determine, although we do know that there was a serious attack in Sector and another at the International Airport." The report came from the back. "Should be getting the latest data in the next few minutes."

The Major saw the problem right away. "We need to know more. Ask Command and see if they can get us more detailed information. Also check in with the Loyalist Forces and the Lavenrunzians. See what they can tell us."

"Sir," the other officer spoke up, stick his head up from the communication's gear around him. "We have something on that, Lavenrunzians are preparing to redeploy and try to cut the supply lines. As well, a joint effort just rescued the hostages."

"Should be helpful, but we still need specifics," the Major replied digging around at his feet for his PDA and cell. "I'll call Command."

"Checking in," came the reply.

The Battalion rushed on, moving quickly for the city of Loren. Meanwhile, aircraft were prepared for launch from Cherokee Air Force Base. Off the coast, Drakonian ships patrolled watching for enemy reinforcements. The Imperium was going to war in support of an ally, in support of a friend.

Captain Bulcke nodded thanks as a nurse blotted sweat from his brow...he snapped, "I need better light, damn it..." as he peered into the deep wound in the young
marine's thigh. The 30th Field Hospital had suddenly had dozens of wounded on their hands, and they had simply grabbed the first available buildings and set up there. He was barely aware of what
it was, save that it had rooms and tables that could be used for operating theatres. As the bandage came off the blood began to spurt, and the marine gasped, orderlies struggling with him...
cursing, Bulcke had an assistant hold the wound open and barked, "Clamp! Hurry!" and as the scissor like instrument was given to him, he snapped it over the vein...probing the wound for the bullet,
sewing up the wound again left his arms shakey and weak. Someone--it was Sergeant Biedermann--thrust a mug of water to him, which he drank. It was like a divine nectar...and he took a breath.
"Next." he said.

Volcano Island

The planes started, one by one, glistening in the sun... Well, they would be glistening, weren´t it for the rather dark clouds.

Soon, it would rain.

Gandhi stood outside, watching the planes depart. They would be guided by the eye... In the case that the hive wouldn´t be able to find the psychics, they would carry enough stuff to search for them by themselves, although he did hope that this wouldn`t be necessary.

Take them... Race traitors... And punish those who corrupted them. Leave no one alive.

He could hardly wait.

Glorious Humanity, Eastern Coast

They had finsihed their work. Finally. Granted, they were only 48 men and women, but with lots of, to quote their commander, 'Shiny stuff'.

Now, they had to use it.

Theoretically, their position was a bad one, being far away from the action. However, in this particular case, it, wasn`t.

Badly outnumbered, as they were, they wouldn´t stand a chance against a concentrated attack. But here, covered in the jungle, divided into small groups, thusly sort of protected from concentrated airraids, they could... act.

Yet, they weren´t in a position to fight... They were... liaisons.

At Volcano Island, more planes prepared, mostly transporters, although a couple fighter drones could be seen.

Soon, they would start, too.

---

The current conflict in Glorious Humanity has raised humanitarian issues.

Civilians are endangered, the lack of food and water, of clothing, of basic needs is obvious.

We`re willing to help. We will help, for we have what they need.

We will begin transports into the most endangered areas as soon as possible, and hope that the different parties in the conflict will guarantee for the safety of the transports, in the interest of all.

In the interest of humanity.

1651 Zulu
Off the East Coast of Glorious Humanity
Central West Atlantic, International Waters
IDS Foresight

The most advanced aquatic-based sensor array continued it's patrol carefully looking for anything unusual. That was exactly what Sensor Officer Jones and Seaman Logan were doing at the moment.

"Why are we searching so thoroughly, anyway," Seaman Logan whined.

"Because Command is sure the rebels couldn't have accomplished so much without outside help," Jones replied. "And because they don't want the rebels getting any more assistance."

A grunt of acknowledgement was cut off. "I've got multiple contacts, bearing two-seven-zero, high altitude." The seaman twisted around in his chair. "Mark, you want to give me Sat. Conn?"

"Roger," came the affirmative.

"Coordinating with Sat. Conn," the seaman affirmed, only to finish in a swear. "Damn, these things are hard to track. Probably stealth of some sort."

Sensor Officer Jones appeared hovering over the seaman's shoulder, just as the Captain arrived. "What have you got," Captain Antonio Mars ask.

The Sensor Officer responded first as the seaman worked furiously. "Multiple Unidentified Contacts, High Altitude, heading for the Glorious Humanity coast."

"Civilian," the Captain asked.

"Unlikely, sir." The Sensor Officer looking carefully at one of the displays in front of the seaman. "They have some sort of stealth like equipment making them very hard to track."

Captain Mars didn't even have to take time to consider his options, he knew exactly what to do. "Communication's, flash message to Fleet Command. Inform them of our situation and have the Dragon launch birds for a possible intercept; high altitude."

"Yes, Sir," came the Officer's reply from across the room as he carried out the order.

"Then raise those flyers up there and find out what the hell they are doing," the Captain finished his order.

In seconds, the Communication's Officer was calling the unidentified aircraft. "Unidentified aircraft, unidentified aircraft, this is the Imperial Drakonian Naval Vessel Foresight. Your are ordered to identify yourself or return home. Repeat, unidentified aircraft, this is the IDS Foresight. Your are entering a warzone, either identify yourself, leave, or risk being fired upon."

And then they waited.

OOC: Time passed, blatant assumptions made. Complain to me if there is a problem. I'll be happy to change my posts.

1707 Zulu
Enroute to Loren
Glorious Humanity, Nusquam Esse
3rd Auxiliary Legion, 1st Battalion

The 1st Battalion moved with surprising speed. Miles were covered in hours and while there was still much time until their arrival, it would be soon. In his IFV, Major Marcus Titius continued to prepare for what was coming.

"What our ETA," the Major asked as the IFV drove on with the battalion.

"Approximating estimated time of arrive, in just under two hours, sir," someone replied. "Should reach the outskirts, then."

"Good." The Major did seem satisfied. "Here is the plan. 1st Cohort will disengage and move off to meet the unidentified rebel support outside the city. A century will then engage the enemy forces, testing their strength and then disengaging. 2nd Cohort will move in for back-up, while the 1st prepares to deal with the threat. Meanwhile, Cohorts 3 thru 10 will move coordinate with allied forces and secure the city sector by sector."

There were acknowledgements from the other men in the Command IFV. "Relay those orders to all Cohorts and then to allied forces in Loren." Further affirmations were made as the vehicle moved on with the convoy.

They were headed toward war and they knew it. It was their time to serve their nation, their Praetor, their honor, and most importantly their people.

[OOC: Co-written by myself and Lavenrunz]

2000 hours (10 PM)
Loren, Glorious Humanity
Behind government lines

As the day wound down, many of the units that had been active all day began seeking beds. A sea of tents was set up outside the city, while several forward units and special forces troops appropriated some buildings to bunk down closer to the action in case they were needed. Periodically bursts of gunfire and explosions sounded through the city as the night shifts of both armies continued to skirmish with each other, but the battling had died down significantly. It was the eye of the storm, come morning it was likely the fighting would resume in full fury.

The joint special forces unit had bunked down in a base in Section Four, segregated till they could be fully debriefed. They were exhausted, most of them, and were, apart from sentries, sleeping soundly. In spite of the sentries though, a shadowy figure crept across the ground, moving as quiet as a cat from cover to cover till it reached the door of the bachelor officer's quarters where the Angels' officers lay sleeping.

The barracks were a set of dormitory buildings for Loren Community College, vacated by the students after the battle began and subsequently appropriated by the military. As far as quarters went, they weren't too bad. The soldiers were being placed two or three to a room, folding cots being brought in in rooms that didn't have enough beds.

Inside one such room, which he shared with Bolan, Ein was tossing and turning in his bed, trying to get to sleep. He looked enviously at his friend, sleeping in a bunk across the room as soundly as a baby. One could probably have set off a grenade and he wouldn't have heard it. Ein though, was too keyed up, replaying the mission again and again in his mind, trying to spot any flaws or mistakes his team had made. Despite the team's four star performance, it was hard not to wonder if the two injuries could've been avoided.

Ein finally decided he wasn't going to sleep, and traded tossing and turning for staring at the ceiling. He'd run the mission through five times in his mind, and decided the injuries couldn't have been avoided. Thus his thoughts were left to wander, and unsurprisingly they wandered to her.

Since he'd first seen her again Erica hadn't been far from his mind. Amazing how she always came to the front when there was nothing else to think about. Sometimes where there were other things to think about. This couldn't be good, he thought. His focus was affected, and he wondered what might happen if they were paired again on another mission.

Erica was suddenly standing above him, holding a finger to her lips...she appeared like a dream, but he could faintly smell powder and a faint tang of healthy sweat--they'd had no chance to shower--and she gently sat on the bed beside him, her eyes shining in the dark, her hands brushing across his body to touch his, her half scene form strength and subtle roundness all at once

Ein jumped when she appeared, blinking several times to make sure he wasn't seeing things. A half dozen questions jumped into his mind, but none of them made it to his mouth. He could only stare in surprise, but as she started caressing him his arms went around her, hands exploring, touching her all over, confirming to his brain that she was really there. Not a word was spoken. Not a word needed to be. Eyes said more than mouthes could right now.

She had wondered if she was crazy, doing this...but the several times near death, the shock to her system of her feelings at seeing him again had boiled up in her, and now she was feverish, only aware of putting his fingers in her mouth as she moved to lie down with him. The fever disturbed more than her mind, it set her flesh aflame, disturbed her clothing from her body as she tried to stifle words and cries.

He didn't know who moved on who first, only that less than a minute later they were tucked under the blankets, and down to their undergarments. He kissed her once, twice, their lips brushing then coming together forcefully, passionately. Then he felt bare flesh, not covered by anything. His earlier sleep problems were forgotten, lost, buried under something new. He didn't want to sleep now. He didn't want to think about teams, or missions, or how the two of them would work if they were sent together again. Right at that moment she wasn't a soldier. She was a woman.

And he wanted her.

*************************************************************

She felt as though warm oil was pooling over her, and that shards of ice were mingled with it, the feeling seeming to go on for ever, feeling so wonderfully held, filled with warmth that seemed endless. She almost doubted reality as she came slowly to her senses, and touched his face gently, lying in his arms.

He ran a hand through her hair, staring into her eyes. He felt like he should say something, but there was nothing to say that their eyes and their hearts, beating fast and in unison, could not make plain. Then he kissed her again, and nothing was said for the rest of the night.

[ooc: I`m assuming that the two Drakonian posts meant me, for no reason in particular... Though I`m sure that your operators noticed something coming in at low altitude ;) And... stealth... well, they tend to use active defences (jamming & stuff), no passive stealth. With Loren, I assume you`re approaching the operators, not the drones in the city, since you said outside of Loren]

Somewhere between Glorious Humanity and Volcano Island

Any news from the hive?

Nope. Looks like they will need some time. Though i´m sure Adèle does her best.

Damnit... wait... You got that?

Yes.

There were sixteen planes. Four were fighters for protection. Four more were gunships, to make sure that they would have some aircover. Finally, there were eight transporters.

Of course, they knew that the space they had was hardly enough to get all the psychics in... It didn´t matter. Any excess could be dealt with by using... other means.

Flying close to the sound barrier, they were already closing in when their sensors told them that someone was registering them.

It was about damn time.

You think? A bit early, if you ask me.

Feh. It isn`t really relevant... Oh, they`re calling us.

You know, it would have been nice if soldats had given us this optic stealth thingies...

You know how they are. 'They are too good to be used in battle'.

Yeah... wait, I reply.

Keeping their direction, the reply came, soon. They didn´t overly care about stealthyness, Gandhi wasn´t the type of commander liking sneakiness, anyway. And... Well, they did have

... a lot of nasty surprises.

We use stuff to diffuse their sensors, we have a fighter escort... What need to disguise ourselves? He thought, and answered appropriately:

"Imperial Drakonian Naval Vessel Foresight, this is the unidentified aircraft. We`re thankful for you caring about us, but we prefer to stay unidentified, since we`re coming to blow up some shit. Have a nice day."

Now, their reaction will be... interesting.

No shit.

Volcano Island

"Adèle? Adèle, you´re here?"

Someone had entered the room.

"Uncle Ikari? Yes, I`m currently busy..."

"I know... Just remember, dinner is ready."

"Yeah, I will come as soon as possible."

The man, Ikari, smiled. "Good girl. Have fun while... playing."

Adèle smiled, her eyes closed. "I will."

And while Ikari left, she received more information...

Drakonian Imperium, eh?

Quickly, she linked in. She planes would have to care for themselves, but she didn´t have any doubts that they could do that. The problems would begin if the coastal defences would start working...

Initialise Electronic Warfare Protocol 437//25...

Target: Glorious Humanity. Prevention of any communications between military reconnaissance/ surveillance and coastal defence (Combat) forces for 90 minutes.

Feasibility: Medium.

Execution: Now.

She leaned back, her eyes still closed, the smile still on her face, her hands lying loosely on her cables close to her.

Now back to you, my dear Gamma Hive...

Glorious Humanity, close to Loren

Night. Frank enjoyed it, laying in the grass, watching the dark sky. Four of them had left, to join the drones in the city. For close combat, it was better to have some teeps with them, for support against smaller assaults on close range. And the losses they had suffered today, though not desastrous (And considering the results they had achived, certainly acceptable) were more than enough proof of their vulnerability.

And we will need to take care of it before survivors spread the word.

It was the truth.

Four more were currently operating the drones. Though maintenance took its time, they were still fast... faster than a human needed for 'maintenance', alo known as 'sleep'.

And the night was a wonderful time for quiet operations, sneaky infiltrations...

Frank grinned. They will have fun.

It was the last thought of his life, he didn´t even notice the knife cutting through his reinformed skull, entering it, cutting through his brain, cutting through various artificial connections, nanotube- reinforced neural links...

He just stopped breathing, still grinning.

"Bitch. Well, that's what you earn for being the f*cking asshole you are." Hiroshi grinned, grinned just like the corpse in front of him. "Now for the more important things..."

With that, he begun waking up the others, barely taking the time of hiding the corpse, not really caring about it. He didn´t talk to them, telepathic communication, though more strenuous, was simply safer.

Check your Satellite Uplinks. Someone is coming. Hostiles. According to the sources we have, most likely Drakonians. Not Lavenrunzians, significant differences in their formations and eqipment, though I wont deny the possibility of simple loyalist forces.

Ok... Checked. yeah. And?

Can`t leave here. Well, actually, we can, but I don´t want the drones on automatics.

So... an ambush?

Yes. No iea if they have real- time covverage of the battlefield like we do, but just in case...

Make it look like we don´t expect anything. Check. Btw, where`s Frank?

Sent him to do reconnaissance on them.

Ah, ok.

The men prepared, moving slowly, making sure that it looked as if they were just waiting... for the next day.

However, they weren´t. Though the price they had to pay was the game they had played in Loren... The drones retreated, and stopped their actions, only caring for their own defence, just in case, now without an actual operator acting.

2003 Zulu
Off the East Coast of Glorious Humanity
Central West Atlantic, International Waters
IDS Foresight

"Eureka!" Seaman Logan shouted the one thing no one expected, causing both Sensor Officer Jones and the Captain. "I've got it!"

"Seaman?" The Sensor Officer was the first to arrive at his shoulder.

"I got a clear reading on the unidentified aircraft." There was a short pause in which the Captain arrived at the Seaman's station. "Sir," Logan added promptly.

He then quickly explained. "They're playing havoc on our systems, but I think I've compensated for it."

"And," the Captain prompted.

"They're using some pretty sophisticated jamming equipment to flood our system. Threw everything off, but we've got them now." Seaman was pretty proud of himself. "Sixteen confirmed contacts. At least four are fighters; others appear to transports and probably some kind of gunship. And they're coming in low and fast, sir."

"Relay data to the Task Force," the Captain ordered.

"Already done," was the reply, but it was interrupted by the voice of the Communication's Officer.

"Sir, you're going to want to hear this." The man was across the bridge, but the Captain quickly covered the distance.

The reply from the unidentified aircraft was not as expected.

"Relay it to the Commodore, but I think that's it." The Captain seemed resigned. "They are apparently hostile. Rules of Engagement are clear. Give them their final warning and signal the Dragon to order the intercept. We have hostile contact."

The Communication's Officer went immediately to work. "Unidentified Aircraft, unidentified aircraft, this is Imperial Drakonian Naval Vessel Foresight. If you proceed you will be fired upon. This is your final warning, divert or be destroyed. Over."

The Officer's subordinate confirmed the message to the super carrier Dragon. The second group of interceptors were lifting off, immediately.

2007 Zulu
Off the East Coast of Glorious Humanity
Central West Atlantic, International Waters
Flights 1 & 2, Starfall Squadron

Flight Leader Rufus keyed up his communication's equipment just as the latest message from the carrier arrived. "Starfall Squadron, this is Dragon. Unidentifieds have been designated "Hostile". Repeat, Unidentifieds have been designated "Hostile". Latest information is uploading. Looks like their ground-crawlers, so you are to reconfigure and launch LRMs, then disengage. Repeat, launch LRMs and then disengage. Over."

"Confirmed, Dragon," the squadron commander replied. "Go code?"

The response was as expected. "Calypso Angel Tango Echo Romeo. Repeat, Calypso Angel Tango Echo Romeo. Over."

"Confirmed again, Dragon." Rufus armed his weapons' systems. "We'll be catering to them alright. Weapons hot."

He switched to his squadron's communication channel. "Okay, boys and girls. We've got ground-crawlers moving up fast. Our orders our to unleash the Bolts and head home. So weapons hot, people. We've got land lubbers to burn."

The Flight Leader, a Captain, was flying in a Skyfury High Altitude Fighter-Bomber attempt at long-range air-to-air battles. The Bolts, Captain Rufus referred to were Long-Range Missiles (LRMs), of which each of the six Skyfuries carried four (as well as two short-range missiles). He and the five other members of his squadron (half of the total squadron) were flying at a high altitude as their missiles came into range of the unidentified aircrafts, hugging the ground at a low altitude.

"Okay, light'em up," the Captain ordered. He armed and then fired two of his Bolt Long-Range Missiles. "Starfall One, Fury Two." The first two missiles streaked away slowly dropping and blasting away from the aircraft.

They were joined by another pair. "Starfall Two, Fury Two."

And another. "Starfall Four, Fury Two."

And another, until all six Fighter-Bombers had fired the first pair of their payloads of Long-Range Missiles. Then they fired the second volley.

"Starfall One, Fury Two."

2010 Zulu
Off the East Coast of Glorious Humanity
Central West Atlantic, International Waters
IDS Foresight

"Sir," Sensor Officer Jones called across the Foresight's bridge. "There is some kind of Electronic Counter-Measures Flooding our systems. Looks like the field extends all the way up the coast."

"What in all Hades?" Sensor Officer Jones wasn't the only one having problems with the Electronic Counter Measures (ECM) field.

"Communications are out as well," the Communication's Officer informed.

"Are the Adiutrix and Rapax still in visual range," the Captain asked.

The Frigate, IDS Adiutrix, and the Advanced Missile Destroyer, IDS Rapax, were the only vessel within the 26 miles to the horizon. Both were capable of Surface-To-Air Missile launch at the unidentified aircraft.

"On the horizon, Sir," was the response.

"Engage LASER Communications with the fleet," the Captain ordered. "And bring online ECCM systems."

Electronic Counter Counter Measures (ECCM) was the designation of equipment used to counteract Electronic Warfare Tactics such as Communication's and Detection Jamming and Scrambling, and the odd ECM feild that had disrupted communications and made regional surveillance an annoyance. LASER technology was becoming more and more used in the Imperium and now it was commonly used as an alternative communication venu. One that was especially used in situation in which all other forms of communications were limited. The only drawback was that it was limited in turn by being only available for line-of-sight communications.

"ECCM is only working limitedly, Sir," the Sensor Officer responded.

"Our Surface-To-Air Missiles are having trouble locking on to unidentified aircraft," the Weapons' Officer informed. "But ECCM cleared up some of it. I think we can launch the missiles with some success."

"It will have to be enough," the Captain admited. "Keep in contact with the fleet and lets see what we can do to clear up our equipment."

2013 Zulu
Off the East Coast of Glorious Humanity
Central West Atlantic, International Waters
Scythe Squadron

Major Marcus Pallo was in command of the squadron of interceptors dispatch from the super carrier, IDS Dragon. He was now rushing south to intercept the unidentified aircraft that were being attacked by a large amount of missiles. Whether the aircraft would be able to evade those missiles was uncertain, and it definitely was a possibility, which was why Marcus' entire squadron (12 Predator Interceptors) were moving in to an interception position.

"Form up, arm weapons," the Majored commanded.

The interceptors made a wide arcing turn, swinging in line with the far off unidentified aircraft. Cannons armed, Bolt and Pila Missiles activated, everything was quickly prepared. The 24 missiles from the Starfall Squadron would reach their targets first, but if they failed it would be up Scythe Squadron, and any missiles launched from the fleet.

"Be ready." And then they waited, slowing closing the gap between them and their targets.

2015 Zulu
Northern Suburbs of Loren
Glorious Humanity, Nusquam Esse
3rd Auxiliary Legion, 1st Battalion

"Latest Satellite Intel is in, Sir." The officer handed over the Computer Tablet to Major Marcus Titius as the Major turned to respond. The Major, who now stood his IFV as units of his Battalion moved in the Northern Suburbs of Loren, was working to coordinate his forces with the Glorious Humanity Loyalist and the Lavenrunzian troops. He took a moment to look over the latest information before turning back to his laptop, which sat on the hood of his IFV.

The night air was it's usual tropical humid, the same humidity that the Drakonian troops were acustom. Off in the distance was the occasional sound of an explosion or sputter of gunfire to remind the newly arrived forces of the reason for their visit to the city of Loren. Yet, those sounds seemed out of place, for around the Battalion was a simple urban neighborhood. The homes seemed like those in Drakonian and many places peaceful and secure. But, they were not and the military vehicles rolling by then made that clear

"I hate these night satellite photos," the Major complained. Something he quickly bushed aside as he did another analysis of the intelligence. He was so engrossed for the moment almost forgot to dismiss the officer.

Another one quickly took the place of the last officer. "Sir, 1st and 2nd Cohorts have deployed deeper into the city, a Recon Century is moving to probe the Rebels' Allies."

"Good," the Major confirmed his satisfaction at the moves. "Keep me informed."

"Yes, Sir." The last officer was replaced by one of his staff. An Corporal who handled communications.

All the while the Battalion continued to roll by deeper into the city; Infantry Fighting Vehicles (IFVs), Light, Medium, and a few Heavy Tanks, Armored Personel Carriers (APCs), and Supply Vehicles of various sorts. Soon even the slight buzz of helicopters informed the Drakonians of their own air cover arriving as well. The Battalion rolled on to war.

"Sir, 3rd and 4th Cohort have secured this Sector," the Corporal informed.

"Very good. Have them extend the control zone and be supported by the 7th and 8th Cohorts," Marcus ordered. "Cohorts 5, 6, 9, and 10 are to lead sorties into the city. We strike now, when they least expect it and keep the pressure on all night and day."

"Aye, Sir. I will relay your orders to the Cohort Commanders." Then he too was gone.

The Major turned back to his work, spreading out a map on the hood of the Command IFV and anchoring it with his laptop and the Computer Tablet, with the Satellite Photographs. Using the light from streetlamps he poured over it, planning his strategies.

It was long before another IFV drove back from deeper in the city. After crossing the military traffic, it pulled in behind the Major's IFV. The Major's Executive Officer, Captain John Ferrus, departed the vehicle and walked over to the Major.

"We've acquired the use of a large private high school for use of a command center," he informed. "The principle is descendant from a Drakonian immigrant, so he was only too willing to help. It should be adquate. You can relocate there to coordinate our efforts."

"Will do," the Major agreed. "Has the M.A.S.H. deployed to the nearest secure hospital?"

"They are as we speak," the Captain replied. He gestured to the resurgent buzz of rotors above them. "Most of our helos are mainly landing at the International Airport until we've established a separate secure airstrip."

"That will have to do for now. Let's get to the command post." And with that they loaded up and joined the stream of vehicles moving into the city.

2019 Zulu
Northwest Suburbs of Loren
Glorious Humanity, Nusquam Esse
Recon Century, 1st Cohort

The lead elements of the Recon Century moved forward slowly, advancing deeper into the hostile area of the city. They knew they were moving into battle and all were prepared. The roof 50-Caliber guns of the IFVs were manned by ready soldiers. Light Tanks' Cannon Turrets swiveled around ready to fire at the first sign of hostility. It could happen any minute. Any second, they could be engaged.

"Stay sharp," Lieutenant Luke Remus warned.

Like most of his unit, he had never seen combat before. Yet, like them all he had been constantly trained for combat. One of the Drakonian Military Ethos was constant training for every situation gave combat soldiers the best edge when it came to the real thing, something that had proved true, time and time again.

"Scout Alpha, still clear," the radio crackled.

"Don't let that fool you," the Lieutenant ordered. "There could be an ambush anywhere."

Urban Warfare was one of the more emphasized venues troops prepared for in Drakonia. Much had been learned in Drakonia's previous campaigns to make them worthy adversaries in this type of combat. It had been learned well and at the price of many good men.

Now, it was likely more would pay for another lesson.

An attack helicopter hovered above, barely visible in the night light, for a second before disappear above the rooftops. "Dragonfly One, still show hostiles ahead. No change. They don't appear to have noticed us."

"I wouldn't bet on that." The Lieutenant knew any competent force would have noticed them by now. They weren't exactly trying to be sneaky.

"Proceed with Alpha Strike," he ordered.

"Alpha Strike go," the helicopters confirmed. "Dragonflies let’s burn'em!"

A pair of attack helicopters could suddenly be heard flying above, only the darkening of the stars leaving any indication of their locations. Then the skies lit up as rockets burst away from the helicopters. In the distance further roared indicated the other two helicopters had fired as well.

http://67.18.37.14/118/74/upload/p639531.jpg

"Beta Strike go," the Lieutenant ordered and confirmed.

Two IFVs lead the assault, followed by a pair of light tanks (easily able to keep up with the fast infantry vehicles), an APC, and another pair of IFVs. They leapt forward on the city streets speeding toward their target.

The skies

Another warning... how boring...

Yes. But it gives us time. How long?

30... no, 25 minutes until we hit the harbour.

That should be enough. Though the flight back home will be a pain.

The planes continued, preparing for the encounter that would surely follow.

The sea

Meanwhile, a message arrived, together with some data about the tactical situation.

The submarine that had been detected by a GH submarine before it could actually drop its cargo, was now... Well, basically trying to survive, since the GH sub had actually managed to survive the attack. But, well, so did they.

The informationwas quite relevant, and the ship rejoiced, since she would probably be able to help...

Quickly, she changed her course, and slowly, she moved towards the closest enemy vessel she knew...

It would take her a while, but she would probably come in time... Her caterpillar drives moving it, slowly.

I`m coming to catch you...

The skies

There they are...

They had seen them coming, and the four fighters that were with them quickly moved to engage.

Unfortunately, the enemy didn´t seem to want to engage.

Goddamnit.

The four fighters had increased their speed and altitude, still, they were no match for the enemy. Still, four missiles were fired, heading towards them... Although at the present speed and distance, they would hit at the outer end of their radius...

Well... Guess we will have to be lucky.

Indeed... 24 birds. Feh.

Volcano Island

There wasn´t much she could do, her ressources to affect the the electronic defences the enemy had were limited... Though it would be fun to watch when the planes would actually arrive.

Adèle cursed a little, and moved on, contacting the Gamma- satellite hive.

It has been established. All seven eyes are at your disposal... Now search.

Yes.

And they searched.

All over the world... they wouldn´t be able to scan anyone, but they could detect signs of active nervous systems...

Billions, billions upon billions of people. But a few...

Adèle couldn´t really feel them, but somehow, she knew they were there.

The minds of Indiastani telepath in the east.

There, the Rukine Knights of Tsaraine, a sad echo of telepathy, but still... better than normals, the giant, growing masses of normals, uselessly living their irrelevant lives... Adèle could hardly wait for the day when they would end their worthless, poor, boring existence, unable to feel as close to each other as telepaths could.

And there, Glorious Humanity.

The eyes and the satellite hive begun to touch it... to search it. The approximated geographic positions were known, still...

If they didn´t use their abilities, it would be almost impossible to detect them.

So, they had to be lucky... Adèle had to be lucky.

Find them.

In the skies

the four fighters were sort of... well, the first line of defense for the... More important planes.

[i]You send the message?

Yes. When we return... If we return, we will have a couple planes waiting for us, to secure the... prey.

Very good... Now for more pressing matters...

The planes split their formation. None of the missiles were supposed to get through.

The advantage of having one of the most developed IT sectors in the world, together with a fairly well educated population, came into being, the missiles had certain problems to actually target them...

Unfortunately, it was far from being impossible.

Split... That one will miss... That too... Fire!

Fired.

And they fired. The missiles they fired were already thirsty for battle.

It was a bit disappointing, though, being used to intercept other missiles... The job was fairly complicate, it was harder than doing it with mere planes...

Still, it was doable, and they weren`t as distracted by various other countermeasures, baits and other such things the fighters used.

Oh, goddamnit... He has me... Cya later, guys.

A moment later, the cockpit core was ejected, another moment later, and the plane exploded, a missile hitting it.

Well... 'exploded'. It lost its balance, crushing into the sea, slowly sinking, a mess of organic, crystalline and metallic materials once being a machine of destruction... But not anymore.

Gotcha. It was the last thought of the missile, its sentient core rejoicing as it hit the 'enemy', one of the approaching LRMs... It wasn´t overly satisfied, but it was better than nothing.

And it ceased to exist, in an explosion that was nothing but beautiful, joining the void all conciousness joins sooner or later...

Death.

Ok... How many?

Lemme check... Goddamnit, 12 missiles are still there, heading for the rest of us.

AND... warned them. Ought to be fun... Oh, and that ones...

Yeah, I noticed. Twelve of them. Annoying.

A bit much for us. Feh, It has to work, somehow.

And with that, they changed their course, heading directly for the Scythe squadron, weapons ready... Though their missiles would likely be a useful distraction, what they wanted was to hit them in close combat... Where their telepathy, amplified by their planes' construction, would be able to strike.

They would strike as soon as possible.

In the skies, a short time later

They had been warned. And this time, it was the really important part of the job, not the fighters that were expendable...

But the transporters with the soldiers. And they couldn´t afford losing any of them.

The game begun, again, The systems slightly more effective that what the fighters had...

At least according to the manufacturer.

The results, however, were different.

And in the end, one of the precious transporters as well as one of the gunships were lost.

Of course, the call for help, send with the help of the invisible network the eye created was heard, and they would be cared for... If it was possible.

Meanwhile, fighters were taking off... far away, though. At Volcano Island.

[ooc: as far as I can tell, my group near Loren which you intended to attack isn`t included in your post, otherwise, mistake]

I didn`t even notice that I had a doublepost...

2021 Zulu
Off the East Coast of Glorious Humanity
Central West Atlantic, International Waters
Scythe Squadron

http://67.18.37.14/118/74/upload/p639534.jpg

The twelve Predator Interceptors were quickly closing the gap between themselves and the hostile aircraft. They had watched as the Starfall Fighter-Bombers made their retreat. One was damaged, but most had been able to avoid the weapons fired at them. They retreated from the feild of battle quickly leaving it for Scythe Squadron to clear the air of the intruders.

They were prompt in that duty. "Engage with Pila. Then go high," the squadron leader , Major Marcus Pallo, ordered and they did.

"Scythe Two, Fury Two." The first two Pila Missiles streaked away from the fighters.

http://67.18.37.14/118/74/upload/p639535.jpg

Then one more shot away. "Scythe Leader, Fury One-Two." Another quickly followed.

The rest of the squadron quickly joined in, sending each of their two Pila Missiles burning toward their targets. In all another 24 missiles blasted away. The,n almost as one, they gained altitude.

A key to aerial warfare is to attack from above. Not only does this give an attacking aircraft the advantage of the sun in the enemies eye during day, but it also gives them much more manueverability than a sluggish aircraft trying to gain altitude to fire. Which was why the highly manueverable Drakonian Interceptors were gain altitude to attack the unidentified aircraft.

"Delta Wing, you are to swing off and pressure them from the southeast, we'll hit them from the northeast," the Major commanded over the close-range radion systems, that were able to cut through the jamming. "See if you can slip in and light up those transports."

"Roger, Scythe Lead," was the reply as a second later, three of the Interceptor disengaged from the group.

http://67.18.37.14/118/74/upload/p639573.jpg

"The rest of you follow me in." The Major throttled up to full and kicked in his afterburners. "Fast and hot." The entire group increased their speeds greatly.

Standard Drakonian Aerial Combat Doctrine clearly outlined out air-to-air engagements were generally won. Combat Aircraft would fire their Long-Range Missiles. If these failed to eliminate the threat, they gained altitude on their enemy (if necessary) and attacked at full throttle, slowling only at the last minute to fire any Close-Range Missiles or to strafe with their guns. They would then break into close and fast dogfights, if then enemy had survived the earlier attacks.

It was these dogfights that the home-built Drakonian Aircraft were ideally suited. Designed to have near impossibly incredible agility, Drakonian Combat Aircraft could literally fly loops around even the best aircraft, without even having to change the direction in which they were flying. This unbelievable ability was unmatchable by even some of the most advanced aircraft and would usually win the Drakonians the day.

Yet, even the intense military training would was likely to ill-prepare the Drakonians from any telepathic attack.

"Burn up out of the sky, boys!"

The Predators arrived at engagement range just behind the LRMs they had launched.

"Roger that! Time to die."

They swooped down upon the awaiting enemies, slowing just long enough to release their volleys of gunfire or Bolt Short-Range Missiles. Then they were among them.

2029 Zulu
Off the South Coast of the Drakonian Imperium
Central West Atlantic, International Waters
IDS Dragon

"Starfall Six, Starfall Six, your coming in too low! Repeat, Starfall Six, gain altitude your coming in too low!" The message was quickly relayed to the aircraft making it's ascend to the Super Carriers deck.

"I see it! I see it," crackled the reply. But, the pilot was having trouble correcting the problem. His aircraft had grown sluggish after it was damaged. It only gained inches in altitude as it quickly approached the carrier.

"Get your nose up!" The deck controller's voice was now getting very stressed. Time had practicly run out and it seemed aircraft would crash.

"I'm trying...almost." The radio crackled again. He was correcting his ascend, but it was too late.

And the deck controller knew it. "Abort! Damn it! Abort!"

"I've go--" The pilot's statement was cut off as he relized just how bad off his damaged jet was. The lit deck of the carrier in the dark night suddenly became totally clear and grew quickly and immensely before him. "Oh s--"

And the Starfury Fighter-Bomber's left wing suddenly dropped just before the aircraft would have landed. The pilot ejected at the last second. He was thrown up, his forward momentum carrying him over onto the deck of the carrier, just as the parashoot opened. He crashed in the deck hard. A flash at the corner of the carriers deck indicated the connect of the right wing with the carrier. The jet aircraft's light were visible in the air off the side of the ship for only a second and then there was a great splash.

All was silent for a second. Then the crash sirens sounded loudly. Roaring for all to hear their warning. They were too late, but indicated to the crew the near fatal accident. Fire teams rushed to the side of the deck as an emergency medical team rushed to the pilot's ejection seat.

Someone yelled. "Secure the deck! We've gone more aircraft ready to land. Clear the deck quick!"

From the Command Deck, Commodore John Hawkins watched the action on the deck as the crew rushed to clear debris from the crash. The medical team was transfering the pilot onto a stretch, apparently he was wounded, but not dead. Near tradegy, the man thought. Avoided at the last second.

"The Destroyers Fulminata and Foresight report all clear, Sir," the ship's Captain reported. "Other than the air contacts, which are being engaged now. There are still, however, some problems with sensors."

"Very well. Until the jamming clears they should expect it," the Commodore replied. "I still can't shake the fealing that there is something else out there." He was a man who had learned to trust his fealings. The electronic warfare feild which had limited them to close-range radios and line-of-sight LASER communications seemed only to confirm his suspicions.

"I'll order the fleet to remain on guard," the Captain agreed. "And to not discontinue active sensor sweeps."

"Do that." The man continued to watch the deck, which was no clearing of the ship's crew. Off in the distance a series of lights indicated the five other Fighter-Bombers of Starfall Squadron waiting to land. As he watched, one broke away from the others, coming in to land.

[Clarifications between me and Drakonia happened, thusly...]

Close to Loren

Hiroshi waited, just like the others did. Their minds were one, individual personalities reduced to a minimum...

What one saw, the others saw, too.

Eleven were still there, they were outnumbered. Horribly outnumbered. Four had joined the droes in the center of the city, and one... Well, one had been unfortunate, though only Hiroshi knew about him.

Artificial eyes, not having a problem to see in the night, it was almost as if they were fighting under daylight...

They do expect... Something.

It doesn´t matter.

The sudden flash when the helicopters fired their missiles bothered them for a moment, but not for long...

Shiny...

Yeah, to bad they didn´t hit much.

This was, in all likelyhood, correct. While the explosions resulting from the four missiles hitting were rather impressive, the actual results were rather minimal...

Still, a couple mines (Very shiny, impressive explosions, this were) and drones had been hit, and since the majority of them was in the center of Loren, anyway, the loss wasn`t exactly good...

But it had already begun.

While one team was in the city, there were still three remaining, and now, they begun to fire back. Of course, missiles weren`t something they used often, still, they had a few... And three of them got up, suddenly heading towards the helicopters, the minds of the missiles wanting to destroy, to sacrifice themselves... Their sensors telling them were their targets were.

However, this was only one part of it, a rather irrelevant part.

They didn´t rise, they just waited... then fired, the drones, the few they still had, following their commands.

Weapons with half a dozen different calibres suddenly fired, flechettes cutting through the air and light armour, cries, screams filling the air.

And so it begins... Hiroshi smiles, chuckled as he saw it... However, this wasn`t the beginning.

He couldn´t see it, he could merely feel it in his mind, small, rat- like drones moving forward, searching for victims. Dragonflies in the air, doing the same...

They did have a few larger drones, and they fired, however, they had also been the bait for the approaching unit, and they were the ones who suffered actual casualities, damages... Well, it didn´t matter.

For the slaughter had already begun.

And it continued. Hiroshi couldn´t hide a grin, despite having a few rounds hitting a wall just a few centimeters from him. Now, the fun begins... And it begun...

The grenades didn`t 'explode' like one would assume they would. There was just a... A hissing noise, and the next thing one felt was the rising pain in the entire body, spasms hitting it, uncontrolled movements, cries, and then, when your nervous system was fried, a slow death, uncapable of movement, just feeling, with horror, that the body... refused... to breath. The nervous system being... Jammed...

Oh, shit... Hiroshi looked around, watching one of his own groupmates bleeding. He didn´t know if he was dead, but apparently, the enemy wasn`t as stupid as he had thought... They had expected the ambush...

Still, they could continue, and they would continue. He moved forward, just a little... A shadow, somewhere in front of him... He could feel it, his mind touched it... This was his thing, and he enjoyed it, as he reached out, as he embraced this new mind... Barely defended, he enforced entrance... He saw another one, a teammate took care of him, frying his brain system, while he took a bit more work, his mind, his will entering the centers... Where he would gain access to his victim`s movements, actions... It would be beautiful, watchign them turning against each other.

He smiled, feeling innocent, doing another good deed, a decent gentleman, well educated, having studied Kant and Erasmus... Listening to crickets, rather than the roaring gunfire...

And killed.

Not too close to the GH coast, air

A few assumptions made, I guess I will have to edit, TG/ IRC for corrections, please

Goddamnit...

They knew that their tactical position wasn`t exactly perfect, and despite gaining altitude and velocity before the actual encounter happened, they were... In trouble, to say the least.

Discussions took place. One of them against four enemy fighters. It was a bit much. Though DA fighters were good, with excellent controls and cutting edge weaponery, their velocity and maneuverability, while being excellent, wasn`t cutting edge. A superiority, if there was one, would probably be a few percent... It was likely that half of their fighters would just follow the slow trransporters and gunships, while the other half would shoot them down, probably losing two of their own.

If this happened, mission abort wa snecessary, since no one of them liked suicide missions.

Annoying Drakonians. Without them, we wouldn´t have any problems...

Blame mission control.

And there they come... Again.

And again, the same game with the missiles... And again, a fighter was lost, and half the missiles fired at them got through, heading towards the slow- flying transporters & gunships... It wasn`t a pleasent view, though this time, they would probably manage to save more of them.

They had fired their own long range missiles (Well, the remaining ones) the same moment the Drakonian fighters had fired them. It was... pretty, the missiles heading for each other, trying to hit something worthwhile...

And then, with both sides firing missile rains at each other, with both sides firing their guns, they were among each other.

And before he even knew it, the other went down... Of course, the pilot survived, but still...

Now, he was on his own.

But this was close combat... They were in range of his mind...

And he reached out, using his mind. Embracing the foreign souls, the electric impulses in their brains, their nervous systems... As they raced from place to place... He striked.

Volcano Island

Slowly, the planes rised. One by one, one after another.

This ones weren`t carrying pilots. Just weapons. They would cover what would return... If there would be anyone returning.

Somewhat closer to the GH coast, Air

Another transporter had been lost to the second wave of missiles. If this went on, they would be in serious trouble. Very serious trouble. They just hoped that they would get the necessary information... To be fast.

"Goddamn Drakonians. Ruining everything."
"We haven´t yet lost. There is still some hope..."
"Heh, yeah. We`re sitting ducks."
"Feh."

This was the way they talked, the assault squads in the transporters... No, they didn´t like this, they didn`t like this at all. And if they didn`t manage to somehow get rid of the Drakonian fighters...

And there they were. Though they did have one advantage. Again... Their minds...

However, they didn´t want to die...

Surrender?

If this slaughter goes on, yes.

Why wait? They could...

A grin in their minds. They should have thought about this earlier. Far earlier, and had they realised the threat the Drakonians were, they would probably have done it, anyway.

Well... Now, they had their opportunity.

And the next thing the Drakonian Pilots could hear was the message... The transporters and Gunships, being nothing but cannonfodder for fighters, offered their surrender, asking for further demands. Of course, they assumed that they wouldn´t be allowed to return. Who in his right mind would allow it? Of course... They could still be shot down... Which would be annoying at best.

[ooc: So, I assumed that you had half of your fighters following the transporters/ gunships, the other fighting my fighters. Hope this works]

The sea

She extended her field of vision, searching for prey...

Feeling through the waves, through the vast, eternal ocean. Soon, she would be detected, she wa certain of it. Despite having excellent sensor equipment, her hull, her drives weren´t perfect. They would hear her soon enough.

It was time to act, before they acted. For they could act every minute, every second.

And there was... something. A ship. Larger than she was, sleek, beautiful. It almost hurt her, the idea of hitting it, destroying it. It was beautiful...

But this was what she was supposed to be.

And her children were eager to do it.

So do it, my children...

And they left her vast body, searching for their prey... Finding it... Following its course...

Meanwhile, knowing that with releasing her children, she had become a target herself, she begun to move away, to retreat from the threat that were the Drakonian ships.

2023 Zulu
Northwest Suburbs of Loren
Glorious Humanity, Nusquam Esse
Recon Century, 1st Cohort

The lead IFV swerved off to the side of the road, the other one behind it split to the side ahead of it as the two Light Tanks rushed forward and past them. The lead tanks let loose it's own version of hell and fired it's 90mm cannon.

"Damn it," Lieutenant Luke Remus complained from the passenger's seat of the lead IFV. "I hate being right."

Gunfire had suddenly erupted from everywhere, tracers, splitting darts of light, cutting through the night. From the ambushers. From the attackers.

The IFV's roof mounted machine guns opened up swinging around to try and fire at the ambushing drones. The APC dove to the side of the road tearing up the front of a hardware store and deployed it's occupants, who immediately spread out and opened up with their own small arms. The rear pair of IFVs followed the Light Tanks further into the fray opening up with their own roof-mounted guns.

There were casualties. One soldiers charged right into the path of a grenade. His screaming could be heard as he died painfully, with nothing he could do to stop the suffering death. One of the IFVs was hit with a heavier weapon destroying the reinforced side rear window. The soldier sitting inside badly wounded, blood flowing from his neck, head, and shoulder. The lead IFV, the Lieutenant's IFV, was splattered with lighter fire, but its armor with held the barrage, although the gunner sticking up through the roof was not so lucky. He collapsed into the vehicle's backseat a projectile having torn through his neck.

Above the Werewolf Attack Helicopters of Dragonfly Squadron moved into position for another attack. Fortunately, one of the pilot's saw the three Surface-To-Air (SAM) Missiles streak into the air seeking their targets. "Two incoming SAMs," he warned. "Watch it Dragonfly Lead."

The indicated helicopter, Dragonfly One (or Dragonfly Lead), twisted in the air. "I see it," he replied.

The helicopters 20mm Cannon firing away at one of the missiles. It was a dangerous maneuver, but the pilot had not gained his position for "playing it safe". He was brash and daring...or foolhardy depending on who you asked. His gambit paid off, the missiles was hit by one of the wild shots and ripped in two. It dropped harmlessly away.

"Oh shi--" A bright white explosion filled the night air and when it cleared one of the helicopters was slowly spinning in the air. Massive structural damage was visible on it side and half of the bottom rotor was missing entirely. The tail collided with the corner of a building on its way down, and then it crashed violently in the ground wedged in between several buildings. There was no more communication wit the down pilots, but the forward section of the aircraft seemed mainly intact.

"Mark the location, relay coordinates to the Cohort," the Squadron leader ordered, then he reported the situation. "This is Dragonfly Lead, Dragonfly Three is down. Repeat, we have a helo down. Require rescue operation. Ov--"

"Another one coming in," the gunship's gunner warned.

The Squadron Leader reacted instantly, dodging the last incoming missile, just before it impacted on the helicopter. Then to his horror, it arched around coming back for him. "By Jupiter, it's seeking!"

Dragonfly Lead's Attack Helicopter attempted to gain some altitude barely missing the missile again as it slid past the bottom of the aircraft. The attack helicopter continued it's directly vertical assent, as the missile again arched around and this time upward. At the last possible moment Dragonfly Lead cut his rotors and the helicopter dropped, but the missile had adapted. It arched toward the dropping craft, initially missing the front of the helicopter and starting its downward turn just above the rotors. But, the still-affected air destabilized the missile's ascend and it lost control, spiraling past the helicopter, as the Pilot re-powered the rotors, and into the suburbs below.

There was another flashing explosion in the night.

2026 Zulu
Off the East Coast of Glorious Humanity
Central West Atlantic, International Waters
Scythe Squadron

The air battle was fierce. Even in the first few seconds the fighting was extremely intense.

As the two groups of aircraft shot toward each other eager to engage, both opposing rows of missiles, flumes flowing out behind them like great long columns, collided and shot past each other. There were a few dramatic and spectacular explosions denoting the collision of several missiles.

One of the Drakonians pilots broke away almost instantly, angling quickly away from the incoming threat. He fired off several bright flames, which flashed behind his fleeing jet. Another explosion declared his prudence.

Another was not so lucky. He was hit straight on, before he could even ejection. The entire forward portion of his aircraft was blown apart. There was no chance of survival.

Yet, the Predator Interceptors were dangerous adversaries, and using their velocity and speed to their advantage easily evade the incoming threats, dodging out of their paths, and leaving the long-range missiles little chance to catch back up with them.

One of the Drakonian craft was damaged, however when an enemy missile exploded just after missing it's target. Not beyond hope the interceptor was forced to turn and disengage. He flew home to the carrier that had launched him.

Just a second later the two forces engaged. The Scythe Squadron fighters suddenly slowing just enough to strafe their enemies with gunfire, or let lose their short-range missile (which were much more deadly than their long-range cousins). The Drakonian interceptors were deadly opponents using their superior agility to weave in and out of firefights with the unidentified aircraft.

"Alpha, Beta, Wings with me. Clear out what's left of their fighter cover. Gamma, Delta, finish those gunships and transports," the Squadron leader ordered, and the five remaining Predators of Alpha and Beta Wings engaged the remaining enemy fighters, the two remaining fighters of Gamma Wing sped past them to attack the Transports and Gunships, and the three fighters of Delta Wing rushed up from the southeast hungry for the kill.

In just seconds, it was easily apparent that the superior numbers, and state-of-the-art Drakonian craft were too much for their opponents. Yet, for a second or two more they fought on, and inflicted another casaulty.

There was a loud pained scream over the Drakonian's Communication's systems and one of the interceptors suddenly dove straight toward the waiting ocean below. The pilot continued to scream violently, as if struggling, all the way to his watery grave. The aircraft exploded on impact, spreading debris far across the water. The pilot managed one word before he died horribly, "telepaths."

The threat was realized instantly, but the Drakonians did not adjust their tactics, even though they had been breifed on the telepath threat and possible countermeasures. They knew that giving the enemy any resbit could be fatal and they did not allow it. The enemy realized that the had no hope as well, even with their telepathic abilities. They were outgunned, and there was almost no time left. There were only three options, fight to the death, retreat, or surrender.

Yet, the surrender still came as a surprise. Nevertheless, Major Marcus Pallo was an imperial officer and his extensive training had included the capture and handling of prisoners. He knew how to respond. "You will follow our orders without question and proceed to the coordinates given. Failing to do so, will result in immediated termination. Do you understand?" There was an affirmative reply, and the Major proceed to address their undoubtable concerns. "You need have no worry about your treatment. You will be treated with the utmost respect as Prisoners of War and be given your every need. Immediate arrangements will be made with those you represent to ensure your fair treatment, as well as visits by the Emirate Humanitarian Organization and other neutral humanitarian organizations. You will be allowed to return to those you represent once a peaceful agreement can be made with them. You have these assurances on my honor, on my Praetor's honor, on my nation's honor."

Even though there were concerns, the Imperium would not mistreat in any way, those Prisoners of War under it's care and the enemy commanders no doubt knew this, indicated by their choice to surrender. Honor meant such in Drakonian culture that torchure is unthinkable; cohersion detestable. Even those few, which exist in every nation and culture, who are inaitly evil, would not dare to mistreat the Prisoners of War in fear of the severe penalties for such corrupt actions. So those who had just surrendered to the Drakonians had nothing to fear.

And, the instructions were given. The aircraft were to proceed, with all due speed, to Cherokee Air Base (coordinates were transmitted), north of Glorious Humanity and west of the southern Drakonian/Atlantic Coast. The aircraft were to also fly in a tight formation.

Meanwhile, both the Super Carrier Dragon and Cherokee Air Base were launching further escorts, to relieve Scythe Squadron. Below the fleet watched with loaded guns as the two groups of aircraft turned northeast, one closely watched by the other.

Somewhere in or near Loren

Luckily for the Drakonians, that were basically all the missiles they had. Sure, their drones were equipped with significant anti- air equipment (For obvious reasons), but since most of them were... well, elsewhere... And Ghandhi Security Solutions wasn´t overly into missiles, preferring raw firepower by way of guns.

The massive fire the (numerically) far superior Drakonian troops used proved to be fairly dangerous, a couple smaller drones, as well as a larger one, going down. Not having air superiority was certainly annoying.

The larger drones, a bit too expensive to be lost, retreated a bit, though firing, 33mm flechettes fired from their gauss guns turning walls into swiss cheese, occasionally hitting something worthwhile, the smaller ones crawled over the ground, flew through the air, seeking targets... The helicopters being one of the targets, though they, at least their armoured parts or when flying high/ fast enough, wouldn´t have any problems escaping the threat... The drones, hungry, waiting for a chance to destroy, would need luck. Lots of it.

Of course, there was the prey on the ground... the vehicles and soldiers of the enemy.

And they were the ones they concentrated on. Using their advantage, their rather small size, they came near, occasionally hitting their 'prey'... Of course, they had a disadvantage, too, this was that they (the smaller ones) weren´t armoured... Whenever they were actually hit, whenever grenade shrapnells hit them, they were down. And they weren´t exactly faster then the human soldiers they intended to hit, either with suicidental attacks, exploding when hitting, or biting, poisoning.

And slowly, their numbers were dwindling.

Meanwhile, Hiroshi and the others retreated, slowly... Not from the 'battlefield', but from the close combat... It was something they didn´t like... They could be hurt.

Still, their minds worked... Hiroshi could feel the one of his men that had been hit... He was screaming, with his mind, and with his mouth... He had been hit, badly, he would probably die.

One or two others had been wounded, too. Though their minds were superior... The numerical superiority of their enemy counted for something.

And again, he reached out... Usually to fry a nervous system. Turning the Drakonians against each other would probably be fun, but it would also take time... Time he didn´t have. Indeed, even the 'frying' took too much time, and he and the others mostly used their capabilities to guess... To read, to know where they would strike next, to act in advance, knowing what they knew and planned, firing in exactly the right moment... In the end, this proved to be far more useful than their more... frightening capabilities.

He raised his gun, firing a short burst, hearing a scream, not knowing who had been hit. Not even knowing if it was his burst that had resulted in this.

It was sorta annoying.

International Waters, closer to GH than before

The last fighter descended, having been destroyed only a few moments after his mind had touched the enemy...

From the four fighters that had been the 'protection', not a single one was left.

In the same way, two of the eight transporters, as well as one of the gunships had been destroyed.

It was... well, not exactly a useful result.

Still... The troopers in the remaining transporters (twenty in each) were more than slightly amused... After all, they were mercenaries, their 'nation' not exactly in war with the Drakonians... heck, even their employee wasn´t in war with them... Though this could change, soon.

Well...

If they want to give us royal treatment, we shall enjoy it.

And one had to admit... They would have done the same, despite their rather arrogant position towards normals... There was no need to cruelty, and despite all other... 'ideological flaws' they had... Angstian soldiers had yet to misstreat prisoners (Angstian scientists and soldats members, now, that was a different matter).

Of course... Cherokee Air base wasn´t exactly where they wanted to be... The closer to the 'rogue' (Or loyalist, depending on one's position), the better... But they didn´t really have a choice.

Feh. Where were we?

Your sis-

Shut up, bitch.

2028 Zulu
Northwest Suburbs of Loren
Glorious Humanity, Nusquam Esse
1st Cohort, 1st Battalion

As the rest of the 1st Cohort moved into position to support it's Recon Century, two rescue helicopters were immediately dispatched to recover any survivors from the downed helicopter. It would not be long before they reached the crash site and during that time the attack helicopters rotated taking turns to cover the area of the crash.

Coomunications were shortly recieved from the Recon Century to his a clear report of the situation. "Probing of enemy forces indicates a small number of units. We outnumber them, but are taking heavy causalties. Continuing to press our luck, request support."

Another Century was immediately dispatch. This one meant for heavier action.

OOC: Late night quickie. More to come, later.

2030 Zulu
Central Suburbs of Loren
Glorious Humanity, Nusquam Esse
2nd Cohort, 1st Battalion

Meanwhile, deeper into the city the 2nd Cohort was also preparing to engage the enemy-allied forces. These of a much heavier nature. The Cohort had split into three main strike groups; two larger ones that would attack from flanking positions, and one smaller one that would attack dead on from the north.

They moved into position hoping to catch the enemy with overwhelming force.

OOC: And another quickie.

2031 Zulu
Northwest Suburbs of Loren
Glorious Humanity, Nusquam Esse
1st Cohort, 1st Battalion

The skirmish intensified. The soldiers attempting to neutralize the drones with their guns before it was too late. Those manning the roof machine guns of the IFVs were sending tracking wave after wave of shells into their targets. Using advanced Night-Vision Goggles they identified their targets by heat, infrared, and movement. Similar more advanced systems were used in the Light Tanks so valiantly leading the charge into the enemy ranks.

But even in the depth of the tank armor the Drakonians soldiers were not safe. The driver of the rear tank succumbed to a psychic attack. Suddenly under the control of the enemy telepaths he rammed the tank leading the charging vehicles. The jolting collision slammed his head forward, knocking him unconcious. It also send the second light tank into the front of an apartment building, but it was not useless. The turret tore free of the buildings facade and turned to again fire on the enemy drones. There was a flash and another shell was fired.

One of the lead parked IFV was also a target. It's driver suddenly convulsed, his eyes going wipe, and his mouth opening in a soundless scream. Then he slumped forward into the steering wheel and was dead. Lieutenant Luke Remus, still barking ordered, swapped seats with the corpse took control of the vehicles' driving, for when it would be needed.

The unfortunate vehicle was then the recipient of a blast of flecete, which tore in it's right side. The IFV jerked sideways, and a soldier using it for cover was smacked square in the helmet with a ricoheting chunk of scrapnel. He collapse blood flowing freely through his destroyed helmet. Yet, despite the excess of blood (which is common with head wounds) the man would survive because of the durability of his now destroyed helmet. He was a lucky one.

The gunner of one of the IFVs following the tanks was struck by a jumping drone. Collapsing inside as the drone propelled itself away again, it seemed he hoped to survive the incounter, but it was quickly apparent that was unfound. The effects of the poison was quickly cleared, he convulsed, falling quickly into a coma. Another soldier quickly took his place at the gun.

The tanks wedged in the front of an apartment building was meanwhile lining up for a shot on some of the retreating enemy forces, these apparently human or the near-human telepaths. The shot was lined up using the tanks sensors, then it fired. The high explosive shell cut entirely through the building they were using to cover their retreat and continued on toward it's targets. A blinding explosion left their fate unclear as even the tanks sensors were blinded by the heat and light, for a few moments.

Yet, the skirmish was far from over.

One soldiers lobbed a grenade into a pack of enemy drones only to have one jump into him, killing him violently. Another was literally shot a drone off him, but most soldiers were able to use expert marksmanship to keep the attacking forces at bay.

OOC: Couldn't restrain myself...guess this is all for tonight. Sleep is much needed.

The large drones retreated, so did the humans... well 'human' being a relative term, in their group. A few of the smaller ones did, too, They wanted to keep them, just in case.

The 'battle', or rather, skirmish (What a degrading word, men die, no matter what the situation is called) went on, both sides firing at each other...

It did certainly have its advantages to have an augmented body... Hearing more, seeling more, feeling, smelling more (Well, the latter could be a problem).

Of course, it still had its limits...

Grenades exploding, smoke everywhere, cries, pain, suffering...

Annoying, as Hiroshi put it.

Indeed, their casualities were growing... Granted, so were their enemies casualities.

I wonder how many mines they found... Or how many blew up beforehand...

A short command... the others (Well, the others that had remained, the enemy fire being fairly dangerous) nodded, and they searched for the triggers... They are nice, shiny, amusing... Telepathically triggered mines, explosives...

It will be great fireworks.

Feh. Looks like a few are missing. Not sure how many...

And with their minds, they touched them, to trigger a new sun, for a second, a moment...

To escape in what will follow.

Meanwhile, quite a bit away, one of the larger drones stood, IR sensors getting clear readouts... it was warm, leaking heat, constantly... Like all the larger drones.

It wa sfairly easy to hit it.

However, in this particular case, one of the grenades hit something it wasn´t supposed to hit, the core... its energy source.

As the drone fell down, dysfunctional, energy reserves quickly running out, its core was released into the environment, leaking... Like all larger drones, this one was equipped with radioactive isotopes as power source.

[ooc: Whatever larger units of yours will arrive, they will prolly find one or two dead teeps, and as many wounded ones lying around. And a lot of drones, a few still functioning, though this is basically a full (but fighting) retreat. Dunno if they will run into your reinforcements, however, they will try to evade any contacts. Partly because they are running into an ammunition problem.

Reminds me, there is still that submarine that fired four torpedos at one of your ships... (The most valuable one they can reach) (Which ship, that was left open for you, since you know your battle formation better than I do)]

The Fifth Day

0550 Zulu (5:50 AM)
Loren, Glorious Humanity
The barracks

"Rise and shine, Cap'n," the voice said. Hands pushed at Ein, trying to get him to awaken.

For a short time he fought them, wanting to cling to sleep and dreams, but then his concious mind surfaced and remembered where they were and what they were doing. Sighing, he allowed the darkness of rest to slip away and opened his eyes.

Bolan was leaning over him, peering down at him. Bolan, Ein noted, was already in uniform. Probably showered too. One thing that had always bugged Ein about his best friend was that Bolan was entirely too alert and chipper in the morning.

"Sleep well?" Bolan asked.

"Very," Ein replied, grinning as the memories of the previous night rushed into his mind. She wasn't still here, he noted. He couldn't help being a little disappointed, although the rational part of his mind knew it was better. If she'd been caught here they'd have both been in trouble. He sat up and started to throw the covers off. "Heard anything from the COs?"

And that was when he realized he was still naked, right as Bolan held up his boxers. "Before you pull the covers off, you might want to put these on."

Ein snatched the underwear and pulled it on. Then he threw off the blankets and stood up. "Where did you find them?"

"Right next to your bed," Bolan replied. "Why were you sleeping naked?"

"Some people do," Ein replied, his good mood deflated. Without looking at Bolan he grabbed his duffel bag from under his bed and grabbed his uniform out of it.

"Not you though. Say, what's this?" Bolan asked. Ein glanced back. Bolan had two hairs between his fingers. "These were on your pillow. They're red. Have anything you want to share, Ein?"

"No." Ein headed for the showers. "How long have we got before we've got to report?"

"Twenty minutes," Bolan replied. "That's why I got you up early."

"Thanks," Ein replied. He was almost to the bathroom door.

"You weren't alone last night, were you?" The question stopped Ein in his tracks, which was all the answer Bolan needed. "That's what I thought. Who was here?"

Ein could tell his buddy wasn't going to give up. He was silent for a long moment, then sighed. "Erica."

"Wow, she's quiet." Bolan grinned. "I would've pegged her for at least a moaner."

Ein whirled around, his eyes flashing fire. "Theo, lay off okay? Yes, she was here. Yes, she came to my bed. Yes, we were intimate. Happy? What are you going to do, report it now?" Fraternizing was illegal in the Glorious Human army. Although it was rarely enforced, if the COs found out he'd been fraternizing with an officer from another country's army...

Bolan folded his arms and shook his head. "Ein, Ein, Ein, you silly, lovestruck little boy. Why on earth would I do a mean thing like that?"

"You're not going to report?" Ein asked.

"Report what? That you and a female officer who have been head over heels for each other almost since the minute you met finally did something about it? That wouldn't be a very friend-like thing to do, would it?" he asked, then grinned. "Long as you keep it down, I don't care."

Ein couldn't help grinning. "Thanks."

"Hey, what are friends for?" Bolan checked his watch. "Grab your shower and get dressed. It's a ten minute walk to the new command center."

"Right." Ein went to get his shower. For some reason, he felt a lot better again.

*************************************************************

0610 Zulu (6:10 AM)
The Command Center

The allied forces' new command and coordination center had been set up in a police precinct a few blocks the university. The police station was well-built, solid and difficult to damage, which made it ideally suited military use. The exterior was red brick with reinforced concrete underneath, and "Loren Police Department Precinct 19" in raised gold lettering. There were a few windows, all now tightly shut, and in the parking lot police vehicles shared space with military equipment. Vehicles were coming and going at a steady rate, and off in the distance the music of warfare - assault weapon chatter and explosions - reminded everyone why the people inside this precinct now mostly wore camoflauge instead of blue. Ein and Bolan were also wearing camo now, having put away their black President's Guard uniforms so they would look like any other soldier. As they approached, they noticed all the soldiers were wearing blue armbands on both arms. Ein wondered what that was about, but figured he'd know soon enough. After getting directions from the guard on duty at the door, they headed to the meeting room on the second floor.

The interior of the building looked more comfortable. The main lobby was tiled in black and white, and arranged like lobbies around the world, with chairs and a couple small tables for visitors, and a desk in the middle of the room. The cop who normally sat there had been replaced with an armed soldier, but this person saw Ein's stripes and waved them through after a cursory ID check. Bolan stayed down in the lobby while Ein headed up. The walls of the room were painted white, and hung with pictures of various police officers as well as some award plaques. Two doors on the side walls led deeper into the building, but Ein went for the elevators at the back. He passed a few blue uniforms, and shared the ride up to the second floor with an officer who saluted. The police were assisting the army in enforcing martial law and holding some areas of the city.

The second floor was much like the first, and Ein stepped out of the elevator into a hallway decorated like the lobby downstairs. Following the directions, they turned left and headed for the second door on the right. This briefing room had originally been for police to plan raids and stings on crimals. Now the thirty or so desk chairs where officers sat to listen to instructions were pushed back to make room for a table with maps. Major Hicks was already there, as well as three other people in Glorious Human uniforms and a couple Lavenrunzians. The Glorious Human soldiers had the same blue armbands everyone else who was in camo was wearing. Ein also noted the presence of two blue uniforms, which were worn by the chief of this precinct and the chief of the whole Loren police department. Hicks looked up as Ein walked in.

"Oh good, you're finally here," he greeted him. "Come on over and put these on." He tossed two of the blue armbands to Ein from a pile next to the table.

"What are these for sir?" Ein asked as he slid them on.

"Identification," Hicks replied. "We found a problem yesterday. The bulk of the rebel fighting force are soldiers from Degrass and the other bases in this province, and they haven't had time to make up new uniforms. So we're fighting people dressed in our colors. Those armbands are supposed to tell the good guys from the bad."

"Yes sir," Ein nodded. "So what are we doing?"

"Our forces and the Lavenrunzians are attempting to encircle the city, but the rebels are putting up a fight. We're cutting their supplies though, slowly but surely. They haven't backed off yet, although they've been fighting all through the night and supplies must be getting low."

"Not necessarily," Ein commented. He glanced around the table, noting that Erica wasn't one of the Lavenrunzians there. He wasn't sure whether to be disappointed she wasn't there, or relieved that he wouldn't be distracted. Maybe she just hadn't arrived yet. "How many police stations like this one are there in their territory?"

"Twenty-five," Hicks answered. "And it's already occurred to us that they might be resupplying from police armories. There's also a home guard armory within their turf, and that'll allow them to keep their heavy machine guns and rocket launchers shooting a while longer. With SWAT arsenals added to the guard armory, their assault and sniper rifles should be able to keep going for days." Glorious Humanity's Special Weapons and Tactics police units were like special police forces the world over. They used many of the same weapons as the military.

"What about Degrass?" Ein remembered that an airstrike was supposed to have been flown against the command base.

Hicks shook his head. "Same story as with El Dorado. The bombers got yanked out of the air and smashed to pieces against each other and the ground. The psychics are taking a hand in defending this area."

"Great," Ein said quietly.

"We've still got air cover over Loren," Hicks continued. "No collisions yet. You'd think they'd be fighting harder for this city, given how close it is to the Academy." He shrugged.

"Maybe they think the grunts can handle it," one of the other officers said. Ein noticed his nametag read O'Conner, and he had Captain's stripes.

"Or they're just lazy," a female Major who's nametag said Hardy suggested.

"Maybe either, maybe both," Hicks replied. "Anyway, we should count our blessings. We got another one. The Drakonians sent some forces to assist, they're currently engaging some of those weird robots in the city. We're waiting for some of their officers to get here so we can add them to the planning. That gives us an overwhelming, better-supplied force. Once we're all working with each other, it'll just be a matter of time."

"Unfortunately we don't have time to siege them into submission," Major Hardy said. "Those robots are from another country, and orders came from command early this morning. Some foreign power is supporting the rebels, and it's become a priority to beat them as fast as possible, before whoever their backer is sends in a serious force. Military Intelligence is trying to identify the backer and find out if perhaps this revolt was instigated by them."

"Also, the Navy reported we may have found where the foreign support's coming from. A Predator sub patrolling off the east coast encountered a hostile vessel. Our sub disengaged and reported in, and we're in the process of getting our eastern seaboard saturated with ships to hunt down any more surprises," Hicks told the group.

"Good for them. What about us?" Ein asked.

"Well, if we're going to beat them fast, we need to take several locations. One, we need that armory. Two, we need as many of the police precincts as possible. Three, we need to finish encircling the city," Hicks ticked the items off. "That'll cut their bullet supplies, which would be the quickest way to overwhelm them."

At that moment there was a knock at the door. "Enter," Hicks said.

The person who entered was a young man in a cop's uniform. He saluted everyone, then gave a piece of paper to the police chiefs. The two of them read it, then dismissed the officer.

"If I may," the department chief, whose nametag said Eckerson, spoke. "I believe we may have a place to start on those precincts." He held up the paper. "This is a radio transmission from Precinct 24, on 14th and Sheridan Streets. It's a distress call."

"14th and Sheridan..." Hicks consulted one of the maps. "That's behind rebel lines."

"Yes, Major, it is," Eckerson nodded. "Apparantly most of the police are still resisting the rebels. This transmission says there are nearly fifty officers holed up in Precinct 24. They're holding off rebel assaults, but running low on supplies."

"Then we'll blaze a trail to them and get them more goodies," Hicks replied. "It sounds like a good place to start." He looked around the room. "Alright, decision time. Who's got forces in position to do what?"

Loren Barracks, the Briefing Room
A short but tough looking woman with rather hard looking bronzed skin, light blue eyes and an air of command nodded. "Colonel Letz, 1st Brigade, 1st Division of Imperial Marines." she said. "We'll be taking part in the encirclment, and my General instructs that we will also take the armory."

Lavenrunzian Encampments and AOs

Lieutenant Stefan Werner sat in the gray early morning in the half shelter near his command vehicle, trying to warm his hands around a mug of coffee, unable to stop shivering.
It wasn't so much he was cold as just utterly nerve wracked. He had arrived to join the division after mechanized infantry training and before that the academy just a couple of weeks ago.
Captain Goetz, his Rittmeister, had an air of effortless authority--in fact, he glimpsed him now through a gap in the laces, hands in his pockets, talking casually with a couple of grenadiers from another platoon.
The Captain had advised him to listen to his platoon sergeant, Kassel. This wasn't hard, since Kassel was old enough to be his father--indeed, resembled him, with his big blunt hands and gruff air of a man busy at real work.
What was difficult was the fact that the sergeant and all the rest of the thirty nine troops he commanded seemed ready to follow his orders. Cheerfully.
He had never seen action in his life. He was not from the landed gentry--like many modern Lavenrunzian officers, he was from the middle classes, only marginally better educated than the NCOs.
Nevertheless, when he got out of the shelter and tossed his coffee grounds in a litter pit, he returned Goetz's nod with one of his own, and when the Captain said,
"Ready for a jaunt, Werner?"
He responded politely, "Yes, Captain." hoping his smile was not too sickly.

Bombardier-Major Stahl drove up in his jeep, scowling out of habit, and then paused at the sight of the battalion. Forcing himself to be polite, he went up to Number 4 battery, which was missing two self propelled guns.
"Lieutenant Lerner," he greeted gruffly, saluting the young officer. "Where are the rest of your guns?"
The young woman, who had been trying to get the mist off her spectacles, gulped. He had daughters older than her. "Their treads got caught in the mud and came apart. Just like that!"
"But where are they?" he demanded, trying to be patient. He noted, pleased, that the lieutenant's senior bombardier was busy getting the ammunition off the loading vehicles that were hooked up to the self propelled guns like aphids to ants.
"Back down that road near that little town..." she gestured. "I radioed for 5/7th Engineers to pick them up."
"Very well, your Honour, the Major will want to know of course." he said politely, thinking his job never ended.
The battalion, all told, was one battery of multiple rocket launch systems, two batteries of 155mm self propelled guns, and one battery of Landsknecht Missile Launchers. Minus two self propelled 155mm howitzers.

A horde of metal beasts growled out of their defensive positions. Lieutenant-Colonel von Neurath's tanks rumbled through the fields and along the roads. Along with a few scout vehicles and the communications and anti-armor apcs, they were the mailed fist of the brigade.
Colonel Letz, as she stood tall in her command vehicle, watching them move into position to be refuelled, felt excitement rise in her for a moment. No tank trap streets this time, ideally. An encirclement was just what this brigade could do. Dietrich had explained to her that the city had to be contained,
and then the supply armory taken out. That would be accomplished by a joint thrust of the 1st Brigade and the Helicopter Regiment.

Lieutenant-Colonel von Hackelgruber, in the lead position, had already refuelled, and apart from sentries gave orders for prayers to be said. This was done in many of the Lavenrunzian units.
"Blessed be the Lord my strength
which teaches my hands to war
and my fingers to fight
My goodness and my fortress
my high tower, and my deliverer
my shield, and He in whom i trust
who subdueth my people under me"
the Lavenrunzians sang.

The helicopter regiment started out from several miles away. They had come from the coast, from the fleet, and needed refuelling as well. A marine infantry regiment would be included with them; they were marching to their waiting positions as the big fuel bladders strung embryonic cords to the metal insects they fed.

Far up in space, a G-11 battle satellite was swinging into position, sending a series of signals down to the command ship, which in turn fed the battle computers of the commanders in the 1st Brigade of the Imperial Marines. The satellite showed a sweep of the city--with some cloud interference.

"And unto thee we grant our hands, and swords.
Too no end shall the bloodflow be, When I shall
take up my blade, and smite my enemies, through swift
wrath shall I slay those whom raze, and harry me.
O Kungshao, Lord of War, lift me with thine talons,
e'er dripping with the blood of those who oppose
thy will, and make as one of the Dragon Legions."
-Ancient Kungshaoist Prayer

0737 Zulu,
Sanctus, Tersanctus
Executors Mansion,
War Breifing

"So...there is Civil War in GH,...too the south of us, and after SIX days you Incompentent Fucks, tell me!" roared Executor Chirstopher Dantes.

"Sir, its more complicated than that. The individuals responsible are..." the Minister of Defense cut off. The tensness in the room quite tangible.

"..are what?" Chris shot back angrily, his blue eyes cutting knives through the Minister. "Drakonia is our Sister Nation! Does that mean nothing too you?"

"Sir,...I dont know how too say this, the rebels are....psychics."

Chris took a deep breath.

"Psychics?"

"Yes, they easily take over the minds of people, hell they could probably read our minds now."

"That depends on the strength of the mind, now doesnt it?"

Somewhere,...in a place not here or there, A Huge Dragon roared, thogh none here could hear it.

{Public Service Announcement} The Following Posts are from the previous day.

2033 Zulu
North of Loren
Glorious Humanity, Nusquam Esse
3rd Auxiliary Legion, 1st Battalion

"For Honor, and Glory!" The words of the old war tune rang in the head of the commander that had heard them sung by his own men. It had been on the trip down to the city of Loren that Major Marcus Titius had listened to those words.

"We March off to War!"

Now he wondered how true they really were.

"For all that's True, and all that's Right!"

Was their cause really just?

"We go Death and On!"

Was it worth the deaths? He knew, the first casualty reports were already being prepared.

"Integrity and Loyalty to our hearts, is all we need. So we will go to War!"

The Drakonian Heart and Soul are a strange thing in a world of compromise with evil. They yielded little and only that at great loss. Liberty, Justice, Integrity, and above all Honor were of greatest import to Drakonians. In a world as evil was viewed at gray and were striving for betterment at all costs was scoffed at, Drakonians were the exception...but not alone, and they saw it.

These are generalities to be sure, and one must not overlook their failings; Pride, Arrogance, and a white-hot temper (when inflamed) are but a few and generalities as wells. Still, the Good must not be forgotten or lost. It must always be strove for at whatever cost or price, it is always worth it.

The Major was supposed to be eating, but it troubled soul and lonely heart had led him elsewhere. The song rang in his mind as if he was actually hearing it. His crisis of conscience was just as strong.

"Love, do not worry so." The voice was like crystal in a garbage heap. The face was the same. Marcus wished only to be with her, his wife. "Your are doing what is right."

He did not see it clearly, so he listened. "The Telepaths were wronged that much is clear and undeniable. Yet, they chose a course which caused harmed to innocents. They attempted to murder millions. They targeted civilians. They committed acts of terrorism. Civil Disobedience is one thing, Murder, Terrorism, and Cruelty are another entirely. There is always a choice, always many options, jumping to the easiest and most obvious is not always the best idea. One must be careful in the course we set for ourselves."

Her golden face and bright hair could not have shown more to Marcus Titius more, then at that moment. He loved her, nothing more needed be said. "Thank you." He smiled, a tired warriors smile that betray his strong feelings for her even in its dullness. "Send my love to Jenna."

"She will be sorry she missed her father." She strengthened him even at such a great distance, a distance that burdened him much.

"He is sorry to have missed her," Marcus replied. "I love you."

There was a hint of sorrow at the parting. "I will always love you. Fight on, my brave soldier." The communication ended and the beautiful face disappeared from the monitor.

No food could have strengthened the Major more, than that one conversation with his wife. He returned to his duty.

OOC: Really sorry, people. Getting to a computer (much less with the internet) has been hard this last week. RL has been major busy. I'll try to keep up over memorial day and all. The following posts have been written for a couple of days and have been waiting to be post. This was the first chance I got. Again, sorry.

2036 Zulu
Northwest Suburbs of Loren
Glorious Humanity, Nusquam Esse
Recon Century, 1st Cohort

The steady stream of projectile fire from both opposing forces slowly trickled down to almost nothing but the occasional bout of gunfire. After several long minutes of conflict it the enemy had withdrawn. The skirmish was over.

But, the mounting casualties were not. One of the IFVs that were supporting the tanks rolled over a mine and was flipped into the air. The vehicle landed on its side horribly mangled. Yet, it's had been designed for survivability and land mines was one of the things it had been prepared against. While there were injuries to its passengers they would survive.

Another soldier was not so fortunate. He stepped on another mine and lost his leg. His comrade was also hit by the blast. He took a chest wound.

Lieutenant Luke Remus was surprised. He had exceeded his mission parameters. His unit was dispatched to simply test the enemy-allied forces strengths instead he had routed them. It was a surprising achievement, especially to him.

"Sir," one of the soldiers under his command asked. "Do we give pursuit?"

Only a moment of thought was needed on the Lieutenant's part. "No," he replied. "No. We do not. We will leave that up to the coming Century." They would stay and lick their wounds.

It occurred to almost none of the soldiers that they had seen their first actual combat. They had acted on their training with spirit and it had carried the day...or night rather. And, in that short conflict, on the field of battle, a unit of veterans was formed from the crucible of war.

OOC: Working on up-to-dating myself. Should post again soon.

[ooc: of course, Z'Ha'Dum was me... feh.]

Close to Loren

Heinrich was bleeding. He knew it. Generations of genetic engineering and incorporation, unification of biology and tech...

Yet, he was still bleeding.

The pain was... Acceptable, though. It didn´t hurt too much. Yes, it had hurt at the beginning, but the morphine he had taken worked fairly well.

He looked around. he saw a lot of ruins, a couple corpses, bleeding... Enemies, apparently. Then he looked down.

"Oh, damn..."

He closed his eyes, enjoying the morphium while he pondered the amount of money a new leg would cost.

F*ck it, I´m in debts.

He just waited to be found by... someone, his mind being weakened by the drug.

Elsewhere, Loren

Apparently, their run had been successful... Hiroshi checked the results. They had lost their position, technically, it was a defeat. However, since their position hadn´t exactly been important, he could live with that... The losses. Yes, those were annoying. Granted, they had fought rather well (For Angstian standards, and Angstians weren´t known for their bravery), and in the end, the results were... acceptable, but still...

Things would have to go better in the near future.

Well... For now, he had to prepare for the day.

"Come over, we have to talk..."

Eastern Coast, Glorious Humanity

They were moving. In the end, they didn´t need that many people at the coast... It had, in fact, been an unreasonable deployment.

But... Well, they would change that.

And so, they begun their 'long march', all terrain drones with cabins (narrow, annoying, uncomfortable, but hey) were available... Now they would just have to arrive were they intended to arrive.

Which would take a while, but it would be fun.

Though...

The trip itself...

"F*cking jungle. OUCH!"

{Public Service Announcement} The following post also take place in the Past.

2045 Zulu
Off the East Coast of Glorious Humanity
Central West Atlantic, International Waters
IDS Foresight

Seaman Philip was idly scratching his head. "That's odd," he commented, loud enough for Sensor Officer Jones to hear.

"What is it," the Sensor Officer asked, stepping over to Seaman Philip's station, which just happened to be the sonar station.

The Seaman explained. "Something is making an odd noise outside. Sounds like some sort of seismic or volcanic rumblings, but it's really low, almost not audible at all. Far off as well, looks to be below or near the Diamondback."

The Sensor Officer was perplexed as well. The fleet was not positioned above any continental plate fault lines or any known underwater volcanic areas, so there was no reason for either disturbance.

With no other ideas, the Sensor Officer informed the Captain. Who after mulling over the event for a while simply ordered them to "keep monitoring it" and inform him of any chances. He also had the Destroyer, IDS Diamondback, appraised of the situation.

2048 Zulu
Off the East Coast of Glorious Humanity
Central West Atlantic, International Waters
IDS Diamondback

http://www.royal-navy.mod.uk/data/[(1157)-18-02-2002]T45.jpg

The IDS Diamondback was one of the latest vessels in the Imperial Drakonian Navy. Built was a recent design, it was crafted to increase offensive capabilities as well as defensive radar and sonar signatures. It was silent deadly and registered as a much smaller vessel to both sonar and radars, at least the latest modern sonar and radar systems. Many much older systems could not detect it at all. The end result was a truly spectacularly smooth and beautiful ship, beautiful and deadly.

"Yeah, I hear it, Sir." The Sensor Officer informed the man standing over his shoulder. "Definitely sounds seismic or volcanic, but that just can't be."

The Captain nodded his agreement. Now he too was thinking it through in his head, trying to come up with a solution to what it was. "Any ideas," he asked his officer.

"No, sir." The man looked as confused as everyone else.

2051 Zulu
Off the East Coast of Glorious Humanity
Central West Atlantic, International Waters
IDS Foresight

Everyone on the advanced surveillance ship were still trying to figure out what the sound was, as well, but so far with no luck. Then the Captain had an idea.

"Play the sound on speakers," he ordered. This was done, and the Bridge’s Speakers played a whooshing-like noise. "Speed it up by a factor of ten," was his next order. This too was done, yet now the sound was extremely different. The sound of mechanical motors was clearly heard on the bridge.

"It’s an engine," Seaman Philip asked, stating the obvious. He was still perplexed.

"Magnetohydrodynamic Drive," the Captain replied, explaining. "Also known as a Caterpillar Drive. Nearly silent at low speeds, and sounds just like a biologic, seismic, or volcanic sound. We use the same thing to power are Mini-Submarines."

The implication was obvious: Enemy Submersible. And, it could only be trying to do two things: Slip past the fleet or attack the IDS Diamondback.

But, the realization came too late.

2054 Zulu
Off the East Coast of Glorious Humanity
Central West Atlantic, International Waters
IDS Diamondback

"Sir, something just changed," the Sensor Officer of the Destroyer stated. "I thought I just heard a louder whoosh."

"Explain," the Captain questioned, wondering what this change could mean.

The officer wasn’t given a chance to follow the order.

"Torpedo! Torpedo! Torpedo," he yelled, informing all of the threat.

"Sound impact warning," the Captain responded, turning to return to the center of the bridge. "That bastard noise is a sub!"

"All hands, brace for impact," the Communication’s Officer was yelling over the intercom. "All hands, brace for impact!" The bridge crew, having heard the Captain’s earlier order, had already done this.

"If you get a chance," the Captain commanded his Weapon’s Officer. "Blow that sub from the water!"

Then the ship shook from the assault.

{Public Service Announcement} Fast forward to the Present.

0612 Zulu
Central Suburbs of Loren
Glorious Humanity, Nusquam Esse
Allied Command Center, Precinct 19

"My apologies on being late." An officer dressed in field combat dress and decked out with various combat equipment entered. He was well built and muscular with sandy blonde hair. Yet, it was his face that everyone saw first.

It was clear, that at one point in his life, Major Marcus Titius was a very handsome man. But, that had all been taken away from him during the Raem campaign. His face was cragged in a mighty scar that shattered the left side. It ran from the middle of his forehead, down through the hole where his left eye had once occupied (and now was covered by an red and black eye patch), all the way across his cheek, and along his neck. It was souvenir from a Raeman Dark Eldar that had not survived the war, itself.

The Major saluted those assembled, his fist slapping over his heart. "The rebels attempted to waylay my armored convoy. Apparently, they don't like it when we so blatantly drive through their territory." He seemed very pleased with himself.

Seeing a few smiles he continued, "If I may?"

A nod indicated that he could give his report. "Last night, Drakonian Interceptors were able to intercept and capture several aircraft attempting to get into this province. The captured aircraft were forced to land at Cherokee Air Base and the prisoners are being held there. So far, Intelligence has only ascertained that they are mercenaries, hired to support the rebels. Their equipment and aircraft are being inspected.

"Also last night, our task force patrolling the coast was attacked by a submersible with a silent drive. The Destroyer, IDS Diamondback, was damaged and is now returning to port in Alexandria. The status of the attacking submarine is unknown. Although, pursuit was launched, it escaped us."

The Major paused long enough to nod at one of his officer, who passed out a folder to each person attending the meeting. "In these folders are the details of both incidents, as well analysis of the rebel-allied robotic forces my forces engaged last night. These skirmishes indicate that they are a capable fighting force. My reconnaissance unit suffered heavy casualties while testing their strength. Furthermore, during the battle my forces suffered telepathic attack."

He carefully looked at each person in the room, letting this information seep in. "I need not point out the implications of that. Telepaths, either extra-national or national are supporting the fighting in the city on a limited basis, at the least."

His report finished the Major proceeded to the matters at hand. "I now have a Cohort moving into position to make contact with their heavier combat units." He had heard the information about the beleaguered Precincts. "They can be diverted to the Police Precinct being sieged, immediately. However, I am concerned about leaving them free-reign of the city."

Glorious Humanity

The 132 Angstians 'captured' by the Drakonian Air Force were surprisingly... pleaceful. They had of course destroyed most of their equipment, once it was certain that their 'plan b' wasn´t going to work, either. Of course... not everything could be reached, and telepathic disarmed doesn´t *always* work, either... So, aside from a bit of conventional stuff, and a lot of seemingly destroyed equipment, there were quite a few more... interesting things remaining, though their exact purpose was unknown (Except for the planes themselves, here, it was rather obvious)... At least for now.

They didn´t exactly resist... Apparently, their current status was ok... For them. However, apart from their nationality and employee, not much could be gathered by interrogating them.

Though a few of them were certainly attracted to their interrogator.

The open sea

Fortunately, not a single pilot had actually died... However, quite a few, ten, to be correct, of the assault squads in the transporters that had been shot down, failed to make it... One fourth of them.

It was indeed a horrible prize.

And so, they... Well, waiting, to be taken care off.

Luckily for them, there were no less than four submarines in the area (Though all of them on their way back home), and apparently, they were coming to help them, guided by the usual networks... It wouldn´t take long... And inteed, the first pilot was rescued soon enough.

Still, it would take a bit of time, especially since Caterpillar- driven submarines do not tend to excel in speed.

0613 Zulu
Off the East Coast of Glorious Humanity
Central West Atlantic, International Waters
Task Force Homeguard

The Drakonians as well were looking to rescue the down pilots from being lost at sea. The units of the guard fleet advanced, all sounding off with their active sensors. Looking, hunting, and hoping to engage those that had dogged their fleet and severly damaged the Diamondback. They as well were working actively to rescue the downed pilots, but that would be little trouble, many of the ships' crews were experienced at rescuing unfortunates during the terrible tropical storms of the Caribbean. Rescuing downed pilots in fair weather would be no trouble at all.

The only question was: who would reach the pilots first, the Drakonians or the Angstians?

"Sounds good," Major Hicks nodded. "Captain Sargos, you'll be taking your team to the precinct. I'm also putting a company of infantry under your direct command. Major Hardy-" he gestured at the female officer who had spoken earlier "-will be taking three companies of infantry as well. Captain O'Connor will take two companies of infantry and a unit of tanks, and his forces and the Lavenrunzians will go grab that armory."

"Once we resupplied the sieged precinct, we can start taking the others back," Hardy continued. "They're all built to take punishment, and they have the equipment for communications and coordination, so they'll make good forward posts for further sorties into the city."

There were nods around, and Hicks continued. "The Lavenrunzians and Drakonians will support these attacks. You'll also have air support flying from Loren International. With any luck and a little faith, this city could be ours again by sundown. Good luck ladies and gentlemen. Dismissed!"

*******************************************************

Ein met Bolan down in the precinct lobby, and his friend followed him outside. "So what are we doing?"

"We're going to relieve a police precinct that's called for assistance," Ein replied. "Stick it to the rebels and secure the area." He wished he could see Erica before going on the mission, but it seemed like that wasn't going to happen. Ah well, probably just as well. What would they talk about? Two career soldiers, bound to their countries and their duties. No time for anything else. Ein had never been bothered by not having much time for love and family before, mainly because most of his family were not his best friends anyway. The service had been all he really cared about. The service gave him action, adventure, training, and friends. Now, ironically, the service gave him love, then prevented him from taking it.

"You okay?" Bolan asked suddenly. Ein blinked, then looked at him. He realized they had already walked halfway back to the barracks.

"Yeah," Ein replied. "Just thinking."

"About her," Bolan nodded, grinning a little.

Ein groaned. "I shouldn't be, I suppose."

"Hey, you're in love," Bolan laughed, clapping him on the soldier. "A chap when he's head over heels has trouble thinking about anything else."

"I'm not in love," Ein said quickly.

"Bullshit," Bolan chuckled. "You're in love."

"Can't be," Ein replied. "After this is over, she'll go back home and I'll stay here. The same situation as before, only with the roles reversed. And then we'll only see each other when our governments happen to accidentally put us in the same place. Somewhere out there one of us may be killed, and the other would never hear about it unless they ran across somebody who knew. Not much of a future."

"There's always retirement," Bolan told him. "The service won't keep you forever, and hers probably has a cutoff too."

Ein chuckled. "Well, one can always dream I suppose."

"That's the spirit!" Bolan grinned even more broadly. "Now, quit thinking about penetrating her and start thinking about how we're going to penetrate this police station."

"Theo, you just conjured up an evil mental image," Ein told him, and they both dissolved into laughter.

*****************************************

Degrass Base
0800 Zulu (8 AM)

Captain Pelletreu marched in Colonel Stanzer's office precisely on time and saluted. Stanzer returned the salute.

"As ordered sir, I left the defense of Kilyton in my second's hand, and I am reporting here," Pelletreu told him. The Captain was not entirely pleased at being pulled back from Kilyton, but he always obeyed his orders to the letter. Stanzer no doubt had a plan of some kind, and Pelletreu knew his superior planned well.

"Excellent," Stanzer replied. "First, I have something to give you." He picked up a small black box on the table and tossed it to Pelletreu. The other man caught it and opened it. Inside were a new set of stripes. He looked up, startled.

"Get them put on your jacket," Stazner told him. "Effective immediately, I'm promoting you to Major. Your new assignment is to take a reinforcement column south to Loren and reinforce the city. The government and their allies are attempting to encircle it completely, but they don't quite have the manpower to do it. Reinforcements are pouring across the western provincial border though, so by this afternoon I think they'll have enough to make a solid blockade. I want you to move out with some mechanized and armored regiments and punch a hole before they have a chance to firm up their hold. Get into the city, take command of our forces, and don't give the enemy a single bloody inch."

"Understood sir," Pelletreu answered. "Any chance of our mindbending friends helping?"

"You can try, I suppose," Stanzer replied. "Sader's waved off all requests for aid before, except taking out the airstrike on this base."

"And what am I allowed to do to hold the city?" Pelletreu asked.

Stanzer hesitated. He knew what the man was really asking. Pelletreu was definitely unbalanced, some would say a little psychotic. He was known as ruthless and brutal, dangerous and crazy. He was an excellent strategist though, and very creative and resourceful. That was what Stanzer needed. And in order to unleash all of Pelletreu's creativity, Stanzer had to let go of the holds on his subordinate's nature as well. It was time to let go of the reins, and let the horse run.

"Do whatever you have to," Stanzer told Pelletreu.

Like a swarm of bees seeking out a new cloverfield, the helicopters eagerly swept over the growling tanks, apcs and ifvs of the 1st Imperial Marine Brigade. While the sister brigades were busy bringing up the supplies and securing the other ares of control in Loren, Colonel Letz had the task of aiding in the encirclement.
From the squadron, the 12 Feuerkatz fighter-bombers flew overhead, looking for possible targets. Everyone had heard what had happened to one of Hackelgruber’s companies, so now they were ready as if they were going to hunt wild ox in deep brush. Wary, alert but eager.
Overhead, two squadrons of Seekonig helicopters flew off towards the Police Armory, with two companies of Imperial Marines and Erica von Fischer’s Jaegers aboard. She wondered what Ein was up to. She still felt a tingling all over, and mingled with the fear-excitement of going into action again, it made her want to yell. She compensated by ritually checking all her gear. Along with them, four Valkyr helicopters were going, just in case there was another ambush. There probably will be Erica had warned her Jaegers. So when we go in, be ready to have to hump it out. This is going to be a tough show. She had no idea where she had gotten that from. It was just a feeling. This wasn’t like hitting up Iraqstani bully boys guarding a prison. This would be a lot more like going up against hardcases from the Reich or GDODAD. Whatever you could say about their zany leaders, their troops sure as shit knew what they were doing. You had to respect that—and kill them first. The marine senior was a Lieutenant-Colonel, von Jagow, who was tough as nails, though he was a hard driver, only his willingness to jump in with the other grunts keeping him from simply being a martinet.
The helicopters were going up high and then diving in, relying on satellite link up to guide them right to the target, so that they couldn’t be seen coming or heard from miles off. Rather, they were up high, the sound distorted, low lying clouds concealing their approach. Below they could see the vapours and growling mud trails of the mechanized brigade and the tank battalion of Letz’s lumbering their way to the encircling positions.
Lieutenant-Colonel von Hackelgruber was in the lead again. He was actually with the first company, though Letz had argued against it.

Loren

"Shit, this is way to hot..." Hiroshi, despite his origin, really wasn´t used to the local weather. Tropical temperatures for them, who were used to the all- year autumn in DA...

Well, it wasn´t exactly pleasent, and apparently, the other men in his group didn´t act different.

"I wonder if they have portable air conditioners..."

"Oh, shut up, Michael..."

Surprisingly enough, Michael did shut up, mostly because they had to prepare for another hard day... Well, if anything failed, they would just turn into civilians, but so far, they intended to win, here... The question was: How?

"Ok... We`re surrounded. This isn´t that much of a problem, well, not for us, our equipment would be lost... But since we want to keep it... let me see..."

Hiroshi checked the data available to him. Satellite uplinks in the spinal cord were a good thing... And they would certainly need it.

"Ok... Doesn´t look too good... We need some gap in their lines..."

"How 'bout holding our positions?"

"With what ammunition? We might manage another day, after that, our drones are useless, and we will need to use weapons captured from them. We need reinforcements."

"Well-"

Hiroshi didn`t listen, and just continued, idly wondering what would happen to the city. That buiding over there looked quite fascinating... it would be a shame to blow it up... But then, it would certainly look fascinating. I wonder if I have my cam... Yes. Perfect. "Right now, it doesn´t seem like Gandhi will be able to send said reinforcements. Apparently, Drakonian forces kind of threaten aerial transports. I`m not entirely sure if they are able to..."

Hey, sweety.

Hiroshi looked up, distracted, but he continued, quickly. "I`m not entirely sure if they can figure out another way to bring help. But I`m almost certain that our main objective is about to change, possibly to evacuate as many rebels as possible. Thusly, i`m not overly interested in staying in the city." Please, Adelé...

"I see... what about the normals supporting the rebels?" Inquired Max, a young man, perhaps twenty years old.

I miss you.

"I'm not entirely sure. But apparently, they aren´t able to win. And... I`m not sure, but there seem to be other problems as well... Looks like our superiors are in serious trouble." Please, I`m doing my job, here. And you should be at school, rather than coordinating tactical operations...

"In any case... This is my plan..."

You will need me.

Yes, I will. Later. Right now, I want you to take care of your grades. I heard bad things about them.

Feh. You can be annoying, you know that?

Please, Ade... Oh, disconnected. Even better.

The H2O desert called 'ocean'

"Full House. Thank you for playing, where is my mo-"

"Four Kings."

The three men in the raft looked at the women in front of them that was busy counting her winnings.

"It is a pleasure to play with you, gentlemen."

"F*cking b-"

The woman chuckled. "Watch your language, my dear."

The man, who had just lost every single credit he had had, wanted to continue, but suddenly, the raft shaked, as something... arrived.

The vast, black and grey body of the submarine was impressive, at least compared to the raft, though they were amazed that they didn´t notice it earlier... Ah, yes, they had cut off communications for their game.

"Yay. Rescued by a submarine without a crew. Looks like it will be a really boring trip... I hope you guys still have some money left?"

"Oh, for gods sake..."

With a smile, she jumped onto the submarine, satisfied. Two more days and I have enough for my holidays...

Volcano Island, Gandhi Security Solutions

"So... The submarines are returning?"

"Yes." Gandhi didn´t seem to be happy. Indeed, he was more than just 'a bit' annoyed. "They are a bit too expensive to risk over such a matter. Our data is rather accurate, they will escape... Well, one is probably at risk, if the Drakonians are really lucky."

"Ok..." Suttner looked at him, her hawk- like eyes almost closed. "How about the pilots and assault teams?"

"Rescued all of them 'cept one group. Too close to Drakonian Forces."

"Ok... How many?"

"Sixteen."

"Feh... That`s a lot."

"Indeed, it is. They might even have a chance..." Gandhi didn´t continue, but it was rather obvious what he meant.

"You think so?"

"Certainly"

Now, Suttner grinned, too. "Well... Could be fun."

En route to Loren
1000 Zulu (10 AM)

Major Pelletreu was feeling good as he stared out from the hatch of an M1A1 Abrams tank at the surrounding countryside. Pretty, very pretty. He'd actually grown up on the west coast and moved to this area when he was an adult, but he liked it here better. Warmer and less crowded.

He lifted a small handheld radio to his lips and pressed the talk button. "Corporal, you raised the Academy yet?"

"Affirmative sir," Corporal Holly Collins answered from her comms truck a few vehicles back in the column. "Sader is waiting for you."

"Signal column halt," Pelletreu ordered. "I'll be back there in a minute."

"Yes sir."

*************************************************************

The Academy

"Good morning, Mr. Sader."

"I am speaking to Major Pelletreu, am I?" Sader asked needlessly. He was standing in the Academy's comms room, which had amazingly recovered from the temporary breakdown it had suffered when the revolt was beginning. It was now fully operational again. Sader, Holmes, and a few of their lieutenants were here. Sader was speaking into a headset microphone while his people manned the comm controls. Holmes was standing next to her lover, listening in as best she could to the conversation.

"You are," Pelletreu answered over the radio. "I'm calling cause I'm taking a few rebel soldiers for a little jaunt down to Loren, and since I lack any airplanes I could use somebody watching the skies for me."

"How many rebels are moving?" Sader asked.

"Well, I managed to talk my boss into giving me a division of armor, and several regiments of fighting men," Pelletreu answered. "Make that about seven hundred and fifty attack vehicles of various kinds and descriptions, and about thirteen hundred infantrymen. I've got the first wave with me, thirty tanks, a couple hundred infantry."

One of Sader's lieutentants who was listening through another pair of headphones whistled softly. Sader shared a look with Holmes, then spoke again. "That's quite a force you're planning to move in. And you want us watching the skies over them?"

"Precisely," Pelletreu answered. "We're going to need time to get these forces into place. I imagine most of the afternoon and possibly some of the night as well. That much force does not move quickly. Unless they've all been struck blind I can practically guarantee the government forces will spot us. They don't have enough ground troops to harass us, but they could certainly ruin our day with planes."

Sader smirked a little. "Alright. We'll ruin their day instead. Get that city for us, Major."

"Will do. Much obliged."

*************************************************************

Two blocks from Precinct 24

The area was strangely quiet, save for the fires and occaisional fuel explosions from cars and such. It looked like a battle had been fought here not too long ago, but the combatants were gone, save for those who had died. Ein's company saw plenty of corpses, some in camo, some in police blue. It was the silence that was unnerving though. Ein had expected to be hearing gunfire from the precinct, hell he could see the precinct just a short distance ahead. The streets here were all broad, four lanes wide, making it easy for the company to advance despite the battle debris.

"Quiet, ain't it?" Bolan commented from Ein's left.

"Yeah. Bothering you too?" Ein asked.

"Damned right it is. Where's our playmates?"

"Maybe they finished an assault attempt and are regrouping," Ein thought out loud. "Maybe we got lucky and we're getting to move through a quiet window."

"Well, that's the optimistic slant," Bolan agreed.

The thumping of rotors overhead mde them both glance up to see the Lavenrunzian helicopters swooping overhead. They didn't seem to be pausing, so their bird's-eye view apparantly didn't see anything either. That was good news at least.

*************************************************************

PFC Killeson lay flat inside a building just ahead of the government soldiers, doing his best to not be visible at all to the choppers passing overhead. The building he was in was a restaurant, only one story, but with stairs to the roof, which was outfitted for people to dine out in the open. At the moment there was a mortar team waiting by the door, also staying low to avoid notice. They were waiting for the signal to attack, which would be when the first large pieces farther back in the city opened up.

The government troops were approaching a four-way intersection that came just before the precinct. Killeson's hiding place was a block from that intersection, well within range of all the weapons that were about to be used. The large artillery pieces had already been trained on the intersection.

Twenty feet away from Killeson, another rebel soldier peeked over the edge of the window he was hiding under, then spoke into a radio. A moment later the same soldier stood up, no longer attempting to conceal himself, stuck his fingers in his mouth, and blew a piercing whistle.

*************************************************************

Ein heard the attack whistle quite clearly as his company entered the intersection, then heard an answer from the other direction. He got a sinking feeling right as more whistles answered, and the streets to the left and right of his forces suddenly exploded with rebel soldiers.

They came pouring out of the buildings, charging from both sides, firing from the hip as they caught the government forces in a pincer. Then as the attack whistles stopped, Ein heard new, worse whistles, just before the intersection erupted in artillery explosions. The bombing from the large pieces was supplemented quickly by mortar shells as the mortar teams that had been hiding dashed to their positions and started firing. Ein's company couldn't retreat, Major Hardy's forces coming up behind them cut off that option, but the other companies were not yet close enough to join the suddenly erupting battle.

Ein looked forward. One block to the precinct. Only one thing to do. "Get to the police station!" He yelled to his scattering troops, waving them forward as he started running. They had to get out of the intersection fast.

1004 Zulu
Central Suburbs of Loren
Glorious Humanity, Nusquam Esse
Command Convoy

"--and Command is preparing several Cohorts of the 9th Armored Legion for possible deployment. In case the rebels are able to successfully feild any heavy armor." Major Titius' aide was giving him a very in-depth report of the latest communiques from Drakonia. "Their still working on analyzing the rebel's strength, but they think its unlikely they could gain the kind of popular support to have anything that--"

"Mortar," the driver of the IFV yelled suddenly as he recognized the thud and whistle of what was coming.

"Hades!" The projectile collided on the hood above the driver's side wheel well. It exploded, flipping the entire vehicle forward and over. It landed upside down, stopping dead in the middle of the convoy supposed to be protecting it.

"Ambush," the Drakonian soldiers were screaming. Gunfire exploded everywhere, from the building lining the street, to the Drakonian Attack Helicopters fluttering about the air. Followed by the thud and whistle of more mortar rounds.

1006 Zulu
Off the East Coast of Glorious Humanity
Central West Atlantic, International Waters
IDS Adiutrix

"Sir," Seaman Laetonius reported. "I see something." He was scanning the waves for the survivors of the air battle with a pair of high-powered binoculars. "It's almost on the horizon, looks like one of the survivor's boats and...something big and black."

"Let me see." The Seaman handed over the binoculars to Ensign Flavius. It took a minute but he founded it. "Hard to say from hear but it looks like it. That could be a submarine." He quickly informed the bridge.

The Adiutrix ("Helper" in Drakonian) earned its name, in that discovery. A message was quickly relayed via direct LASER Communications to the IDS Kraken, an Alpha-Class Fast Attack Submarine at a northern position to the unidentified contact. The submarine was soon under full power speeding at 45 Knots toward the possible target. It was still a distance away and even with the active scanning of the fleet too near the surface to be detected by sonar.

The enemy could run or hide, both likely options could be used for the ship to successfully escape.

OOC: Detailed information on my fleet (except new ship, recently built) Imperial Drakonian Navy (http://invisionfree.com/forums/United_Emirates/index.php?showtopic=20). Hope this is helpful, cause I know you were looking for intel DA.

Highway No. 3 Overpass

Lieutenant-Colonel von Hackelgruber’s recon vehicles sat looking like gigantic tropical beetles—all horns and antennae and armor—on the bridge and were scattered on the highway and city road junctures. Not far off was a large shopping center, and a few small buildings, which Hackelgruber had requested some helicopters to land snipers and scouts on. As he stood high out of the commander’s hatch, peering with binoculars along the outer districts of Loren, he could see them hovering in, probably going to arrive in a few minutes. It had been slower progress than he would have liked; suspicion of another ambush had had his company commanders halting now and then to send infantry scouts forward—a task they grimly took to without pleasure but with marine grit nonetheless. Now he reported that he had achieved an excellent command position, that controlled a conjunction of roads and moreover gave him a clear view of about four square kilometers of city. Colonel Letz had replied encouragingly; had ordered him to start doing a sweep of the area and let the rest of the brigade get a bit caught up. He didn’t need to be told to put mortar vehicles and signals vehicles in good positions. The former to be able to bombard in support readily. The second to possibly catch any enemy signals or at least be unimpeded for intel from the satellites.

The 1st Imperial Marine Brigade, Main Body

Wary of flanking attacks and surprises, Letz was moving steadily but not swiftly. Some areas that she doubted helicopter recon of she had tanks and apcs growling through with infantry marching alongside, their eyes keenly sweeping left and right—and up and down, come to that. She was receiving numerous reports, which were disturbing her. The fact that they had not yet run into any delaying tactics, coupled with the fact that the enemy were professionals, meant one most likely thing: that the previous attacks had been probes and that a much larger attack to drive them away from the city would likely take place. General Dietrich was dubious; the satellite sweep and Glorious Humanity’s planes had not indicated any large enemy movements. But she was wary nevertheless.

The Raid

As the squadron of helicopters came in from the fog and cloud cover above down on the area of the station, small arms fire could clearly be seen below.
“Hang on.” Erica’s pilot said grimly. She clenched her teeth. It never ceased to amaze her how the pilots of these big metal birds would dodge and weave among one another, jockeying for landing space, maneuvering from ground fire---though they hadn’t taken any yet. But she could see two of the Valkyrs flash by the Fledermauss she was in and dive down to seek and destroy. They clearly had no visible targets yet; their gatling guns and missile racks had not fired a shot.

14th and Sheridan

Blood pumping in his ears. The deafening roar of continuous gunfire. The whistle of mortar shells. Screams and defiant cries. Get to the precinct.

All around him were running soldiers, dashing towards the hopeful safety of the police station. Ein didn't see anyone emerging from the station, though he was desperately hoping to see blue uniforms appearing at any moment. They needed some help badly.

Twenty yards to the precinct. Not that far, they could make it. They would make it. They didn't have a choice.

*************************************************************

Killeson felt a surge of adrenaline that propelled him forward alongside his fellow rebels, his heavy machine gun one of the few weapons not firing. He ran to his assigned post, outside an alleyway between two buildings near the intersection, and dropped to one knee to aim his heavy weapon.

They were shorthanded for this assault, so he had to feed the machine gun himself. Grabbing the trigger in one hand, and setting the ammo box next to the gun, he started firing.

*************************************************************

Ein was one of the first out of the intersection, and out of the lethal crossfire. As soon as he reached a building he stopped and turned around, pressing against concrete wall. It wasn't the precinct, and he couldn't tell what it was, he crouched there, waving his men past.

They needed some help fast. He could see what the rebels were doing now. As the intersection was vacated of Ein's soldiers, the rebels were swarming in to cut them off and block Hardy's forces from reaching the precinct. Overhead he saw the Lavenrunzian choppers wheeling and diving, preparing to drop off their passengers into the fight.

And then, from the crowd of rebels, he saw long white tubes trailing smoke clouds leap into the sky and race towards the choppers. Before he could see if any were hit, the ground a few feet away exploded, the shock of the blast bowling him over. He quickly checked himself over and found no serious injuries, thankfully.

"Radio!" He yelled. "Where's my radio?"

He spotted his radioman across the street. The young man with the comm set on his back had heard him and was running across as fast as he could. Then he jerked spasmodically, and Ein knew what had happened even before he saw the red splash spreading across the soldier's chest. The radioman jerked again and again as more rounds slammed into him, then he fell to the ground and lay there unmoving.

"Shit," Ein breathed. He had to get that radio. Having gotten out of the intersection, the survivors from his company had begun taking cover among the vehicles on Sheridan Street and in alleyways, trying to regroup and fight back at the same time.

Just as he was about to stand up, a body slammed into the wall beside him and sank down next to him. It was Bolan. Ein could see his Sergeant was only winded, not injured. He'd just had to stop fast. Thank God.

"We need our radio!" Ein shouted over the din, pointing out at the dead radioman in the street. "I'm going for it!"

"No, stay in cover!" Bolan shouted back. "I'll get it. Cover me." Ein nodded and as Bolan set himself to run, he prepared to make for a mailbox five feet away.

"Ready, set, go!" Ein shouted. Bolan took off like a sprinter running fast and low to the ground as Ein took three steps to the mailbox, crouched behind it and started firing over it.

Bolan kept his eyes fixed on the radio. He knew he would have only a couple seconds to strip the set off the dead man's back and get back behind cover. Faster, faster, he fought with his body for more speed.

Suddenly, Bolan's side exploded in pain. He realized somebody had gotten lucky, but he didn't have time to check if he was shot or just bruised. He couldn't tell with all the adrenaline pumping through his system. Then nother blast of pain, in his shoulder, and another slammed into his leg. he lost his footing and collapsed, his hands flailing out to catch him, and he felt one go right under his arm and straight through his chest. He actually felt the bullet pass through his body and lodge somewhere in his chest.

He hit the asphalt hard, spitting blood. But he couldn't spit all the blood out, it was suddenly pouring from his mouth. He looked forward through eyes that suddenly seemed to be dimming, and started pulling himself along with his arms. The radio.

He... had... to... get... the... radio...

*************************************************************

Ein risked a glance towards Bolan, and his blood turned to ice. "No!"

It all happened in slow motion. Ein saw his friend jerk, fall, crawl a foot or so, and then stop moving. He stared, dumbfounded, then shook his head. This wasn't the time, not the time to cry or be upset. He could do that later.

Bolan hadn't gotten the radio. Now Ein had to get it himself. He looked out at the rebels, stopping his shooting so they wouldn't be looking in his direction. He crouched behind the mailbox, closed his eyes, and counted to ten slowly. Then he opened them, looked at the radio, and ran for it.

The radio was thirty feet away. He had to get to it.

*************************************************************

PFC Killeson advanced a few steps at a time, pausing to fire periodically. Now he was almost in the intersection, crouched at a corner near one of the streetlight poles. He was shooting at the enemy company further up Sheridan, putting burts into cars, towards alleys, anywhere he saw flashes of gunfire.

Wait! Over there, a government soldier breaking from cover behind a mailbox and running. Killeson panned left, and spotted the dead radioman. The government guy was trying to get the radio!

He swung back and reoriented on the running figure, moving his sights a little ahead to lead his target just like he'd been trained to do, and squeezed the trigger.

*************************************************************

Ein felt the first round slammed hard into his thigh. Heavy caliber of some kind. He stumbled, and that's when two more hit him in the hip, and one hit him in the gut.

No, no way. I am NOT dying out here!

But his legs were failing him, and he couldn't run. He tripped and saw the ground rush up to meet him. He wasn't even able to get his hands out in time and hit the ground facefist. Ein's world disappeared into blackness as his body rolled three feet and then lay unmoving.

*************************************************************

Two streets away

Two streets away, Major Hardy could hear the explosions and shooting up ahead. Her radio was crackling with a steady stream of reports from her troops at the front line.

"Radio!" she barked, and her radioman was right beside her a second later. She grabbed the handset. "Hardy to Base, requesting air support at the intersection of 14th and Sheridan Streets. The rebels have cut off Captain Sargos's company and are blockading the intersection. Repeat, air support to 14th and Sheridan!"

"Copy Hardy," base answered after a moment. "We're informing the Lavenrunzian choppers and launching some of our own. Just hang in there."

1011 Zulu
Central Suburbs of Loren
Glorious Humanity, Nusquam Esse
Command Convoy

Major Titius sputtered as he regained conciousness, blood draining from his mouth. There seemed terrible pressure in his head and it took him several minutes to realize it was because he was upside down suspended from his seat. He head hurt horribly and he almost passed out again.

The sudden explosion of a mortar forcing him to regain his edge. He struggled weakly with his seatbelt, but it was stuck. He fealt trapped the remains of his vehicle closing him in; cramped, with no room to move, to fight.

Gunfire blasts sounds loudly again, and again. Seeming to come from nowhere and then everywhere.

Finally, the Major was able to reached his knife cut himself free, only to be stunned as he slammed into what remained of the vehicles' crushed roof. At second later his eyes landed on the suspeded driver. The man was clearly dead, a piece of scrapnel having skewered him to his own seat.

A loud explosion and the sound of a crumbling building was heard and then the sound of a pistol firing repeated. Automatic rifle fire cut off the sound of the pistol. More gunfire and then more gunfire. Another mortar whistled and exploded. The rotors of a helicopter were heard above and then the sound of it's 20mm Cannon sounding off. War, battle everywhere.

The moan of a wounded soldier. The Major didn't realize immediately it was himself.

"Sir, you alright." Someone had just run up to the wrecked and upside down IFV. The Major grunted an affirmative. "Stay put, Sir. We're stuck until support arrives."

"Like Hades I will," the Major replied, trying to straight himself out and open his battered door. It was jammed and he struggled with it.

Bullets suddenly rattled the armor of the IFV, their pinging ringing throughout the vehicle. The soldier who had spoken to the Major replied in kind, his rifle firing out into the battle.

It seemed for the moment they were trapped.

1013 Zulu
Western Suburbs of Loren
Glorious Humanity, Nusquam Esse
Leading Elements, 2nd Cohort

There was a thunderous blast and the thick whistle of a large shell sailing through the air. The shell flew from the barrel of the tank that fired it flew down the wide street and across an intersection slamming full into a building (much of which crumbled under the assault).

"The calvary has arrived!" There was much yelling over the radio channels, some even announcing the arrival of the Drakonian 2nd Cohort to support the government troops; some necessary, some not. "Da-dadant-da-da, CHARGE!"

"Benny, shut up and fight!"

The two lead heavy tanks rolled forward side-by-side, separate apparate enough to provide cover for the Drakonian troops advancing with them. The first had already fired, it wasn't long before the second replied as well.

"Yes, Sarge."

Behind the tanks something else rounded the corner of a side street and advanced with them, its gun turret was tall enough to rise just above the turrets of the tanks and fire over them, which it did. The gun was a large mounted gatling turret, it spun slowly at first, then gained in speed. Then it opened fire, deeply strings of bullets tearing into the fronts of building or the protective cover of the attacking rebels.

http://67.18.37.14/118/74/upload/p672689.jpg

"Get me fire support on that enemy artillery," the Cohort Commander was ordering from a distance off. He watched the battle from a third floor hotel room balcony, using his binoculars to see clear the destruction wraught at the intersection. He knew if the artillery was not located and destroyed the chances of taking the Police Station were very little. His armor was also exposed and easily picked off by the enemy artillery. His only hope was his Battalions Artillery, if their targets could be located fast enough.

“Watch it—rockets!” cried a voice in Erica’s pilot’s ear. The helicopter suddenly lurched violently; cursing, she and the others rolled in the chopper as it dove like a wounded goose, and a howling shrieking sound was heard. The loudest bang she thought she’d ever heard—in fact, her ears rang, and she was looking at what seemed to be a different vehicle interior, which so disoriented her that she just stared, then realized that she was in fact looking at the floor. That was when she vomited. The helicopter tilted again, and alarmingly she saw a building rush by awfully close at a strange angle. There was some kind of fine mist leaking in the air.
There were all kinds of holes pouring light at odd angles inside the helicopter. Some of her team were just not moving...in fact, she realized that what appeared to be cloth laced heaps of butcher’s meat and torn up guts were some of the team. She wanted to scream and never stop. Instead. She began to check her body...to her relief, she had neither pissed herself nor was she bleeding profusely. It was someone else’s blood. “We’re still in the game!” she shouted. “Let’s get ready! Open that door!” she barked at the tailgunner, who cringed as if from a lunatic and did. Air and light rushed at them, and they went howling like savages out the door into the mayhem.
Up above them, a Valkyr pivoted with a sort of metallic arrogance into position and opened fire with its twin 20mm gatling guns at one of the buildings the rockets had come from, the uranium tipped ammunition actually causing sparks to fly from the bricks as they were torn up. The other was launching its own rockets at another designated area.
Two helicopters had been blown to smithereens; another had lost a tail rotor and had crashed elsewhere; the pilot and passengers were moaning, still in a daze, some actually dead.

[ooc: Drakonia made a mistake, and I decided that the mistake allowes for a more amusing thing than what I originally intended. I might even edit my previous post to bring stuff in order... Some time...]

The sea

Susanne (This being the name of the woman) looked up. "What did you say?"

They know about our position.

"Crap."

The three men with her (playing poker, as usual) nodded.

The good news. The Drakonians did apparently change their position. Endangered unit #7 was able to save a major group of castaways.

The woman sighed, looking at the (slightly luminiscent) ceiling. "And so... we are endangered, yes?"

Yes.

"F*ck it. Ok, next round. I think we will leave the rest to you, Joey."

Joey would have nodded, if he could do it. Of course, being a submarine (Or at least, being the core of one) made this slightly problematic.

The game was... Complicate, to say the least. Now that the Drakonians knew their position, it wouldn´t be hard to check the area with satellites, finding the distortions in the water created by his vast body... They could hunt him down.

Uplink... Delta- satellite hive

Connection established.

Display tactical information.

In Joey's mind, a map was formed, showing him the necessary information.

Tactical analysis...

And it was a delicate situation, to say the least. It had some advantages, and it could possibly escape... But it was significantly slower than the object that did, apparently, hunt it. In the end... it would depend. If Joey was lucky, the Drakonian support vessels, which would likely try to narrow down the sector he could move in, would make a mistake... Then he would escape, despite the superior speed of his main opponent.

However, if he wasn`t lucky, they would likely hunt him down...

Well, if necessary, he could still fight. In any case, it would certainly be interesting.

Highway No. 3 Overpass

Eventually, The Lavenrunzian Retcon unit catched... something. It were certainly satellite signals, supposed to reach this area... And only this area. Loren.

They were encoded, heavily encoded, that much was certain, and decoding them would be excessively difficult, if possible at all. And it was certainly impossible for sucha small unit with a lot of other jobs to do.

However, there was something else... There were... weaker signals, then, whole parts seemed to miss. Perhaps backchecking with SATO- encoding procedures would identify the signals. Angstian origin, TAGCPm (Telepathically Assisted Global Communications Protocol (Military)). Unknown encoding procedure.

[ooc: This is basically for the interrogation thingy with Drakonia, which has yet to happen. Please no big things in the immediate replies]

Loren

Hiroshi had talked to the rebels... or at least he had tried it. The information he had got hadn`t been too detailed... But he could work with it, and with what the reconnaissance back home told him, he was relatively sure as of what would happen next...

Now, he didn´t really want to stay in the city... But hey... Perhaps they did have a chance... Though not in direct combat... His intentions were slightly different.

Unfortunately, orders were orders, and he couldn`t really ignore them... Well, actually, he could, but he didn´t like the idea of being unemployed/ sued.

So now they were here.

Ready.

Nobody spoke a work. Their communication happened either telepathically or by way of their implants, both options having their advantages.

A helicopter...

Go.

It was likely that they had been spotted, or rather, their larger combat drones, their heat signature basically impossible to miss. Of course, this was the reason this drones stood elsewhere, with a minimum group for close range defence.

The rest... was elsewhere. Close, but not too close, hidden in the streets, the buildings... the city.

Their advantage was, again, their speed. They were always moving.

And now it begun.

The mortars were first, then the drones moved... this time, accompanied by their operators, making sure than the enemy would have trouble in close combat.

Slowly... Area 6... Area 4... Area fifteen... combat unit identified... Fire.

And so it went on, their individual minds being overridden, the whole group nothing but a single organism... No black spots, no one was supposed to hide from them.

A missile, reaching up into the sky... An explosion, one of the drones losing a leg, lying down, malfunctioning, still firing...

Tactical fire, trying to keep the airspace clean from interferencve, always using every possible cover to prevent being eradicated from above...

And again, retreat, as soon as the resistance rises, their job being to distract the loyalist forces, to make them fight on two fronts without really risking anything, too keep the station... For the rebels.

14th and Sheriden

"Major Hardy, report." The voice on the other end sounded very tense.

"Situation unchanged," Hardy replied. "Sargos' company is cut off, we can't reach them or raise them. Aerial bombardment is intense, but the rebels are shooting back at the choppers, and we've lost some. Furthermore, the rebels are pouring reinforcements in. I swear, they must be throwing everything in this part of the city at us."

"I can believe it. Base out."

**********************************************************

Command Center

"Dammit," Hicks muttered, staring at the map table. "What are they doing?"

The collection of paper maps had been replaced with a large LCD electronic map table that had been just brought in and set up. Mounted on four solid steel legs, the table was a two foot thick coordinate map of Loren. Hooked into recon sat feeds and radio communications, the table used all the information given it to plot the positions of all known units, to within fifty feet. Government and allied forces were displayed in blue, rebels in red, and unidentified in white. The unidentified were mostly civilians, and thankfully white concentrations were a good distance from the messes of red and blue that indicated battles. There were two major concentrations of red and blue right now, one a couple blocks from the rebel armory, and the other right in front of Precinct 24. It really did look like the rebels were throwing everything they had into those two locations.

"Why do they care so much about one police station?" he wondered. "The armory I get, but one station?"

Then his attention was diverted. A recon sat holding position over the city had just updated the map. A big red dot had just appeared behind the small blue one representing Sargos' now-surrounded company.

"Radio, can you raise Sargos yet?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"No sir," the radioman set up in one corner replied. "Think they might've lost their radio."

"Well why don't they find another?" Hicks growled, watching the console with apprehension. He could see what was coming.

**********************************************************

In front of Precinct 24

A constant, continuous roar filled Lieutenant Oliver Peterson's ears, a mix of explosions, screams, orders, and neverending gunfire. Captain Sargos was gone, Peterson didn't know what had happened. Crouched behind a crashed police car, he tried to figure out what to do next.

"Sir!" A sergeant was next to him now. At least the troops were organized enough to remember the chain of command. With Captain Sargos gone, Lieutenant Peterson was next.

"Report!" Peterson commanded.

"We're torn up bad," the sergeant reported. "No radio, a bunch of unaccounted for soldiers, lotsa dead, lots more wounded."

"Any word on the captain?"

"We found him, if that's what you're asking." The sergeant hesitated. "He's been shot up bad. He's unconcious and bleeding badly. He's not the only one either. We need evac, sir!"

"Radio?" Peterson asked.

"Can't find the radioman sir. Probably dead." The sergeant was about to say more when he was interrupted by shocked shouts, coupled with a sudden roar of victorious calls. Both men looked down the street in the direction of the sound. Peterson's heart sunk.

Rebel reinforcements were pouring down the street, surrounding the remains of Ein Sargos' company. The government soldiers were trying to react, moving around to present a line to the charging enemy, but Peterson could already see it was useless. They were about to be swarmed under.

He looked around for an escape. Any escape. Alleys, the surrounding buildings, various wrecked cars, the precinct... the precinct.

Peterson turned back to the sergeant. "Gather our wounded. We're moving."

**********************************************************

Command Center

Hicks watched the red advance. There wasn't a damn thing he could do. No warning. No reinforcement. No rescue. All he could do was watch as the red slid over the blue, devouring it like a shark seizing a small fish.

And then the blue of Sargos' men vanished.

1014 Zulu
Imperial Drakonian Armed Forces Command
Drako Throne, Drakonian Imperium
Conference Room Alpha

"Sir, if I may--"

"Lets just continue the briefing shall we," General Long interrupted. "I have already ordered General Stormrider to have his units keep 1st Battalion fully supplied, as well as securing the border. In fact, I believe the General was going to update us on just that." The commander of the Imperial Drakonian Armed Forces looked expectantly at the main on one of the monitors.

"Yes," the aging soldier confirmed. His face was rough, like one who worked in the sun all his life, cragged with age, and tops by a thinning head of silver hair. His face seemed thicker than most, but one could tell that had to do with his decent more than anything else, and it was clear that once it had been much more gaunt. When he proceeded, his voice was deep, and sounded of the authority of age. There was also an accent that seemed slightly different than an average Drakonian.

"3rd Battalion has deployed along the length of the border from the mountains to the coast," the Cherokee tribesman informed. "Supported by 2nd Battalion which is in the process of deploying into Glorious Humanity to secure a supply line straight to Loren. They will be using the highway to accomplish this and we should be able to keep the 1st well equipped and manned. I have of course, informed the Glorious Human authorities of this support action."

"The situation in Loren has grown serious," one of the officer’s piped in the briefing piped in. "The rebel forces have launched a full-scale counterattack in the city. From the harried report I received from Major Titius’ second-in-command, the Major’s convoy was intercepted by guerilla fighters around the same time the rebel forces struck back at government forces attempting to secure a police station."

"And now satellite intelligence indicates a large armor column," another added. "Moving in to reinforce the rebel positions in the city, with the possible intend of a full-scale counteroffensive."

"And Plain’s Bluff," one of the General’s asked. "What of the investigation there?"

Another monitor, this one with a much younger face, and clearly someone not in military garb, spoke up in reply. "We have managed to locate video footage of what appears to be the suspect’s leaving the town in a silver automobile." The Drakonian Intelligence Agency (DIA) operative paused clearly not wanting to continue. "It headed south. At this time, we believe it likely that they...

...crossed the border into Glorious Humanity."

{Somewhere in Glorious Humanity in the foothills of Golanus Mountains}

The silver sedan lead the convoy of black SUVs and a van deeper along the dirt road, until they seemed to be at the feet of the mighty mountains range that spanned nearly the entire length of the border of Glorious Humanity, from the plains of the Drakonian Imperium, all the way to the coast that it shared with Tersanctus ran these mighty mountains. But north of here was the most dense and mountainous of this range, the region known as Shinzo Golanus. Long occupied by the Drakonian Imperium.

The people of this region had long been aggressive, independent, and violent. The Imperium had in fact been formed as an alliance to fight off the raiding Golan Tribes. Tersanctus had even been conquered by these peoples for a while, but their chaotic and violent nature had in the end been their undoing. Now it was a civilized region, for the most part.

As the vehicles slowed to a halt, as if right on cue, a line of horses made its way down a steep path leading upward and northward. They filed onto the dirt road an odd mix of modern and ancient. Many of the group looked like ancient mountain men, while others could easily have passed as Drakonian. Still a few of them looked much different. There were three Asians among the group, all dressed in dark clothing. They had a dark air about them.

One of these approached the silver sedan. "Ready for our missions," he reported.

Stepping out of the sedan, another man, this one Caucasian, signaled the riders. "Load up," he commanded, gesturing to the two SUVs and the Van. "Everything you’ll need is in the vehicles."

http://67.18.37.14/118/74/upload/p37.jpg

Not waiting for them to react, he returned to his vehicle, the Japanese man followed and so did one of the rough-looking riders. The sedan was the first vehicle to fully load and moved. It made a turn on the road and drove on past the convoy, quickly leaving it behind.

The next in line, a red SUV, was quickly loaded, and it too moved ahead. But this one did not turn it instead drove forward following the dirt road to wherever it would lead.

The remaining vehicles were also loaded, and they too headed out. All turning around heading east, but it was not long before they too split up, and all were lost in the expanse a nation in turmoil.

1015 Zulu
Off the East Coast of Glorious Humanity
Central West Atlantic, International Waters
IDS Kraken

The rush of water and the dampened rattling and creaking of metal seemed all but overpowering as the Alpha-Class Fast Attack Submarine down right sprinted toward its prey. The Alpha-Class had been designed for speed and right now the ship was using ever bit available. Traveling at well over 40 knots the sub-surface vessels was one of the fastest non-cavitation vessels in the world. And as such it made a lot of noise when hauling flat out, so loud in fact that the ship’s own sonar was useless.

"Status," the submarine’s commander ordered.

"We’re 15 seconds away from target zone," the navigation officer informed.

"Slow to stop on my command," the captain ordered.

"Aye, Sir," the first officer confirmed.

And for those fifteen long seconds they waited. The submarine continuing to rattle and creak, although those sounds were much quieter than the whooshing of the water they were displacing. And the time was up.

"Slow to stop," the captain ordered in rapid succession. "Full sensor sweep. I want that sub!"