NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This is the IC thread of the war that threatens to engulf whole continents. If you want, you can join in at any point. The reasons should seem fairly obvious for doing so. Any OOC comments or complaints should be posted HERE (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=371400&page=1&pp=15). Enjoy!

IC:

--4AM, at sea, 9 November 2004--

The attacks came out of seemingly nowhere.

At dawn, dozens of shells pounded the beaches of Falastur and Samtopia, tearing up ground and buildings alike. Planes screamed overhead, dropping their deadly cargo over the area, blackening the sky with their numbers.

It was unprecedented. No warning had come, no formal declaration or war had been received by either nation. The fragile cease-fire that had kept Falastur safe from the Dregrukian wrath seemed to have expired. No reason was apparent for the attack.

The planning must have been under preparation for months. The sheer volume of ships that had been rallied was unreal.

--Ghastopol, same time--

The Dregruk Military Command had sent out the order for the bombardment a few minutes earlier. A dozen uniformed men sat around a large table, with maps of Falastur and Samtopia spread out in front of them. A dozen radio operators worked feverishly to relay the messages from the ships, giving detailed descriptions of the first few moments of the biggest war in Dregruk's history.

Twenty-two men, total command authority & years of near mutinous morale levels, an army that trains but never acts, is one that strains on its leash heavily enough to topple its owner, created a potent concoction of crushing isolation & yet an inexhaustible energy that infected every waking thought of these men.
Hence the deployments abroad to develop economic independence for their sector of operations & so here they were again running another small time narcotics operation in one of millions of cities that could of been anywhere, as cities went it was pretty pathetic with the usual rich/poor divide being fairly pronounced here.
Perfect to operate in & perfect to export the merchandise out of & in to every willing merchandisers arms.

They lived fairly separately, quiet lives that were only interrupted by the freedoms their isolation granted them & the necessity of conducting business to fund their retirement, operations & personal quirks.

Tag for later reply

OOC: Note for those who don't know much about Falasturian geography - Falastur's capital is in the Falastur Island Group, and naturally it's the centre of Falastur in most every way. However, Falastur is also consists of a few other land masses, and one is larger than the others - Crealir. It's in Crealir that the attack was made. That doesn't matter much in this post, but it'll likely come into play later.

IC: Everywhere there was screaming, crying, panic, terror, as the shells smashed into the coastal settlements now under bombardment. It seemed like every building for 20 miles was ablaze or in ruins. Valiantly firecrews rushed around the area trying vainly to stifle the blazes, but there was little hope of containing it. Some poor engines came under the brutal bombardment as they worked, throwing metal and firemen down streets and into battered walls. The Province of Havela was in chaos.

Up in the North of Crealir, Havela is an insignificant part of Crealir. A desnely populated commercial and industrial centre, yet of no strategic advantage, Havela was the perfect place to strike Falastur for an opening act in a war. The vast majority of Falastur's military was spread around in other areas, in more tactically preferable Provinces. The fragile peace had had the Falasturian military on constant call, and as a result, their forces were all over Falasturian territory, desperately attempting to give it cover from any attacks. In this, they had made a great mistake - it had only taken a little deceit and fast work to slip in through a gap in the defenses. The Dregruk fleet had appeared several days after a patrolling fleet had left Havelan waters, and now they had an almost undefended target. The Province, one of the smallest in Falastur, had only a few thousand regular troops stationed there, only two squadrons of F/A-22A Raptor fighters and a handful of light coastal defence vessels, not nearly strong enough to take on the larger ships facing them. It seemed none of them had any chance of fighting off the Dregruk fleet.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Sir! We have reports of a massive bombardment in Havela! Multiple Dregruk ships appeared from nowhere! They slipped in through a gaping hole in our naval patrols!"

A look of panic thrown across his face, Corporal Montgomery had seen a war between Falastur and Dregruk on the horizon, yet had never expected the massive shock of receiving the news of the opening shots. A mere channel operator in the Falasturian military HQ in a secret location in the Falastur Island Group, Montgomery suddenly felt as if he were in the front line himself. The adrenalin rush, weak knees, panic, fear, desperation, it all felt like the attack was on him, not on a Province hundreds of miles away. Colonel Marks, supervising the room, turned to face the Corporal, swore and reached for his comm. All around the room, screens switched to satellite pictures of the Dregruk fleet, to tactical displays, to reports flooding in from the military bases.

Admiral Tessela! This is urgent! We've got reports of a sudden attack on Havela! It's almost completely undefended!"

Within seconds, floods of military staff had rushed in the room. There was hurried, frightened, conversation from all around the room.

Admiral Tessela, Commander in Chief of the Falasturian forces, immediately took control of the situation, calling questions and orders to other servicemen in the room.

"Private! What of our forces in Havela?"

"Few and far between, Sir. We are showing only light attack on the army base at the moment, but all coastal defense vessels have been destroyed, and our 2 Raptor Squadrons have been cut down attempting to attack the fleet."

"Lieutenant! Where is our nearest fleet?"

"Sir, there's a patrol flotilla only 50 miles away, but it's too weak to engage and defeat the Dregruk ships. The nearest fleet is in port, 200 miles away, in Lavitin. It won't be ready to make way for at least a day, Sir"

"Order it to sea, Lieutenant, under my authority. Captain, our nearest wing of fighter-bombers?"

"There are scattered squadrons around the area, Sir, but the nearest wing is in Jetnir, over 100 miles away."

"They are to immediately arm for an attack on that fleet. They will be protected by four squadrons of fighters. I understand that there are five squadrons of Raptors at Kingston? Order four of them to act as escort. Do you think it will be enough, Air Commodore?"

"For the amount of ships we are reading, I can't be sure."

"Corporal. Contact the Imperial Government. Inform them of everything. Answer any question. Lance Corporal. Issue a statement to our allies. Tell them of this event. Ask for full military retaliation. Now!"

Clutching his cup tightly, his hand turning red, Thomas Winkling yelled out. "What in the bloody hell are they doing?!?" He quickly stood up, colour returning to his hands. "Get me Casa. Now..."

Not 30 seconds later, the screen in front of Thomas's beautiful, old leather couch flickered on, hissing a bit. A weathered old face smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Ah... You need my Sabre's, eh?"

Thomas nodded. "Yes, get them in there NOW!" He turned red once more. How... How could a nation do such a thing. "Send your Sabre's." He frowned, and shut off the T.V.




OOC: This is not my best work - However, war is not my forte. Expect better quality as it progresses.

4:25 a.m., North Lotusland Chancellor's Residence

"My God!" exclaims Chancellor Carlson. "Why? Why would they attack? No reason whatsoever! Ready our forces...we're going to war!"

"Sir..." interupts his secretary of war.

"What?!"

"Perhaps you should take a look at these figures..."

"Yes...yes...over 3 billion people??? Hmm, crap in a hat. We certainly don't want to give them an excuse to look this way. Still, make an offer of humanitarian aid to Falastur and Samtonia."

"Of course sir."

[ooc: as a member of LoD, I was asked to join.]

The Fuhrer, Fritz Viechal, walked into his office with his normal cup of coffee. In Witzgall, the sun had just risen. He looked at his secretary as she held a manilla folder. She handed it to him and waited for him to open it.

"What the hell is this?" asked the Fuhrer as he took the folder.
"It seems the nation of Falastur has gotten into a conflict. They ask our support, it seems." replies his secretary as she leaves the Fuhrer to himself.

The Fuhrer sits behind his desk and opens up the folder. A large map of Crealir sat before him on the first page, with red dots everywhere.

"Son of a bitch..." the Fuhrer said, as he picked up his phone.

He rang General Smirkov, Commander in Chief of the Witzgallian Air Force.

"Hello?" asks the man who picks up.
"Smirkov. It is Lord Viechal. Order your men to prepare for mobilization. We have a problem."
"My Lord, what is the issue that you speak with haste?" asks the General.
"It seems Falastur needs our help. Order your men to say good morning to their wives before they arrive for work this horrible morning."
"I will do so, My Lord."
"Alert General Kackmir as well. Order him to have the entire first and third fleet on patrol, and have the second and fourth halt back until I order them to assault. I do not yet know of the elevation of this problem."
"Yes sir."

The Fuhrer hung up with his comrade. He then began to try to contact the leader of Falastur, but he was doubtful...

OOC- TAG for later response. Here's a link to my country's map:
http://img17.exs.cx/my.php?loc=img17&image=Samtonia.gif
and I'll explain the geography of the region back in the OOC thread. Basically, rocky cliffs all along the coast until about Bunsen and Forthy along the narrow bay.

I'll assume you've hit Decidia and shelby, along with the unnamed city on the third island. Oh, and btw, it's Samtonia, not Samtopia. :D

OOC: http://img126.exs.cx/my.php?loc=img126&image=map2312.jpg is a map of mine, which labels Phoria, a puppet.

Short, but...:

IC:

The Fuhrer's computer screen flashed red. Another ally of Witzgall, Samtonia, had been alledgedly attacked.

"God has forsaken me...he wants me to prove myself..." says the Fuhrer as he stares at the screen with the military statistics and their status.

Casa's eyes twinkled with delight as he unfolded the yellowed map in front of him. His withered hand slowly reached for an ivory stick, and he dragged it across the ancient hickory table until it's point met the town of DeSoto. He smiled weakly, the corner of his lips turning up into a fold of wrinkles. His gleaming teeth shone underneath the thinly pulled lips. Opening his mouth, he cleared his gritty throat.

"Counsel of Five, this is where we will pull the Sabre's to. One, you bring in the Modella fleet. Two, the Tyrniia Fleet. Three and Four, you are under command of the schematics of the landing and such. You all know I am too old for this." He smiled largely, his eyes becoming deep pools of rememberance, of a time when he could smell the battlefield, engage with the troops. "Any questions?"

The answer came back in a long, anonymous drone. "No, sir." It sounded eerily mechanical.

Under the veil of our faire lady night, the ships began to load up, carrying the soldiers of a unfit god, the keepers of hell. Smiling, each and every one, they were ready. All of the Sabre's were ready to go.

Only time... And bodies stood in their way.


OOC: Samtonia, they are coming without warning. Possible conflict between Coastguard, soldiers, etc.?

Eric Rechnitz crushed the plastic cup of lukewarm coffee in his hand after staring at the report of the numerous attacks. "Civilian targets. Military targets yes, but deliberatly killing innocnet people?" he stood up from the huge oak table and slowly stepped over to a window. The bustling streets of Vogelsang, the capitol of Buechoria, were crowded with hundreds of happy people returning from school and work. Eric shuddered as he imagined bombs careening on them, pulling their bodies apart.

"As prime minister of this country," Eric began, "It it my duty to enforce the Emergency Interferance act. Prepare the Zivilarmee for deployment." Several generals saluted and left the room. All who remained was the Minister of Defense, Adrian Bernhard and Minister of Foreign Affairs, Hans-Georg Joachim.

"Sir, shouldn't we consider sending in diplomats first?" recommended Hans-Georg. Eric turned around and faced him to reply, "You cannot neogtiate with these fiends."

---

The ten C-160 turbo-prop airplanes were fully loaded, each with twenty soldiers. The Buechorian KSK (Kommando Spezialkraefte) was fully equipped and prepared to begin behind the scene sabotuer missions against Dregruk.

After several hours, the ten grey planes were flying over the country of Dregruk, matching the blanket of night that covered the area. The teams dropped out of the planes and were after little time at all, landed on the ground and moving towards the nearest city...

As shells crashed down, military targets were of course the first areas targeted. At a small observation post inside the small coastal town of Biscany, overlooking the entrance to Boffin Bay, an adjutant had time to sprawl over the code-7 alarm button before his post dissolved under a second rain of shells. But that signal was enough.

++++++++
Rocketing through the complex infrastructure of Samtonian military command, the signal created perhaps the largest display of organized chaos ever seen in Samtonia. Coastal batteries were put on highest alert. Every single Samtonian in the military immediately received a Code-3 alert, delivered by loudspeaker to the enlisted, personal courier to the highest up, and a sharp jolt of stimulants to technicians in command centers across Samtonia. All knew their drill. And all moved to complete their task.

++++++++
“They must have snuck in under the radar screen, after all with the northern coastal TTG array down-“

“We’ve got twelve wings vectoring at heading .087 towards Shelby. Fighter-bombers from the looks of it.”

“Radar and LIDAR detect massive concentrations of troopships at Waypoint 123. Estimated strength: 12 Gideon class Super battlecruisers, 14 Achilles class carriers, 32 Munsen class heavy cruisers…”

“Battery commanders asking for weapons free authorization.”

“They should know it already. Get the order out! Sats indicate possible troop dispatchment of 500,000 towards us, 600,000 towards Falastur, unknown number elsewhere.”

“We have a chart for adequate nuclear response. Authorization for initialization of reply code A-6?”

“DENIED! We’re not brining nukes into this yet!”

“Transmitting orders to detonate- now!”

The scene around the central command station in Mt. Leblanc was one of utter chaos. The entire complex was full and operating at 107% efficiency, as predicted by levels of caffeine circulating in the bodies of the officers there. As data flowed in, it was updated real-time to the officers all around Samtonia, who instantly sent their orders back. This would be the site for control during most of the war. And this was to be but the beginning.

+++++++++++

Code: Alpha-Romeo gives immediate declaration of his authentic meatballs.
Transmitting protocols AD-132.beta observed

All forces are to assume state of war with hostiles from nation of Dregruk.

Firing protocols FX-2 to be observed. Chemical munitions to be readied but not deployed. Content to be updated as given.

End transmission.

+++++++++++
With explosive sounds and bubbling air vents, the detonation of all tunnels connecting the Isles of Parth was one unannounced to the world at large. The signals transmitted to the strategically place C-6X within the support beams of the walls caused immediate detonation, with no lost signals. The collapse of the tunnels prevented and easy method of landing in Samtonia to be gained. But now it was time to enact counterattack measures.

++++++++++
All over the coastline, mobile batteries of anti-aircraft missile launchers opened up, targeting assistance provided by the massive radar arrays ringing Samtonia. Each vehicle had specific instructions- fire two missiles and leave the area as fast as possible. After seeing what return fire could do to lightly armored vehicles in the Twelve Days War, Samtonian commanders were watching out for their best interests.

All told, nearly 500 missiles were fired in the first wave, all receiving computational aid and course correction mid-flight. And with over 800 aircraft violating the skies of Samtonia, the missiles certainly had enough targets.

++++++++++++
Meanwhile, underneath the Dregrukian fleet…..

20,000 feet. The depth of the continental shelf above which the enemy fleet sat. Impervious to all, they confidently believed. But some cheaply made pieces of metal were about to prove them wrong.

With the right code entered, half the mines on the shelf activated. Magnetic mines, they were designed to be impossible to locate with any form of anti mine warfare ship, too small to appear on any form of mapping aid. Now, with their activation, hundreds began to float upwards from the ocean floor, attracted towards the nearest metal object. These were the ships of the Dregrukian fleet.

Each mine easily powerful enough to sink a conventional destroyer; they would present an interesting welcome gift for the enemy fleet…..

++++++++++++++
At the same time, all across the coastline and up Boffin Bay, minefields activated. Acoustic mines, designed to detonate when ships moved past, magnetic mines, floating mines, moored mines, drifting mines that moved with the tides and flow of water- all were part of one of the most elaborate minefields known to the world.

No enemy had ever penetrated even partway. And Samtonia didn’t consider this one to be any different.

+++++++++++++++
At the same time, in hidden runways, aircraft began prepping. The Samtonian navy reversed its course and began to steam full speed back towards Samtonia. And submersibles all over the world turned either towards Samtonia or the Dregrak mainland.

Dregrak was about to understand what a nuisance Samtonia could be on the defense.

OOC: Samtonia, they are coming without warning. Possible conflict between Coastguard, soldiers, etc.?

OOC- See OOC thread for my reply.

--Crealir, 4.45 AM--

The bombardment of Falastur was still underway when the troop ships began heading towards the beaches. Hundreds of the metal cans seemed to be pouring out of the fleet towards the obliterated beaches, each one full of perhaps as many as a hundred soldiers.

--Samtonia coast, same time--

The operation in Samtonia was proceeding far worse than anticipated. The intelligence gathered on the area revealed no large mine clusters, but as the first ships began to be torn apart in huge mushrooms of flame and metal, it became all to clear that the intel was tragically wrong. Orders were sounded around the fleet to begin a retreat, but it was too late. In their haste to get closer to their target, they had gone straight into a minefield. Any movement could potentially trigger another mine, and lose them another ship.

In a final act of desperation, the admiral of the Capital Ship Vortex ordered every plane in the fleet to take to the skies and bomb anything they could find. He also sent a message back to the Dregruk Military Command;

"Task Fleet Frinchek lost; Samtonia coast heavily mined, unable to proceed with mission. Forgive our failure."

Any longer message was cut abruptly short by a mine detonating on the port side of the ship, setting off the magasines in storage there and shredding the whole ship in a matter of seconds.

--Ghastopol, same time--

"Sir, reports are coming in from Falastur and Samtonia. The bombardment of Falastur has been successful, little opposition in area, landings about to commence."

"My God, sir! The fleet in Samtonia has been destroyed by mines!"

The senior General at the table took off his glasses and rubbed his temples wearily. "How many men were in that fleet?"

"Over a thousand, sir. The planes from the carriers have taken to the air, though. We're waiting to see if they more effective than the fleet was in the area, sir."

The Bree Tonia Governmental Control Centre...

Alarms were slowly starting to ring in the head of the Military Defence and Assault shadow ministers mind, Falastur was a good member of the Legion of Defence, and he was kicking himself for not realising what to do sooner.
"Ensign, get me the head of the Empiral Navy, and be quick about it!"
"Wha....yes, right away sir."

The ensign headed off down one of the many corridors spanning the tall building in Kinloss, capital of Bree Tonia. After about three minutes of stressful waiting, the Empiral Navy's head honcho - Under-Leader Zukyo, arrived with a pant in his breathing.

"Ah, finally. Listen. We have a situation. LoD fellow Falastur was recently attacked, and it seemed the attacker, Dregruk has unleashed total war upon Falastur and one of its allies, and im sure more to come. The only way to reach this crisis on time with a force sizeable enough is with the ARS United Arabia, and we both know that. I want her stocked up with supplies for 6 months underway time and a fleet capable of defending her from any form of attack. What do you say now?"
"Well, erm..."

The Under-Leader wrestled with his tie a bit and let his mind race for a few seconds, until replying...

"Right, Seeing as this is her first major conflict, I will captain the fine vessel, and I will ensure the best ships in the navy make up a fleet so powerful, it will match that of any seen. I take it all nations within the Empire are going to be put on full alert?"
"Correct, you have all the funding you could need I should think."
"That is very good, this could become a great war for us. I suggest putting homeland forces on alert and maybe even warming up the Polical Homeland Force, sir..."

That put a stern look on the Shadow Minister's face. He began to contemplate this, and realised the extent of military capabilities of a nation such as Dreguk.

"Hmm... You may well be right there. Well, thankyou Zukyo, you may go now, and please, whatever the outcome of this, remember that your doing this for your Nation, the nation. Bree Tonia."
"Why yes of course sir, I bid you goodbye for now then."
"Farewell."

The Shadow Minister slowly thought about what he had consigned his forces to, and felt it was right to contact Andrey, just so he know.

Bbbbbring, Brrring...
"Yes, Zaitzev here, what can I do for you?"
"Ah, Andrey, its Kirk here, I just thought i'd let you know, ive set the United Arabia for Falastur defence. It seems that we stand a chance of defeating the attacker with her."
"Oh, okay. That seems like a very wise move. I wish the fleet good luck then, i will be sure to check up on them, i might even visit. They can land a 727 for petes sake!"

That rose a chuckle from both men. They then got about their respective duties, although the topic never really left their minds.




A few days later, at United Arabian fleet dock, in the shadow of the mighty ARS United Arabia.
Thousands of men and women were slogging their guts out in this very place, loading supplies seemingly endlessly into the giant ship. And if that wasnt enough, there was the matter of loading up the armaments for all the other vessels, comprimising some massive battleships, heavy cruisers and too many destroyers to count. At least with the combined income of all of the great Empire, they were getting the salary the equivalent of some high ranked businessmen at the moment.
The supervisor for the operation was a veteran of the Bree Tonia logistics corp, a 53 year old with the rank of Expert Inspector.

"Hey, jimbo, watch thay pallet there, thats the sugar, we cant let that spill, we'll have an infestation on our hands!"
"Oh, sorry sir, didnt noticer that. I wont let that out of my eyes in the future, sir."
"Good good, im glad you will."

This, apart from the sea trials and recent worldwide trip, was the only time the United Arabia had had to be loaded. It was massive operation, when the fleet was counted into the mix, it took at least 10 days just for food. And then there was all the fuel for the 500+ aircraft and the munitions for the mass of deck guns. Not to mention the submarine dock and LCACs that needed supplies.


OOC: Well, just for those that really *need* to know, heres the numbers of the ships deployed to aid from the attack of Dreguk.

United Arabia Ship Statistics:
Statistical Data:
Length: 3755 feet
Width: 1460 feet
Draft: 143 feet empty, 228 feet full
Hull: Titanium with 14mm tin coat on baseline
Displacement:
Empty: 4,850,000 tons
Fully Loaded: 5,150,000 tons
Cargo: 53,000 tons of nonessential equipment and supplies.
Each crewmember has a locker for personal items
Extra ammo, armor, troops, weapons, and engines take up most ship’s spaces.
Builders: United Arabian Shipyards

Weapon Systems:
10x 22mm Eagle CIWS
9x 14” Magno-Stabilised Guns
9x 18.1” Magno-Stabilised Guns
3x 16.1” Magno-Stabilised Guns
12x 25mm AA Guns
16x Torpedo Pylons
12x Aft MLRS Tubes
12x Fore MLRS Tubes
225x Single Valise ICBM VLS Tubes

Aircraft:
The United Arabia has 4 flight decks. The 3 decks not topside have two runways each and very large space for aircraft.

Aircraft on the United Arabia:
Top Deck
25x SH-60F LAMPS Seahawk
15x SH-60H Seahawk Helicopter
4x V-22 Osprey Tilt-Rotor

2nd Deck
95x FRS.II Sea Harrier
55x F-35B Joint Strike Fighter

3rd Deck
35x F-15E Strike Eagle /Ground Attack
60x F-15 Eagle /Air Superiority
40x F-18/A Super Hornet /Fast Intercept
45x F-14D Tomcat /CAP

4th Deck
2x C-130J Hercules /Transport
14x E-2C Hawkeye /AEW
14x S-3B Viking /ASW
14x KC-130H Hercules Tanker

Other Facilities:
Submarine Dock - 4 SSBNs/8 SSNs
LCAC Hangar – 42 LCACs
Tank Storage (for LCACs) – 42 MBTs & 58 APCs
2 UAV Runways Topside
Advanced Ventilation System
ILR Radar
ILR Sonar
Long Range Communication Tower

Propulsion:
4x BTP-4 Nuclear Reactors – 4 shafts, 428’000 shaft horsepower
Backup Propulsion System – 4 turbines in hull chamber


Accompanying Fleet Numbers:
Medium Ships:
32x DD-963 Spruance Destroyers
w/ 2x SH-60 Seahawk
13x Prowler Guided Missile Frigates
w/ 1x SH-60F Seahawk
8x Leahy Guided Missile Cruisers

Heavy Ships:
2x Leviathon Super-Battleships
w/ 4x SH-60F LAMPS Seahawk
4x SH-60F Seahawk
4x Iowa (Mk.4 Refit) Battleships

Supply + Logistics Ships:
8x Sacremento Class Supply Ships
w/ 2x CH-46E Sea Knight
6x T-AO 187 Fleet Replenishment Oilers
14x T-AKR 300 Bob Hope LMSR Heavy Transports
14x Africa Minelayers
w/ 1x AH-6 Littlebird
34x LCAC Landing Crafts

Submarines:
3x Ohio SSBNs
w/ 1x ASDS Infiltration Submersible
8x SeaWolf SSNs



{Yup, lotsa ships. Just say if its too many}

Tag

This is the Island Nation Of The Holy Empire Of Christopher Thompson, Fuehrer Christopher Thompson hailing Falastur: We will offer you aid in this war in the form of naval assistance if you request it. (btw, this is a current tech rp, isn't it? plz let me know) We can sent over 5 of our Holy Imperial divisions to aid you. Please respond soon.

(To see what is in a division, see my sig.)

The Fuhrer walked onto the field of the Mount Ashcroft, the largest military base in Witzgall. The twelve active runways were filled with Numen IV High-Speed/High-Angle fighters and F-65 ZFighter jets, as well as B-11 Lacken IIs and other bombers.

General Smirkov rushes over to the Fuhrer, who stands with two of his personal policemen and bodyguards.

"My Lord, as you can see behind me, the force is ready for Operation "Swift Conquer". Does this force please you?" asks Smirkov.
"It pleases me very much. Did you contact General Kackmir about the fleets?"
"I told him exactly what you told me. He has put all ships on high alert and on a Armed and Dangerous state. We have a fool-proof naval patrol right now."
"Good...order the assault as soon as we get confirmation from Falastur. I will alert you when I am contacted."

The Fuhrer nodded as he walked into the large control building on the left.

Public Address from Chancellor Carlson to the Free Peoples of North Lotusland

My fellow citizens of North Lotusland,

Today we are engulfed in a great national crisis. As you know, members of the North Lotusland National Guard were flown overseas to the Province of Manira in the Imperial Power of Falastur, to aid disaster relief efforts from the cowardly nation of Dregruk. Guard Flight Number 611, carrying 108 relief workers and 4 air crew, flew off course due to what appears to be mechanical failure. They were intercepted and shot down by ship-based anti-aircraft fire from Dregurk naval forces. All 112 servicemen on that flight were killed. Their families have been notified. I ask you to pray to whatever God you worship for their souls.

This murderous act by Dregurk cannot go unpunished, and yet a tiny and peaceful nation like North Lotusland has not the military power to act against this sprawling, tyrannical regieme. We ask the military forces of those nations to accept any logistical aid we can provide and allow us to join you in this war.

Thank you and good day.

OOC: Thought I better answer some communiques. Military reply will be a little later. I shouldn't have to mention these are encrypted messages :)

IC:

To the Government of Witzgall,

We thank you most humbly for your offer of military support. This offer is very timely, and most graciously recieved. We so thankfully accept this offer, and pray that together we can fight against the virulent hordes of Dregruk to wipe their plague from our lands. We ask that primarily your naval forces operate in a defensive manner, defending the sealanes of Crealir from Dregruk incursion. Furthermore, we suggest that you might wish to join forces with the fleet of Christopher Thompson? However, as it seems that the forces of Dregruk have begun their landings on sovereign Falasturian soil, we may soon need to ask for more support, on land as well as at sea. Anything you might spare to defend Falasturian soil will be most appreciated, however we can only hint at the appropriate numbers of servicemen until we can be sure how strong the Dregruk invasion actually is.

We thank you, our most trusted and uplifted allies of Witzgall,

Yours sincerely,

The Government of His most benevolent Imperial Majesty, Emperor Matthew VI of Falastur

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Fuehrer Christopher Thompson of the Island Nation Of The Holy Empire Of Christopher Thompson,

We thank you most humbly for your offer of support. As we ask our other support in this conflict to do, we ask that you might direct your Naval forces to the defense of Crealir, in case of further Dregruk incursion. We suggest that you might wish to join forces with the fleet of Witzgall? We can only hope that together we will see the end to the atrocity that is Dregruk, and that we may celebrate freedom and prosperity together.

We thank you, our most trusted and uplifted allies of Christopher Thompson,

Yours sincerely,

The Government of His most benevolent Imperial Majesty, Emperor Matthew VI of Falastur

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

To the Government of North Lotusland,

Please, let us be one of the first to offer our condolences on the death of these revered relief workers, who were so heroically sent to our own aid, and who, most tragically, we assume were downed over our own territory. However, their lives were not lost in vain, and the job being carried out by their mourning colleagues is rendering us a great and much needed service. We will make sure that these relief workers are treated with the utmost respect, and we will make their defence in case of a failure to contain the Dregruk threat a priority. In the meantime, we can only offer you our humble thanks and condolences for your offer and your tragedy.

We thank you, our most trusted and uplifted allies of North Lotusland,

Yours sincerely,

The Government of His most benevolent Imperial Majesty, Emperor Matthew VI of Falastur

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

To the Government of Dregruk,

This is an international outrage! Although our nations have been at odds for many a long year, we never dreamed of such a travesty as this. That you would break the codes of honourable combat with such an atrocious and unprovoked slaughter of innocent life appalls us horrendously. We advise you, we have awoken a sleeping giant, and it will deal death to you. You have overstepped your mark, drastically. We therefore have decided to give you an ultimatum for this act. Either you will withdraw your troops in the next 12 hours, pay the sum of £10,000,000,000 (£10,000 million) in reparations, and sign a non-aggression pact binding ourselves to peace so long as ourselves, the signatories, live, or our nation will announce a formal declaration of war.

You have 12 hours to make your reply.

Yours sincerely,

The Government of His most benevolent Imperial Majesty, Emperor Matthew VI of Falastur

OOC: Falastur, I can support you full force. Air, Navy, Land...anything. Also, I'm assuming you gave the "green light" for Operation "Swift Conquer."
IC:

The Fuhrer logs onto the terminal at the base. He has one message. He reads it with great pride, as his support has been accepted. He releases a wicked smirk, then logs off. He walks over to the control boards where twenty four men and seven women sit at computers with monitors on the different runways and plane statuses.

"Excuse me..." says the Fuhrer to one of the men.

The man stands up from his terminal and steps aside. He salutes the Furher with military excellence, and the Fuhrer dismisses him. He watches as General Smirkov stands outside talking to some of his most trusted "Aces".

"One man's fun is another's hell." says the Fuhrer as he hits the green button on the computer's keyboard.

The computer flashes a red square and all of the statuses of the planes and their "squads" comes up.

Unit 104-B, Status: Prepared.
Unit 104-C, Status: Prepared.
Unit 104-D, Status: Prepared.
Unit 119-C, Status: Arming.
Unit 119-D, Status: Prepared.
Unit 120-B, Status: Arming.
Unit 124-B, Status: Prepared.
Unit 124-C, Status: Prepared.
Unit 124-D, Status: Arming.
Unit 138-B, Status: Arming.
Unit 138-C, Status: Arming.
Unit 138-D, Status: Prepared.

"Well, gentlemen...war is upon us." says the General to one of his pilots as siren is sound.

The Fuhrer watched as planes rolled out onto the runways and pilots checked their planes for computer settings. Some had pictures of family members by their cockpits or laying next to their seats. Some had rosery beads hanging around their eject buttons or small reminders and memorable gifts from their loved ones.

OOC: The planes will not launch until confirmation in the OOC thread.

The Emporer sat upon the Golden Throne, staring at the ever lasting snow drifts of Aust.Prince Matthew, the Emporers aide and cousain hastened up to hand a report about the Dregruk actions.

the Emporers eyes showed no emtion as he read the report, just the cool caculating gaze of a killer as he turned over the news in his mind. it was astonishing how much thought went into it from one so young. This was no hot head, no fool. "Prepare the 1st and 12th fleet. As well as Green Wing and 10 legions, and have 3 legions of ASS and the Deaths Head legion on standby for immdietly. They are to leave as soon as possable to aid our allies in there fight against this menice. Odviusly whoever is in charge of this nation, Dregruk, has gone made and is in need of a over inflated head to be disposed of."

"They will go to Falastur, to aid there, I expect them to arrive in to days. The 1st fleet shall escort them and the 12th shall clear the way."

"Yes, sire."

"And one other thing, send a message to our allies goverment to tell them that there's help on the way."

"Yes, Sire"

The Emporer swivled back into his chair to face the snowdrifts, seemingly unaware of the chaos and death he had started. "And one ore thing cousain."

"Sire?"

"Bring in the television,"

"Sire."

And so now, within 12 hours the first Austian troops began to depart.




Austian forces.
10 legions (100,000 men)
3 legions of ASS (3000 Elite Aust Secret Service men)
The Deaths Head legion (5,000 men, the best Aust has.)


Austian Naval forces:

1st Fleet:
2 Zheng He (Quest) Class Fleet Carrier
6Sun Zhongshan Class Battleship
4 Li Hongzhang Class Guided Missile Destroyer
9Lin Zexu Class ASW Destroyer
20 Trafalgar Class Littoral Combat Ship
10 Nanjing (Swordfish) Class SSN

12th Fleet:
2 Zheng He (Quest) Class Fleet Carrier
6Sun Zhongshan Class Battleship
4 Li Hongzhang Class Guided Missile Destroyer
9Lin Zexu Class ASW Destroyer
20 Trafalgar Class Littoral Combat Ship
10 Nanjing (Swordfish) Class SSN


Aust Air forces

Gren Wing: 100 Bombers and 400 fighters.

--Dregruk Military Command, 6AM--

"Sirs, this is the message we received from Falastur." A sergeant flopped several copies of the transcript onto the table before his superiors, and stood to attention.

"That'll be all, sergeant." The sergeant saluted and left the room. "Gentlemen, we appear to be at the point of no return. If we back down now, we may be able to avoid any serious repercussions."

"I think we all know that that isn't an option here." Several of the officers chuckled, but they edge of nervousness remained in the room.

"Is it? We could back down, and the Falasturians have offered us a way out. We have less than 12 hours to make a decision."

"10 thousand million pounds is a way out, is it?! That's more than 24 thousand million Ghastian Rubles!" Cried another General, rubbing his eyes wearily. "Gentlemen, I say we continue the assault on Falastur and Samtonia."

A murmur of agreement sounded around the table.

A radio operator turned around. "We're getting reports that the landings on the sub-continent of Crealir are largely successful. Do I give the order to press on, sir?"

The highest ranking General in the room rose to his feet and walked over to the transmitter. "I'll do it myself. I want this message relayed on the international band frequency, plus to all the loudspeakers in Dregruk.

"Today, we, the Militaristic Dominion of Dregruk began a war that will be viewed by the international community as unjust and wrong. This war will bring untold destruction and carnage upon the populations of Falastur and Samtonia. Every war has casualties, and this war is more just than any politician could ever make you believe! At dawn, our nation geared itself to embark on a war that would forever reshape the world we live in! We see a world where everyone is united under the banner of Dregruk! Nations will fall, and we shall prevail! There will be no clemency; there will be no leeway; there will only be war!"

At the same time he said this a message came from Aust.

To: Dregruk
From: Aust

You have embarked upon a war of which your forces cannot win, surrender now and there will be no reprisles, if you won't surrender then come to Aust and my Nation will face you, one on one. If not then the legions will came to you.

Emporer Palpatine

-------
At the same time a message arrived at Falastur,

To: Falastur
From: Aust

We offer you aid my freind in your time of crisis, 10 legions have been dispatched, more shall come if you want them.

Emporer Palpatine

Hearing the official broadcast on the international television, Emperor Matthew - only 17, yet already experienced in the world of politics, put his head in his hands, then let it droop back to the headrest on his chair. How could this happen? I've done everything I could to make good international relations. And yet Dregruk, our greatest adversary, has now attacked us in such an unprovoked and vile move?

Sighing, his pulse racing, he called his Secretary over the intercom, and arranged for a news conference.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Citizens of Falastur, people of the world. As you must surely have heard, today we were attacked in a harsh and unprovoked attack on Falasturian territory by the military of Dregruk. We issued them an ultimatum, giving them 12 hours to retract their forces from our waters, and sign a peace. Within minutes, the offer was dismissed by a countering statement to the public.

"Therefore, we are left with only one solution - to force the surrender of Dregruk through military means. As of this day, at 4:32 PM local time, the Empire of Falastur is at war with Dregruk.

"To our allies, we thank all of those who have pledged support, and all of those who will pledge it in the future. We look forward to your supporting declarations of war upon Dregruk, even greater, we look forward to the end of this conflict at the surrender of Dregruk. We will win this conflict, I promise all of you. Only through unity and alliance can we accomplish this, but I am certain we shall. Thank you"

Bulb flashes filled the conference room as journalists took their pictures, and the room degenerated into a hail of questions and responses.

To Emperor Palpatine of Aust,

We thank you for and accept most humbly your offer of support, and request that your legions land in the ports of San Neiro and Las Pavita, in the Province of Manira, neighbouring the Province of Havela, where I ask that they might move to support our own divisions in the area, who are as we speak beginning their journey into Havela to attempt to defeat the Dregruk landings. Together, we will prove an unstoppable force, and we look forward to raising our flag next to yours, in the capital of the cursed fools of Dregruk.

We thank you, our most trusted and uplifted allies of Aust,

Yours sincerely,

The Government of His most benevolent Imperial Majesty, Emperor Matthew VI of Falastur

OOC: Dangit, Aust got there 4 minutes earlier :)

To Emperor Palpatine of Aust,

We thank you for and accept most humbly your offer of support, and request that your legions land in the ports of San Neiro and Las Pavita, in the Province of Manira, neighbouring the Province of Havela, where I ask that they might move to support our own divisions in the area, who are as we speak beginning their journey into Havela to attempt to defeat the Dregruk landings. Together, we will prove an unstoppable force, and we look forward to raising our flag next to yours, in the capital of the cursed fools of Dregruk.

We thank you, our most trusted and uplifted allies of Aust,

Yours sincerely,

The Government of His most benevolent Imperial Majesty, Emperor Matthew VI of Falastur
The Boy-Emporer saw the message appear on the vid-screen, and quickl typed in a reply.


The legions shall do so, they are only hours away and will soon arive, indeed I myself may soon arrive to help you.

Emporer Palpatine the 4th
Lord of the Air.


---------------
5 Hours later

The First advance scouts of the Austian force began to enter the Falastur habours, they where small brave ships, that dared to go ahead of the main fleet and clear the way, or at least cheak the way. on board each of the four ships was a squad of ASS Deaths Head. The foremost of whitch was Legion Commander James Wittock.

As the Ship began to dock he vaulted from the deck with his bodyguard and prepared to find the habour master and accomidation for the troops that would soon arrive.

Another laid back night spent in a laid back part of town in a nation that had given in to the urge to live wild & party hard long ago, so much the better for Jared but not so good for the individual who’d relinquished his head as well as his organisation to allow Jared, along with the others, to takeover & profit from destruction of others.

“Sometimes I wonder if we shouldn’t just disappear, what with the way things are back home, I mean I hear the stories about the Great Economic Resettling that occurred with Aust but that was long ago & so we just sit around getting weaker all the time.” It was said to no one in particular because just about everyone else was no longer in the building, let alone the room.

Colonel Jared Plisken, last naturally human commander in his branch of operations & bearer of a proud lineage, was sunk comfortably in to a soft leather chair which was cracked but tastefully so & looked down at the cigar in his hands tauntingly. Bringing it towards his lips only to let his arm fall back down, he’d been doing this for days now & it had not dawned upon him that his desire for a mission. For something worthy of his heritage would be thrust upon him with much force & abandon.
His heritage had taught him that leadership was lonely, isolating in peacetime & engulfing in war, only he'd never experienced it & like all lessons this one had to be learned the hard way.

Encrypted transmission from Chancellor Carlson of North Lotusland to The Government of His most benevolent Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of Falastur
The nation of North Lotusland sends its greetings to the nation of Falastur. We would like to offer to join you in a declaration of war on the foul nation of Dregruk.

I have been working with the Secretary of War and have determined our current military is approximetely 135,000 strong, with a per soldier budget of approximetly 30,800 goldpieces (equivilant to the obviously fictitious U.S. Dollar). Now, while we are both new at our jobs, (OOC I'm a total noob), we estimate that this puts our army at approximetely 94,500, with about 24,000 combatants. Much of our army and navy is defensive based.

That being said, at your request we will send 8,000 infantry and 24,000 support personnel to the nation of Falastur. We ask that this unit be kept under the seperate command of General Matthew Mungovan, who will report to your commanders in regards to strategic operations in the Falastur theatre.

This shipment will be accompanied by a declaration of war against the nation of Dregruk. In exchange for this, I ask only for Dregruk to be made to pay reperations of 50,000,000 goldpieces to be distributed to the surviving families of the tragic victems of their vile attack on our relief workers. However, I expect this will cause the nation of Dregruk to attack the sovereign nation of Lotusland.

We will be depending on the allied coalition against Dregruk to keep their forces out of the West Pacific. Perhaps that dependancy will be more of a burden than the assistance we are likely to bring to bear. It's possible that the best assistance we can provide is to act in an "officially neutral" relief capacity.

We await your response.

Chancellor Carlson
The Most Serene Republic of North Lotusland

General Smirkov rushed into the control room holding a red folder with the words "Swift Conquer - 11/10/04". He was out of breath, and heavily trying to regain control of his respiratory system.

"General? What is it?" asks the Fuhrer as he stands from his terminal.
"Sir! We have the okay for the raid! Operation "Swift Conquer" is a go!" shouts the General.
"Are you sure it isn't a false reply?" questions the Fuhrer.
"Very sure!" replies the General.
"Hmm...well, prepare your men for combat. Brief them if you have not done so. I will order the assault soon..." says Fritz Viechal (the Fuhrer).
"Yes sir. I will go alert them now." the General said as he calmly handed the folder over to the Fuhrer and left the control room.

The Fuhrer opened the folder as he stood, and he was staring at a bunch of rubbish. Military slang, code words, and recon reports.

"Hmm..." says the Fuhrer with a sense of calmness and security.

The Fuhrer closed the folder and held it in his hand by his side. He left the control room with his bodyguards and began pacing himself outside. His office, only six miles away, would be his sanitarium, the only place he could feel safe.

General Smirkov walked quickly towards the Fuhrer.

"Sir...we have run into a little problem." says the General.
"What is it?" asks the Fuhrer with an air of confusement.
"Units One Twenty Four and One Thirty Eight have not been able to run sequence checks. Some wierd error with their radar and engine output. They're in for repairs." replies the General.
"How long?"
"At least a day...the computers are all screwed up and our technicians are at their best."
"Damn. Will the Operation still be able to work?" asks the Fuhrer with disgust at his plane's failures.
"Well, I suppose so. We won't have as much protection for the bombers, but it will still work."
"Supposing is not an answer, Smirkov."
"Yes. It will work, Sir." replies the General with sincerity.

The Fuhrer looks at the planes being wheeled into their hangars and the pilots smoking as they watch their pets go into their houses.

"Well...continue. How many units will be in this operation?" asks the Fuhrer.
"Three. We could recruit more units into the op, if needed, Sir."
"No...we will do it with the three. Contact General Kirmov and tell him to order a defensive position around Falastur. Order a landing of troops, as well. We must do whatever is asked of us by our presitigous allies..."
"Yes sir. I will do so as soon as I can."
"No, you will do it now General."
"Right away Sir." says the General as he salutes the Fuhrer and walks away.

The Fuhrer thinks to himself about what he is doing. Why is he doing this? He knows that a bombing raid without fighter support is almost ritual suicide...he is testing the enemy, or possibly he has forgotten what years of battle has taught him?

The naval ships shot off their gun salutes as they sailed into the open seas to guard their ally's seas. The ocean seemed to blend in with the clear sky, and it seemed to be infinite.

The crews of the ships dined in the messhalls as their commanding officers contacted each other by way of special radios. The submarines who tagged along began to spread out and search for enemy ships or submersibles who were perhaps launching an assault.

The commanders of the submarines also contacted their comrades and kept them posted as almost every ship in the ferocious navy sailed to an unseen land to protect a friend from a virtually unknown enemy...

The Fuhrer steps up to a podium in the capital, The Red City. Six body guards and the Generals of the Army, Navy, and Air Force stand behind him at attention.

"Hello, fine citizens of Witzgall. I am here, deeply saddened by the news I must tell you." The Fuhrer says calmly.

"I am saddened to tell you that we, The Sadistic Dictatorship of Witzgall, must declare war upon The Militaristic Dominion of Dregruk. He has attacked our allied nations, Samtonia and Falastur. We must retaliate against this evil nation which has already slaughtered so many civilians..." the Fuhrer says, as he scans the crowd of press and civilians before him.

"I am telling you this now, live in flesh and blood. I also regret to tell you that yes, I have already ordered the mobilization of troop concentrations to go to our allies land and defend their horrified and shocked nation. I have also ordered a strike of force against this evil dominion." says the Fuhrer.

A woman in the crowd looks up at the sky, as if asking a question to her invisible sanctuary. The Fuhrer notices, and monitors her actions of emotion.

"That is all I can say now. I am deeply shocked by the unjust slaughter and murder of civilians in our allied nations, and I feel we must show that this is not tolerated. Good day." says the Fuhrer as he steps down from the podium and his generals salute him.

Standard Diplomatic Channels, Samtonian Embassy, North Lotusland

Dear sirs and madams;

AS representative of my government to the foreign community, I am excited by the support you show the glorious side in this war of freedom.

You are wise to side with hat will surely be the victors in this war of aggression. Already, we are fighting them back from the shores of Samtonia. Our submersibles draw nearer to their fleets and we are nearly rid of the threat from these warmongering fools.

Our accidental ally, Falastur, is even now fighting off the troops of Dragruk, liberating swaths of their country from the evil posed by these wretches. Make no mistake, we will win. And you are safe on the winning side.

As such, we respectfully decline your offer of humanitarian aid, as it seems your position is much more tnuos then ours. Indeed, we offer back the same generous offer to you. Ask for troops. Ask for supplies. Ask for anything you need and we will provide it to you.

For we are in this together, allies under the same banner- one of truth, justice, and the Samtonian way.

God Bless and may your country be defended to the last man.

http://img94.exs.cx/img94/2360/CarlVanderhovenMinisterofEconomics.jpg
Carl Vanderhoven, Minister of Foreign Affairs

The commander of the destroyer named "Odysseus" watched through his binoculars as two ships sailed towards the Witzgallian fleet his ship lead into battle.

"What the hell..." said the Commander, as he handed off the binoculars to his comrade.

His comrade looked through the binoculars and stared intently as the two ships sailed dead on towards the large Second Fleet of Witzgall. The Odysseus itself could demolish these two small vessels. It was not clear whether the ships were destroyers, cruisers, or even large merchant ships. The ships were two far to see if they had large naval guns or fish nets.

"Should we attack, Commander Rall?" asks the man with the binoculars.
"No...order the men to arm the guns, but do not fire until it is a confirmed hostile." replies the Commander as he stares out into the open sea.
"Yes sir." says the man as he leaves the bridge and walks onto the second deck.

The commander rubbed his chin and monitored the sonar screen and sea for any signs of submersibles or a hostile gesture by the ships.

Undisclosed Location, Samtonia, 0627 hours 5th Nov. 2004

Hello, defenders of the world. Brave soldiers, who even now toil to keep the sacrifices of Samtonians from long ago at the forefront of our minds. Brave men and women, we salute you.

Samtonia has been forced into a war, a war not wished upon us by anyone, a war created and sustained by the express intents of the evil nation of Dregruk. My friends, we are on the cusp of a momentous decision. My friends, i and the rest of the Council of Thirteen have worked to find a solution to the problems that plague us that does not demand a military sacrifice. None could be found.

In the fight for justice, lives will be lost. The first alreay were. I hage been informed that at 4:00 Am, local Samtonain time, a sneak attack was launched upon our shores. Many died, but those responsible for the firing of the guns that killed our countrymen have been terminated. But that is not enough.

Samtonia will not rest until the political lackeys that ordered this blatant act of aggression against us are captured and terminated as well. We will not stop until the lands of Dragruk are smoldering ruins, echoing the devestation across the Samtonian coastline. And we will not stop until our honor has been avenged and our dead have been consecrated.

Dregruk has announced their intentions to annex the world and even now are striking at the heart of another peace loving country, Falastur. Even more alarming, they have annonunced that there will be no parlay. No end to this war. No end until we stop them or die trying.

Their iron stance forces Samtonia to go down a road we never thought we would need to go down before: Total war. No prisoners are to be taken. No civilians are to be spared. In retaliatio for their actions, the leaders of Dragruk will see their country burn.

My fellow Samtonians. I make a pledge to you today. I pledge every man, woman, and child in Samtonia will be killed before we ever surrender. I pledge that before that day comes, Dregruk will lie a smoking and blasted wasteland, devoid of all life. And I pledge we will fight on, no matter the cost.

My friends, we fight. We fight for freedom. We fight for the world. But most of all, we fight for Samtonia.

http://img94.exs.cx/img94/2290/Clipboard12.jpg
Minister X, Leader of Samtonian Council of Thirteen

Glaring over the rail on the Alejandro, Casa sighed. His eyes twinkled as the moon reflected itself on the ocean, creating a eerily silent scene. "Well... It's looks as this has begun... Thomas, my friend... I am going to take down this country... Exactly what you didn't want..." His lips curled evily, and he sat down on the deck.

In the control room, grey and sterile, the Second Lieutenant frowned slightly.

"Sire," He started, "It would seem that there are some sort of mines. I got this wierd feeds recorded from when the Dregruk Fleet began to sink. Do you think a quick run could get us through?"

His commander nodded. "It would have to do. Okay, keep the big one back. Taked the Dragoon's through, full speed. And get the rest of the men in small motorboats when it is time. Make sure they have their damn rock-climbing gear this time." He laughed gravely, and tipped his faded white cap. A metallic voice echoed over the communications system.

"Men... Prepare for operation Fuerte Negro! I repeat, prepare for mission!" Smiling, the Lieutenant got up and walked off.

OOC: someine plz fill me in on what's gone down so far, and where troops/navy is.
IC: Christopher Thompson, the Feurer of The Holy Empire.
"Look at these, sir", an aide heaved as he burst into his room and casualy tossed a folder which slid and lightly and spun as it carresed the dark mahogany desk.
"hmm?" the Feuhrer said with a raised eye-brow.
He took out the pictures and scanned them with his sharp, piercing blue eyes. His cigar fell to the desk. "What the hell is this, pictures from Normandy in WWII?"
"No, sir."
"Well then, what the hell are they?"
"They are pictures from an F-14 on carrier 7, sir, taken this morning at the water and coasts of Falatur."
"What the hell are they doing, this is stupidity!" He said, looking at the Dregukian navy as it landed marines on the nation of Falatur. "I thought thaey were allies?!"
"So did Falatur."
Upon hearing that, Christopher's blood began to boil. "Just who the FUCK do they think THEY are! Cowards attacking an ally with no declaration of war!"
"Your orders, sir?"
"I want 5 Holy Imperial Divisions to end this madness, now!"
"Yessir!"
"Pull the navy together, and dispatch 1st Fleet through 5th fleet right away!"
"Sir yes sir!"
The aide left his office in quite a hurry.
"God, when will people like Dreguk stop?" He then picked up the cigar, and started to smoke it again, watching its mezmerizing rings float away in the air.
...One hour later...
Aboard Carrier 1's tower
"*kzzt*Yessir, coordinates 589.147.236., read you loud and clear.*kzzt*"
"*kzzt*Yes, you are NOT to attack unless fired upon, and we are to establish diplomatic negotiations FIRST. This nation is an aggresive nation for unknown reasons, and we must find why, out.*kzzt*"
"*kzzt*Yes sir, orders understood.*kzzt* Captain, alert the first fleet through fifth fleet, we're moving out."
"To where?"
"Here." He pointed at the map in front of them, and handed the captain the brief.
"I see."
"To all first through fifth fleet combatants, arm, and move out to coordinates 589.147.236., you shall be briefed along the way, over and out.*kzzt*"
Soon after that transmission, the first through fifth fleet, each consisting of 2 NIMITZ airraft carriers, each with 5 E2-C Hawkeyes, 10 SH-60 Seahawk Helicopters, 25 EA-6B Prowlers, 20 S-3B Vikings, and 25 F-14 Tomcats, with an escort of 10 Ticonderoga's with the AEGIS AA system in each one, with a scout of 5 Seawolf Submarines, 5 Los Angeles Submarines, and supplies from 2 AOE-6 Supply ships departed the massive and well respected docks of The Holy Imperial Navy for the nearest waters of Falatur.
Meanwhile, this message was broadcasted to the government of Falatur:
"*kzzt*This is the Admiral Christoph Alexander of The Holy Imperial Navy of The Holy Empire of Christopher Thompson. We are currently dispatching half of our navy to assist you in this battle. They will move into position, and attempt to end this madness through diplomatic negotiations. If that fails, then we shall move into more aggressive tactics. Please tell us where to move to. (Map with places of where to go if at all posible) Over and out.*kzzt*"

OOC: I've made landings (After a big bombardment) on the sub-continent of Crealir, in Falastur. I failed an attack on Samtonia with a naval fleet after it was sunk by mines. North Lotusland's relief workers were shot down by me as they flew over my fleet, and are now officially at war with me. Lethislavania is on my side and is attacking Samtonia at the moment.

OOC: Due to politcal infighting about the war...North Lotusland was not officially at war with Dregruk...until...

"Chancellor?"

"Yes, General Lange, what is it?"

"Sir, General Mungovan's troops are ready for deployment to Falatur. The transport planes are prepared."

"You mean our air force?"

"We do have some helicopters, sir."

"Yes...yes...well we haven't heard back from...ah, Shiao. What is it?"

"Sir, bad news. Our police forces have broken up a Dregruk intellegence cell. They've been here for months, feeding information about our roads, our defenses...everything."

"It seems we're the next target then. Deploy Mungovans troops, and the rest of the army, in defensive positions. Wait, belay that. I want Beckman's Florists to go into hiding."

"Sir?"

"We're going to lose this war. Once we do, I want them to be forced to devote as many resources here as possible. We may be underpowered, but we're not going to surrender."

"Yes sir."

"And launch the Manning. Inform her skipper that she is under strict orders not to engage the Dregruk military forces. Instead, she's to attack their logistical shipping interests after they complete the invasion."

"But sir! That sub is our entire navy!"

"Exactly. I'm not going to waste her sinking maybe one ship in the Dregruk fleet. Instead, I want to make Dregruk devote escorts to every freighter sent this way."

"What about the Samtonian's offer of aid?"

"Hmm, well with Dregruk already on the way...send a coded message to Samtonia. Recommend they engage naval targets of Dregruk in the West Pacific at their leisure.

"Gentlemen, launch Contingency Plan Alpha Delta Bravo. Dregruk's coming to take our land. Let's make it the biggest mistake they ever made."

--Coast of North Lotusland, 9.30 AM--

The intelligence cell had been correct; the coastal defenses of Lotusland were nonexistent. That is to say, non-existent after the naval bombardment that was associated by a Dregruk landing. The troop ships plowed onto the beaches and opened up, allowing the soldiers inside to charge up the beach, the absence of tank traps allowing the mechanised units to take the lead, making an armoured spearhead that thrust headlong into the heart of North Lotusland.

--Crealir, same time--

With the province of Havela successfully overrun and resistance crushed under the invading forces, the Dregruk Forces set up a staging point. Little more than a few bunkers and a radio, it served as a point for reinforcements to rally and form their units to proceed as ordered.

The CO of the 472nd Rifle Unit was one Colonel Nathan Carthage.

Finally the Austian ships arrived in Port, and the first troops began to disenbark.

Once all the men where landed they immdietly went to there bunks, tired after a long days sailing, even as they did so the fleet slid out of the habour and made for the Dregruk fleet. They wpould challange battle and hopefully win.
-------Message from The Austian Fleet to all Allied Fleets-----
We are moving to attack the enermy fleet and cut there supply lines, however we balive our fleet may not be enough, can you send aid for the assult.
---------

OOC: Do you have any airbases my Green wing can use? You arn't going to attack my nation Dregluk, i thought you wanted to commit suicide, because attacking Aust is suicide, after all we only have one route to the sea.....( And thats not only a complet city but heavly gaurded and only 10 miles across.

OOC: Sorry for the late response. I got delayed for various reasons which I won't go into.

And also it's Falastur, guys. With an 's' :)

Aust....if you want a Green Wing base in Falastur, fly to IFAF Sandhertz, in the Province of Yerente, around 100 miles North-West of the now-overrun Havela.

IC:

It had been a hard-fought battle, but the 17th Armoured Division, sent to repel the invasion, was now in full retreat. The numbers of Dregruk men had been overwhelming for the force of only 5,000 men, and they had lost more than 3,000 men already. Now, with other Divisions moving in to hold the line and support the 17th, the initial speed of the invasion was slowing, but it couldn't be denied that the Dregruk army was overpowering the Falasturian defenses. Other units from all across Crealir were moving in to the area, but with the threat of invasion at other points, not enough could be spared. Now, with the 5th, 8th and 9th Corps - a total of around 80,000 barely-prepared soldiers - pushing back at the Dregruk invasion, the war was really about to begin. Just whether the Falasturians could hold back the Dregruk forces was soon to be revealed.

With the 10th-15th Air Wings making constant strikes upon enemy strongholds and concentrations, Falastur had the initial air superiority, but the air force was a mixture of modern and aging planes bought and formed into squadrons over the years. There hadn't been a conflict on Falasturian soil for decades. The military had fallen into a low state of repair, and now they would pay the price.

Having received the news of the invasion, and the general order for several fleets to return to Falasturian waters to engage the Dregruk naval forces, a host of ships were now on their way to Havela, but they were dispersed, and would not arrive in one group but in several. In their efforts to cover all of Falastur, the gaps in their defenses were telling, but finally a fleet had reached the area, and turned to the Dregruk fleet. However, finally, a fleet had arrived to engage the Dregruk naval forces. Sending its submarines ahead with orders to fire at will and withdraw, the fleet turned to the Dregruk fleet, their guns loaded and ready to fire once they entered range.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

In response to the message from Christopher Thompson, the following has been returned.

To Fuehrer Christopher Thompson,

We thank you once again for you most generous offer. We advise that you to route your ships to the waters off the Province of Manira, where they can rendezvous with other allied fleets before making what we hope will be a driving strike to remove the Dregruk fleet from our waters, from where we can isolate their army and defeat them.

We thank you, our most trusted and uplifted allies of Christopher Thompson,

Yours sincerely,

The Government of His most benevolent Imperial Majesty, Emperor Matthew VI of Falastur



OOC: The fleet that just arrived consists of the following:

4 Virginia Class SSN's
2 Ticonderoga Class Guided Missile Cruisers
4 Los Angeles Class Attack Subs
2 Arleigh Burke AEGIS Destroyers
4 Pegasus Hydrofoil Patrol Craft
2 Streetfighter LCS's
4 Weathered Class Torpedo Boats
3 Visby Class Corvettes
4 Seawolf Class Attack Subs


This map shows Crealir, with Province names in black, mentioned cities in red, and purple stripes denoting the current occupied zone. I will update it as the war progresses, but I will try not to post it too often so this thread done't become a 56k nightmare.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v245/Falastur/crealir-2.jpg

The Admiral picks up his encrypted phone and talks to the leader of Falastur. "This is Admiral Christoph Alexander of the Holy Imperial Navy. We are moving in to support you via an attack of all Dregukian ships, and will commence with a shore bombardment to remove all land threats. We're moving in, out."
"Your order, sir?"
"Let's go, move out to Havela (our navy is currently around Avalania, about 50 miles out of that region). Take up positions, form a wall from which we can slaughter them, and move up north. Have the subs scout 1.5 miles ahead of the ships, have the Ticonderoga's do a standard circle formation around the carrier groups, and place a little more emphasis on the forward end."
"Yessir!"
The navy, as if in one grand chorus, obeyed their master, and formed a carrier line, each carrier group (2 carriers in close proximity) 2 miles apart, With 7 Ticonderoga's in front and 3 in back per group, with 5 Los Angeles Class and 5 Seawolf class subs scouting in a phalanx lines 1.5 miles ahead of the convoys, per carrier group. (I have 5 groups here)
"Ensign, have 2 E2-C hawkeyes launch from every carrier, have half the subs per group turn on active sonar, and all surface combatants turn all radar/sonar/stealth equipment on."
"Sir yes sir!"
"Get 2 F-14's and 2 EA-6B's up at all times from all carriers. Send this message to all ships and subs. We are to sink ANY and ALL enemy ships on site. Nosurrender, and NO prisoners. They have commited treachery on their allies, and they must be punished. And go to highest alert level. We're going to war!"
And so the great fleet began it's march north at 20 knots, the silent speed for all of the navy's subs.

This is the plan of attack:

[OOC: I planned to post this yesterday, but RL got in the way. Thus, it will span two days.]

IC:

24 Hours Ago

Commonality Executice Council Conference Room Alpha, Imperial Palace; Nenya, Ma-Nenya; Iluvauromeni Commonality of Everlasting Light (Contiguous)

"It's escalating beyond comprehension," Bao Ling reported to the Executive Council, hands folded neatly in her lap. "NIOUA can confirm that CIF satelite assets have moved into positions to accomodate a reshuffling of our orbital assets in order to monitor the situation more directly. More importantly, cislunar units have refocused their positions - it'll look a little suspicious if anyone is particuarly watching us, but nobody will be able to claim we're breaching their territory. - They are, naturally, the high-end models we have out there. Anything less would be useless at that range anyway.

"I can confirm several key facts. Firstly, as we all know, the nation known as Dregruk has begun a campaign of open warfare against numerous states. Clearly they have something useful at their command; they're obviously willing to open up several fronts. Until our intelligence is more...complete...I strongly recommend we act with extreme caution.

"The war appears to have started with shelling and invasion of two states: Falastur and Samtopia. We have had diplomatic contact with neither, but both have been the subject of limited orbital observation, of course. I can't tell you whether or not this action is related to immediately previous activity in the region, as we just don't have the focus to make those sorts of assumptions. Frankly, we've not been watching closely enough; however, I do know that there was a cease-fire between those states. I suspect that any warfare that has taken place in the past was before our current level of observation capability, for we have no records relating to it as of yet. CIF is working on that, of course.

"Falastur was ill-prepared; I suspect they will crumble entirely very quickly, although of course they might already have... but whether or not that state is entirely under Dregthuk control at this time is open to interpretation; war is always that way, as we all known. Unless we put forces into the theatre, we have no way of knowing for certain. I'm not advising that at this time, however..."

Ax-randiri Rihad waved a hand. "Sorry to interrupt, Highness, but I have to point out that Dregthuk would not stand up to the IDF - excuse me, I mean to say of course the Commonality Crown Guard; I know it's not just me that misplaces the new name from time to time," he smiled faintly, nods of agreement rippling around the Table, "but to return to my point: it would be like pitting halflings against dragons."

"Interesting analogy," Rialla commented with a wry smile, "but I fail to see that you're correct in that assessment as of yet, Ax-randiri. Wait, let my mother finish speaking first. Then we'll discuss your ideas."

The military officer - indeed, all but one of those present were in military uniforms, in point of fact - but Ax-randiri nodded and smiled faintly. He did not care that his point had been cut off thus; his word had planted a seed.

"As I was saying," Bao continued without rancour, "I don't advise military action against Dregthuk at this time.

"To move on: the situation is growing to the point where we can no longer ignore it. It essentially affects our position, now. Stability is at risk. If we do not show the willingness to act, our position such as it is will be severely weakened. And the new policy has not been announced yet; this will appear to be entirely within the current foreign policy structure - as set out earlier this year. I call for a Fear War, a war based on the protection of the civilians on both sides. Nobody in this war is using non-lethal arms; they are, in fact, all barbarians, although such words could not be uttered outside this room."

More nods of agreement.

"So. I'm sure we all remember Amerigo. In that conflict, the old Empire set itself what appeared to be an unwinnable conflictual target: we were to harrass both sides and slow the conflict significantly, to the point where it seemed impossible for either side to win. Now, we did not, in fact, achieve that goal. Yet to some I suspect it did appear so: for our sphere of influence significantly increased following that war.

"This is not Amerigo. Yet there are parallels. I strongly suggest that these be considered: firstly, Degthruk requires a sharp slap on the hand. A projection of air power might well serve as a reminder that there are always bigger fish.

"Secondly: further intervention in the war by other powers must be limited or halted altogether. I suggest that the Diplomatic Corps be ordered to direct a significant percentage of its workload to that end. If we pull this off, we might well win greater support globally - providing we do so in a proper and gentle manner. Softly, softly, as the saying used to go.

"Thirdly: we must not allow Dregthuk victory. I propose that we attempt to remain neutral, instigating non-lethal air strikes against all parties involved to attempt to dissaude them from further combat; I also propose the immediate deployment of the Vanguard Wet Battlegroup - and I strongly suggest she carry ICKMs. We may need her strike capacity before she arrives. But conventional warheads - not neutronic weapons. The world still knows not that we even have such devices; it would be wise to keep it so."

She falls silent.

Semir-randil and Rialla glance one to the other, and there is a long, long silence. Sixteen minutes worth, in fact, as the signal travels outwards to Mars and then beyond, arriving eventually at Aglar ux-Rihad's table. Irritatingly, he shrugs, and says nothing - and all that lag for that.

The High King of Nenya, Semir-randil, begins to open his lips to speak - and even more annoyingly, Aglar's voice finally arrives from Vilya Elenosto.

"Vilya Elenosto has no interest in this matter. Therefore, we abstain from all voting."

The screen goes blank, and all those present blink very quickly for a few moments.

Finally, Semir-randil speaks up: "That saves time."

"Agreed," High Lord of Ma-tek, Ax-randiri Rihad replies, with just a small arch of his eyebrow.

Rialla nods slowly, reaching out with her mind to gain a sense of the room; each mind opens freely to her gentle brush, and she smiles. "I think we have a decision, do we not?"

All nod.

"Then we go forth."

* * *

17 Hours Ago

Vanguard Wet Battlegroup, South Atlantic Ocean

The Battlegroup was small on the surface, but not so small as others in the newly reformed Commonality Crown Navy. The new Navy had a slightly different command structure as compared to the old, but little else had changed - even the uniforms were the same. The name change had little meaning, therefore, but Commodore Davell did not particuarly mind. Useless name changes had their purpose. If the enemy - whoever that might be - expected less for the name change, then it was good.

He actually stood upon the deck of his flag ship, the IDS Vanguard. It was a rare sight, to see a Nenyan stand upon a ship and gaze at the waves fondly. But he was not like most of the Nenyans in the Commonality: he had Human blood.

He was aware that this meant he would live approximately seventy years less than a Nenyan pureblood; and he was also aware that he would still live over a hundred years longer than the average Human. It was a good tradeoff... except he had inherited a more Human brain. His memory was not as good as a pureblood, either; a pureblood, for example, would not forget whether he'd remembered to ask his wife to pick up that new skycar on Wednesday (as it ought to be) or Thursday (as he seemed to remember saying).

It was infuriating. Fortunately, he never forgot matters to do with duty - unless, ironically, he was forgetting his forgetful-mindedness.

He faintly wondered how a full Human could possibly cope, then decided against further consideration. It was confusing.

He watched the waves roar towards the ship, then smash against empty air and fall back unto the sea. The MI propulsion system, for once, was active. The ship did not touch the water, for now, but drove through it, parting it as it went. It was flying, kindof. Except the MI field did not extend far beneath the waves; so the very undermost of the ship was still crashing through the water itself. It was designed for that, fortunately; otherwise he would have been very ill at ease.

The hull of the ship was unusually designed; in four sections. These were referred to as the primary, secondary, tertiary, and redundant hulls. They were all identical to each other, but each was smaller than the last. In theory - and in practice, it had been proven - a warship with a hull like this could be blown to smithereens...and still fight on, with only lessened capacity.

Therefore it took four times the firepower to destroy the ship than it would to destroy an identical ship with but one hull. And the Vanguard was well-armoured, too.

But her true strength lay in neither her defensive capacity - including anti-missile electron flux weapons - nor her speed (for she was capable of more than eighty knots in calm seas); her true strength lay in her diversity.

She was a warship, true, but she was two warships or more in one; she was a battlecruiser, capable of fighting an entire fleet to a standstill - and she was an aircraft carrier, capable of launching bombers at targets thousands of miles away from a comfortable position, or carrying her own fighter screen.

Yet she had major weaknesses. They were not easy to spot, for the impressiveness of the capacity design awed the enemy in much the way the makers had designed; but she launched her aircraft from beneath the waves, and this troubled the captain greatly.

A torpedo in the wrong place would destroy the hangars underneath the ship - and pierce the so-called redundant hull.

Fortunately, almost the entirety of the Battlegroup was submarinal. They would string a submarinal defence net about the thirteen warships at the core of the formation (all of the surface vessels of course at varying distances in a circular formation), and would also provide additional offensive strike capacity if required. But they carried no torpedoes: merely surface-to-surface missiles. Kinetics, of course - but sluggish ones compared to those launched by the surface ships.

The thirteen surface ships were of two classes; the Vanguard, both the first in her class to be built and the last following her original destruction and latter rebuilding, and her Devastator class escorts.

This was in fact the Home Fleet - by far the strongest of the four Battlegroups. Twelve Devastators, each four hundred meters in length and half that in width, utterly covered with ICKM-capable electronic launch tubes. One for every square meter on the Devastators, and one for every square meter on the Vanguard - potentially.

At the moment, however, only twenty-five percent of the upper deck on each ship was devoted to offensive capacity. The revolving upper plates had folding mechanisms, allowing them to serve dual purposes; some were comms/defence units, and some were offensive/sensor units. Switch them around and voila! the task of the ship can be served. Most of the surface of the ships were devoted to defensive units - point defence electron flux beam emittors - but a small percentage was devoted to comms and sensor operations.

It was a shame all this hardware wouldn't see any action, in a way, the captain reflected. What a monumental waste of money it all was, in that same way; yet he was glad to be on such a ship. He felt very sorry for those who had to sail in mere steel battleships, or were open and exposed on the deck of their ship.

He shivered, and slid down through the access tube again, slamming each door shut as he clambered back down to the center of the ship, through each dividing hull until finally reaching the last armour that protected the crew, deep inside the warship.

He sighed. Soon enough they would take up their position...

* * *

4 Hours Ago

International Airspace, Nr. Dregruk

Wing Commander Ales Durat chuckled faintly to himself as he weaved the eXon back and forth through the atmosphere. It was responding more ably than he'd expected; the MI-PG combination was a good one, allowing a whisper of extra maneuvering power over an X#. It wasn't much of a difference; though the ability of the cockpit to swivel inside the craft was a radical new step. The lack of interaction with the atmosphere proper, thank Eru, still remained thanks to the MI - magnetic impetus - field which actually propelled the craft. The PG (psuedo-gravitational) fields only served to 'reassign momentum' - at least, that's what the information book (a lengthy tome of over a thousand pages) had said.

Of course, he'd trained in simulators, but this was his first outing in the eXon. Previously, he, along with the rest of Alpha Squadron, had trained and flown in the M# interceptors or X# fighter/bombers. This craft, in truth, was little different.

The rest of his squadron spread out, fifty miles either side of him, plus twenty thousand feet of altitude seperating each from the next upwards or downwards.

The lowest of the aircraft was at one hundred thirty thousand feet, which, according to the premise of the formation, should be beyond most conventional aircraft.

Should.

The intel was too shaky as yet to be sure, but as the war progressed, things would improve, he knew.

And Alpha was the best of the best. That was why they, of all the Crown Air Force, had been selected. In his mind, the CAF was the best of the best - but several other air forces would argue with that suggestion, he knew. He'd fought against at least one of them.

Now the Squadron - technically the 1 'Alpha' Air Assault Squadron - was slowing (and had significantly lowered altitude) from hypersonic as it approached (relatively) Dregruk airspace.

There was at least two thousand miles air between the Squadron and Dregruk, but that was a hop and a skip away for the ICEL warplanes.

The Wing Commander, allowing himself another small chuckle and ignoring the slimey texture of the liquid perfluorocarbon slushing about in his lungs (he had been informed that the sensation was all in his mind, after all), flicked the toggle that sent the pre-recorded message via radio waves into Dregruk.

Anybody listening would hear it; the message was amplified greatly by all fifty-seven aircraft sending simultaneously, plus the cislunar satelites had chipped in and added their power, firing the signal at the Earth.

"No way they didn't hear that," Ales muttered, his voice muffled by the high oxygen-to-blood ratio environment.


Greetings Dregruk,

We the Commonality henceforth order the state of Dregruk to stand down. We are aware that this order will be ignored. Therefore, when compliance is not stated within the next four hours, we will make a more poignant comment regarding the current situation.


* * *

{ICEL Executive Council Communique #4}
{ROUTE: CGHC --> MISAT-01-A --> MISAT-GRID ----> Various}
{SUBJECT: RE: Dregruk Conflict}

"All be advised that the Commonality will henceforth be engaging in combat maneuvers to limit the level of combat in this conflict. Those who do not wish to engage our forces are advised to withdraw immediately.

"Dregruk has been ordered by the Commonality to stand down with immediate effect. Therefore, be aware that this action is entirely neutral in intent, and is for the benefit of those People of those States who stand at the brink of war or beyond. We fight not the People, but the Governments who would throw their People unto death for a war in which no effort has yet been made to find peaceful resolution.

"We do not declare active war against any state who might face our forces. We further pledge not to utilize lethal armaments wherever such possibility exists, but reserve the right to respond with equal force to any attack against any of our assets."

{Communique Terminates}

[OOC: I'll probably go right ahead and declare stuff in the OOC thread, regarding capacities and such.

One note: the last part of the post, the communique to 'various' states, is directed at all and any currently involved. Those who become involved can consider this message automatically sent to them; I'm not gonna post it over and over again! ;)

Acronyms:

ICKM - Inter-Continental Kinetic Missile. No warhead, just flies at a target real fast and goes boomity. Two ton yield TNT equivalent per missile, typically, but the yield can be varied by altering impact speed upwards or downwards. I'll always inform if that's the case, however.

EDIT - 'electron launch tubes' corrected to 'eletronic launch tubes'.]

The First Austian Ships to spy the enermy fleet where the 20 Nanjing ships, the small vessles immdietly radioed Austian high command the position of the most outerlying enermy ships and within mirrors the first Planes began to take off from the decks of the Air Craft Carriers.
-------
The First planes of Green wing toughed down on the runway, sparks flying up as there wheels shuddered to a halt, immdietly the piolets taxied in making way for the other airoplanes, and then the planes where reloaded, readying for combat that very night.


-------
The Austian legions set off, the men of the ASS and Deaths Head ASS leading the way followed by the Snow Panthers legion. The army travelled many diffrent ways, all towards the provence that had been take by the enermy.

They approched mainly from the south attempting to flank the main enermy force that was heading for the capital and to take the enermy by suprise, from what they knew there allies where holding back the enermy force, but only just, a attack from the side though would knock the enermy forces of balance.

OOC: Dregluk can you RP out a few of your troops (Ie maybe just a few squads that have been detatched to take a village or something,) taking a village near my forces, so i can have a first skirmish between my troops and yours? It would be best set in a village, as that gives me a idea for somthing.

An official communique was sent to Ma-tek. It reads:
"This is the leader of the largest naval presence in this theater, Fehrer Christopher Thompson speaking to the neutral nation of Ma-tek. We have, through laborious debating reasoned that trying to talk to the maniac nation of Dregruck is pointless; they already broke a peace pact, why not again? We therefore resolve to attempt to destroy the naval presence here, and bombard the land presence for two reasons: First, this was a dastardly attack, and they have attacked, therefore it constitutes an action, and second, Falastur is an ally in the Legion of Defense, and I am compelled to protect him; my honor and word are both on the line there.
We have not yet taken any offensive actions, and ask that you do not do so against us. Any and all actions, lethal or not, can and will be percived as an intimate threat, as per our protocol, and will be dealt with accordingly. Please remember: You have done nothing to warrant a fight with me, and I would like it to remain so. Most sincerely,
Christopher Thompson
OOC: Dregruck, what are your naval forces here, and where are your naval forces here? We're going to RP some navy action.

<snip>
"This is the leader of the largest naval presence in this theater, Fehrer Christopher Thompson speaking to the neutral nation of Ma-tek. We have, through laborious debating reasoned that trying to talk to the maniac nation of Dregruck is pointless; they already broke a peace pact, why not again? We therefore resolve to attempt to destroy the naval presence here, and bombard the land presence for two reasons: First, this was a dastardly attack, and they have attacked, therefore it constitutes an action, and second, Falastur is an ally in the Legion of Defense, and I am compelled to protect him; my honor and word are both on the line there.
We have not yet taken any offensive actions, and ask that you do not do so against us. Any and all actions, lethal or not, can and will be percived as an intimate threat, as per our protocol, and will be dealt with accordingly. Please remember: You have done nothing to warrant a fight with me, and I would like it to remain so. Most sincerely,
Christopher Thompson
<snip>

"No reason has been given for us to cease our current strategy. Therefore, no special treatment can be accorded to the state of Christopher Thompson or its naval forces."

~ High Lord Ambassador Dejure (High Lord, Ax-turath)

Far out from the choking, polluted atmosphere of the earth, beyond the reach and sight of telescopes, a small light flickered in the blackness of space. The light would have been unregarded, had anyone even been bothered to regard it for unregarding, as it were. The fact nobody saw it was a shame, since it would undoubtedly have caused a sensation. The light was, after all, moving. Had there been anyone sitting in that stygian darkness to see, it would have appeared to hurtle past at an unimaginable velocity, screaming towards the embattled earth.

The ship’s pilot was currently resting, gathering strength for the hunt. Around him, trophies of past expeditions hung from the walls, testimony to the honour and skill of the hunter who had gathered them. Polished ranks of weapons and the most prized possession, the mask of the hunter, lay in an exquisitely carved case. At the stern of the small, swift vessel, shaped like a bullet with engines scabbed crudely to the sides and underbelly, a smaller ship rode, snugly housed within the hull, contained by magnetic locks. With a groan, the pilot awoke from his restful slumber. He knew where he was, for two of his kind had already visited this planet, challenged the creatures that dominated its surface, and paid for it with their lives. Nonetheless, he was an adventurer, and the thrill of hunting the creatures was worth the risk; in fact, the risk merely raised the pleasure of hunting them.

The pilot donned his facemask, attaching the lines for respiration, and cycled through the vision modes, watching the metal walls of his craft change in appearance with mild interest whilst he gathered his weaponry to him. A small light winked at him from a panel recessed into the wall, accompanied by a buzzer, telling him that the shuttle was ready and that it would release shortly. The pilot walked to the craft’s main computer and made an adjustment to the orbit settings, then checked through them for the final time before striding aft through the decks to his shuttle.

Above the darkened side of the earth, the ship dived towards the atmosphere. Some 18 miles above the surface of the planet, the shuttle, with a hiss and a roar of engines, departed its mothership, which obligingly disappeared into the murk. Plunging down into the atmosphere, heat-shielded hull glowing with the heat of friction, the shuttle approached with appalling speed the land of Crealir. The shuttle’s huge fusion-powered braking jets fired a mere 2,000 metres above the ground. No human could have survived the impact; but then, the pilot was hardly human.

OOC: Lethislavania and all other nations: what and where is your naval presence here? (only tht which has fought, or can be seen from the air) I need to know, and where are the mine fields in the water?

>snip<Above the darkened side of the earth, the ship dived towards the atmosphere...>snip<

Yet not entirely unnoticed did it go. Indeed, some eyes watched very vigilantly indeed; but vigilance of a machine is only limited. And thus although the coming of the object was noted, its notice was utterly irrelevant; for no Sentient was informed in the Commonality of its passing. After all, thousands - if not hundreds of thousands - of ships passed to and fro every year. What more was one?

Bump

OOC: Falastur has a navy of more than 1,000 large ships (ie Cruisers, Battleships, Carriers, not little coastal defence ships). Around 500 are in and around Crealirean waters, but they are dispersed and divided up into a number of fleets, hence why they will appear slowly, and not immediately. I expect a larger fleet (ie around 100 ships) will arrive within 24 hours of where we are up to so far, but its not there yet.

OOC: I should mention that Predator ships are cloaked to pretty much anything and can only be picked up by gravity-anomaly sensors (this is according to all the background information I have). I'm not trying to godmode or anything, nor to somehow make it so the ship's "OMFG UNDETECTABLE!", and I'm reluctant to say it, because of course nobody's ever explained how it actually works; that natuarally makes me think it's susceptible to godmoding, intended or not. Anyway, it should be basically impossible to detect it.

I would also like to metion to Demonic Hunters that this is a MODERN-TECH RP that can have SLIGHTLY future tech, not "Cloaked" ships. That's a FUTURE-TECH war. FYI.

OOC: Lethislavania and all other nations: what and where is your naval presence here? (only tht which has fought, or can be seen from the air) I need to know, and where are the mine fields in the water?

where are the mine fields in the water?
ALL OTHER NATIONS WHO ARE ONLINE AND DO NOT REPLY BY 5:05 central american time: I WILL ASSUME THAT YOU HAVE NO NAVAL PRESENCE HERE, AND WILL IGNORE ANY NAVAL PRESENCE THAT YOU FORGOT TO MENTION THAT APPLIES TO THESE TERMS (IE: SURFACE SHIP).
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED
btw, where are the mine fields in the water?

Off The Coast of Mentorin, Zero Hour, Fleet Gdansk

"Yes Comrade, all ready, firing from all capable vessels." A voice said in the dark, the day was light up as the cruise missiles left their berth, heading into Falastur, where they hit, most were targetted at the defences, of what there were, whatever the else landed on, no-one cared for.

The Sky was broken by the screech of bombers and their escorts boosting their engines, going to drop their deadly payload.

Admiral Kyzan Overlooked the calm waters, he was getting on now, but he still had some life left in him, and he was experienced, and here, experience paid, why falastur? he didnt question his orders.

The dark shapes of troop transports loomed in the distance, Elite Shock Troopers and their Armour, the Peoples Office of Offense had thought of Falasturs defenders highly, normally it was down to the hundreds of thousands of conscripts, but no, Elite Shock troopers, 600,000 of them, supported by their attached artillery and 1,000 MBT's..

Coast of Mentorin Province

The Transports hit the coast, tanks rolled out and fired their first shot, bullets crackled into the sky as the Shock Troopers charged out by their tank, and the clunk of the mortars began, the sounds of those running were loud, almost as loud as the sound of the bombs falling.

The Tanks fired into the buildings Mercilessly, and Troopers slaughtered most of who they found, leaving a few to be questioned.

And this was just the coastal towns.

OOC: I'm well aware that this is a modern-tech RP. However, that's how Predators work: they drop onto the planet. The ship waits in orbit somewhere else and the little shuttle pod waits, camouflaged as far as possible, on the planet. It's not hugely important, since Ma-tek didn't use it to nail the ship or anything, but it adds a bit of atmosphere - nobody knows where the thing's come from or how it got there, and then people start to die...anyway, yeah. So though it may be mod-tech, this is just future-tech being used for atmosphere value. Hell, it's not as if I'm gonna have a lone Predator, a creature whose main role and pleasure in life is to hunt, annihilate whole armies, or use his ship to do that either.

Bump;
All Online Naval Players Have 5 Min To Respond To My Above Post

[OOC: Cough-cough. This is an IC thread. If you need to talk OOC, please do it here. (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=7457025&posted=1#post7457025)]

Bump All Naval Players Have 1 Minute To Respond To My Post!!!

(Last OOC) Of course; sorry Dregruk and everyone. *Looks suitably humble*

"Interim President Nalonis," an aide told the national leader, "an ally is under attack."

"Who is being attacked and by whom?" asked Nalonis the elf.

"Dregruk attacked Falastur," explained the aide.

"Falastur!?" exclaimed Nalonis. "But that nation is an important returning member nation of the Legion of Defense, recently brought back! We must do somthing immediately!"

"But sir, our nation is on the brink of a civil war," the aide said. "We cannot afford to send any troops.

"Yes we can," said Nalonis. "We can ready a minor attack force and send more later if it is needed."


Nanakan Special Forces Mobilization Squad
Troops
2000 Special Forces
1000 Elite Special Forces

Vehicles
100 Standard Nanakan Army Helicopters IV (SNAH IVs)
50 Advanced Nanakan Army Helicopters II (ANAH IIs)

Special Forces in Nanakaland are special troops designed to fight in geurilla wars or foreign conflicts in a unique way. They travel via helicopters (or parachute from planes if there is a truely massive number) and can go weeks behind enemy lines without backup (thus are usually first troops to enter conflict; don't need much logistics). Elite Special Forces are stealthier and better trained. Both forces, unlike normal Special Forces, take training as regular troops first and then take extra stealth training and become masters of survival arts and hand-to-hand combat. Thus, they are not just behind-enemy-lines forces, but can also do front line combat if it comes to it. Special Forces are the most important type of soldiers in the Nanakan army, but as a downside, the Nanakan forces are smaller and tend to not get fully involved in conflicts. Special Forces are not perfect, but are definately the elite of Nanakaland.

Both helicopters are new, improved versions (versus the last time I RPed war several months ago) that now fit 20 people per helicopter. Special Forces are in the SNAH IVs, Elite Special Forces in ANAH IIs. The reason the ANAHs have a lower number is that they are a newer model and thus have had less updates. ANAHs are generally better than SNAHs and are designed for stealth. Helicopters are the vehicle of choice in Nanakaland. While the Nanakans have tanks, airplanes, boats, and other vehicles, they tend to specialize in helicopters, especially due to the fact that they rarely get fully involved in a conflict. Like mentioned earlier, Nanakaland rarely gets involved fully in wars (leaving a large force defending the homeland because the nation has been surprise-invaded before), prefering to support allies using (Elite) Special Forces and helicopters to easilly mobilize and leave at their will.

Only the special forces, mobilized by helicopters, will currently be involved. No navy. No air force (except for maybe some airstrikes later). No major army mobilizations. Yes, Nanakaland has a much larger military. No, the logistics prevent us from using any more than a few on conflicts such as these. Our economy and population allow us to have a huge force. We decide to use a small one.

[OOC Note to Post: Nanakaland is a March 2003 nation, deleted, resurrected, deleted, then reresurrected. Thus it has the weird population of 2.164 billion. My RP excuse for the second deletion: the nation was frozen under an ice cap created by a mad scientist for some time. Have I been clear enough?]

Encrypted Telegram
TO: Falasturian Government
FROM: Nanakaland Interim President Nalonis
RE: Forces

This message is to the Legion of Defense member nation of Falastur, in particular, its government. We must be brief for time is short, but I will say my message.

Nanakaland is unable to fully mobilize any forces yet. However, we are sending approximately 3000 soldiers in 150 helicopters (yes, 20 per helicopter, seems a lot, but isn't considering the massive forces). They are Special Forces and Elite Special Forces using the latest models of our two most powerful helicopters (SNAH IV and ANAH II). They will be heading toward your nation to help in your defense (they can do geurilla urban warefare in the streets if nothing else).

They are skilled in stealth and thus should be able to enter barely being noticed. Let them through so that they can help defend. While they are Special Forces, all Special Forces are first trained as normal troops, so at the very least they will be able to aid on front line combat. The ANAH IIs can be used on sneaking up on enemies and have okay weaponry (some firepower sacrificed for stealth). The SNAH IVs are very powerful helicopters and can be equiped with several missles that can decimate enemy forces.

Each helicopter en route carries 20 forces, a crew, and some weaponry. In order to fill them to their capacity on weapons and troops, they do not have too many supplies with them and will be needed to be given some food upon arrival. Every helicopter has a unit commander (included in forces count) and every 10 helicopters has a commander of 10 units onboard. One of the ANAHs has a high ranking officer to command the force.

I hope that they will not be too much of a drain on your supplies. Though, because they are the elite fighting forces they will make up for whatever resources they use by fighting the enemy. The helicopters are on carrier ships and once within flying distance of Falastur will need to fly to the nation (because the carriers are unarmed). Thus, they may also need some feul, but otherwise, they will be good fighters and the troops will help your nation survive.

Once the first major battles are done, some humanitarian aid will be sent to make up for the drain on resources our men may be.

~ Nalonis

Nanakaland, this is Admiral Chrisotph Alexander of The Holy Imperial Navy of The Holy Empire of Christopher Thomspson. We would love to have the uttermost honor in diverting our forces here to guard your carriers for the duration that they are in these waters. We are currently sending our five divisions (to see what is in a division, see my website) to guard your carriers and will escort your helicopters to land if you so wish. Please respond in favor or against this proposal as soon as possible.
In the best regards,
Admiral Christoph Alexander
Admiral of The Holy Imperial Navy
P.S., if you say yes, don't worry about fuel and food. We have 2 AOE-6 supply ships in each naval division which have a profuse ammount of fuel and food, and your supplyment of fuel and food could be easily arranged.

We except your offer as our carriers are unarmed (we were unfortunately unable to spare any armed naval ships from their regular patrols of Nanakaland). We would respond with a longer message, but time is short.

OOC: Quick note: Christopher Thompson, if you continue to flood the threat with OOC comments and bumps (Even though the last post was 3 minutes ago), you will be removed from the RP and your actions ignored. I don't like to make warnings such as this to people, but you are really trying my patience. If you want to make OOC comments, use the damned OOC thread I created for the purpose!

I don't have time to make my next IC post at the moment, so expect it in a few hours.

The ships had been readied. The young men waited silently, for the sharp yell of the go ahead. The small boats most were sitting in swayed slightly in the breeze.

Casa stood on the rail, smoking a cigar. The plumes of smoke spiraled upwards, casting a hazy glow. The thick aroma fueled him in an odd, almost spiritual way. Sighing, he pulled over in officer. He turned, and looke at him, Casa's eye's piercing him like daggers. "Go..." He turned around, and the officer nodded.

The officer ran down the cold, forebidding grey hallway to the command centre. "Men, sound the call. It has begun!" He smiled, turning red. This is what he had lived for; this is why he spent his life training. He was going to war under a great general. There was no way that they were going to lose.

The boats fired up, near the edge of where we thought most the mines were. They quickly dhot over the water, sending a quick stream of spray into the air. Behind them, the slighly larger Dragoon Ships followed, although by no means slowly.

Of course, in the distance, the Alejandro stood, beaconing trouble. Casa loomed over the top, binoculars in hand. "By god... I think we'll make it..."

Samtonia was about to feel the wrath of the Sabres.

A mighty ship of legless pirates suddenly appeared out of no where, but was sunk with a warning shot....

OOC: Just need to clear something up, Nanakaland, the Arenumberg i offered to be joined into the LoD or whatever, lol, is my future tech self, this is taking place my modern tech self that is seperate, so i would like it to not affect the other, or is this not possible?

The base on Crealir was a hive of activity, with more and more troops and armour landing all the time. Under orders from Colonel Nathan Carthage, the men and tanks were formed into three separate army groups; one would attack to the north, entering the province of Manira and attempting to take the cities of Las Pavita and San Neiro; a second army group would launch a massive assault, led by Colonel Carthage himself, into Yerente and with the objective of Pavlita; the third group would head southwards, into the province of Felatrin.

With the groups formed, the armies marched onwards, launching the first major land attack of the war.

"Alright men, here's the deal. There are two unarmed chopper carriers that are going to drop off special ops on our alliy's invaded territory. We're going to be their guard." And with the Admiral's orders to a close, all ships made a b-line at 32 knots for the carriers. (They will keep the same formation per carrier group, but will form a pentagon around the carriers)
(SRY about the ooc stuff, it won't happen again!)

The base on Crealir was a hive of activity, with more and more troops and armour landing all the time. Under orders from Colonel Nathan Carthage, the men and tanks were formed into three separate army groups; one would attack to the north, entering the province of Manira and attempting to take the cities of Las Pavita and San Neiro; a second army group would launch a massive assault, led by Colonel Carthage himself, into Yerente and with the objective of Pavlita; the third group would head southwards, into the province of Felatrin.

With the groups formed, the armies marched onwards, launching the first major land attack of the war.
Seeing the enermy's movements, the Austian forces stopped Across the main Highway and began to dig in, spades and shovels cutting the tarmac, soon the trenches ran from the sea to the end of the highway, then they curled back on themselves so as to form a ring, with the sea at there backs and a large U shaped curl around the front.

Meanwhile, the admiral picked up his encrypted phone and spoke, "Nanakaland, we have surrounded you and will now move out to coordinates 158.698.457. at 20 knots. Please try to stay in the center of our pentagon formation, and try to maintain speed with us. This should be close enough to launch your helicopters, at which point we will send 10 SH-60 Seahawk Helicopters with ammunition, food and suel for your helicopters and personnel, and will guard each of our choppers and yours with 2 F-14 Tomcats. ETA to chopper lift-off it 4 (NS) hrs.

"Rodger that," replied Major Norman Aderson. "I will personally be in one of the helicopters in the defensive force. I am the highest ranking officer here, so I will do any official communications and negotiations. I have just told the captain of the flagship to stay in the center of the formation.

We are not completely defenseless, however. SNAH IVs can help fight a threat, but they take about fifteen minutes to deploy and have limited firepower (so we need immediate defenses).

On a later date, we will repay you for your help (even if that means mobilizing our navy to help you). Remember, these are just the first of possibly a huge mobilization."

Group Ops Room; IDSS Vanguard, North Atlantic Ocean, 1,282mi west of Dregruk: at anchor

Commodore Davell stared at the image of the surrounding waters, noting the fleets apparently converging on one point. The Battlegroup was to remain here, in a position to give rapid reach to her heavy-bomber complement and to provide a nearby naval support unit should such be needed.

Some twelve MISAT satelites, by now, had converged above the Battlegroup, providing several angles of approach for her missiles into the area considered to be the most likely combat theatre; most of these were the newer MISATmk1cs, almost identical to the bs but for marginally improved optical arrays (also known by the amusing name 'telescopes').

Nothing was really happening as yet, although he was certain that someone would pick a fight with his Battlegroup. It was, to his mind, the obvious thing to do. The ICEL Battlegroup was without doubt (to Davell) the deadliest naval taskforce in the area (that Davell knew about, at least), so it would make sense to cripple it to prove the strength of whatever navy such an Admiral was serving.

Admiral was such an odd-sounding rank. It was usually reserved, in the Commonality, for officers who had displayed especially exceptional ability in the role of a Commodore - which, in the Navy, was just a notch below an Admiral. There were no Admirals at the current time; none of the five Commodores of the Navy had yet proved their worth to the Crown Guard hierarchy fully. Excepting the High King, of course; he was likely to be involved in some of the decisions above Davell's head. Davell was eminently comfortable with being under that man's command; the Vanguard was really his ship. Everybody thought that was the way it ought to be; but the Vanguard was under the command of Davell - most of the time. Sometimes the High King had assumed command, however; usually in critical matters.

That he was not here gave Davell great heart indeed, still. For surely it would not be that great a difficult task ahead? He knew the High King trusted him, however, for he had told him so.

"I trust you," he'd said. Which was pretty much all there was to say on the matter. Not a man to mince words. Not really a man beyond gender, either, Davell pondered with a small smile upon his lips. It was strange how Human terms infected language that way.

The smile drew the attention of his flag captain, who was actually commanding IDS Balance of Power, the lead Devastator-class cruiser.

The captain smiled at him from the TVC 'visor set into the arm panel of the commodore's command chair: "What are you thinking about, old friend?"

"Just smiling to remind myself that mirth occurs even in battle," the commodore lied smoothly.

* * *

Nr. Dregruk airspace (+1,000mi west)

Alpha Squadron stirred not as the minutes ticked past, humming on the air with a thrumming vibration more quiet than a jet but louder than a car and carrying rather far; but no radio contact occurred between the aircraft and anything else. Radio silence is strictly maintained.

Of course, that doesn't mean that a string of laser comms doesn't flash between the entire squadron-

"So, how's that cat of yours doing, still vomiting, Starshine?-" "-not as bad as she was, buddy, my brother said he'll make sure-" "-of course, Fleetwind, I took out the bottom part first, so it made it a little more tough, you know? Man, did it make it tough! I swear they never make-" "-never gonna happen. There ain't no way that no stupid speakin' fella ever gonna make it to be a CAF pilot-"

The Nanakan people were masters at deception. It wasn't so much lying as it was leaving out some important facts. It was a survival thing. The Nanakan people had been backstabbed so many times in their long history, that they only told their allies what the allies needed to hear.

The true reason the only a small force was sent and that the carriers were unarmed was that the Nanakan military was secretly preparing for combat. Dregruk was planned to be invaded and wiped off the map. It wasn't just that, though. Nanakaland was also on the brink of civil war and the Interim President knew it. He had to sneak off half the army to attack while keeping the other half of the army at Nanakaland ready to declare martial law on the streets of Nanakaland if necissary. If a civil war were to start soon, the Nanakan forces would have to pull out any support (except the Special Forces) and bring them back to the homefront.

Samtonian Coast

"Down scope."

Commander Norm Anderson stalked away from the command section of the Samtonian Fast Attack Sub(FAS) the "Norma Jean" and glanced once more at the sonar projections. They'd been following the huge battleship and its supporting squadron for two hours now and were finally in a position to make an attack run.

"So we've got acoustic mines here, here, and here, blocking the three best approaches and they've just launched?"

The young sonar operator nodded apprehensively. "Aye sir. They've sent in their lighter ships through the edge of one minefield while their speedboats are simply going over the top of it. That capship is just sitting out to sea and observing, but safe to say they'll open up soon enough. Nothing else in the area sir."

Anderson nodded, standing up and moving to the command bridge again. "Well, helmsman, bring us around to heading 657. Half power increase, three degree tilt. Weapons officer, arm torpedo tubes four to eight with ASMT-4s and open tubes. Prepare to fire at waypoint 45. Target: Battleship Designation "Stygian. On my mark......and fire now. Tubes one and two, away. Mark and load. Tubes three and four, away. Mark and load. Tubes five and six away. Mark and load, come to new course designation at this point helm."

He smiled. It was pure joy in the grizzled submariner's heart to see a plan of attack proceed.

+++++++++

Underneath the waves, the silent submarine slowly began moving forwards, skirting the edge of a clump of mines that it was lying near and approaching the massive bulk of the battleship. The damned thing was too close to surface and radio the proper authorities about the invasion proceeding, but the sinking of the damned thing should alert them fast enough.

Suddenly, a pair of torpedos came flying out of its silent bulk, disturbing the water in ripples of the black ocean water. A moment later, another two came out and were promptly followed by another pair. All were headed for the massive bulk of the battleship.

Two for the engine block and the unprotected screws that powered the ship, as well as the massive nuclear reactors or the even larger conventionally fuekld engines that ran the thing. The rest of the torpedoes, all for the battleship's midline, where Samtonian engineers believed the magazines of that brand of battleship were located. Even if they weren't located there, the massive loads of C-7 contained within the torpedoes would be enough to ruin any ship's day in one torpedo strike, let alone four.

The unsuspecting ship was about to be reminded of the reason for escort ships. Reminded in an explosive manner indeed.

Al-Imvadjah, as a member of the Legion of Defense, will be openly supporting Falastur in its defense. The total number of troops to be deployed to the conflict has not yet been decided, but we are prepared to see this through to the end.

As of now, only the Air Force and special ops have been activated, but it is expected that several armored divisions will be brought in as well.

The ships got closer to Falastur. Once within flying distance, an ANAH II was launched. The helicopter had 20 Elite Special Forces onboard and they were going to make sure that there was a clear path to the Falasturian cost. The carriers were going to move slightly closer before launching the rest of the helicopters, but one scout had to be launched first.

"Alright," said the pilot. "All is clear. We are leaving sight of the carrier group. Using encryped communications." The helicopter moved further from the fleet. "ANAH II-4371 reporting in. I think I see an enemy ship.... No wait! I see an enemy fleet. Dregruk navy, possibly.... Pulling out now. Take an alternate route when you launch the other 'copters.... An enemy missile being launched. Dropping flares.... Going at top speed!" There was a pause. "Mayday! Mayday! Helicopter going down! Heading toward Falasturian coast!" There was static for a while. Then, another radio signal came in.

"All four crew killed," said a voice, "three Elite Special Forces also killed. Four of us are wounded. The helicopter is down. We're going to go by foot to look for some friendlies."


"What have I done?" asked Major Anderson.

"Nothing," replied a soldier. "It's not your fault. If I where you, I'd tell our escorts to hurry so we can get to a safe spot to launch our helicopters. Our forces probably will be able to pick up the survivors from the crash - if we get to them before the enemy does."

Among the thick-leaved trees, he waited, minutely examining his equipment, feeding on the small creatures he had hunted during the day for food. His race always liked warzones. The game was armed and alert, and that only increased the honour obtained by their death. Glancing through the thick canopies of leaves, he kept watch for any soldiers, and examined with curiosity the small, eight-legged creature that crawled over his body. He had never seen a spider before.

"Alright, let's rock and roll!" The Admiral excitedly proclaimed.
"Sir yessir!"
"Launch the 10 choppers, and 60 F-14's, direct them to guard as we planned."
"Yes, sir"
And as was said, it was made done. Within five minutes, 60 F-14 had all screamed off of their respective decks, and the 10 choppers were were taking off and moving into position. Th eadmiral then picked up his secure phone.
"This is Admiral Christoph Alexander hailing the fleet of Nanakaland, we are ready and in position. Please launch your choppers. The route that we will take will stretch your fuel limits, as ours, but will place us well around the enemy. Please proceed to coordinates 578.263.547. now, and we will commence operations. The route is being sent to you via secure encrypted data link now."
OOC: whenever he takes off, we'll commence operations, regardless of wheather i'm there or not.

"Rodger that," replied Major Anderson. "We're in position. All 149 helicopters here are preparing to launch from the carrier group." Within 15 minutes, 25 helicopters had launched with many more on their way. The destination was the far end of forest that the downed ANAH II crashed in.

He continued, "We're going to take this 25 helicopters at a time with a small gap in between them so enemy radar does not detect too much. There is a large clearing in the forest big enough for the helicopters to land in, yet small enough to hide the helicopters. From there, the Special Forces will take any path to the nearest Falasturian city.

"Nanakan Transport Vehicles (NTVs) and some Nanakan Armored Transport Vehicles (NATVs) are being paradropped to that location as we speak via some planes. There will be about 10 each in total. In the forest clearing, we will set up a remote base-of-commands for Falastur, Nanakaland, and their allies. It will be done via portable tents, so we will be able to move it if we are spotted. Reinforcements can parachute in if needed."

Group Ops Room; IDSS Vanguard, North Atlantic Ocean, 1,282mi west of Dregruk: at anchor

"Looks like the naval action is beginning," the soft-toned voice of the Military Liason Officer, Sarah, an ASI (Artificial Semantic Intelligence) who was not physically present but observing and relaying data from satelites above, and interacting with the warships in the 'group, commented. "A helicopter was just downed. Looks like they came in hot on the Falasturn coastline; I've routed the co-ords to your command console, commodore."

Davell grunted in acknowledgement, then scowled. "We'll have to launch one of the G# heavy-strike bombers, on orders to re-route to Turath Alpha Field, to free up space. Request a diversion of three X# fighters from cislunar space - they should be here in about an hour. Those same fighters can escort in the dropship I'm requesting; we'll be doing some mercy runs, and I'll want at least fifty more on hot standby at all times. On second thoughts..."

Davell stood and wandered down the steps from the Nest, and took the few steps necessary to reach the primary TacOps station. He leaned over his officer and murmoured in his ear quietly; a display sprang into being almost the next instant, displaying CSF Battlegroup and Squadron positions.

"Okay, thanks, son," Davell acknowledged, whirling on his heel to return to the Nest. There had been no need for him to move; beyond having aching thighs, that is. He'd been sitting in the chair too damn long already.

"Sarah, I need CSF Command to authorize the 4 Stellar Squadron to divert to near-Earth space, specifically to bring their complement of dropships within forty minutes of our position. The 4 is the only Squadron carrying both Medical Corps and Lancers; and I have little doubt that our medtechs are going to need support on the ground. And have Naval Command acquisition one or two aquatic transports from the 3 Naval Battlegroup, with immediate diversion to our position. Have em' bring in some whirlybirds; the eXons aren't efficient at low altitude, and nor are our G#s."

Sarah noted her compliance immediately-

* * *

{...and she redirected the commands through the military MESH, each command being accepted within moments by the appropriate officers. Those acceptances, she noticed, were then also acknowledged by the Supreme Commander and the CinC of the Commonality Crown Guard; apparently this operation was of higher priority than she had realised. The 750ms response time showed that all of these requests had been expected, and even planned for.

She further noted that the 4 Stellar Squadron, conveniantly enough, was sitting right there - albeit moving out already - in cislunar space, oriented towards Dregruk...}

* * *

Davell scratched his chin faintly. "TacOps, fire a few ultrasonic stun missiles into Samtonia. Have the satelites randomly assign targets; verified infantry positions only. Say, one hundred twenty five missiles, burst pattern one-three-one."

[OOC: That last attack represents one hundred twenty five missiles, twenty-five metre effective radius for unconsciousness, twenty-nine meter effective radius temporary deafness (lasts about two hours, no long-lasting effects except to those of the Orcish persuasion, who seem to suffer permanent deafness but aren't knocked unconscious). No casualties: just soldiers stunned to unconsciousness. At this stage, accuracy levels are not high: therefore, one in seven at most should find its target. You can't hear the blast, either. It's silent. And there's no explosion: the missile just sets off the burst at about five feet above the ground, then hits the ground and self-vapourizes.]

While thirteenteen Elite Special Forces pressed on through the forest to find a way out, the four wounded stayed behind at the crash site of the ANAH II. The helicopter was damaged, but it could be used as a make-shift shelter. While the gunner was dead, a helicopter gun was still working, providing some defense. The four wounded soldiers were there because they'd just slow down their companions and increase the chance of the enemy getting them.

The wounded hoped that a Nanakan rescue party would reach them before the enemy and they would be rescued and carried to a hospital. However, they had more to fear than the Dregruk. There was something in the forest out there and it wasn't quite human...

The Dunes Lounge, Capital City of Blythe, North Lotusland Occupied Territory

Major John Boxhead of the Dregruk Occupation Force ordered another beer and sat at the bar alone. The enlisted men might recognize him, but likely not. He was out of uniform and enjoying what the city had to offer. The fighting had never really come into the city. Token infantry resistance had been set up in the plains and on the highways surrounding the city...but essentially he felt they'd have had more difficulty invading a junior high school back home. Now he was stuck here on garrison duty to sit out the rest of the war.

The local that sat down next to him was a bombshell...and not the kind he expected to find fired at him in a hostile territory. She was tall, curvey and red-headed. "Hi there...name's Sally. Can I buy you a drink?"

"You might not want to," his Dregruk accent making his point clear.

"Oh, I know who you are Major Boxhead. Young, ambitious...well educated. We're not without our information you know."

"You've got to be kidding me, right?"

"What's so funny? Sure, you could blow the whistle on me...but hear me out. You're going to be working here the rest of this war. And look at the array of forces allied against Dregruk. You're going to lose, your nation is going to be disarmed and sooner or later you're going to be out of a job. Arrest me if you want...but I'm your only chance here. If you don't...practice this phrase...'would you like to supersize that?' "

Boxhead sighed. He knew she was right. If Dregruk won the war...unlikely despite their early successes...it wasn't really going to help his career. He'd made enemies in the wrong places and now he was stuck cooling his heels in underpopulated wasteland with nothing to look forward to but fried dove for the rest of his days. And if they lost...no, she was right about that to. It's not if, but when.

"What's your proposition?"

"Information on supply movements. Particularly naval movements. We know you're highly tied up in logistics."

"Payment?"

"Cash if you want it...but the real treat is this. You stay with us after the war...as a general."

"And after selling out my country, what makes you think I'm going to be loyal to yours."

"Simple. No one back home is going to make you as happy as I am."

She took his hand and lead him toward the door...

OOC: Lets wait and give Falastur a chance to post, lol.

OOC: Nanakaland, I hope you don't mind me doing some slight RP of your forces.

IC: "How much longer can they damn well be?" asked a Nanakan spec ops soldier.
"Can't be too long," replied his comrade. "We can hold out 'til they get here anyway." He patted the intact helicopter machinegun absently. "With this here, we can make it."

-------------------------------

He loped through the trees, between the branches, enjoying the exercise, but alert all the same. Periodically, the Predator would stop to check his surroundings, clawed finger resting on the key that cycled his vision modes back and forward, checking for threats and targets. He was moving in what he gauged to be the rough direction of the loud noise he had heard the day before while resting. His name, though no man would know it, was Bat'haq. Hre was a blooded Predator, having made many, many hunts; but Earth had never been one of his hunting grounds, until now. The forest was a fine place to hunt, he thpought. It was cool, making his targeting easier, and the trees were tall and dense, helping him to blend in. And the game was plentiful, alert, honourable to hunt... He paused in his jog as a faint flash of red flickered through the boughs, adjusting his stance. Crouching on the branch he stood upon, he watched that tantalising red flash, then began laboriously climbing up the tree for a better look.

Six hours, twelve minutes & thirteen seconds later Jared’s Second came through the door, he was their man on the street, he kept people talking about anything until they talked about something. Then it was jut a case of making use of whatever that information happened to be, usually nothing exciting.

“So then Cornelius, what do you have for me tonight?” They may of been soldiers, considered themselves as such and proven themselves occasionally but between them all hierarchy could wait till it mattered.

“Bad news sir, our little operation is about to be caught up in a war. The country has been invaded & worse than that the front line is walking its way here. Right now.” Cornelius was a young man, as were they all, now though this young man had become a proper man. Almost.
Only one of them had been in the firing line, waited for the right moment to reveal themselves and cringe with expectation, with defiance & soul draining rage and right now he was thinking over what he’d just been told.

“Then I guess we’d better gear up, check in & find ourselves somewhere to observe the war’s progress. What’s it like outside?” In answer to his question the crack of a pistol came through the windows, an army was approaching and only a fool or twenty-two men with a chance to prove themselves would be waiting around for a closer look. In the meantime everyone was going to see what they had and decide that the guy next door, whom they’d always thought was a bit funny, had it a little easier.

“Go figure sir, we’re probably going to clean up good, if Falstur can get its act together otherwise we’re probably going to be up to our necks in it all. I‘ll get the others all ready & report our situation” Cornelius left his commander to silently think, whilst he went to inform the others & round everyone up. I hope he’s going to get us through this. Oh god I need to get through this alive but first I want to see it all. Shit though this can’t be happening now. I gotta’ make this a mission to remember, those REMF's will never approve this. Fuck 'em


Though they were supposed to be operating a small narcotics operation and as such appear to be local the clothes they wore now, the way they carried themselves & almost as obviously what was in their hands betrayed all previous efforts to make themselves local.
“Whatever happens from now on people, we’re on our own, we’ve been cut off & to me that means we ain’t got no obligation to fight for anyone but ourselves. I’m going to fight my way home & hang the REMF who decided we weren't cost effective enough to keep operational. If you’re with me you’ll be on my six when I walk out that door.”
Don’t look back yet, down the stairs & out the door. You know these people & they trust you. He needn't of feared for walking alone as he’d hardly made it through the doorway when the soft clomp of boots on hardwood floors followed him. I will never forget that from now on I am my own man & now I’m going to do whatever it takes till I find peace again.

Major Steven Carling wiped his brow and took another gulp of water from his canteen. The Dregruk army was incredible. They had only slightly advanced designs for their weaponry, and yet they made every little advantage count in lives of Falasturian soldiers. As the struggle to repel them continued, Falasturians faced loss after loss after loss. Only twenty minutes earlier, he had been forced to take nominal command of the 6th Armoured Brigade when his Colonel's tank was struck cleanly by a shell from a Dregruk tank, only seconds after breaking cover. The skill of the enemy was phenomenal, and it seemed nothing could stand in their way.

Steven gave a start as his earpiece on his headset crackled, the voice of Major General Hopkins coming onto the command channel.

"All Commanders, 2nd Division. The fight for Havela is lost. The Dregruk forces have already penetrated our lines, we cannot hold much longer. We are withdrawing North into Manira. All units are hereby ordered to execute a fighting retreat out of the area. Repeat. All units are hereby ordered to execute a fighting retreat into Manira. Good luck and godspeed."

Giving the orders to the commanders of his Brigade, Steven then informed his tank commander, who promptly turned the vehicle around and began to move away from the enemy. Steven sighed as he watched Havela disappear behind him, wondering if he would ever return.

The base camp was finished being set up. The Nanakan forces now had a remote base-of-operations. A tiny lazer signal was shot up in space. A Nanakan spy satellite picked up the signal and sent the coordinates to the airplane with the vehicles. 200 more Special Forces and 50 more Elite Special Forces parachuted with the vehicles. It was now time to contact Falastur.

"Falastur," said Major Anderson, "if you can hear this signal (it is encrytped), Nanakan forces have set up camp in a clearing in the forest. Reinforcements have parachuted here, too. We are ready to help defend your nation."

Reinforcements
200 Special Forces
50 Elite Special Forces

10 Nanakan Transport Vehicles (NTVs)
10 Nanakan Armor Transport Vehicles (NATVs)

While Special Forces primarilly use helicopters, they occasionally parachute into battle scenes. In this case, ground vehicles are the vehicles of choice, but many of the lower ranking Special Forces have to travel by foot.

Nanakan Transport Vehicles are old troop transports, but they are still reliable. The armored variations are more defensive, but give up much in speed. NATVs are newer models with heavier guns.

OOC: Sorry if my posts seem a little dumbed down today, I'm a little short of inspiration, and short of time to write longer posts.

IC:

Within two minutes, an encrypted message is returned:

To Major Anderson of the Nanakan special forces,

Your message is received and understood. Your arrival was picked up on long-range radar not long ago, although we are glad to have audio confimation. We are most grateful for your arrival, but we will not delay you with pleasantries. You are hereby authorised to carry out any military action against Dregruk forces on Crealir. Furthermore, we have assigned you the authorisation code FAL-63-283-XO. This gives you authorisation for the duration of this war to requisition any Falasturian equipment not in current service, as well as the authority to take command of any unit of our forces commanded by a Captain or lower not assigned to a high priority task. If your force makes a rendezvous with an encamped battalion or larger, they will also be immediately catered for.

Good luck, Major.

General Carboltsy,
Commander, Allied Defense

The thirteen Elite Special Forces who were separated from the rest because of the crash kept walking until they found a road. The road wasn't well paved, but it lead one way to the beach and the other way to some Falasturian town. They were about to take the path when they heard something.

There was a pound of footprints, hundreds of footprints. Soldiers from one of the sides were marching to some battle. There were tanks, and vehicles, and countless soldiers. The group decided that since they didn't know whose side it was, they wouldn't risk capture and hide behind a tall, thick tree untill they passed by....

IDSS Open Fist, 3 Stellar Squadron; Earth Space, L-1; 120degrees west, 90degrees north Dregruk-relative; velocity: 0m/s, +/-0.4Nms drift factor (Earth relative)

The Squadron, visible here in the observation dome of the flagship of the 3 Stellar Squadron, the Retribution-class DSA-I Open Fist, slowly swept into a diamond formation as each ship drifted the last few kilometers into their assigned position.

The bright white light of all but four vessels in the Squadron dimmed to darkness; the propulsive hull plating now calmed on all of the ships - but four of those ships were newer than any of the others, and these vessels were not normally assigned to the Squadron.

Yet CSF Command had re-routed them. Commodore Li Se Dth'gar-Rihad had no idea why this was; yet now they were here, and she dealt with that. She had difficulty fitting them into the formation planned for such an operation, however.

Her eyes drifted to the large forms of the two carriers, and she scowled slightly. They weren't covered effectively enough, to her liking; the addition of the IDSS Crown had opened a hole in the right flank in the initial plans, but that hole had been closed with the four additional warships, all of which were Tyelca Tuo class pocket cruisers.

But those were assigned - officially - to surface (or, rather, aerial) operations.

And here and there, her trained eye could spot the vague outlines of what looked like X# and eXon fighters; admittedly, she would not have seen them if she hadn't known they were there. They were nigh on invisible to the naked eye, except from directly above, facing the dayside of the Earth. Against the blue-black-brown backdrop of space, however, they were simply not visually trackable unless highlighted; she knew: she had flown in space before on training exercises with her pilots.

The nimble and low-RCS X#s, mostly designed for the purpose of gaining superiority in the air, were likely to be deployed to the atmosphere, whilst the eXons - generally better performers in space, but extremely capable in an atmosphere in a heavy fighter/bomber role would remain on CAP duty... but they would be rotated with M#s redirected from the 1 Stellar Battlegroup, which was all the way around the curve of the planet in ICEL controlled space. The M#s were best known to the enemy, but these were new variants; they were identical in all but one aspect: they outmassed the old models, but this extra mass was offset with the addition of gyro-aided rotation and increased capacity battery packs - the resut was a slightly larger frame on which to stow anti-fightercraft weapons. Thus they carried EM-enhanced chainguns, with an effective range of just over three kilometres; easily a large enough range for a fighter screen.

Several factors were therefore combining to provide her with a headache. She hated headaches; she only ever had them because of stress, and, unfortunately, stress headaches were apparently the worst of all of them. There were some disadvantages to being Human; illness was one of them. A headache wasn't exactly illness, of course - but she'd never heard a Nenyan complain about one. Or an Elf, for that matter.

She disliked reliance on fighter screens, for starters. With the Tyelca Tuos due to depart at some point (although she did not know when, yet, which was equally annoying) for purposes unknown (again irritating), the fightercraft would be relied on more heavily to protect the right flank as soundly as possible.

Further, they were sitting still. She hated sitting still. ICEL warships were not designed to sit still, but to fall upon an enemy at great range. Granted, all of the ships in the fleet were outfitted with E-cannons - but there wasn't much space to work with. And only six ships carried direct-fire (AKA 'accelerative') missile tubes - the rest of the ships just dropped missiles into space, and the missiles were then depended on to accelerate themselves towards their target.

But she was heartened greatly by the addition of a certain weapon to her arsenal; although she didn't like to think about that one, as it was a bit inhumane. Cooking people inside their own ship was never pleasant.

* * *

SAX dropships Rapid, Flame; above the Atlantic ocean ---> Falastur

The SAX-type dropships Rapid and Flame roared down through the atmosphere, directly into international airspace and over the Atlantic ocean. The sonic booms thus fail to kill too many seabirds (for very few are stupid enough to roam this far from the nearest coastline), although atmospheric disturbance is fairly high. As the dropships' engines cut through the atmosphere, creating a false vacuum around both vessels that prevents atmospheric interaction (albeit not actually intentionally - the engines were not specifically designed to fulfill that function), ion channels spring into being. Sheet lightning rushes across the sky, sending out additional booms behind the sonic ones.

These are not stealth aircraft.

In fact, owing entirely to their lack of wings and smooth, seamless construction, they have a small radar signature; just about the size of the average golden eagle. Out here, there are no backscatter radar tracking systems to record their coming or going; nor is it likely that an AWACs, specifically designed to observe low-altitude aircraft travelling near sea level, can observe them moving at two hundred thirty thousand feet.

But they are very, very noisy. Within seconds they begin to decellerate harshly, the occupants grunting against the g-force which crushes them back against their couches, even inside the pressure-tolerant PFC-environment; the true, unmodified g-force would crush the Human ribcage (and the Nenyan equivalent), but the PFC is not an air atmosphere, and in liquid, g-tolerance is far higher. Thus, it is merely greatly uncomfortable. And the cause of cursing. Alot of cursing.

But the dropships cruise in alongside the Vanguard soon enough, slowed to a mere eighty knots airspeed, slowly overtaking the two kilometre long, nine hundred meters wide warship. Laser comms slip back and forth between the two ships, and the Flame slows down even further, dropping down alongside the Vanguard before vanishing beneath the waves - sending up a spray of water as she does so.

The Rapid, however, accelerates on an upward curve, roaring back towards the stratosphere again with sundering booms - on a curved course back to Earth to attempt to arrive in time to aid that downed helicopter in Falastur.


[OOC: M#, X#, K#, G#, are all pronounced in the following format: Letter-Sharp. So, X-Sharp, M-Sharp, etc, as in the musical notation.

SAX = Surface Assault Vehicle. The X is commonly used to denote a transport unit in purpose-defining acronyms such as this one. See OOC thread for other acronyms used in this post (plus a few more ones that'll be needed).]

"Gentlemen, we've long since missed our chance to respond to the Ma-Tek message. We need to make a decision about what we're going to do about the unidentified vessels to our north."

A few men frowned. One piped up, "I suggest a display of our strength. The northern coast has plenty of long-range anti aircraft missiles, doesn't it?"

"I believe so. The PUNISHER class defense missile."

"Fire them off, along with the flak cannons. I don't care if the flak doesn't hit, just scare them by making bangs in front of 'em."

A murmur of agreement went around the table.

--Nr. Dregruk--

At various places on the ground, metal screens slid aside to allow deadly looking missiles to be raised into a firing position. One by one, they were launched at the targeted hostiles, as well as a screen of flak.

"Alright men, Nanakalnd's forces are here, let's roll!" Shouted Alpha Squadron Leader.
"Roger, all Alpha and Bravo Forces, take your positions, and move out!"
The F-14's, two per chopper, and the 10 SH-60 choppers took off with Nanakaland's forces. It was a beautiful site; hundreds of choppers and F-14's, going nap of the earth in one grand unison, made for land. "Right, everything looks good, we're almost there!" replied Bravo 2.
"Okay, all choppers, land and make your drop-offs, Nanakaland's choppers, you have your own orders, if you stay on land we'll just RTB on full burn, or if you go back to your carriers, we'll escort you. All SH-60's drop your extra fuel, food, and ammo for the special troops and RTB at best speed, over and out."
And one half(NS)hour later they were all back safe and sound.

--Crealir, province of Yerente--

The advance continued, led by Colonel Carthage. The city of Pavlita was less than a mile away, already within visible distance. And within firing distance of the field artillery. Which was made apparently as soon as possible.

The earth-shaking boom from the cannon caused the ground to shake as the army continued its advance. The accuracy of the artillery was a moot point, compared to the blow it would have to the morale of the citizens and any troops stationed there.

"Inbound anti-air missiles confirmed," chimed the cold voice of fifty-seven subsentient AIs on board the eXon fighters.

"Great," muttered fifty-seven pilots as their oh-so-important conversations were forced to a halt. How annoying.

The Squadron, widely spaced already, broke rapidly. Each pilot already knew what to do, how to do it, and what accelerative factor to use; just this kind of response had been planned for - although this had been the least expected response. Perhaps some had not paid as much attention, therefore, for the elite Alpha Squadron was, for once, just a little bit slow off of the mark; not all of the EM-propelled MI fighter/bombers begin their climbs at the exact same moment - there is an, according to the CAF, unacceptable margin of close to a second between the first craft to make its move and the last.

The flak irrelevant at such long range*, the fighter/bombers broke for high altitude, exercising their expected-to-be superior climbing acceleration rate (which was only about 15% slower on the vertical as compared to the horizontal acceleration capacity of the eXon) in an attempt to reach a higher altitude - an altitude where supersonic manuevering was easier for them and more difficult (read: expected to be impossible) for the air-reliant enemy missiles.

Presuming the missiles can keep up at all. With such a long lag between firing, confirmation of incoming via satelite tracking systems, and final arrival at the targets, the eXons have the advantage - this time.

[OOC: They're a thousand miles out. Any flak that I know of wouldn't even reach em', let alone be hazardous. So I'm presuming that the flak is in fact being fired off to display that the coastline is well-defended...]

They didn’t walk far, less than fifty metres before they all climbed upon several all terrain vehicles which had been purchased not long after their ascendance to narcotics traffickers.
The city was done for without even taking a look at the opposition, they’d figured this out from the radio reports & the concentration straining concussion of artillery shells detonating across the city, as such they headed for open terrain & a chance to establish themselves properly at their relocation site.

If we even get out of this city it’ll be a miracle, don’t these people have tables to hind underneath. How am I going to explain what happened to the relocation site? The vehicles swerved amongst streets crowded with rubble, craters & scared people. Lots of scared people.

It took them thirty minutes to clear the city, once free of its death trap grip the vehicles took their own routes to the relocation site. None of them took the roads or the grossly open terrain but such was the terrain that at times vehicles found themselves completely open, at those moments everyone concerned strained their hearing for the roar of an aircraft or the thumping of cannon rounds in to the earth around them.

* * *
Communications Relay Ship - North Atlantic
The technician had been patiently waiting for several hours, monitoring frequencies for something or anything in particular. Aside from attempting to listen in on encrypted communication the ship also served as a method of E.G. (Economic Growth) teams delivering priority reports & the required monthly report. So far the Falstur E.G. were eighteen hours overdue & showed no signs of reporting anything.
The ship had eavesdropped several satellite television shows which had reported some kind of a military incident however these shows had ceased to broadcast anything useful & as viewing them gave ratings to rival companies access to them was restricted. Not that it really mattered.

Waves broke off the bow of the IFS Far-reacher, flagship of the Falasturian 4th Fleet. The ships had been making way towards the archored Dregruk naval force for the last three days. It's crew had worked themselves to the bones, but now they were within reach of their goal, and any weariness or lack of sleep were far from sight. The ships of the 8th Fleet, arranged in a protective ring around the four aircraft-carriers and the command ship, calmly continued in their path as the enemy vessels grew on the horizon.

However, on the bridge of the Far-reacher, all was far from calm. Servicemen and women vied to be the loudest voice as they called out readings and messages from their consoles. Admiral Bernside, Commander of the 8th Fleet, strode up and down past his crew hard at work, taking deep breaths and trying to keep himself thinking straight. This will be my first real test as Commander of this Fleet. Barely anything has gone wrong in my time here. Now I have to prove that nothing can go wrong in battle either. Wiping the beads of sweat from his bow, his thoughts were interupted as a Midshipman called for his attention.

"Sir! We're within 10 miles of the enemy fleet now. Still no response as far as we can tell. Shall I give the order for the attack?"

"Ermm...." His eyes shot from side to side. Suddenly, he couldn't stop his mind from musing over how much easier commanding a light flotilla had been. He had managed every situation so easily then. But then, the problems he had come against had been territorial waters disputes by civilian craft, and routine service problems. Nothing that could really do any harm. Finally forcing his mind back to the present, he thought for a second, before replying hesitantly,

"Yes. Have the Destroyers, Battleships, Frigates and Cruisers give them an opening salvo. Target the carriers. Launch all fighters. Order the Fleet to 1/3 ahead. We don't want to get too close to them. Do we have readings on how many there are?"

"Not yet, Sir."

"Nothing we can do about that. Now, give the orders."

"Yes, Sir!"

It seemed the Battle of the Havelan Approach had begun.



OOC: Fleet consists:

2 Elessar Class Super Carriers
-Aircraft Per Carrier:
3 E2-C Hawkeyes
30 F-14 Tomcats
20 F/A-18 Super Hornets
20 Archangels
15 ASW Sea King Helicopters
10 F-117 Nighthawks

2 Nimitz Class Carriers
-Aircraft Per Carrier:
20 Archangels
20 F/A-18 Hornets
20 F-14 Tomcats
5 E2-C Hawkeye
5 AC-150 Tankers
10 F-117 Nighthawks

1 Command Ship
4 Hellfire Heavy Cruisers
2 Hospital Ships
4 Los Angeles Class Attack Subs
4 Seawolf Class Subs
4 Ohio Class SSBN's
4 Virginia Class NSSN's
25 Hover Patrol Boats
25 Pegasus Patrol Craft
2 Avenger Class Minesweepers
4 Ticonderoga Class Guided Missile Cruisers
2 Zumwalt Destroyers
4 Fleet Defense Catamarans
6 Arleigh Burke AEGIS Destroyers
2 Iowa Class Battleships
6 Oliver Hazard Perry Class ASW Frigates
4 Weathered Class Torpedo Boats
2 Sea Shadow Assault Ships
2 Arsenal Ships
8 Visby Class Corvettes
4 AOE-6 Combat Logistic Ships

I invaded too....

Bat'haq scaled the tallest of the trees within his reach, digging in his claws and where necessary his wristblades to help him climb, cursing quietly in clicks and hisses as he slipped on the smooth bark, gradually scraping his way to a leafy, thick branch that could just about support his impressive mass. He perched himself upon this structure and manipulated the controls for the zooming lenses of his mask to allow him to see the four humans in the clearing carved by the helicopter as it fell to earth.

Two of them were leaning against the bulky machine, which showed up a light, inviting blue in his vision, indicating it was slightly warm, probably from the day's sunshine. Their body heat made them clear targets of red, yellow and gfreen, standing out against the deep, dark blue of the forest, the small heat of which was easily filtered out by the sophisticated mask. The other two were walking slowly around a set pf pre-determined points, cautiously checking the forest around them. That told him they were expecting more humans to arrive, and that in turn meant he must take them quickly, before the others could arrive, and prevent him from hunting. He zoomed back out, switched on his cloaking unit, and with a soft grunt leapt the 30 feet to a nearby tree, gracefully gripping several branches and the trunk of the tree in quick succession to take his weight, and moving to a position from which he could eliminate all four humans at a moment's notice.

"Did you see that, Tim?" asked a soldier who went inside and behind the helicopters one functional gun.

"No," replied another soldier.

"I must have imagined it, then," said the first soldier. He leaned back. "I'll just sit here by the gun just in case."

"Why?" asked the second soldier. "We need all the people looking out for the help."

"Good point," said the first soldier, who then made the fatal error of leaving the mounted gun.

Bat'haq froze as the human moved, leaving for a millisecond a spectral trail of heat behind him, and carefully lowered himself into a crouching position, hoping that the branch on which he was sited was strong enough to bear his mass for just a few seconds. He flicked open the gauntlet computer on his left arm, then wrapped his right around the tree to ensure the best possible balance while he lowered himself onto the trunk. Climbing down it, he knew that to move was dangerous, but to stay still even more so.

With some effort, Bat'haq descended towards a large, stout branch, some 60 feet from the ground, and crouched, perfectly balancing, upon its rounded bark. It was time to begin. He switched to thermal vision mode, and instantaneously the red lines of the automatic targeting computer aligned on the nearest human. Fifty feet. His plasmacaster could reach that. The red triple laser dots locked on the back of the soldier's body, just below his neck. With a smile that was invisible behind his mask, his clawed finger stabbed at the caster's firing switch. The bolt of plasma, surrounding a small, computer-guided core of metal, left the small cannon with a gunshot-like report, and Bat'haq crouched, leaping forward to shelter behind the trunk of another tree as the ovoid of blue light and unimaginable energy flew with appalling speed towards the human.

Unidentified Location, Samtonia

Hello again, friends, allies, countrymen. The fight against tyranny continues even now. All across Samtonia, brave soldiers resist the depredations of the evil and unyielding enemy. He has attacked us; he has dashed his fleet on our shores, and has run off in terror.

But even now, his forces shift to our brave allies in Falastur. We wish those valiant defenders our goodwill, as they surely will need it. In Falastur, nearly everything is lacking. Troops, guns, ammunition- all are outdated or outnumbered. But there is one thing our brave allies do have. Courage. The courage to stand against a war machine intent on ripping their Empire apart and ravenously engulfing it. The courage to fight with everything they have, selling their lives for their country.

And their courage is turning the war. Even now, they have completed tactical withdrawals to more inland cities, after fighting tooth and claw across the beaches and landing grounds. Indeed, they killed up to twelve times their number in many cases. And their resistance will gain more ferocity and dash the enemy against their ground, as in the Stand of Post 85, where twelve Falasturians held their positions against a full company of men for two hours.

But I digress. Falastur will fight on. Our valiant allies in North Lotusland will surely overthrow the mantle of their oppressors, gaining freedom once again. Samtonians and the world, we are winning. We have shattered the initial advances of the enemy and are containing him even as I speak.

However, a new enemy has shown his face. An enemy so dastardly that the rules of war do not apply to them. My friends, I now inform you of one of the most low brow and evil attacks against Samtonia.

Launching hundreds of deadly missiles from their satellites high over Samtonia, an attack both unexpected and unprovoked, the nation of Ma-Te calmly sent missiles designed to stun and knock unconscious military personnel into Samtonia, against those they knew couldn’t survive the assault. These missiles were targeted against infantry concentrations, but also against those most unable to defend themselves. Children, elderly, sick- thousands were hurt or died when attacks from these missiles were aimed at St. Jostens, the second largest civilian hospital in Samtonia.

Striking both two massive military bases and the hospital, a total of 32 missiles were fired at Samtonia City. Four missiles hit the bases, five hit the hospital complex. The result was catastrophic. Of a total of 300,000 patients in the hospital and more then 147,000 doctors, nurses, and assorted hospital staff, 85% were sent into unconsciousness. Of the patients sent into unconsciousness, 4,500 died outright from shock. Another 8,000 perished from lack of medical care at the time of the strike, and as of now, 6,000 patients lapsed into comas from the physical shock of unconsciousness. Half are expected to never return from the comas.

Abandoning all conventions of warfare, Ma-Tek has chosen to launch a strike directly against Samtonia’s weakest citizens- those unable to defend themselves, either because of illness or age. Three entire Neonatal Intensive Care wings have had their entire wards killed, as well as two elderly care areas and six emergency care areas. Ma-Tek has struck the weakest of the weak. Their cowardly actions cannot remain unpunished.

As such, I issue a promise to Samtonia. A promise to those who lost someone in the horrible attack. And a pledge to those thousands in the cold graves of comas, who may never exit them again. I promise an answer. I promise an apology given to you by the Ma-Tek government and the officer responsible for firing the missiles. I promise restitution. And I promise a Samtonian response to these atrocities.

My advisers have told me to release pictures of the tragedy. We are preparing them at this time and they will be available within 24 hours. Someone must be held accountable for these crimes. I only hope that the International Community agrees with me as well.

http://img94.exs.cx/img94/2290/Clipboard12.jpg
Minister X, Leader of Samtonian Council of Thirteen

"The Commonality disavows all knowledge of any missile strikes in the vicinity of the hospital in Samtonia at the center of Samtonian propaganda. Furthermore, we are willing to provide targeting data to back up our claim. We point out that picture evidence is utterly moot in this regard, as ultrasonic weapons do not leave bodily scars or marks, and are utterly incapable of causing death even in unhealthy 'victims'. We point to numerous trial tests carried out over the past two years as evidence of this fact.

"The Samtonian Government will therefore immediately retract its claim against the Commonality, and, to be brief and to the point, cease putting spin on what is clearly a case of simple neglect of funds to its hospital. We suggest that, due to wartime difficulties, the Samtonian hospital lost power, and, due to fund lacks or Sentient errors, did not have fuel to provide its emergency generators.

"Seeing a possibility for a propaganda campaign to smear the just and fair efforts of the Commonality to end a war that could potentially improve the sphere of influence of Samtonia, that government set out to claim that lives lost were lost during a strike - especially since troops were apparently conveniantly stationed nearby to the hospital.

"However, our missiles only have a ten metre effective radius range. Therefore, we fail to see how they could possibly have affected such large numbers of people. If we assume that the total number of missiles fired were to affect an area of ten metres squared each, the total area of effect (presuming again that all missiles were fired directly at the hospital, with a 0% margin for error) would be a mere one thousand four hundred square metres. Eighty-five percent of three hundred thousand people is a figure which simply does not fit into one thousand four hundred square metres. To suggest that the strike - which did not occur in the first place at that location - was so accurate as to happen to stun every single nurse and doctor into unconsciousness is simply staggering.

"The figures stated - five missiles hitting the hospital complex - makes little sense. That would give an affected area of fifty square metres unconscious, and those inside the immediate few square metres outside that perimeter might have suffered temporary deafness; but the suggestion that so many persons were rendered unconscious by so few missiles in such a small area is utterly preposterous.

"Further, to suggest that a mere two hours unconsciousness of a few doctors and nurses left so many patients dead or dying suggests gross negligence occurring long before the alleged missile strike.

"However, the Commonality, willing to display its compassion even to those who would smear its name mercilessly and without cause, would be willing to fly in specialists from our best hospitals to aid in the treatment of the individuals who are allegedly in comas; I am sure some of our TP specialists can help.

"But the Commonality will not, can not, and shall not accept responsiblity for a loss of life which it did not cause."

~ Empress the Supreme Commander Rialla ux-Rihad II

* * *

"Furthermore, we strongly advise against any 'response' by Samtonia that might appear hostile to the Iluvauromeni People."

~ High Lord Commodore Ax-randiri Rihad

* * *

"Furthermore, I sincerely doubt that nearly ten thousand people could fit into a ten square metre radius..."

~ High King Semir-randil I

SAMTONIA ATTACKED! HOSPITALS BOMBED WITH NEW WEAPONS; DEATH TOLL APPROACHING THOUSANDS!
Samtonian News Service, November 7th 2004

A photo slideshow, so we might remember the events and those who lost their lives.


http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.kapsimwp.com/Pics/Drowning0209.jpeg&imgrefurl=http://www.kapsimwp.com/News/middlewesterner0209.html&h=144&w=150&sz=5&tbnid=FZ-aISBrzWAJ:&tbnh=86&tbnw=89&start=17&prev=/images%3Fq%3DGrieving%2Bmother%26hl%3Den%26lr%3D
Mothers crying over their infants’ deaths. Children were three and two when they died.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/olmedia/1165000/images/_1165807_women150afp.jpg
Daughter collapses after learning of her mother’s death in the hospital

http://www.cnn.com/interactive/us/0010/memorial.gallery/family.grieving.jpg
Family grieving after learning of death of Marge Greer, 42, and her twin boys, held in the hospital for recovery after her C-Section .

http://deseretnews.com/photos/1617082.jpg
LaKeesha Wittman, after learning her mother had “joined our Lord Jesus Christ”

http://www.nottingham.ac.uk/~mazpso/BMS-new%20WEBsite/DeathRate/deathrate_files/gravestones.gif
Just some of the thousands of graves in the “Samtonian Innocents” cemetery, dedicated to those who lost their lives in the attack.

http://www.montclair.edu/pages/insight/Insight09-11-02/Crying.jpg
Citizens of Samtonia City waiting for word on mounting casualty figures from the “Children’s Raid,” as the unprovoked attack on St. Jostens has been called.

http://newsfeed.tcm.ie/images/people/eddiejordan.JPG
Head of Disaster Recovery Team braks down into tears during news conference afterannouncing death toll of children at the time.

http://www.cnn.com/US/9706/02/mcveigh.reax.wrap/crying.jpg
Couple learns of their child’s death.

http://untruenews.com/unimages/popejp.jpg
Cardinal D’Agneau reacts after learning of death toll.

http://www.sjvcc.org/images/10-19-03%20Illona%20Crying%20Worships.jpg
Girl learns of her aunt’s death.

WE SEND OUR PRAYERS TO ALL VICTIMS OF THIS TRAGEDY. GOD HELP THEM AND US.

More updates as they develop

"Commonality Accused of War Crimes?

"SAMTONIA CITY, SAMTONIA - Following a tragedy of unknown cause at a hospital in Samtonia City, Samtonia, the government of Samtonia has lashed out against a minor missile strike carried out by the IDS Vanguard against built-up infantry positions in Samtonia, claiming that the tragedy was indeed caused by ultrasonic weapons.

"In response, the Executive Council was quick to condemn the action, and refused to allow the Crown Guard to be blamed for thousands of deaths. It does not seem likely that this position will change, despite the call of an emergency session of the Supranational People's House, which will sit in judgement on the matter and decide whether or not the Executive Council decision to disavow blame was correct or not.

"It does not seem likely that People's House will disagree with the Council, as the facts do not appear to add up. Firstly, the Samtonians clearly lack the ability to track the missiles back to source, as a Samtonian politician clearly stated, 'Launching hundreds of deadly missiles from their satellites high over Samtonia...'

"It is common knowledge that Commonality satelites, referred to as MISATs, do not carry weapons capable of attacking surface targets.

"Further, reports out of Samtonia suggest that a mere five ultrasonic missiles struck the St. Jostens hospital, Samtonia City; it is clearly impossible that so many casualties - 'thousands' have been claimed already - could have been caused by such a strike..."

~ excerpt taken from INN Solar Web/MESH News

Samtonia to invoke NATO Defense
Nov 7, 2004(Ap)- Following the attack on the Samtonian hospital St. Jostens and the deaths of thousands, as well as the denial of the Ma-Tek government to causing the attack, Samtonia has announced its imtention to call upon NATO to aid it in the event of conflict with Ma-Tek.

"With allies such as those, who can combat the ludicrously advanced MA-Tek weapons systmes, enabling us to concentrate on defending Samtonia, our choice is simple," said Samtonian envoy to NATO Gen. Mark Potters, SNAF(Ret.). "With Ma-Tek refusing to acknowledge that their weapons of war caused the deaths of thousands, we are forced to get them to acknowledge."

When questioned further, Potters simply said that his position was, "the official government position: Apology and restitution or punishment."

Intelligence sources are debating on whther or not the weapons actually had the capabilities to harm that many Samtonians, with a straight divide down the International Intelligence community. It appears many pioneers...

Extract from Samtonian Times

Several helicopters had been patrolling the helicopter area looking for the crashed ANAH II or survivors. Captain Christopher Jones, who was the second highest ranking Nanakan officer involved in this opperation, was in charge of the search.

"I think I see something down there, pilot," he said, pointing. "Better pull down our helicopter over to that clearing." The SNAH IV landed in the clearing and found that it was made by the crash of a helicopter.

Captain Jones walked out of his helicopter and looked around. "Two bodies outside mutilated beyond recognition," he said. "Two more inside. Did the enemy do this? Seven bodies charred from the crash makes since, but these four - something else got them."

"I don't know what could have gotten them," said a soldier.

"I think we should get out of here," commented another soldier. A sound came from the forest surrounding the clearing as if someone, or something was watching them.

"Fine," Jones said. "Pull out. There's thirteen other men somewhere out there in the forest. Contact the other search helicopters. Those men might still be alive." And with that, the SNAH IV escaped.

Bat'haq watched the humans depart, glancing from time to time towards their distant, blurred outlines from his ledge. He slumped against the rocky outcrop, lazily stroking the skinned skull of a special forces soldier, running a bony, metal-sheathed claw along the ridge of human bone just above the eye sockets of his victim. The head was itself undamaged. The body it had once been paired with now lay in the clearing, where it had fallen, gore oozing from the severed neck. Bat'haq congratulated himself on his tally thus far.

{Encrypted, no you don't know about it if it didn't go to you.)


To: Samtonian Command

Fleet Admiral Frey Mesfin al-Din sends his greetings. The 2nd Vastivan Fleet and one of our wolfpack strike fleets are enroute to your country to aid and assist however we can. In addition, three of our FRAM regiments have been raised to alert status and will deploy when and as needed once safe offload locale is given.

In addition, a fleet of SSBNs has been deployed to your area should such become necessary.

The fleet's warning signals had begun flashing as the on-board computers detected an incoming barrage. In the ships of the fleet, the crew braced for impact while they brought their own guns to bear.

--Onboard DNS Gryphon, Flagship--

"I want to have full bombardment from our battleships on these," Said Admiral Grant Docherty, tapping the computer screen. "If we can get those carriers sunk before the get their planes in the air, we're laughin'.

"I also want you to have the ram-ships go straight at the major battleships, frigates and destroyers.

"Finally, get our planes into the air and engage any aircraft they've sent out already. If they can, get them to drop their torpedos or bombs into the enemy carriers."

The sub-ordinates saluted and despatched the orders to the fleet.

OOC:

Ships of the fleet:

3 MaRTHA Class Carriers with:
20 Spearhead Fighters
15 FG-98 Bombers
30 Shield Support Fighters
2 Aggressor Flying-Fortresses

1 Ghetto Class Super-carrier with:
30 Spearhead Fighters
20 FG-98 Bombers
35 Shield Support Fighters
4 Aggressor Flying-Fortresses

1 Flagship
4 Harbinger Heavy Cruisers
2 Recovery Ships
6 Krazny-Oktyabr (A cookie to whoever spots the book reference!) Class Stealth Subs
9 Tiger Class Guided Missile Cruisers
4 Arran Class Destroyers
5 Hrrachen Class AEGIS Destroyers
2 Iron-fist Class Battleships
6 Skye Class Heavy Frigates
4 Underhand Class Torpedo Boats
2 Mercury Class Assault Ships
2 Re-supply Ships
6 Hammer Class Corvettes
2 Oracle Class long-range logistics ships
30 "Brute" Ram-ships

Imperial Palace

His Majesty looked at the pages of data streaming into the Communications Suite.

"Wiggles, What the hell is going on here?" He asked his Chief Advisor, a young chap who wasn't at all pleased at being nicknamed Wiggles by the Emperor.

"Ummm... Someone bombed someone and now there's a huge war."

"Any way we can get in on it, Wiggles?"

"At the moment, I'm not sure..."

"Well, find out what's going on and see if we can get in on it! You know how much I love a War..."

Sitting in the 'camp' that the Austians had set up, Major general Ethrington peered at maps of the conflict. He tapped the map, "Here, we need to stop there advance here. Our allies 2nd Division is there and we shall aid them, however acorrding to our U2 satalites they appear to be pulling back. Let us send The Snow Dogs and the White Lightning legions to aid them, along with a tank corp."
----------
A message was sent to the 2nd Devision.
Hold on. Austian forces are coming to aid you, repeat do not retreat, Austian forces ETA 3 hours, we shall attempt to dislodge any enermy forces and cover your retreat to our base. 2 legions are inbound.


The Austian legions set off.
-----------
2 Miles south of the 2nd Devision

A lone Austian plane swooped over the battlefeild, where the remains of there allies tanks lay, inside 20 men of the ASS Deaths Head legion sat, preparing for the drop.

Flack went up, narrowly mssing the planes right hand side and the Austians shivered, "Drop Zone reached." The voice came through matalic speakers, one by one the ASS jumped, and one by one they landed safly, the plane sped off back to base.

"Where in," Captain Jackson said,

"Procced with mission," the reply came. Nodding to his allies jackson made his way towadrs there allies to the north. A enermy patrol spotted them, however the Austians, wuickly took them out with there assult rifles. Taking up a position on a hill, wnit one prepared to begin sniping at the enemy while Unit 2, with Jackson madse there way towards 2nd Devision.

{Also encrypted, so no one else can know}

To: Samtonia

President Onsorn sends his greetings. Currently, 2,000 of our SOO operatives are en-route from Kolstav Airforce Base, by AL-15 cargo planes. We've also routed their navy taskforce, the <I>Freedom</I> class carrier <I>Maganua</I> and her cruiser the <I>Slippery Jack</I>. Please accept this naval force in your waters immediately, but keep their location only to your most trusted command. Also en-route with the SOO force are the ESM force, in case things get ugly.

President Onsorn is personally going to take the role of commander in chief himself like he always does. Expect his arrival to his the force within the week as well.

By chance contact with anyone was sparse, in fact Colonel Plisken’s unit was the only one to make any contact & it happened nearly within sight of the safehouse.
A retreating fellow, on the verge of desertion most likely, came straight across their path whilst Jared had his eyes momentarily distracted. In that moment some blonde haired fool was spun around by the corner of the bonnet & summarily died from his injuries, though had anyone of realised at the time they would of seen a lone figure behind the crumpled body running for safety.

As the man’s head connected with the bonnet & the realisation of what that thud meant connected with Jared, the vehicle swung away from the direction the man had come from & left in its wake only a crumpled body, deep tyre tracks & one very shocked person who was running for cover & unwilling to stop till their legs came out from under them.

* * *
The safehouse had not been visited in some months & even then it had only been because somewhere private was needed to entertain a few lady friends of the Colonels, at that time he’d not been considering the state of affairs regarding the buildings stocks of what were considered essentials. Within the small compound should of been enough food, fuel & ammunition for the group to operate for two-weeks. Instead the food was mostly commercial ready-meals, wines & spirits. Whilst the ammunition situation was not quite so drastic it was only enough to supply each man with their standard load-out plus a little spare.

If there was to be any fighting it would need to be swift & expenditure light but then again this was the nature of their lives, find what you’ve got & then use it beyond its means. Cost-efficiency was a big part of their upbringing.

The Government of San Texario is fully willing to back and defend Falastur with the entire military forces that we have.

President’s Estate – Brutus, Four Hectares

While the rest of the world fought the opening stages of what was quickly turning into a full-scale, global conflict, the nation of Four Hectares contemplated the actions it should take regarding the matter.

President Kotula had always been a historian and even now sought how to stake his nation’s future in this international crisis…

“Absolutely not Admiral Rosenberg!” cried High General Kuleszaf, “I will not idly sit here and watch thousands of innocent civilians slaughtered by the hostile nations of this world. I don’t care what our nation’s stance towards international conflict has been in the past. We simply must enter this war for the good of the free world!”

“Now sir…” said Admiral Rosenberg, “…as you know, Four Hectares has always tried to stay out of the conflicts of others in the past. If it’s none of our business, then we should avoid antagonizing other nations, lest we gain new enemies.”

“Even if the attack was cowardly and unprovoked?” said Captain Bergov, of the Air Force, “Even if it might mean the very future of our nation?”

“Gentlemen, please…” said Kotula. “If I am to make a decision in this matter, I must have your full cooperation. If you wish to debate the matter, please do so on your own time. Now then, on to business. The top secret telegram I and many other nations received this morning from the Emperor of Falastur pleaded for military aid to help them bolster their own crumbling and ill-prepared forces. I have carefully reviewed all of the information given to me regarding this conflict and I have reached a decision – Four Hectares will break our long-standing isolationism and enter the war to aid Falastur.”

“But sir…” began Rosenberg

“Admiral, I have already reached my decision” interrupted Kotula. “I trust the three of you can provide me with a full report as to the current state of our armed forces.”

“Sir, due to our conscription program, we currently have active duty standing forces of approximately 1,550,000” said General Kuleszaf. “We also have about another 2,500,000 on reserve. These figures are a total of all three divisions of the military – Army, Navy and Air Force. All of them are fully trained and those on active duty are ready to prepare for war at your command. Reservists can be called up to active duty and prepared for war within two weeks, if need be. I can have much more accurate figures for you within a few hours.”

“Thank you General. What is the status of our Navy fleet, Admiral?” inquired President Kotula.

“Well sir, the Navy is currently operating four Kirschnov-class aircraft carriers, six Ishnov Heavy Cruisers, eight Katvinz AEGIS destroyers, ten Pelloski-class battleships, five Petrovski-class SSBNs, a command ship, twelve Brutus-class subs, forty Ishnov Patrol Boats and three hospital ships, not to mention two top-secret designs currently undergoing testing” reported Rosenberg.

“Admiral, I appreciate the report. Finally, I need to hear from the Air Force” stated Kotula.

“Sir, I am happy to report that our Air Force is well prepared and fully equipped for battle” stated Bergov. “We have the standard complement of fighters and escort aircraft – 180 F-14s, 100 F-16s and 45 F-22s. Not to mention our bomber fleet, consisting of 5 B-62s and 20 B-52s. We are rounded out with 100 standard transport helicopters and approximately 250 C-130 cargo/troop transports. Some of these are stationed here in Four Hectares, the rest are located on our aircraft carriers.”

“Thank you Captain. Gentlemen, having reached my decision, I hereby order you to prepare all of our country’s active duty forces for war within 72 hours. In addition, contact 1,500,000 reservists and tell them to prepare for defense here at home. I want reports from each of you every six hours detailing the results of your preparations. General Kuleszaf, within 48 hours, I want detailed maps of Falastur as well as a report from you regarding potential battlefields. Admiral Rosenberg and Captain Bergov, you are to coordinate troop and equipment transportation. Within 48 hours, I expect a report on the fastest, yet safest route into Falastur, two alternate routes for entry and a timeframe for when we can expect to be assisting our allies there. Do you understand my orders gentlemen?”

“Yes sir!” each commander said in turn.

“Gentlemen, I trust to the utmost that you will lead our forces into battle proudly and will assist our allies in defeating what might possibly be the greatest threat to the free world in decades. You are dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir”

President Kotula then turned and entered his private study. He would have to address the nation tonight. He was proud to lead his country in a time of such dire importance and knew that he had made the right decision. Dregruk and her allies must be stopped before they were allowed to threaten the very existence of democracy and freedom.

Four Hectares was going to war…

--Dregruk Occupied North Lotusland--

With a token force left to maintain order as best as possible, the remainder of the fleet prepared to go back to war. Using captured docks, the ships of the fleet were re-armed and repairs were made (if necessary).

6 hours later, the fleet was back on the move, heading towards Falastur from the opposite side the main attack group was. With their targets in sight, the fleet split off into 3 separate assault flotillas, each with their own target; the islands of Gavela, Los Parno and Contia.

When within firing range, the ships began another full-scale bombardment of the three islands.

--Crealir, outskirts of Pavlita--

Parts of the city had been torn up by shells, others looked exactly as they had before the war began. It was disconcerting to raw recruits, but somewhat reassuring to the hardened soldiers of the 472nd.

An eery calm had settled over the once-busy city: children no longer played in the streets, cars didn't drive around, people weren't talking. Instead, there was sporadic rifle fire and explosions.

Cityfighting was like that.

The ship shuddered, as the bottom of the hull erupted into a brilliant blaze of crimson and orange. It's bow began to fall forward, and another shockwave hit as cartridges exploded. Casa looked down and started up his chopper. "You fools... Do you not know what awaits you? You have awoken a true fury..." He smiled wickedly, his teeth glistening in the moon's radiance. The ship let off a round of missles, as a sort of goodbye gesture. But Casa was already off in the distance, flying towards the next division.

Thomas turned around, sweating. The glow of the ship illuminated the motorboats, revealing their presence more so. A tear streamed down his face, thinking of the friends on that ship. "Those idiots... I will rip out the heart of their country..." He grimaced, and prepared to land.

As the glowing hulk of the once proud battleship settled into the water, crimson sparks still shooting out, the Samtonian sub began to make a hard right, away from the minefields and back out to sea. It would hunt again for enemy ships.

Meanwhile, though the glow quickly dissipated, the afterimages lingered on in the atmosphere, venting upwards- where one EYE-SAT surveillance satellite was now turning to mark the conflagration. It also saw the invasion force.

++++++++++
0415 Hours
Samtonian Primary Command Center
Position: Unknown

The photos were still flowing in. But they knew the gist of what was happening. An invasion fleet. Heading towards land.

The first to touch down in over 12 years.

Rear Commodore Mountwell was frantically moving his command around, attempting to figure out a way to get a Samtonian task force to the new divisions that were moving towards the coastline. But it would be too late. Before the first taskforce got close enough to engage, they would be landing their troops already.

“It’s hopeless,” he groaned. “They’ll touch down anyway I do things. Gentlemen, by sending in a light infantry force in portions at a time, they can effectively land their divisions. I can’t do a thing about it, although the one sub we have in the area might be able to even down the score a bit. Do any of you have any ideas?”

High Marshall Scott smiled grimly. “We’ve had three entire air wings on standby for a while. Seems about time to use them, doesn’t it?”

The assorted generals nodded. “Go for the heavy transports first,” chimed up one, a lesser ranking naval officer.

“That is agreed upon,” said the figure on a webcam conferencing ring, patched through to the conference. He continued. “However, I and the rest of the Council don’t want anything to touch a major city. You will pound them on the coastline and not wait for them to enter a Samtonian burg.”

Provost Williams nodded. “We’ll open up on them with artillery. We’ve got their near positions known and the shells will set off mines, which will also take out some of their landing craft.” She smiled. “As for hitting a city, well we’ve got a six to one majority in all the major cities in infantry alone to what they have landing. After all, we were expecting to have to fight back the Dregrukians. But I think four divisions should crush them nicely.”

The mysterious figure nodded, action caught on the camera “Permission granted to your plans. Do wipe them out, but a few prisoners would be nice.”

The first Austian forces began to arrive on the battlefeild, and they began to spread out into skirmish order, fighting in pairs one man pointing out targets for there highlyaccurate and long range B22 Rifles. They where only double shot but the range and armour peicing effectivness as well as there accuracy made up for it.


OOC: Dregruk, what are your forces in this area?

Approx. twelve kilometres south-west from the suburbs of Pavlita
The safehouse was comfortable looking, it blended in nicely with this area of the country, the people were friendly enough & anyone able to afford a home out here that didn’t see much use was obviously to them someone who enjoyed their privacy. It boasted the typical double garage, sprawling scenery & relative isolation that weren't so easy to come by in the cities or more popular areas. Inside twenty or so minutes everyone had arrived, found themselves a seat around the large screen monitor which was about to be used to display their situation, as they knew it.
Though they were all sitting back in their chairs, relaxed looks upon their faces the experienced & the astute knew or rather felt that anything more would of been a waste of effort & that confrontation with the enemy, whomever might fill that role, would be exhausting enough.

Colonel Plisken began the briefing with a searching glance at each man prior to actually laying out everything they knew yet conveniently left out any mention of the state of their supplies, “As well all know Pavlita is almost certainly the target in this area, we’ve been able to see first hand artillery strikes & some fires are visible but as of yet we don’t know what sort of presence is in the city or near by.” If he guessed it right the first units in the city would be scouts, professionals who spent their training time regulating their heartbeat or something, in any case they’d be good at routing out troublemakers & clearing an initial path.
“In any case we’ll be wanting to leave a little gift for anyone who happens to come looking this way, regardless of who it is because we’re on our own & everybody who isn’t one of us, is one of them. I’m wanting four volunteers to check the surrounding terrain on foot, the usual stuff I’m expecting. Who’s in the area, what they’re holding & why they ain’t running or if they are where they’re running too.”

With that he took a seat and listened to his men discuss their options, make notes on the digital map which was then updated on to the larger display. It wasn’t much to go on & so the scout mission would have to find something good or even better someone in the know.

The Dragoons were now up to the cliff, unloading the proud men. The black Sabre Corporation logo was faded. They began to scan the waters for the submarine that had hit the larger ship. "Sir, I do not think that we will be able to unload these men before a large task force gets here... We should concentrate on De Soto."

He smiled and tipped his hat courteously. "Of course. And I've got a way to convince these people to do so." Outside on the dragoons and transports, four large missles arose on each ship. They shot off, arcing towards their targets: The largest concentrations of militairy force within 100 Kilometers of De Soto.

The men pulled up to the ground around De Soto and began to pull out their weapons. A large missle battery was slowly hoisted up, ready to hit the defense. The men rubbed on their Tribal Paint, a sign of honour amon the soldiers. Time to put their lifetimes of training to the test.

This is a chess game. The first move has been made.

President’s Estate – Brutus, Four Hectares

President Kotula adjusted the clip-on microphone on his lapel and prepared to address the nation. Millions have tuned in to hear the president speak…

“My fellow countrymen, I address you tonight on a matter of the utmost importance. It is a matter which may ultimately turn into the biggest conflict the human race has faced in decades; a matter to which we must respond, lest our democracy and very freedom be threatened.”

“I am sure that by now many of us have heard the news that a little less than one week ago, the nation of Dregruk and her allies brutally attacked the nation of Falastur, without any warning or announcement whatsoever. They bombarded cities and towns, killing thousands of innocent civilians. Such actions cannot go unpunished and they Yesterday morning, I received a plea for military aid from the emperor of Falastur. Having reviewed all of the intelligence available at the time, I made the decision to declare war on Dregruk – an action which Congress has already approved.”

“I am sure that many of you are wondering why I have chosen to end our long-standing practice of isolationism to enter a war which we have no clear reason to enter. I can assure you that we do indeed have a stake in the outcome of this war, for Dregruk and her allies will clearly stop a nothing to further their expansionist policies. If you want further proof of this, I invite you to view the following video and I do warn you what you are about to see is grotesque and violent…”

(Show video of invasion of Havela)

“If we as a nation were to simply look the other way, it wouldn’t be long before Dregruk would come knocking on our door, looking to destroy our nation. Therefore, I appeal to you the people, for support of our troops. We, together with our allies, will win this war and rid the world of another tyrannical and oppressive regime.”

“God bless.”

As the camera crew packed up around him, President Kotula turned and entered his secure office. Little did anyone know what plans he had already set into action. He picked up the encrypted phone and dialed General Kuleszaf’s number.

“General? This is President Kotula.”

“Good evening sir. Our preparations for war are going very well. As a matter of fact, it would be safe to say that we will be ready for action earlier than I had anticipated. Provided transportation preparations are also running up to speed, the first units could leave for the combat zone as early as tomorrow.”

“Excellent news General. Be sure to check in with Admiral Rosenberg and Captain Bergov to determine the status of their transportation preparations and report back to me at 0600 tomorrow morning. If all is well, I will authorize you to begin the move out by 0900. That will be all for tonight General.”

“Yes sir. Have a pleasant evening.”

Kotula hung up the phone. He still had one more phone call to make and then he would retire for the evening. He picked up the phone and dialed Captain Bergov’s number.

“Captain? This is President Kotula.”

“Good evening sir. Our transportation preparations are going very well. We expect to be ready to move troops by tomorrow morning, ahead of schedule.”

“Very good Captain. However, I have called you regarding the top-secret matter we discussed earlier today. Have my orders been carried out?”

“Indeed they have sir. We are prepared to begin long-range missile strikes against Dregruk units and outposts in Falastur tonight at 1700 hours."

“Excellent. That will be all Captain.”

“Yes sir. Have a good evening.”

Kotula hung up the phone. If all went according to plan, Dregruk would be caught by surprise before long.

Now, it was only a waiting game…

_______________________________________________________________

Four Hectares' coast, 5 PM that night


All along the coast, metal doors squeaked open as Four Hectares' missiles peaked from their hiding places in the coastal mountains. One by one, they ignited and streaked off into the cool, evening air. With careful precision, they headed for their targets...

Aboard Carrier 1
"Well, this is a wounderful night..." The Admiral said with grievance, puffing on a cigar on the bridge.
An Ensign burst through the door, shouting "Sir!"
"Yes?" The Admiral said, turning quietly and raising brow. "What is it?"
"Sir, the navy of Falastur is planning an attack on the Dregruck forces here!"
"How do we know this? I wasn't alerted of and comunique."
"No sir, but look at these pictures." He hands him a plain marked manilla folder, with the usual 'CLASSIFIED' in red ink stamped on the front.
"Wow, they are, just look at these movements. At least that's what i looks like. Ensign, get on the horn with Falastur, I want to know exactly what he's doing, so we can support him. Find out what he's planning to do, with how much, what the enemy has, and how we can help."
"Yessir, Admiral"
"And order 5 more divisions here, at our current location."
"Sir, yes sir!"
The Ensign hurries for th bridge door
"Oh, and send a message to the two chopper carriers we're guarding."
"What should I tell them?"
"That we've got some big fish to fry up soon, and we'll need them to fend for themselves, as soon as our fleet gets here, we can no longer guard them."
"On it right now, sir."
The man hurried to the door, heading to communications. He relayed what was asked to Falastur's government, as well as the two carriers, and to the navy at home. The ships would be there in 20 NS hours.

To Military Headquarters, Christopher Thompson,

We appreciate your ambitions to help us in the naval battle which is as we speak commencing. We can reveal precious little at this time as the minutiae of our operations are highly confidential, and will not be spread even down a secure line. However, needless to say we are engaged in a naval battle against a matched force near the Bay of Alhutin, off the coast of Havela. A defeat here would mean the flow of Dregruk troops will only increase. A victory will isolate their forces in Crealir, and could turn the tide of the war, for a short time at least. Our predominant concern is that, while we believe we are superior in numbers of aircraft and in technological levels of our ships, we are outgunned. Any intervention on our side, bringing naval guns and aircraft to the battle would be deeply appreciated, and could help direct the course of the battle.

From: Grand Admiral Sir Joseph Maxwell,
Falasturian Admiralty

"Sir! We're getting reports of a massive artillery bombardment of the city of Pavlita! Tens of thousands of civilian casualties! This is atrocious, Sir! Satellite images and eye-witness reports claim around 80% of the population are fleeing the city. Lines of refugees stretch for miles, Sir! On their tails, it seems a unit of Dregruk infantry are occupying the city."

"My goodness." General Kevalar let himself drop into his chair. He had heard reports of the sort of atrocities that the Dregruk military committed, but now it was happening to his own fellow Falasturians, suddenly everything felt twice as awful, and a whole lot more real. Wiping his brow with his sleeve, he looked up at the Lance-Corporal who had brought him the news. "Do we have any forces nearby?"

"Of course, Sir. The 81st Infantry Regiment, part of the 2nd Corps, is in reserve not far from there. Pressure has been quite light on their stretch of the occupied zone border. Probably because of the assault on Pavlita. No-one expected this, otherwise they might have been positioned in front of the city itself."

"Can they repel the force moving in?"

"They can move in to attempt it, Sir. They would have to enter through the opposite side of the city, past the refugees."

"That means fighting in the city?"

"Inevitable, Sir, from what my reports tell me."

"Right. Have a comms Officer call the Air Marshal. Have him send a wing of fighter-bombers to try and destroy or dislodge their artillery placements. Then give the Commander of the 81st Regiment my orders to move in. Can we find them some armoured support?"

"There may be a few armoured units unengaged."

"Have a battalion-sized unit of tanks accompany them. And establish counter-batteries to shell their side of the city. Preferably somewhere that can reach over the city to where their artillery is, if that's possible. I want those men moving in before nightfall!"

"Sir!" With a brisk but immaculate salute, the Lance-Corporal turned and left for the Comms Office.

As soon as they recieved their orders, the pilots on board the Falasturian carriers of the 8th Fleet were away. Running at full pace to their craft - for the most part already on the foredeck and equipped for their task - they took bare seconds to get underway. As the deck crew waved them off to taxi up and then get airborne, adrenalin began pumping, covering up the fear of the pilots, and filling them with an elation that they were going to get a real taste of combat, and become heroes for their country. Within minutes, squadrons had formed up, and were heading for the enemy fleet.

But it couldn't all go perfect. Just as the pilots thought they were underway for their greatest and most successful mission to date, the fleet came under counter-bombardment from the Dregruk naval force. For the most part, just as the Falasturians were experiencing for themselves, the first shots fired off-target. Great plumes of water rose from the sea, stirring the water briefly before the lashing waves covered the evidence of the attack. But within half a minute, shots began finding their targets. The shells, for the most part focused on the carriers, began to land with unnerving accuracy, some landing with tremendous clunks to bounce off the reinforced flight deck leaving behind a scorched dent, some hitting their target and spontaneously igniting their explosive contents to create a sudden cloud of searing flame which continued in much the same direction as the shells. Pilots in the air crossed themselves or clutched at charms to thank their stars that they had got themselves airborne before the shells began to land. Many thought of the Dregruk fleet, hoping that the Falasturian counter-barrage was giving the enemy bigger problems than they were experiencing. Planes, their pilots deeply committed to their task, continued to use the runway. Many got airborne, although observers could only wonder how, but disaster was never far away. A mere minute after the first shell had landed, another carefully aimed shot landed at the edge of the runway of one carrier, skittering down the deck to collide with a taxiing craft, which promptly ignited in a tremendous ball of flame. Much of the aircraft was thrown backwards off the far end of the runway, the burning remains of a wing and and engine remaining as a hazard for the next daredevil pilot. A few seconds later, on an adjacent carrier, a shell made a direct hit on the undercarriage of a waiting Hornet, turning the craft into a ball of flame. The impromptu explosion caught the neighbouring Hornet full-blast, sending it too into a plume of fire and smoke, and in turn igniting a third Hornet, the flaming wreckage of which was sent by the three canon explosions careening into the sea behind it. The carriers, built to withstand large amounts of damage, suffered little although in some places shells penetrated the walls of the decks, but for any equipment on deck, the barrage raining down meant almost certain destruction.

Watching the devastation from the air, Group Captain Jolei, commanding the entire air force of the fleet, forced his mind back to his mission. Receiving orders from one carrier, he changed channel to the combat frequency, and gave his pilots a last minute briefing.

"All Squadrons report in" Slightly disheartened by the absense of one Sqaudron Leader's voice, he continued. "You know the basics, but here's the real detail. We are here primarily to disable the enemy's air capabilities. Secondarily to destroy the enemy fleet. To these ends, we are equipped for air-to-sea and air-to-air, as you know. Orders are as follows: All Super-Hornets and Tomcats are on anti-air duty. We are to neutralise their fighters immediately. If you can, fire off a missile at any fighters still on their carriers. Hopefully one missile will take out several bunched planes. Be prepared for surface-to-air or air-to-air missiles. Watch your countermeasures, and watch your tail. This is what you've been trained for. let's show them that our Navy is the best in the world! All Hornets and other craft are on air-to-sea duty. Some of you have torps, you should know to use them on the larger ships. Those with missiles, try and take out smaller ships, or if you can get a good shot, an anti-air battery. If you have a heavy missile, see if you can neutralise a turret on one of their capital ships. Our carriers are turning about to try to get out of their bombardment, with a small escort, so don't be surprised if you have to go further to resupply your weapons. And if you need to land, don't bring a fighter on your tail. Get another of us to swat him off. Alright, we have our orders and we are coming up on the enemy fleet. All pilots to your targets. And remember. Falastur expects every man and women to do their duty."

With these words, the planes broke formation, heading for their targets.

Commonality Crown Guard High Command, somewhere nr. Nenya, Iluvauromen, ICEL

The propaganda campaign by Samtonia had forced a silence onto the war effort for a brief period; by allowing other matters to take to the fore, it was hoped that the Crown Guard could be allowed to concentrate on its various goals regarding the actual conflict. It was, however, sincerely doubted that NATO would involve itself - at least, in the opinion of one High Commissioner Bao Ling, the Imperial Mother and joint commandant of the intelligence forces under the Nenyan Intelligence Organisational Umbrella Agency (NIOUA). There were several states in that organisation that had had fairly long dealings - if not frequent dealings - with the Commonality and the Iluvauromeni in general. They would be aware that retaliation against the Commonality would be ill-advised - especially on such patchy and ineffective evidence.

Why, Bao could have data falsified that would imply a very different story indeed; there was at least one other state with ultrasonic weapons, and it wasn't difficult to reassign blame - and use whatever manufactured evidence Samtonia had against it.

But there was little call for such a large intel operation at this time. False intelligence took time to...gather...and the time committment was too high. So the Executive Council had again been urged to gamble: NATO would not risk a war over what was clearly an effort to enhance the Samtonian sphere of influence.

She definitely hoped not. Although it had been some time since the announcement that NATO had been informed; she presumed that organisation would be rather more rapid than to wait so long.

Then again, she remembered SATO, and how that organisation had operated: very slowly.

She peered up at the overlay of maps flickering on the massive wall screen here in the Command Chamber, a massive vaulted room with many partitions; planning rooms making up the bulk, but out there on the eastern side was the Crown Intelligence, SatOps Division HQ: the maps visible on the wall were being constantly updated by those people.

Combat resolution had increased over the past couple of days; as troops moved, they became visible and trackable, and the satelites deployed could devote their multifaceted telescopic eyes to several dozen 'units' at once. A 'unit' might be a battallion, or it could be a fleet; generally each 'eye' on the telescope could observe an area many hundreds of square miles in size, but clarity was dependant on focus. The more focus, the more likely satelite intel was accurate.

And the more that those nations moved their forces, the more the Commonality armed forces could plan against them. Every movement also allowed for observation after the war; some units had specific heat signatures that had now been recorded and had not been previously - this war was, at the very least, providing very valuable information for the intelligence community.

She stared at the map, and, besides her, the other joint head of NIOUA and her husband, the former Emperor, stared at a flexisheet. It took her a moment to notice; but the flexi had not been there previously.

"What's that," she asked with a hint of interest; it was not quite a question, but not really a statement either.

"A report," Si Ling stated flatly, "which suggests that there is a six percent possibility that the subsentient AIs picked out the troops deployed near to the hospital as a target. Six percent!"

Bao arched her eyebrows; "Six percent is insignificant..."

"But," Si Ling pointed out, "over a hundred missiles were fired - and five found targets near or inside the hospital, according to the reports. That means that-"

Bao Ling finished for him quickly: "-that report will need to be repressed and destroyed and replaced with another that's more favourable."

Si Ling scowled. "I don't like lies, Bao."

"And I don't like tin-pot third-world countries claiming we did something we can prove we didn't, either. If the other side were to get wind of this, then they'd milk it for all it were worth. And no doubt Dor Daedoloth would have a fit of glee - yet more ammunition for their barbarous propaganda media groups."

Si Ling sighed softly; "Very true. I'll order it destroyed and replaced, of course."

Bao smiled faintly. "The advantage of this Citadel is that almost nobody comes or goes. There can be no leak."

Si just nodded, and wandered away towards the pertinant partitioned area.

Bao, herself, returned her gaze to the screen. Something was gnawing at the edge of her consciousness; something...

The terminal buzzed. She flicked a toggle open - she faintly wondered why such retro things as 'toggles' were still used in a nation that had come so much further as she did so - and turned her eyes to the 'visor which slowly displayed the room of the person calling. The room was, almost without shadow of a doubt, the Imperial Suite at the Palace. Bao knew: she used to live there.

"Semir," she greeted before the face was fully formed.

"Bao," Semir replied with a smile, "I just noticed something-"

"I did, too, but I have no idea what," Bao confessed.

Semir grinned. "You would. Look at the Dregruk movements more closely - you see it? They're fighting in a predictable pattern. I've already checked with Sarah: she says she can figure out their movements ahead of time, if need be, with a fifteen percent margin for accuracy."

"Fifteen percent? That sounds...dicey," Bao confessed. She didn't like the sound of this. Sarah may have been designed for this very purpose (secretly so), but Sarah had only observed a dozen or so conflicts; she couldn't possibly be seeing patterns yet. There hadn't been enough input.

Had there?

"Have her figure their next move, then," Bao suggested after a moment, then blinked in confusion as Semir shook his head quickly.

"We can't use this yet. We need to keep it in reserve. Look, Dregruk has begun shelling coastal positions, now. That fleet of theirs is annoying the hell out of me: they're currently shelling civilian positions, which is unacceptable to anyone. I suggest we send a little message to Dregruk: pick a carrier, any carrier, and ram an ICKM down its throat."

Bao pondered for a moment, then shook her head slowly. "No...not a carrier. I have a better idea. Why don't we..."

* * *

North Atlantic Ocean

Alpha Squadron had returned to base following the abortive attack - or, rather, had rearmed with new battery packs (just to be sure), and had taken a small breather for simple morale purposes, before being sent back out again.

This time, however, they head towards Falasturn airspace, roaring towards the border at eight times the speed of sound from far out into the Atlantic - they are stratospheric, however, and so the sonic booms do not pose a threat to any nations they may be forced to pass far below.

As the aircraft pierce Falasturn airspace, far out of the reach of conventional anti-air units, they transmit (in Nenyan, Quenya, Sindarin, English and Spanish): "This is ICEL 1 Air Assault Squadron reporting in. On approach to Pavlita on a mission of mercy. We are flying under a neutral flag, and will offer aerial protection to civilians evacuating the city. Any interference or efforts to attack civilians evacuating that city will constitute an immediate response by the 1 Air Squadron. Repeat, this is ICEL 1 Air Assault Squadron..."

For the brief flicker of an instant, a tiny red dot flickered on the deck of a Dregruk destroyer merrily engaged in shelling the island of Gavela. It was far too brief a time for anyone to be completely sure what had happened; a reflection of some instrument, perhaps? But at best, it was a red spot before the eyes of men on board a ship that was booming its violence out across the waves; in such a noisy place, visual errors are to be expected. Aren't they?

Yet high above, the MISAT which had painted the deckplate with secondary laser targeting to specifically calibrate its microwave guidance beam automatically adapted several meters to the right, and fired again. This time, the beam (which causes absolutely no damage, of course) hits the roof of the bridge.

The MISAT verifies visually in the next instant, ensuring that that was indeed the target aimed for. It doesn't chirp, or make any sound whatsoever; it merely waits for a radio signal from a missile which is even now roaring up through the atmosphere, grabbing at and pulling itself along magnetic field lines as it accelerates in the first phase of the attack.

The missile hits the lower extremity of what Humans consider to be space, and cuts power, turning back towards the Earth on a graceful arc; as it swings into this arc, gyros altering its motion carefully, it fires off a radio signal to the MISAT above.

The MISAT immediately fires its m-wave targeting beam, which intersects with the roof of the bridge. The beam is very low energy, which means that it spreads significantly: the ship is, on either side of the bridge on the exposed upper deck, bathed in microwaves. Not very many zippy little microwaves are actually hitting anything of note, but there are enough flying around to raise the ambient air temperature directly inside the beam (at sea level - or, in this case, ship level) by perhaps a hundredth of a kelvin.

The missile hits the third and final stage; the only point at which it can be deflected.

It finds the centre of the microwave beam by the intensity of microwaves - it is shielded itself against their ravaging effects against delicate circuitry at higher intensities - and falls down the beam rapidly, accelerating hard enough that it will impact the ceiling of the bridge of the destroyer far below at some twenty-seven times the speed of sound. Protected from atmospheric interaction by its propulsive system, the missile doesn't even heat up by a single calorie; but if it does hit the ship, it's almost certain to turn the impact zone into molten metal, and break the keel asunder as it roars halfway down through the ship through deck after deck before finally reaching critical mass and splintering into a million pieces.

In short, the explosion will be pretty deadly: the equivalent of two tons of TNT exploding inside the ship, roughly halfway down to the keel. The 'back' of the ship is almost certain to break, unless the missile is deflected to one side or the other by particuarly dense material (on the order of the lead shielding found in a nuclear reactor); but the vector of the missile would need to be altered by twenty or thirty degrees to be effective enough to prevent a kill, in all likelihood.

From the moment of the beginning of the 'kill phase' to the impact point will be approximately six seconds - but the missile will only be in range of flak cannons for two...

[OOC: See OOC thread for more info on these kinetic missiles. I'll even be nice and tell you the secret of avoiding them - one of your naval types would think it up after one or two kills like the above (presuming you don't have really, really, REALLY good automated flak cannons tied into radar units tracking the incoming), anyway, so I should give it to you rather than expect you to think it out. :)]

Jensen slammed a thick folder down on the desk.

“I’ve got the goddamned evidence and we can nail those assholes!”

Commander Preskin raised an eyebrow. “So you’re telling me you can verify that those missiles killed the people and were fired from the Ma-Tek…”

“Yes damn it!” interrupted First Investigative Officer Jensen. “Now, here’s the basic gist of those things. The missiles shot down, and at a pre-programmed level above the ground, verified by both altitude detectors and some type of ground detector, they vaporized.”

“This set off a chain reaction inside the weapons, by some process the engineers promise me is possible. God knows how, but the thing begins vibrating and explodes. This sends out a wave of pure sound, which is enough to temporarily vibrate the central meninges enough to knock out portions of the hippocampus, causing instantaneous loss of consciousness at the levels the wave traveled, as well as hearing loss at further ranges.”

“That’s how the missiles work, and we think they have an effective range of about 20m for the knocking out portion, on open ground and with a normal healthy person. However, these hit a hospital. Factoring in the weakened state of everyone in that hospital, my data says that easily 30m are possible in every direction for the knocking out, with the normal range for the healthy doctors and nurses and technicians. Add in the fact that the things hit in a place with long corridors designed to make noise amplify, so as to increase healing time for recovering patients walking again, don’t know how but something to do with hearing their footsteps more, and you’ve got the sounds echoing down halls even further then normal. We’re talking 40m range here. And the waves aren’t stopped by walls. So they’re effective up to that range.”

“But here’s the best part. Normally, the missiles would simply spread sideways and possibly up, incapacitating soldiers to the sides of the missiles. But remember the fact they go off 10 feet or so above the ground? The hospital didn’t trigger that. Ceilings were too thin. Add in the fact that this is the oldest hospital in Samtonia, so it has the old non-reinforced roofing, and those missiles, traveling at their velocity and with their weight, which we can calculate based on speed, direction, and wind speed at the time, and those missiles would penetrate up to six floors before detonating. Now we’re talking a 40m radius in all directions, including up, that will have a good chance of killing 25% of anyone in the radius in that building.”

He shook his head. “It’s a damned shame. If those had hit any other building, they couldn’t have done anything like that. And with five of them hitting the half-mile wide hospital complex, well there were a lot more then the 40m cubed area that was affected. And get this! We’ve tracked the sats, beyond a reasonable doubt, to Ma-Tek. I knew we had a reason for watching all sat launches and logging them. I looked back through the backlogs. And sure enough- more then half of the satellites that launched the missiles were recorded as either launching from Ma-Tek at some point or appearing in the area of a Ma-Tek ship in orbit. Coincidence, no?”

Preskin sat there, aghast. “We need to release this. Now. Get it out to the world.”

+++++++++++
Somewhere in Samtonia
Third Broadcast of Samtonian government in Hiding

Hello, to all. We still fight on. Our hearts go out to all resisting the depredations of the Dregukian foes and their allies.
But now is a time of truth. Truth that Samtonia demands be given. Along with this broadcast, you will find the release of the entirety of documents of the Samtonian investigation of the missile strike on our hospital complex. AS was stated before, thousands died. We’ve revised our earlier estimates slightly, but the count still stands high.
And we decry Ma-tek. They denied the incident. But their lies have been exposed. The documents given to every major press branch in the world, the UN, and every government we have ties with, exposes their lies. They have words. We have cold, scientific evidence backing us up. Mathematical formulae, reasons as to why the strikes did so much damage, designs of the hospitals and the impact charts, logs of the satellites launching the missiles and the logs detailing the launches of those satellites from Ma-Tek, the evidence goes on in greater detail then I have time to explain. But it is sound, it is logical, and it proves beyond a doubt- Ma-Tek committed this heinous act.

WE still keep our original demands. Apology. The appropriate restitution. But now we ask for one more thing. An answer. Why the hospital was targeted. Why Samtonia was targeted. And why Ma-Tek feels it right to slaughter thousands of defenseless Samtonians.

The answers to these demands are up to Ma-Tek. But make no doubt. When elected head of the Council of Thirteen, I pledged to defend Samtonia from all attacks. And God and NATO willing, if we are not answered, I will have to defend our nation from this attack.

I make not a threat, but a promise. Samtonia requires an explanation. And we will settle for nothing less. Even if that means full out war against Ma-Tek. We will pursue that only as a last resort, but it will and still remains an option. It is in Ma-tek’s hands now. I can only hope they make the correct decision.

http://img94.exs.cx/img94/2290/Clipboard12.jpg
Minister X, Leader of Samtonian Council of Thirteen

Aboard Carrier 1
"I see, yes sir. ... That many, good God! Yes, we shall support them at once! For the Holy Empire!" The Admiral hangs up the phone.
"Alright, we ha-"
"Sir!" A radio breaks through. The Admiral picks up his phone.
"Yes, what is it!?"
"This is 6th through 10th fleet sir. Wwe've arrived at your positions."
"I see, we shall make way to support the Falastur forces currently in battle NOW! We shall pick up the rear and advance to the front, firing all the way to relieve them. Make way for Alpha-2-Bravo-6 at best speed until we are 5 NM (nautical miles, for you non-navy nuts) out, then have the subs run at 20 knots, their silent speed, and abush the front line Dreguk forces with a pincer attack by our subs."
"Sir yes sir!" The transmission ends.
---Two hours later, 2 miles behind Falastur naval combatants---
The Admiral raises an encrypted frequency to the Falastur naval forces.
"This is The Holy Imperial Navy of Christopher Thompson, Admiral Christoph Alexander Speaking. We need you to launch all that you have in a diversion in 45 minutes, we have a plan..."
As this is spoken, the 25 Sea Wolf subs, and 25 Los Angeles Suba divide into two equal groups, 12 Seawolf and 13 Los Angeles in Pincer 1, and 13 Seawolf and 12 Los Angeles in the other, Pincer 2.
"This is Alexander, ...yes..., full battle stations, I'm taking the fleet under direct command, right now." *Click*
Alarms and red light went off everywhere, and all were battle ready within 2 minutes.

"Okay. Pincer 1 and 2 will strike the enemy in a pincer formation from each of the enemy's sides, while running at 10 knots, well below their silent speed. Then, We shall launch EVERY cruise missle on ever ship at the forces remaining, and we shall launch a MASSIVE air battle, consisting of all our anti-air F-14's, and a further bombardment of all surviving ships via our S3-B Vikings. While this is happening, we shall move to the front lines all the way to provide some relief for the navy of Falastur. We shall, however, remain in a tight-knit group for fire concentration and further protection. Is this understood?"
The room and all comms raised aloud with 'Sir Admiral yes Sir's
"Good" The Admiral allowed himself one of his rare and devious smiles. He was content, at least for the moment...
As all this was happening, 10 E2-C Hawkeyes launched off to get radar on all the enemy ships. With 10 Hawkeyes, they could pinpoint all the enemy positions easily and precisely without error, and they were still 2 miles behind Falastur's navy, well out of range of enemy missles, but not out of range for the Hawkeyes radar...
When the Hawkeyes landed, they revieled just how many enemy ships there were in this battle: (DREGUK, PLEASE TELL ME WHAT SURFACE SHIPS YOU HAVE AT THIS BATTLE)
At this time, the Admiral took time to recite the Holy battle cry of the Holy Empire, as a testamont of honor to the forcs they were about to meet in battle.
"In the name of Christopher Thompson and The Holy Empire, we will grind to dust all obsticles in our path, obliterating all heretics and heathens who would dare challenge our sacred house built on blood and honor."
He allows himself an even wider, devilish grin, and his eyes burn with the flame of war as sparks fly up the small of his back, making hairs raise all over his body. Now, he was ready for war.

Meanwhile atwixt the preparations for battle, a message was sent to Samtonia via secret encrypted comunique:
This is the Holy Empire Of Chrisotpher Thompson. The actions of Ma-tek are condemmed by all here. We will stand and fight for you, but not blind. Please tell us what is happening in Samtonia, and what you would have us do with our navy. When we are freed of this battle for Falastur, we will help you with godspeed.
(Please provide map if possible, and be specific)

(Encrypted to Samtonia)



ATTENTION SAMTONIAN GOVERNMENT GREETINGS FROM ADMIRAL FREY MESFIN AL-DIN COMMANDER 2ND VASTIVAN FLEET AND WOLFPACK SIX ... ASSETS ARE ENTERING COMBAT AREAS PLEASE FORWARD SIT-REP IMMEDIATELY... (message repeats twice and terminates)

There was no response from the Samtonian armed forces. It was silent. The men looked around, and a war-scarred commander smiled. "Lock and load, idiots!" The infantry quietly snuck forward, while the four large missles launchers still arced missles towards the encampments. The men were very close to De Soto. One well-guided missle...

Out at sea, the Tigre Negra Division and the Casa Oro Division arrived at the minefields. The smaller ships quickly shot over the water again, trying to make it to the shore of De Soto as quickly as possible. As for the Battleships, they waited to launch their attacks against any submarines.

Samtonian Coast, near DeSoto
“And shoot.”

With those words, one of the largest traps devised by Samtonian military leaders swung shut around the hapless Lethislavanians.

As they warily made their way forwards, towards the silent Samtonian encampment, they encountered….nothing. No soldiers. No fleeing civilians. No wildlife. The entire countryside was deserted. This naturally began to edge out the nerves of even the most scarred veteran. After all, war was loud. But where was the noise?

While their missile launcher continued to spew out missiles, the infantry slowly advanced to the edge of the encampment. To discover- no one. Nothing moved in the slight coastal breeze- but a note. A note that was quickly read and passed along to the commander of the advancing force.


To the commander of the forces here,

Hello, and welcome to Samtonia. It’s really a beautiful place, if you lived here your entire life. But as you haven’t, please follow along with this short description of our glorious country.

To your left, you see the coast. High cliffs, steep drops, and extensive minefields. Minefields you haven’t quite triggered yet. Unfortunately, your motorboats are very weak skinned and just one mine exploding will take them out. But we’ll get back to that in a moment.

To your right are numerous dunes, sand with tall grass. If you listen closely, you should hear the sounds of tanks starting up just about now.

Ahead of you is our encampment, which you’ve been shelling for some time. It’s a pity then, that there aren’t any soldiers in it. Indeed, your incessant shooting has alerted us as to where the missile launcher is.

So look behind you. The fiery orange ball you should see in a moment is your missile-launching vehicle being blown to shreds. I’m told a 155mm SPHM shell can penetrate even the top armor on a MBT. Don’t worry, your men cooked off as fast as their ammunition.

Now, back to the minefield. You’ll notice shells beginning to fall on it, setting off the shrapnel mines near the surface. I hope your motorboat operators love to swim. Oh, and those battleships? You won’t be seeing those much longer.

So, before the Samtonian tanks crest that hill, we’d like you to receive one last parting gift from your faithful Samtonian Artillery corps. Hope you like napalm.

Yours truly,
Samtonian Council of Thirteen


And as he finished reading the note, a sudden whistling sound made the commander jump slightly.
++++++++++
Samtonian Coast, Enemy Artillery Battery

The crew was just prepping another round of shells when suddenly they too heard a whistling sound. They would never discover what this might be. However, the 65 shells fired by a Samtonian self-propelled guns would be the final thing they would hear. It’s told that one shell could crack a tank- and an artillery gun was nowhere near as armored as a tank.

++++++++++
Samtonian Coast near DeSoto

While the motorboats continued in, a sudden whistling sound interrupted the drone of the boats’ motors. And as suddenly as that was heard, mines began cooking off. The driver of one boat saw a veritable wall of flame erupt feet in front of his boat.

Shrapnel and mines cooking off was not what the men manning the transports wanted to have to deal with.

++++++++++
Lethislavanian Force, near DeSoto, Samtonia

Shells quickly began falling over the enemy force, blanketing the ground in a rain of death. Death and fire, as it said in the bible. Because every third shell was filled to the brim with napalm. An explosive cocktail of death soon began falling from the sky, consisting of two shells napalm, one shell cluster bombs, and four shells high explosive.

It was nicknamed the “Raging Inferno.” It was the favored barrage of Samtonian gunners. And it was decidedly unpleasant to be under, to say the least. Indeed, the very ground was scourged by the ferocity of this barrage. And the barrage was steadily immolating the enemy forces.

OOC- About 200 guns firing at this time, 30 towards the minefield and the rest towards your forces. Raging Inferno to be fired as quickly as possible, probably four shells per minute by all Self-Propelled Mortar pieces.

OOC: You might perhaps be going a bit overboard firing all your cruise missiles. For a start, you'll probably take down half my fighters in the air.

(DREGUK, PLEASE TELL ME WHAT SURFACE SHIPS YOU HAVE AT THIS BATTLE)

He posted before, but if you didn't catch it, here it is again:

Ships of the fleet:

3 MaRTHA Class Carriers with:
20 Spearhead Fighters
15 FG-98 Bombers
30 Shield Support Fighters
2 Aggressor Flying-Fortresses

1 Ghetto Class Super-carrier with:
30 Spearhead Fighters
20 FG-98 Bombers
35 Shield Support Fighters
4 Aggressor Flying-Fortresses

1 Flagship
4 Harbinger Heavy Cruisers
2 Recovery Ships
6 Krazny-Oktyabr (A cookie to whoever spots the book reference!) Class Stealth Subs
9 Tiger Class Guided Missile Cruisers
4 Arran Class Destroyers
5 Hrrachen Class AEGIS Destroyers
2 Iron-fist Class Battleships
6 Skye Class Heavy Frigates
4 Underhand Class Torpedo Boats
2 Mercury Class Assault Ships
2 Re-supply Ships
6 Hammer Class Corvettes
2 Oracle Class long-range logistics ships
30 "Brute" Ram-ships

Colonel Plisken led the patrol, it was a matter of leadership & besides he needed the fresh air & the buzz that only came from leading at the front, whether in training or reality with two armies & thousands of square miles separating you from home.

Nightfall had claimed their vision, though a short period of acclimating their eyes to the shadow drawn landscape proved beneficial yet unnecessary due to modern technology, as well as anyone else who happened to be out. Except the people most likely to be on the move right now would be desperate civilians & their counterparts in both armed forces present.
They’d know where their nearest neighbours were within a few weeks of buying the property, it was now simply a case of checking each location for residents & if required providing them with incentive to leave the area quickly. The nearest property lay within twenty minutes brisk walking & as such had to be made permanently uninhabitable for the duration of their stay in the area, it was a nearly identical copy though with slightly altered layout to their own adopted rural home.

As they approached from the shadow of the building they caught signs of life within its walls despite some efforts to protect their existence, the shifting of a shadow as a source of light -most likely a lantern or torch- was moved from one room to another, fleeing Pavlita residents or the forefront of an advancing echelon it didn’t matter. Plisken took Cornelius with him to the side door whilst the other pair took a low window as means of entry, the door wasn’t even locked & that meant either a trap was waiting for a confident entry or else the current occupant wasn’t the owner.
Not that it was of much significance in the latter case, a quick observation through the windows by the door removed one threat & they entered with the door closing silently behind them. On the other side of the building where the second pair had entered through the low window faster progress was made, it seemed a basement had been incorporated in to this design & after this brief point of interest they continued. Inside ten minutes of all four men entering the building its occupant, owner, looter or otherwise was now a fixed resident till somebody found the time to bury him.


The few closest homes were relatively quiet, activity was fairly light which was something of a surprise but then again this area didn’t promise another city for quite some trek, which seemed all the more attractive to the four however they weren’t fleeing for their lives.

OOC: Wow... Just... Wow... So, you've decimated the whole Tigre Plata division.

IC:

"Bloody idiots..." Casa chuckeled deeply. "They do not realize what they have done..." The screen flickered on, showing a young man sneaking into a large hospital, with a bulging backpack. Similiar pictures erupted over the 40-odd screens in his control room. "My corporation - the size of a small country, is one large army. Do they not realize this?"

Meanwhile, the remaining ships began to concentrate their fire towards the tanks coming up the countryside. The 12 Vipers shot off, ready to launch bombs. And far off, an even larger explosion was being made.


Encrypted Message to Samtonia

Sabre Corporation thanks you for your nice wake-up call; however, all you have done is agitated a pinkie on a giant. We will crush you like an ant. You don't know who we are, but our logistics and strategy is much greater than yours. You are seeing crap from us; this is a ruse. De Soto and Shelby, distractions. We know where you are hiding. And you will be dead soon. This is game point, men, and the advantage is ours.

Tippecanoe, North Lotusland

General Strogan Theirland of the Dregruk occupational force loved it here. A medium-size city on this island paradise. A large, country villa to live in. And dove. He loved the dove here. Sauteed with onions and mushrooms...they know their dove in North Lotusland. He really...

A tinkle of noise. Glass breaking? Then a sharp pain is chest. Why is his shirt red...red with blood? Why is the sky getting dark? It's just the middle of the day.

A half-mile away, Greg Beckman hadn't even stopped to smile. He was already moving for the safehouse.

10 miles of the coast of Isla, North Lotusland

The Dregruk troop transport was pulling forces out of North Lotusland. Surely they were needed desperately elsewhere. Unescorted, as North Lotusland had no naval presence to speak of, they sailed away.

The noise was defeaning, accompanied by a huge splash of water. Dregruk crewman's ankles broke as the shockwave traveled up the boat...but that wouldn't matter as they were on their way to a watery grave. The Manning had entered the war.

Outside Blythe, Capital City, North Lotusland
"Sir, the Florists have given us the target."
"Excellent. Launch."

The G-4 STS missiles opened from their covered emplacements and launched. Trails of fire shot into the air. There was a lot of open wilderness in North Lotusland, and although some of the missile dumps had been discovered, others had not. A rain of heavy explosives flew down toward the Dregruk military encampment north of the city.

The eve of battle was upon them. The men all prepared to do what they had trained many years for: Battle. The NIMITZ carriers moved quickly accross the water, slicing deep into it's dark, foreboding waters, as their AEGIS VLS Ticonderoga-47 guards cut through the icy-blue water and they setting sun, keeping a Pentagon around the Carriers at all times. It was a glorious night to begin war. If one were to put an ear up next to the hull of a Ticonderoga, particularly the back-end, they would have heard many sounds: voices yelling commands, and muffled 'yessir's, groaning steel, fast-running motors, but most of all, they would have noticed one man's voice echoeing throughout the comm systems of them all: The Admiral's. Deep in his Carrier, he gave an order that would begin the war on Dreguk. It was a simple, perhaps too simple a 4-lettered word to begin a war. That word, was FIRE. Simultaneously, all the 50 Ticonderoga's lined their missles on their targets and fired. Each Ticonderoga carried 18 cruise missles capable of hitting sea targets: 10 TASM, the world's most advanced Anti-ship cruise missle since the Shipwreck SSM by the Soviets, and 8 Older, but still very lethal Harpoon cruise missles. All the men aboard every Ticonderoga cringed as all 18 missles went off every Ticonderoga, and some said prayers for the enemy. The shipmen were amazed by the noise, but were more amazed when they looked at the sky. It was almost pure white. Strange, because only a minute ago, the sun had been seen setting in vibrant tones of red, gold and orange. Upon further inspection, one would notice that it was not daylight, but missle light, and and the white was their trails and contours, as they arced down to the sea, pulling up at the last second at a nap of the earth profile, creating wave after wave of lined-up cruise missles, flying in formation, as if it had been planned that way. The Cruise missles were perfectly programmed for this specific flight; each one was hooked up to an AEGIS system in the Ticonderoga, and they were all linked with one another to feed data together simultaneously. The missles would attack the first able ships until they were hit 5 times, then they would move on to the next able ship. Of course that was not what their primary programming was, thet was after their primary progrmming. The missles had been programmed to work in groups, 5 at a time to attack specific ships, each wave was programmed the same, so if their designated ship was hit 5 times, then they would actively seek the next viable target according to their programming. (For those of you counting, that's 18 waves of 50 missles, each 30 seconds apart, so each ship will have approximately 9.1 missles fired at it, but we'll round down to 9 and not include the extras, we'll say that they got jammed by his capabilities (which are rather generous jamming capabilities, but I hate math))
In the black, murky depths, the subs had approached using the line, a depth where the water got cold and dense enough that sonar was reflected back up, making their detection all the more impossible (you don't think ship sonar goes all the way to the bottom of the sea, do you?). Hearing the deafening roar of so many missles shooting off, the subs fired their torpedoes at maximum effective range, and a spectacular roar of compressed air and shuddering metal from each submarines' frames' could be heard in Glorious anthem. Each of the torpedos had been programmed with specific targets to fire upon, and would follow them to the ends of their fuel, regardless of what happened. (For those of you counting, Los Angeles have 4 Torp tubes, and Seawolf have 8, so that's one wave of 300 torps, or approx. 3 per enemy ship (again, we'll say the extras went off course and ran out of fuel, or something))
At this time, the subs took the liberty of dispersing the area at 20 knots (their best silent speed, remember there's alot of fire going on above the water, especially now, and the torps are making ALOT of noise, so you have the position where they were when they fired, but not where they're going, and soon there will be many explosions, so anti-sub warfare will be close to impossible, especially since the subs are returning bobing up and down the 'line', or the depth where sonar is reflected b/c the water is too cold and dense)

"YES! THIS IS WAR! HAHAHAHA!" Laughed an almost crazed Admiral. Ever since the revolution, he had been itching for war, and now he was getting it.
"Get the Tomcats off these cold decks, now Ensign!"
"YESSIR!"

On his command, the flight decks errupted with activity. 500 tomcats, one after the other, loaded with 6 Aim-54 Pheonix Long-range AAM's, and 4 aim-9 Sidewinder AAM's slid off the decks, one after the other, ready to pulverize the enemy aircraft. They prepared to move in after the missles and torpedo battle had ceased, but for now stayed out of range of the enemy's AA capabilities. They would have to send planes to shoot the Tomcats down, none were to be killed by a ships lap-dog AA missle. While the missles streaked away, the F-14's formed a 'line', holding their airspace, and were prepared to keep any enemy aircraft from pushing through to bombard or make missles strikes of their own against all friendly's. For now, they waited defensively, until the missles and torpedoes had done their damage...
"What a beautiful testamont of war!" The Admiral cried.

Atwix all this, a communique was broadcasted on all frequencies:
Well, now. How does it feel? To have your navy in real action? Hmmm?
Were your pitiful unknown reasons for going to war worth all this? You have fallen into one of our most devious traps in ages. We shall act as a Holy Wrath in these waters, purifying them from your tainted navy. We will grind you to dust, crushing your hapless navy into oblivion. How dare you challenge Falastur, our ally. You challenge our sacred house built on Blood and Honor! You shall be killed for your sins, purging your souls. In the name of God, Christopher Thompson and The Holy Empire, you shall die.

OOC: This is my Admiral, not me. He LOVES war. And he's the Admiral to a normally pacifist nation, so he's relishing in this.

White is the area my ships are occupying
Brown is the area Falastur's ships are occupying
Red is the area Dreguk's ships are occupying
Black is the area Pincer 1 is occupying (but retreating from to behind our lines)
Green is the area Pincer 2 is occupying (but retreating from to behind our lines)

President's Estate - Brutus, Four Hectares. 6 AM Local.

The troops and their commanders had worked hard all night to prepare for war in Falastur. Now, all was ready. President Kotula picked up his encrypted phone and dialed General Kuleszaf's number...

"This is General Kuleszaf"

"Good morning General. I am calling to ask you if we will be ready to begin moving troops later this morning?"

"Good morning sir. Yes indeed, our final preparations are complete and our transportation is secured. We await only your command."

"Excellent. Inform your subordinates that you are to begin moving out by 0900. As you are well aware, we expect the sea voyage to take two days, assuming weather conditions hold. Those travelling by air will be paradropping in within hours."

"That is correct sir."

"I wish you and our troops the best of luck. That will be all General."

"Thank you sir."

Kotula hung up the phone. Immediatley, he dialed Captain Bergov's number...

"Captain? Good morning. I have told General Kuleszaf to give the command to move out beginning at 0900. I expect that you are ready to commence operations."

"Indeed we are sir. All C-130 transports are fully prepared to fly in approximately 48000 troops within six hours. They will be landed in the province of Yerente, north of Pavlita along with their equipment. The aircraft will turn around and come back for additional troops. The initial troops will establish a center of operations there about 40 miles north of the city."

"And what of the air strikes last night Captain?"

"Sir, from what I can gather, of the 16 missiles we fired last night, at least 9 found their targets. Of the remaining 7, five were shot down, we are not sure by whom. It is unknown what became of the other two. I am basing this on what little information I can get out of Falastur right now."

"Thank you Captain and good luck. That will be all."

"Thank you sir."

Kotula hung up the phone. So at least some of the missiles had apparently hit their targets. This was good news, for Dregruk's military was enormous and they would need all the help they could get to defeat them. Now, it was only a matter of time before the troops could mobilize and make their way to Falastur and then the real war would begin...

OOC: Wow... Just... Wow... So, you've decimated the whole Tigre Plata division.

IC:

"Bloody idiots..." Casa chuckeled deeply. "They do not realize what they have done..." The screen flickered on, showing a young man sneaking into a large hospital, with a bulging backpack. Similiar pictures erupted over the 40-odd screens in his control room. "My corporation - the size of a small country, is one large army. Do they not realize this?"

Meanwhile, the remaining ships began to concentrate their fire towards the tanks coming up the countryside. The 12 Vipers shot off, ready to launch bombs. And far off, an even larger explosion was being made.


Encrypted Message to Samtonia

Sabre Corporation thanks you for your nice wake-up call; however, all you have done is agitated a pinkie on a giant. We will crush you like an ant. You don't know who we are, but our logistics and strategy is much greater than yours. You are seeing crap from us; this is a ruse. De Soto and Shelby, distractions. We know where you are hiding. And you will be dead soon. This is game point, men, and the advantage is ours.

Encrypted Message to Lethislavania

Your troops will cease fire in Samtonia immediately, and remove themselves completely.

Failure to do so will result in the use of Vastivan SSGN and SSBN assets around your homeland, placed during your revolution.

We aided in the keeping of your country together and it would most seriously wound us to have to take it apart again. However, we cannot have one of our most favored allies savaged in such a manner.

Please do not force our hand.

Namaste,
General Riva Sola al-Din
Commander
Vastivan Armed Services
Humble Servant of His Magnificence, the Sultan of Vastiva

The Vastivan 2nd Fleet became the accidental - but quite effective - cap on the bottle that held the Lethislavanian fleet inside the minefield zone.

Arriving, they discovered the Lethislavanians between them and Samtonia - and they knew which side they stood upon.

200 F-125 Gyrafalcons spewed off the decks of the two Twelve Tribes carriers, half holding back on defense, half spreading into a crescent formation, to envelop the Lethislavanian fleet in fighters.

Admiral Frey Mesfin al-Din hoped the Lethislavanians would simply give up the ghost and surrender to the trap they had been enclosed in.

Then again, if their answer was to fight, the Admiral had half of the fleet's Slinger SSGNs hidden behind the bulk of the twin carriers, waiting at periscope death to unleash hell on the Lethislavian fleet.

--Dregruk (OOC: DregRuk. Not Dreguk. RUK!) Military Command--

"We're getting reports from North Lotusland, sirs. A troop craft has been sunk by a submersible, we believe."

"Do we have any subs we could send over there? Find out phantom troop sinker?"

A pause.

"Yes, we do, sir. The Crimson Scorpion."

"Send 'em on a search and destroy mission."

Due to no one replying to my posts, I'm pulling out.

Safehouse - Early Morning
They’d had plenty of time to think, to plan & even to sleep relatively undisturbed until the sound of fighting in not so distant Pavlita made everyone far too nervous to sleep but they forced themselves to rest, waiting for an option to present itself.
Sods Law acting in great tradition denied them the chances they needed to properly insert themselves in to the conflict & then work their way to neutral territory, so they continued to wait for the situation to improve in their favour. Listening to the odd report on the radio, though these seemed more & more frequently false in content but also their feeling, that little something which was more instinct than thought. They were predators within sight of prey & terribly aware that their chance would come soon but to play their hand too soon would be an act in vain.

Due to no one replying to my posts, I'm pulling out.

Sorry to see you go.

IC:

--Coast of Crealir--

The fleet was taking heavy fire from the combined enemy of Falastur and Christopher Thompson. Onboard the flagship, reports were flooding in of direct hits from more and more of the ships.

In the hangar of one of the super-carriers, Daniel Lobowski climbed into the cockpit of his Spearhead fighter plane. Taking a quick look around at the fleet, he saw explosions coming from the sides of the Dregruk navy.

"Bravo-Epsilon 2-niner, you are clear for takeoff."

Hearing his plane's registration code being read out, Lobowski turned on the powerful jet engines and began his takeoff. Along with him were 4 other Spearheads, each beginning their takeoff.

A few lucky shells began raining down upon them.

One of the Spearheads was blown apart by a shell as it's wheels left the flight deck. Lobowski glanced behind him to see more shells impacting on the deck, blowing up equipment and crewmen as they hit.

Aboard Carrier 1
"What's the status of the enemy?"
"They're being pulverized, sir. Radar and sonar are confirming hit after hit by torpedoes and Falastur's shells, and our missles will be there in seconds"
"Yes! If they had any ASW (Anti-submarine warfare) capabilities before, surely they've been killed off by now!"
"Indeed."
"Right, phase one is complete. The missles will hit when?"
"The first wave will be there in approximately 45 seconds, Admiral."
"Good, send in the Tomcats, in squadrons of 10, and have them shoot any bird out of the sky. If it flies and it's not a friendly, have it blown out of the sky, no questions asked."
"Yessir"
And on his command, 150Tomcats moved in in groups at mach 1.88, arming their Pheonix long-range AAM's, and preparing to shoot down any and all enemy planes.

Press Release

SAMTONIA KILLS THOUSANDS OF INNOCENT MEN IN COMBAT!

This week, Samtonia unleashed an arsenal of weapons upon a small force of ships that was coming to aid them against Dregruk. Sadly, it seems the Samtonian Government is no better than the Dregrukian scum. They launched napalm attacks on unsuspecting men setting up naval defense equipment and running tests. They also had they aduacity to send out a fake messagre from a 'supposed' Sabre Corporation worker.

Sorry for the short and bad writing, I'm being held hostage.

Press Release

SAMTONIA KILLS THOUSANDS OF INNOCENT MEN IN COMBAT!

This week, Samtonia unleashed an arsenal of weapons upon a small force of ships that was coming to aid them against Dregruk. Sadly, it seems the Samtonian Government is no better than the Dregrukian scum. They launched napalm attacks on unsuspecting men setting up naval defense equipment and running tests. They also had they aduacity to send out a fake messagre from a 'supposed' Sabre Corporation worker.

Sorry for the short and bad writing, I'm being held hostage.

General al-Din read this latest release somewhat baffled.
"Aide! Contact Yasassin and find out who is in charge of that country now. We don't want to fire missiles at the wrong people."

"Sir! We've got incoming cruise missiles!"

"Bring the H.A.A.C. online."

"Yes sir."

"Tell them to target the incoming cruise missiles, then get them to spray the tomcats that are just taking off."

All over the fleet, hatches on the tips of the vessels slid back, allowing large silver cylinders to be raised into position. When they reached the full extension, they unfolded, revealing dangerous looking barrels.

Suddenly, the Heavy Anti-Air Cannon swiveled around maniacally, spraying thousands of shells a second at the incoming missiles.

--Crealir--

One of the army groups, heading to the south, had split into smaller units for recon.

"This is unit 8, this area's clear."

"Damn, what a piss hole. There's nothing here."

"Shh!" Cautioned the group leader, frowning and looking around. "Do you hear something?"

"INCOMING MISSILES!" Screamed one of the men, taking cover in a nearby ditch.

Missiles screeched down onto the turf around them, killing handfuls of them instantly.

Somewhere in Samtonia
Third Broadcast of Samtonian government in Hiding

Hello, to all. We still fight on. Our hearts go out to all resisting the depredations of the Dregukian foes and their allies.
But now is a time of truth. Truth that Samtonia demands be given. Along with this broadcast, you will find the release of the entirety of documents of the Samtonian investigation of the missile strike on our hospital complex. AS was stated before, thousands died. We’ve revised our earlier estimates slightly, but the count still stands high.
And we decry Ma-tek. They denied the incident. But their lies have been exposed. The documents given to every major press branch in the world, the UN, and every government we have ties with, exposes their lies. They have words. We have cold, scientific evidence backing us up. Mathematical formulae, reasons as to why the strikes did so much damage, designs of the hospitals and the impact charts, logs of the satellites launching the missiles and the logs detailing the launches of those satellites from Ma-Tek, the evidence goes on in greater detail then I have time to explain. But it is sound, it is logical, and it proves beyond a doubt- Ma-Tek committed this heinous act.

WE still keep our original demands. Apology. The appropriate restitution. But now we ask for one more thing. An answer. Why the hospital was targeted. Why Samtonia was targeted. And why Ma-Tek feels it right to slaughter thousands of defenseless Samtonians.

The answers to these demands are up to Ma-Tek. But make no doubt. When elected head of the Council of Thirteen, I pledged to defend Samtonia from all attacks. And God and NATO willing, if we are not answered, I will have to defend our nation from this attack.

I make not a threat, but a promise. Samtonia requires an explanation. And we will settle for nothing less. Even if that means full out war against Ma-Tek. We will pursue that only as a last resort, but it will and still remains an option. It is in Ma-tek’s hands now. I can only hope they make the correct decision.

http://img94.exs.cx/img94/2290/Clipboard12.jpg
Minister X, Leader of Samtonian Council of Thirteen

12 Hours Ago

After a rather lengthy silence (for the Commonality is nothing if not utterly thorough before speaking, following some rather stinking errors in the past), a flurry of diplomatic activity takes place. Firstly, the MISAT network is utilized once again to transmit to every nation on the planet, bar none. Cislunar transmittors fire the save data out into the solar system - and the data is relayed to allied or friendly comms antennae that are capable of transmitting beyond, too.

The data transmitted is rather straightforward. The entire tactical log - barring small, insignificant missing data which is marked 'security sensitive' - from the overseeing AI's memory is dispatched, guarded with what's oddly referred to as 'memetic security software'. This software merely prevents alterations to the data packet (in which the tactical log is secured very thoroughly indeed) itself, no matter how many times the file is copied or altered; even the most advanced analysis clearly shows that the MSS program was a part of the forwarded file at the point of creation. There is, unfortunately for some, absolutely no question of a forgery; either the data really is accurate and true - or the forgers are so damned good that their tracks are just impossible to track. The former is far more probable, given the odds.

The tactical log itself is eminently clear: the missiles were fired from the IDS Vanguard, and not from the MISATs - which were known to be of a class of ICEL satelite utterly incapable of carrying weapons due to mass restrictions - and the controlling AI, Tatya, picked specific targets. The target co-ordinates shown in the log clearly do not include the hospital.

Along with the data packet is a brief transmission:

"The Unified Commonality Government cannot condone further smears on the good and honest reputation of the Crown Guard.

"We the People of the Commonality feel strongly that Samtonia's words are a direct assault on the very moral fibre of our great nation, and therefore we hereby warn Samtonia: do not offend our honour further by making false claims. Do not think to wheedle from the Commonality repayment for crimes not committed. Justice can only be righteous, never merely political; and Justice is one of the guiding principles of our very society.

"As private investigations inside the Commonality have conclusively and unanimously decided that no wrong-doing has occurred by the Crown Guard Navy or the Vilya Elenoston Space Force Liason Officer, Tatya, we have served that guiding principle of our society. The investigations were carried out in a clear, fair, and just manner. The recordings and materials from that investigation that are not security-sensitive are being released to the public at this time.

"Any claim that the investigations themselves were flawed or carried out in a manner not befitting the honourable actions of a civilized people will be considered a direct assault on the Honour of the Commonality and of the Iluvauromeni People themselves.

"Moreover, any such claim will be considered an insult. Worse, it will be the continuation of an insult loudly shouted.

"Samtonia is therefore warned. Furthermore, the Commonality orders Samtonia to cease and desist its propaganda campaign against us. Again, continuation will be considered an insult to the Honour of the Commonality.

"Samtonia has asked for an answer regarding the non-lethal surgical strikes carried out against military installations in Samtonia. We will answer that question: Samtonian targets were picked utterly at random out of those states currently involved in the War. Samtonia has no significance whatsoever, beyond its involvement. Perhaps if it was more than a mere rabble crying "Wolf!" when a mere pigeon flutters by, it would be of greater importance... yet we digress.

"To further clarify our position regarding these vile and disgusting allegations:

"The ant that bites the hand may show valour, yet when that hand shakes to free itself of the stinging yet merely irritating pain, the ant ought be wise enough to let go - lest the weaker be corrected by the greater."

~ Unified Commonality of Everlasting Light Government (Joint Statement by the executive, legislative, constitutional, judicial branches of ICEL Government)

* * *
9 Hours Ago

Barad Aelin installation, Nenya

Barad Aelin was seen only by eyes which knew it existed. It was a great fastness built nigh to the Aelinenya, a great lake which sat amidst and behind the grand capital of the Commonality - Nenya.

Nenya the forest, Nenya the lake, Nenya the city; all three merged into a seamless and beautiful whole. It was not difficult, gazing out via the VisiWall, to determine why so many millions of tourists flocked to Nenya every year. The city, albeit somewhat difficult to spot from this angle due to the trees amidst the buildings (and nigh on impossible to spot from the air), was rather stunning. The air was clean, too, which was rare for a city so large. Hundreds of millions of Sentients lived here; yet rare was the day when one saw very many people wandering. Most worked and lived below ground, and there were direct access routes to just about any building; you didn't have to go outside, and most people only went outside at night. Natural light flooded the city below, anyway; and vast VisiCeilings had been installed of late in many places, displaying the sky exactly as it appeared miles above.

But Barad Aelin was at the surface, but not inside the city. Instead, it was on the far side of the lake, nestled against a hill which had no name now and had never been named.

The Nenyan gazing out of the window pondered that fact for a moment, but dragged his mind elsewhere; that was a long history, and there was not enough time to sit and whisper thoughts to herself.

She sighed softly at the sight of the city - more so the forest, really - and turned from the window. "I understand utterly why I should be the one to do this, but do we really need someone on the ground?"

"Absolutely," the Commissioner informed her. He was not present, but he looked as though he were; the TVC units were becoming increasingly three dimensional. Why, that desk looked as if it was almost touchable; yet it was not entirely a good idea to do so. It would interrupt the image, and create a slight lag - and time-delays (say, the sixteen minutes radio lag to Vilya Elenosto and back) were annoying enough when they weren't self-imposed.

She resisted the urge to sigh again. 'Absolutely' was not the answer she had been looking for - but it was expected, somehow. The Commissioner never bothered to explain the purpose behind the actions to those who couldn't figure them out; he preferred to allow things to be worked out by the people who didn't understand - although he often gave small hints.

"The sparrow never entertains the notion of entering the desert, yet were a desert nigh to its wings, and a hawk were giving chase, would it not outwit the hawk by hiding thus?"

She smiled faintly at that rather blatant explanation; he did love his roundabout speech, though. She suspected it was the martial arts; mastering a weapon seemed to have this effect on people when they reached a certain age. She presumed that one day she would be spouting such words, but she hoped ardently to die before.

Well, not really anything so extreme. Just become completely incapable of speaking. And empathy. And telepathy. She decided that that surely was death (from her limited experience with being dead, one can probably see why), and then realised she was over focusing again.

"You'll be sent there as a diplomatic envoy. Carry the usual suspects; but I also want you to carry this..."

* * *

Four Hours Ago

{Commonality Diplomatic Corps transmission #8937819}
{TO: Samtonian Government}
{FROM: High King Semir-randil I}
{RE: Discussion}

The Commonality is dispatching a diplomatic courier vessel to bring Ambassador Dalari to Samtonia. There will also be medical staff on board who are trained and specialize with recovering patients from comatose states, as promised.

I strongly advise that the ship is not turned back.

{Transmission Terminates}

* * *

Now

Cislunar Space --> Near Samtonian Airspace

The vessel soared (sorta) through the silence (kinda) of space, EM fields at full energy as it decellerated from being hurled inwards from a cislunar shunt. She rifled into the atmosphere at eleven times the speed of sound nonetheless, causing rather a large swathe of atmosphere in her path to split utterly asunder and roar back together again in her wake; thus, her path was a turbulent one, even though the hull itself never once touched a single molecule of matter from outside its own form and structure.

Still she slows, her form altering rapidly as she does; formerly reminiscent of an M# with forward-sweeping and predatory, claw-like wings, she now flattens those wings inwards, more resembling a swan halfway through a beat of mighty white wings.

She holds this form before sweeping her wings back out again, her hull rippling with a rainbow of colours as current surges through tiny motive segments of metal which sweep up and over and under and even through each other to form rapidly into a multitude of shapes: the very engine of the ship is its hull, the reactive armour plating of a Tyelca Tuo class pocket cruiser.

Usually, when assigned to diplomatic duty, these ships are sighted with their gunports actually welded shut (or, at least, they appear to be so); this ship, however, has its gunports open.

This ship bears the name Truth and Justice upon its nosecone, and the Three Star Sigil, flag of the Commonality, is emblazened across its belly, even though the very metal is moving as if it were molten.

The ship isn't very visible as it descends, however, except as a blazing star of millions of shades and colours; it is only when it pauses at the very cusp of Samtonian airspace that its brightness diminishes to a level whereby the ship itself is visible.

It turns out to be rather small (but then, it IS a 'pocket cruiser), perhaps sixty metres long and half as wide. But the bow of the ship is littered with circular holes, which are without doubt gunports; there are fifteen visible, which almost certainly marks her as a thoroughbred warship - and not a 'diplomatic courier' vessel.

Still - investigation would yield the fact that this is the most advanced type of warship save the flagship Glorious Eagle at the disposal of the Commonality Space Force... and the Glorious Eagle is far too large to justify use as a diplomatic courier.

The ship waits in silence; for acceptance or battle, it stands ready.

* * *

In the other hemisphere, deep inside Ax-turath, ICKM launch ports open at an air force base near Turath. Satelites above ICEL that were 'cold' previously go 'hot', and definite energy spikes are registered as microwave beams flicker for several moments between those satelites and their neighbours. The beams lance around the planet from MISAT to MISAT, always finding a route where no ships can be found, and eventually arrive at the satelites positioned in orbit above (generally speaking) Dregruk.

The newly activated MISATs do not return to inactivity, as is in evidence by their frequent coded radio bursts to the ground (specifically towards Nenya), however.

Encryption ZX-45.b
Standard encryption methods apply
To: High King Semir-randil I


Let’s cut to the chase. Samtonia does firmly believe that it was through your actions that those innocents were killed. AS such, we are prepared to retaliate in full against your government, no matter how it may be necessary, to repay them. It’s gotten this far and Samtonia isn’t backing down.

Now, we’d just like to let you know about our military doctrine a bit. When we are threatened by a nation whose forces are far in advance of us and who threaten the very people of Samtonia, we are prepared to expand our entire nuclear, chemical, and biological stockpiles to protect Samtonia. This is not a threat, this is simply a warning.

Your government has seen it wise to attempt to ignore the very valid points brought up by our nation’s top researchers and academians; your government has seen it wise to deny an attack that was clearly carried out by your country against ours; and your government has seen it wise to simply shrug off extremely reasonable demands on our behalf.

The time for diplo-speak is over. Samtonia agrees to cease and desist our International campaign of knowledge against Ma-Tek and disavow any and all knowledge of how the attack may have been traced to you. In return, we demand that a private apology be given to the families of all involved in the attack, compensation be given to the families of victims, and the officer involved in this action be reprimanded, privately or publicly, and the reprimand be shown to all victims of this tragedy.

You are already ahead in technology, but never forget- superheated atoms can lay waste to even the most advanced technology. Samtonia can and will get weapons of strategic destruction to your country somehow. We will use these weapons. And we will be prepared to accept the aftermath of that attack. Because we feel cornered. We feel our national sovereignty is threatened. And even a cornered dog can still kill an attacking wolf. At the very least, we can and will kill enough of your citizens or destroy enough of your livelihood to exact our revenge.

Simply judge- is that risk great enough to swallow your pride and apologize to the people that you have wronged? Or are you willing to take the chance and face a ruined country and possibly world?

Samtonian Council of Thirteen

+++++++++++++
{Re: Commonality Diplomatic Corps transmission #8937819}
{TO: High King Semir-randil I }
{FROM: Council of Thirteen}

We’ll allow them into the country. However, you’re not taking that ship anywhere near us. We can see that it’s armed and ready to fire. Set it down on neutral land, get on another means of transportation, and you can come into Samtonia. Or go back home and get into an unarmed craft and then come back. Otherwise you’re not getting into Samtonia.

This is final and will not be negotiated. We fear too much for the safety of Samtonian citizens if we allow a ship from a hostile nation into our airspace. So, our answer is no. We will not allow them in. Unless they follow our directions.

Have a good day.

OOC: Sorry about my absence.

IC: Bat'haq was on the move. He didn't know where he was moving to, but he knew he was moving there, swinging majestically through the tall trunks of birch and beech as he made his way to wherever he was going. He breathed deeply through his respirator systems, unused to and unhappy with earth's atmosphere. The air here was too oxygenated, making him light-headed and eventually dead if he removed his mask; that said, it was either a very confident or a very stupid Predator who took off that most vital of machines except when his prey was almost vanquished.

Encryption ZX-45.b
Standard encryption methods apply
To: High King Semir-randil I


Let’s cut to the chase. Samtonia does firmly believe that it was through your actions that those innocents were killed. AS such, we are prepared to retaliate in full against your government, no matter how it may be necessary, to repay them. It’s gotten this far and Samtonia isn’t backing down.

Now, we’d just like to let you know about our military doctrine a bit. When we are threatened by a nation whose forces are far in advance of us and who threaten the very people of Samtonia, we are prepared to expand our entire nuclear, chemical, and biological stockpiles to protect Samtonia. This is not a threat, this is simply a warning.

Your government has seen it wise to attempt to ignore the very valid points brought up by our nation’s top researchers and academians; your government has seen it wise to deny an attack that was clearly carried out by your country against ours; and your government has seen it wise to simply shrug off extremely reasonable demands on our behalf.

The time for diplo-speak is over. Samtonia agrees to cease and desist our International campaign of knowledge against Ma-Tek and disavow any and all knowledge of how the attack may have been traced to you. In return, we demand that a private apology be given to the families of all involved in the attack, compensation be given to the families of victims, and the officer involved in this action be reprimanded, privately or publicly, and the reprimand be shown to all victims of this tragedy.

You are already ahead in technology, but never forget- superheated atoms can lay waste to even the most advanced technology. Samtonia can and will get weapons of strategic destruction to your country somehow. We will use these weapons. And we will be prepared to accept the aftermath of that attack. Because we feel cornered. We feel our national sovereignty is threatened. And even a cornered dog can still kill an attacking wolf. At the very least, we can and will kill enough of your citizens or destroy enough of your livelihood to exact our revenge.

Simply judge- is that risk great enough to swallow your pride and apologize to the people that you have wronged? Or are you willing to take the chance and face a ruined country and possibly world?

Samtonian Council of Thirteen

+++++++++++++

"The officer in question is above reproach and no responsibility can be accorded to the commander of the 1 Naval Battlegroup for giving the order to fire on military targets.

"Nor can the ASI in question be reprimanded, as utterly uncorruptable data shows clearly that she is not lying. And were she able to corrupt and alter the data in the first place, she would not do so; for she was created by honourable hands, and her history is full of nothing but honourable actions. In short, her word is far more valuable to us than that of your scientists.

"My own advisors inform me that your information is partly accurate. It is indeed true that the effective area for a US missile of the specifications deployed is twenty-five metres, and not the stated ten. Yet security matters take precedence over truth at times; that was one of them. Few understand the working of our weapons; the fewer, the better.

"I would dearly love to be able to resolve this matter to the benefit of all involved. The Commonality will gladly offer aid to the victims of your tragedy, but not as an apology, for we cannot and will not admit to what we have not done; it is not in our power to lie, even for what might appear to be a good cause, for do not Humans rightly say that the path to Hell is paved with good intentions?

"As to your threats which are stated not to be threats and yet which clearly are; do not seek to threaten us with weapons that have already been deployed against us with little success. Nenyans do not succumb to illness, and nor do Quendi; thus you would kill only Humans, and the entire world would fall upon you in anger. We would not need to lift a finger; and doubtless biological agents could be defeated with technology which either we or our allies possess. Nor would your chemical agents be of any use to you, were you seeking to gain utter victory; for again, Quendi and Nenyans are built differently, and many of your weapons are thus useless against fully a twentieth of our population. Nor would they kill those of us who are not on this Earth, but are beyond; and they would return in anguish and likely in a fit of rage, and would reign such power down upon those who had committed such a crime that not the merest microbe would fail to wither beneath their force.

"And should you strive to use nuclear arms against us, you will fail. Radioactive materials may not pass into the Commonality, and the GUARDIAN defence grid has already fended off one large-scale nuclear assault; I see not why it should fail before another. Yet a nuclear attack would be a direct declaration of war; and such a war of revenge could only end with your unconditional surrender or utter defeat. And again, our allies and likely those who were not would rally to our side, and the tide that would sweep upon your lands would doubtless, by its time of issuing forth back to its source, leave naught but anguish and sorrow and the seeds of gloom and great anger.

"Yet these are not threats; nay, they are promises of the doom which you think to call down upon yourselves.

"I foretell this: you will not have your apology today, or tomorrow, or any day to come. Nor will you have victory, should you wage war against us; and should war come to pass, your sons and daughters for a hundred generations shall curse the names of all the current Council of Thirteen; and no respite from oppression shall your people know for all those long years: for their sins will hunt them as a shadow, and the night to come will be darker than any moment that had come unto Samtonia before.

"Take my counsel: yield, accept our offer of aid; your families will receive their aid regardless, for we are sorrowful of their loss and have resources to spare them easily; and nothing shall you lose by yielding to what is just: and who knows what might be gained."

~ High King the High Lord Semir-randil

[OOC: Encrypted blah blah blah.]

As he briefly poked his slender form round the corner, releasing a burst from his semi-automatic before retreating, Corporal Mathesby wondered if the Dregruk forces would ever run out of men. His Regiment had been fighting in and amongst the buildings for the last five days, and for every man they killed, it seemed the Dregruk army sent two or three back at them. No matter what advantage the Falasturians might have, it was all worth nothing against the Dregruk army. At least they had the training for urban warfare, and undoubtedly that fact had saved many lives, but as each and every Falasturian soldier sat with his comrades, safely behind the lines after having been relieved by other units, there was rarely any other topic of conversation than the sheer overwhelming numeric superiority the enemy had, and how neither army could gain nor lose much ground in the face of the other.

Seeing the black uniform of a Dregruk soldier appearing from a doorway a little way down the street, Mathesby's heart leapt once more, as he quickly reacted, turning his gun to the danger and releasing a burst. Giving a satisfied exhalation as the black form slumped onto the wall behind him and collapsed, Mathesby waved to a couple of Privates, ran across the road to an alley, and stopped for a rest. No sooner had they stopped, however, than a metallic clunk resonated down the hallway. Ordinarily the sound would have meant nothing to Mathesby, and the others in his Regiment, but by now the soldiers in the unit were keenly aware of what it meant.Scrambling his balance back onto his feet, Mathesby threw himself round the corner, yelling "GRENADE!" at the top of his voice. No sooner had he disappeared back into the open roadway than an explosion sounded in the alley, accompanied by a tremor enough to take Mathesby from his precarious off-balance position and throw him onto his face on the pavement. Suddenly it was as if all Hell broke lose. Dregruk soldiers appeared from their shelters, pouring bullets into the small, exposed group. The Falasturians gave back a feeble reply, their machine-gunner managing to drop one enemy before collapsing, his chest pierced several times. Just as the group seemed overwhelmed, scrambling back round into the alleyway, and attempting to fend off two Dregruk soldiers now defending the alley, another squad of Falasturians appeared from the corner from which Mathesby had appeared not a minute before, unleashing their fury into the enemy. A smoke grenade sailed down the street, almost instantaneously sprouting white smoke which would soon envelop a section of the street in a haze thick enough to render any man in it virtually blind. As its contents sprayed out, Mathesby looked round the corner in time to see a Dregruk officer drop from a bullet fired by a sniper, several hundred metres away. Good to know there's people supporting me.

The fight went on. It seemed like it would never end.

Encryption ZX-45.b
Standard encryption methods apply
To: High King Semir-randil I

Congratulations. You’ve chosen to believe a “sentient” AI, programmed by you and in your computers, could convince the world that the missiles weren’t fired by your country to hit the hospital. That’s fine with us. We didn’t think your government would be composed of senile old fools, but I guess we underestimated the intelligence levels of you and your advisors.

No matter. We’ll accept the restitution, as those families of the victims are still harangued daily by their grief. But bad move not to apologize, even in the most secretive of messages. We’ve decided that that ambassador isn’t wanted in Samtonia after all. If you want to tell us something, send it back by courier or electronic message or call a meeting in a neutral country. But until we get some type of response that goes against your idiotic bigotry against Samtonia, we refuse to deal with you.

I and the rest of the council aren’t even going to bother responding to your insane ramblings and idiotic threats. We’re quite sure that if even one WMD were to somehow detonate in your country, public opinion would quickly sour to your current administration. Think we couldn’t see the “faithful opposition” tearing at the chains to criticize you? A nuclear detonation would certainly give your citizens reason to listen to them.

As such, I am authorized to inform you that by unanimous voting of the Council of Thirteen, the Council of Samtonian Chiefs of Staff, and the Samtonian Regional Parliament, we now declare that any attacks, be they to stun or kill, against Samtonia will be viewed as a blatant attack against the sovereignty of our nation and will be responded to as we see fit.

Place your trust in MAD and anti-missile defense shields. Because we’ve got something your entire nation seems to be sorely lacking, viewing by its anachronistic and predictable foreign policy- we’ve got innovation. And with it, we can and will show you Samtonia’s true spirit.

So be warned. Be wary. And I suggest you focus on another nation. Samtonia and her allies are ready for you. Ready and waiting.

Samtonian Council of Thirteen

OOC- And please don't post my whole replys. SNIPS would do just as well and not take up so much space. Thanks!

Lord Geartrix reviewed his files on the conflict so far. He was considering becoming involved. Heh. He opened up his control panel.

Encrypted message to Dregruk:
I am reviewed this conflict so far and may be willing to join your side. Please reply to this offer.

Lord Geartrix of Mechanixia.

He then sent another message:
Encrypted message to Samtonia:
I am reviewed this conflict so far and may be willing to join your side. Please reply to this offer.

Lord Geartrix of Mechanixia.





This was going to be interesting. Yesss...

The 2nd Vastivan fleet remained ported in Samtonia.

No one commented much on the freighters that wandered in and out. Or the few C-71s flying back and forth.

Mostly, things were... calm.

>snip<

"Your implication that Sarah ISASIO is not a sentient being is offensive. She is a Citizen of the Commonality, with all rights, priveliges, and obligations thereof.

"Further, your lack of understanding is astonishing. We have no 'opposition', in the classical political sense of the word. One Commonality; one Government; one People. There are no political parties in the Commonality; only individuals joined together in harmonious discourse. Yet you are correct; there is some opposition to the policies of the Executive Council; yet it would not be to your benefit were that opposition brought to the fore. For they are warhawks; and they would utterly destroy Samtonia in response to any strike. I, on the other hand, and the rest of the current leadership, would do no such thing unless no other choice remained.

"I suspect you have misunderstood your position. Therefore, we will make it abundantly clear.

"We have grown tired of empty threats and useless bickering. You have allies? Good for you. Go play with them, little one, for we tire of your childish games.

"I regret to inform you that the Imperial House has denied our request for funding to distribute aid to Samtonia. Therefore, no funds will be given to the families of those who died in the tragic power cut that affected the hospital in question. Nor will doctors be allowed to enter Samtonia. The People have Spoken.

"Samtonian citizens are henceforth eternally barred from entrance to the Commonality and banned from all access to any Commonality asset. Any Samtonians attempting to enter the Commonality will be considered to be terrorists, and will be deported following fair trial. Second offenders will be summarily executed on sight. The unmarked bodies will be returned to Samtonia, of course.

"Further threatening behaviour will be considered a prelude to active, overt aggression, and will be dealt with as such. Any effort to dislodge the Tyelca Tuo class warship in international airspace near Samtonia will be viewed as an act of war, and responded to accordingly. The use of nuclear weapons against any ICEL asset will be considered an act of attempted genocide, and will be responded to with the full force of the armed forces. The use of biological or chemical weapons will be responded to in a similar manner.

"That will be all, for now, child. Behave, and we shall not be required to discipline thee."

~ High Lord Commodore Ax-randiri Rihad

The fighting in Pavlita had really kicked off now, artillery strikes were occurring near continuously with the troops most likely in the eastern side of town, slowly pushing forward, the artillery striking presumably in areas where Dregruk forces had yet to engage, and the rattle of automatic fire could be heard in the freak moments of silence. Clouds hung over the city, smoke from buildings that would only be put out when there was nothing left to burn & dust from collapsing buildings. Colonel Plisken remembered his time in restoring order in the cities of home, panic all over the place & every single Designated Zone community in every major city spilling forth its contents of resident Non-Citizens. Urban fighting was not something to relish, especially when it involved an opposition dug at every street corner. Every crumpled building concealing a machine gun or a lone gunmen, worse though were the traps because when they went off there was no one to retaliate against.

“The fighting in the city has reached the stage we’ve been waiting for, if we wait any longer then we’ll likely find ourselves swamped by one side or another & that means we won’t be able to manoeuvre. We’re going to try & cut along the back of Pavlita, heading north” -at this point he altered the digital display showing the proposed route- “hopefully we’re going to skip along the edge of the fighting so we won’t stick out too much however there’s always the chance that a major advance will occur & we’ll find ourselves in the thick of things. Now should that happen we stick with Falsturian forces because we need them to hold the line long enough for our escape to happen, so if you see a target of opportunity take it because they’re going to need all the help they can get.”

They took all the gear they could, fortunately the problems Plisken had feared did not occur for the men were too keen for their first proper action to be of any mind of for a few minor matters, and left the house in a presentable condition but made sure that inquisitive visitors were left with something to greet them, the greeting being in the form of networked fragmentation explosives -a homemade variation of claymores. The vehicles were similarly castrated, no sense in leaving something for anyone & even if they were forced back this wasn’t a good place to make a last stand, it was far too risky to be driving anything at the Forward Edge of the Battlefield.

* * *
Their initial direction took them as close to Pavlita as they felt necessary to appear to be in support of Pavlita’s defence, assuming they weren’t questioned by anyone with more information than they had. Sods law combined with Murphy’s Law of Soldiering really was a crippling part of military operations, no sooner had they decided that it was time to angle away from Pavlita than a Falstur patrol was spotted, had they been made though.

Another explosion sounded, sending a great plume of smoke up into the air as part of a building was blown away in the fighting. Lieutenant McLane barely noticed it, from his seat in the front passengers' seat of his Humvee around a quarter of a mile out of Pavlita. It seemed nothing happened except the constant rumblings of urban warfare, sounding in the distance. Although his station was to stop unauthorised personnel entering the area of the fighting, there were far more soldiers walking around inside the perimeter than ever came anywhere near his base. McLane's attention was miles away. More gunfire burst in the distance, followed by a squadron of fighters flying low overhead, passing over the city for a precise aerial strike. Resting his head on the headrest, McLane allowed his eyes to close as he slowly drifted off into a quick nap.

"Sir! Vehicles approaching Sir!"

McLane gave a groan as he forced his weary eyelids open again, and turned to look behind and up at the machine-gunner who had called out the warning.

"How far? How many?"

"A few vehicles, Sir! All 4 by 4s it seems. About 500 metres away. They seem to be done over in camouflaged colours, look kind of official."

Turning his head, he spotted the vehicles, but without his binoculars at his eyes, he couldn't make out the detail his gunner could. Thinking for a few seconds, he turned to the driver beside him and and started reeling off orders.

"OK Private Jackson, take us towards those cars. Lance-Corporal Valletta, radio the cars behind us, tell them we are moving to intercept a formation. Then radio the Captain and tell him the same, as well as our position. Guys, make sure your guns are loaded incase the worst happens, and Private O'Carroll, you are to open fire if I give you the word, and not before. Looks like we're actually going to get something to do."

The line of Humvees, transport lorries and army Land Rovers turned from its course, heading down a track which would cut their distance rapidly, cutting across some field which seperated the two groups of vehicles. In only seconds, the army patrol was right on the tail of the unidentified vehicles. Flicking the switch on the side of his helmet, tuning his microphone in to the frequency of the onboard loadspeakers, McLane breathed a deep breath, before announcing sharply,

"Unidentified vehicles, you are in a restricted area. You will pull over and submit to a authorisation check immediately."

OOC: Sorry for the long delay between my posts, everyone. Especially sorry to anyone who's posts I've forgotten to reply to. Lot of stuff happening IRL at the moment.

IC:

--Coast of Crealir--

Missiles rained down on the fleet, a few managing to evade the heavy fire from the H.A.A.C.s on the ships.

All around, vessels were pounded by the missiles, sending plumes of flame and metal outward.

"Jesus..." muttered one of the pilots over the radio, when he saw the flagship getting hit on the side by one of the enemy missiles.

"Keep your eyes on the enemy, morons! We're up here to stop stuff like that sinking the fleet!"

"We've got hostiles all around in front of us. Don't fly off on your own, cover your ass and happy hunting!"

--Pavlita--

The Falasturians had the advantage from the start of being in familiar terrain. Ergo, the first move of the Dregruk invaders was to destroy the areas where most of the fighting would take place. Hence the bombardments.

The black uniforms of the invaders also helped in a situation such as this. A seasoned soldier could lie down on some rubble and appear like a part of it. If he was smart.

Which Private Jeff Carnegie most certainly was.

Cityfights such as this were solid gold as far as snipers like himself were concerned. A carefully selected position could allow perfect LOS to, say, an officer, or a small group of scouts...

If years of training hadn't taught him not to, he would have smiled. This new spot he'd found in a half wrecked office gave him an ideal vantage point, allowing him to take out anyone in the camp below.

Naturally, he selected an officer. He centered the crosshairs of his scope on the forehead of the poor sod, tightened his finger around the trigger..

His rifle made its usual silenced *PHUT*.

The sudden burst of speed the patrol put on & the loudspeaker confirmed that they’d been made. Turning his vehicle around to meet the patrol he ordered the other vehicles to continue on a bit & halt, “Hold it together these are the guys we’re pretending to be, now let me handle this.” Kicking the door open and standing himself up in the opening, bold as brass with beret worn proudly, “Now who in the hell do you think you are, boy? This ain’t no time for smoke & wind over deployments, I‘ve already had some damn fool bitch his heart out at me because we weren‘t part of his unit, see we’ve been cut off from our own unit & then we learned they got cut to pieces, so we’ve fallen back here for a chance to kick in some teeth, if you know what I mean.”

Inside the Colonel’s vehicle they waited with anticipation, they couldn’t be ready because to do so would invite suspicion & so they exchanged glances occasionally.
“The Old Man can really spin a good yarn can’t he? I didn’t even know he could pull an accent like that, you’ld think he’d just been pulled straight from the ground here.”

The Lieutenant listened with some incredulity, who the hell was this guy? He was more local than his own men were & they’d been born sucking in Pavlita’s own unique lifestyle but this new guy....
As the Lieutenant listened O’ Carroll kept a bead on the apparent commander, he was a funny one for sure but such thoughts were pushed back as the commander dropped off his 4 by 4 & started walking forward, “That’s close enough pal, lets see some ID & what unit did you say you’re with?” the Lieutenant responded quickly before any of his men got the idea to use their initiative creatively.

"Well now I guess we don’t entirely trust you either, we’re from a local defence group. If you catch my drift. Now as for ID, lets see what we’ve got here."As he spoke he rummaged around quickly but plainly in view of the kid on the ‘60.

McLane took the papers from the Colonel, strutinising them to the maximum. Something was not quite right about this guy. He claimed his unit had been destroyed, yet he was driving straight into a scene of vicious street-to-street fighting, rather than reporting to a senior officer. And something about him.....Still, his papers were correct and up-to-date. There were no signs of forgery, either. Even the number plates on the Colonel's vehicles were official plates, as far as he could see from his position between the two convoys. As rank inferior to the man, and with his own Colonel engaged in the hubbub of the city and most likely unable to come to even the hands, there was little he could do to clarify the authentication of this man.

"Alright, your papers check out. You're clear to go on ahead. But be careful. That place is a nightmare. I was in it myself before my unit was pulled off the line. Artillery, snipers, enemy soldiers, air strikes, it's chaos. If you want to survive, you'll probably want to find yourself a Company that's making progress, and attach yourself to it. Else you might find that your soul is meeting your mens' pretty quickly...."

Saluting the Colonel, he waited for his adversary to move first, just in case the man made any wrong moves. Watching the 4x4 pull a tight turn in front of him to head back to the front of the line of vehicles, McLane finally admitted that he could find nothing more than gut feeling wrong with the 'Colonel', and retired to his Humvee.

OOC: Continuing from Dregruk's last post.

IC: Finishing his makeshift meal, Lieutenant Smith callously dropped his standard issue plate at his feet, along with its cutlery. It was a new retractable job from the Army main HQ, designed to fold in and store cutlery to use up as little space as possible. But no amount of nicities could make war any better. He had had enough. Stuck in a cursed city with an ever-diminishing platoon, and an enemy that was near impossible to beat, he could barely find his motivation. He just wanted out.

The rest of the platoon, now 17 strong, looked at Smith's gesture, each wondering if they themselves would lose their personal restraint over their feelings towards the conflict that they were in. Two men approached the officer, hoping to talk him into a better attitude, but after a fortnight in the city, and a month in the war, they knew it was pointless. Barely anyone with all their marbles liked being on the front line, watching your friends and comrades drop like flies around you. The saying "War is hell" had never been so true. At least they weren't on the front line at the moment. Huddled around a fire of wooden debris and timber as evening set in, they were on an off-period, not needing to rejoin the battle for another three hours or so. Smith strode slowly, mundanely, towards the wall nearest him - the side wall of a desolate terrace building which once probably teemed with life, but now was dead to the world. Resting himself against the wall, Smith tipped his head back, staring forlornly at the sky. Then, his legs loosening under him, he slowly lowered down until he was seated on the ground. It wasn't until his head slumped forward, and his body tipped until it was almost bent double that the men of the platoon realised he was dead. The platoon running to him, a gaping hole in his left temple presented itself when he was pushed back to the wall, the men of the platoon writhing in disgust or cursing. Soldiers began desperately looking around for where the bullet had come from, but with no sound either, it became apparent almost immediately that Smith was the latest Sniper victim. Immediately, Sergeant Havensas began to assert his authority. Ordering a man to report to the Company Captain, he tried to get the platoon into shape, the fact that he was now commanding the group suddenly hitting home. Ordering men to different areas to get out of sight of the sniper, it was only seconds before Havensas himself dropped to the ground, another telling hole adorning his skull. Struggling to get to grips with what had happened, the men simply ran for their lives, heading in the direction of their Captain, who was safely out of the line of sight of the sniper.

Despite the Falasturians' valiant efforts, helped by the forces of their allies, the war seemed to be further and further lost. The Dregruk invasion seemed unstoppable; their resources unimaginable. As more of the Crealirian coast was captured, the Dregruk navy gained more and more landing sites for reinforcements. Diverting virtually several more units on Crealir to the resistance, still it was not enough. Fighting a force now around 300,000 strong with only 200,000 men of their own, the fight seemed lost. Cursed by the sparsity of the Empire, the Falasturian army was forced to make do with only half the units it had on Crealir, as others were shipped off to fight the invasion envelopping several nearby Imperial island territories. With many other units frozen in place from fear of a 3rd invasion, the forces on Crealir were just about the only ones capable of fighting back, and so the devastation went on.

OOC: This is how Crealir now looks, in terms of occupied territory....

http://www.2and2.net/Uploads/Images/crealir-2.JPG

The medevac dropships flitted in and out of the warzone under a flag of neutrality - and under a flag more likely to secure their safetly: the Three Star Sigil. With an ICEL battle squadron sitting in orbit above, attacking a medical vessel was probably out of the question.

Yet stranger things have been known to happen in war.

The dropships fall out of the sky with low, thrumming rushes of air, unheard until almost on top of the landing site chosen; the landing sites are always near concentrations of fighting, almost always within mere minutes of the beginning of a battle or the resumption of combat after a lull: clearly the fighting is being tracked somehow. The persons issuing forth from the hatches move swiftly, soldiers filtering out to cover the area with odd-looking wand-like objects which are clearly weapons. Several of the soldiers carry clearly lethal weapons mounted on their wrists, and, although the exact function of these isn't immediately clear, the way that they hold their arms strongly implies that they are quite obviously weapons.

The soldiers take no action beyond guarding the medical staff, who, with crisp efficiency, carry wounded soldiers back to the dropships. The dropships become a common sight to some platoons; falling out of the sky with loudhailers blearing, warning those in the area that attacks will be responded to with deadly force if necessary - informing of the mission of mercy.

Several medics are shot on sight, in the first few missions - fortunately none lethally; eventually word gets out, and the Seven Star Brigade - the name for the medical corps - soon finds favour amongst the men on the ground.

But the way in which the dropships move so rapidly and the troops conduct themselves displays a startling efficiency; a rapidity of movement is clearly central to the doctrine of the Crown Guard of ICEL.

The injured are treated in military hospitals back in the Commonality (with extensive details sent to their governments where possible, to insure that their families can be properly informed of their safety) - or on board the dropships at need - and are then, once fully well again (at least physically), are sent back to their respective nations.

[OOC: Naturally, editing can be done if anyone disagrees with anything above. But this is really meant to be just a bit of background stuff related to those dropships the Vanguard brought in earlier - but, of course, if anyone wants one of these involved in their little segment of the war directly, I'm more than happy to go along with it.]

Despite the fact that the basecamp wasn't spotted yet, Dregruk forces went further into Falastur and they had no choice but to fall back before they would get caught. All of the Nanakan forces (except for the 13 lost somewhere in the forest) pulled out and fell back to unocupied territory.

"This is Major Anderson," he said over an encoded transmission to his Falasturian allies. "The Nanakan force is on the move before we get spotted by enemy. We need a safe city to fall back to until we are ready to fight again. If we are spotted, we may need help."

"*kzzt*Sir, this is Alpha 1 leader. We have several planes entering the air from enemy carriers. Permission to engage is requested, over*kzzt*"
"This is Admiral Alexander. Permission granted."
And so the air battle began. Seconds later, Each of the 150 tomcats reddied and fired 1 of their Pheonix AA missles (these are the world's best) at the enemy. 150 Pheonix Missles lit up the night sky, sailing into the packs of enemy planes. All over the comm chatter, Fox 1's and Fox 2's could be heard, as the thunderous roar of the missles quaked to the enemy planes.
"*kzzt*This is Alpha 1. All planes move in at mach 1.88, then slow in and take evasive action to the planes and ships; break off into pairs and keep each other alive! Happy hunting!*kzzt*"
While all this was happening, the AOE supply ships reloaded their Ticonderoga VLS CG's with new TASM and Harpoon missles, readying for another devastating blow.
Maeanwhile, the Brute ram-ships drew nearer.
"Logistics, NOW!" The Admiral screamed.
"Sir, 26 Ram ships are charging us. From our intel, they appear to have the front end filled with explosives, and will punch rather large holes in our ships if we're hit."
"Heh, lovely. Get The Ticonderoga's online. Tell them to shoot-off torpedos when the ships get in range (yes, Ticonderoga's have 2 above water Mk-48 torpedo tubes), and have the Seawolf's and Los Angeles subs do some hunting."
"Yessir!" The aide left in a hurry.
As the subs returned, they were given new orders. They were to break off into pairs, one Seawolf, one Los Angeles, and go hunting for the brute ram-ships, and create a veritable wall of torpedos to keep any of the ships from getting anywhere close to the prized surface ships.
"Sounds like fun." Said Captain Nakurumi, of Seawolf 1. "Let's lock and load boys, you know the drill. All subs turn on active sonar. Go to full alert. Let's do what we're meant to do: Sink surface bastards!"
And on that note, the subs went hunting. (I'll let dreg rp the first bit of this out, since the ram ships are still a ways out.)

"That's it! I've had ENOUGH of this bullshit!" The Admiral said. "Falastur is being pressed into, and we're occupied here killing off Dregruk's navy! Iwant them dead, now!"
"How do you propose it, sir?"
"We're going to create some chaos for Dregruk's army. Tell me, ensign, what is the quickest way to end a war?"
"I don't know sir."
"You cut off the head; the chain of command. I want precision TLAM (anti-ground Ticonderoga launched cruise missles) strikes done on all well established enemy bases on Falastur."
"It shall be done."
'Heh,' the Admiral thought to himslef. 'Maybe this'll ease up the war on land.' He smiled a devious smile. 'Here we go.'
10 minutes later, 50 TLAM missles sailed off of Ticonderoga's, going directly north at first, avoiding the enemy fleet entirely, but then turned due west, and went to the heart of the problem: the enemy commanders on land.
OOC: Dregruk, you choose to which bases they go (please make them well established one's, preferably 5-10 missles per base, or even at large battle sites.) Also, don't think that funky terrain (even mountains) will stop these missles; they scan the terrain, and move up or around it, and make precision strikes for hundreds of miles.

Colonel Carthage surveyed the city of Pavlita with an odd look upon his face. It wasn't the face of a man who'd led a successful attack into enemy territory; it wasn't the face of a man who'd been fighting for a city he now controlled... it was much akin to the face of an executioner.

"Lieutenant... how many people are there still in this city?"

"We had the whole city searched and found around 100 elderly, 70 wounded and around 20 people who simply refuse to leave their homes, sir."

"Lieutenant, this city will become a symbol of rebellion and strong resistance to our occupation of this area unless drastic action is taken. I want it to be purged."

The Lieutenant stared at his CO, his jaw threatening to bounce off the concrete on the pavement.

"S... sir?"

"You heard me, Lieutenant. I want this entire city to be blasted or burned. Have teams sent around to make sure that nothing and no-one is left."

"Sir, this is murder! These people are non-combatants, we can't simply kill them all!"

"Lieutenant, you will follow these orders unless you want to end up like them. Be glad I haven't ordered them to be used for bayonet practice. This is an act of mercy."

--Forward camps Breaker, Snik, Skippy, Dack and Chutney--

While these camps were all different in looks and operation, they were all essentially the same. Each one was a hive of activity as troops came in to get more ammo, get some sleep, regroup and receive their orders.

And at each camp, the same comment was made; "Do you guys hear something?" followed by screams of "INCOMING MISSILES!!"

At each camp, missiles tore up tents, equipment and men by the dozen as they carried out their deadly purpose.

--Coast of Crealir--

"We just received word that the enemy has launched sea-to-ground missiles at our troops on Crealir!"

"Those sons of bitches!" Yelled one of the pilots in the planes, when the message was sent around on the radio.

"All fighters, we've got incoming missiles! Start trying to evade now!"

--Meanwhile, on the sea--

As the Brute Ram Ships surged forwards towards the enemy, one or two exploded. It became clear that they had become a definite target for the enemy, which cheered up the men on board if nothing else.

Since their first encounter of a Falstur patrol they’d encountered precious little armed human contact, apart from half a dozen deserters who’d attempted to hijack their column but they’d now been reduced to scarecrows, the bodies decapitated & strung up by the ankles on obligingly near trees.
Their next encounter with a patrol nearly cost them dearly, it was a Dregruk heavy scout patrol that had appeared suddenly & cut to pieces the columns lead vehicle which fortunately was not the Colonel’s vehicle, had it been the continued survival & luck they’d enjoyed would very rapidly come to an end, the rest of the column had scattered to the next stopping point they’d agreed upon. Every man in the column knew the next twenty-five kilometres of their trip but after that only the Colonel & his Second knew the final destination, what only the Colonel knew was that their destination was now hopelessly lost behind enemy lines that were advancing so quickly even news they gathered from lone individuals each day was out-dated by hours, a difference that had now cost them four men.

The Colonel talked it over with his Second, Loveda was not an option & if they didn’t leave Yerente properly they’d never be leaving the cursed place. Midland seemed a good place to make for initially, then perhaps moving on deeper towards the coast & seek refuge in some hideaway up in North Tevlar. It seemed a safe enough option till they could work themselves off Crealir properly.

Communications Relay Ship - North Atlantic
When the required period expired for an E.G. team to be officially declared MIA a priority message was dispatched, it simply read “E.G. unresponsive BREAK Suspected activity detected within OS BREAK E.G. declared MIA at this time BREAK Recommend investigation at tertiary stage & plus”
It turned a few heads at SO12, “This isn’t the first time we’ve had a team declared MIA but it’s never happened in these sort of circumstances, I have to agree with recommendation that we begin some enquiries towards some silent partners in nations nearby and also prepare an investigation team to find the circumstances & current location of the Falstur E.G. but beyond that I believe we should remain unresponsive.” The consultant had delivered his opinion to a speaker phone, whomever was on the line made no sound or perhaps a mute feature was being employed, the line simply terminated once he’d finished speaking & the woman was left unsure as to what would happen now but certain that it would no longer involver her services.

{-and she watched, sickened by the violence. She listened, too, in a limited way; many communications were encrypted, and these took some days to decrypt - although some would never be decrypted. Not in the lifetime of any mere mortal, at any rate; by then, no-one would care, so no effort was being made on the more sophisticated encryption routines.

Most the information was out-of-date by the time it was decrypted, giving merely already-known information on troop movements and occasionally other general mission data. But it provided her with an interesting view into the hearts and minds of those involved.

Yet she had also been assigned to pay special attention to the cities; currently, she was utilizing a cislunar observation post to observe Pavlita-

There. Her heart, simulation as it was, leapt into her digital throat and she squawked. It wasn't an audible sound: it was a sound that permeated Commonality C-Space (known to organics as the MESH), and drew the startled attention of Tatya. She waved Tatya away, and concentrated harder.

There, most definitely. A crowd - albeit small - near some troops. It looked vaguely as though the troops were gathering them, although it was very hard to tell amidst the devastation of the city; she made a mental note to keep a Segment of the her Self watching via this observation post, and then rushed through the MESH towards the MISAT network proper...

...and flowed back to Nenya to report her suspicions-}

* * *

High Security Conference Room Alpha; Imperial Palace, Nenya, Ma-Nenya, Iluvauromen; Iluvauromeni Commonality of Everlasting Light

Rialla nodded in agreement swiftly, before Ax-randiri had even finished speaking. "It's a good idea. I'm sure Dregruk will buy it; very few states have any idea how closely we can watch them, if we bring the resources to bear; I don't think anyone knows exactly how sensitive the cislunar observation posts are, either. Nor the fact that they are, in fact, still very limited, which is also all the more useful."

Semir was not around; he had vanished the night before, leaving just a note on Rialla's bedstand. The note had been cryptic, mentioning a job to do to improve relations, but that it wasn't official business; Rialla was a little worried that Semir had gone gallavanting off on some dangerous business better assigned to someone...

...someone who wasn't him, she realized. Well, that was selfish. She moved on mentally, forcing the change; although she could still feel him, in that subliminal way that Nenyans always do with those close to them, no matter the distance - unless death breaks the bond.

But she knew Semir would agree: the plan was, in its own special way, quite simple. And Semir loved simple plans: there was less to go wrong. And even better; it was of the type that didn't require direct permission from the entirety of the Unified Government.

Knowing she had the support of the rest of the Executive Council already, Rialla nodded again, slowly.

"Let's do this."

* * *

The airwaves crackled suddenly with newfound life. The warships in orbit belonging to ICEL turned their antennae to face the Earth, and powered them up fully; and when they did, the effect was bound to get the attention of those the RF-frequency transmissions were fired at.

For the potency of the transmissions is exquisite; strong enough to introduce a modicum of static on just about any RF frequency, almost to the extent of making those encoded clicks that many armies depend on very difficult indeed to hear.

But the effect is brief, and only long enough to - albeit loudly - transmit a single message.

"The Commonality requires an explanation from Dregruk with regards the observed efforts towards the instigation of ethnic cleansing in captured territories in Falastur."

The message ends there, with no note of who sent the message, or who wrote it, or for which arm of the government it speaks; it is merely that single, bald sentence.

The transmission cuts; the static vanishes; but the myriad of questions posed by that single stated 'question' remain...

[OOC: To be utterly, completely, fully clear. The satelite observation - carried out by the sentient AI, Sarah, who's thoughts are always displayed in the

{-format here shown-}

happened upon a group of civilians with armed men nearby. She suspects something bad is about to happen, possibly simply due to paranoia. The styling of the war no doubt also leads her to this decision - the shelling of civilian targets by Dregruk, particuarly. She passes her suspicions on to the Executive Council, which decides to issue the above statement.

The real question for everybody involved (and everybody involved certainly heard that message) is: Is ICEL bluffing, counting on the knowledge that it has a multitude of eyes in the sky, or does it know something nobody else does?]

(Dreg, I hope you don't mind me posting loses on your side, but I really can't afford to lose that many ships (23 ram-ships=23ships out of commision, and my whole navy is here) If you do mind, I can redo this part.)

"Oh, shit!" One sailor on deck said as he saw an approaching ram-ship with binoclears. "Still a few miles off, but even so."
A group small ships, by comparison to the large Ticonderoga's, comes barreling at the friedly formation.
"Sir, urgent intel!"
"What is it, officer?"
"Sir, there's still 23 ram ships advancing on our position!"
"What?!"
"Yessir, the subs are having a hard time finding smaller ships!"
"Evidently so! Shit. Alright, launch 10 E2-C Hawkeyes, get those ships pinpointed, then scare up some S3-B Vikings and tell them happy hunting. And for God's sake, keep those Hawkeyes WELL behind our lines."
"Yessir!"
The 10 Hawkeyes flew off from their carriers, and turned on their active long-range (over 100 NM) Surface radar.
"Holy Shit! Gimme that radio! *kzzt*This is Hawk 1, over. We have 23, repeat 23 ram-ships FAR past containment lines, over.*kzzt*"
"Understood Hawk 1, keep reporting, and relay coordinates."
"*kzzt*Yessir!*kzzt*"
The coordinates came in. 251.238.147, 251.238.578, and so on, which was staggering to find out, because the Holy Navy's ships were around coordinates 251.235.257 (Yes this is a made-up coordinate system, but look at the similarities in #'s)
"Shit."
"What do we do s-" With a gesture of his hand, the Admiral cut him off.
"Well, that's just fine. Heh-heh-heh. Alright, here's what we're gonna do: Stick with the plan, but add on to it."
"How so?"
"Well, we're gonna play they're game. Or at least pretend to. When they get close, rather than running away, we'll 'ram' them as well. This, will do 2 things. 1, it will decieve them into thinking that we're dumb, and bring us close to them, which is what we want. The second thing it will do is it will cause them to go on a final approach, which means they'll be going full speed, dead at us. 60 seconds before impact, rather than hitting them, have the Ticonderoga's make full turn and attempt to dodge them, and launch the 2 SH-60 Sea hawk's on the back of each Ticonderoga. Since the ram-ships will be so close, we'll just drop-off a few presents for them: torpedos. The ships will be FAAAR too close to dodge the torps, and going at full speed head-on to them for maximum damage on the explosive front of the ships, might I add.
Right after this was said, Ticonderoga 1 reported enemies, and 30 Vikings took off, readying for war.

--Dregruk Military Command--

"GAAAH!" Howled the radio operators, as the loud message from ICEL blasted through their amplified headphones. Several collapsed to the ground, pulling off their headphones in agony. The message was so loud that the Generals sitting at the table a few metres away could hear it.

"Ethnic cleansing...?" Muttered one of them after the message had finished. "What are they on about?"

"Have we had any reports from the Crealir invasion force regarding occupied cities?"

"No... are you suggesting that our men on Crealir are killing civilians?"

"I don't know. We need to find out, though, don't we? Demand a status report from the CO in the area. Nathan Carthage, I think. Good man. Bold leader."

--The skies above the coast of Crealir--

"Jesus, we've lost another!" Yelled a pilot, wrestling with his joystick to avoid ending up in a similar fireball to his comrade-in-arms.

"Dack, check your six!" Yelled a pilot, to another.

Dack, the most experienced pilot in the air, pulled hard on his stick, performing a tight immelman on the enemy. When behind him, he held down the trigger, perforating him with his plane's cannon.

As the misty morning began to subside, sunlight burning off the slight cover of fog that had nestled on top of the ocean, the sight revealed belied a world at war. Glimmering rays of sunlight bounced off the azure waters of the ocean, as frolicking pods of dolphins played joyfully with one another.

Captain Abel Hardy, commander of Integrated Petroleum Suppliers Transport Gage smiled as his binoculars flashed over the scene. En-route to Crealir, it was the IPST’s contracted job to deliver supplies and, most importantly, fuel to the invasion force. Without the efforts of supertankers, like the Gage, the forces fighting would quickly grind to a halt.

And what a pleasure it was, having a job that required little to no work. After all, Hardy was a sailor at heart and to be paid to captain a vessel through a veritable paradise, a watery park. But this park was to become the resting place of his ship.

+++++++++
”Down scope!” barked commander Joseph E. Perry. His crew, one of the best in the Samtonian Navy, was working like a fine tuned machine. One of the few skippers to get control of one of the new Delta-class attack subs, Perry and the four other captains that had gotten commands on the new class of attack subs were, in all probability, some of the best skippers in the world. At least that’s what they liked to think.

Shadowing this monstrous fuel vessel had been a piece of cake. Although there were escorts, the sound of the massive ship’s propellers churning through the water had completely shot the sonar readings of the escorts to hell. This was the reason that they had been able to approach so far under the layer, to within about 1500 meters of the side of the monstrous oil tanker.

“Bearing set at .03. Mark and shoot tubes two through eight, on my mark. Helm, prepare evasive maneuvers and emergency dive, to coincide with end of firing. Torpedo room, load tubes as such: One and two, spearfish. Three through eight, Mk.52’s. Fire on my orders.”

As the sub executed a graceful turn, the tanker and her six escorts continued, blissfully unawares of what was about to happen. This fuel was important. Without it, the armored advance in Crealir would be slowed down almost to a standstill until the next shipment could get through. And this one would most certainly not get through. Gasoline and flames have a way of ruining anyone’s day.

“On my mark. Tubes one and two, escort one. Tubes three through eight, fire a spread of fish at the tanker. And ready…..mark and shoot.”

“Tubes one and two away.”

“Mark and shoot, three through eight.”
“Tubes three through eight away.”

“Reload tubes. Helm, take us down and away. I want to start looking when we’re back at about 14 km away. Let’s go to it gentlemen.”

++++++++++
As the sub began to cavitate, her screws throwing up a wall of bubbles, eight torpedoes shot through the azure water like knives, two aimed at a luckless cruiser and the rest at the supertanker. Even one getting through would cause horrific damage. If all six got through….well, Samtonian satellites would certainly catch the ensuing explosion of that.

OOC: For my part in this, assume that TROUSRS is located on a large island, surrounded by many smaller, forested islands. This island is 535 miles WNW of Dregruk. I will be assisting Dregruk with Naval Forces only as of current.

Also, it's been a while since I've writen anything. I'm a bit rusty.

IC:

After deciding that this war was taking place too close to Trousinian Soil, top military and political heads decided that it would be in TROUSRS best intrest to end this quarl, or at least take it away from Trousinian soil.

With no possible diplomatic resolution in view, the Chief of Naval Operation officially agreed to send 3 carrier battle groups into action to push the war as far away from the homeland as possible.

Each of these groups contained two Enterprise class carriers, 3 Spruance Class Destroyers, 2 Aegis Guided Missle Destroyers, 1 Avenger class mine countermeasures vessel, 2 los angeles class submarines, and two kirov class heavy missile cruisers.

The groups were underway at 0330 Zulu this morning.

"Conn, sonar. We've deteced multiple explotions, bearings 034, 035, 036, and 037," said a Sonar operative aboard one of the Enterprise Carriers in fleet two. Other ships were probably recieving similar readings. "It's either a mishap aboard the tanker and its escorts.. or more likely, sir, it's a hostile. There are no other friendlies reported in the area today."

"Radioman," Commander Kessler, Capitain of the carrier, and Leading Officer in charge of Battle Group 2 said calmly, "Contact the SSN 983, they have a new objective."

"Aye, sir, connecting to SSN 983."
---
"Yessir?" was the reply over the radio.

"LCDR Starr, this is the CO of the TDS Bergstresser. We've detected on our sonar multiple explosions bearings 034, 035, 035, and 037 of our current location. Your new orders are to investigate the cause of the explosions and report back as soon as everything is cleared up."

"Will do, sir. SSN 983 out."
---
[Aboard TDSN Ewing (SSN 983)]

"Reduce speed to two thirds, bearing 032."

And off it went. The Los Angeles had broken off from the carrier group to investigate the cause of the explosions. The Captain of the SSN expected a mishap, possibly an engine failure of sorts, but he definately did not expect what was to come.

Bridge, IDS Vanguard, North Atlantic Ocean

The Battlegroup stood ready, still, outside the ship, she knew. She sighed heavily, glancing at the commodore; she had also read the report regarding the claim that Dregruk was possibly engaging in ethnic cleansing in Falastur - but it was also clear from the report she had read that nobody had a damned clue if that was true or not.

Clearly, to her way of thinking, the Unified Government must have been willing to press this issue further. There was clearly an interest back home; and that was no shock. With so much attention being given to this war by the media, and with constant talk of the high casualty rate and such, the People of the Commonality would surely be getting restless. War would come soon enough, she was sure - there was war already, but this war did not involve the People. Not yet. The one to come would, however.

To her mind...it was inevitable.

Still, the restraint showed thus far by both sides was in some ways admirable. Neither side had made any effort to engage any of the patrols sent out by the Squadron in orbit; fighter wings had been patrolling a five hundred mile radius around the Vanguard Battlegroup: no ships had been sighted attempting to move within 'expected firing range'. The Vanguard and all of her class were OTH engagement vessels, meaning that they could fight over the horizon; she wasn't sure if the 'enemy' - whoever that would turn out to be - possessed such abilities.

She herself held the rank of captain, even though she was the first officer here on the Vanguard. This was the flagship of the fleet, the pride and joy of the Crown Navy; this was the highest prestige position there was - and high prestige positions with high visibility missions equated to promotion. Soon enough, she knew, she would likely be given a ship - again - and then, perhaps, a Battlegroup. If she was exceedingly good at her job, anyway.

She had an idea forming, nibbling away at her consciousness; she did not know what the idea was, however. It wasn't that type of idea. It was the type that you aren't really aware of, except that it's there; the type that just seems sometimes to pop out of nowhere, when, really, you've been thinking about it all day.

She glanced at the charts again, and wondered how many would die today.

It was this which hurt the most. Here they sat, with the power of the Commonality behind them; but it was all for naught. There was no intervention, now, despite the grand words. The propaganda of Samtonia had done a job (whether it was the aim of Samtonia or not) - and many more would perish as a result. For days now the Battlegroup had been left on hot-standby, but with orders not to intervene. At all.

Simply to protect the honour of the People.

Internally, she railed against such thinking. It was wrong. Honour was less important than saving lives, surely? Surely the honour of the People would not be harmed by the protection of others? Yet further claims that weapons designed to be non-lethal - and much-vaunted as such - were in fact lethal under the wrong conditions could do incredible damage to the high moral ground upon which the Commonality based all such military incursions, few in number though they were in actuality. She sighed.

Honour, Valour, Justice. The Three Tenets, they were named. The very centre of Iluvauromeni culture; that which made the People civilized, rather than barbarous.

It was a thin armour plating of tissue paper with which to hold back the might of Nightfall.

She sighed again, suspecting that she was being too melancholy. After all, civilization wouldn't just collapse if there was no intervention in this conflict.

But somehow she imagined the voices of those who died were calling to her, begging her to avenge their deaths; needless deaths fighting a dishonourable enemy. Her very core called her to battle, a tide of hot blood flushing through her veins; there was an expression amongst her people, the Dth'gari, for such a sensation.

She still remembered when she had been but a child at school, and she had smashed Biri Tutel-Menjda in the face, breaking one of his teeth. He had called her names - he had called her a Dth'gari barbarian, specifically - and she had, quite naturally, taken exception to that; her school sergeant had taken exception to that.

He had taken her aside - for she was only eleven, and not subject to the more imposing discipline expected of those older than she yet - and spoken to her softly, reminding her of her culture and why she had reacted the way she had. For it was undoubtedly the effect of her culture - this was the way in which she was taught. That cultural influences act to limit us only; and that only those cultural influences which free us are those worth keeping. Thus the warlike nature of her kin was not an attribute worth keeping.

But he had said, "Whenever the blood runs hot in your veins, little one, recall the history you have been taught. For when the horns of war trumpet in our hearts, it is not the blood in our veins that troubles us for all our days, but the blood on our hands."

She had thought such a statement rather irrelevant back then, but now she understood the meaning far better. A war fought for passion is not a just war; a war fought for right, however, was.

She sighed again.

Sometimes, though, she mused, the difficulty was in telling one from the other.

"*kzzt*Alright, cruise speed, and stay close! It's gonna get hairy in there!*kzzt*"
The Tomcats marched in to war.
"Line up the shot.......*kzzt*FOX 1!*kzzt*"
A pheonix missle went screaming off into the night air, leaving a beautifully white contrail. A few seconds later a plane turned into a fiery ball of death, confirming his shot (note, this was the aforementioned kill by me, I'm playing it in.). A second after, a plane came in behind him, his operator hadn't noticed it until it wastoo late.
"*kzzt* Charlie 4! Check 6 check 6!*kzzt*"
"Shit!"
A plane fell in position right behind him. He pulled up as hard as he could, but it wasn't enough; the gut staye on him the whole way, unleashing his cannon killing both inhabitants instantly as the fuel ignited, sending the plane falling to its watery grave.
"Damnit! *kzzt*All planes, make full assault, we've lost a friendly!*kzzt*"
Upon hearing that, the planes pulled strong contrails into the air, and lined up shots.
"*kzzt*Fox 1!*kzzt*"
"*kzzt*Fox 3!*kzzt*"
Missles went off careening into the sky.
One man thought he could be a hero. He went straight at an enemy, and the enemy did as well. "Die you bastard! *kzzt* Fox 3!*kzzt*"
The missle missed, and their planes went carrening into each other, making a beautiful display of red and orange following their white contrails in the sky.
"Shit! *kzzt*This is Bravo 2, over. Calling in Yellow team, over!*kzzt*"
The Admiral was slightly startled. They greatly outnoumbered their opponents, this was supposed to be easy. "Repeat your last Bravo 2, over."
"*kzzt*Bravo 2, requesting yellow team, over!*kzzt*" Right after that, his plane was shot out of the sky as he shot off a missle at an enemy fighter above him.
He turned to a waiting ensign "Well, shit.... Alright, scramble yellow team."
"Yessir!"
Yellow team was an elitest fighter group. The 10 best pilots of the Holy Empire were CHOSEN to become yellows. Yellows were ace fighter pilots that specialized in close-range fighter killing. They were the best of the best, the cream of the crop. And they carried only one missle on them: the AA-11 ARCHER R-73 (see http://www.globalsecurity.org/military/world/russia/aa-11.htm), the worlds' finest close-range anti-air missle. Once lock-on is achieved, they can even be effectively fired at an enemy on your six.
"*kzzt*Right, yellow squadron requesting permission to take-off, over*kzzt*"
"This is tower to yellow, permission granted."
The 10 Yellow f-14's careened off into battle.
10 minutes later
"*kzzt*Yee-haw!*kzzt*"
"*kzzt*Alright, keep your cool, let's go in and light 'em up*kzzt*"
The 10 Yellow's screamed off their afterburners, and started picking off targets like it was a game.
"*kzzt*Yellow 2, Fox 3!*kzzt*" "*kzzt*Yellow 1, Fox 1!*kzzt*" "*kzzt*Yellow 3, Fox 2!*kzzt*" "*kzzt*Yellow 6, Fox 1!*kzzt*"
---------------------------------------------
OOC: Dregruk, please rp the brute ships that would die because of my 'ram' tactic,(in my last post) and I'll rp the Ticonderogas that die trying. Oh, and do the ram-ships die after they ram? Or what?
---------------------------------------------
"*kzzt*This is Viking 3, over*kzzt*"
"This is the Admiral, what's happening?"
"*kzzt*Ya, requesting permission to fire on Ram-ships, over.*kzzt*"
"Permission granted." He set down the phone. "Heh."
The 30 S3-B Vikings took up targets and fired like wild. First launching each of their 2 Harpoons, then their 2 MK-50 torpedos and went turning back home. (btw, this is appox. 10 min. before the brute-ships start ramage)

OOC: Samtonia, at what speed is your sub heading away from the area?

There is an OOC forum located at
http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=7565578&posted=1#post7565578
Please use it for OOC comments.

As TDSN 983 neared the sight of the explosion, the BSY-1 computers began to try to identify the ships, and by 15,500 yards, the ships, 7 of them, were identified as Dregruk Navy vessels. One was a tanker, the others escorts.

"XO, come to communications (periscope) depth," commanded the Captain. The Sub clearned it's baffles on it's rise from 500 feet.

"Come to periscope depth, aye sir," replied the XO.

"Let out the comm. wire at short stay," the captian ordered as soon as baffles were cleared, and they were at periscope depth.

The XO reported, "Floating communications wire deployed to short stay, sir."

"Very well. Get me a secure line to the Bergstresser." The capitains intent was to recieve permission to contact the allied ships, and if the need was there, call for a rescue team.

"This is the Bergstresser," buzzed the radio.

"TDS Bergstresser, this is the TDSN Ewing. Site of explosions identified as Dregruk tanker and escort group. Damage unknown at this time. Requesting permission to contact the escort group."

"Permission granted 983, proceed with caution. Keep us informed, over."
*click*

"XO, raise the periscope."

"Raising periscope, aye sir."

...(see next post)

OOC: Infiltration with the permission of Dregruk.

IC: James Hammersmith laid the papers on the table in front of the others in his covert team. The group, spread around the table, poured over the photographs, copied blueprints, maps and other assorted papers. It was exactly what they had been looking for. The perfect chance to slip a vital piece of naval technology at the forefront of Dregruk's advancement from under their noses, right back to Falastur. It would be the ultimate in embarassments to a nation so priding themselves on their honour and military victories.

Captain McGregor, commander of one of a number of covert ops groups infiltrated into Dregruk, opened a slit in the curtains, peering through the gap he created. From the view his house had, being at the top of a large slope barely in the outskirts of the city of Hetlak, he had a perfect view over the naval installation, a little over a mile away on the shoreline. Indeed, the view had been one of the of the main reasons he had picked the house when he and his team first arrived with their alibi documentation and personalities. Closing the curtains again, he turned back to Hammersmith, a smiling rapidly spreading across his face.

"It seems our plan has worked perfectly. Are you sure none of your superiors, or your colleagues, saw you when you took these pictures?"

"Certain, Sir. I took these from an alley between two buildings. I would have seen anyone who might have seen me."

"Good. And you, Lambert, you're certain that when you were copying these blueprints, no-one might have seen you, or might notice anything you changed?"

"Once entrance to the room, Sir. No windows in. Anyone who might have seen me, I would have seen myself. And I made expressly sure that I returned the blueprints exactly as I found them. No chances."

"Excellent. Then, gentlemen, we are almost ready. If the itinerary is right, the Prototype will be away on tests for the next four days, then back in port for another three days, then off to a secret location until its in production, or has been refused. Initial reports show this thing is a stunning success, especially compared to the Mark 1. We are therefore going to....relieve its burden from its owners....in five days. In the meantime, I will come up with our infiltration plans. You will be informed of the plan by couriered package, as per usual. Ricky...." He turned to Richard De Vere, the Liaison Officer of the group, "Have your handler contact our friend in the Courier company, to know that there will be some express deliveries in the next couple of days. Jones, good job getting those guns on the black market. I want them here in the next two days. Everyone else, keep up the good work, and we'll be out of here in no time....

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

5 days later, outside the Vestark Naval Installation, near Hetlak:

The group, seven strong, looked out over the installation from their position in the undergrowth, about 100 metres away from the high fences, lined with floodlights, creating an eery moat of bright light, a far more effective barrier than the fences. Placed at distances of roughly 200 metres out, sentries watched out over the floodlit grounds from their lofty positions in viewing platforms on top of towers, machine-gunners sharing the small spaces, ready to mow down any attack on the compound. Even at this time, early in the morning, the men seemed surprisingly alert....an unnatural phenomenon in the world of graveyard shifts, where too many men had fallen asleep at their posts, allowing McGregor to infiltrate numerous locations before. The vital element in this mission would be speed. If the team could get in and to their target before the alarm was raised, nothing could stop them. But they needed to be exceedingly fast.

Picking his moment, McGregor took a deep breath, and pulled out his laser pen. Holding his hand over the top of it, so that even the faint glow around the edge could not be seen, he pressed the small button on the base three times, signalling to his snipers that they were to commence firing. Even with rudimentary silencers on their weapons, McGregor did not trust the guns not to echo down the hill, so he had ordered his snipers take positions 400 metres further up the hill. Bringing his binoculars to his eyes, two men in one sentry box fell even as he turned to view the first target. One down. Only five seconds later, and the two guards in the next box along silently dropped from their posts, bullets silencing them for eternity. Two.... And exactly on cue, the guards of the final box fell back and slumped on the floor of their post. Three. Time to move. Even before the guards had reached the floor, Tanner was moving down, running almost uncontrollably down the now-unwatched slope. Throwing his legs out from under him, he allowed the west grass to slide him the last five metres into the fence, immediately setting to work on it. Removing his clippers from his pouch at his waist, Tanner moved with astonishing pace, cutting through three sides of a square around 1 metre in each direction. Just as he was finishing his work, Dalglish and Potter, the two snipers, reached McGregor and the other members of the team, having placed their rifles on their backs, drawn their sub-machine guns, and plummeted down the hill. Slipping inside through his hole, Tanner flashed the group three times with his own laser pen, signifying his successful opening of the fence. Suddenly, as one body, the remaining eight men scrambled after Tanner. In a moment of complete chaos, they hurried to be the first through the gap, before making an orderly by painstakingly slow queue. Finally, the group were through, into the blissfully dark gap between the fence and the buildings of the installation. Pausing a moment, as guard walked down the dusty road on the other side of the buildings, the group silently paced between two high brick walls, before surveying the interior of the compound. It was exactly as described by Hammersmith, one of the two members of the team who had managed to procure jobs in the facility, and the only member of the team yet to join the rest of the group.

"Jones, Lauderdale, Simon, you are to go to that building there..." McGregor indicated with the barrel of his silencer-bearing revolver the location of Hammersmith's job in the facility. "...to relieve Hammersmith of his work. Kill anyone who gets in your way, but be quiet. Give this to Hammersmith when you get to him. He's in the 2nd room on the right, 1st floor up. He's waiting for you. Do it quietly. We don't want anyone coming across us until the boat's all fired up and away. The rest of us, we're going across this road, one at a time. Then we go down between the buildings, right, and into the main port. We'll have to kill some guards, but we can do that silently from a distance while Hammersmith's escort return. Then it's straight out, along the third jetty. You can't miss the boat, you've all seen the pictures. There are also a number of patrol craft docked up. We're going to capture two, destroy the others with limpet mines. You all know which boats you're assigned to, and you all know the drill, seeing as you all read my instructions. Now let's go..."

As the team sent for Hammersmith edged around several buildings to their destination, McGregor sent out his section one by one, across the small road, and to their destination. Everything was proceeding perfectly. McGregor and his section reached their waypoint, around 10 metres from the guard post into the docks, perfectly on cue, and their silenced pistols took down the guards without problem. Then, as Hammersmith and his three escorts skidded to a halt behind them and the group prepared to make for the boats, the unthinkable happened. A shout came from the other side of the installation. All ten in the group froze. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Petty Officer McKenna dared whisper,

"Sir...what's going on? What do we do?"

"They must have found their dead compatriots, in the building or the sentry towers. Certainly they haven't seen us, else they would have shouted earlier. Either way, our job just got a lot harder. Guys, draw your heavy guns. Looks like we're going to have to shoot our way out. Forget the limpet mining. Drop the mines into the sea when we get to the docks. We're going to have to run for the boats, hopefully they won't see us until we're on the jetties."

Drawing rifles and sub-machine guns previously slung over their shoulders or hidden in their black suits, the group paused a second in preparation, then dashed across out from their position between two metal huts, down the road and into the dockyards. Shouts followed them, but thankfully the first burst of gunfire didn't sound until they had almost reached the boats.....

Communications Relay Ship - North Atlantic
Confirmation to continue trying to establish contact with the first team was received within a few hours of the original recommendation having been transmitted, the orders also detailed the creation of a secondary communications line for unspecified reasons. It could of been a backup line of communication however the likelihood of a redundancy being needed for a team that was out of contact were remote, which meant another team was going to deploy & relatively soon.

* * *
They been moving primarily at night, the risk was still high but at least they didn’t have to see the exhaustion in each others faces, they’d been hyped in to believing that genetic selection, conducted in a simple process borrowed from plant breeding, would enable them to go further for longer but what they’d not realised, neither had their commanders, that the ability was there but that it required continual exertion to achieve.
It would be nightfall in a few hours, then they would move on & hopefully avoid trouble from the aircraft that seemed to be constantly prowling at the most inopportune times and it wasn’t just Dregruk forces they had to be alert for but also the forces of the nation they’d come to know as their own for the last year or so. They’d increased their capabilities somewhat by looting equipment, no appropriating fitted better with their image of being soldiers, from whomever they came across. In their possession they had a few expendable anti-vehicular launchers as well as a single MANPAD, at least if contact was forced upon them they’d make a brief mark but they all knew that frontal combat was not in their remit.

Frontal contact was best left to those whose who did not have what it took to undertake selection for a higher purpose.

Colonel Plisken was deeply concerned now, he was beginning to have doubts about his Second a prospect which did not fill him with all the surprise he would of expected upon discovering that his subordinate, a close friend & confidant, was working against him in small but significant ways. After all it was Cornelius who’d reported no communication with higher command but when the suggestion to attempt contact again had been broached in private the man had been vehemently against the idea.
It was crazy to try & work it out in his mind but if he tried to reason it out with anyone he risked alienating the people he relied upon, it wasn’t exactly a concealed fact that beyond the eyes of authority & outside of jurisdiction the laws, guidelines & regulatory powers that were supposed to keep everyone under control just didn’t apply.
Extra-judicial execution had never been ruled out in the extreme of a situation, so he’d just have to silence his doubts until he could broach the topic without concern for insurrection.

--Coast of Crealir--

The Ramships' built-in engine amplifier made the usual hideous screech as they tore in for the kill. One by one, the Brutes closed the gap between them and their targets. It seemed like victory was imminent...

But something was wrong.

Instead of the typical bloom of fire from the enemy when the lance jabbed into the hull, the Brutes themselves went up in flames. Almost a quarter of the total number there went up in flames.

A few managed to avoid being blown up and dug their spikes into the enemy, giving that precious moment of pyrotechnics.

(OOC: Number sunk, 7)

--The skies above--

"Come on, come on..." Muttered Dack as he spotted three enemy planes coming towards him at 2 o'clock. "NOW!" He yelled at himself, pulling hard right on his joystick and forcing the plane into a corkscrew spin, with his cannon a-blazing. One by one, he knocked out the three enemies.

Around the sky, Dregruk planes were putting up fierce resistance to the enemy, lighting up the darkening sky with tracer fire. The flying fortresses seemed to be firing continuously. However, the sheer magnitude of the enemy assault was beginning to make life difficult for all involved.

--The Gage--

The tanker wasn't built to endure an attack, nor to detect one, as was all-too apparent when the torpedoes hit. The attack took the ship completely by surprise, the crew only aware of the torpedoes existence when they exploded on the starboard side of the ship. The situation worsened when the petroleum that was being transported detonated in the holds.

The crew didn't get the chance to abandon ship before the Gage was blown to pieces.

--Hetlak Military Shipyards--

It made no sense to the Defence Wing of the Military Command to run tests of prototype ships without having a team of Dregruk Elites there to keep things especially safe from unwanted guests.

When they heard the base alarm go off, all 15 of the Elites that were in their quarters got to their feet and grabbed their gear.

The briefing at the base had given them detailed instructions as to what was happening there, where to go if anything went pear-shaped and who/what not to shoot when they got there. With their rifles raised and the safeties off, they headed towards the ship they had been ordered to protect.

..(continuted from raising the periscope)

The XO started his rounds, making a full 360 degree circle, but stopped after about 90 degrees starboard. Signaling the Captain, he handed over the periscope. The captain peaked into the periscope and saw a burning Tanker. Afer a closer examination, the ship, just before it went down, read "Dregruk" on the hull.

Immediately, the CO rushed these words from his mouth. "Radio, conn, get me Battle Group Two. Double time it."
---
"This is Battle Group two command, what is the situation 983?"

"We have an allied tanker on fire, probably a torpedo strike. Send a rescue ship, but I doubt there are many.. or any survivors," he paused. "We've figured it's a sub, thats the only thing they couldn't have detected. We're going to search for it."

"Permission granted, 983. Good luck. Rescue vessel on it's way."
---

"Come left 16 degrees, all engines ahead 1/3. Do not cavitate. If there' s a sub out there, I don't want them knowing we're out here. Sonar, conn, keep your ears open. We wont go active, that would give away our position away, and give the enemy a perfect firing solution."

Able Seaman Kenzie staggered, dropped to his knees. His left leg had been pierced by several bullets, the screaming agony forcing him from his bipidal position down to the ground. Seeing his fall, two men swerved from their path, grabbing him under his armpits to drag him off to the ship. His wounds weren't bad, but they were enough to render him incapable of standing up to pilot one of the coastal boats. Racing up the jetties, the ops team ducked from the incoming fire, hearing the crunching ricochets as bullets hit boats moored between the team and the Dregruk guards. Uniformed men raced after them, some seeing them head for the boats turned to other craft, to take the chase out to sea, others attempting to get to the end of the jetty to spray fire down the rows of gleaming new ships. Three men picked a coastal craft, turning to jump onto its open aft, but as they did, guards filled the jetty end. Two of the team instinctively arched their backs as bullets shreaded skin, flesh and muscle, puncturing lungs and hearts, killing them instantly. The surviving member, Private Dick Simon, with no other option, turned back down the jetty, scrambling from side to side, ducking, jumping, jinking and somehow preserving his body despite the fury of the guards. Now joined by the group of Elites, who were rapidly approaching the boat, the Dregruk guard seemed overwhelming. Diving over the wire railing onto the aft deck of the Ramship, Simon watched as several members of the Ops team scrambled to wrench open the metal levers which secured a door, before turning back to help the infured Kenzie on board the ship, bullets flying over as Kenzie and his two assistants scrambled onto the deck, before instantly heading for the eventually opened door. Although the jetty was lengthy, the team would never get the engines started and the craft away before the Elite guardsmen were on board, on in a position to devastate the craft. Searching desperately around the aft deck, Simon found exactly what he had hoped to find. A deck-mounted machine gun with metal shielding lay alone, in the centre of the aft deck, around 5 metres away. Scrambling to his feet, Simon ran behind the shielding, turned the gun around, and fired a test burst, delighted to see the muzzle flash burst out of the gun, illuminating the deck in front of him. Turning the gun to face where the guards would appear along the jetty from behind the cover of other moored defense craft, Simon smiled to himself, and viciously let rip. Managing to drop two men, and send several others scattering away to avoid his murderous destruction, although he did not know whether they were dead or wounded, he lined up his second shot as the on-board clamps resonated, letting go their grip on the jetty ring mounts on the request of the team on the bridge. Putting his finger on the trigger, Simon prepared to let off another shot, but his aim was thrown as the engines of the Prototype Ramship roared to life beneath him, and the craft accelerated away from the jetty.

(Dregruk, please RP the 30 S3-B Viking's launch of 60 Harpoon missles I launched earlier at your Brutes)

Aboard Ticonderoga 1, all was calm as conn spewed out the time untill impact. "65..64..63..62..61..60-"
"Now! Full Port!" The captain screamed. As he said this, the boat began to whine and groan as it forced all its' weight against the rudder, which was cutting a tight arc in the water below. As it did this, the ramship was exposed to a different side of the enemy ship, and this side had 2 Seahawks waiting right in front of them. The pilots' grinned as the hapless ship barreled into their clever trap, and the gates of chance closed. Four torpedos leapt from the choppers into the icy-blue water, and spit up white cylinders of fear behind them, as they barreled straight at the front of the ship. The ship, however, did attempt to turn, which only served to give the torpedos more ship to hit. The unlucky ramship had barely started to turn when four explosions, followed by water splashing on deck and nerve-racking rumbles from below decks came forth. Screams could be heard issuing forth from the hull as the enemy despreately tried to save the ship...in vein. In less than a minute the ship fell on its' side and began to melt into the murky depths below. It was at that point, the Captain wondered what it must have been like to see your whole world fall apart before you in such a swift move. Another Captain could've told him, but he died.
Aboard Ticonderoga 7
"65..60..55..50..45..40-"
"Damn, Full Starboard!" The captain yelled. As he said this, the boat began to moan as it forced all its' wepower against the rudder, which was cutting a tight arc, but it was far to late. The ramship plowed into the Ticonderoga's back end, causing the hull to groan and shriek for a moment. Then, all went silent. Even the SH-60s seemed to have become soundless. Then a man on deck saw the last word he would ever see, as the Captain of the enemy ship spoke it through the glass at him. That word was 'Now'. Suddenly reality was ushered back into the world, as the back of the ship was blown from the front end, nearly slicing the ship in two.
The Captain pressed a button to an intercom in the back-end of the ship. "Damage report!.....DAMAGE REPORT!......Shit!"
As if on cue, a now-deaf sailor said the same thing as he saw Cruise missles spill from their now broken conatinment box, and clatter to floor and roll toward the white-hot flame where the brute-ship had done its' deed. A white flash was all the sailor saw afterward before he was turned to ash. The 28 Cruise Missles errupted, vaporizing the back-end of the Ticonderoga instantly, and engulfing the ramship in white-hot flames of hellish destruction as both ships were blown to pieces, the shockwave killing most of the crew of both ships, and the sea drowning the rest as the 2 SH-60 helicopters were thrown into eachother, exploding in grand anthem with the boats.
(5 more Ticonderogas go bye-bye after this)
"Status report, NOW!" The Admiral demanded as his fist crashed on a table.
"Sir, six Ticonderoga ships sunk, and seven Brutes (These are from before)."
"Damn.....call up the subs, tell them to form a sea wall, have them move up to the enemy brute formation and execute operation 'freundeskreis'."
"Yessir!"
Aboard Seawolf 6
"Yes, alright." The Captain placed the phone on the reciever as he moved to his seat. "Gentlemen...Our boys are getting pounded up there, and not in a good way!" Laughs issue forth. "We're gonna run op 26-B on the Bruteships, freundeskreis."
The subs of the Holy Navy moved out.
15 min. later
"Conn, sonar. Contacts bearing 035, 036, 037, 039, ...(you get the idea)...!"
"Right, firing solutions on 035 through 039, now!"
...The Captain took a moment to marvel at his beautiful sub, its' marvelous effieciency...
"Firing solutions achieved on targets 035 throgh 039, sir! Torpedos ready!"
"Fire tubes 1 through eight, two sharks per bait!"
"Empty tubes!"
Shudders could be heard from the depths below...eight of them...Then eight screws began to turn...But that was not all. Right after that, torpedos could be heard entering the water all around the Brute-ships, all in a circle that soon became a noose of torpedos, tightening at every passing mement as the torpedos sped at 50 knots to the center of the Brute formation.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
"*kzzt*Yellow 2, Fox 4!*kzzt*" A missle sped off at a plane that had just turned a friendly into a ball of fiery pain.
"*kzzt*This is yellow leader, over! All yellow, spiral on 3 o'clock high!*kzzt*"
The yellow fighters' looked up. They saw flying fortresses, creating veritable walls of flaming planes around them. Yellow 3 smiled and grunted as he saw it happen. Then they took off. Pulling full burn at the planes, the broke into two groups of five as they whipped above and below them, moving wildly and unpredictably. Then thay all pulled 12-G turns and began to spiral in and out of eachother, pulling and drawing enemy fire into futility as they constantly took preassure off eachother, forcing the gunners to fire at the lead plane who changed every half-second as they spiraled directly at them, dodgeing bullets with expert ease. Then, thay all fired a missle at once at the planes, and pulled off and burned away, dodgeing the fire which suddenly stopped, as the gunners turned their attention to the 10 high explosive, wickedly maneuverable missles streaking at them.
(Dregruk, please RP the 30 S3-B Viking's launch of 60 Harpoon missles I launched earlier at your Brutes. Casualties so far: 15 F-14, 6 Ticonderoga)

Crown Guard High Command, somewhere nr. Nenya, ICEL

"There's still no clear, concise response to our 'concern'," the man was saying softly. Semir-randil watched his face carefully, enjoying the minute changes in expression that were more common on Human faces than Nenyan ones. He nodded carefully.

"The Council," his adjutant continued, "did indeed vote in favour of the motion stating that decisive response would be advised, if no response to the claim was received quickly."

"Indeed," Semir-randil agreed with a nod, "and I voted for the motion. If they do not deny it quickly, and they do not even attempt to answer, then they are unsure. If that is the case, then we have no choice but to take action to police the conflict. Rapidly. Samtonia be damned; any complaints they might make are irrelevant from here on in. Although I doubt we'll be hearing from them any time soon..."

"I most definitely agree, sir," the officer stated with a sharp nod, "but returning to the previous subject; I'm aware you were not physically present at the meeting, and that the Empress cast your vote on her behalf; therefore, it should be clearly stated, sir, that the Council pre-approved whatever measures the Commander-in-Chief might decide to take, up to the definition of the Third Echelon of Combative Interaction."

Semir-randil arched an eyebrow. "Third? And the UG acknowledged that?" He waited until his adjutant gave another curt nod before continuing, "That's curious. Lethal arms aren't usually authorized under any circumstances during an Intervention War."

The most ancient Nenyan in existance, High King of Ma-Nenya, allowed himself a sigh, and a small reflective pause, before going on. "This had better not become complicated. So far, it's all very simple. Dregruk is flexing muscles in the most ridiculous manner, and invading left right and centre. If the war were left to its own devices, they would almost certainly fail sooner or later; that's just a matter of time. - Unfortunately, time costs lives."

He stood, pacing uncharacteristically. Usually he did not indulge the urge to manifest internal conflict physically, but this was an exception; his adjutant had been with him for some years, and he knew he could trust the man.

Gazing at the data spread on various walls in this, the largest segment of the Command Chamber in the High Command Citadel, Semir-randil's eye fell upon the violent and aggressive state that had caused all of this trouble. The war would cost alot, a voice was nagging at the back of his mind; all the more reason, he decided, to end it quickly. That, with a full mobilization, he guessed, could be achieved rather rapidly; but this wasn't a full mobilization. He had only a smattering of forces to work with at the prescribed combative level; essentially he could only call upon exactly what was needed for each individual operation.

He made his decision quickly; experience brings such decisiveness, and Semir-randil had experience in abundance. He prayed this would not be another experience which was most disliked: that of error.

He heaved his breath in, held it for a moment, then let it out with speech: "I want surgical strikes against the Dregruk mainland. Primary targets are anti-air establishments. A wave of X#s - ten will be enough - are to fly recon missions to guage the level of response, and are to be followed up by G# heavy strike bombers protected by M# interceptors following inside the defence envelope - but barely. I don't want the enemy to know that the bombers are being escorted.

"But we can't expect that to work as is. So; the Vanguard is to immediately begin moving towards Dregrukian waters. She is to maintain strict radio silence; the Battlegroup can maintain comms through less monitorable means - the subs can use VLC, the surface ships can use tightbeam lasers. The Vanguard is authorized to warn ships from entering the one hundred mile exclusion zone around it; it is to engage and incapacitate - not destroy: incapacitate - any Dregrukian ship which challenges it. However, if said vessel or vessels enter the exclusion zone, it is to eliminate the threat; we'll be within our rights until the 'group enters their territory proper anyway.

"Meanwhile, I want specific recon from the SatOps boys and girls regarding the area where the Dregrukians are weakest. I want to know on what front they are failing first; or, failing that, I want specific targets earmarked. I know they've drawn up some already, contrary to regs, but lets make it look like was entirely by the book, eh?"

The adjutant grinned sheepishly, and then gave a small shrug; Semir-randil knew the man had ordered marks placed on the maps to define exact targets well ahead of time - he was actually impressed. It took brains to work outside the regs in a way that didn't contravene honourable behaviour; and it took guts to attempt it, with so much to lose. But he really expected nothing else; the man before him was nothing if not excellent at choosing which battles were worth fighting - and which risks were worth taking.

"I hope you took that all down," Semir added, with a flick of his eyebrows.

--Hetlak Military Shipyards--

The sudden onslaught from the Ramship's machine gun forced the Elites to take cover. A few suicidal guards had some bizarre idea that bullets wouldn't hit them if they ran straight at the source of them. Whether or not they learned the folly of their plan was an entirely different matter altogether, but they were made very dead very quickly.

One Elite, a graduate of psychology, came up with the idea to try and scare out the enemy. Grabbing the microphone for the PA system in the shed, he said, "Enemy sabateurs! You are surrounded! This shipyard has been surrounded by battleships already! If you drop your weapons now and come out now, you will not be harmed."

--Coast of Crealir--

(OOC: I don't have enough time tonight to do any RPing on the Brutes, so just assume that 8 more are sunk)

Hearing the announcement on the installation PA, the entire strike team tensed in their positions. For a second, they were worried, but then their training kicked in. The Elite may have been a Pyschology graduate, but the Falasturians were trained Spec Ops, and knew that whether they were surrounded or not, they would do their task. The three Ops on the bridge including McGregor, and Simons on the machine gun on the aft deck, all pulled their infra-red goggles down over their eyes, and prepared for any action that might occur. Another member of the team, who had dressed the wounded Kenzie's leg, opened the hatch door out to the side of the boat, holding the metal bars ringing the boat for support as he worked his way to the outside of the boat, opened the hatch door to the mounted gun on the front of the boat, and clambered in, to use his training in naval warfare and weapons ops to fend off any Dregrukian defense craft.

Back on the bridge, McGregor scanned the harbour, glowing in its eery green light from his goggles, for an escape route. Glancing down at a map he had taken from his pocket, he compared what he saw on the paper to what he could see, tossing and turning with the movement of the quite speedy Ramship out of the bridge windows. Taking a short while to think, he eventually made his decision.

"Right. Garth, turn to due East here. We're going to take a trip near the submarine pens to avoid the gun platforms they have North-West of us. Then we're going to take a path directly diagonally across this bay, heading for the Northern side of the exit from this place. There's an archored Cruiser at the Southern tip, and I want to stay away from it."

The Ramship sped on, the whole of the crew hoping they could make it, and waiting anxiously for the defense craft to start swarming from behind and in front.

(OOC:C'mon Dregruk. You're the one who said that we need to be able to devote full attention to this.)
IC: --Aboard Carier 1--
A man sitting quietly at his station watching a blank screen suddenly blurted out words that were immedietly caught by the Admiral. "Admiral, radar. We have eight ramships moving in for the kill on the battlegroup, the Subs didn't get them all. Recommend immediete address on issue."
The Admiral sat down for a moment in his large, black leather chair and pondered what to do next. It was a tough task. Why had some broke through? So odd, as this was a time-tested tactic. Oh, well. They got through. Now, How to finish them off..........He suddenly stood up, turned and faced a waiting ensign with a wide, cheerful grin on his face and issued the following orders: "Right. Have the subs do a bit of coralling. I want those ships tucked in in a tight group, and the subs firing torpedos all the way. While that's happening, scare up 32 S3-B Vikings, and have them launch their Harpoon ASMs at the Brutes, evenly. That's what, eight missles per ship? Yeah. That, coupled with the torpedo coralling should be massacre enough to guarantee our win against the Brutes. You know what to do, make it happen."
"Yessir!" The Ensign briskly stepped to phone the fleet on what to do, but not after he saluted rather smartly, and then briskly walked out the door, with a fair ammount of pride in his chest. I've just saluted THE ADMIRAL! HA! My friends will be so jealous. Even at his age, he was still as sharp as a Miracle Blade (lol, *as seen on tv*).
(And Falastur. Whre's your navy? Did they run-away, or what?)

3 Air Recon Squad

The thirteen M# interceptors flew in tight formation, their forward-swept claw-like wings almost touching as they maintained completely static positions in relation to one another. But the group as a whole was hurtling through the atmosphere at several times the speed of sound, sonic booms chasing them across the Atlantic.

They were headed to Falastur, and in fact, were only a minute or so away from Falasturn airspace - at their current velocity.

Chatter between the aircraft is non-existant, to outside eyes; very weak but tightbeam lasers allow for almost undetectable communications - and certainly communications that cannot be intercepted - between the aircraft.

A female voice is asking: "Reckon they can see us coming?"

"Not sure. I have no idea if they're even watching. Intel is patchy; the air war seems concentrated in certain areas, and ground-defence wasn't mentioned in the report I read," comes the softer, but still feminine response.

"Same here," comes the first speaker again. A long pause.

"So," says the second speaker, "do you think Taral or Divur will win the league this year?"

"Taral," a third, male voice states in a no-nonsense manner, "he's got the better style. Quick, decisive - besides, no Menjdari ever won the first division."

"Pah," scoffs the first, female voice, "Divur is like lightning-"

"Target position approaching. Prepare to break formation and begin toe-dipping," brief laughter is the response, "and let's see what they got."

* * *

A high-intensity radio burst emits from the warships in orbit again, but this time, the burst is aimed at Falastur, and not Dregruk. It isn't as intense as the one aimed at Dregruk, however: but it is intense enough to cut through weak electronic jamming; it's also amplified by the M#s, which are slowing to subsonic speed and dropping to a lower altitude - currently 92,000ft - as they near the air border.

Falasturn air assets and ground defences, we are on a mission of mercy. Please do not open fire. We cannot make the decision whether or not to offer aid to Falastur unless we can be sure that our assets will not come under fire from those we seek to protect. Repeat, Falastur air assets and ground defences...

[OOC: This was supposed to be in the last post, which mysteriously posted before I was finished...but to prevent confusion by editing what might have already been read (and thus nobody knows an addition has even been made), I'll add it in a seperate post.

As usual, alterations are possible if anything written does not tie in with certain facts I may not be aware of. :)]

Orbit --> Dregruk Airspace

The advantage of sealed-canopy aircraft is that, provided they can still fly in thin atmosphere, they are also orbit-capable. Such is true of the second and third generation # - 'Sharp' - series of aircraft. The G# heavy strike bombers was no exception; thus, rather than taking the 'long route', as other aircraft have thus far, they descend through the atmosphere from space.

And dip directly into Dregruk airspace - above the capital. Naturally, it takes some minutes for them to descend, and, for now, they don't seem intent on shooting. Instead, they merely descend at a mere twenty knots, defying gravity with reverse thrust as they 'slowly' descend earthwards... awaiting some form of response.

(OOC: I am devoting my full time to this RP. I was tired after a very long day in court and didn't have any energy left to make a post that wasn't "The ramships sailed forwards". Speaking of which, I'm fed up of them just slooooooowly moving forwards and being attacked by you. They are supposed to be fast strike ships...)

"We are within safe strike distance, cap'n." Said an the operator of the engines on board the lead Ramship. "I am turning on the assault thrusters, sir."

All of the Brutes, one after the other, made a deafening vrooming noise, and almost doubled in speed, tearing headlong towards the enemy fleet, closing the gaps between them in seconds.

--Hetlak Military Shipyards--

"They're getting away! Get onboard those attack boats, quick!" Yelled an Elite, jumping onto one of the aforementioned craft and firing up the engine. Another Elite manned the grenade launcher that was at the back of the craft. Dozens of men followed suit and tore out after the escaping Ramship.

--Ghastopol, Dregruk Capital--

Decades of paranoid leadership had given Dregruk the simple mantra of "More guns, more safety". In later years, sophisticated (By Dregruk standards, at least) tracking technology was installed to take human error out of the equation when it came to an attack situation on the homeland.

When the sensors of the guns detected an unidentified ships descending above Ghastopol, it immediately decided it was a hostile and would need to be disposed of. All around the capital, guns were brought to bear and began firing, missiles soared into the sky and anti-aircraft fire lit up the sky. The citizens in Ghastopol went about their daily business; the system was often set off by particularly large birds, so it was almost a regular occurrence for them.

IDS Vanguard, Atlantic Ocean, on approach to Dregrukian economic exclusion zone / Ghastopol, Dregruk

"Shit, it's far too hot. We're gonna need some big ordinance to get through this flak; we're using the new anti-missile clusters, but it's just a matter of time before we get pegged down. Looks like effective anti-air defences; possibly more dependant on sheer firepower than our more elegant Hornet units. - Command, we'll need to come in hot and low to get beyond this stuff," came the vaguely irritated but coolly calm tones of Wing Commander Darrel. The Crown Air Force did not function on anxiety, but on the utmost calm: the chatter which was frequently zipping between their aircraft reinforced that calm, making them feel...

Well, relatively normal. That was the idea, at least, Semir-randil conceded. He sighed at the report; he had arrived on the Vanguard just twenty minutes ago, flown in by a stealthy black ops craft which had likely not been noticed by many eyes - although he had not arrived from the direction of ICEL.

No, he'd been elsewhere entirely; he sighed. His day had already been far too complicated. Rescue a slave, direct a war. Definitely a complicated day.

He considered for a hair of a moment; lives were at stake here - speed was required. He replied quickly, crisply, "Can you manage a high-altitude assault?"

* * *

Darrel hauled his heavy strike bomber about yet again, striving to shake off yet another missile which had tagged him. The G# was not as maneuverable as the lighter interceptors and fighters, but her large, menacingly graceful form was deceptive: she could out-fly almost any mere jet-propelled aircraft, provided her pilot was good enough. Darrel was good enough; he had flown several sorties in the past, and was a former Alpha Squadron wing commander. Now he flew recon in this bomber bird; she - he liked to call her Mandy Baby, although had never told a soul that he did - was a recon bird, even though she was the same model as the basic G# mk4 AAB.

She had been 'upgraded'; in exchange for now having a larger radar cross-section (she has a signature comparable in size to an albatross), she now carried two plates on her sides. These plates were criss-crossed with what looked like faint scratch marks, ending with what appear to be tiny puncture holes. In fact, they're the latest point defence unit devised by the Crown Guard R&D Division; compact combined anti-guidance/anti-missile weapons. The faint lines fire beams of electrons at their target, honed into a stream by a powerful electromagnetic field; the 'punctures' spat 'globules' of electrons contained in a ball- lightning-like form. The latter required a supply of hydrogen, however, but was capable of turning a missile into slag.

Currently, the cockpit was a helluva lot brighter than usual: the two defensive plates were firing constantly, in all directions. His hydrogen store was good for about another twenty minutes; after that point, 'dumb' weapons would be able to strike him down with impunity.

He glanced at the radar image: the whole area beneath his bird was lit up with flak; there was no way a missile could find its way through that with any degree of accuracy. A low-altitude assault would be required; losses would be unacceptable, he was certain.

"Negative, Command. We'll have to rethink this. They have far too much going for them. Request permission to return to the barn, sir?"

The reply was instant: "Granted. Bring your people home before the worst happens."

Off to his left, he caught a flash of white-blue; it was too late. "Too late," he droned calmly, driving his anger down. "I suggest that it would be difficult to obtain air superiority without CS support, sir," he noted as he clicked out the withdraw signal to the others; currently he communicated with the Battlegroup via satelite link, using a tight microwave beam.

* * *

The people of the city of Ghastopol might notice amidst the sky tonight several brilliant white stars which burst into being, but are pinprick-small; they last only a few seconds, but those who know about the incursion can be in no doubt as to the source: the Crown Air Force has withdrawn, with a single loss...for now.

(OOC: Sorry, but you didn't tell me that they went ungodly fast)
IC: The radar station suddenly became alive with activity. The operator spit his coffee out as he saw the ships nearly double in speed instantly."Sir the ships just doubled in speed!"
The Admiral whipped around, baffled and worried at the same time.
"What?! confirm that!"
"It's true, sir." Sonar spoke up. "They just got a fuck load noisier."
"Well, shit." He stroked his chin, unable to come up with an effective plan.
"Alright, they got the jump on us. Can the subs contain them?"
"no, sir, they just radioed in. They are faaar to slow to do so."
"Damn."
(I'll rp the rest soon.......)

--Aboard Nimitz 2 of carrier group 7--
"Conn, radar. Enemy ships aproaching, estimated time 'till arrival 90 seconds..."
"Right, all Ticonderoga, torpedos away!"
Immedietly after that was made, eight willing torpedos leapt into the water, making an icy white burst that was quickly enveloped back into cold blue again as they sped off at their targets....in vein.
A flaberghasted radar operator blinked in amazment as the enemy speed increased...again, and then a Ticonderoga suddenly was lost from radar. "Conn, radar, enemy ships speed increasing! And Ticonderoga 3 is down!"
The Captain whipped around. "What?! How much?"
"Faster than 50 knots, our torps can't catch them!"
"What?!...Crap, red alert!"
Sirens go blaring and men wake-up from their posts as the lights dim to red.
"All hands, brace for impact! Estimated time?"
"60 seconds.....50 seconds.....40.....30.....20.....10.9.8.7.6.5.4.3.2.1.
At first, there was nothing, and all the men stood, braced to something, anything they could find. Then a large rumbling was heard below decks.
And it accelerated to a shake, and then an earthquake as two ram-ships dug their spikes in on the carrier, one on either side, and blowing two obscenely large holes in the sides as water gushed in.
"What's the status below decks!"
"Sir, we have an uncontrollable ammount of water pouring in on either side! We have to evac-" The man was cut off by an explosion as the fuel below decks ignited, blowing out the nearby engines and creating a third hole.
The ship slowly but surely sank straight down into the water, as the men jumped off the sides.
--In the skies Above--
"*kzzt*That's it!*kzzt*" Shouted Yellow 6 as he became fed-up with the number of Tomcats that had been shot-out of the sky. It was simply amazing.
The ratio simply didn't pan out, but that was not something he could control.
What he could do, however, was request support...
"*kzzt*This is yellow six to 1, over. We need some support, three's just to many planes here!*kzzt*"
"*kzzt*Agreed, Yellow six.*kzzt*This is yellow one to base, requesting Ticonderoga support, code firewall, over*kzzt*"
"Code firewall" Hmmmmm....The Admiral smiled with delight. "Well, it took them long enough to request it!"
The radio operator stood ready, waiting for the order he knew would come.
"Right, make it happen."
"Yessir!" The radio operator got on and radioed the order. Upon recieving it, the Ticonderogas launched the plan, and a wall of 75 SM-2's came barreling at the enemy, spinning to the sky, and bursting off forward into the formation as all the friendly F-14s suddenly either dove in low or climbed off high and headed back to base, as 150 fresh Tomcats took-off from their carriers to replace the one's comming back, and the one's that weren't.
(total now: 2 carriers sunk, 20 Tomcats down, 12 Ticonderoga down, and please rp the last couple of posts in the air, you haven't. And I need a report of your losses thus far please.)

"INCOMING MISSILES!" Yelled Dack into the radio, before pulling up and left in his fighter, trying to avoid being hit. The Spearhead fighters were designed to be fast and maneuverable, but this would be a real test of their effectiveness.

As he continued his climb, a missile screamed past in front of him, impacting and detonating on one of the other pilots. Dack was forced to pull up in a different direction to avoid being perforated by debris from the explosion.

(OOC: Losses: As far as I'm concerned, all the Brutes have gotten sunk. Half the fleet is either sunk or in the process of doing so. The planes are down to 3 quarters of their original numbers.)

(thanks for the casualty count!)
The carriers were busy with activity, as the men on them barely had time to breath, as the rush of the Tomcats taking-off was immedietly replaced with nearly the same number landing for re-arrmamant and refueling. Meanwhile, the 150 fresh Tomcats swept into battle, tailing the missles as best they could to pounce on their enemy as they were dodgeing the missles coming in.....
While that was happening, the subs started to surround the Navy of Dregruk in a circle, quietly forming it and as silently as possible slowly moved in for the kill.....

The ramship was around a third of the way across the bay, only a mile from the East coast where they would avoid the coastal battery and turn for the final exit, when spotlights began to flare up around them, and the Ops team became aware that finally the Dregrukians had got their defense craft in order. With a low whistle almost inaudible over the roar of the engine, and then a much louder sploosh as water was thrown in all directions, a grenade impacted with the water around 50 metres port of the Ramship as the Elites, leading a group of defense craft, began ranging their target. Watching intensely out of the rear windows of the bridge, McGregor knew that the team could not hope to outrun the Dregrukians. While the Ramship was fast, it was also twice as big as the coastal ships, and they had a clear speed advantage. With a brash comment as another plume of water arose only 20 metres aft of the ship and to its starboard, the Ramship began jinking in the water, taking an erratic course as it tried to follow the course McGregor had planned for it. Within minutes, the coastal defense ships would be upon the Ramship. It seemed survival would be down to agility and firepower, and McGregor thanked the Heavens that he had the best naval gunner he knew in the front mounted gun on the Ramship, and a trustworthy man on the rear machine gun.

And right before the torpedos that would finish the enemy naval presence were fired, an order was broadcasted accross all channels. "This is Admiral Christoph Alexander of The Holy Imerial Navy. All assets, cease and dissist, and RTB, all ships and subs, Head back to docks. But before we go, we'd like to give you a present, curtesy of a Holy Order Of Fuehrer Christopher Thompson." The Admiral hung-up the phone, and the RTB and shipping-out was done. The Holy Imperial Navy had tipped the naval battle decidedly in Falastur's direction, and they could easily finish them off, if there were any left after what was about to happen.....
As soon as all the Tomcats and Hawkeyes landed, and the Subs ha dcome back and all the ships started to move out, the Holy Order was carried out.
The Admiral allowed himself a menacing grin as he gave the go ahead.
"All sea assets, give them a sea and sky of flame!"
As soon as he hung-up, it began. This order, when given, was in effect the broken-arrow order of the Army. It meant, quite simply, fire every damn thing you have. Hundreds of cruise missles and SM-2s errupted from the Ticonderogas and sped off at the enemy, as hundreds more cruise missles errupted from the depths below from the Seawolf's and ignited, and sped off to find the death of a ship. The Admiral watched the sky, or what littles could be seen of the sky as it filled with wave after wave of missles, and the Radar and Sonar operators sat, their mouths' gaping open as they saw and heard the unbelievable ammount of missles headed in the enemy direction to shoot down all the air and sea assets of the enemy. All the while, the Holy Imperial Navy sailed home for repairs and replacement of lost ships.....
The Admiral suddenly felt very bad, almost pitiful, for the enemy. He hadn't even given them a chance. It would take far more than the hand of even God to reverse the damage that would be done in a matter of minutes.....
Meanwhile, the Docks christened newly built ships that had been made for a new division, but would now replace the dead ships, and more ships were put into preoduction for the now delayed construction of a new Division, as the newly christened 'H.I.N. Assault' was loaded with men and Chinooks. The H.I.N. Assault was essentially a carrier, with the exception that it was much shorter, and had a much larger deck. Why? So it could launch the 50 Chinooks it carried simultaneously to make a Marine assalut for the 10,000 Marines that were packed in below decks. It had, however, been a quikly drawn up design, specifically for this war, and lacked any other purpose and no defense, so it would have to be guarded.

The fleet was lost.

It had become horribly apparent that the end was nigh when the radar and sonar picked up thousands of missiles and torpedoes speeding towards them. It didn't need to be put in words, it was simply the final act of any vessel in the Dregruk navy; it would launch everything it could before they entered a watery grave.

All around the fleet, missiles and cannons boomed off with their final salute, as the enemy ordnance impacted.

--The skies above--

The pilots could see what was happening. The sudden flurry of enemy weaponry, followed by every ship in the Dregruk fleet firing off everything it could meant only one thing to the pilots; game over.

Yet another unspoken rule came into effect, one that had made the air force infamous in the battles against Falastur previously; the planes shoved their throttles on full and dove at the enemy ships, clenching their fingers tight on the trigger. Any who weren't cut to pieces by AA fire would pile headlong into an enemy ship, content with the fact that even though they were dying, some other bastard was dying too.

If nothing else, it made for an impressive ending.

--Meanwhile, the capital of Christopher Thompson--

When war had been declared on Dregruk by Christopher Thompson, their nation was scouted out as a target for invasion and conquest, the theory being that the sooner they were put out the war, the better. After great deals of discussion, a decision was made; the assassination of their leader would leave the country in enough turmoil to make it a ripe target.

Which was precisely the reason Mike Sherman had been inserted.

He was one of the many "morally flexible" members of the Dregruk Special Operations Detail, who's job was to do what the Government flatly denied at every available opportunity; to take certain people out of the picture.

He had been taking careful notes on the movements of the leader of the enemy nation (He never wanted to know his target's name, lest he form any sort of attachment to him) and had even managed find out the time and place of the man's next major public speech; right in the middle of the capital. It was to be in front of some important looking government building.

In preparation for the assassination, he'd found a convenient building. Two, actually. One that overlooked the area the man would be making his speech in (The obvious choice for any sniper), the other some 700 metres away, with a roof that had a clear line of sight to the same area.

(OOC: CT, I'll RP the hit when your chap starts making the speech.)

--Waters near Hetlak Military Shipyards--

"Reload... FIRE!" Yelled the driver of one of the defence boats to the Elite behind him who was manning the mounted grenade launcher. The shot missed, but only just. They were getting close to the target.

Other boats hadn't been so lucky; the man using the Ramship's mounted machine gun certainly knew what he was doing. His shots would lace the pursuers ships, piercing fuel, deck and men with ease. Only a mere handful of the ships giving chase were still following the enemy.

"Reload... FIRE!"

The sonar operator aboard carrier 1 cringed as he heard what he hoped he wouldn't: the light trembling thuds of shells entering the air, and the high-pitched screams of missles being carried to him through the decks and waters'. Then the Radar operator started shouting the call that meant they want to say good-bye:"Vampire vampire vampire! Missles inbound, sir!"
"What?!"
"Shells too, sir," the sonarman spoke up.
"Well, damn. Not much we could've done about it. Kick up the CIWS amd SM-2's, and have all the ships start evasive manouvers, now!"
"Something else, sir."
"Yes?! Waht is it!"
"There's enemy contacts closing at supersonic speed, sir."
...
"Kamikaze. Great. Alright, well, we all know what to do then."
All the ships went to red alert, and started evading shells as their CIWS and SM-2 missle launchers went off like mad. Shells were raining all around the ships, and a few were lucky enough to strike, silencing the missle launchers as they crippled the ships' abylity to defend its' self. Missles and planes exploded beautifully in the air, some close enough to kill men on deck of the ships, but very few did any damage. But then, as it seemed the navy would arise relatively unscathed, a tremendous blow was dealt to them. Of all the planes that sped off to end their lives, only three made it past the gun-fire, with one of those three crashing on the deck of an aircraft carrier as it was cut to pieces only seconds earlier, killing all those on deck who hadn't died when 2 shells hit the deck right before. One plane hit the bridge of a Ticonderoga, killing it, and immoblilizing it so it would have to be towed home, and the last was the worse of all. Dack, as he was known, would go down in the annals of history as the monster who killed the greatest naval tactician and most potent protector of the sea. He barreled in, full speed, blod-shot eyes, ready for death. He dove right in, not even evading the CIWS fire as his plane was torn to pieces, because he knew exactly what would happen. He had gotton too close for it too matter, and as bullets entered his body and his life faded from him, he threw on the afterburners as his plane was being pulled apart by fire, and slammed it into the Tower of Carrier 1. The Admiral didn't even try to escape when he noticed that it would get through, because he knew it was futile. In the seconds before the plane hit, as men were ducking and dodgeing, trying to avoid the death that was about to find them, he walked forward to the glass, and saluted the pilot as he reflected on what he had done, and what he had left the future to be, as the plane tore through the glass and exploded, taking out the tower in a single black plume. All the men on the flight deck suddenly looked up at the Tower, pausing amid all the chaos. They then knelt and prayed, as some got on Tomcat radios to call in the hit. Only minutes later, the Fuehrer of The Holy Empire, Christopher Thompson was informed. He wept for the man that had ended the coup and Pirutler, and he wept for a dear, dear friend. He then called an emergency press conference and was outside his office in a near-by courtyard, 30 minutes later before a crowd of waiting people. He took a deap breath as he began his speech. "I will be brief, because I have many things to attend to. Today, a horrible thing has happened. The Navy of Dregruk that was operating in Falastur's waters has been sunk." The people were dumbfounded, didn't that mean it was over? People started to make noise, ask questions, and the Fuehrer raised his hand, silencing them. "Taking with them in a kamakazie attack, Admiral Chridtoph Alexander." A shudder of silence ushered through the crowd as they heard the impossoible: The Admiral who ended the coup, dead? "At 12:15 this afternoon, a pilot slammed into the Tower of Carrier 1, killing all in the Tower instantly. We have recovered intercepted messages of this pilot, and he aparently is named Dack. Apparently, he was an ace among aces, killing 9 of our own Tomcats, and now murdering our Admiral. Today shall be declared a day of rememberance for our lost Admiral, and his devotion and love for our great empire. The new Admiral, Admiral Alexander Anderson will take his duties as soon as our navy has been repaired and the ships lost have had their christening ceremonies, which will take place later this afternoon when the Navy should be arriving. I have called this country to war once, and I shall do it again. But to be safe, first, in the event of a catostrophic attack, such as one that would incur my death, I appoint Christe Alucard to be my temporary sucessor during this war. He shall have full duties until the war ends and there will then be an election, if I die. As per my orders, starting in 3 hours, we shall be at our highest alert, and if anything else of this loss happens, I shall be forced to declare martial law. I shall now ask the Congress to declare that since our Admiral's death on this day, that a state of war, not conflict assistance, but war has existed between the nation of Dregruk and The Holy Empire. We shall be the extinguishing light of this horrible dark enemy, we shall see them all to hell before this war's end! They dare challenge this sacred Empire, built on blood and honor! We will grind them all to dust! In the name of God, and Christoph Alexander, we will suceed! And not just suceed! Oh, no. We shall prevail against this horrible night, and come out from it strong and pure, cloaked in our holy shield, protected by our righteous sword, and victorious behind our virtuous armor. And furthurmore, -"*phut* (This is the :sniper: part, Dregruk)
OOC: let's assume a 3 RL day period before my navy can again be fit to kill. Repairs, christening, transfer of power, and all that goodness. Along with the soon death of my leader. :D

--1 minute earlier--

Sherman was on the roof of the second building, with his sniper rifle unfolded from its briefcase. The silencer was tightly screwed on, leaving no margin for error. It was raining. A few droplets ran down the scope of his rifle, as he centered the cross-hairs on his mark.

Another day, another job. That was all it meant to him.

He took a final look at the man he was about to kill's face. He was shouting, screaming almost, about something. While Sherman couldn't lip-read, he was pretty sure he caught the names "Dack" and "Dregruk". Interesting.

He shut his left eye, took a slow breath, held it, and squeezed the trigger. The silencer made the gunshot a mere whisper in the rain.

"Damn." He muttered to himself, realising his amateurish mistake; his shot hadn't been an instantly fatal one. No headshot, heartshot or even neckshot. It was still fatal, but it would be a slow and painful death for the poor bastard: a bullet in his kidney.

Sherman packed up his rifle and left the roof. In the apartment building that overlooked the scene, a hired thug would wake up in a locked room with a sniper rifle. He'd take the fall. Not Sherman. Sherman was already on his way to his extraction point.

--Dregruk Military Command--

"What do you mean lost?!" Yelled one of the Generals to another.

"They fired off everything they had at our fleet. Our boys didn't stand a chance. Although they did manage to take a few with them..."

"Do we have any names?"

"Well, we do have one. We've been listening to the radio and long range chatter to and from Christopher Thompson, and it would appear that a pilot named..." He shuffled through some transcripts, "...Dack, I believe, took down 9 aircraft during the battle, then plowed his plane into the command tower of an aircraft carrier. He was being shot to pieces in the process, but managed to kill something of a national hero in Christopher Thompson."

"The people need a hero. Let's give them one." Piped up a General in charge of public morale.

"And have a fleet prepared. We're going to invade Christopher Thompson."

Okay, let's try and fix this from now on. This is important enough to the rp that I think I'll post it here. The Holy Empire Of Christopher Thompson was founded by Christopher Thompson, and since he has attained an almost God-like status there, it is named thus. But for the future, please refer to my country as ''The Holy Empire', or something to that effect. Thanks!
(I'll post later, eating lunch right now)

CHRISTOPHER THOMPSON ASSASINATED, ADMIRAL KILLED
Read the headlines. It was a day of mourning for the country everywhere. It was the hardest day for the people of Christopher Thompson, and it would be forever remembered, but not just as the day two great men died, but also as the day that The Holy Empire struck back. A flame of the purest revenge roared in the heart and soul of every man, woman and child, and they would be redeemed. The economy was officially set to war-time, and the conversion began even as the first bullets were fired into the head of the sniper that had been found. The poor man didn't even stand trial, he was guilty in all of the nation's eyes. The transfers of power were made, and the country went to a full war-time status as a declaration of war was drawn up and passed unanimously in less than one hour. The deaths of the two greatest men in the history of The Holy Empire would be avenged, and making the weapons and preparing for a possible homeland invasion was the first step. It became increasingly obvious that a possible invasion of The Holy Empire was mounting, and the assasination only confirmed it. What is the best way to make chaos? Cut off the head. A time-tested tactic, that would not work here.
The transfers of power had been made, and the entire country was working towards the war effort. Factories were converted, and the 'Marines'
(' ' because it's more like a special ops/medium beach invasion force) were getting ready to defend their homeland and the cities was readied. Manned barricades were set-up and the country was declared in martial law as the returning submarines, which had com back suprisingly unscathed, began to mine the seazones as all traffic in and out of the country was halted.
--The Mansion (effectively white house)--
"The funeral processions will have to wait until we are more secure, sir." Said an aide.
"Yes, I understand." Replied Christe Alucard, the war appointed Fuehrer.
"Well damn," Said Alexander Anderson, the new Admiral, "it's going to take us a while to pull our assets together before we can be fully effective, sir."
"Yes, I understand. Have the navy, minus the submarines which will continue to mine in packs and provide our first line of naval defense, go into their ports, seal them up and begin the repairs immedietly."
"Understood, Fuehrer." The Admiral proclaimed, which was supported by a sharp salute as he left the room in a hurry.
"And you, aide. Please leave now."
"Ah.....Yes sir!" The aide left in quite a hurry as Alucard sat down in his new leather chair, and picked up his nice, red phone and dialed the number 007.
There was no answer, just someone picking up a phone somewhere. Then, the Fuehrer spoke: "Code red, coastal defenses to full alert. Barricade, and take full systems ready. In two hours, only our subs will be in the water, and no planes will be flying. If you see any surface ship in the water, destroy it. Same for any aircraft. This will be in effect until our first counter-attack as per protocol 159.357." He then hanged up the phone as the five coastal batteries were readied. (To see a description of the batteries, click on sig link and go to military)

Dregruk Economic Exclusion Zone; 250mi-320mi deployment point

Still the Battlegroup met no resistance. It had slowed as it entered Dregruk waters - in fact, only one (currently and obviously visible) ship had pushed that far ahead; one of the cruisers - although they were of higher tonnage than expected of a cruiser - had pierced the Dregruk EEZ just over six minutes ago. The approach had been very sluggish, staggered in stages; each advance slower than the last, almost as if the journey were being completed by halves, and then halves again. But now the Battlegroup lay spread out over a ninety-mile radius, including both surface and submarinal components; and two CSP units were flying beneath the waves. CSP - carrier submarinal patrol. The G#s were capable of limited 'flight' beneath the waves, and were fitted with torpedoes; they were primarily anti-sub units, and were deployed near the Stubborn Mortal, the warship closest to the Dregruk coastline - just two hundred fifty miles from the nearest point.

The commodore observed from the observation bubble, which was on the 'deck' directly aft of the bridge; beneath his feet was the largest open area on the ship, the hangar deck. Off to the west, currently, was SciOps; and on the deck above them was SensOps. WeapOps was based entirely on the bridge - which was sometimes referred to as the CNC, Command Nerve Centre. Usually the term bridge was used, except when speaking specifically of fleet operations.

But the lead man was no longer the lead man. Semir-randil plotted on the bridge of the mighty warship which the High King himself had designed; and indeed, the commodore was well aware that it was one of very few things that that - in his opinion - great man allowed himself to be proud of. And considering the noble combat record of this class, he had every right to be.

There was no question of defeat. None of the forces arrayed in the Atlantic that were currently considered involved in combative action or potentially deployable to the combative action were sizeable enough, singly, to defeat the flag 'group of the Crown Navy.

Unless, of course, the Navy screwed up. That was always possible, and was the true concern of any of the command staff; mistakes would cost lives, and there was scant support available to the 'group. Despite the Squadron deployed in orbit, they were under orders not to intervene; they were, in effect, an expensive bluff. The Squadron had been intended, the commodore now understood, to merely supply logistical support - not assault or defensive support.

It was a shame. The defensive missiles that the new CCM ([Counter-]counter-measure) frigates carried would have been useful; but their use was
prohibited under the combat guidelines issued by the government. So would their electronic warfare capabilities - but even that was restricted. Presumably, the CSF did not want to reveal to the world the advances that had been made in preventing strikes against the poorly armoured Iluvauromeni spacegoing vessels.

He sighed. What he wouldn't give for the Retribution hovering over them right now, offering a point-defence interlink. It was surprising how one came to depend on the interdependancies of a modern fighting force; the combinatin of space power, air power and naval power was central to the fighting tactics of the new Commonality Crown Guard; land power was almost an afterthought. No mainstream armoured units had been requisitioned for land operations; apparently the Lancers and their high-mobility armoured skycars were enough. 'Skycars' was perhaps a bit too flattering; 'flitters' would be better putting it. They were not elegant craft, designed for silence and speed rather than beauty. He disliked them; all good warships were beautiful, for all truly terrifying events were undeniably beautiful. The raging tornado, the pure milk white form of a mushroom cloud, the vivid reds of a lava flow, the raging torrents of a storm-sundered ocean; beauty and terror and death stalked hand-in-hand, in his mind.

Now, the Battlegroup was under orders to take defensive posture. Offensive arms had been stowed in the primary hull, whilst the defensive grid was entirely in place and armed; in theory, satelite observation would combine with aerial and naval observation, creating an almost foolproof detection envelope. Missiles needed to be detected to be shot down; the envelope was extensive enough at long range, but ships that were closer had a higher chance of scoring hits. But getting close meant approaching over the horizon; and that exposed the enemy to the deadly ballistic artillery of the 'group.

Yet doubt niggled at the back of his mind; Whispering Voices had brought defeat to the Turath Battlegroup not that long ago - so this method of defence was not infallible. Nor could the 'group fire back, if suppressing fire of great enough volume was hurled at it; in short, these vessels had a deadly weakness: if suppressed, they could not fight an offensive engagement - only defensive. And they could be worn down, he knew. The Turath had entered that engagement with her batteries only one-third at capacity; she had been working at 33% efficiency, pretty much. The Vanguard, for example, his thoughts reminded him, having spent alot of energy arriving here, was at 41% total operating efficiency; battery recharge out of port was slow, however, and it would be six weeks - without combat - before the batteries recharged fully. She could not engage at that full capacity seen against the Ardan fleets in the war against the Five Kingdoms of Melkor Unchained; there, she had obliterated an entire fleet with what seemed like mere swats of her mighty hand. But she had been a surprise, then; the enemy had come in too hotheaded, and when the first ships exploded in flame when she was at extreme range, the enemy had no doubt - to some degree at least - panicked.

This wouldn't happen here, the commodore knew. The Dregruk Navy had been fighting the war for a little while now; some of their ships, at least, would surely be 'in the groove'. And their strategy would be more refined, more sharp. He expected much from them; he had little intel regarding their ships to go on, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. No preconceptions; and a warship was a warship: throw kinetics at it and it exploded. Usually.

He sighed, considering the possibilities. Would they advance on the Battlegroup? Would an air assault wing attempt to strike early and hard? He wondered if they had low-altitude guided missiles, such as the French Exocet; those were usually particuarly effective against carriers, but no ICEL ship had ever encountered such an attack. Yet.

He had strong suspicions as to what was to come; he had quietly relayed those suspicions to the High King, who had agreed.

"Definitely," he had nodded with a slow, creeping smile, as if he had known all along and had been considering the best way to deal with the situation, and had gone on to say, "implement whatever you see fit, Commodore."

So he had.

* * *

As the three Tyelca Tuo class air destroyers - although technically 'pocket cruisers', the term air destroyer was still applied to the atmospheric-primed variety of the class - 'withdrew' noisily, the commanding officer of the lead vessel, one Captain Aral Telja gazed at the forward viewing 'visor and sighed. The stars popped into existance, one by one, as the ships approached the uppermost extent of the stratosphere; three successive sonic booms would have, about three minutes ago, been heard along the nearest coast of Dregruk.

The captain sighed not because of the stars, but because of his orders. They were simple, but he did not like them.

Still, it was not his job to like orders given him; it was his job merely to execute them.

"Fuehrer Alucard, your presence is requested at the hospital."
"Yes...Let's be off."
"Yessir."
The new Fuehrer was lead down into a car, and was transported under the uttermost secrecy to a small room on the fourth floor of Mercy Hospital of the new capitol city. He enteres the small room, only to find an ageing man with tubes wrapped around him in a vain effort to preserve his life for a few more moments. Rendering vital organs useless, the bullet would be taking its' final effect in a few moments. He walked over to the dying man, and he spoke aloud with all his courage, "Yes?"
Christopher Thompson replied between coughs of blood and gasps for breath,
"Oh, Christe Alucard, my friend. As you may see, I shall not be on this earth much longer. But a much greater place awaits me, so worry not. There are many things I wish I could have done, despite my age, and you will have to carry them out for me. Before I die, I have only two things to say. The first, always be for the people. Never forget them. And the second, Be Glourious.
Even as my eyesight fails me, I know that all hope is not lost. Please, remember...
"He is dead."
He quietly left the dead man to his peace, and returned to the mansion where he spoke to the Admiral via encrypted phone.
"Yes, the economy will soon be full war-time. I'm going to increase the ammount of workers in the docks to 150% their original ammount, and they will work three eight hour rotating shifts to make all the necessary repairs. When do you think it will be completed, Admiral?"
"Hmmmm..... Hard to tell. I'd say somewhere between three to six days, if we get the army of workers you say we will get."
"Oh, trust me, they'll be there in three hours. At each dock, then the repairs will really start to commence. We'll have this country properly barricaded by morning, and then can start a defensive effort en masse."
"Good."
"Good."...*click*
"Aide!"
"Yes, sir?"
"Get me a direct link with Dregruk. In fact, just broadcast this signal directly to their country on all frequencies, please."
"Yessir, it shall be done."
--5 min. later, the mansion at the office of The Feuhrer--
"Good evening, Dregruk. I have little time for pleasantries, so I will be quick. We have declared war on your nation because the two most disgustingly vile acts on our nation have been commited. In a patheitclly honorless kamikaze attack, you robbed us of our Admiral. He was a national hero, no, a saint to our holy cause of liberation from Pirutler. He is now dead. And just recently, we have been shattered in heart and soul as our Fuehrer, Christopher Thompson, was assasinated, no, slaughtered in the most disgraceful, cowerdly method possible. You have robbed us two-fold in essence of what Christians call Jesus. We have been twice robbed of our saviors, both in the same day even, and now you try to shatter our will. Well, you shall not succeed. Even now, as we speak, an intense fire of roaring passion is being lit in the heart of every citizen, and with it we will grind your unholy, dark and pathetic domain into dust with our most holy and just light of good. We shall salt the earth with your ashes before this war's end. This is vengence, and you will pay one-million fold. You dare challenge our most sacred house, built on blood and honor! I will see you all killed! In the name of Christopher Thompson, Christoph Alexander, and God this war shall be yor death. I would now like to recite to you some guidence which would prove wise for you to follow in the next few days if you wish to live. 'And now, oh Kings, be yea wise. Be admonished, yea Judges of the earth. Serve the Lord with Fear, and Rejoice with Trembling. Kiss the Son, lest he grow Angry, and yea perish in the way, for his Wrath may quickly kindle. Amen.' You had better beg for forgiveness now, because when we crush your hapless navy, set a flame your pitiful army, and obliterate your pitiful air force, when we roll up onto your door-step, there will be no mercy. Your time to Beg for forgiveness is fast approaching its' end, and I suggest you do it now, for when the first shots of this war are fired, reconciliation between us and retribution for your sins shall be impossible. 'In the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit, we shall act as God's own wrath upon the earth, purifying this blessed land, and casting to hell all those who would oppose the word of God. Amen.' All you dirty heathens stand equally in the eyes of God, and shall spend an eternity in Hell burning for it. I shall carry out the wishes of an old friend, and we shall be GLOURIOUS in this war. By making the deaths of our Admiral and Feuhrer, you have wished pain upon yourselves'. Is pain truly your pleasure? It must be. Then I shall grant you your wish. I shall send you to a world where all you will Know is pain! But please, don't let my fun intrude. What are you going to do? Hurry, hurry, HURRY! I'm waiting. Ha ha ha ha HAHAHAHAHA!" *end of transmission*

The Generals sat around the table, listening to the message in silence. When it finished, they each took off their headsets and placed them down on the table.

"Could his claims be true?" Asked one General finally, after a minutes pause. "Could the people of The Holy Empire be even more determined than ever, now that we've killed two national heroes?"

"It's entirely possible... it has been known to happen in the past. However, I suggest we use this advantage we have. This new leader seems almost blinded by his rage against us. If we could provoke him slightly, we could force him to make a mistake. It could even allow us to wipe out large chunks of their armed forces with little effort..."

"That's just speculation, though?"

"Yes. We can't be certain of how he'll react until we test him."

Their convoy had been halted for several days now, neatly concealed amongst buildings that had previously been long term storage warehouses, mostly empty except for junk that people seemed to collect & now they held Plisken’s men, their vehicles and an scarcely controlled desire.
They’d seen soldiers from both sides acting without concern, seen the slaughter & failed to wondered why it was all happening, it was more than just the reaction of their commander that had caused a few discussions but rather that they were skulking around the enemy, breaking contact instead of annihilating everything they came across.

It wasn’t much of a discussion, Plisken agreed with them in most respects, so they didn’t spend much more time inside the warehouses & drove off towards a minor rest area for Falsturian troops which they knew to be relatively unprotected, most of the soldiers there were fatigued, wounded & lacking immediate supplies though the latter situation could change the first two would not.

* * *
They left the vehicles at the warehouses, rigged with all sorts that had been around & quantity of military grade explosives, enough to bring the building down around anyone who happened to be in an inquisitive mood. The resulting explosions would make sure that anyone within twenty metres of the place would be picking shrapnel out of their body for some time.

Approaching from the rear & one side of the encampment they encountered no resistance, those who were fit enough to stand guard duty had been largely recruited as stretcher bearers or were simply to fatigued from the intensity of combat to stay alert. In total perhaps fifty people were capable of stopping the attack or at least giving a good account of themselves, of that number half were busy with other duties and had no weapon to hand whilst a quarter found themselves to exhausted to remain awake, the rest were cut down as they struggled to deal with envelopment of their camp.

A supposed safe zone for them to relax for a few days.

The first rounds from the teams grenade launchers struck the ambulances, in hours to come the wrecks would still be burning & a shimmering light they would cast upon the results of the unfolding events, then the first bullets began to strike men down & only then did the teams enter the encampment fully, stretcher bearers rushed out of tents only to be cut down violently.
One of the surgical team peered out of a tent his apron red with blood of others & then suddenly soaked with his own, as he fell the front of the tent was pulled agape & inside lay helpless soldiers who could no more force a smile let alone escape, fight or offer even insults. Plisken walked amongst the aisle between cheap cots that bore twitching, bleeding, groaning burdens yet not once did he stop to look away or pause upon a plea but he did leave the tent safe in the knowledge that it would be consumed by fire.

As the team looted what they could from the dead the largest of the tents was ripped by an explosion, avoiding shrapnel only due to the words of their commander “Get down!” he had bellowed only moments before as he’d been seen to throw something in to the tent behind him & then he’d dashed off himself before diving for cover amongst the battered corpses he’d caused to be slain.

They left quickly, the sounds & smells reaching at them when they turned their backs to seek new shelter amongst a landscape that had taken a decidedly hostile appearance in their eyes.

Meanwhile, in The Holy Empire...
--The Docks--
If one were to some how sneak past the Titanium doors that were sealed that guarded the docks that were embeded in the solid rock, they would have been able to describe it in one word: Productivity. The docks were alive with the cracks (sound effect) of welding in damaged ships, the pounding of rivets into new assets, and a general controlled chaos of repairs and building going on everywhere. They only time it would stop is when the exhausted workers, who had all voluntered (but were well paid, of course) to be sealed in the docks and work the 8 hour daily shifts went to bed, and a new horde came in to replace their weary companions. The Admiral had never seen such production from his citizens before, he was pleasently suprised; the navy would be ready for full deployment in 4 (NS) days, despite the damages tht it had incurred. It seemed impossible, but if all went well, it would happen.
--The Invasion Batteries--
The Five Long-range Anti-invasion Batteries were humming and bristling with activity, with the public and the naval workers on each island (each island has a dock and a battery) blissfully unaware of their existance. They armed their systems, and took shifts on full battle alertness. They only hoped that they enemy didn't know of their existance, as it would proof quite a destrucive force to any enemy surface or air combatants moving blissfully unaware to the coasts.
--The Nation in general, especially among military bases and large coastal cities--
The nction prepared for war, as barracades were errected, and men were placed...The tactical advantage for the enemy to attack during a national state of crisis and weakness would be fully removed as soon as the navy was repaired. But until then, coastal defenses and the Island batteries would have to do...

--In Dock Number 1--
"Sir," The Admiral said, "The mining is complete. We have decent mine fields set up all the way through out the country's waters. Any ships that move thriugh without knowing their locations can expect moderate loss, and it will give subs' positions away who are hit by them."
"Very good, Admiral Alexander."
"Yessir, Fuehrer, but Vice-Admiral Keyes brought up a good point at my last meeting with him."
"Which was?"
"Just leaving the subs out there is a bad idea, sir. If they don't have suprise, they can expect heavy loses. I suggest we pull the subs into the harbours, and let the enemy make the first move."
"But then we have no defense against troop-carrying subs, they can land right on our shores, and we can't fire at them until then!"
"I know, but in a few days, our entire navy will be back online, and then we can deploy everything. I know it leaves us weak for a few days, but I would reccomend it. Our defenses on shore and the batteries-"
"ADMIRAL! This is only a secure link! Not encrypted, someone could have this tapped!"
"Sorry, sir. Well, you know what I mean, though."
"Yes yes, I understand.....Alright, pull the subs in, have them tendered, restocked and have the men rest in warm beds. They need to re-coup as well as any other man here."
"Yessir! For the good of The Holy Empire!"
"For the good of The Holy Empire!" *click*.....Man, I can't believe he'd make such an amatuer error. For Christ's sake, ANYONE could have this line tapped, including the enemy! Oh well, nothing he could do about it now. He kind of felt bad though, the odds of having the line tapped, although possible, were miniscule at best. Or so he thought...

In the war room of the Military Command, an operator on the headsets sat up straight in his chair and began scribbling furiously on a pad of paper next to him. The wiretapping operation in The Holy Empire was beginning to reap some pretty major dividends.

"Sirs! I think you should read this..." He said, as he approached the Generals' table.

One of them grunted and took the paper, his eyebrows arching when he began reading the content.

"So... there's a hole in their defenses for the next few days?"

"What?! Give me that!" Said another in amazement, grabbing the transcript.

"Holy mother of Flanjoo..." He muttered. "So now what do we do?"

Once the transcript had been passed around the table, the Generals leaned forward to the map of The Holy Empire that a spy-plane had managed to produce.

"I say we go on this. It could be a trap, but the possibility of an undefended attack is far too good an opportunity to miss. I say we have a full naval and aerial bombardment of these..." He said, stabbing the map with his bony finger, "...while we slip a dozen or so subs in here. If possible, we could cause some chaos around their docks, but we lack the information to know whether or not such an act is possible."

"What about troops? We should try and make some landings ASAP."

"This area here... it's called 'Poundton', if I remember correctly. I believe it's the paradise of their nation. Lush jungles and the like. Probably a good number of wealthy citizens there too, which would shake up the whole country if an invasion should take place. I'm thinking... Deathjaw's Cobras?"

"It's their turf..." Acknowledged another. "And they're about the best we could use."

"Then it's final. Have the fleet that's on their way to The Holy Empire informed of the new plan. And have the Cobras ready for landings in this... 'Poundton' place."

(OOC: The Deathjaw Cobras are members of the Dregruk Elites (The best of the best from the army and intelligence agency) who were trained specifically for jungle warfare. Not wet behind the ears recruits, but not supermen either. Just a heads-up.)

From in front of the Falasturian fleet, the Dregrukian fleet suddenly exploded into smoke and flame. Missile after missile arced into the sky, curving irregular and looping paths before finding the nearest target to them. Anti-air missiles shot up, giving pilots little chance to eject countermeasures before going into evasive manoeuvres. The sky lit up with tiny, twinkling flashes as flaring countermeasures shot out from the bays of fighters, creating a daytime sky of constellations, punctuated by the swift blare and disappearances as fighters turned into balls of flame as they sustained hits. As the smoke clouds rolled away from the Dregrukian ships, the countermeasures either destroyed or landing with small plumes of water into the sea, the devastation could be seen. The water was littered with remains, and the sky above was black with the smoke of impacted explosives. Observers stood watching in awe at the scene, the destruction truly enveloping.

However, in seconds their attention snapped back to the moment as a swarm of anti-ship missiles headed in towards their targets. Many descended upon the ships of Christopher Thompson, but many many more overflew them, heading for various targets in the Falasturian fleet. Without a word, suddenly it was time for the Falasturians' repetition of the massive missile launch. All around the fleet, anti-missile missiles launched spontaneously as they targeted Dregrukian ordinance and prepared to take action. Onboard computers calculated vectors, firing in response. Gatling guns turned, firing like crazy at anything in range. The sky filled with hundreds of explosions, visions impaired by the massive fog of smoke from the engines of the missiles, the whiteness lit up continuously by explosions. The cumulative sound roared out, almost deafening as explosion after explosion rang out over the water. The sky was awash with yellow flames and black smoke as the missiles found their targets, whether missile or ship. A number of ships burst into spontaneous showers of flame and debris as missiles found their targets, some shrugging off the damage, armoured plates unaffected, while others listed dangerously or left gaping holes in their sides. In seconds, it was over. Or so it seemed. Rookie sailors thanked the Heavens that they had survived or cried in pain, while the more experienced sailors fearfully ran for better cover.

A thrumming roar grew as the final wave of the Dregrukian suicide attack sounded - the Dregrukian Fleet Air Arm racing inwards to launch kamikaze attacks on Falasturian ships. There was a period of nervous anticipation, before the anti-air batteries went crazy once more. Falasturian technology had been developed to fight this kind of attack, yet nothing ever went entirely to plan, and the wave of missiles only seconds before had depleted many stores of missiles. Cluster rockets and AA missiles fired out into the sky, Falasturian pilots firing last salvos of air-to-air missiles at the fleeing enemy before turning tail and attempting to get out of the line of the colossal volley erupting from the Falasturian Fleet. Once again the sky filled with explosions, but the human brain was faster than the electronics on the missiles, and the Dregrukians took erratic courses and fired their own countermeasures as the braved the storm. Once again, gatling guns turned and fired at will, the sky filling with hundreds of yellow tracer lines. The cloud of fighters grew quickly closer, a tide of explosions surging toward the fleet as the suicidal pilots prepared to give to their enemy what their country demanded they give - they gave a huge sacrifice in lives for a huge loss of life. And then the tide was upon them. Sailors threw themselves to the decks as jet fighters powered their way into the ships of the fleet. At speeds beyond the speed of sound, aircraft penetrated hulls in balls of flame, ripping great tears in the plating of the warships, making their sides seem like fabric. Smaller ships could be seen with much smaller holes appearing on the far side, where the remains of planes had managed to puncture the whole beam of the ship. Some ships suffered magasine storage penetrations, whole sections of the ship bursting into flame and almost vaporising much of the hulls. Sailors streamed out into the warm water in lifeboats or as they were, seeking shelter from the immense heat and flames of the attack. The damage was awesome, but finally the attack was over. Some ships went end up before beginning a slow descent towards the sea floor that could only be half a mile beneath them. Yet despite the ferocity of the barrage, still the majority of Falasturian ships remained, although those without damage could be counted on one hand. Surviving ships careened around, picking up survivors and attempting to salvage listing ships. The situation finally stabilised. A tiny remainder of the Dregrukian Fleet sat, finally exhausted from the battle. Anyone surviving on the ships, as well as any surviving ships, would soon be in Falasturian control. The battle had been devastating, but it had been won.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

5 days later

From his position in an entrenched makeshift fortifications, Captain Hadejeras looked westwards towards the coast of Crealir where the entire Falasturian forces in Crealir were retreating. As the Dregrukian forces moved steadily and mightily towards them, the Falasturians could only retreat. And now they had come to the sea. There was one chance left, and they were taking it.

Looking out over the crystal blue sea, Hadejeras gazed in awe over the vast array of ships making chaotic patterns across the waters. Over two hundred Falasturian Navy ships were standing escort in the area, but their number was petty compared to the mass of with more relaying converted liners and other requisitioned civilian and merchant ships to nearby Falasturian territories. Still more naval ships ferried convoys of ships, ever keeping them safe from an enemy that was all but gone since the destruction of a Dregrukian fleet off the coast of Crealir not a week ago. As hundreds of thousands of Falasturians made their way by sea to places where they could recoup, recover from their losses, and plan to return, they were joined by an ever-growing stream of civilians, private ships of all shapes and sizes filled with the bravest citizens, who would train with the military, who would attempt their own heroic counter-attacks later, or who simply refused to live under Dregrukian occupation. For weeks the Falasturian retreat had been hampered by huge amounts of citizens, refugees in their own country, who clogged the major roads in their desperate attempts to flee. More than one had called this the Falasturian Dunkirk.

It had all passed so quickly. Not so long ago, Hadejeras had been fighting the invaders as they landed their craft on the beaches, had been fighting his way into the enemy, making them wish they had never come. Now, several hundred miles from that first landing site, he could only watch as several Corps fled, nowhere left to go. There had been dramatic, courageous, foolhardy last stands, but each had failed. Some had resulted in the surrender of entire Falasturian Divisions, others had simply resulted in less Falasturians coming home. Failure to suppress the Dregrukian invasion was obvious, but thanks to the mass-evacuation, the fate of the war still seemed up in the air.

A further 8 days later

Days passed as troops evacuated the continent, the number of Falasturians remaining diminshed, and ever the small area the Falasturians held diminished, the defenders holding out as long as they could. Patrols by Falasturian fighters dried up as airfields were captured, the squadrons taking all the equipment they could before making for the nearest friendly airbase, across the seas. Finally, after almost a week, Hadejeras received orders to fall back. Carrying out the fighting retreat that his company had learned so well in recent times, the Captain borded one of the last transports, only a small carrier fleet remaining to escort it and a small few other units away. As the ships left their docks, setting off towards the great expanse of sea, Dregrukians could be seen flooding down towards the beaches and ports where the Falasturians had so recently been, perusing abandoned equipment, planting flags, asserting their authority. It was done. Crealir had been lost, and all Hadejeras could do was watch his homeland disappear over the horizon.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Around the same time

Several resounding knocks sounded from the great oak doors barring entrance to the meeting chamber, where the Falasturian Imperial Grand Council were sat, debating issues of the war. Every head in the 100-strong group turned to face the doors, but as the Emperor, although still only a minor yet still a headstrong and dominating presence, breathed in and readied to order the unknown person disturbing the meeting to leave, the doors flew open. A young Officer from the Imperial Guard, his ceremonial musket wrecklessly slung over a shoulder in a sign of his frantic rush to reach the room, burst in, running towards the Emperor's throne and throwing himself onto his knees before it. Other Imperial Guard rushed forward to drag the intruder out, and the Emperor prepared to let out a bellow of outrage, when the Guard spoke in a breathless and hurried voice, the wheezing amplified with the message by the Emperor's microphones. "Crealir has been lost."

With those four words, there was suddenly silence. The Guard approaching the intruder stopped in their tracks. Various Councillors and Guardsmen, shouting at the Officer to leave immediately, closed their mouths, and those who had risen in protest dropped back to their seats. For almost a minute, noone moved, then finally, the Emperor stood from his seat, his ermine robe brushing past the Officer as his quick pace took him down the small steps from his seat towards the exit. In seconds he was gone, a few Councillors by the door observing a tear rolling down his cheek as he left. The chamber descended into debate, argument and anguish.

--Hetlak Military Shipyards--

"What do you mean, lost?!" Crackled the voice over the radio.

"I mean what I said, sir. An enemy team infiltrated the base, boarded the prototype and escaped with it, sir." Replied Captain Johannson, who was one of the few Elites who hadn't been hit by the escaping Ramship's machine-gun.

Heads were going to roll.

--Dregruk Military Command--

"So... we control it? All of it?" Asked a General, for the 5th time.

"Yes, all our units on the sub-continent of Crealir reports victories en masse. We also have reports of a mass evacuation and retreat from all military and civilian personnel. We've won."

"We've won the battle, not the war, son." Replied an older General. "Right now, we should be thinking about consolidating our grip on Crealir, have artillery and missiles set up to start hitting more of these sub-continents. And I don't think I need to remind you about our pending invasion of The Holy Empire..."

Lights on the horizon behind them twinkled and faded to nothingness. The coastline, shrouded in darkness shrank into the distance, and finally it was over. The prototype Ramship had passed its first test - it had outgunned and outmanoeuvred the defenses of Hetlak. The ruins of several coastal defense craf now lay in the Bay, testament to the strength of the ship against craft its size. The explosive ram on the front was testament in itself to the ship's threat to capital ships. It was showing signs of being exactly the prodigy that it had been made out to be. Naval High Command would be most pleased.

McGregor studied the maps laid out in front of him. The Ramship may have escaped largely undamaged from its first challenge, but waves off the Dregrukian coast were often heavy, and one act of carelessness could send the whole thing to the ocean bed. A rusty creak sounded behind the Ops on the bridge. Heads turned quickly around as the two men who had manned the guns entered the bridge from their posts, before returning to the way they were facing before. Simon, who had skilfully manned the machine-gun, broke the silence as he drew up beside McGregor and stared out the front viewport.

"Where are we headed, Sir?"

"I've been pondering that one for a while now. There is a Falasturian Naval base only 800 nautical miles to the south-west, but it involves going through a passage of rough waters. So instead we're going here..." McGregor indicated a small Falasturian territory which was home to a small fleet, and a large commercial port. "It's around 1,200 miles away. With constant travel and no problems, we should get there in under two days. Then we get supplies, and head directly to the Falastur Island Group. The Dregrukians will likely be sending ships out to find us, but we are faster than capital ships, and they have no way of knowing where we're heading once we're out of sight. We'll be home in a matter of days, and when we get home, we'll be heroes."[/i]

The crew looked at each other and smiled. They had completed the hardest part of their task. Now they just needed to get to friendly territory and let the Navy put their spoils to good use.

The Calm Before The Storm - The Last Seven Days

The last seven days had been silent for ICEL, with regards the Dregruk Conflict. Indeed, it had seemed almost as if nothing at all had happened; the air assets sent to Falastur had been withdrawn when the Crown Guard Tactical and Strategic Assessment Unit set up to oversee the 'war' had decided Falastur was nothing but a lost cause that would cost needless casualties to hold - at this time.

Instead, a new plan had been drawn up. Quietly, and not without the notice of some of the more observant and sharper eyes in the international intelligence community, the Crown Air Force re-arranged itself. It was a smooth, rapid process; some three hundred military aircraft were always in the sky above the Commonality at any one time anyway, and so moving three hundred aircraft a day was not really particuarly noticeable. What was noticeable was that those aircraft were not returning to their launching base, but arriving elsewhere.

The six Primary Airbases and Airfields were a hive of activity the last three days of this week of activity. But the activity was unseen by eyes above, as it all took place beneath the ground, in the massive hangars in which the CAF now housed its might.

And on the day before today, all went silent. Until...

2:00 am - the sky

The sky above the portion of the Bay of Turath marked as 'the Bay of Turath Military Staging Area' - which is a fairly obvious name in truth - was full of aircraft. Crowds had gathered along the coastline to stare up at a sky full of stars; white, bright, shining stars. And each of them vanishing higher into the sky until they vanished...

But out over the Atlantic, nearly an hour later, sonic booms of usually unheard-of intensity startle sealife close to the surface, sending them scattering down to whatever depth they can manage to evade the vibrations which, for only a few moments, shudder through the ocean.

The booms wash out behind the massive air group, which could not, cannot, will not evade detection. For it is too big to be unseen, too massive to be unnoticed - too damned loud to be unheard.

Nearly a thousand strike bombers, fifteen hundred interceptors and seven hundred fighters roared their way across the Atlantic with a date with destiny: a date with Dregruk.

[OOC: This represents fully one third of my airforce, and um. Yes.]

--Dregruk Military Command--

"I've got incoming! All over the place!" Yelled radio operators as more and more "blips" appeared across their screens. "Holy crap, there's got to be over a thousand hostiles!"

"What?!" Shouted a General, who jumped to his feet and scrambled over to the radar screens. "This can't be right! There's no way that many planes could be coming at us!"

"Sir, we're getting visual confirmations all over the place!"

"I want everything that can hit a plane to be armed and ready!"

--Near The Holy Empire--

The invasion fleet moved into position, grinding to a halt miles from various coastlines. They stayed still for moments, before a single word was sent out: "Fire."

Suddenly, the ships let loose a deafening roar of cannon fire, as they let loose their vicious payload onto the coasts of The Holy Empire.

(OOC: Sorry for the smallish post, but a hangover's a bitch)

The air battlegroup - spread out over many hundreds of miles of sky, both at high altitudes and with a force hugging the ocean - slowed before piercing Dregruk airspace...

And then just...

Stopped.

Each and every aircraft simply stops. Ceases movement. Quickly, too - the pilots must have pulled at least -9 or -10g for several long seconds in order to halt their motion that quickly. Which, presumably, would hurt.

Air Admiral Sukara Dejure, sister-daughter to the noted Ambassador Dejure, allowed herself a grin. It didn't hurt at all, really - this perfluorocarbon gunk took care of that. She sighed - gurgled - and scritched her chin before flitting fingers over the EM console. A voice informed her - clearly, despite the gunk - that communications systems were now fully online.

They had been offline on the way in. There had been no chatter between pilots. No radio contact with home.

Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zero. Zilch. Quet. Tar.

Nothing.

It had almost been painfully silent, she reflected. Annoyingly silent. But this was not a 'scare tactic' - the usual reason for deployment. This was something far more serious. Yet her orders-

She grinned. She would enjoy this.

She spoke-

* * *

Attention! Attention!

The Glorious Iluvauromeni Commonality of Everlasting Light hereby issues the following statement to Dregruk.

Cheese is best on toast or on a pizza. Three yellow cats in a home are not always best left alone. The dog which seeks its master on a green field does not find that which it does not seek.

A house on fire is not wet. Two trees are not always similar, but one tree is always identical to itself. Thirteen goats on a farm tend to find flinging muck is an affront to goatical ethics...

The voice drones on for around thirty minutes. Every sentence is utterly meaningless - and then...

...and, as the current militant invasions carried out by Dregruk are roughly as logical as the whole of the preceding statements made before this point, the Commonality orders Dregruk to stand down all military activity, or we will find it necessary to act in the interests of the People of Dregruk. Clearly the Government of Dregruk is no longer capable of ensuring the safety and sovereignty of the Great People of Dregruk, and so we shall forthwith provide the oppurtunity for the People to select/elect/determine a new government/a new leading group/their future path.

Any attack on the formation of aircraft currently engaging in peaceful exercises over the Atlantic Ocean will be seen as an irrevocable act of war and will be met with the full force of the Armed Forces.

You have five hours to decide. Do not be late.

-- Dug in ground forces underground command, near coastline--
"Sir!" A radio operator beamed.
"Yes, what is it son?" A General shot back. The General and operator met faces about fifteen feet in the well lit room, near the center.
"Monolith one and two both confirm enemy shelling has begun!"
The General rubbed his chin, as if he was thinking..."Right, prepare the forces, have them all take cover!"
"Yessir!" The operator ran back to his seat and started shouting out orders for the soldiers to enter the holes and small cave-like structures that the demolition teams had blown out for them. Hopefully they would keep enough of them alive.....
--Monolith One--
"Sir, we have recieved transmission from unidentified source on open channel."
"What?! Patch it through."
The radio operator nodded, then set to work on his computer, punching in various commands. In a few brief seconds the main speakers blurted out a single sentense: "This is Razgriz to Monolith. The Red Dog has come out to play."
The General smiled, no grinned, ear to ear.
"What does it mean, sir?" The operatoy looked perplexed, it seemed to make no sense at all.
But only to seven men did it make any sense; infact, to them it made perfect sense. It meant that they were going to war. "Get me a thin-band direct encrypted link to Monolith 2, now! I don't care if the enemy knows somone is transmitting. And bring us to full battle alert!"
Sirens blared, and the lights dimmed as they were taken over by their red brothers that signaled war.
"*kzzt*This is Monolith 2, roger,*kzzt*"
"*kzzt*Monolith 2, we need you to launch 5 TASSM at each of the 16 ships, over and out.*kzzt* All hands, ready the same salvo. We're going to strike them from both sides, North and South at the same time."
"Sir, Multiple Cruise missles launching from Monolith 2!"
"Wait for it. I want our salvos to strike at precisely the same time. Wait until the missles close the time gap." They waited, in complete silence for what seemed an eternity. After 10 minutes, what seemed like 10 days to all in the fortress, the General gave the order. "Fire!"
Missles cam careening out of their tubes and made tight arcs in the air as the swept down toward the earth, and pulled up at the last second. They all made their headings for their programmed targets. The enemy ships would face a simultaneous attack from 5 missles on either side. They were hopeless.
The General picked up the microphone and cut the encryption so the enemy could hear: "*kzzt*When will you learn? We are not going to simply give up. You shall all persish here. By the order of the Fuehrer. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. Amen.*kzzt*"

--Coastline of the Holy Empire--

The Captains of each of the ships in the fleet heard the message, just as the radar showed incoming missiles en masse. Onboard one ship, the Captain turned to the sonar operator, and said, "...we're screwed, aren't we?"

A few seconds later, the ship was blown to pieces.

--Dregruk Military Command--

The Generals were gathered around a loudspeaker, listening to the radio message intently. "I'm certain it's some sort of code."

A silence.

"...You can't have your cake and eat it? Well I'll be damned..." Said one, getting a tired, "Oh shut up." From the others.

When the message reached the actually sense-making ending, the Generals sat in stunned silence. "An election?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Isn't that part of that... demm-oh-crass-ie stuff?"

"Mmm hmm."

Another silence.

"When was the last time we had one of those?"

"Erm... some time in the 15th century, I think. It never really caught on."

"Can we do what we usually do in these situations?" Asked one General. "Pretend it never happened, then put anyone who says different in an asylum?"

"We could try, I suppose... but we could face mass riots. People like being allowed to choose stuff."

"Well, we've got five hours to come up with an idea. Start thinking."

--The Beachhead of The Holy Empire--
"Barrage incoming! Take Cover!" Those were the last words that the radio officer of Team 32 said as he ran out of his tent to inform his comrades-in-arms. A barrage of shells blanketed the area of the entire beachhead only seconds later. Men scattered, abandoning their stations and ran for their underground cover as fast as possible. But for most, it was too late. The fortified positions were rittled with shells and missles, men were ripped to pieces and all over the place Central Command was registering Helmet Computer COM Links being erased from the helmet computers in every soldier as the computers commited suicide to keep the enemy from recieving the encrypted channels. The KIAs were mounting in the thousands.
"Move it, now!" The company commander said as he rushed men underground. A shell impacted not 80 feet from where he was when he got the warning, and he was thrown on his face in a bloody mess. He blacked-out instantly as he was dragged underground.
--HQ--
"Goddammit!" Was all General Nikanor could say as the KIAs came ringing in. We create fortified structures enough to make Normandy look like a plain, and embed men in them in the thousands and our efforts are stopped, no Reversed by a few shells?! How could we make such a foolish error! We were promised that the enemy invasion force would be Wiped Out before they could do this!...No matter, we'll just have to pull ourselves up by the bootstraps. The General ran his hands through his hair and took a moment to think...Alight Gentlemen, here's what we're going to do. How many men do we have left on the beachhead? He turned to a man carrying a manilla folder. He whisked it away from him and read it's contents. "Two-thousand men. Eight-thousand dead already. Fuck. Okay. Well, Napolean was once countered with such a problem. His Generals were making their lines too thin in an effort to protect the entire country. To such a tactic, he replied "Why be weak everywhere? Pick a spot to be stron in, and pray that the enemy goes there first." We'll trrust Napolean. Regroup our forces in the center of the beachhead to return barracade three to full capacity, now. We'll send in re-enforcements ASAP. The Fortified positions should still be at least useable for the remaining forces. It'll take at least a day, though. I want vehicles and tanks as well as men airlifted in the Jungles 30 miles behind our beachhead. Tell them to make their new line there. We'll make new barracades, temporary bases, and then we'll retreat the remaining beachhead forces there. Make it happen, Gentlemen."
Meanwhile this all happened, more than a dozen troop carrying subs converged and prepared to make their landing on The Holy Empire...

The Great Debating Hall, Imperial Sociologists Guild Prime Building, Nenya, Iluvauromen, ICEL

"And so it is to be still the suggestion of this Guild that the current path be kept to?"

Semir-randil's voice rang out clearly inside the massive domed 'arena', almost as if he belonged here; indeed, he had once been Chosen of the Guild, but now was simply a visitor.

The current Chosen of the Guild - an ancient Nenya approaching his three hundredth year, with bowed body and general air of decay - boomed out (his voice had never been less than strong), "The Guild is never unified in message, Majesty, yet we still see this path as the only one which may work. Dregruk has no wish for democracy. This is why it is imperative that the thought of it be planted in their minds; more critically, it is a distracting measure.

"When a society is without democracy, it is stronger. More unified, nationally, against outsiders. With democracy comes many weaknesses, despite the strengths of the system, and so it is when democracy is spoken of. Rukemia is an excellent example. Our efforts to implement a truly democratic state there ended in naught but disaster. It is a scientific fact that democracy can only develop wholly - wholly, in all parts! - naturally - or it is doomed to failure. This is why all fully democratic states inevitably fail."

Another Guild member promptly stood, bowed elegantly, and spoke in a soft voice that could easily be termed 'persuasive'. She was Human, however, with startling blue eyes and shockingly red hair - a rarity indeed.

"If I may? - There is then an overall difficulty when introducing democracy. The inherant requirement of natural development is such that, in all likelihood, a state pushed towards democracy will tend towards the unpredictable and chaotic - the two are not, of course, mutually exclusive, I add - and as a result, a shift in government (if not in ideology) is, in many cases, inevitable.

"If we consider Dregruk; Dregruk, we are well aware, has tasted democracy. They found the taste bitter, it is to be suspected, for they have cast it off. This is the prime reason why this Guild strongly suggested this course of action; to give the People but one choice would not, in itself, be democratic. Thus a multitude of choices are advisable. This is also the need for the time limit - scaling of crisis is important, as the Human psyche, in particular, appears to require such scaling to allow full comprehension.

"The mere existance of the democratic option is inherantly strengthened, in its turn, by the democratic nature of the choice. Thus the missive favours democracy without overtly suggesting that is indeed the case, but, to introduce the normal double-binds in such a scenario," and laughter, soft and tinkling, swept the Guild at that notion, "it also allowed us to suggest that democracy was the only option. After all, if one places the choice at the doors of the People, it is democracy by definition - but the choicing of words is imperative. We did not mention the word. Nor did we speak of the Dregruk government in a position of importance, which is also critical."

"As I understand," Semir-randil began slowly - although he understood most of this prior to the visit, of course - and carefully, "the purpose is not to introduce chaos or instability, but to enforce stability and harmony, yes?"

"No."

The answer was rapid, but the tone was unmistakable: faint derision. Semir wondered at that, but had no time to continue to do so, for if the spoken word was rapid, then the speaker wasted no time to allow thought to interfere in his listeners minds.

"It is imperative that chaos be introduced internally," the young male - Nenya male - went on, speaking swiftly and assuredly, "in order that it is displayed that Dregruk was always inherantly unstable. The population will, in fact, be well aware of that fact. They will no doubt be expecting instability; their lack of reaction to the war is, in my opinion, an expression of this. By introducing chaos, we threaten their way of life without overtly doing so - presuming that the entirety of the plan is accurately carried through and wholly completed in the allotted time - and by doing that, we force change where otherwise none would occur."

The booming, older voice now arises once again, and, as ever, respect is commanded. Heads swivel to the source, and every nose bar one is carefully manoeuvred into a slightly downwards posture - eyes thus uplifted.

"Nothing is ever certain. We can now but wait. I suspect this situation will surprise us all; sociology is not, and possibly will never be, an exact science. We play with fire, ladies and gentleman. Let us be prepared to stand well back, therefore - lest we be burned."

Dreg., plz go to the website in my sig and check out the map I've made to explain some stuff.

(OOC: After consulting some RPers far greater than I, I've decided that if we leave this running the way it is, it'll eventually peter out and die. Therefore, here's a nice big summary of everything that was about to happen, and we'll skip forward to the big finale (Which for storyline purposes, is very important to my country and any RPs I'll be doing in the future.)

As the Dregruk war machine began its attack on The Holy Empire, the gears were beginning to come loose at home. As the message from ICEL circulated the nation, more and more citizens demanded free elections. The Government, in an attempt to regain control of a rapidly deteriorating situation, declared martial law, having fully armed soldiers patrol the streets.

However, the actions by the Government only caused more people to demand the Right to Vote. By this time, it had become clear to the protestors that peaceful means would not work on a Government founded on the basis of aggression. Militant groups began acts of vandalism, assault, arson and (in outer areas of the nations) assassination. The only area that seemed unafffected by the mass riots and violence was the nation's capital, Ghastopol, where the vast Government presence crushed any thought of rebellion.

As the invasion continued in The Holy Empire, less troops were able to be brought up than was needed, as the Government commited more and more of the army to peacekeeping and policing duties inside the nation. The rising nationalism in the conquered North Lotusland was viewed as a threat, but was largely ignored by a Government trying to save its own skin. Eventually, the invasion force in The Holy Empire was surrounded and destroyed, putting up a last stand against an enemy of far greater numbers.

The Falasturian counter attack on occupied Crealir couldn't have come at a better time, hitting the under-manned and under-equipped forces with lightning speed and efficiency. In less than 2 days, the entire sub-continent was cleared of Dregruk presence, along with the genocidal war criminal Colonel Nathan Carthage.

With its best armies obliterated, the Government realised that offensive measures were now denied of it, and it was firmly on the defensive. With the Governments continued refusal to hold elections, the population was stirred into a greater frenzy, causing further damage to the Government. With their set deadline long since passed, the ICEL air battlegroup commenced attacks upon military facilities around Dregruk, crippling any chance of further aggression (OOC: Hope you don't mind, Ma-Tek).

By this time, combined forces from Christopher Thompson and Falastur had made unopposed landings on the nation, and were spearheading towards the last remaining obstacle in Dregruk's downfall; the Capital itself, Ghastopol.

--10 miles Outside the Capitol City of Dregruk--
"We have clear clear all that?!"
"Yes private, I know..." His superior didn't like it either. The buildings flew high into the sky, past their line of sight before the clouds on this overcast day whisked the tops of the buildings away. The lush, green warm jungles of Poundton had changed into the harsh, cold, and unforgiving concrete of Dregruk. One problem they had not had, however, was that of the locals. All the way through their advance into Dregruk, they had faced no resistance of any kind. The people had even been helpful, sheltering them occasionally and giving them food when their shipment planes had been shot down. 'It was strange', he thought, but it didn't matter. They only had one stronghold left to clear...
"Seargent!"
The man previously in thought whipped around as he saw General Nikanor and his superior standing behind him. He almost pissed his pants when he saw the four stars on the General's shoulders, and snapped to attention.
"At ease. We need you to escort a small vehicle and tank force moving in sector Charlie Omega. Can you do it?"
'Can I do it?! It's a GENERAL! Hell YES I can!' "Yessir!"
"Good."
--General HQ of Operation Holy Might (Dregruk Invasion)--
The HQ in charge of the Invasion of Dregruk was stationed approx. 10 miles outside from Dregruk. It was made of solid concrete, and although it was small and uncomfertable, it contained all the necessary elements to wage an effective war. Inside were radio operators, and the General's most trusted aids. He had just returned, and was spelling out the plan he had prepared to his aids.
"Alright, here's what we do. We are currently set up on the (WHICHEVER SIDE WE INVADED FROM) end of the capitol. We are execting fierce resistance from pro-military citizens who still believe the propoganda Dregruk has been spewing, and from the remaining military, which is expected to be their elites. This is no joke, gentlemen. These men are the SS of the enemy, and we have to do urban combat on their hometown."
"But aren't the troops all trained in urban combat?"
"Yes, and we have all the breecher (specialty in urban combat) soldiers here as well, but that doesn't mean it's going to be easy. We're going to make a full front offensive tommorow at 0600. We'll enter here, here and here," General Nikanor pointed to three major highways leading into the capitol. " and then once we've secured them, we'll start breeching all the buildings of enemy forces and continue moving up. We're going to split our forces into sizes of 10 tanks, 10 Combat vehicles 20 breechers, 5 snipers, 5 explosive experts, and 20 regulars. The breechers will clear buildings, snipers provide cover and scan ahead, explosives experts will clear obsticles and clear heavy resistance and the regulars will guard the tanks and vehicles. The forces will split into groups like this and move up the streets in the city block by block. Is this clear?"
He got nothing but nods and 'Yessir's from around the room.
"Right, you know what we say gentlemen, 'make it happen'."

--Dregruk Military Command, deep under Ghastopol, 0300 hours--

(OOC: A note; please have time in the start of the post for full cinematic effect)

The Generals sat around the table, maps spilling over its sides, empty coffee mugs strewn randomly and torn up sheets of paper was the habitat of the large oak table. Every man's hair was standing on end in random places, a strange phenomenon that's a direct result of prolonged leaning on a sweaty hand. Every man's uniform had lost its splendor, the formal jacket discarded around the backs of their chairs, the tie loosened as if the extra oxygen would make the situation resolve itself. Every man jumped to attention and saluted in a panic when they heard a gruff voice say, "What the hell have you morons done?"

Standing in front of the door to the bunker was the man-mountain of Grimzag Deathjaw, Dregruk's Warchief, and the best soldier the country had ever seen. Standing at 6 feet and 9 inches, he looked more like a human tank than a person. "You put me into a re-training course, then start a major campaign?! Which you've screwed up badly, I see."

"Sir, you were to be re-trained because... well, you're getting slower, sir. We can't risk having you killed in any situation."

"I've made a few mistakes in the exercises. So what? I'm still the best we've got. Hence the reason I'm helping with the defence." A General opened his mouth to protest, "No arguments, if you want to keep your bollocks." It snapped shut.

The tank's controls then became active. Captain Jahn then got on the horn to all the other units involved. "Ladies and Gentlemen, listen up!" Everyone that was previously loitering to the people next to them suddenly stopped and men started up their tanks to listen in. "Alright, now that I've got your attention we'll continue." He still heard someone whispering. He muted the COM and requested a direct link to the person still talking. A few seconds later, he recieved it."Excuse me, Private Jones, are you finished? Can I speak now?" The startled soldier immediately stopped and gave a large "Yessir, sorry sir!"
He then cut that link and un-muted the original. "Okay, we've got green light ladies and gentlemen, you've all been briefed on what to do, make it happen."
Hoo-ha's and Yessir's rang clear over the encrypted COM as the groups were made and they began to infiltrate the city. While this was happening, Captain Jahn got on the horn one last time before he entered the city. "This is HEMT (Holy Empire Marine Tank) 157 requesting massive close air support for entire operation."

--Aircraft Carrier Christoph Alexander--
The Fleet, however, had a beautiful view of the Dregukian country-side. Lush pastures and green forests surrounded the horizon where the troops had landed, and behind them were calm blue skies where that night had been black clouds moving south. The hunks of steel that caged in the boarder were on alert for submarine attacks and sono-bouys had been stretched out for miles in every direction. Then, the radio in the Aircraft Carrier Christoph Alexander went off asking for support.

"Right, give it to him." Said Admiral Anderson.
"Uhh...Right." The radio operator picked up the reciever and gave back a 'It shall be done'.
Right after that, 100 Bombcats in The Imperial Navy started to load up with unguided bombs and extra fuel. As soon as they were ready, they all began to take off and form into 4 plane squads and move out towards the city where they would remain just outside of the city and wait for close-air support orders. When they got to a fuel level where they had to come back, another 100 would launch and take their place. But it would take 2 hours for the Bombcats to get there.

OOC: Crap, I only got a partial post. It cut off alot, too. I really don't want to re-write all that, could we plz just roll with it?

OOC: No problem.

IC:

--Ghastopol, Residential District; 0530 hours--

The ruins of the houses and housing complexes were a bustling hive of activity, as soldiers sprinted from one set of defences to the next. Warchief Deathjaw was amongst them, making sure the weaponry was ready and the ammo plentiful.

"Status?"

"Area one, ready." "Area two, ready." The huge man listened to each of the confirmations from each of the areas.

"Alright guys, we can expect enemy activity at any minute. Keep the MGs loaded and ready, the safeties off and always use smallish bursts." He really didn't need to give the basic training to these men, but it made everyone feel more confident. "Artillery, are you set up?"

"Yes sir, Chief. We should be able to lay down a pretty deadly barrage from here. As long as the spotter manages to avoid jumping in front of bullets."

The Warchief sighed. The artillery was good, and was safe enough at the centre of the city... but any chain is as strong as its weakest link. In this case, the spotter. He needed to stay alive and keep rattling off coordinates to the artillery teams, or else they'd be out of action or firing blind. Which was not good.

"OK people, I think we're ready. Good luck."

Meanwhile, within the Holy Empire...
"No, I don't care! Just get me a direct line of communications with Falastur's leader, you bloody boob! I'll have your head if you don't! Gah!" Fuehrer Alucard slammed the phone down on the table, making sure that he did not hang it up by accident. He looked around his room as the transfer was made. Dark wood, white walls, beautiful statues of ivory and marble and paitings of all manner covered the walls where books had not. The room was beautiful, but ill equiped at allowing him to do his current task. "Aide!" A beautiful, dark-haired, slender young woman appeared in the room.
"Yes sir?"
"Get my plane and escorts ready, we're going to Falastur's capital A S A P."
"Yes Fuehrer, it shall be done." She nodded, and ducked out of the door. She didn't want to ess with him now, the person he'd been talking to on the phone had pissed him off enough already.
The Fuehrer then turned his attention to the phone, and placed it gently on its' reciever.
--5 min. ;ater, just outside office--
The plane was readied and it taxied to the runway. The 10 escorts had already taken off, but it seemed oly ceremony, they were flying a direct line to the Capitol and Dregruk was in shambles. The plane the Fuehrer would take was a Learjet that had been specially made for high-speed long distance travel. It took off and soared in the sky, and the Feuhrer picked up the sattelite phone and attempted to make a direct connection to the leader of Falastur...

Ghastopol, Dregruk

The dropship hung in the air still, not yet on its final approach; and as such, the troops were rather more relaxed than one might expect. But these troops were quiet, subdued; there were no shouts, no posturing psychological enhancement exercises - the posh name used by this unit for the pointless shouting and general glee engaged in by lesser forces.

The Lancers were better than that. Especially in the 1 'Efficient Eagles' Shock Assault Unit. The best of the best - indeed, the motto was just that. No modesty here, thank you very much.

And Lieutenant Colonel Saraka - normally referred to as 27 - was the very best of the very best; she was a former revolutionary used to fighting guerilla tactics against a superior opponent, and she was in command of the 1 SAU.

It would be pleasant to face an inferior one - but she suspected that inferiority was a term used to prop up confidence. Nothing more. She couldn't know for sure, as he'd yet to meet any such animal - but she suspected. Strongly suspected, in fact.

Today, irritatingly, was her birthday.

She was, therefore, annoyed. Her annoyance derived from two sources: first, simply that it was her birthday, and second, that nobody in the entire Unit was aware of that fact. Actually, nobody knew any personal details about anyone else. Only the Unit Controller - a Crown Guard Strategic Warfare Division Major-General - had those details.

And even he did not know her full background. She was not just a former revolutionary; she was ex-RISE, once holding such a high designation as S-3.

But then she had been shunted to the Imperial Palace Guard. That hadn't worked out; they were hard-asses, for sure, but they were too hard. She found it easy to see where the rumours came from; some of them were so dead inside it was easy to imagine all sorts of psi-experimentation going on in that branch of the military.

It wasn't happening, but she understood the line of thought required. It was just a hop and a skip from sanity to insanity in the IPG - they lived on the edge every single day, even though they had never seen live combat. Officially never seen live combat. One never knew, unofficially. The links between RISE - possibly the only black ops unit that almost nobody in the freakin' universe knew about (she thought this very proudly indeed) - and the IPG were very strong. There were no rumours on the subject, as RISE was never, ever, ever mentioned. Even in passing. The punishments involved just were not worth it; hidden laws embedded in Imperial Law, passed during night sessions of the Citizens and Imperial Houses, allowed RISE to use mindwipes and personality reprogramming (technology not available to anyone else in the Commonality) to preserve their 'invisible' status.

She agreed with those laws vehemently; RISE were critical.

In fact, she was still a de facto RISE agent - but she was not an active agent, these days. There were probably several others like her - to her knowledge, only three people knew the full extent of the organisation now - but she couldn't be certain.

Now she hung in the air, seven thousand kilometres above the Earth. She sighed. She would rather be playing chess back at the base, where it was warm and comfortable and safe. And where people didn't shoot live rounds at you, when you just hand a two-foot long pole which fired ultrasonic waves - and couldn't kill anyone.

War was hell, it was said. How much worse was it if you didn't kill anyone - but they still killed your people?

Much, much worse, she knew. She remembered...

And dismissed the memory quickly.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for flying Crown Air Force. Please fly again," she murmoured as the dropship jolted slightly. They were descending.

They were not visible (the dropship was not the new kind, with VisiWalls surrounding the enclosure for troops and equipment), but she knew that K# fighter/bombers were escorting the dropship down. She doubted there would be resistance; few anti-air units could actually track an object moving so fast-

She felt the g-force bear down on her, pressing in and on, hard and fast, and she gave a whoop of glee - damn! she hadn't realised how fast these things were - and realised as she stared at a guage on the wall that she had just pulled five gees for...

Nine seconds now. It hurt; her eyes were too small, her nose felt like - hell, nothing really covered it. It just hurt. Her vision stayed steady, though; her eyes, although fragile by the nature of her species, and her brain were a little more g-tolerant than a Human. Plus-g, that is.

Bam! White light exploded in her vision as a mule the size of Chellis slammed into her arse, kicking her upwards from her seat. The mesh that held her in place crushed against her shoulders, then relaxed - but there was no telltale thud, as there would have been in an older bird.

She knew they were down, though. And she further knew that they weren't the first.

* * *

"Move it!" he ordered softly. Everything was soft and quiet and relaxed here, at Base Camp Alpha. Established just outside the city, with the Raptor MI-assisted helicopter gunships hanging in the air above them popping missiles into anything that moved or looked suspicious, the base was pretty secure.

Unless someone fired a nuke at them. Then they'd be dead. One hoped that didn't happen, mused Staff Seargent Terry of the 12 'Stamp em and grind em' Armoured Division. He covered his eyes as he peered out at the city - Ghastopol. One of the other invading nations had pummelled the place hard, despite the objections of the Commonality government. Some Commonality missiles had struck targets in the city, but as far as he knew, they were all military - and all pinpoint hits that had taken hours to plan.

His eye caught on a Raptor; a fearsome bird if he ever saw one. Folding blades, jets augmented by small MI cores that improved turning capacity and allowed greater velocity - they were awesome to his eyes. He knew from experience that each one could easily monitor well over three hundred targets and decide on which to kill first in a matter of seconds, from twenty miles away. The pilot had it easy, he decided, and grumbled internally: he should have been a pilot.

Regardless, his men were being slower than usual today; they had taken four minutes to assemble the armour from the first three dropships - and they ought to have done it in two. He suspected the devastated cityscape was distracting them, somewhat.

He sighed as another dropship - this one clearly the special forces bird they'd been promised as ground support - fell from the sky with a sundering boom.

[OOC: Apologies for absence: I got into writing short stories. I even submitted a couple to a magazine. Cross your fingers for me, please!]

*fingers crossed!* And it doesn't suprise me, you're damn good.

--Base of Operations in Dregruk, 5 miles outside Ghastopol--
It was a brilliantly sunny day; only a few, whispy clouds dotted the sky in a vein attempt to shrowd the sun. A fair change from the heavy rain that they had all been facing earlier. The base was usually alive with people, practically crammed, but today it was nearly deserted. Only a skeleton crew remained, as the main forces in the camp had set off to Ghastopol, to end the bloody war. They, even noe, surrounded the city from the Southern side, waiting for the order to penetrate the area and turn the rubble into dust. Hundreds of Bombcats, Tomcats modified with laser-guided bomb payloads, moved inland, and would be there waiting to assist the invasion in half an hour. Until then, however, they would sit there, waiting. Over the course of the past few days, however, recon flights had noticed the emblem of a not known country building a small, yet very formidable base not 10 miles from there own. And today, they planned to make contact with them.
"You there!" Shouted an aging, yet strong voice that was directly behind Bravlowsky, Marine Team 14s leader who had been left behind to guard. He whipped around, saw who the man was, and saluted so fast that he made an embarrasingly audible smack on his helmet. "Yes sir?!" It was Gerneral Nikanor, the High General of Operations here.
"Don't piss your pants, son." The General smirked. The soldier rose his hand to salute again, but he waved it off, ordering at ease.
"So, Bravlowsky is it?"
"Y-Yes sir!"
"Can you do me a favor?"
"Anything, sir!"
"Good. Do you see that ball of fire in the sky, 8'clock."
"Uh..." He turned around, and peered into the sky. It took him less than a second to see it, blazing hot with plasma spilling off its' sides. He knew what it was. A dropship. "Yes sir, I do."
"Good. Take your team and Colonel Schenze with you. He is currently in his quarters, and will meet up with you when he's ready to leve, so I'd say about...ten minutes. Be here, team ready by then."
"Yessir!" He saluted smartly as Nikanor trailed off in to the command room again. Then, once he was sure he was gone, he closed the external speaker on his helmet, and patched in on his unit's frequency. They were all over the base. Some working-out, some on guard detail, some eating and otherwise. But soon they were all running to him and getting ready in a flash when he blurted out, "Team, Listen Up! Meet at gate one, be ready for first friendly contact on unknown base in eight minutes! Move your asses, now! We're baby-sitting Colonel Shenze!" All 29 of the others suddenly dropped what they were doing, stood up and ran to the barracks as a dropship (Yes, I have them as well, though mine are probably cumbersome and bulky by comparison) was topped off on fuel and began pre-flight checks to start up and move to the main gate.
--9 min. later--
The Colonel was walking outside, his non-military regulation long, blonde hair moving through the light breeze, when he encountered a group of 30, stone still Marines in full battle dress. They were a sight to see. Armor nearly every-where, Snipers, Close Quarter Combat specialists, Explosive Specialists, and a group of group of regulars were standing in a line-up, right behind a hovering dropship. They looked menacing, almost inhuman behind their armor. They looked like machines almost, like they could even take a hit from a tank and keep going. And not being able to see their faces only helped that notion along. And it was almost true, too. True, they couldn't take a hit from a tank, but they could take withering fire from fixed guns in their more heavily armored legs and chest, and moderate fire in the rest of their body without damage thanks to the advanced armors that had been discovered in the last few years. "Guard detail, I assume?"
"Yes sir" They all saluted in-sync.
"Good, carry on then."
Then they all moved into the dropship, single file by the opened gate. They took their "seats", which were more like crash harnesses, and the leader yanked in the waiting Colonel's arm. They all got seated, and the doors closed. Nothing but a single, white light and they grey of Titanium would be their surroundings for the next few minutes as the craft jetted off towards the enemy base. It broadcasted an easily readable, un-encrypted message the whole way there: 'We wish to establish peace. This is a peace envoy from The Holy Empire of Christopher Thompson, please do not fire.' Meanwhile, the leader of The Holy Empire, Fuehrer Alucard, was penetrating Falastur's airspace, broadcasting a simliar message. 'Fuehrer Alucard of The Holy Empire, Council Member of The Legion of Defense, wishes to land and be directed to the leader of Falastur to arrange an emergency strategy meeting. Please respond.'
All the while, the first wave of Bombcats loomed ever closer to Ghastopol to assist the waiting forces...

"They're broadcasting like lunatics," confirmed the CommOps man. He wore the usual dark green field uniform, of course, but the insignia was of the Strategic Operations Unit. Another command officer. The damned war was full of them. Normal for the Crown Guard, which depended on many voices creating all at once, but it seemed strange even so.

"Inform them that they won't be enjoying peace for very long if any Dregruk anti-air positions left in the vicinity zero on them. Damned idiots, broadcasting like that. Don't they know that enemy artil isn't entirely eliminated?"

"Apparently not," the CommOps soldier replied, needlessly.

The Field Marshal - one of two now active inside the Commonality armed forces - was very rarely seen in the field, oddly enough. But here he was, directing things from the ground - and he was known to be fearsome in battle. He had even obtained permission to outfit the special forces men and women with lethal arms; no small feat in this political climate, to be sure.

Satelite recon had watched the Christopher Thompson advance all along; they had apparently even had support without knowing it, for ICEL warplanes had bombarded enemy positions ahead of the advance - surely they'd seen that?

The Field Marshal had a fuller title: High Lord Field Marshal, it was, in fact - for he had previously held the rank of High Lord Commodore. But now he was transferred to a different division, heading up the SOU rather than the Navy. It was an odd shift - but not one without historical precedent. Especially considering his field history.

Ax-randiri Rihad tilted his head curiously, as if listening to an inaudible voice; peered at the sensor image displayed on the screen in front of him. "On second thoughts...tell them to haul arse here. Now. Fast. Faster than they ever imagined possible. I think we have important business to discuss."

--Dropship 063, Outside Ghastopol, Dregruk--
"Right, almost there kids, get ready!" Joked the pilot as he turned his attention to the landing site that they had been directed to. He slowed down his speed, and dropped his altitude as he executed a tight turn using not much more than yaw on the dropship. Sunlight gleamed off of it as he slowly decended for a soft landing on the ground below. "Oh, by the way, they say that they're Ma-Tek."
The Colonel's eyes raised up. "Well then, why the bloody hell weren't we informed of it?" He yelled to the pilot over the roar of the engines. The pilot shrugged and touched down on the ground, killing the engines. Finally, quiet, he thought. These were fast and reliable, but quiet is one thing they are not, thought the Colonel. After a few moments, the door opened, and the Marines jumped out, weapons holstered and otherwise away from their hands as a sign of good will. After all, this was Ma-Tek, not Dregruk.
The Marines formed-up in a loose cluster around the Colonel, and he broke through them in a few seconds and walked up to a rapidly closing man. He saluted, and then shook his hand. "Greetings, comrade. I am Colonel Schenze of--"
"We know who you are." He said. "And we have much to discuss."
He was taken aback. How the Hell? -- He scratched that thought. It didn't matter now. "Yes, indeed. Please show me the way."

--Outskirts of Ghastopol--

It was the waiting for something to happen that was the killer.

Your first time in battle, you concentrate too much on trying to stay alive to appreciate what's going on around you. When you reached the level of training that the Elites who were defending the capital had, you were fine in battle.

Waiting for it to start, though. That was the part that really rubbed your mettle.

In the background, the artillery continued pounding out their steady rhythm.

Bam! White light exploded in her vision as a mule the size of Chellis slammed into her arse, kicking her upwards from her seat. The mesh that held her in place crushed against her shoulders, then relaxed - but there was no telltale thud, as there would have been in an older bird.

I rofled pretty hard there, I gotta admit ^_^

The ICEL camp is a hive of activity. There is the constant thrum of helicopter blades overhead, the thump of artillery - the enemy has perhaps not quite found the range yet, but the booms are very close indeed - and a strange low buzzing sound. The sound appears to be coming from a squad of soldiers dressed in dull brown uniforms, who appear to be using some sort of odd machine - handheld - on thin air. On closer inspection, the air is shimmering ever so slightly. And over there, just off to the side of the building, tanks are apparently being constructed from what appear to be lumps of metal. Clearly visible, a man approaches one of the lumps, and touches a thick set of wires against the metal, checking a handheld display screen. A finger pokes at the screen, and, slowly, the lump of metal reshapes somewhat - it appears to be growing a cannon of some sort. Strange.

The young-looking officer who had come out to meet the Colonel leads him towards one of the odd buildings - they look only half-built, but somehow they appear to be missing parts, as if someone cleanly cut off a part of the building and moved it elsewhere.

Clever use of the eyes, however, detects yet more shimmering air. And as the angle changes, and the building grows closer, the air darkens, revealing very faintly visible objects - the buildings are not half-finished, but very difficult to spot. No doubt some sort of visual trickery.

"Sir, in order to gain access to the building, you'll need this device," the officer is saying, handing over a small, thin disc. "You need only hold onto it."

None of the others are offered similar devices. "Follow my footsteps exactly, please, sir," the officer adds, vanishing through the wall the next heartbeat.

Apparently the wall is not, in fact, a wall - if you have one of these devices.

--Battalion 3--
The sky was a sunny blue today, but dark, ominous clouds loomed off in the distance. The winds were picking up, and the storm would set im by tommarow. But for today, the weather was rather nice. The sun beat down on the troops lined-up around the boarder of the city, heating up the jungle of cement and rubble that lay before them, like a sea of shattered grey. Then the first shells impacted. The ground lit-up in front of them, spraying the ashes of what was once the rubble of a building onto the tanks and men that were a few hundred yards away from its' danger. The ground shook terribly, but they didn't even flinch as the dust moved about their armor. Then a sniper radioed in to his platoon leader. "Jahn, looks like we've got an FO in our sights."
"Really? You don't say. Where is the little bugger?"
"On top of that nice rubble pile, one o clock, range... half a mile."
"Heh. Take the shot."
"Roger." The sniper, who was laid out on the hard ground beside a tank, moved the reticle to a man's forehead who was too busy looking at a map to cross-reference coordinates to check the batalion for snipers. He closed one eye, held his breath and pulled the trigger. *BAM*
--Battalion 7--
A shell impacted to their right. A hellish ball of flame errupted beside them, just outside the deadly range. "Sir, we've got to get moving soon!"
"Hold your tongue Marine, we havn't recieved orders to move in yet!"
Then he spotted a lone figure moving about the rubble. "FO! All Delta units, open fire!" The 10 tanks in Delta loaded their main cannons with 120 mm High Explosive Rounds. Three of them saw the FO as well, and open fired. A trio of mighty explosions impacted almost exactly where there had once been a man, but it was too late. Right before the shells impacted, the man had managed to spew out exact coordinates, and secoinds later, shells impacted the Battalion directly in the center, sending men flying, and tanks were set ablaze in the wake of the explosions. Then, everone recieved the order: "All units from all batalions. This is HQ. Move forward! You have orders to erradicate and sanitize the city! Green light!"
"It's about bloody time!" Shouted one Marine lucky enough to be in the front of the battalion.
--Entire force, as a whole--
Everyone moved forward, the tanks blazing forward, each with four soldiers on them. Other Marines ran out beside them, ducking behind cover, and preparing to dig in, while the CQC (Clos Quarters Comat) specialists moved up ahead, ignoring the threat of enemy shots ringing out by them. Demolitions experts scanned the sky and ground, looking for enemy positions, rockets at the ready, and sniper teams found good locations to carry out their deadly task in the rubble heaps scattered throughout the city.

--Ma-Tek Base--
"What the?" Schenze mused as the man moved through the wall, which quickly shimmered away to reveal only the landscape. He shook his head, saying to himself 'don't even try to understand', and went through. He passed through the wall of shimmering light, and was instantly in another room: a commanding room. "Aha, so you do have a base of operations set up."
"Only temporary, sir." ventured a man standing next to the "wall".
"I see. How very pecular..."
"Aha, good to meet you sir, over here!" He was cut off in thought by a much more familiar looking face. It was one that reflected intellegence, ellegance and superiority; this could only be a commanding officer.
"Ahhh, good." Colnel Schenze was relieved, now he could get some answers and cooperation with backbone. "You look like you're in charge here." The Colnel stuck out his hand. "I am Colonel Schenze of The Holy Marine Core of The Holy Empire of Christopher Thompson." He flinched, almost visibly with his eyes when he said it; the death of Fuehrer Christopher Thompson still sat very sadly and uneasy in him, as well as very many others, even nearly a year after his death. The death of 'The Admiral', as he was called, Christoph Alexander still poisoned his daily thoughts as well. He swept it from his mind for the moment and concentrated on the man standing in front of him.
"Good, good. I'm sorry for the warning earlier, but we didn't know who this base belonged to; it's rather hard to see at all and so close to ours, so we had to make some assumptions. Now that I know however, it's very relieving to know you are in this ground war."
He then changed his face from one of meeting old friends to one of total seriousness. "It is a shame we must meet on such unpleasant terms. Please, let me illuminate the situation of Ghastopol. As of right now, our base is a skeleton crew. We have moved the vast majority of our combat forces up from the south side of Ghastopol and are forming a line, block to block, to charge up the streets with tanks and armored vehicles leading the way. Our men are following them up, breaking off and taking up suitable positions, and will then move in. "At the moment, Standard Marine Corps Soldiers, Snipers, Close Quarters Combat (CQC) Specialists, Demolition Experts, Holy Empire Marine Tanks (HEMT), and Close-in Combat Vehicles (CICV) are moving into the capitol city of Ghastopol en masse. We intend to storm the city and expect to gain huge gains of strategic land as well as destroy strategic positions, most noteably the enemy artillery, which appears to be persistant, but not yet lethal. One-hundred F-14 Bombcats; Tomcats fitted with guided bombs, are moving in to support the attack with close air support, with another hundred to refresh them in fourty-five minutes, every fourty-five minutes or as needed. What we really need is some beef; some show of force that can be large enough to push our spearhead forward. We are the point, but the point of a blade is useless without a sharp edge and a balanced hilt." He produced from his coat a jet-black folder with snow-white edges, which to anyone not in The Holy Empire it would be moot. Maybe nice looking for a folder, but moot. To Colonel Schenze, however, it meant only one thing: TOP SECRET. FOR YOUR EYES ONLY. If he permitted anyone else but the base of Ma-Tek to see the contents sealed within, it would mean a court-marshall and could very well bring treason charges as well. He held it tight in his fingers, almost unwilling to give it to a foreigner. He did, however, hand it over after a few seconds. The man opened it, and looked wryly: paper.
"Don't fancy paper, do we?" Colonel Schenze could see it almost instantly. "I figured as much; look in the back." The man shuffled the paper aside, and revealed a small disk inside a strange clear case.
Colnel Schenze snatched it from the folder and placed it squarely in his palm, uttering an apology. Then he placed his fingers on each of the corners of the small case, and the before-clear case illuminated, much like a computer screen on the top side. It then asked in a bored, female voice, "Identification please."
"Colonel Schenze, one dash two dash five zero zero two seven three." The computer recognized this as true, and then asked, "Password."
"And now oh Kings, be yea wise."
"Password accepted, data secure."
"Sorry, almost forgot." He returned the now clear case to the hand of the man in front of him. "If I hadn't unlocked it, the data on the disk would have been erased. Tampering and safety measures."
The man nodded, and looked at the disk.
"It contains our strength and plans, as well as enemy estimated strength. It also contains General Nikanor's requests of back up and the like. You may want to review it with the base commanders and myself, right about now."

(OOC: Just in case you were wondering, I haven't forgotten about this. I'm busy trying to write two things at once; a big summary post for this war to wrap it all up nicely, and a story RP that'll be coming out whenever it's finished. So bear with me.)

Within a few hours, Ghastopol had bcome the scene of vicious and often frenzied street fighting. The training of every man involved was thrown out of the window as each struggled to avoid getting shot, burned, blown apart or stabbed.

The Elites' were putting up a strong fight to hold off the assaulting troops, but it was becoming obvious that the war was going to be lost. Many considered dropping his weaponry and surrendering, but their Warchief's resolution and absolute determination to fight on despite the overwhelming odds was oddly reassuring.

9 hours of brutal fighting later, a brief lull descended over the battlefield. During the pause, a voice yelled out from the Falasturian occupied section of the city.

"Grimzag Deathjaw, is that you?!"

The huge Warchief sat upright. The cloud of recognition gradually crept across his features. "Lieutenant Damascus, from the Bravaurian campaign?!"

"Come on out to the square here, let's talk properly."

Silence fell around the soldiers next to Grimzag. He could tell what they were thinking. The moment he set his foot out there, a sniper might take the oppertunity to relieve his shoulders of the mass resting on top of them. In any other situation, the big man would suspect the same thing. But Damascus and him had fought together a long time ago, and shared a mutual respect for each other. It would be a lousy, underhand trick to pull something like that. Not fitting of a soldier of Damascus' calibre.

Grimzag moved through the ruins of the city, heading towards the Square in the centre of Ghastopol. Standing in the centre was his old comrade, Lieutenant Damascus.

"It's been a while, Grim. Only this time we're on the opposite sides."

Grimzag nodded, shaking Damascus' hand roughly. "Are you here to tell me that if we surrender, we'll be treated fairly?"

"Officially, yes. But we both know you won't take the offer. The Bravaurian campaign would still be going on right now if you weren't so bloody minded. So I assume it's a straight fight to the death?"

Grimzag nodded. "That's the way it's got to be."

The two soldiers began their bout, Damascus' attacks light and fast, Grimzag's slow and heavy. A few soldiers from both sides gathered around the square.

A solid hour of fighting later, both men were looking tired and broken. Grimzag's face was covered in blood, his breathing was shallow and ragged. Damascus's nose was broken, his left eye bloody.

"Grim, give it up already. You've lost. Dregruk has been beaten." Said Damascus, facing the Warchief.

Grimzag yelled something unintelligable and grabbed a metal pole from the ground. Wielding it as a club, he brought it to bear heavily, smacking his opponent on the head.

A gunshot was heard, followed quickly by another. Grimzag faltered, dropping the pole. He moved his hand down to his chest, then looked at the sticky red blood that coated his fingers.

He'd taken bullets before. Lots more. But this time it felt different, more final. He tried to stay standing, but his legs gave way. He buckled and collapsed.

Every soldier from Dregruk dropped their weapons and stared in shock. The war was over. It was more than over; Dregruk had lost it's strongest figure. The one man that was believed to be invincible had been cut down.

Grimzag Deathjaw was dead.

...And through the crowd pushed a single man, tall with black hair, dressed in a blood red trenchcoat. He moved to the center and lifted Damascus up with quiet ease. He then removed his broad-brim hat and glasses to reveal his face; it appeared old and wise yet it was actually that of one young and spry, and he spoke with a deep, aged voice full of elegance and sophistication but it was not stuck-up. And through the crowd also pushed a single helicopter, that would broadcast this message to all the people of Dregruk, and the cowards that began this war. "And so it shall come to pass that Dregruk was befelled not by my men, nor by that of Ma-Tek's, but by a single soul who was willing enough to give you all freedom to kill a friend." At this time, twelve men, all dressed in black Priest Robes moved up the crowd and stood around the Fuehrer in a loose circle; the Twelve Paladins had arrived. Alucard gave a gruff smile and continued. "Although you may see this as a time of defeat, I suggest you endure it as a time of prosperity. None of you have the slightest idea what a democracy is, but Dregruk, God willing, will become one. As per a Holy Order made by myself, I have but a few more souls to place to rest before ths war is officially over, however. Toall Dregruk combatants and civilians alike: We will not fire upon you and you are now no longer enemies of The Holy Empire. We are now in a state of neutrality with all but a small group of men in this country. If you lower your weapons to us, we may become good friends and help rebuild your fine nation. But right now, there are still enemies in Dregruk. Bring me the leaders of your nation. Alive. We will offer One-hundred Million USD to anyone who can bring them to me. Only when they have felt the wrath of our divine punishment, shall we be officially at peace. And to that small group of cowards who still hide, I offer you this." The Video that was given to Dregruk at the begining of the war was played. The same video that issued that they would all die before this war's end. When it was over, the Fuehrer issued a single statement: 'I keep my word. Dance dance in the flames of hell, you bitches, dogs of Lucifer.'