NationStates Jolt Archive

General-Officer Big-Gripper looks over his reconnaissance data in the command-and-control room of BB-1, idly tapping his claws against his central thigh. The enemy has expanded quickly, but this is no matter; those populaces were evidently weak to have been conquered so quickly. He will still be consolidating over his holdings, having but just now taken them. Rolling his shoulders to himself, he checks the thick plastic indicator lights to ensure that all his forces are ready and glowing blue.

The first mission is not belligerent at all--first a firebase needs to be established so as to provide a launch point for the upcoming operation. A large, uninhabited island, found earlier by cartographic expeditions, is decided upon as a suitable choice, sitting at three hours at twice the stratospheric speed of sound away from the target. After a quick bombardment from orbit to flatten out the terrain. A massive auxilliary dry cargo ship breaks off from the Rayverr formation and eases her way through the atmosphere, landing relatively gently in the ocean and cruising sluggishly to run her portside aground against the still steaming shore. Doors open and ramps lower, releasing crowds of red Workers carrying equipment and setting up facilities with Warriors carting off aircraft folded up for stowage.

This ship carries the fighter and bomber air components of the First Army, and their field-expedient support systems. In the space of a few weeks an airbase is built from the ground up, aircraft unfolded and stored in hangars that are no more than tent nylon over large collapsable poles, all readied for combat. Another cargo ship touches down and disgorges elements of the First Army's infantry and armor forces for area security and air defense. Once all are ready, the airplanes are fueled with hydrogen obtained through seawater electrolysis, armed, and sent into the air, establishing themselves in coherent but broad formations as they make their way towards their destination.

The large delta-winged bomber aircraft allow themselves to fall behind in supersonic flight, not being as fast as the fighters with their knife-like lines and swept-forward wings. The first objective in any conflict is to obtain air superiority, and that is the intent of the waves of air superiority fighters supercruising through the stratosphere towards ClemsonTigers.

OOC:

Clemson, please send me anything you may have concerning the layout and distribution of your country and its forces. I will transmit the particulars of my forces after you telegram me yours.

OOC:

I telegrammed you my force distribution, but I unknowingly left off some key details. My empire is landlocked. It is very fragile right now as the Emperor's army is still trying to restore order in the nations that fell. The government is having to deal with riots, so it is distracted at the moment, and doesn't notice your approach. It would be very easy to strike the Empire at the moment, but the troops are on high alert so they would be prepared to deal with the invasion.

The Rayverr jet fighters streak high over the intervening territory, then swoop down over targets in the landlocked Holy Empire of ClemsonTigers. The primary targets, those hit first, are air defense and communications stations, wanting to clear the path for the bombers.
A Pilot phenotype looks through the canopy of his ChangTolfiejon-58 fighter aircraft as he brings it in in a steep dive over the air defense station. Killing his throttle, he lets drag reassert itself on the supersonic fighter, pulling it back hard as a green triangle lines up on the triangle-shaped box which indicates his target, a surface-to-air missile site. The triangles meet and turn blue, and the Pilot pushes a button on his three-handed controls.

() Missile away.

The portside munitions door opens up on the angular fighter's side and disgorges an active-radar seeking missile, fins popping out as its ramjet engine engages and streaks towards the target, a finned bulky nail-shaped weapon speeding at six times the speed of sound. The pilot eases his craft into a half-roll, then pulls up while throttling back up on his engines, hands and feet moving in concert in a breaking maneuver away from the SAM site and preparing to bolt away from return fire.
Also, military aircraft in the sky or on the ground are certain targets, so airbases receive a great deal (albeit slightly less) attention.
Six of the swept-forward dagger-fighters dip down to almost nape-of-earth on approach to the airbase, flying a mere hundred meters off of the surface at Mach 2, their pilots carefully watching the triangular indicators and their circular radius-of-error baskets. Once one meets the other, they pull their switches and their bays open, jettisoning six heavy dumb-bombs each. Caught by the blast of supersonic air, they start to spin and precess like tops, skimming over the trees as drag slows them down and edging down towards the airbase. Their high-explosive warheads detonate on impact, digging craters and damaging or destroying buildings or aircraft they hit, but some hit too shallowly and skip, tumbling back up before landing again and exploding.

While intended to be effective, that is not the true strike--it is an attempt to create disorder while the other nine fighters of the formation line up on their targets and begin strafing runs with their centerline gravitic pulse cannon, at least as effective as any medium-bore autocannon. Meanwhile, the weapons officers in the second seat of the fighters line up their bulbous eyes with lines off centerline, and smaller support cannon, equivalent to high-caliber machine guns, line up their streamlined turrets in kind and begin firing, one in each ventral wing root, two to an aircraft. The bursts of fire resemble tracers as they burn through softer targets and explode against harder ones, hopefully causing more damage while the depleted aircraft come around for a strafing pass.
Meanwhile, back at base, cargo ships switch off to unload airborne infantry and their attendant military airlift cargo aircraft, massive turbofan whales that also must be prepped and unfolded in the space of hours. Hundreds of burly Workers and smaller Technicians run out in orderly fashions to assist in this while Warriors check their equipment.

At the same time, Big-Gripper studies his strategic indicator boards. The war is only beginning, and it is now that care is most important. After air superiority is achieved comes the foothold, and this foothold will be... tricky to achieve. Once again fidgeting in thought, bony yellow talons tapping out a waltzing cadence against his armored blue hide, he sends a message to the local commanders with a thought.

(B-G) For the first stage of this war, casualties nor collateral damage are a concern. A foothold must be established at all costs. If the First Army's airborne forces are insufficient, then we shall send the Second and Third Army's. Once an air corridor is made we can airlift greater forces into the area--but now, a foothold!

That being said, he returns to his quiet meditation. He would have to concentrate, as the weight of the operation's decisions rests on him for now.

With battle joined, Third-Daughter Green-Stone, leader of the diplomatic mission to Cetaganda, steps forward to her cameras a very long ways away and folds her massive royal purple hands. Looking at the cameras, she speaks in her low, booming voice, a natural orator due to her size and inherent lung capacity.

"On behalf of the Vesh pij Verr, I bring this statement of intent. Currently, forces of the Rayverr are on the offensive against the Holy Empire of ClemsonTigers after repeated threats (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=380847) against both us and all others who oppose their expansionism. They have already violently conquered large swaths of territory they claim to be theirs, thus fulfilling their threats, and we cannot sit idly by and allow this to grow into a danger to our interests.

"We will accept no less than the unconditional surrender of the Holy Empire, enforced by an occupation by our Warriors. In this way can we minimize the threat of aggressive expansionism posed by this rogue nation."

Emperor Thompson looked out his window, pondering the current situation in the colonies, when General Isanbard walked into the room.

Sir, the Rayverrian forces are advancing quickly through the colonies. We are losing many men in the fight to defend them, and I do not believe they are worth losing this many lives over. Shall I tell them to retreat to defend the borders of Clemson?the General asks Emperor Thompson, afraid of the reaction he might get from the Mighty Emperor.

Instead, the Emperor replied:
Yes. We can't afford to waste all our personnel on the puny colonies when my life is at stake. Is there any way I could escape?

Somewhat surprised, the General said:
No, I'm afraid the enemy has us surrounded. The only way you could escape with your life is by surrendering.

Now the Mighty Emperor was angry. Have you forgotten who you are talking to you, you little good for nothing piece of shit? I have escaped many situations even worse than this one, and this time it will be no different. Now, order all troops to retreat to the borders of Clemson and defend it with their lifes. No surrendering; if I find out anyone surrendered, the survivors will be tortured and then killed in public. I suggest they fight with their lives.

General Isanbard backed away slowly, barely able to utter a "Yes, sir." He had forgotten the power the Emperor gets in his voice when he is angered.

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Meanwhile, the Rayverrian air force was overpowering the colonial air defenses, destroying each turret one by one with minimal damage. The Imperial Air Force was not there to assist, as they had been ordered to patrol the skies of the nation of Clemson. It appeared that in a matter of days, or even hours, the colonies would fall very quickly and the Rayverrian army would be knocking on Clemson's door. It would be a bloody battle, filled with death and surprises...

The battle is not without loss. While the colonial air defense may not be extremely powerful, it is still air defense. Missiles streak up from static positions, forcing Rayverr pilots to pull their craft around in tight banks, pushing more thrust from their engines.

() Missiles! SAM break. SAM break!

From a distance, it has an oddly alien appearance. Bright sparks of flares arc out from the contrails produced by the sharp dagger-planes as they bank transsonically, and either this is enough to fool the smoke plumes of the chasing missiles away; or either both lines of white smoke converge in a puff of yellow and red, swallowed up by a new black cloud as the wreckage makes its way to the ground. The first wave predictably takes the most losses--the concerted air assault of five hundred aircraft lose two hundred seventy six of their number.

Big-Gripper watches the casualties mount with a frown. Five hundred fifty-two Pilot phenotypes so far expended for the cause... but that was their purpose and the result of their cavalier tactics for the Family. A thought tickles the side of his mind; his eyes flicker as he shifts his attention. (B-G) Report, Company-Officer. Explain your heavy casualties.

Back down at the makeshift invasion airbase, Company-Officer High-Walker, commander of the First Army's aviation corps, winces as the sensation of rapped knuckles flits across his mind. (H-W) We lost two Chief-Enlisteds, General-Officer, and command and control faltered. The rest of the casualties were the result of standard attrition.

A grimace, a flash of sharp yellow teeth. (B-G) Unacceptable. Rank is for discipline, initiative is for life--not the other way around.

(H-W) We try, General-Officer. His commander was sometimes almost... rebellious in his demands, but never mind. Air superiority has been achieved.

Big-Gripper rolls his shoulders to himself. (B-G) Good. Move your bombers in to suppress and destroy deployed ground forces. Return expended fighters to base and launch an airborne assault on these three airbases. He taps three points on the map in front of them; they lie on the border nearest the Rayverr but are separated physically by terrain features--a mountain range between these two, and a large lake between these two. I will not have their army coalescing on us, he thinks.

(H-W) Understood, General-Officer. The enemy's air forces are almost wholly intact and over their original territories.

(B-G) Move the bulk of your forces to combat air patrol over these targets and send raiders to harass their air forces. Draw small amounts of them into larger formations and destroy them in detail. Act now.

Back on the island, thousands of soldiers get into a hundred prepared aircraft, huddling close in rows while the whale-like planes take off and drone over towards the colonies of the Holy Empire, more than four and a half hours away at high subsonic. This gives the bomber wing, over a thousand strong, a window to act, dashing in from their failsafe zones to strike at communications centers, depots, and fielded armies. Unlike the fighter strikes, the bombers do not rely on dumb bombs and anti-radar missiles; they instead employ heavy bombs guided by laser reflection and a system analogous to tactical GPS.

The intent of these airstrikes are to destroy enemy command and communications by taking out command posts and more communications centers; reduce the enemy's capability to fight for any extended period by hitting fuel, munitions, and repair depots and bases; and finally destroy any forces unfortunate enough to be in the open (visible targets) or at base with concetrated, surgical bombings. The combat effectiveness of the Holy Empire's forces must be reduced before the airborne reach their drop zones.
The objective--a bunker noted as a probable enemy command post, probably formerly owned by the colonial government. Ten kilometers in the sky, a lone delta-winged Rayverr bomber tilts its nose down slightly, diving to five kilometers in altitude while smoke filters pierce through the low clouds and identify the target. The pilot in front continues to slow his craft down to a relatively leisurely low transsonic, reducing the circular radius of error on the bombadier's screen smaller and smaller, assuming an unguided bomb.

The bombadier, behind the pilot, switches through the list of the thirty-six bombs the bomber carries of various types until he comes across a small-diameter bunker-buster bomb, essentially a two-stage rocket with a high-explosive warhead hidden behind a hardened piercing cone. The starboard bay opens with the rushing roar of changing airflow and the plane feels more sluggish; with a flip of a switch the selected bomb falls and orients itself with the reflected light coming from the infrared targeting laser painting the target.

The bombadier closes the bay then watches the progress of his munition, indicating for the pilot to slowly turn away in a disengagement break maneuver. Once the bomb hits with a subdued flash and a great deal of smoke pounding out of the bunker's slit-like windows and trailing out the hole made by the piercer head, the pilot begins moving to the next target on his list.

The Rayverrian attacks were doing a great deal of damage to the remaining colonial forces. Some of the divisions of the army were still retreating to the main nation when the Rayverrian bombers began making their strikes. Soldiers with anti-aircraft rocket launchers attempted to take out as many as the aircraft as they could, but the anti-aircraft fire was ineffective against the superior Rayverrian air forces. They now controlled the skies over the colonies.

Rayverrian planes began to attack the patrols over Clemson. Alarms sounded and anti-aircraft turrets began firing missiles at the enemy aircraft. Emperor Thompson knew what they planned to do. He had learned his lesson in World War V, when the enemy forces attempted to drag small numbers of planes into the open and using overwhelming forces to destroy them, slowly wiping out his air force. He wouldn't allow this to happen. He ordered bombers to strike some of the enemy's forward airbases.

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The 20 B-52 bombers, escorted by F-16s and F-18s, began making their runs on the enemy's forward airbases. Their bombs were causing great damage, but not without lost. The enemy's defenses were much stronger than originally thought, and 5 B-52 bombers were lost in just the first strike. Meanwhile, the Rayverrian Air Force's plan was somewhat effective in eliminating some of the Imperial Air Force.

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On the ground, nearly every division of the army had reached Clemson and were taking position around its borders. The main nation's borders were very heavily fortified. Steel walls lined much of the country's borders, with anti-aircraft turrets and gun turrets.

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Back at the Imperial Palace, the Great One was contemplating what could be done to slow the Rayverrian assault. Then, he thought of the country's nuclear, chemical, and biological stockpile.

General Isanbard, report to my office immediately. the Emperor said over his speaker phone.

Within minutes, General Isanbard was standing in the Emperor's office, still shaken from the Emperor's outburst earlier.

Yes, sir? he said with some shakiness in his voice.

Here is your order, General. I want you to nuke the colonies with every nuclear ICBM we have. I want to cause the Rayverrian army as much hell as possible. Also, open the silos for the chemical and biological ICBMs. I want to be able to fire them quickly with just the press of a button. he said calmly, but firmly.

Yes, sir. Right away... General Isanbard reluctantly said.

Within an hour, all 10 nuclear ICBMS had been launched. Whether or not they had been successful in hitting their target, that is not known.

The ICBMs, firing well inside their minimum range--intercontinental missiles are not designed for theater use, after all--arc high and try to compensate for the short ranges. Most go wide, airbursting over forests or smaller communities instead of the cities the Holy Empire intended to destroy... but they are still nuclear weapons, and they still burn and crush and kill those unfortunates who meet their wrath. Two cities are hit and disappear in the light of their new suns; one contains one of the airports designated as a landing zone for the airborne... who are still three hours out.

(H-W) General-Officer, our pilots are reporting... nuclear strikes in the colonies. No losses, but a few aircraft have been damaged. One of our planned airborne targets is gone. Also, we have lost another nine fighters in our battles against the numerically superior enemy forces--that tactic is not being entirely effective.

What madness is this? Some distance away, Big-Gripper growls to himself. Even if we lose no soldiers now, persistant radiation is still a threat. (B-G) Direct your nuclear-capable bombers to retaliate against strategic targets of interest in their homeland. Strategic military assets, government centers, and industrial centers, in that order. Call your damaged aircraft back to base for repair. Change the objective for the airborne operation to here--he points at another airport, more towards the far border, separated by a large mountain valley--and continue your harassment of the enemy--begin to establish a fighter rotation. I want air cover for the next stage.

High-Walker quickly sends his acknowledgement and is gone from Big-Gripper's mind--just as quickly, Big-Gripper ponders the next stage. The timetable was progressing quickly--perhaps too quickly. By the time the cargo planes dispense their airborne forces, the fighters currently in the air would be reaching the end of their effective endurance and would have to return to base for refueling. Therefore, portions of the fighters should refuel now while they had the opportunity and then go back out to support the bombers.

The General-Officer stretches out his shoulders and sighs. This will be a long day.

Elsewhere, small numbers of the bombers in the skies over the former Sean Empire divert and point their attention towards the ClemsonTigers homeland. Bombadiers scroll once again through their ordnance listings, coming across the nuclear-tipped cruise missiles in their holds. Out of the bombers in the sky, over a thousand in number, eighty divert and immediately request targeting information from strategic command. The targets are quickly allocated and transmitted, ranging from military bases to hardened silos--those that could be detected--to powerplants and heavy industrial factories and finally cities that appear to be government centers, although these are based more on conjecture than actual information.

The bulky dart-like weapons fall from their bays, wings slapping out into place from slots in their fuselages, and speed off, their simple turbine engines burning as they dip down to cruise just over the nape of the earth. The need for them to move their 150-ish kiloton payloads long distances and thus stay in the sky for longer periods limits their speed to the high transsonic around Mach 1.2. This makes them somewhat more difficult to shoot down than conventional cruise missiles, but it can be done...

Meanwhile, the airborne Warriors inside their airlifters receive word that they may be entering hazardous conditions. Grunting acknowledgement, they begin rooting through their kits for their CBR gear before leaning back against the aircraft's cold hull or each other to get some more rest before battle. Still two hours to go, easily.

However, many of them go wide because they are, let's face it, old since they were back in the days of the Sean Empire, plus it is a situation where the ICBMs are very advanced and the people who launch them inexperienced.

The cruise missiles came flying in, hitting all of their targets. It was obvious that the Rayverrian bombardiers were very experienced in these types of operations. Entire airbases were wiped out. Military bases housing troops were also wiped out.

It was not just military targets that suffered damage. The Thompsongrad City Hall, the capital of ClemsonTigers, was struck by a cruise missile and completely destroyed, killing everyone in it.

The Emperor was not far from the City Hall. The blast spread and was getting closer and closer to the Imperial Palace. The building started shaking, and windows shattered. The Great One dove on the floor, covering his head with his hands.

No, this can't be happening. He said. Suddenly, everything went black....

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Meanwhile, the soldiers continued to set up camp outside of the country's borders, preparing for the massive land battle that was inevitably coming...

(H-W) Retaliation successful.

Big-Gripper rolls his shoulders, watching his display update with information from the orbital intelligence and observation network. The sheer amount of energy traded between the homelands of the Holy Empire and its colonies were actually far in the Holy Empire's favor--multimegaton ICBM warheads versus the small multikiloton warheads of the Rayverr's cruise missiles--and while the Rayverr attack was more precise and more immediately damaging, large areas of the colonies were now threatened by lingering radiation that limited their usefulness. The First Army would have to fight through that in CBR gear, and even then, the potential for genetic malady from mutation hazards would be great in some areas for quite some time to come...

Nevertheless, there is not much time to lose. The airborne would land first, securing airports and their immediate vicinity. Right now, armor and armored personnel carriers would have to be loaded onto airlifters to be ready to exploit and firm those defenses, then build an offensive force. Quietly giving the order, tanks move from cargo ship to airlifter, their mass limiting them to two tanks per aircraft. With over twelve hundred cargo planes to constantly prepare and launch, that means twenty-four hundred tanks a go; this would take an aerial conveyor belt to move and supply the Rayverr ground forces adequately. Still... this can be done. A little more than two hours behind the airborne forces, the first of the armor-carrying airlifters lifts off.

Back in the expanded lands of ClemsonTigers, the first ground forces finally arrive. So far, the war has been on for about seven hours.
(Sergeant-Enlisted) Feet in gear--we're on a timetable! The lines of Rayverr warriors, now in their camouflaged CBR suits that look heavy like plasticized rubber yet crinkle softly like aluminum foil, get up and latch heavy metal hooks to lines that lead back towards the drop doors. The doors open up, revealing the darkening lands below as the plane slows down just over stall speed, dragging itself through the sky at low altitude. (Sergeant-Enlisted) Jump!

The first line of Warriors growls, lifts up their central legs and run on the other two down the jump ramp, leaping out and curling up as they hit the blast. Their rip cords spool out, then jerk taught before parachutes open up, slowing the Warriors' fall. This happens again, and again, as each row runs up and jumps out without the need for cue, thousands of parachutes opening and floating down between tens of heavy airlifters over each of the three airports.

Looking through the visors on their helmets, the airborne forces look for organized defense, trying to detect their heat. As most of the ClemsonTiger forces have pulled back to the homeland, all that remains here are perhaps police, guards, and armed citizens--hardly extreme threats. A few airport security personnel look up and see the incoming paratroopers; raising their rifles, they shoot up into the exposed masses of troops.

One Warrior gets hit, limbs flailing with the impact of rifle rounds, some skittering as they graze his carapace, others pinging or slowing as they hit the plates of armor he wears. One grazes his neck; growling, he unstows his gravpulse rifle and begins shooting back down with bursts of what looks like dotted tracer fire, fancier looking but equivalent to the assault rifles firing up at them. The entire landing stick takes this up, trading accuracy for massed fire as they chew up the entire area where they see the muzzle flashes, careful to guide their parachutes with their central arms as they come down.

The first elements hit the ground and simply cut their parachute cords with the snap of hard talons, running forward with snarls towards treelines and ditches. All over and around the airfield Warriors land and coalesce, their prowess and sheer numbers quickly overwelming security forces. They tear their way into terminals and control buildings with clawed hands (or shoot their way in if this is insufficient), ignoring huddled crowds of civilians just trying to escape the recent madness in the cities and going for control points--air traffic control rooms, communications rooms, and control towers.

In the latter, Warriors bang up the stairs, the one in point banging up one flight, turning and slamming his back against the wall as he keeps his weapon pointed further up the stairs, clearing the area with no more than growls inbetween comrades as they follow suit. One man comes out of the control tower with pistol raised but not ready; the Warrior simply reacts and the unlucky human is immediately torn to shreds by gravpulse fire. Finally, the hulking warriors break into the control tower, quickly panning their weapons across the entire room to silently recommend that no one do anything foolish. The tower controllers raise their hands and look at each other worriedly, cowed by the huge, otherworldly beings.

The sergeant-enlisted in command of the squad growls an order, his voice quite intelligible despite being muffled by his gas mask. "Cohntinue youhr johbss. You will be rehlieved sshohrtly." Other than a slight sibilance and a mild exaggeration of the vowels, his English is perfect.
Two hours later, more airlifters arrive, again cutting their engines as low as they dare as they come in for landing... but no, they touch down their rearmost gear, tip back a little more, and two tanks in neutral roll out the back, support crews of Workers and technicians holding on for dear life along with crates of supplies lashed to their armored hulls. The tanks easily slow down to a more managable speed on their road wheels while the jet takes back off, vectored thrust keeping the backblast from bowling about its ex-cargo. The tanks turn off of the runway just in time for the next plane to come in no less than five minutes later and repeat the process. Sometimes, a Worker or a Technician is unlucky enough to lose his or her grip and go tumbling off; these unfortunates are quickly carted off to medical attention. One or two find themselves falling into or under the tanks wheels; the remains of these are quickly rendered down to no more than grease spots after the abuse of more tanks until the Rayverr finally find and figure out how to use the emergency hoses, spraying the debris off the runway. This way they can deliver twenty-four tanks an hour, 192 tanks every eight-hour cycle, 576 tanks a day per airfield, as they only use the longest runway at each of the three sites.

The delivered tanks are unloaded and their metal treads put back on; they immediately take up positions along the perimeter. More come in to patrol, and still more begin setting up field bases with the assistance of the airborne already on site. Once all this is set up, then the other runways are used to move in the mechanized infantry at a more reasonable pace (the planes actually land) at five APCs per aircraft as well as additional munitions for the army. Those few runways left over are dedicated to rotating the fighter and bomber aircraft, keeping a combat air patrol in the skies at all times.

With this flurry of activity, the offensive pauses. Fighters and bombers continue to harass Holy Empire forces at range with long-range interceptor missiles and conventional-tipped cruise missiles, but the ground forces do not move from their positions yet except to spread out the defensive perimeters in the direction of the Holy Empire, creating some buffer space between what could eventually become the line and the airports. Even with a small foothold, the Rayverr forces do not yet have the strength on hand to continue the drive. "Not yet" being the operative phrase.

Fleet Command Deck, CSS-SDN Lionel Mandrake
Flagship, Cetagandan Third Fleet
High Orbit, Sol III

"Efficient little buggers, aren't they?" remarks Fleet Admiral Mikhail Gabrielov from where he stands watching Fleet Command's main plot, which at the moment showed displays of the region in which the Rayverr were concentrated and an overall view of the entire nation.

"I agree. The level of coordination is quite impressive, easily matching those of our own forces or the TYCS," replies the ship's Mind, speaking through an avatar beside the admiral. "Note the lack of comms emissions as well. It's almost certainly a result of their mental communications ability. It's no wonder that they don't seem to have developed QE, given how useful their natural facility is."

"What have we learned about their technology so far, Mandrake? Not that I don't trust our new friends, what with their tendency to be vague about things and lack of solid knowledge about their home, but I don't trust them."

"Well, we've gotten some very good looks at their weapons. Definately gravitic based, and reasonably strong. Certainly comparable to our weapons of similar size deployed by Triumvirate nations. We'll be sending the data we gather on the Camp Restricted so they can look at using it to improve our own gravitics and start working on countermeasures. Fleet Intelligence is also working on extrapolating the power of their capital weapons from what we've seen so far. With luck, they'll deploy some heavier weaponry during their campaign."

"Indeed. They've certainly picked a good target - fairly small, and morally justified. Almost makes me wonder if its all a PR stunt."

"Well, they could just be looking to conquer themselves a nice foothold on Terra," replies the ship in a mock-serious tone. "Of course, if you think like that, it makes you wonder what the TYCS is really up to."

The man only shrugs and continues to watch the lopsided war.

The scene is at a hospital in the capital of Thompsongrad. Emperor Thompson lay in a hospital bed, unconscious, knocked cold from the nuclear blast. His best general, General Isanbard, walks into the room. He notices the life support systems, and an evil thought entered his mind.

If I kill him, the war will end. Certainly, the Rayverrian forces would be so happy that they would lessen our terms of surrender, and I would rise to power as the new leader of the country. Yes...sometimes I surprise myself.

The evil general walked over to the bed and began ripping tubes out of the Grand Emperor. Within a few seconds, the monitor showed a flatline, and an eerie sound sounded. At that moment, General Isanbard sneaked out of the room, and back to his car. He slowly pulled out of the hospital parking lot, back to his headquarters where he would inform the nation of his Emperor's death, and their surrender to the Rayverrian forces. He began forming the speech in his mind.

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On the war front, things were looking bleak. The Imperial Air Force was losing planes by the dozens. The Rayverrians were just too advanced. Even the Sean Empire was not that advanced at its peak, before its collapse. Soldiers on the front line began missing their homes, but morale was high. They had the Rayverrians extremely outnumbered, and in some cases, they were even more advanced than the Rayverrians.

The land battles had not begun, but Imperial intelligence knew that it would soon begin, as they had learned of many airports taken over by the Rayverrians. The battle would be fierce if General Isanbard's plot for power did not succeed...

All intelligence and observation reports indicate that the enemy army, while not as armor-heavy as ours, is still much larger than the First Army. Big-Gripper meditates quietly on this, hands folded as he seems to sleep--or perhaps pray in supplication--at the strategic map in BB-1. He allows his dreams to help work out his problems, much as mathematicians dream of equations. Our strength lies in armor. However, at this rate, it will take far too long to move all of the First Army's tanks into the area. However, it should only take about three days to achieve parity with the enemy forces; therefore, for overwhelming force in armor, we shall need nine days of build-up for a proper armored force, not counting support.

In those nine days, assuming all goes well, we can also move a third of the First Army's mechanized infantry into position. One hundred forty thousand concentrated is still stronger than a million spread out. What we must do is buy the time we need to build up this force and then try to penetrate their lines to intercept supply routes. One yellow eye opens and scans the map. They have walled their territory, but they have already made this a nuclear war. Closing his eyes again, he reaches out with his mind. (B-G) High-Walker, you are to press the enemy air forces harder. I want a consistent cruise missile barrage on enemy positions from your bombers. Maintain nuclear-tipped munitions airborne at all times to support the effort as needed.

Receiving a curt acknowledgement, the General-Officer moves on to his ground commanders. (B-G) Company-Officers, expand slowly to accommodate further reinforcement. Identify fast routes of entry into the Holy Empire, preferably off-road. Reconnoiter and report enemy strength back to me.

Platoons of tanks move out of the vicinity of the airports, finally entering the battered nearby cities. Armored personnel carriers transporting squads of Warriors with heavier armor on their carapaces follow behind, support cannon tracking silently through the deserted streets. The bark of gunfire erupts from a building up the left hand side of the street; the facade of the building suddenly goes up in a cloud of dust as the APCs concentrate their fire on that entire floor, keeping the enemy down while one of the tanks elevates its cannon and tears the building open with a burst of unconfined plasma, letting the top of the building collapse under its unsupported weight. Airborne follow along behind, hitching rides on APCs and dismounting on foot, quickly asserting control over the urban areas after the vehicles leave. Each city retains a handful of tanks on hand just in case, but regular Warriors take up the beat, moving in groups of five to root out and destroy the sporadic insurgent action taken by police officers and militiamen.

Meanwhile, in the sky, the sharp-angled fighters become more aggressive, attacking any groups of airborne aircraft they find with long-range interceptor missiles, moving in closer to try and finish them off with guns if they seem weakned enough. If this brings up anti-air artillery, then airborne bombers release cruise missiles at the defense turrets and mobile launchers while the fighters pull back, trying to keep their casualties to a minimum. When the bombers aren't attacking enemy air defense at a long range, they drop medium-range glide bombs similar to JSOWs towards Clemson ground formations that poke too far out of cover. With the airports completely secured, they rotate from these instead of the distant island airbase, relying on the equipment brought in by the airlifters.

Under this air cover, small units of tanks begin careful reconnaissance expeditions, moving closer and testing the defenses of the walls, firing from cover and moving evasively to harass the defenders. Vertical launch tubes in the back of the tanks fire off artillery missiles in sporadic salvos every so often, trying to aggrivate defenses either on the wall or behind it.
Behind the thin forward line of tanks doing harrasing reconnaissance, outside of artillery range, Rayverr ground forces mass--tanks in front, APCs in rear. Behind this, in the cities and towns and airports, the thousands of airborne troops consolidate holdings, and in the airports, Technicians perform routine maintenance on bombers, fighters, and airlifters taken out of the cycle for repairs and set up machines to strip the hydrogen from available resources--namely, local jet fuel, gasoline, and diesel reserves--for use in the Rayverr powerplants.

This is how ten days are intended to pass, with that center formation slowly growing. Whether they are allowed to pass according to plan or not is anyone's guess...

As enemy forces began to move into position, the new "leader" of the country in turmoil arrived at headquarters. An officer walked up to the Mercedes-Benz and met General Isanbard as he exited his car.

Good to see you in good health, General. What brings you back to headquarters so soon? I thought you were assigned to protect our dear Emperor? He said with a somewhat puzzled look on his face.

I have bad news, Officer Morrison. Our Emperor was mortally injured in the nuclear blast at Thompsongrad. After two days in the hospital, the doctors declared him dead. My intentions of coming here are to suggest we surrender to the Rayverrians. Surely they will not be so hard on us if we just surrendered now.

I suppose you're right. I will put the issue before the Council shortly. At this, Officer Morrison walked away as General Isanbard went to his room and planned his speech to the nation.

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

A few hours later, the Council had voted to offer terms of surrender to the Rayverrian forces.

The terms were as followed:
1. The nation of ClemsonTigers will surrender to the nation of Rayverria if ClemsonTigers is allowed to continue governing themselves.

2. The nation of Rayverria will be allowed to occupy the nation of ClemsonTigers if they do not interfere with the everyday life of the Clemson people.

3. The nation of ClemsonTigers will stop all imperialistic acts.

4. The nation of ClemsonTigers does not see it fit to turn over anyone to the Rayverrians as the mastermind of the expansion was Emperor Thompson, who was killed in the nuclear blast at Thompsongrad.

These terms were sent to the Rayverrian leaders, saying they are open to negotiation.

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

General Isanbard sat down in front of the camera at his desk.

Are we ready? He asked the camera crew.

Ready, sir.

The camera's began rolling, and the figure of General Isanbard came on the screens of every television in the country.

Greetings citizens. A cruel event has taken place in our great country. Our Great Emperor, at the age of 62, was killed in the nuclear blast at Thompsongrad. He was knocked unconscious, and for two days lived on life support, until it just wasn't enough to keep him alive. He died two days after being knocked unconscious in the nuclear blast. I have assumed leadership of the country, and have submitted terms of surrender to the Rayverrians. I intend to save lives and the tradition of our great nation, as we are fighting a war we can't win. Our Emperor was foolish to go on these conquests, but he will be remembered for his glorious reign over the Sean Empire before its great collapse. He was greatly respected throughout the international community, and will be missed. If the Rayverrians accept our terms of surrender, they will more than likely occupy our country. We must welcome them with open arms. Do not attempt to fight them. They are just too powerful. Our troops will remain on the borders just in case the Rayverrians reject our terms. That is all. Good day to all, and may the Lord bless our country.

Very, very far away, the Ancient One looks up through the central geodesic dome of her habitat, up at her night sky, half a purple-blue streak from a nearby nebula. (Mater) Tell me of their proposition and your status.

From his strategic command and control room on the unimaginatively-named BB-1, Big-Gripper rolls his shoulders in assent. (B-G) Yes, Mater. Currently, my plan for an offensive against the ClemsonTiger homeland is to breach their walls at multiple points with nuclear weapons. Several of these points will be dummies, intended to distract any forces waiting inside the nation as to our actual lines of entry. After the immediate blast effects have passed, armored elements of the First Army--in three components of approximately a thousand each--will begin pressing in from two sides, a strong front and a weaker front, with armored personnel carriers in the rear to consolidate holdings. Drive harder with the weaker front, so as to force the enemy to apply most of its force to it, then pull back, drawing the enemy out while the stronger front moves somewhat more slowly but more certainly.

A voice that is not aloud, quiet yet firm. (Mater) Will it work?

The Warrior hesitates as he thinks. (B-G) I am not sure. While we have far more armor than they do, their standing army is much larger. This plan relies on the initial nuclear strikes causing severe damage to their formations and for almost total air superiority to destroy large ground formations, air superiority we do not have. I am unsure whether or not we can even take air superiority at this rate. The First Army's supplies of expendable munitions is running low and the enemy still has a numerical advantage in the air. Resupply from our auxillary dry cargo ships is reliant on a highly vulnerable airlift chain from our island firebase. While it could be successful, what is more likely is that we will have to draw on resources from the Second or perhaps even Third Armies to maintain fully effective fronts. If our advances get bogged down--and that is a possibility--then fighting will slow and we will most certainly need those armies.

Mater rolls her shoulders, an invisible gesture. (Mater) But is that not why the Commandant assigned you those forces?

(B-G) The Commandant is correct; those are the forces we would have to expend in order to achieve total victory. However, expended forces, dead Warriors, do not fight wars. We already have complete control of the colonies--while residual radiation is a concern, there is also a core population protected from the fallout. If we continue the advance now, we will be ill-prepared for the long struggle ahead, and it will cost dearly for the acquisition of a few more million alien sentients.

Another slow roll of her shoulders, and a thought out to a different mind. (Mater) And what is your opinion, Third-Daughter?

Third-Daughter Green-Stone shakes her head in a thoughtful gesture from her chambers in the Rayverr Cetagandan embassy. (G-S) The humans believe a great deal in their contracts and the specific wording of their agreements. The current offer is far too vague, but it could perhaps be amended to something that better suits our purposes. The humans also fear any force which is willfully destructive when there are other options open to it--as they rightfully should be. If we continue on, despite our call for an unconditional surrender, then we can be made to appear as war-thirsty despoilers of territory, as reavers come to pillage. However, if we show leniency in this matter, we will appear "merciful" to the greater world, which will certainly serve us better than the other image. By appearing to be the reasonable party, even by granting a few concessions that quietly support our further interests, we can continue our expansion unchecked as we will be unfeared.

(B-G) Also, Mater, the Warrior adds, agreeing to peace for now can give us the opportunity to fortify the colonies with the entire First Army, which would prepare us far better for future expansion into ClemsonTigers if we wish it. Setting up long-range air interceptor batteries, missile and artillery hardpoints... we could most certainly ensure future victory over them.

The highest queen of the vesh pij verr rolls her shoulders in agreement. (Mater) Very well then. General-Officer, continue your campaign but more gently. Continue fortifying your position. Third-Daughter, speak with this 'General Isanbard' and come to something where we may occupy, and in the future keep, the territory we have wrested from them.

------===------

While Rayverr fighters continue to aggressively harass ClemsonTiger air forces, they do not press as hard as they did a few days ago. They continue to patrol airspace over ground held by the Rayverr and drive off or destroy any planes that attempt to threaten it. The bombers cease attacking from range, instead going to combat-ready patrols over the airports and cities, ready to dash in if need be but otherwise not being aggressive beyond the mere threat of violence.

------===------

Third-Daughter Green-Stone once again appears to her cameras behind a blocky podium, transmitting openly but especially to ClemsonTigers. "The vesh pij verr is glad to see that a diplomatic route to the end of this combat may exist, and congratulates the nation of ClemsonTigers for taking the first step. However, we do not find the terms of surrender agreeable as they currently stand."

She momentarily looks down at a PDA in one large, purple-scaled hand then looks back up at the cameras. "On the first point, we will accept the surrender of the nation of ClemsonTigers if we, the Rayverr, maintain authority over the lands gained by the nation of ClemsonTigers in their recent imperialist expansion. The Rayverr will act as the sole administrative authority of these territories for a period of one year, during which the Rayverr will repair the damages caused by the egregious misuse of nuclear weapons on the part of the nation of ClemsonTigers. After the year has elapsed, the various territories under Rayverr jurisdiction will decide for themselves, by popular vote, whether they wish to rejoin the empire of ClemsonTigers, become autonomous states, or continue accepting the authority of the vesh pij verr as equal states of the Rayverr.

"On the second point--we ask for the concessions of the first point, but in return we will only occupy these colonies and not occupy the central ClemsonTiger homelands. In addition, we will, during our year of control, create a neutral corridor which will allow ClemsonTigers to expand peacefully when need be without encroaching on lands administrated by the Rayverr.

"We agree fully with the third point and see no need for amendment.

"We accept the decision of the nation of ClemsonTigers in the fourth point and accept their explanation of the cause of recent events. We therefore do not demand any citizen of ClemsonTigers not of colonial origin to be released into our authority."

With that, she puts her PDA back onto her podium and smiles, lips parting and barely exposing a hint of teeth unintentionally, sly by physiology. "Hopefully these terms are acceptable to the nation of ClemsonTigers. If they are accepted, then all military action against that nation shall cease immediately. If they are not accepted, then we will be forced to continue this conflict until its eventual resolution."

OOC:

I finally got pictures of my air forces--I have such great friends.

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/compyart/tmbrayverr-fighter-view.jpg (http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/compyart/rayverr-fighter-view.jpg) http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/compyart/tmbrayverr-bomber-view.jpg (http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/compyart/rayverr-bomber-view.jpg) http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/compyart/tmbrayverr-airlifter-view.jpg (http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/compyart/rayverr-airlifter-view.jpg)
ChangTolfiejon (ChngTlfjn)-58 fighter, LokChangTolfiejon (LkChngTlfjn)-92 bomber, and SokfieTolfiejon (SkfTlfjn)-127 airlifter

General Isanbard sits in his chair, smoking a cigar, when Officer Morrison walks into the room.

Sir, we have a message from the Rayverrians. He said.

Good. Play it. He commanded.

Within seconds, an image of Third-Daughter Green-Stone flashed onto the screen, and the General listened with great intent to the proposed amendments. When the message was through, he turned to Officer Morrison.

Accept their terms. The colonies are disposable now that they are littered with radioactive waste. It looks as if I will soon be the ruler of this nation with you are my right arm, Morrison.

Thank you, sir. I will inform the Rayverrians right away. Officer Morrison said as he walked out of the room.

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

Officer Morrison sat down in front of the camera to make his video message to the Rayverrians.

Greetings, friends. I am Officer Josh Morrison, the first-in-command to General Isanbard. The amendments by the vesh pij verr to the proposed peace agreement are acceptable. We see this treaty as an acceptable compromise between our two parties. We will begin pulling back all troops immediately, and hope that you will do the same.

The camera cuts off, and the tape is immediately sent to the Rayverrians.

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

Officer Morrison walks back into General Isanbard's office, who is smoking another cigar.

It is done, sir. The tape is on its way to the Rayverrian leaders.

Good. Let's hope this ends this war so I can finally come to power.

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

Meanwhile, on the war front, the 2.5 million strong army celebrates as they learn that they will finally be going home. There are still some minor air skirmishes, but the fiercest fighting was over with...at least for now.

A public response broadcast is quickly made up and sent out, the now-familiar Rayverr Queen phenotype standing behind her now-familiar podium. "Excellent. We will move our forces back to secure the territories that we now hold under our jurisdiction, and will work to repair the damages caused during this conflict. I will make sure that the Second-Daughter assigned to administrate this territory is prepared to negotiate the planned expansion corridor with you so our paths will hopefully not cross in violence again.

"The Vesh pij Verr accepts this outcome and declares its part of these hostilities gladly concluded."

------===------

That having been said, the Rayverr forces edge back, finally disengaging the ClemsonTiger aircraft and air defense. The fighters instead return to simple combat air patrols over now-Rayverr territory, and the island firebase is disassembled, ferried over to the colonial lands by auxillary dry cargo vessels. The First Army, now ensured sufficient air cover to risk their thirty-odd ADCs, finally deploys in force, a bit more than 810 thousand fighting Warriors with 1.5 million Technicians and Warriors in support, and this immediately makes up the peacekeeping and occupation forces in the colonial lands.

From Sh'kai another ADC is dispatched under honor guard, transporting Second-Daughter Yellow-Star and a retinue of Third-Daughters to act as the administration for the new Erthkai portion of the vesh pij verr. Within a few weeks, the insurgent violence by armed portions of the former Sean Empire's population dies down, victim to an apparent combination of ruthless Rayverr responses to these attacks, stringent yet benificent policies adopted by the socialist Rayverr, and the fact that the insurgents do not have the option to go to the hills--the irradiated hills. To the people there, the tripodal, three-armed creatures eventually become part of the scenery with their constant patrols, and then quiet acquaintances as some begin conversations, begin to see the strange aliens as friends. Their appearance, although strange and reptilian, always seems to induce a quiet peacefulness, wholly unlike the times past--the rememberance of which always brings feelings of shame, heat, and self-spite to the fore. Perhaps this is not so bad, people think, and their thoughts are rewarded with more content-making feelings of happiness. Contentedness and complacency spreads almost like a malarial fever in the new lands. And such is the Gift.

All Rayverr forces are rotated on a regular basis through the postnuclear wastelands and the small mountain-isolated valley that makes up the untainted center of the Erthkai lands, preventing the Warriors and their assistants from absorbing harmful doses of lingering radiation despite their CBR gear. While the Rayverr have never had a cold war, they quitely prepare for one, creating simple earthen mounds and bunkers which could house artillery and missile emplacements some time in the future. While the Holy Empire had renounced imperialism, it is never wise to fully take someone at their word, and there may come a time when Mater believes the job should be finished... but, for now, it is good.

The human populace is examined closely by the unusually efficient and effective Rayverr healthcare system; the healthiest, the most fit, and, from a wholly survivalist standpoint, the most genetically pure (i.e. lacking harmful mutations) are dispatched to live in this valley as well while the others are merely treated as best as possible. While this is questioned, even publicly, it always appears to be an academic question; it is quietly accepted as well as time progresses. And such is the Gift.

Back in her domes, Mater rolls her shoulders to herself, a soft ululating hiss snickering out from between her teeth. And so it begins. Most excellent.

As the Rayverrians began to make themselves at home in the new lands, Clemson was in the rebuilding process. Not rebuilding as in the way of repairing damage, but rebuilding as in the way of finding new leadership now the Great Emperor was dead.

Clemson was also in the process of rebuilding tarnished relations with the Rayverrians. To show their gratitude for making an honest effort to obtain a peaceful end to the conflict, Clemson sent many workers to help the Rayverrians rebuild the colonies. They also donated much cash and resources to the effort. The process of mending broken relations had now begun.

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

Meanwhile, General Isanbard's rise to power was almost complete. The Council had voted on a new leader, and he had overwhelmingly won. All that was left was to make a speech to the nation crowning himself Emperor of ClemsonTigers.

He sat down at the desk he sat at when he announced to the nation their Great Emperor's death. The camera's began rolling, and General Isanbard's figure came on everyone's television screens and his voice on everyone's radio.

Greetings, loyal citizens of ClemsonTigers. I am happy to announce the conclusion of the war. Thanks to the efforts of our men and women serving in the army, the war ended with minimal bloodshed. Now, our nation must go through a process of rebuilding.

As I announced a few weeks ago, our Great Emperor is dead. I assumed temporary control over the nation, and last night that control was made permanent by the Council. I now rule the nation of ClemsonTigers, and have crowned myself Emperor Isanbard. Officer Josh Morrison has been promoted to General Morrison, and will serve as my righthand man. General Thompson, the Emperor's grand son, will now serve as head of the Council. Congratulations to Counselor Thompson. That is all. May God bless you all, and may God bless the Rayverrians.

OOC:

Rayverr, I'll get you that puppet soon. I forgot the main colony's name, however, so I'll have to do some research first.

The attempts at reconciliation catch the Rayverr by surprise, admittedly, but it is a most welcome surprise. The large blue-plated Rayverr Warriors and the small yellow-scaled Technicians that the Tigerites meet are quite cordial and rather bright, if not overly creative; the hulking Workers with their thick, leathery hides seem to just be docile creatures of muscle that happen to share the universal three-legged three-armed Rayverr form. Among the people, there is a definite divide. Many are surprisingly happy and content, kind even to their former colonial masters if not exactly inviting. Others are... almost paranoid, seeming to avoid crowds and tending towards the Tigerite work crews on their off-hours. With sufficient beer to overcome their mistrust of their fellow man, they lean in conspiriatorially, looking around quietly.

"It's weird, friend, I'm telling you. These creatures just come out of nowhere and we're all scared. Hell, you know the stories of the old Sean Empire--the old folks still talk about dealing with aliens and stuff--but... dammit, we've never seen such a thing. There was almost panic in the street when they came through with their tanks and those brute Warriors... wondering if they were here to liberate us or eat us."

Loose lips are lubricated further by additional lager. "Still... even if they did liberate us..." A momentary flare-up of colonial discontent and mistrust, quickly put down with a grimace and another furtive glance about the bar. "Get me straight. We don't like you and you don't like us. Hell, I'm sure we've both seen our fill of bombed-out homes on both sides. But... it's just not right how quick people have turned over here. First everyone's scared, and then a few seem, y'know, unnaturally calm. And they talk and they reason, and yeah, the Rayverr don't seem hostile at all. 'Why not talk to them? I met one the other day and he was a very nice person, if different' and blah blah blah. More people meet them out of curiosity, and it seems like the longer they talk, the calmer they get. I don't know what's going on here, but I know people who were paranoid at the very thought of these Reavers running around and... suddenly they turn content. It's like they woke up new men."

At about this point in the story, each teller finishes off his drink with an almost desperate gulp. "It ain't right. It just ain't natural for men to act like that. Take care... I wouldn't hang around 'em if I were you." Their warning passed along, the paranoiacs disappear with the pass of the next Warrior patrol or the next Technician that enters the bar.

There seem to be less of them as the days go by, but the sharp observer can still see them--going about their daily business as if nothing had ever happened.