NationStates Jolt Archive

ooc: This RP is part of a lesson for Role Play University. If you are reading this and are interested in Role Play University please telegram Wolfish.

Scenario: Twenty-five years ago Wolfish aquired, as terms of a peace agreement, an isolated island named Sirik.

Five years ago General Krimson took command of the post. He has, over time, brought people under his command who are loyal to him – not to Wolfish Defense Command.

The base has now dropped off of Wolfish Defense Command’s network – and it is suspected that General Krimson has gone renegade.

Due to current tensions Wolfish Defense Command is unable to dispatch the necessary forces to ensure capture (if necessary) of the island and the General.

Wolfish President Todler has requested the aid of our ally BBTML in retaking the island.

Set Up: Sirik Island contains two airfield, each with approximately 60 attack helos, 100 fighter aircraft, 20 bombers, and logistical support craft.

The island has significant defensive systems, including long, medium and short range anti air systems; anti ship systems; and the like.

Sirik Island contains approximately 1,000 troops and 3,500 support personnel. There are also about 500 civilians.

The island base also has five coastal patrol frigates under its command.

BBTML will be able to field two Nimitz-type carrier battle groups (exact composition is up to you as it’s a tactical decision). The fleet should contain an appropriate level of Marine-type forces, landing craft, and support personnel.

Other than ship-based aircraft – you will have no air support. Sirik is too isolated for homeland forces to reach.

Ooc: Once you’ve absorbed all this, and asked any questions, I’ll prepare the first post. Take your time and plan it out. You may want to talk with Hatch and see how he did. Learn from his experience.

Good Luck.
W.

BBTML, please don't hesitate to ask if I can be of any help to you as you head into the heart of darkness.
/I'll stay out of this thread, though.

(OOC: Hey Wolfish, can I join the RP University as an instructor?)

OOC-Okay, I need a map of the island, along with anything intel or a Keyhole pass would pick up, like the locations of ports, towns, airfields. And another thing, I need climate and terrain on the island. I don't wanna be sending Marines prepared for a tropical island onto one that resembles an Artic soviet base.

Good start.

The island is located in a sub-tropical zone. It is currently the wet season.

See the map below for infomation gained from a typical spy sat pass.

The river is not deep enough for more than a small dingy type boat.

Note, just south of the northern airport are a series of circles. Those are fuel depots. Pipelines run underground.

There are also several hardened bunkers underground - including ammo dumps.

Here is the map - though these posts never work, so the hard link is http://www.freewebs.com/wolfish/


http://www.freewebs.com/wolfish/Sirik%20Island.gif

OOC-Alrighty then... I assume I have no option of say, an Arc-Light from BBTML airbases?

Even though they're Nimitz groups, I can still use all the modified European and Eastern aircraft designs I have off of them, right?

I'm still going through tactics ideas...

OOC-Alrighty then... I assume I have no option of say, an Arc-Light from BBTML airbases?

Even though they're Nimitz groups, I can still use all the modified European and Eastern aircraft designs I have off of them, right?

I'm still going through tactics ideas...

If you are talking about the carpet bombing missions over Vietnam - ummm, no.

If you wish to replace the Nimitz with your domestic carrier of similar capabilities feel free - otherwise, your planes will be compatable with the Nimitz.

OK, force composition
2 Torg Class Carriers, each with
20 F27K Interceptors
30 F25BB Super Rafale BBTML variants
20 EF-18 "Screamer" Hornet EW Aircraft
10 SV-22E Albatross
10 RAH-66 Sea Comanche
Each Torg is escorted by
2 Oasis Destroyers
2 Arleigh Burke BB BBTML Variant
2 Zumwalt BB BBTML Variant Destroyers
2 Oliver Hazard Perry Frigates
2 Challenger Class Submarines
3 Supply Class replenishment ships
One Marine Expeditionary Unit with 9,000 Marines, 2 Viking Assault Ships with 45 MH-53BB, 50 Amphibious Assault Vehicles, 15 RAH-66BB Super Comanches.
That sound OK?

A couple subs maybe? Usually Battlegroups travel with at least one each. Plus - if you want to launch Spec-Ops missions - they are the perfect platform.

Other than that - looks good. Watch your logistics when you land those marines. Its a tough assignment.

Cheers,
W.

:tag:

ooc: If you have more questions that's okay - I just thought I'd get this posted while I have the time. I suggest you start when your gov't receives the request - and dispatches the fleet.

ic:

General Krimson stood proudly in the parade stand as the troops marched smartly past. He dress “Crimson” uniform pressed to perfection – he dark hair, greying at the temples, trimmed short.

Captain Sturgeon stood “two back and one left” – too often the General had pointed out that the young captain was out of position.

“Captain – good parade. Tell the men they can have dessert.”

“Yes Sir. That will please them Sir.”

“Now. Lets head over to the ammo storage “echo”. I want to see that the new Moskit missiles are stored properly.”

“Sir.” Was the only response needed from the young Captain.

And in spite of the General’s need for perfection on the base – the Captain felt lucky. He was one of the General’s chosen.

Picked from hundreds – promoted ahead of his peers – given prime assignments throughout his career that gave him experiences that few Majors would ever have.

Now – now he was the General’s personal aide – by his side day and night.

Of course there were other “chosen” – in fact every one on the base was hand picked over years – bought under the General’s command. Serving and willing to die for the man that ensured their success.

The jeep was waiting for them – the driver gripping the steering wheel nervously while the General sat now next to him.

“Echo Storage, Private.” Ordered the Captain.

“Yes Sir.” He said as he pulled away from the parade ground.

The drove past the northern airfield – a row of B1-Bs lined the deck as mechanics worked their magic to make sure every part worked to perfection. Failure at Camp Sirik was not tolerated.

The jeep sped up as the road grew wider as they moved south – past the fuel depot – the tall stainless fuel towers gleaming in the morning sun.

They pulled up in front of the bunker entrance – unmarked in any way – simply what looked like a concrete “pill box” on an abandoned rifle range – but once through the door – one would note that this wasn’t a cement bunkers.

http://tea.rice.edu/Images/dbrown/dbrown_WWII_Pill_Box.jpg

The elevator doors opened and the General stepped in first. Placing his eye against the retinal scanner – the doors closed and the elevator began it 60 foot descent into the foundation of the island.

Once the doors opened, the General’s face opened up into a rare grin.

“Look at that, will you Captain.”

“Yes Sir.”

Crews in red jump suits were working feverously to load freshly painted weapon racks with the Moskit missiles – the first shipment (and likely the last) this base had received.

The missile systems had been installed months ago – but there had been some conflict that required Wolfish Defense Command to divert their supply.

But now – 2000 missiles – capable of traveling at mach 3 mere metres above the waves – were ready for action.

(Background on missile: http://www.fas.org/man/dod-101/sys/missile/row/moskit.htm note: Wolfish has modified this missile to serve as a land-based missile as well as air and ship bourn)

“Ever served on a ship Captain?”

“Yes Sir. I was on a carrier for three months off the coast of Tuttsville…We never landed, but the fleet saw lots of action. My wife jokes that if we ever try to have kids, they’ll likely glow in the dark what with all the EMP bursts going off.”

“Well son. These missiles will change the way navies fight. It’ll put the fear of god into them anyway.”

“Yes Sir,” said the Captain – staring at the slate gray missiles with new respect.

OOC-2000 Moskits? That's a lot of missiles... Those things are pretty big too.
President Markham looked over the request in irritation.
"They have one of the most powerful navies in the goddamn world, and they want us to do it? Christ..."
An Admiral, Commander of the Navy, stepped up to the President as they began moving to the Command Room through the Minilopian Office. The Command Room was walled in gray, with oak furniture and many screens and computers.
"Mr. President, we have to accept their offer. Besides, we need a field test for the new equipment. If we use Vandal, we can bomb them into submission before we ever need to land."
"Well, Vandal, and Wetball, and Caterpillar, and all that other techno-sh*t we blew our budget on better goddamn work, because if it doesn't, the next time you command anything other than your dog is going to be a cold day in hell. Now get Task Force 01 and 02 moving, they are the ones who were gearing up for manuvers, right?"
"Yessir, that'd be them. I'll get right on it."
Markham sighed once more as he sat in the chair, wondering if this was really worth it.
--
http://mahq.net/mecha/macross/zero/asca.jpg
The Torg, the largest ship class in the Minilopian arsenal, was primed for action. Rows of aircraft sat on the deck, ready for action. The carriers Torg and Riff each carried 90 Aircraft, and had recently upgraded "Wasp Nest" CIWS and RAM defensive systems. The ships cut through the water, with their escorts around them in every direction, the dark gray craft on a serious mission, the first military action of the Minilopian Navy and Marines. There were a few of the old American classes mixed in, some Arleigh Burkes and Perry's looking almost anachronistic among the sleek and angular forms of the stealthy Oasis and Zumwalt BB destroyers. Near the rear, the bulky forms of supply ships and the Marine assault ships were found, their decks littered with the green-grey camoflauge of the Marine rotorcraft. Under the waves, four Minisub equipped Challenger class subs lurked. The Challenger was based on American plans for a deep diving combat sub, officially capable of going 3000 meters under, but the ability wouldn't be necessary. What was important was that they could sneak to the coast, and hopefully get off the Marine Force Recon teams quickly. The armada was still weeks from Wolfish, but all were ready for the combat that would surely follow. Within the bowels of the Torg, in the Combat Information Center, Task Force Commander Admiral David Oppenherr looked over a giant LCD screen showing the island, the satellite picture, and the locations of their ships.

Good luck BBML.. im sure you'll pass.

OOC-Thanks much... I won't be on all that much today, probably not on at all tomorrow, so I hope Wolfish doesn't mind.

The Wolfish Guided Missile Frigate Valour (Sirik) slipped her moorings and left the harbour for the test range.

On the deck, the new, enlarged missile launcher sat on the forward deck plating – the grey paint still wet

Captain Taggart looked out from the bridge – the blue ocean stretching out past the harbour markers in an unending sheet.

“Mr. Hammerstein – set course 230 – all possible speed.”

“Aye Sir – course 230 – full speed.”

The ship listed to port as the engines dug into the water. The XO picked up a sheet of paper off the secure fax and turned to face his captain.

“Sir – Defense Control reports the target ship is in position.”

“Very good. I’m going to tour the ship – call General Quarters once we are five miles out.”

“Aye Sir.”

The Captain walked out into the warm ocean air – his mind actively considering all that had happened in recent weeks and months – the call from the General to transfer to Sirik – the reorganization of his crew – and now new weapon systems…it was a lot to take in – and this would be the first test…

The Captain slipped below decks as busy crewmen and women moved out of his way – he past the kitchen and saw the cook busy polishing the row of coffee urns, his assistant chopping meat for tonight’s stew.

As he made his way to weapons storage klaxons sounded thoughout the ship – “General Quarters – General Quarters – all hands to Battle Stations.”

The Captain turned to head back to the CIC – and came face-to-face with a young seaman – frozen with indecision.

“Problem Son?” the Captain asked in a reassuring tone.

“Sir…Sir I – I’m supposed to be on fire suppression team Charlie – and I can’t remember where we rally.”

“Aft helo pad….Is this your first tour?”

“Yes Sir – I just arrived from Wolfhair Island yesterday.”

“Its okay – we’ve all been there. Now get to your station.”

“Aye Sir.”

The Captain moved up the stairs and entered the darkened CIC. Red lights cast an eerie glow on the faces of the crew working quietly at their stations.

“Captain on Deck,” called the XO as the Captain gave him a wink. “Ran into a new seaman,” the Captain said as he took his seat, “Didn’t even know where his battlestation was.”

“Aye Sir. We got some newbie’s on board – but we’ll get them there.”

The Captain grunted his reply.

“Captain – General Krimson on the hotline Sir.”

“General? Captain Taggart. Yes Sir – we went to Battlestations a moment ago – the target is just coming into range. The test will be over in about 20 minutes….Very good Sir. Thank you.”

He hung up the phone. “XO – Our status?”

“Sir – all hands are at battlestations. Weapons are hot. We have one target on radar bearing 8-8 degrees, range 205 kilometres. Sonar reports no contacts.”

“Very good. Launch the helo for eyes on target.”

“Aye.”

Within a minute the helicopter took off and headed east towards the target, its live-action camera broadcasting back to the warship.

“Sir – the helo is in position.”

The Captain turned to look at his screen – rocking gently in the waves, over 200 km away was an old Destroyer – a leftover from the days of the RGGA wars.

“XO – fire when ready.”

“Aye Sir. Mr. Johnston – engage targeting radar – and fire when locked.”

“XO – AYE,” replied the calm Johnston, “Targeting radar locked. Weapons are hot…and launching now-now-now.”

One the third now, the weapons control officer pushed the control button on his display and immediately felt the ship lurch as the 4,500 kg missile blasted out of its launch canister.
http://www.phoenixtv.com/home/news/review/images/review104334.gif

Johnston watched his screen as the red “actual” missile course lined up with his pre-projected “green” course line. The two merged perfectly. “Missile is on course – passing mach 3 now.”

The missile flight plan for this tested called for a high initial altitude, followed by a sudden plunge to the “deck” seconds before hitting the target. The weapons officer could track and correct the course of the missile – but there was no need in this case – the missile was performing flawlessly.

“10 seconds,” Johnson called, as 150 km’s away the missile plunged from 10,000 feet to just a 40 feet above the wave tops. Seconds later its 320 kg, nickel plated warhead slammed into the target ship at the waterline – a huge fireball erupted and caused the Captain to pull back from his monitor.

http://www.ussmullinnix.org/Sinkex_Fireball_Navy.jpg

As the aperture of the helo’s camera adjusted to the receding glow, the Captain watched in fascination as the ship began to break in two at the impact point. Its back broken – and its hull quickly filling with water.

http://www.ussmullinnix.org/Sinkex_BrokenBack_Navy.jpg

“XO – Report.”

“Sir. Impact confirmed. Target is going down. Weapon canister 3 is being reloaded – radar is active and has no targets. Sonar remains clear other than a new track as the target goes under.”

“Very good. Secure from General Quarters. But lets set up a random schedule of drills to get this crew in shape.”

“Aye Sir.”

The armada's days at sea had been spent quickly, but now they were within 700 miles of the island, which meant all ships were on full alert. The sleek hulls of the Oasis class destroyers lead the armada, their advanced sensors ready to locate any incoming objects. Angular Zumwalt BBs waited for their chance, each loaded with anti-shipping and anti-sub weapons that sat smugly in their tubes and racks. F-27K were on constant patrol, and their dark shapes flittled throughout the day. Under the rolling waves, a different kind of activity was occuring. The MLS Challenger, a concrete sub piggybacking on it's hull, began to separate from the fleet at a silent 20 knots. The concrete sub was an interesting design, taken from the Russians. The midget subs came in both manned and unmanned varieties, and their deep diving abilities and low detectablility made them well suited to hunter killer and covert operations. The type of C-sub leeching through the dark waters with the Challenger was a manned, and could 24 Naval Special Warfare soldiers when the time came for the recon landings. But they were still too far from Sirik, so the NSWs had to make like the rest of them and wait.

Oppenherr paced the deck, watching the aircraft descend from the East onto the carrier deck, their silhouettes outlined in a orange sun. He turned as he saw Commodore McKarner, commander of the Torg.
"Commodore, good to see you. Are the men prepared?"
"Ready as ever. A lot of them think it'll be a walkover, though."
"You'll have to scratch that thought, intel shows there was an SS-N-24 Sunburn test, and that they might have 1000, 1500 or more Moskies stocked up."
"Well goddamn."
"NeedleBank can intercept them, right?"
"Most of 'em. But if we don't clean them up, those Redstripes* are gonna have a hell of a time."
"Well, update the men. Best we can do now is be prepared."
"Yessir."
As the commodore walked off, Oppenherr gazed into the sunset again.
How many sunrises and sunsets will pass until war is upon us?
--
*Redstripes-BBTML Marines, comes from the red stripes on the sleeves of their Class As and WWI era uniforms. While they have since gone to USMC style "Digital Dot" pattern camo, the term stuck.

*Sirik Island, Northern Airfield*

The control tower watched silently as the drone left the runway, gained a hundred feet of altitude and banked north.

“That the last of them?” asked the bored radar operator.

“Yep – we’ve got three up and three back in the shed for maintenance.”

“It’s been a while since we’ve used so many…”

“Well – I wouldn’t know about that – its best not to notice – you know that.”

The radar operator just nodded and went back to his crossword puzzle.

The drone was now three kilometers off shore and gradually climbing. It would level off at 60,000 feet. Together with the other UAVs it would follow a pre-determined patrol route – scanning both visual and uv light for any approaching vessels or aircraft in a 1,700 km radius around the island.

*8 hours later*

http://www.iss.northgrum.com/new_fact_sheets/Northrop/Digital_press_kit/AFA/global_hawk_images/gh_1.jpg

The pictures were beamed back periodically from the UAVs – though the software had pattern sensing ability, which would sound an alarm if any of a number of programmed patterns showed up on its cameras – thus eliminating the potential for a bored operator to miss a “hostile”.

As the transmission was received, a red light and buzzer switched on, grabbing the attention of everyone in the control room

“Sir – burst incoming from UAV 5-7 Baker. Showing what looks like a carrier escort…yes Sir…I can clearly make out the outline of a destroyer-class ship – and a larger ship a couple ‘clicks’ behind.”

“Very good Lieutenant.”

Major Caven turned and picked up the control phone line – “Wake the General. We have hostiles at...” he flipped the map book to a different page, “700 km – north-north-east. We are retasking the UAV to survey the area.”

Caven hung up the phone – it would take a minute to get the General out of bed – in the meantime he put a call into the airfield command.

“Alert 3. Get the planes fuelled and ready. Don’t wake the pilots yet. But I want to be ready to go if he gives the order.”

He hung up and poured himself another cup of coffee. It might be the only thing to keep him going for the next couple of days.

"Whoah, we've got something here!"
The call of the radio systems operator brought life into the tired Combat Information center.
"We're picking up a small contact, not very large, 60,000 feet, subsonic."
"No birds going that fast up there. Possible UAV or high-altitude low-profile recce plane, alert patrol Mustang Four, tell them to poke their eyes out."

The pair of F-27K fighters, their sleek forms painted in "Ironball" RAM, detected the UAV, and the short encrypted transmission from the Torg, and began moving for an attack vector, pulling up to 50,000 feet, about 50 miles behind the UAV. Positive radar and IR lock were confirmed, and the variably guided AIM-108 "Cold Touch" long range missiles were ready. The planes began 'painting' the UAV, and if it were a manned craft, the shrill sound of a missile lock warning would have eminated throughout the cockpit. But they did not fire. It was time for Mustang Four One and Four Two to see how well the aircraft could dance.

On the carrier, the alert status was increased, with elements of every type of aircraft ready to go. NeedleBank PDS and RAM looked towards the skies as they prepared for the worst.

The MLS Challenger began to slow as the Platoon of NSW operators moved towards the C-Sub, decked in Underwater operations gear, body armor, and water sealed weapons. The Concrete midget sub's hatch closed, as the small, stealthy craft began to separate from the Challenger, it's concrete hull allowing it to go deeper and less noticeably than other, larger subs. The little vehicle turned, and began to make it's course for land at 10 knots.

ooc: Remember your mission - at this point all Wolfish and BBTML know is that Sirik is not on our network - we suspect he may have gone maverick - but we don't know. Shooting down a very expensive UAV...possibly premature.

OOC- I may edit, but I was under impression your govt. wanted us to take it out...

ooc: fair enough - I'll rp it out as is.

OOC-I did do an edit, I haven't fired yet now.

ooc: Okay - I'll post tomorrow.

General Krimson was in a remarkably good mood for having been woken up at 3 a.m.

“What have we got?” he asked as he entered the darkened control room.

The Major jumped to his feet, “General…Sir. UAV 5-7 Baker transmitted images of a destroyer class vessel approximately 700 miles north, northeast of our position. We retasked the drone, and have just received pictures of an entire carrier taskforce on a heading for Sirik.

Thermal images and radar sensors show that the enemy is aware of the UAV – and has scrambled to intercept. But at this time has not fired on the craft.”

“What is its chance of survival if those planes fire?” asked Krimson as he accepted a cup of steaming coffee from a PFC.

“Sir – UAV 5-7 Baker is a second generation vehicle, meaning that it has no defensive or evasion capability. It will be blown out of the sky should they fire.”

“Very well. Have it re-confirm the course and heading of the fleet and return to base.”

“Aye Sir.”

“Once that’s done, I want a senior staff meeting in…” the General looked at his watch, “two hours. I want staff prepared with options.”

“Aye General.”

Krimson turned and walked out of the control room, heading to the mess – where he’d spend the next two hours preparing to poke holes in the plans of his officers.

"Mustang Four One to Albatross, Bandit One bugging out."
"Roger that Mustang, Albatross confirms."
Albatross was a large ELINT/AWACS aircraft, similar to the Hawkeye. Instead of bombs, it carried sensors and Recon UAVs. The unmanned craft, about the size of a cruise missile, but with a different profile, were packed with equipment both to see and prevent others from doing so. The 3 aircraft dropped from the Albatross, their stubby wings unfolding as their turbojets kicked in, on a preprogrammed flight path around the island, using jammers similar to those of the EA-6. Each was designed to foul radars and radios, as well as fill them with gibberish. Their "Trojan Horse" pods made them seem huge, the size of 5 airliners, and were likely to cause havoc on unprepared radio and radar operatiors, as well as AAD.

The small C-sub poked it's way towards Central East Sirik, the 24 NSWs preparing for a long stay in the swamps. While the deep depth and nearly invisible sonar signature were nice, it didn't take away the chances of detection. But hopefully, their fuzzy and scattered signature would make them more like a school of fish, and not a boatload of commandos.

"General?" the young controller said as he looked up from his radar screen. "We've gone blind Sir. They are jamming us."

"To be expected son. Get a message to the Valiant - tell her Captain to make contact with the hostile - and inform them that they are committing an act of war against Wolfish."

"Aye Sir."

The message was sent to the Frigate, laying some 100 km off shore. In the CIC the "Blast Fax" machine started to chirp as the encrypted data feed arrived.

"HOT FAX" called the Ensign as he told the paper off the machine and handed it to the XO.

"Call the Captain to the bridge Ensign," said the XO as he began to read the new orders.

"Aye Sir," said the young crewman has he picked up the microphone and called the Captain forward.

Moments later Captain Paulie was on the standard marine radio hailing the enemy fleet.

"Unknown force 700 km north, northwest of the Wolfish island of Sirik. Be notified and aware that your actions constitute a hostile action against the nation of Wolfish. Please cease your jamming activities at once. Do you copy? Over."

"Now we wait."

"Sirik, we're under orders to ensure that this island is not under rouge command or operation, by order of the Wolfish government. We will cease jamming activities once you deactivate all Active AAD radar so that we may send in the inspection team."
Turning from the radio, the Admiral spoke.
"Prepare Foragers One and Two for takeoff."

The C-Sub was now 12 miles from Wolfish, the cavity on it's back flooding slowly and quitely as the BUDS equipped divers assembled the ArmorFloat Zodiac boats. As the C-sub made a few more Blue-Green LIDAR sweeps to make sure nobody was within visual range, they hooked on to the 4 Zodiacs and opened the top cavity, floating to the surface with the inflatables.

“Sir – I am sure you will understand the difficult situation you are placing me in.

Sirik Island has indeed fallen off the Wolfish Defense Command grid. We are an isolated outpost, experiencing sever technical difficulties.

So, we have no way to judge your statement as true or false – we have no way to confirm your orders with our command – so to disengage our defensive systems and allow you, a possibly hostile force directly off our shoreline, to enter Wolfish territory – is a difficult decision.

I will have to consult with my General – may I tell him what the composition of this inspection team will be?

“Sir – I am sure you will understand the difficult situation you are placing me in.

Sirik Island has indeed fallen off the Wolfish Defense Command grid. We are an isolated outpost, experiencing sever technical difficulties.

So, we have no way to judge your statement as true or false – we have no way to confirm your orders with our command – so to disengage our defensive systems and allow you, a possibly hostile force directly off our shoreline, to enter Wolfish territory – is a difficult decision.

I will have to consult with my General – may I tell him what the composition of this inspection team will be?

"If everything goes as planned, we'll only be sending two SV-22BB Sea Osprey Tiltrotors, loaded with Foreign Intelligence Agency investigators, and two squads of Marines to escort. We know this is hard to ask, but intel from both us and your nation shows you have a large stock of AAD and Supersonic Antishipping weapons."
--
The men unclipped from the Zodiacs, and moved deeper in, and some got off the zodiacs to dive in the shallower waters, surveying the beach just north of the delta for any kinds of obstructions.

I have received word from the base that two Ospreys are cleared for flight operations to the northern base.

Be advised, due to the uncertainty of the situation, there will be armed security at the landing site.

Once you are on the ground, you will be met by Major Liz Bonner who will be happy to assist you in sorting out this problem.

As – be advised that flight operations over the island will not be tolerated until this is sorted out.

The marines dressed themselves in Green-Gray "Digital Dot" fatigues as they slapped magazines of ammunition into the Steyr AUG-BB rifles, modified to fire the new 6.8mm round. The dark blue suited non combat personnel were already sitting in the Sea Osprey as the Marines piled in, swearing, talking, and laughing. The tiltrotors began to spin as the gray-on-gray aircraft began to lift from the decks, and then reconfigured the engines for forward-flight mode as they flew towards Sirik, easily detectable on radar. No escorts were sent, although the operators were making notes on the transmission location of the Wolfish officer on the other end, should worse come to worse. In the bridge of the Torg, the command crew watched as the two aircraft slowly faded away.