NationStates Jolt Archive

The Desolation of Wolfish: Pt 1 The Fall (pages 1-5)

The Desolation of Wolfish: Pt 2 First Blood (pages 5-?)

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http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=126206

Two Weeks Ago: Office of President James Todler, Wolfish, 10 p.m.

The massive building rose from the concrete - a glass and steel tribute to economic strength and world domination.

But all was not well in the Empire.

Senior staff walked into the President’s office right on time for the evening “wrap” meeting. And it had not been a good day.

James Todler sat behind his massive desk – across its length the ceremonial sword he’d used to mobilize Wolfish citizens in the Tuttsville conflict. Its inlaid gold gleaming as the staff took their seats for the meeting.

“Mr. President,” said Mike Schnell, Todler’s Chief of Staff as he closed the door and took his seat.

James nodded a distracted acknowledgment as he starred out of the window – the 90 story building providing him a stunning view of the darkened city, “So – was today as bad as I think it was?”

“Well Sir…well yes. Yes it was.”

Todler couldn’t face his staff – his eyes scanned the city – trying to see the outskirts 100 kilometres away, “Um-Hum. And what’s the news from agriculture?”

“Well Sir – it seems – it seems its quite bad – corn reserves in the Eastern States have been contaminated by locust in the storage bins – flooding in the Vulcan river valley as decimated new plantings of soy and wheat...”

“Locust?” Todler interrupted. “Like from the bible?”

“Yes Sir – it seems that this came out of no where. Usually our scientists can tell at least a year in advance if there is going to be an invasion – but this year – we didn’t see it coming until a couple weeks ago.’’

Todler was fully engaged now, “Okay – so basically some big grasshoppers have come out of no where and eaten all our corn – and on the other side of the country a river overran its banks - other than the obvious economic cost to the farmers – what’s the damage to the nation?”

“Sir – it’s possible that this will have a ripple effect. Hundreds of farmers are going broke – others will make claims onto their insurance – either way – millions of dollars will be sucked out of the economy. These farmers won’t buy new equipment – go on vacation – buy luxury items…it’s the multiplier effect in reverse.”

“How do we fix it?”

“We don’t yet know Sir. We don’t have a good sense of the entire scope yet. This may get much worse.”

“Why’s that?” said the fading President.

“Tomorrow morning the Wolfish Post will report that many pension funds had invested heavily in agricultural futures this year – particularly in the corn and canola crops. Some of our oldest and largest trading houses may go bust – but worse than that – many pensioners and retirees will be penniless.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Collectively staff around the briefing table averted their eyes from the President as he finally turned from the window – they couldn’t bear to see the toil this job had taken on the man they had respected and worked with for so long.

“Sir…the…the nation is in real trouble Sir.”

“Yes it is,” he said, feeling more tired than he could ever remember being in his life.

=*=*=*=*=
*One Week Ago: Near Camden*

Jonathan Maker had been a farmer for 40 years – his father and his grandfather before him – the family farm had been build with care – supporting them all in good times and in bad.

But no longer – Maker stood on the edge of his fields. Where once stood corn, wheat, canola and soybeans, now lay dust – swirling in the wind – blowing to the mountains lying to the north.

It was over – his future – the family’s future – all blowing away on the wind.

“Jon?” his wife called from the house, “Jon you coming in?”

“Yes dear,” his automatic response. “Be right there.”

He turned and walked.

It didn’t used to be like this, he thought. Now farming was as much a business as a computer factory.

In his grandfather’s day – before the ECONs took over the government – there was the hope of a government bailout for farmers. Or, at the very least, a farmer could get insurance for a decent price.

Now, without government support, the farmer bet fate every time he planted – he bet that the weather would hold – that the rain would come – that the sun wouldn’t cook the crop – that there wouldn’t be hail – that…well a thousand bets.

And his chips had run out.

The locust had eaten his past and his future.

He opened the door to the farmhouse – his wife was busy at the kitchen counter. He unlocked the gun cabinet beside the door, and took up his 12-gauge and loaded two shells.

“Whattya doing honey?” his wife asked without turning.

She never heard the bang. Her body slumped onto the floor as Jonathan turned his head away.

He walked into the living room, and looked at the picture of his wife on the mantle.

No one was near to hear the second bang.

*=*=*=

*Yesterday, Jones-Halpun Investment Dealers Tower, Wolfish*

Jenna Phillips was a couple thousand kilometres away from the farm, and even if she knew the Maker’s she wouldn’t have cared at this moment.

“Jenna – any news on the agri front?”

Her boss stared across the polished oak, boardroom table at here – hope mingled with fear in his eyes.

“Ummm,” she began, fumbling with her colour handouts, “The short answer is “no”. But I think we can still bank on a recovery in the livestock markets – imports of feed will begin to accelerate shortly – but,” she paused to catch her breath, “The ‘futures’ we bet on earlier this year have tanked. There is no future in any of the cash or grain crops. The locust destroyed virtually 100 per cent of production. Our best bet right now is to bail out of the agri market, and look to foreign investments to begin to recover our losses.”

“And what’s the damage to date?”

“Early numbers – including a strong recovery of the livestock markets suggest that we will have lost somewhere in the neighbourhood of 1 trillion dollars. But – the good news is that our competitors had invested more heavily in this year’s soy crop – our
Intelligence sources inside Wayland Peters Investments, for example, suggest that they may not survive this downturn. If the market calls on their ‘buys’ they’ve had it. They’ll be packing their desks before the end of the week.”

*=*=*=

*This morning*

When Wesley Krannock woke he didn’t know it would be the last time.

He rose at 5:20 a.m. and as always showered, ate and dressed within 30 minutes – walking down the street to the subway stop for the 80 minute commute into the core of the financial district.

His day – like his week, and his month – sucked. He was a futures trader. And right now in Wolfish there was no future in agriculture.

He slipped into the morning meeting to hear that “buy” orders were by approval only. That meant the floor traders had their hands tied – no spending money – which also meant that the bosses were really worried about this downturn.

The morning session was slow on the floor of the exchange – the plasma screens showed the numbers – up 10,000 – down 30….never sustaining a climb, but declining steadily across the scope of crops.

By noon there was no enthusiasm on the floor for any big deals – no one saw any way out of the mood – particularly when the bad news hadn’t yet stopped.

So Wesley went back up to his office to grab some lunch – maybe watch the news…..but he never made it that far.

He stepped off the elevator and saw to his horror his boss – Mr. Iano – standing with a shotgun in the middle of the office.

“IT’S NOT WORTH IT,” he shouted – an insane look in his eyes – “THEY CAN’T DO THIS – WE BUILT THIS F*CKING COMPANY FROM THE GROUND UP.”

Wesley crouched low to the floor – he didn’t feel particularly brave or noble – but he knew that if he could stop Mr. Iano from doing something stupid – perhaps he’d be rewarded with a promotion – hell – that was about the only way he’d get extra money this year….

The waited until Iano’s back was to him, and he stood, moving quietly towards his boss.

But before he reached the trouble man, Iano turned….

“Wesley – Wesley,” he sobbed. “We’re all f*cked.”

Wesley stopped, and looked into his boss’s eyes – saw the desperation…then watched a streak of flame shoot from the barrel.

When the police arrived Iano’s body sat slumped against the elevator door – forcing the cops to step over it to see the other dozen victims spread throughout the office floor.

James Arsten, Commandant of the Air Force, looked over the latest "hot spot" reports. The reports were required reading for Generals and up, and there was no shortage of them this week. Even the UCSNEs old allies had been getting into disputes. But the Wolfish situation was a concern.
"Suicide rates aren't looking good, a couple mad gunmen in major industries, huge decrease in agriculture output due to locust plauges, some of the symptoms of revolt, socialist revolt at that, in one of the most powerful nations of the world. Keep me posted."
"I will sir." replied the aide as he typed in the request to the network.

OIS Command
Valhalla Command Center
Transnapastain

A youngish looking officer entered General Davis’ office

“Sir! I don’t know if you’re interested in this or not, but I was reading the Wolfish post this morning, they are reporting that their economy has taking a big hit, I checked with SatRec and they report flooding in the Vulcan Valley, and some corn fields just up and vanished…..locusts is the current guess my Analysis. Anyway, it looks like the Wolfish economy has taken a MAJOR hit”

General Davis looked up from his morning reports, and regarded the young Lieutenant.

“Hmm, Interesting, tag it and keep an eye on it, if anything else interesting happens, let me know

“Yessir!” she said, saluted and departed

As Ceron stepped into the airplane one of his advisors ran up to him.

"Sir, sir, the nation Wolfish have taken a large hit on their economy."

"Härligt, finally they will see what happens if you use such a corrupt politics as their's."

"Well, I don't know. They are a pretty big nation, so they mayhap survive this crisis. I wouldn't be too sure that they will be too happy change into socialism in a while."

"Jäklar, just give it time, just give it some time, Vladimir.

Ceres Agricombine
Fifty-Third Floor
Marketing Office

Jacob Delmarcates, known as Del by his coworkers, was having a great day. That was, he had had a great day, until now. He looked down at the memo in his hand, and at the door infront of him. Why am I, a seventh floor employee, being summoned to the Marketting VP Office?

He wiped his palms on his coat again, and looked around, not yet daring to open the oaken door. Other employees didn't look too hard, they had seen many others shake at this door. But still, Delmarcates was loathe to open it. God knows what they're going to make me do. It will probably cost me a fortune, and then I'll take the fall for it, then I'll be penniless, then- He wanted to slap himself. Jacob, really! Do you think that they would have called you this high, just to fire you?

He opened the door.

Inside, Sandra Fuentes, VP of Marketing, and a man in an Armani suit and sunglasses waited. Jacob felt his knees give out, and he let out a small "Eep!". ISA! The mother-loving ISA! In her office! Shit! Jacob quickly reviewed his past day, trying to scrounge up anything "unpatriotic" he might have done. I didn't tip the gas station attendant... no, that can't be it...

The man in the suit laughed slightly, "Don't worry, Mr. Delmarcates. I'm not here for you." Jacod relaxed, visibly slumping on the door. The man commented to Fuentes, "It only took him fifteen seconds to open the door. Faster than most." He pulled his sunglasses off. "Agent Bowen. I'm here, because there's a problem your company can solve... and make a profit."

Fuentes smiled to Delmarcates. "Please, pull up a chair. And, close the door." Delmarcates did so, and the VP continued. "Now, you've been working on the Next Generation of wheat, right?"

Delmarcates nodded, trying to cover his earlier nervousness with professional expertise. A biological engineer, he was project head of one of the NXG Crops, in particular, the grains. "Yes, ma'am. We've been taking over research where most companies left off after the Terminator Seed Scare a while back. Basically, we produce an extremely healthy, robust crop that can grow in poor soil, with no water, and carries more nutrients than any natural crop. The trade-off... it cannot polenate. It is a sterile crop, and the only ones that retain the ability to reproduce are kept here, in Ceres."

Fuentes spoke to Bowen, "So, Agent, we have this: a strong, healthy plant, that must be replanted each year. It's the best crop you've ever seen, but it has to be purchased every year, from us. A sound marketting strategy, really. Where we sell it, they soon buy every year, even with initial doubts. However, people are afraid to open their markets, for fear of growing dependant on our gen-en seeds."

Bowen glanced back to Delmarcates. "How much of these seeds do you have in storage?"

"Well, sir... we have about seven billion... but I can't get more precise without production logs..."

Bowen nodded. "Good enough."

Delmarcates asked, "Does this have to do with the Wolfish situation?"

Bowen glanced up. "You're a sharp one. We need that." He sighed a little, glanced out the window at the city beyond. "With the economic collapse in Wolfish, a lot of people are starving, and the effects will radiate. Our perogative is to be there, in the vacuum, offering stability. This is an opportunity, people.

Bowen turned back, explaining, "Now, Wolfish had one of the most powerful economies in the world. If we can get our products in there, we will gain influence on a ton of close-linked markets. Even better, with your one-generation seeds, because the market becomes tied to ours. Not only are we gaining relevance, but we're being the good guys.

"Now, this is chance of a life time for your company. You can take it, and expand into a huge market, and become internationally respected, and to validate your gen-en crops as good. Or, we can go to another company."

Fuentes stated. "No need to discuss this further. I'll speak for the board now. We'll take this contract."

Bowen nodded. "Very good. I'll need all of those grains loaded up onto cargo vessels and be ready to set sail in a week. And get your production running, doubletime."

"That's no problem, sir." Delmarcates declared. "We've been running at five percent of capacity for the past decade, because the eco-protestors don't like us messing with nature. I'll get the boys and girls in production gearing up!" Delmarcates could see promotion in this... maybe even to VP level! He could move his family into one of the upper class areas. Maybe on the bay!

Bowen bowed slightly. "Music to my ears. Remember, though, this will not pay off immeadiately. This is an investment into Wolfish, and one of opportunity. But, when this pays off... it will be huge dividends, and other gains..." From the statement, it was clear that the Agent was more concerned with these vague "others", but for Delmarcates and Fuentes, it was as simple as profit. "I shall be off." The Agent nodded to them both. "A pleasure doing business. And remember, you've made friends with the ISA now. You'll find it very rewarding." The Agent left, and the two business people were already working on shipping and distribution problems, calling in other specialists and managers...

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

As Bowen got outside, he flipped his cell-phone up. "This is Bowen." he stated. There was a pause. "Yes, they're going along." .... "Third company today, Director. You were right, they're all jumping on this." ... "Yes, Gimble and Owens agreed to prop up the Wolfish National Bank." ... he chuckled... "Give this ten years, sir, and we'll all be rich men." ... "Good day, sir." Bowens closed the phone.

He glanced into the midday sun, chomping on some roasted chestnuts he had purchased. We're putting a lot into that country. Come ten years, we'll be reaping rewards. As long as no one does anything stupid, this could the most beneficial move in recent history. Little did Bowen know.

"...meanwhile our trade to Zvarinograd has increased this fiscal year thanks to our growing popularity in their nation." the Fred Galwitz, Minister of Trade had been going on for some time now, slowly going down the list of nations Iuthia exported to.

James deGritz hated these things, he was meant to be running a nation not listening to financial reports, however, since a substantial amount of money went missing a couple years back he's made a point of looking at some of the figures himself once in a while.

"Well that's good news, the happier the people are in Zvarinograd the more highly educated people we can attract to work in Iuthia. Ok, next. James stated. Fred looked down before continuing.

"Our records show that Wolfish has been importing alot of raw materials from Iuthia, mostly allows and minerals. However records also seem to suggest that they are late with their payment for the last shipment of Raw Materials..." Fred's glasses slipped down his nose for a second before he pushed them back up.

"I see, I take it we have sent them an invoice as well as reminders..." James didn't like late payments, but the nation had a good record for paying on time so he wasn't going to jump to conclusions.

"Of course sir, we have not had any replies as of late but it would seem that their nation is having economic trouble..."

"Give them some time, our own economy isn't directly tied to theirs, we will just have to let it go for the time being, though we will have to halt any further export until we can be paid..."

"Yes Sir..."

"And no interest, understand? I want them to know we are not unhappy, we'll just have to wait it out, maybe even help them."

"Of course Sir, would you like me to inform them of this action."

"That would be best, I would offer aid but we're currently in a state of war. Offer our condolances if you can."

"Yes Sir." the minister of trade left to fullfil his duties, to inform their contacts in Wolfish of this development...


Here's proof of Iuthia's trade links with Wolfish. Not to meantion a good thread... (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=120648&highlight=)

Offices of Commerce Minister Petunia Trunkh

The secretaries had gone home hours ago and the public who had business in the various departments had long since exited the Ministry building. One set of lights on an upper floor pierced the gathering darkness. “We took a hit, there’s no question”, Minister Trunkh stated slowly into the phone. “We had over a billion dollars in Wolfish grain futures. Wolfish is the greatest economic power in the region; what effects them effects us. No, I don’t know if they’ll try for another bond issue, if they do I recommend we buy as much as we can. Here’s the bottom line: We are totally tied to Wolfish, and we’re going to have to follow their lead. Yes, yes I’ll talk to the others, yes, I’ll do it tonight”. Minister Trunkh disconnected the line, then slowly pressed the red button at the bottom of the keypad. "Your Majesty?" she stated gently "It's Petunia, may I come by and speak with you?".....

The Orchestrator's Quarters
Kenoko,Shinoxia

Orchestrator-General Andrew Shackleton watched the seen in Wolfish unfold through a small television in his office.

The Orchestrator could barely contain his excitement.

He listened carefully as he heard the words economic collapse...thousands losing jobs...Wolfish come out of the speakers on the TV, music to his ears.

He allowed a smile to spread across his face, however his satisfaction war interrupted by a knock on his door.

Shackleton turned off the TV, and went to his door where he saw the tall and slim figure of his aide, Major James Garcia, the Major seemed happy as well...

"So,"General Shackleton paused and smiled again "I'm sure you already know of the situation in Wolfish right now?"

Major Garcia laughed and replied "We've been monitering the Wolfish situation ever since General Amundsen (God rest his soul!) gave the order during the Rebeland Conflict," Garcia exhaled and said "We've been expecting a small recession for some time now, however the magnitude of this has been a pleasant surprise."

Orchestrator Shackleton turned his TV back on, his eyes glued to the screen, and then the man laughed when he heard the reasons behind the collapse.

"Locusts?" Shackleton said in between laughter.

Major Garcia shook his head and confirmed "Locusts sir."

"And a flood?"

"Yes sir."

General Shackleton began to pace the floor, then he looked up at the Shinoxian flag, the proud enfield sat on the Shinoxian Crown, taller than ever, and the Orchestrator remembered his duties.

"How can we take advantage of this situation?" Shackleton quiestioned his aide.

Major Garcia smiled and replied "I had a feeling you would ask that question," he snapped open a briefcase filled with folders "so I wrote down a few options for you sir."

"Options?" Shackleton raised his eyebrow, a gesture he had picked up from one of his Generals.

"Yes sir, I know this is short notice, but I rallied 150 Partisans, and at your word can deploy to Wolfish and raise a little Hell among the populace."

"And how would you propose they would get in?" the Orchestrator had his doubts.

"With current economic situation, no one will pay attention to a few measely boats, there's a few nice rural areas they could deploy to."

"What would be the effect?"

"Sir, these Partisans, unlike their comrades, are trained not to fight but to encourage the population to consider a few new "changes." Garcia trailed off.

"What would be these "changes"?

Garica pulled out a bio, he opened it up to a page that showed a picture of a man, probably in his forties, then man looked both kind and sinister at the same time.

"Charles Greene," Garcia handed the bio to the General and pointed to the man in the picture, "a man with radical ideals that could shake the foundations of Wolfish if needed, he's been imprisoned by the Government in the infamous TAL-4 prison, along with a few other radicals."

"And how is this man...Charles Greene...important to us?" Shackleton asked with a serious tone.

"Ah... you see this man stirred up a little trouble in Wolfish, some large protests, that sort of thing, so the government had him and his followers "re-educated" in prison...that was three years ago."

Garcia continued.

"Mr. Greene has been identified as a possible communist, and with the current unemployment rates in Wolfish on the rise he could be a valuable asset."

Shackleton's eyes narrowed and a serious look spread across his middle-aged face.

"This could be seen as war, if we were caught, you know that right?"

Garcia nodded.

"Sir, it seems that war with Wolfish is impending, we may have no other choice, we can take action so if war does break out we have the advantage," Garcia took a sarcastic tone "or we could do nothing while the economic stability in Wolfish is restored, and lose our advantage."

Orchestrator Andrew Shackleton sighed.

"What exactly would these partisans do, you already said they aren't trained to fight?"

"We would have them deployed in rural areas, where most of the workers are being laid off, and show them examples of nations that are prospering under Communism, we would tell them that if Charles Greene was released, stability and peace would return", Garcia went on "we set up several different "sermons" and -bam- the populace goes to the gates of TAL-4 and demands the release of Charles Greene."

A silence between the two men went on for about 5 seconds before the Orchestrator gave the order.

"Very well, deploy the Partisans." Shackleton's mind went ablaze with the thoughts of what would happen if the Arctic Partisans were captured.

"You are wise, Orchestrator." Major James Garcia left with satisfaction, quitely shutting the door behind him.

The Orchestrator turned on his TV.

OOC: Sorry if I went too far with the Charles Greene guy, but I wanted to add a little twist. I deployed 150 Arctic Partisans which should arrive off the coast of your rural areas in a day, please note that while you can intercept them, it is unexpected.

*Cue theme music*

This is GEC Money Watch with your hosts Bill Mcualey, Ted Grovack and George Goldberg. Brought to you by:

Aventix Investments, “We make money multiply”.

*Theme music ends*

Bill Mcualey: Good morning and welcome to another edition of GEC Money Watch, I am joined today by our regular panel of Ted Grovack and George Goldberg. Say hello gentlemen.

George Goldberg: Good Day.

Ted Grovack: Morning Y’all.

BM: First things first, today the agricultural sector of Wolfish took a major hit as an environmental disaster wiped out their wheat stock, gentlemen what’s the big issue for Wolfish now.

GG: Well, most of their nations pension plan was invested in agricultural so expect a massive drop in the market that will affect an untold number of other sectors.

TG: That should be the least of their problems; Wolfish used a resource intensive means of feeding their population. Back in the south were I’m from, we cultivate multiple strains and consumable products to ensure that unexpected natural disasters do not affect the overall supply for domestic consumption and alcohol manufacturing.

BM: I’m glad that you mentioned our national industry Ted, a delegation from GEC Spirits Inc. was in the region looking for a new strain of Barley for product development. To help us understand what this unexpected turn of events means for GEC, we are being joined via satellite by the Executive Vice President of GEC Spirits Inc. Mr. Olliver Mannion. Thank you for joining us Mr. Mannion.

OM: It’s always a pleasure to come onto your show Bill. Too bad you haven’t gotten rid of those two market venture rascals yet. *laughs*

TG: *laughs* Damn good to see you too Olly.

GG: After that “Optical Illusion beer” fiasco, I’m surprised that you still have a job. *laughs*

BM: All right, settle down boys. Mr. Mannion, you might have heard us discussing this earlier in our show. It’s public knowledge that a group of representatives from your company is in the region looking for new strains of barley for R&D. Is this instability in Wolfish going to cut that trip short?

OM: We aren’t particularly worried; our team is not in Wolfish but in a nearby nation. We expect this problem to resolve itself shortly, its not like an agricultural issue could really blow-up. Wolfish has enough allies and state reserves to last through this economic “hiccup”.

BM: I hate to cut you off Oliver, but we have to go to a commercial break. When we return, we will be continuing our discussion with VP. Mannion and after that, we will look at what the new satellite system GEC has placed into orbit will mean for the telecommunications industry.

*Cue theme music*

President Skyler Green chuckled as he bit into his meatball sandwich, he couldn’t help it. The almighty Wolfish, the one who had bullied and pushed the Antarctic Nations could possibly be brought down by some loud bugs and a few days of rain. Green wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity. Green phoned the leader of the military with something already discussed.

“Deploy what you were told to, AND MAKE SURE THESE COMMANDERS KNOW NOT TO DRAW ATTENTION TO THEMSELVES. Also beginning mobilizing 5 divisions. And make sure all ships are ready for action. One again I’ll stress this: Keep this casual and should attention be drawn it’s a military exercise.”

Green hung up without a response, the cocky basterd.

Green had already given the order for a secret letter to be sent to Shinoxia, Dancing Moose, and Wazican. The letter said that all Antarctic forces should be traveling together should an event of action come against Wolfish. There was safety in numbers was the logic.

OOC: Note there are 8 subs

OOC: 8 subs have been deployed to international waters around Wolfish. Should anyone ask they are conducting military exercises in the event of nuclear war.

OOC: Firstly, I would prefer that you use this thread (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=126206) for OOC actions and instructions, you can RP actions in secret by simply stating before it "Secret RP" but please keep OOC off this thread because I'm going to have to argue some of those OOC points without cluttering this thread.

For now however, seeing as I am already writing in OOC when I shouldn't be I will state that it's usually a bad idea to claim you are training active military units outside someone elses waters when you've had a bad past with them and they are in crisis... this is when bad things happen and if they do I will (as a nation) support Wolfish for doing them.

So I would suggest you train elsewhere, away from his nation. Afterall, they are nuclear subs...

Osaira Cafe Outlet
Downtown Osaria, 9 AM

The Osaria Cafe ha already been a famous company, for its "reputation" of provide such nice locations for people to drink coffee and chat. There were no vacancy in these outlets. None. Moost of them are either dominated by a group of rich businessman, governmental personnels, or even military personnel, or the group of "new Omzians" -- Omzians in their twenties.

Goanard Hanue, a manager at the sales department of Kanze Agricultural Productions Limited, sat down to read the sales and purchase report again. Gazing on the miles of small texts, he smiled and concentrated. Being a businessman, the other's decrease is his celebration. Ruthless, it seems, but that is the fact. "It seems that the people from Wlfish are taking a major hit. Crops of corn are being flooded and contaminated by locust. We are taking...", his co-worker started the conversation before being interrputed by Hanue's fast reaction. "A damage, you mean?", Hanue snapped.

"Uh yes, I'm afraid. Recent shipments of soy and wheat that we are expecting from Wolfish are being delayed, and the money is still in their hands. We tried to talk to them, but they just say about the environmental disaster down there. It's not going to hurt us bad, but definately hurt us.", the co-worker replied, with a reporting style.

"Does the government know about this?", Hanue asked, still looking on the report through his glasses, never bothering to look at the co-worker.

"Of course, what do you expect? No measures have been taking down now. Other businesses and competitors are being hurt more, suprisingly. Wolfish has emerged as an important exporter and importer of agricultural products, you know. We take soy and wheat from them, and we give...", he said before he was cut off -- again.

"Yeah, yeah...", Hanue replied impatiently. "But if other are being hurt even more, that's good news you know."

Ceres Agricombine was fast on the ball. Not only were they in dealing with Wolfish, to try and sell to farmers and make aide, but also to Wolfish's former importers. Every now desolate market was struck with glowing business proposals and nearly irresistable offers of healthy, fresh crops of all varieties.

OOC: Omz222m that's you!

Jamie Fallow was a good enough kid. As a college student studying at Western Wolfish University – he found that he needed lots of money to keep him and his girlfriend in a steady supply of beer.

And that’s how he came to his current job – copying snippets of news for the politicians and public servants that ran the government.

He probably couldn’t have picked half of them out of a line up – but they depended on him. Every morning at 4 a.m, he’d arrive at work to beginning reading the news – when he found a story that would interest the government – he’d clip it and then – once completed – he would photocopy a book size package a couple hundred times, load up his cart and do his rounds though the building – a package here – a package there…usually there’d be no one in early enough to receive it in person – but today – today was different.

Jamie did his rounds – a thick package today – and virtually every office he went to was open – lights on – and bustling.

The doors to the elevator opened and Jamie pushed his cart into the concrete hallway – more of a tunnel really – this was B-10 – basement level, 10 floors down. It was mostly military types this far below ground – and they were just as busy as the politicians 80 floors up.

“I’ll take that kid,” said a young man in a dress uniform. “It is the Major’s copy right?”

“Ummm. Yeah – here.” He said as he turned to head back into the daylight.

“Hey kid.?”

“Yeah?”

“Its going to be busy for the next little while. Ask your boss to get you an assistant.”

“Sure.” Jamie said – wondering if the young soldier was kidding him or not.

Corporal Mallory walked the newspapers into “The Bunker” – the staff name for the Wolfish Defense Command Office in the Capital building. With a staff of 28, commanded by Major Wilks – the WDC Liaison Office was responsible for being a bridge between the politicians, and the military.

“Major – your clips.”

“Thanks Mal.”

Major Wilks opened the package – story 1 through 5 from the various newspapers were of the rampage in the brokerage house – whole bunch of people shot up with a shotgun – too damned messy thought the Major. Use a friggin’ Carbine – much cleaner.

The next section of the package was on the plight of pensioners as broker after broker went belly’s up – and finally the farmers – they’re broke – no money to plant – and the banks are foreclosing on them as fast as they can.

The last story on the farmers caught the Major’s eye – a protest – Farmers for Fairness – going to march to Wolfish to protest the lack of government action. Good luck.

“Sir – FLASH traffic - FleetIntel report coming in. Level 4.”

“Very good”, said the Major as he tossed the clips into the recycle bin. “Whatta we got?”

“Sir – FleetIntel reports foreign naval operations off our southern shore – nation unknown at this time. Report says they are well off shore….they’re assigning a couple subs to keep an eye on them.”

“Well – that’s not very exciting. I’ll be in the latrine.” He grabbed the previously discarded clips and walked down the hall.

Across Capital Lake (in the centre of Wolfish) General Blackstone had just read the same report in his office at Wolfish Defense Command.

“Have the subs track all movements….and try to ferret out who those subs belong to. Not many nation brave enough to approach Wolfish without notifying us. We may be able to use this….”

“Sir – Yes Sir. I’ll notify Admiral Hallsey at once. Anything else Sir?”

Blackstone looked up… “Yes – have my senior staff meet me here tonight – for dinner – around 8. Make sure there is wine.”

“Yes Sir. Steak Sir?”

“Yes. Steak. Rare.”

“Yes General.”

Roberticus IV looked worried in this bleak situation. Looking over the foundation of his new resort house with General Fabio and his Secretary of Defense Dave Robinson, he spoke of the grave news he had just heard.

"Guys, we have a real problem here. The report came and our ally, the nation of Wolfish, has had the worst locust plague they have seen in years and to top it off there has been a flood. There might be a huge economic collapse, maybe even a depression."

Dave looked around uneasily in a nervous manner and said, "This could lead to conflict, this could make the once powerful and charismatic Todler seem weak to his people. This could lead to a rebel insurection (spelling?). Do you think he might need aid to get him through these tough times? We sure don't want some crazy lunatic trying to overrun him."

Fabio stood up and abruptly said, "Speaking of lunatics...err I mean, it seems as if Shinoxia is looking for a reason to attack Wolfish."

Roberticus glared around and spoke, "He may have his own reasons, but I will not allow any military action unless Todler is gone from his presidency. Let's keep a close eye on Wolfish, maybe send some economic aid to them."

Robinson said, "It sounds good your highness, but I also suggest you keep an eye on the Antarctic nations."

Roberticus, "Let's wait till the conflict gets bigger, also, contact Todler, and see if he needs anything."

~hours later~

Telegram to Todler:

Todler: This is Roberticus IV, emperor of Roberticus, and we have heard of your recent plight. Is there anyway we can help you? We can provide economic aid or peacekeeping forces... anything to help and allied nation. Please consider replying, I would like to speak with you.

--Emperor Roberticus IV

Lt. Admiral Robert Henson had just been informed that Wolfish was mirroring there actions.

“Sir, our best guess is about 5-10 subs.” Squeaked out an ensign deathly afraid of disturbing Henson during his lunch.

“That’s fine, that’s fine.” Henson said more to himself than the ensign. “It’s only to be expected.”

“Ensign, inform the ships that we are from the Republic of Wert3813. Tell them we are perform military exercises, and that we mean no harm. Tell them that this information should’ve been given to them but if it wasn’t my apologies.”

“Yes sir.” Said the ensign as he and his shaking knees left.

OIS Command
Valhalla Command Center
Officer of General Davis

The same Lieutenant once again entered Davis’ office

“Im getting the feeling you like coming here, Lieutenant” said Davis. He always tried to be light hearted, he knew it was difficult to enter a superior’s office, hard to address, even worse when you have potential bad news.

She laughed lightly “Sir, SatRec reports possible naval activity off Wolfish shores, unconfirmed, but probable, and what looks like possible troop activation and co-ordination in good ole warmongering Antarctica, given their checked history with Wolfish, one could surmise something is up.

Davis considered, if trouble was brewing again, it seemed stupid for anyone to strike at the Heart of the Wolfish Empire…. but then again….it WAS Antarctica we were talking about, good men, but brave to the point of foolhardy sometimes.

“Meh, keep an eye on it….a closer eye on it” said Davis after considering

“Yessir!” she said, and departed

((Tag))

THIS POST HAS BEEN EDITTED OUT.

Morgan Geri, Captain of the freighter Venture, took a drag on his cigarrette as he watched the ocean starlight. He sighed a little as the salty air stung his eyes. That is Polaris, the North Star, my guide and companion. He watched the waters, dark and shimmering, and he felt the gentle rocking of the boat. Millions of credits in grains and seeds, all beneath his feet. He glanced to the horizon, where more boats like this might move. But the distances were vast, and the ships small compared to the ocean.

He closed his eyes now, to enjoy the feeling of the ocean. In this calm though, he still felt the pressure. These waters are not safe. There are hunters here. He looked into the blackness. The reports from the Navy had been quite concise. Submarines are here. We are a civilian vessel, carrying food, and with all clearances in order. We are safe.

But, as the shores of Wolfish began to come into view, Geri watched the depths. How long until they hunt. He took another drag, and threw the cigarrette into the waters. It's red embers scattered on the hull, then died on the waters. The vessel continued, bearing it's precious cargo.

"Sir, One frigrate ship is entering Wolfish Waters, It can be assumed that this ship is carring grain to Wolfish"

"Very good info thanks. Stay out of their way should they discover us give them the same speech we gave Wolfish."

The Lt. Admiral sighed; politics is so annoying he thought as he cursed out loud. He had just been told to exist his current position and to get two weeks away from Wolfish. He cursed one more time.

Roberticus IV sits in his throne with one meek servant beside him, and he says outloud, "This is it, I can't help to see an ally in such pain, send Mistress Diana Gorak on a frigate filled with grain. He needs this for his country and people. Please send word to Todler weakling."

~ship should arrive in about 2 RL hours because of close proximity~

OOC: I sent an important person to help Wolfish... use it..

-------Signal received-------

GEC Transoceanic Shipping Bulletin

Issued: February 26, 2004.

To all vessels registered under GEC flags, you are hereby notified that under-water seismological sensors have picked up increased non-native signals emanating from international waters off the coast of Wolfish. Please be advised that GEC Transoceanic Shipping is asking all ships to avoid passing near the following co-ordinates:

34 40 43 N 72 38 12 W
25 53 30 N 93 34 3 W
41 17 59 N 69 12 1 W
38 27 23 N 70 41 23 W
42 21 14 N 70 41 29 W

Thank you for your cooperation.

-------Signal ended----------





-------Signal received-------

إلى كلّ سيجينت و سفن إلينت, من فضلك انتقل إلى الإحداثيّات المقالة و ابدأ ملاحظة النّشاط الفوريّة . كلّ القوانين و إرسالات ستُرْسَل للأمر مركزيّ للمعالجة .

------Signal ended---------

Office of Foreign Relations

Alfatain sat quietly on his chair, his feet resting on his cluttered desk. The Foreign Relations Minister skipread his paper. Reading the news wasnt something he was keen on, but it was partly his job. He was about to skip to the sports page, when something caught his eye:

Wolfish Economy Plummets! Thousands jobless!

He cocked his eye, and looked down to read more.

It has been noted that several days ago, The Enlightened Empire of Wolfish's economy has plummeted, leaving several thousand with no job. Mass suicides and murders have happened all over the country. More news on page seven

Alfatain ignored it, probably some small country having economic problems. Oh how he was wrong.
Alfatain swore. The Muscovia Reds had lost the cup final match.

Habbak looked out of the castle window, he was on the third floor in his office...
drip drip drip

the rain pattered the window, he looked out onto the city shrowded in clouds... hidden below...

It was going to be a quiet day for the Midlonian Premier, a couple of meetings, lunch with the emperor, and a bit of paperwork.

He sat at the old oak desk, and decided he would do as much paperwork as possible before he saw the minister of defence and the minister of transport at 10.00am the clock, made of solid marble and polished thouroghly click and clanked away the minutes.... it was 8.00am

he lifted the pen and began scratching away, most of the recent activity had died down within the GEM, everything seemed stable and calm....
Or so he thought, the newspaper was brought in by one of the servants...on the front page was..

Wolfish economy collapses

"Damn"
but he shrugged and went back to scrathcing away with the pen....

To: Wolfish Raw Materials Buyers
From: Central Command, Iuthia Prima, Iuthia
Subject: Reminder of Due Payment
Message:

Sorry to remind you again, but we are becoming concerned that we may have to stop shipments of our Mineral and Alloys to your company if you cannot pay for the last shipment, we understand your nation is in economic termoil which is why we are willing to wait, however we will have to halt any further trade until we are sure that it would be profitable.

Due to the ongoing war with the nation of Cronium we are unable to spare these resources, otherwise we may have continued without payment for some time... however wars are exspensive and our hands are tied economically.

We will simply note your trade as "on hold" for the time being and up our trade with others within our region for this period of time, we can only wish your nation the best in it's speedy recovery from this economic slump...

Sorry again,

http://www.nationstates.net/images/flags/uploads/iuthia.jpg

Fred Galwitz - Trade Minister
Urbanites (http://www.nationstates.net/cgi-bin/index.cgi/page=display_region/region=Urbanites)

Recent News in Iuthia (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=83886&highlight=)
OOC Information on Iuthia (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=109898&highlight=)


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

[code:1:9a094e16ad]>>Placing "Wolfish" on hold list......

>>Data Transfer complete.

>>Ceasing all trade with "Wolfish".......

>>Estimated losses in Iuthian revenue: $ 23'640.63 (USD)

>>Mailmerge sent to Iuthian business owners...[/code:1:9a094e16ad]

"So is everything set?" The party leader asked
"Yessir, we will begin dumping wheat on the Wolfish markets tomorrow." A man in a plain business suit answered coming to military posture when attention was directed his way.
“Excellent, and what measures are we taking so that the local market can’t recover from this incursion?”
“Well with Wolfish being a free market we will buyout any small farmers who try to restructure and then lay them off.”
“Excellent, what is the estimated cost to us, since this wheat isn’t at profit?” The party leader motioned to the scotch as he poured himself a glass.
“No thank you sir, we will incur a cost of 400 billion USD.”
“Acceptable, and is our media playing this off as foreign aid?”
“Yessir we are releasing it as such and offering subsidies to companies who are portraying this in a favorable light.”
“Good, now are we sure that absolutely no one will out bid us on the wheat?”
“Not as long as we’re taking a loss on it, but sir may I take this time to remind you that this is considered unfair trade practices.”
“I understand and if it gets out what we are doing I understand it won’t look favorable but when Wolfish recovers we can slowly raise the price of wheat and we will be the sole provider of wheat, it’ll be fine, and at most we’ll get a slap on the wrist from the internationale community.” The Party leader tilted his glass to the plain clothes man.
“Cheers,”

Wolfish Defense Command
0800 hrs
Private Dining Room


The bottle of 18-year-old MacAllan single malt stood tall in the centre of the polished walnut table. Surrounding it were crisp white napkins, place carefully on even whiter plates.

The Senior War Staff were arriving in ones and twos – summoned from their various offices around the city – and from various military bases

Twenty in all were present – Generals Veritos and Wiseman from the Army – along with their general staff, General Harry Patterson from the Wolfish Marine Corps, and his counterpart Tyson Greenbeck from the Praetorian Guard – always looking sinister with his one eye crosshatched with a jagged scar that never seemed to totally heal.

The Air Force had sent five of the nine Air Combat Command Generals….

The Navy sent Vice Admirals Zack Westley and Vice Admiral Edo Yakamura representing the First and Second Wolfish navies respectively– sitting on either side of the ancient – yet still intimidating Admiral James Hallsey.

The only guest not an Admiral or General was Colonel Thom Christianson, of the Presidential Security Detail.

The room was full, but not crowded by the time General Daniel Blackstone arrived.

The table rose and snapped to attention when he entered – but he seemed indifferent to the respect… “As you were.”

“Thank you all for coming,” he said distantly as he took his chair, “I felt it was important that we have an informal meeting – time for a bit of levity to steel ourselves against the darkness that seems to be encompassing our nation these days.”

The General poured himself a tall glass of the scotch – freeing the others to do the same – except for Col. Christianson who never drank.

“Admiral Hallsey – thank you for coming all the way from Wolfhair…Its nice to see you again.”

“Thank you General. Its nice of you to invite me.”

The General and Admiral starred at each other across the table – the two most senior officers in the Wolfish military – and two of the greatest minds ever to serve their country…and yet they were not friends – for years they had bumped and jostled each other to get where they were today.

“Tell me Admiral,” said the General with a smirk. “Tell me what you think of the troubles facing Wolfish.”

The Admiral took a sip of the nectar before replying. “Well Sir. Wolfish has had trouble in the past – and I expect we’ll have trouble in the future. This is no different. Hell. We’ve faced worse than this. Civil war – outright war – fights with the UN. Nope. This isn’t any different than a thousand other challenges we’ve beat.”

“Really,” retorted the General in a deadpan voice. “Is that what you think? Admiral – I think you’ve spent too much time on that island of yours – playing with boats in your bathtub.”

Others around the table laughed nervously at the last comment – though as much to break the building tension in the room as anything.

Hallsey looked uncomfortable with the sudden turn as well.

“General?”

“James – you’ve been around this game long enough to know better – you’ve seen the same signs I have.”

The General got to his feet.

“Gentlemen – we are facing a challenge today greater than any challenge Wolfish has faced before.

Children born today will grow – hopefully grow – to see a very different nation than that which we see today.

Wolfish faces two dangers – the first is a result of our own laziness – the second is a result of our own complacency.”

The military staff looked at each other with puzzled expressions.

“None of you see it?” the General asked, watching the faces of his underlings. “None of you see what the traitor Todler has done?”

Two people at the table bristled as the words “traitorTodler” hung in the air.

“Gentlemen….President Todler has brought our nation to its knees. His lack of leadership has first allowed this to happen, and second brought it to the world stage.

Even now our enemies gather – circling around like vultures.” He threw his glass against the wall – sending shards of fine crystal showering down onto the floor.

“James….Old friend….how many subs are off our coast? How many troop movements have our satellites captured on film? How many nations have been waiting years to threaten us?

Hell – Rotovia – we sunk some dozen of her ships without so much as a scratch to the paint on the bow of a ship.

Do you think they may want to take advantage of this….this…sit-u-a-tion that Todler allowed?

We are facing death. Simple as that. We are facing the death of our economy – and once it has failed – our enemies will line up to pick our bones clean.”

As if on cue, General Greenback asked in his typically strong voice.

“Clearly you’ve thought this through, General. So what is the plan? How do we save Wolfish from those who’d oppose us?”

Blackstone smiled, and retrieved another glass from the serving cart against the wall – filling it with scotch – he answered….“General – we do what Wolves always do when they’re cornered. We bite.”

Hallsey couldn’t keep quiet after that comment. With his weathered face visibly reddening he shot back, “And just who do we bite Daniel?”

“Does it really matter?” he answered calmly. “What matters is that Wolfish demonstrates that in spite of the current fiscal situation – we have teeth – and we are able to use them when necessary.”

“So we just – what – pick some nation and invade?” asked a sarcastic Hallsey.

“It might just be that simple Admiral. Thank you for understanding.”

Hallsey leapt to his feet. “THIS IS MADDNESS. Daniel – you can’t be serious. We’re not talking about maintaining stability in a region – or helping some small nation defend itself – we are talking about a war of aggression.”

“Stop being so dramatic old man. All war is a war of aggression – we’ve just always displayed our conflicts a certain way….”

“Todler will have your head….”

“No James. No he won’t. Todler is not only going to approve my little plan – he’s going to be the one to tell the world.”

“He’ll never do it Daniel – I’ll make sure of that.” The Admiral was fairly frothing at the mouth now – his eyes ablaze like there were when he dropped a thousand Tuttsvillian fighters from the sky – “You’ll be arrested and this whole saga will end – your blood lust ends here GENERAL.”

“I think not my good Admiral.”

With a nod of his head, the General’s escort entered from the hallway – sidearms drawn.

“Admiral James Hallsey. You are under arrest on the charge of sedition. You are to accompany us to TAL-4 prison where you will await trial by military tribunal. Do you understand Sir?”

Hallsey looked around the room in shock – disbelief clearly evident on his leathered faced.

“I – I – don’t”

“Oh do stop mumbling James – you’re going to prison – you have betrayed your nation – your name and office are dishonoured….Take him away.”

The guard and the Admiral left the room – the assembled staff sat quietly – hardly daring to even think.

Vice-Admiral Wellsey was the first to break the silence – quickly figuring how – in good Wolfish style – to take advantage of the arrest of his boss.

“General. What are our next steps?”

Blackstone turned to look at Wellsey. “I’d say the first step is to promote you to Admiral. Then – then we can talk about our invasion.”

“Who will we invade?” asked one of the others.

“I’m not sure yet. We’ll meet back here at 0900 tomorrow morning. I have a meeting with Todler before that – I want options for…lets call it Operation Runaway Mutt.”

“Yes General.”

With that the wait staff began serving the steak – though one place sat empty.

Excellent :D

You write good Wolfish :wink:

clack clack clack clack, thump thump thump thump, clack clack clack clack CRUMPH! clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack..... CRUMPH CREEEEEEEEEK

a ruddy faced, tall thin young man carrying a couple of photos...and had a rather large marks on his arm and face, burst into the PM's office.

"yes daniel?" Habbak barely bothered to look up, but the clock kept clicking and clanking away, as it had done for over a hundred years, it was 9.40a.m....
"we found out something about Empassioned peoples plans on the wolfish economy sir"

"this concerns us how?"

"well it could affect the grain supplies that we do occasionally get from the EP, it appears to not be coming in sir"

"so...?"

"well, it seems they could flood Wolfish's fragile economy with the grain that was supposed to come to us..."

"well.... we could just get some rice off of No-Dachi Yo instead, we have had that traders oath standing for years"

"yes Mr Prime Minister"

Habbak looked back down at the paperwork, it just happened to be the order form of the grain SCRATCH, rustle, thunk! the peice of paper was in the bin...
clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack clack
click clock click clock click clock click clock click clock click clock click clock
scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch

these were the only sounds that disturbed Habbak for another hour.....

The train sped through the darkened tunnels – slowing only for the occasional gentle curve in the track.

The line was built following the Wolfish civil war – though it had only been used a few times, Blackstone had seen its potential for not only secure, rapid transit out of the city – but also for totally secret movements to and from the capital.

Moving in excess of 120 kmph on the straightaways, the train could travel from the centre of Wolfish – Wolfish Defense Command to be exact – to the massive underground bunker, not far from TAL-4 within 45 minutes.

By car it would take at least three hours – even by helicopter it would take as long as the train – without the security or secrecy.

Hallsey sat quietly on the seat, his hand and angles bound with zip-strips – eight Special Op Marines were in the train with him, their eyes alert, hands gripping their MP5s lightly.

With s screech of steel-on-steel, the train came to rest at the secure platform for COMDEV 1 – or Command Deviation 1 – the primary site for the evacuation of the government and military in time of war. Build to withstand a nuclear strike, the site was built deep under a small mountain – totally isolated, and independent of the outside world.

Convenient for General Blackstone – it was also relatively close to the TAL-4 prison, so getting the popular and powerful Hallsey out of Wolfish was relatively easy.

“Admiral – if you’ll come with me.” The young soldier stared at the old man – not sign of any emotion…

“Of course. You do realise though that what you are doing is illegal.” He waited for a response from the soldier closest to him, but not a word was spoken from the young professionals.

“General Blackstone has arrested me without legitimate charge – and without the proper authority. There will be an investigation – I want you all to remember that – there will be an investigation – and each of your roles and conducts will be examined – and please keep in mind that the response, “I was just following orders,” has been tried and found wanting.”

The soldiers gave no sign that they had actually heard the Admiral’s words as they led him through the labyrinth of tunnels and chambers making up the COMDEV 1. Eventually, they made their way to a chamber filled with battery operated golf carts – they got on these, and headed though a tunnel Hallsey didn’t recognize.

“This is new – I haven’t seen this before.”

“The General had it constructed a few years ago. To provide secure transport to TAL-4.”

For a first acknowledgement from his guards – this proved most helpful in occupying the Admiral’s thoughts.

[I]So Blackstone needs a quick and quiet way to get to TAL-4 does he – I wonder who else he’s got holed up here….nice little place for some house cleaning…[I]

The ride was too short for Hallsey – particularly since he knew what was at the end. He had had the misfortune of touring TAL-4 shortly after it was completed – dreadful place. Little light – less human contact either between guards and prisoners or even prisoners and prisoners. The place was so automated, that a prisoner might not leave his cell for years – literally.

The door ahead looked ominous – Hallsey knew on sight that is was where the prison began – and that it would be the first among many doors he’d pass though tonight – he could only hope he’d get a chance to pass back through at some point.

http://www.nsdsecurity.com/images/vault-homepage-2.jpg

Private Quarters of Queen Celeste, The Royal Palavian Palace in Cornelius

Queen Celeste sat hunched at a small Victorian writing desk, her chubby arms threatening to topple the delicate antique as she wrote furiously:

“James:

Dreadful reports are coming out of Wolfish, are they true? Petunia Trunkh from the Commerce Ministry was here last night and she told me you’re facing a serious grain shortfall and your Ag futures are going to take a beating. You know how much my father, God rest his soul, admired you and how beloved Wolfish is here in Hatchibombitar. James, if there’s anything we can do, anything at all, you just ask. I’ve directed Petunia to buy up every bond you issue, and she’s a good egg, so she’ll do it.

All my best,
Celeste “

The Queen sat back and sighed heavily. “Alison” she called, “Get this out to President Todler, right away; and, Alison, let’s think about planning a vacation, shall we? I’d like to plan a distillery tour if we can arrange it. What about that place that sent us all that fine Scotch? What was the name, Guinness something? See if they’ve got any promotional material available.”


Ankhus City: Private residence of General Salvatore “Sally” Clayton

General Clayton refused to walk on his treadmill. Furthermore, he refused to jog on it and he refused to avail himself of the handrails. Instead, he ran at a fast lope while the motor whined to keep up. In one hand he held a towel with which he mopped his scarlet face, in the other he clutched a cell phone through which he could bark orders at astonished aides. The call that morning from Queen Celeste was no surprise, she had come to rely on him as a de facto Prime minister and often called in the morning. When she got to the part about the wolfish Agricultural Futures, “Sally” Clayton let out a roar of pain, and flung his arms out in anger. He promptly fell on his face and received a most unmilitary road rash from the spinning belt of the machine.

Struggling to his feet, Clayton panted hoarsely before returning the phone to his ear. “Ma’am, we cannot sit by while Wolfish is in trouble. We’re invested in their markets; they’re invested in ours. They have have the 9th Air Combat Command stationed in Hatchibombitar. That's 5 wings with 40,000+ support personnel including fighter, strategic bombing, tactical bombing, support and surveillance wings. Furthermore, our officers were all trained in Wolfish. Hell, Ma’am, every one of us are Barrier Island Military Academy graduates!” He paused, and as he listened a look of annoyance crossed his now bloody face. “Vacation? Who’s going to deal with this if you’re on vacation? Aw, no, no, no, whaddaya mean, me?

12.40 a.m...
clack click clack click clack click clack click
Habbak was still scratching away furiously, he had 20 minutes until his meal with the Emperor, Habbak smiled, he used to call "The Emperor" "Squirt" Which in Habbak's eyes he still was, he couldn't believe it, a boy running an empire, but within his short time he had become a true Emperor, but he also enjoyed relaxing, his dinner would not be formal, but an old chat between freinds/uncle & nephew...

BONG... the sound cut through the silence like a razor sharp knife..
Habbak looked up.... it was 1.00pm he sighed, and surrenderd his pen to it's holder, he put his fingers through his hair and began to walk down the 2 flights of steps to the dining room....

Internal monologue of an agent in The CEP.

The contracts were all pushed through now and the first shipments were being unloaded in Wolfish. Wheat, in some areas of Wolfish, selling at less than 1/8th internationally recognized prices. Good quality wheat was being off loaded by the million bushel and while the long shore men loved the extra work, heck and average of 3 new jobs per dock were created to handle the extra volumes, they didn’t quite realize what this meant for the Wolfish economy, now money that should’ve been reinvested in the agricultural sector to precipitate growth and recovery was hemorrhaging out into the international markets. With Wolfish production costs so high no one was willing to pay 32X the amount CEP was unloading simply to help out the local economy. (Assuming wolfish wheat prices quadrupled).

CEPNN broadcast:
A perky looking blonde woman who looks like she may have had a nose job or 5 wearing a pink blazer begins to speak from behind a large wooden desk.
“Today the first shipment of reduced cost grain arrived in The Enlightened Free Empire of Wolfish to reduce the effects of a would be famine. The Party Leader in an effort to keep the cost of wheat down in that country has begun siphoning funds out of the large surplus in the treasury to assist the proletariat abroad, isn’t that right Kent?”

“That’s right Susan, in a statement from the capital building the Party Leader announced his actions.” The man the camera had paned to begins a shuffle of papers and starts to read the quote

“The apathetic policies of an uncaring government have lead the working poor and lower class of another ‘great nation’ under the oppression that is poverty. Now without the ability to sustain themselves in this market they are beginning to go hungry and to that end I am putting a low cost wheat in that country to feed the working man.

Wow Susan, the Proletariat sure is lucky to have a man like that looking out for them. In other news, are you a Bigatopian who is tired of having their child riding the bus to school for 2 hours? Monya Jackson is and tonight we will…”

*click* The television turned off.

The Internal monologue continues;

Ugh, I can’t believe that I helped write that. Well it’s better than what we had to do on govNEWS. We are constitutionally bound to report all policies and international actions on that network, well we did, after an intentionally boring 3 hour presentation on how the CEP electoral system worked. Ugh, I hope their ratings recover. I need a drink, where’s the scotch.

Hello and thank you for calling Guinness Extra Cold Tourism Information Line, my name is Shandra and how can I help you today?
-
Yes…
-
Really?!?
-
Please hold for the electronic verbal verification system to complete its scan.

System Running…System Running…

Location: Hatchibombitar/Cornelius/Royal Palavian Palace

Verbal recognition confirmed as ************************

Status: Platinum Member
-
My apologies for the wait, our security procedures have been upgraded due to recent international incidents of concern. As a Platinum level Member, your trip to Guinness Extra Cold will include nothing but the finest luxuries and most spectacular residences.
-
Of course, we can provide residency for staff and attendants.
-
Modern communication equipment with satellite uplink? We can provide the most advanced and discreet methods to stay in contact with your home country.
-
Yes.
-
Yes.
-
Of Course.
-
Please hold while I transfer you to the Head manager of the GEC Diamond Tower Hotel and thank you for using Guinness Extra Cold Tourism Line, a subdivision of GEC Spirits Inc., and have a pleasant day, Goodbye.
-
-* signal scramble. Code 1wrnw520jtmwlt*********** inputted *
-
Please connect me with Acquisitions immediately.
-
-
Sir, she is coming and she is bringing the elephants…

General Blackstone stood at the window – starring at the city as the sun rose over a troubled empire.

And it was his – his to rule – his to save…or at least it would be once Todler showed up.

With that final thought, the door to the office opened and the President walked in.

“Sorry to keep you waiting Daniel. Have a seat.”

“Thank you Mr. President.”

The two men took seats on the couch facing each other with the silver coffee service between them.

“Daniel – I’m sure you know as well as I do how grave this situation is. The papers today are full of bad news…Three more trading houses are insolvent – and there’s a chance that one of the big banks is going to go bust.

Nations are lining up either to offer us aid, or to dump their product – illegally I might add – on our economy.

Just today, the Nation of Empassioned Peoples unloaded four shipments of grain – they’re feeding our cattle and robbing our economy at the same time.”

General Blackstone shifted on the soft couch. “And what, exactly, Mr. President, are we doing about it?”

Todler looked blankly at the General – it wasn’t the type of question he was used to from an underling.

“Umm. Well, first we’ll notify the nation of our displeasure, then we’ll file a report with the World Trade Commission…if that doesn’t have an impact….”

“With respect Mr. President – I don’t think our economy can withstand all your action,” retorted the General, with sarcasm dripping from every word.

“General – I believe you need to remember your place – the situation is….”

“Mr. President,” interrupting once again, “With respect – this is my place. My place, to remind you, is to serve the state – as is yours.”

The General reached into his pocket and pulled out a small device, which looked to be a pager – he pushed one of the buttons on it, and sat back in his seat, continuing.

“Too often Mr. President – the path of leadership is unclear – but that is no excuse for inaction.”

The sounds of a disruption grew in the outer chamber. Todler stood to check on the disturbance.

“Mr. President – I must insist that you remain seated.”

Todler looked quickly at the General, then began moving towards the door…

In the outer office, the scene was growing calm. With the push of the button, the General’s guard, supplemented with 20 Wolfish Marines, quietly and quickly took control of the building.

Few shots were fired, but those that were flew from the silenced MP-5s into the chests and heads of the President’s Protection Service.

Across the nation, office doors were broken down, and Agents of the government, and staff loyal to Todler were arrested – largely without bloodshed or fuss.

“General – Explain yourself,” said a visibly shaken President.

“Well Sir. The good news is that you are still the President. Of course I have seized all power. You Sir will represent those powers to the world and to the nation.”

“You – you can’t…”

“I have Mr. President. I have.”

With that the General walked to the ornamental office door and opened it. Two Marines in battle dress uniforms snapped to attention. The opposing wall was being washed to remove a large blood stain.

“And questions Mr. President?”

“My staff…”

“Your staff will be held here, as will you. You will run the business of the government under the supervision of my staff.” The General looked at his watch, “We’ll have to finish our discussion later. I have another meeting.”

The General turned and walked out – soldier on either side as he passed out of sight.

The new leader of Wolfish got on the elevator and descended some 80 floors to one of the subbasements – where the labyrinth of tunnels linked the complex of government buildings in the capital.

When he arrived in the newly christened “War Room” at Wolfish Defense Command, Blackstone was ready for is schedule of meetings to be cut short in favour of some time on a firing range with a Carbine shoved against his shoulder.

“No such luck,” he thought to himself as he took his seat at looked at his general staff.

“Gentlemen – our target is Empassioned Peoples. This nation has committed an act of war against Wolfish by conspiring and acting with intent to destroy our economy. Questions?”

The room was silent.

“Now if my geography isn’t totally faulty – EP is in the proximity of our holding of Niue. Options?”

“Sir – we have had scheduled with our ally Hatchibombitar war games in that region – we could bump up the schedule without too much notice, and have,” (checks with aid) “Something in the neighbourhood of an entire Air Combat Command, 3 Carrier Battlegroups, and…A brigades of Marines… Give or take, Sir.”

“Okay – get it set up. I’m guessing Hatch won’t have a problem helping out – their bitch of a Queen was writing to Todler – someone should’ve told her he’s gay. Either way – they’ll bend over backwards to help us – it only helps them in the long run.”

Morgan Geri stepped onto the deck, walking up behind Roberts. "What's the issue, John?"

The Cargo Chief turned, scratching his flannel shirt with his left hand. "Christ, Morgan. The longshoremen haven't been paid in a week. I don't know if we can make them unload-"

Geri grimaced. "I'll take care of it." He turned, headed towards a knot of longshoremen, who were struggling with bags of the supplies. "Who's in charge here?"

A large man turned to him. "I'm dockmaster. What's your business?"

"I'm captain of this ship."

"Yeah. Well, who are you trading with?" The big man shuffled a bit. "Because they owe me labor."

Geri shook his head, "I'm supposed to be dealing with the Port Authority, but they don't seem to be around. Tell you what. I'll give you a ten percent cut of profit if you unload this grain."

The large man nodded. "Deal." his great features softened slightly. "And thanks."

Geri shrugged. "No problem, I make a living, too." He glanced around. "Who's incharge here, anyway?"

"Bayview Docks Management, but I ain't seen them in days."

"Fu<king lovely." Geri muttered. "You know any buyers?"

"Militia's been buying up a lot of supplies lately, trying to keep everyone in business."

"Where can I find them?" The captain marked down the information. I had better sell this grain. Just give me a buyer.

The Party Leader walked swiftly down the hall with three aides trailing as close behind as they could laden with many a folder and graph. Nervously they shuffled through shipping reports and the brown folders with the word “CLASSIFIED” printed in large red letters across them. Speaking into his cell phone the Party Leader in his plain suit never lost a stride.

“No, that’s right you heard me, every surface vessel. Not enough eh? Then your authorized to start contracting foreign vessels, aim for independently owned ships, I’d hate to have to deal with the kind of red tape we have on our economy. Sorry I got someone on the other line your time is up.” Hanging up he tossed the cell phone over his should and the aides scrambled to catch it. His hand slid slickly into his vest and hauled out a small black vibrating rectangle and tapped a pass code into the keypad after he’d revealed it by opening it at the fold. Holding it against his ear he began to speak, “Arseneault here go…………….. are you shitting me? I don’t care if Todler is going to take it to the WTC do you not know how these things work? *guttural sigh* We play a stall tactic and call every expert witness you can to testify if it goes to world court, we drag the trial out as long as possible, then when we lose we wait until one week before the deadline we were given to fix the problem and we appeal. ……. Yea that’s right as long as there is an active appeal we don’t have to change our policies. Smart boy. Nah I’ve already ordered our entire merchant marine core to do that as well as foreigners. ……. Right bye.”

Alright, the Party Leader thought to himself, looks like we are covered the grain shipments are coming into Wolfish even more now. And local prices of all wheat substitutes have gone down while wheat has gone up allowing us to dump the domestic market as well. Soon the GenCrop will be mature and we’ll dump those as well. This is amazing by the end of the decade we’ll be a powerhouse inside the Wolfish economy and maybe a few more years after that we can start to influence the government from within. Of course this would have to be done by a Wolfish company, hmmm.

“Terry,” one of the aides perked like a called dog, “I need research of Wolfish companies, I need one with a good history, no blemishes on the brand name, but it suffering badly because of this economic crisis. Something that we can buy out and slowly mold.

*RRRRrRRRRrrrrRRRRRrrrrRRR* a third cell phone began to vibrate “Never a dull moment eh boys?”

Dawn, off the southern coast of Hatchibombitar, on a course for Niue

The battle group had drawn up into formation during the late night hours, and now as dawn broke it was a formidable sight to see. 12 surface ships in a 2-3-2-3-2 pattern cut sharply through the glistening swell. At the head sailed two Oliver Hazard Perry Class Frigates, HRMS Fisher and HRMS Marten. Behind and between them, the menacing lines of the ACCC Mutation Class Battleship, HRMS Badger, moved menacingly through the water, flanked by two Ticonderoga Class Cruisers, HRMS Meerkat and HRMS Mink.

Further back, two Wasp Class Amphibious Assault Ships, HRMS Boar and HRMS Shoat, forged through the seas in their wake, their decks crowded with Ospreys and Harriers. To the rear of these two, rode the proud vessel HRMS Cheetah a Nimitz Class Aircraft Carrier. Flanking her were two Arleigh Burke class Destroyers, HRMS Wolverine and HRMS Puma. Finally, two more Oliver Hazard Perry Class Frigates, HRMS Gazelle and HRMS Pronghorn provided rearguard security. Deep below the warm waters, a single Seawolf Class submarine, HRMS Eel, patrolled well out ahead of the fleet, while a second, HRMS Squid, lingered well back of the battle group.

On every deck, sailors lounged easily after completing their duties. Belowdecks, life went as usual for a modern sailor in a modern navy. Fleet exercises in support of Marine Expeditionary Units were standard practice, and many of the sailors had deployed with Wolfish forces in combined exercises previously. On board Boar and Shoat, marines jogged shirtless on the deck, while others performed feats of strength in an impromptu weightlifting competition using buckets of seawater. In the forward wardroom, a running game of Texas Hold ‘Em provoked good natured catcalls and whoops of pleasure. The 5th and 7th MEU (SOC)'s had never been to Niue, but they had trained with their Wolfish counterparts and knew what to expect: superior tactics, overwhelming firepower and great parties after the work was done.

ISA Report 835K43
Wolfish/Hatchibombitar War Games

Fleets from Wolfish and Hatchibombitar gathering for declared wargames near Niue. Several fleets inbound. Satellites have confimed the ships, and everything seems in order. However, recent economic turns in Wolfish indicate that this is a political move, perhaps by President Todler to show that Wolfish is still strong. Although it is unlikely that these are more than mere war games, additional surveillance is requested, as is Standard Operating Procedure.

In other aspects, sales of grains are going well, and we appear to be gaining some ground in the Wolfish economy. Nothing dominant, but we are being seen and heard. Exports to other nations have risen accordingly. Gen-En crops have gained respect from former skeptic nations. This is proving a very profitable venture for us, and may yield closer ties with the North Atlantic Markets.

Also, attempts to export othergoods toWolfish proven valuable, and they are buying much....

Where is that damn furniture polish?

I’ve told them so many times that leaving cups on the cherry wood tables leaves marks!

Supply closet Four was not a room as much as it was a walk in closet with enough room for a single chair beneath a series of shelf’s containing standard cleaning solutions and toilet paper rolls and paper towels for the executive washrooms. On slow days, James McGivvin would sit on the chair and read the books he had brought in over the seventeen years he had been working at the Wolfish presidential palace.

Today it was a selection of two hundred year old poetry from Roania that was just getting good when he was called over the walkie-talkie to clean the Cabinet conference room in preparation for the news conference on the economic crisis.

It wasn’t a bad job, James reflected as he rummaged around for the polish. After thirty years working for GEC Spirits Market Development Division (Long-Term Dept.), being posted in a low risk assignment was a pleasant end to a successful career. He still shudders at some of his past postings…Walrus washer in Vrak…still gives him nightmares once and awhile.

It was while he was in the moment of nostalgia that James heard the commotion outside the supply closet door. He normally keeps the door closed when he takes a break from work to read. He opened the door slightly and caught a glimpse of a marine’s uniform as it ran by the door.

That was odd, standard military units have not been seen in the presidential compound since the civil war some years before. Curious as to what the marine was running towards, James began opening the door more when he suddenly saw the blood splatter on the wall next to the lifeless body of one of the presidents personal security men.

This was not good, not good at all. James might have been old but he remembered his training. Quickly he began opening the bindings of the books he had piled on the floor next to his reading chair. A battery here, a transponder there, slowly the communicator began to take shape as James struggled to get the device working before they began to systematically sweep the floors for people.

“Agent W136 reporting unusual military activity in ops area, possibility of coup in process. Please respond. Over.” James was pretty sure the signal would get out but there was no guarantee someone would be monitoring his signal frequency after so many years of inactivity. It was the second but not last shock for him that day when almost immediately the little device in his hand began to transmit a response.

“Agent W136, you are to remain in your current area and continue to observe the situation. Report only when you have confirmation of the identity of the individual or individuals in control of the government. Destroy your mobile transmitter and activate your implanted transceiver. Do not respond to this message. Over.”

This must be bigger than I thought.

James hated using the implant, it was supposed to be completely safe but anything that was powered off his pacemaker made him jittery. He had just finished dumping the transmitter into a chemical concoction he had prepared when the supply closet door was forced open and he was face to face with an MP-5 equipped with a silencer.

“Name and Rank, Now!” Yelled the soldier.

“James McGivvin, Maintenance worker class 3.”

The soldier whispered something into his throat mike and waited about a minute for the response before backing slowly out of the doorway all the while pointing his gun at James’s head.

“You are to follow me to, any attempt at deviation will result in your termination. Do you understand?

James nodded enthusiastically.

“Bring your cleaning supplies.”

Five minutes later James was on his hands and knees cleaning blood and skull pieces off the wall opposite the presidential office. He was about to finish when the doors were thrust open and an imposing man in a general’s uniform strode out of the office. The way the two soldiers supervising the clean-up operation snapped to attention indicated that they were responding with fear more then the normal respect for military hierarchy.

"I think I have found the big honcho", muttered James as he activated the transceiver with his tongue.

“General Blackstone, I might have guessed. This is going to get interesting, very interesting.”

Kenoko, Imperial Shinoxia
The Citadel

Following the election of the Imperial Shinoxian party to the leadership of Shinoxia, the Communists have fled Shinoxia and have set up their own nation, Neo Shinoxia, on one of Shinoxia's former territories.

High King of Shinoxia, James O'Kelly, had just learned of the impending war on Wolfish.

"Has there been any hostilities toward this nation yet?" the High King asked General Robert Moore.

"Good King, from the documents that were left behind by the Reds, there seems to be no attacks, however Wolfish has experienced an economic collapse, and I think the former regime would have loved to take advantage of that." General Moore kept looking through folders that had discovered in the Orchestrator's Quarters when the Communists had fled Shinoxia.

James O'Kelly skimmed through some folders himself, he noticed that many of them were too burned to read, the Communists didn't want to leave anything behind.

But then he found something...interesting.

Near the bottom of his pile he saw a partially burned folder with some interesting contents.

He read it.

As of 4:30, Friday, Febuary 27, Orchestrator Andrew Shackleton has ordered for one hundred fifty Arctic Partisans to land in Wolfish to encourage the release of Communist leader, James Greene.

"General!" The High King shouted to Moore and handed him the folder.

The General read over the documents and a look of discomfront and fear spread over his face as he looked at the paper in the folder.

The Partisans are to, upon landing in a rural community, set up protests among the populace to relese James Greene from his prison, TAL-4.

The two men read no further.

"General Moore, you must recall the Partisans, get them back before we have them trying to set up some Commie governement in Wolfish."

The General looked as though his King has caused him pain.

"I can't do that, it says that the submarines the Partisans were sailing in cut off communications to prevent detection, they know nothing of the regime change, nothing of Neo Shinoxia, nothing."

High King James O'Kelly looked worried.

"Can we send out another sub to bring these men back?" He asked.

General Robert Moore shook his head.

"It would be too risky, they would both risk being detected."

"Then we can only pray?" the High King slumped in his chair.

"I'm afraid so." Robert Moore nodded.

Don't Give Up the Ship!

Meeting Room
Valhalla Command Center
Transnapastain
Secret IC

“Okay, people, lets see what we’ve got” said General Harlim, supreme commander of Transnapastain’s Armed Forces

The gathered military leaders prepared to present their reports. Someone was there to represent the Army, Air Fleet, Navy and OIS.

The Army had nothing new to report, the military and been 100% reequipped with the new M8 assault rifles. Training scores had improved, and the old weapons had been sold off or shifted to the Reserves. The garrison on Wake Island was firmly established.

The Air Fleet reported that the Migest had finished repairs at Shiner AFB and was ready to be redeployed. Air Intelligence reported no activity of interest.

The Navy reported that the 7th fleet was nearly complete, waiting on the completion of Nialiak Armageddonater-Class ship, to be bought and installed as the flagship for the 7th, the 5th and 6th fleet did not have current custom flagships like the other 4 fleets, so Bear-Class battleships we’re being used until bigger ships could be bought or built. All shipyard facilities were busy with the competition of the 7th. Navy Intelligence had captured imagoes of what looked like a Hatchibombitar fleet in route to Niue, however, a query of the public information system said this force was to engage in war games with Wolfish Niue forces, and was ahead of schedule.

OIS commented that no new interior threats presented themselves, and all was well within the nation. However, they did note that Wolfish had been buying many raw, war related materials, This info thanks to the Intelligence sharing done with the ISA in Kaukolastan, from which they obtained a decent amount of oil. Also noted was the fact that Wolfish was also selling bonds to the international community.

“Any questions?” asked Harlim

There were none

As General Davis left the room, he had a nagging feeling that something was not right. Why would they move up their war games, and so near to the nation that is now flooding their imploded economy with cheap grain? I don’t like it…He decided this matter might need his special attention. He retuned to his office and requested 24-7 SatRec surveillance on Niue, and a possible Recon flight over the island, Im most likely just being paranoid, but as Chief of homeland and regional Intel, I suppose that’s why im paid, Im sure there’s nothing wrong, but this coincidence is too much to ignore…

An idea occurred to him, Grand Admiral Pearson had dealt with Wolfish and Hatchibombitar forces before in the Rebeland debacle, perhaps he should assume command of the Wake Island fleet, should anything occur there and there was no evidence that it would, but having Pearson, a good Admiral with experience with the possible enemy, would not be a bad idea. Besides, the old mans getting pissy just sitting around in the capital barking orders in an office and not on a bridge, sending him to Wake ought to shut him up and make him happy. Davis placed a call to General Harlim…

* Office of General Patterson, Wolfish Marine Force Commander, Barrier Island Military Base*

General Harry Patterson had never been one for reading…and now, as Commander, Wolfish Marine Forces that seemed to be all he ever did.

With responsibility for Wolfish’s most elite forces – he had to keep current on everything from world affairs to the price and availability of toilet paper.

He pulled out his glasses and flipped the coversheet over – “First Step:,” he read, “Operation Runaway Mutt.”

The first page was a warning that the following pages contained “Eyes Only” materials…blah, blah, blalh – he turned to the third page.

“Operation Runaway Mutt

To ensure World stability and to secure the economic viability of Wolfish proper – Praetorian Command Recommends the following first steps toward eliminating the threat of Empassioned Peoples:

1. Insertion of a Recon and Tactical Surveillance Team (RATS). My command recommendation is to insert three squads, each independent and unaware of the others. Squad Able should be air-dropped into enemy territory. Squad Baker should gain entry by stowing away on an inbound freighter, and Squad Charlie should infiltrate through covert submarine insertion.

2. Once RATS are in-country – priority should be given to observation of “first strike” targets – with a priority again to harbours or airports capable of handling invasion forces.

3. RATS should be equipped with materials and supplies necessary for stage 1 through 3 conflict – including surveillance equipment, light arms, air-strike targeting equipment, medium weapons (DART and anti armour systems), demolition charges, and supplies for a maximum 1 month of independent operation.

While it will be possible to re-supply these forces following an invasion – doing so before hand would risk our security.

4. Once first strike targets are establish – a RATS team should provide information on secondary targets including transit systems, and domestic infrastructure.

Extraction or resupply will take place following any invasion.”

Patterson couldn’t help but smile as he continued to read – it was his idea to form the RATS – Special Ops teams designed to live in country in secret for months at a time – they would avoid contact and provide critical data to Wolfish military planners – then, once an attack was underway – they would provide Spec-Ops support to the invasion – including blowing the crap out of high-value targets.

He flipped through the next 10 pages, each outlining in more and more detail the plans for the three teams – everything was in perfect order.

He reached for his pen and scrawled along the inside “Eyes Only” page – “Nicely done. Forward to General Blackstone for Information Purposes – Authorization Granted for Immediate Execution.”

* Wolfhair Island Naval Base*

Admiral Zack Westley pulled on his new dress uniform – the “Vice” insignia gone, now, for the first time bearing the extra star, and an extra strip. Today would be a good day, he thought.

He walked out of his quarters to the waiting jeep – his yeoman standing at attention, carefully holding a salute.

They drove down the hill, past the research centre towards the harbour, where his first official duty as Fleet Admiral awaited.

As they drove around the last corner, before the docks – he caught his breath as he saw the Mutation-class carrier Thorson at dock – her hull gleaming in the early morning sun.

“God she’s a sight.”

“Aye Sir she is. Fresh from the shipyards – bet the paints still wet.”

They pulled up to the quay, and the Admiral hopped out of the jeep, and began the long walk up to the flight deck – as he stepped on the asphalt coated steel, he watched as the flag of the Admiralty was raised from the Island’s highest point.

“Admiral On The Deck!” cried the Yeoman, as the officers of the taskforce came to attention and saluted.

“Admiral – welcome to the Thorson,” said Battlegroup Admiral Brack. “Would you like a tour Sir?”

“Yes…” Westley replied – somewhat distracted as he looked across the harbour – into the straight beyond – from this vantage point he could see the rest of the battlegroup lying at anchor – waiting to begin their mission – 8 warships plus their tenders waiting to represent their nation the only way they knew how…though the crew and command here still believed they were heading to battle friendly forces in wargames – Westley knew better.

“Actually Admiral – no – no time for a tour – lets head to your briefing room with your command staff. We need to have a word about your…war games.”

“Aye Sir. Of course,” replied the puzzled battlegroup commander.

Later that morning Battlegroup 12 (Thorson) left harbour and joined up with BG-10 – they formed up into one immense convoy and set course for Niue, where Taskforce Alfa and BG-14 (Remus) were already on station.

*Plattsville: Headquarters of Wolfish Space Command*

Kyle Jorgan loved his job – basically a couple billion dollars worth of computer technology under his control – the world’s most powerful video game in his mind…

But today was shaping up to be a busy one.

He had a whole page of “redirects” orders to redeploy satellites to new orbital tracks – looked like someone in Empassioned Peoples had done something to piss someone off – 4 birds would be peeking down on that tiny nation within 8 orbits – and he was burning about a months worth of fuel to get the birds on those tracks.

He’d never get to see the pictures – but at least he could make sure the orbits hit the right spots at the right times – that was why they paid him the “medium bucks”.

* TAL-4*

Admiral Hallsey had never been so degraded in his entire life.

After being admitted, finger printed, retinal scanned, voice-printed – and had a “distinguishing marks inventory” completed – he’d been searched. Inside and out. For going on three hours now, he’d been standing naked in the admitting office while filing out paperwork.

“Do you have any medical conditions that require medication?”

He shook his head no.

“Do you have a pacemaker, or any other artificial parts?”

Again no.

A hundred more questions – then his hair was shaved off – and he was given his “welcome pack” – heavy weight paper coveralls, and flip-flop type shoes (designed to conduct electricity to comply with standards for “Kill Switch” protocols). He also received a tattoo on his left forearm, and a microchip implant in his right pectoral muscle.

After that he was lead through a series of vault doors, and then left by his escort….

“You will proceed to your cell alone. Guards do not enter the cell block areas. You will follow the floor lights to your cell. Should you not follow the light – or should you deviate from the path – your floor area will be electrified, killing you instantly. Do you understand prisoner 298-538-Zulu-Zulu-6?”

“I understand,” replied Hallsey.

As he began to move forward he tried to keep his head high, but it was too hard.

Sub-Director Allens turned to his analyst board, his lips pursed in thought. "So, " he started. "Wolfish purchased all of these supplies from us?"

"Yes, sir. Mostly from Sorobade and Corsis firms, plus some Artems and Valen combines." One of the Section Chiefs responded.

Allens reviewed the list again. "Jesus." He turned his head slightly. "This list just bellows 'War Material'. There's two options here, people, two ideas. Anyone tell me what I'm thinking?"

A Section Chief from Corsis replied, "Well, Sir. Either it's a continued bluff, to go along with the games, to show that their economy is recovering, and to not mess with them. Or... the hammer's about to fall. Most likely, first option."

"Very good. However, we're paid to worry about the Second Option. Probable targets if it is?" Allens was pacing.

"Not the Directorate, sir. We've been on good terms with Wolfish for years, and the only time we came close to bad was in that Rebeland fiasco. We're trading partners, mutually respected, and have several treaties on the boards. Now, they're buying from our nation. It's a safe bet that we're not the targets for the hypothetical strike."

Someone commented, "It isn't Roania. No one wants to stick their head in the hornet's nest."

"I think we can rule out all the larger nations, actually. What would make sense would be for Wolfish to strike a smaller nation that had given it some sliver of a reason, to show the world it can still bite. This is acutally parallel to the war game idea, just larger." Another Section Head pointed out.

Allens nodded. "Very well, then. We keep selling. Wolfish is not threatening us, nor our allies. If some little nation in the Pacific gets reamed, we sell Wolfish the supplies to do it, then sell the little nation the supplies to rebuild from it, maybe offer a treaty or something. Double your profit, cut your losses. This is the worst case scenario, boys and girls, but we'd better be ready to move on it, just in case." He paused. "This is all postulating, though. Our dossiers on Todler don't suggest anything of this sort. Unless he's had a massive change of heart, this is just a front, designed to strengthen his nation while not doing any outside damage. I say we operate under this assumption until contradicted."

The meeting continued.

OIS Command
Valhalla Command
Office of General Davis

This Wolfish/Hatchibombitar thing keeps getting better and better thought Davis as he studied the SatRec maps.

They showed a large convoy of ships departing a Wolfish Naval instillation, on a predicted course to Niue…and were tentatively tagged as Wolfish Battle Group 12. Whoa, that’s a lot of warships! Davis thought as he added their numbers to the already existing forces of Wolfish at Niue, tentatively tagged as Battle Group 14, and other ships which did not match the specs of any other battle group Intel knew of, so it was assumed to be a collection of ships drawn other Battle groups.Why would you need that many warships for friggen war games! This is weird…weird is bad…weird means trouble…but moving more ships into the Wake Island area would be dumb, and might even provoke something, so my hands are tied! He still thought maybe, just maybe, this was really war game, and Wolfish just really wanted to crush his opposition…but that nagging feeling wouldn’t go away…he couldn’t be sure…and it was his job to be sure…Damnit I hate this…he thought as he lit a cigar

The Party Leader stared a the reports incredulously,
“This can’t be right.” He mumbled. Collecting his composure and calming his nerves he pressed the button for his aide on the telephone. After a brief pause the aid entered slightly nervously.
“Tyler,” the PL said slowly “I want you to bring all this information to *[classified]* see what she has to say about, send her my way after she’s reviewed it.” The aide bowed out of the imposing office as soon as the folder was passed to him.

After an hour or so the PL looked up from his paperwork at the stunning blonde who’d barged into his office throwing both doors wide open.
“Is this some kind of joke?”
“No it’s not now close my doors and have a seat.” After she settled the PL gave her a look up and down, he couldn’t help it he did every staff meeting. She knew that dress uniform skirt drove him insane, he sometimes wondered if she still wore it simply to goad more out of him. Clearing his throat the PL continued,
“Wolfish has stepped up their war games and increased surveillance of us. I want you to take 12 apaches and 10 of our B-2’s off to,” slides an envelope across the table “this location and engage in some military exercises, you’ll be nice and out of the way until this blows over.”
“Do you really think the shit is gonna hit the fan?”
“No I don’t, a nation like Wolfish isn’t gonna make any brash moves, they’re a careful and thoughtful people. I’m sure Todler would contact me or make some form of statement, a warning or an ultimatum at most. And as a back up plan I’ve taken steps to cease shipments immediately on a moments notice, but until I hear a warning I’ll assume everything is fine.” Leaning back into his leather office chair the PL thought to himself again, ‘everything is fine’

The papers in front of the group, the Generals, admirals, intel directors, cabinet members, President, and President-Elect all read the same thing.
[COMFLASH-HIGHLIGHT "WOLFISH"]
Annoncement WolfGov
"Tomahawk Cruise Missiles - Order Complete
Refined JP-5 Jet Fuel
Bunker Fuel
Heavy Oil
Diesel Fuel
Gasoline
Propane
Cotton
Rubber
Carbon Fibre
Brass
Tungsten
Lead
Copper
Aluminium
Bulk gun powder
Raw Kevlar sheeting
Raw steel roll - cold pressed
processed Titanium
Meals-Ready-To-EAT (MREs)
anti-shipping mines"
[Manuvers.Wolfish/Hatchibombitar.Niue]
-HTBR Forces
-One Battleship
-Three Carrier
-Two AAS
-Multiple Submarines (Unconfirmed)
-WLFH Forces
-BG 12, BG 10, BG 14 (Consult NAVSPEC Wolfish for further information)
"Gentlemen," President Dleroes began, addressing the tired room, "This fleet information is more than a cause for alarm. Coupled with a high demand of war materials, and the crushing flood of TEP grain, this could lead to difficulties. This is all based on the information you've given to us during our previous meet. Any further complications since then?"
The Secretary of Commerce, Adam Kilzer, a short man, leaned forward.
"UnderIndustries made a multi-billion credit contract for freighters with TEP... We can't do anything about it."
"And when will the next pass of the Parasites (Commercial satellite hardwired with KH sensor suite) hit them? We're gonna need more than this," the Admiral spoke, holding the sheets in his hand, "to be able to do anything. Hell, why not NIRTS or a Peeping Tom?"
"The launch of an Ascender filled with NIRTSats will redlight us, they've already begun redeployment of their assets."
"Something more Stealthy then? An RF-119? EB-2, either of the MegaFortresses?"
"This is going to be a long night, everyone. Take a break, it's only One in the morning."

Deleted.

tag

President Skyler Green sat in his office at 7:30 on a Tuesday morning. His secretary came over the intercom.

“Sir, I have the classified intelligence report for you from GLS.” GLS, which stood for Global Lookout System, was run by Wert’s intelligence agency and every morning a report appeared on desk. Normally it was that boring stuff, however he had already been informed that this was no ordinary report.

“Bring it in now please.” Said the President.

9.4 seconds later, according to his watch the report appeared.

“A little slow today Alice.” The president said.

“Sorry Sir.” Alice replied as she hurried out for more coffee.

The President opened the report. Page one through seven showed the first of three startling events. It showed pictures an armament of warships leaving Wolfish, Intelligence and another photo informed the President that these ships were joining others and heading the Island of Niue. The second was building onto the first event these war games had been moved up in time and increased in size from those that were announced a short while ago. The third was perhaps the strangest of all. There was a stop of all communication out of the Wolfish White House (didn’t know what to call it). As well as a large amount of Marines, which seemed to enter about two days ago, and not left. The final page was a theory page. It had two theories, the first was that Wolfish and Hatch speed up war games to flex there muscle in a time of trouble, or the second which seemed to grow with relevance by the second was that Wolfish was going to attack a small country with the same purpose, to flex its muscle. However there was only one theory to explain the lack of communications as well as the marine force, a coup.

“Alice what is my schedule today?”

“Environmental Convention at 11:00”

“Cancel it.”

“You’re supposed to meet with the Department of Transportation Secretary at 12:30.”

“Cancel it.”

“Lunch at 2 with your wife.”

“Damn, I’ll cancel that one.”

“Schedule a meeting with the head of all branches of the military, the Secretary of Defense, the Vice President, and the Secretary of State for 11:00.
In the mean time I want as many pic’s of these war games as possible, as well as pic’s of Wolfish, get that order the GLS people. Tell the WIA I want a report on what small countries Wolfish could attack. Got all that?”

“Of course Sir.”

Osaria Cafe
Downtown Osaria, 4:38PM

The same Cafe, but different time -- people just got off their daily jobs. Lines of cars traveled, as schoolchildren roamed and young Omzians "came and go" in the shops and stores around the area. The sky was still bright, as usual in summer. Therefore, it is a great time to have people talk. Talk.

Two young, low-level governmental officals, both from the Interior Affairs Ministry, just got the news that certain mobilization has began in both Wolfish and Hatchibombitar, and the Wolfish request of a massive amount of military-grade materials. Although Wolfish has been an Omzian ally, these certainly also caused great concerns for the Omzian government, since these wargames mostly involved power projection weaponeries -- that is, carrier battle groups and Marines. This news has suddenly became one of the hottest topic among Omzian government personnels. "This Wolfish thing, it is certainly getting hotter, Jana... Have you heard of that report of fleet movements by both Hatchi-whatever and Wolfish?"

Jana looked up. "Must be a wargame, or just some kind of small exercise..."

Noran looked at the sky with his female partner facing him, also from the Interior Affairs Ministry. Thinking about the news he just heard before getting off from work, he suddenlt popped up with a question. "Jana, don't you think this movement is a bit... unusual? Not only is this mobilization so sudden, but it does involve a large amount of offensive weaponeries... The government hasn't commented yet, but the news is indeed out. What do you think of this? Don't get me wrong, I know Wolfish isn't our enemy, but this is somehow unusual, especially with the big economical collapse..."

Jana looked at him, and quickly replied while taking a sip from the coffee. Although she is young, her father worked in the military, and fought with Wolfish in the RGGA days. She slowly changed the line of her sight, and opened her mouth. "Well, as you know, Wolfish isn't that of a hostile country, and with the governments stomping on themselves with these massive wargames everyday perhaps, it isn't unusual. As the government said anyways, sicne that is not threatening us, let's just be neutral. But Noran, you are also aware of the late developments that some Wolfish military figures has gone... let's say, out of sight?"

"Indeed," Noran replied instantly. "And the government is also having a bit of concern also. Still the question remains: why in the world would they continue to mobilize continue even with that economic collapse? Civil instability? Sudden changes, or should we say -- maybe purges, of officals?"

Jana looked at him. "Indeed, I do not know. But let's just hope, this is just a wargame between themselves, Noran."

150 kilometres off the northern coast of Wolfish

It was a very unpleasant evening. The merciless artic weather patterns guaranteed that there was going to be few calm nights ahead for the crew of the Bad Listener. They had only been out there a week-and-a-half and already almost all the SIGINT technicians had been become violently ill and listless.

Capt. Finnion didn’t mind the constant wind and frigid temperatures, made him nostalgic for his home and its almost endless frozen tundra. He had been only 5 when GEC Corporate Authority Security Forces had annexed his homeland and incorporated its people and natural resources into its growing mercantile empire.

He really couldn’t complain though, as a hard-charger for the CASF he had learned some languages, a couple skills and visited places beyond his imagination. This was not one of them.

They had been monitoring trade negotiations in Mercia the Next Generation Region when something got the Head Office’s panties in a twist. The Bad Listener and three other SIGINT/ELINT vessels were reassigned without so much as an explanation on what the sudden emergency was.

His ship, the Bad Listener was a modified AGF-3 La Salle Command Ship that had about two hundred analysts and SIGINT specialists working in 8 hour shifts. To keep its cover, most of the ship had been converted so that a cursory examination would reveal it to be a civilian trawler crewed by a large concentration of myopic fishermen. Only if the large tarps on the bow and stern were removed would the omni-directional transceiver globes be revealed and its true nature known.

GEC procedure stated that effort should be made to keep the operational cover viable by having some of the crew work the fishing machinery once and awhile. Capt. Finnion took this several steps further by insisting that all technicians work an eight-hour shift on the rigs. Initially the tech boys cried bloody murder but when the Captain made some ominous threats about reviving some ancient mariner forms of punishment, they got in line pretty quick.

“The problem with analysts is that are pretty odd to big with.” Wrote Captain Finnion in his log. “The nature of the work attracts some pretty bizarre characters and the endless hours in front of a computer doesn’t do much for their mental stability either. I think that a little hard work will do them some good, at the least it will give me a good chuckle.”

Two other ships, the Rusted Workhorse and the Unending Hangover had been converted in a similar fashion. The fourth vessel, the Court Jester, was a signal clutter ship. Its job was to saturate the frequency band with programs from the GEC Entertainment Division. The idea was that with all the electronic noise the Court Jester was making, no one notice the tight band transmissions from the other three vessels. Captain Finnion hoped it would work; Wolfish had a nasty reputation of “disappearing” anyone they thought was conducting intelligence-gathering operations in their region.

It wouldn’t matter that they had been unable to crack Wolfish military naval codes; the directed payload of an Aegis cruiser would send them to a watery grave.

Since their deployment to the region, their motley little fleet had negotiating 20-foot waves, 60 kph winds and a plethora of hunter-seeker subs. upon arrival, the only interesting thing that had happened in Finnion’s opinion was the disclosure of a Development and Acquisitions team in Empassioned Peoples.

They aren’t deployed unless there is something that the bigwigs at GEC want very badly and through very discreet channels.

Whatever the reason they were sent there for suddenly seemed irrelevant when the intensity and frequency of military signal traffic coming from Wolfish quadrupled in a matter of days. This was matched by signal traffic from at least a half-dozen other nations present in the region. Capt. Finnion thought this was just a case of sabre rattling when something happened that would change the entire mission and perhaps their very lives.

While scanning the frequency range two days ago, the Bad Listener picked up a signal from a sleeper agent the even Head office had forgotten about. It transmission indicated that the increased military traffic was merely a component of a much larger picture. The Wolfish civilian government had been overthrown and replaced with a military junta.
Capt. Finnion immediately sent this report to the GEC NORTHCOM Intelligence and Command Centre with his personal assessment on the situation.

“Considering that we lack the most rudimentary capabilities to defend ourselves, I request that the flotilla be immediately withdrawn and replaced with more combat capable ships. Wolfish will undoubtedly increase their naval patrols in light of the change in government. At the very least, allow us to withdraw to a safer distance.”

The response from HQ had arrived while he was on deck reflecting. The communication officer handed it to him and impatiently shuffled in an effort to get excused and return inside.

“The flotilla will not be replaced and is not permitted to withdraw.
-If there is a large-scale fleet movement from Wolfish, the Rusted Workhorse and Unending Hangover are ordered to shadow them.
-The Bad Listener and Court Jester will proceed towards Empassioned People and wait for instructions.
-If the possibility of capture arises, all captains are instructed to deny any foreign forces access to our vessels using any method necessary.

Finnion chuckled, “Well, that’s just dandy.”

“BARNEY! PRESIDENT TODLER’S COMING ON THE TV.”

“Alright woman – I’m coming.”

The television goes blank for a split second, then a picture of a tired looking Todler appears – sitting on the corner of his desk – tie slightly off centre, top button unclasped.

“Friends – it has been a long couple of weeks for our nation – and I’m sorry I haven’t spoken with you earlier than this – but – well I think you’ll understand that we’ve been quite busy trying to get a handle on the situation.

And I think we’ve done that.

But first, let’s start with what happened, and why.

One month ago scientists working for BioVale Crops noted that several of their corn silos had been infested by the Short-Horned Grasshopper – what the media have been calling locust.

Most of you have seen our “friend” – in your gardens – smudged on your windscreen…It has been described as a plague of Biblical proportions. I don’t know about that – but what I do know is that within a matter of weeks this insect (he holds up a jar, containing a short-horned grasshopper) has destroyed over 100 billion in agricultural product – and has caused – directly or indirectly – over two trillion in damage to our economy.

The second challenge to face Wolfish was the flood of the Vulcan river system. This natural event happens every century or so – and in spite of our river damming and diversion projects – it happened again.

The river valley – bisecting our nation – cuts through some of the best grain growing land in the region.

But – the crops are gone – and like adding salt to a wound – it has added to our challenges.

Worse than the actual events has been the spin-off effects….farmers without money or crops have not ordered supplies for the next season – they haven’t bought new equipment, or taken their families on vacation.

Equipment manufacturers, without orders to fill, have laid off staff. Other industries have suffered as a result.

We’ve seen insurance companies go broke with payouts totaling in the billions for economic damages – causing more layoffs.

In one month our national unemployment rate went from a static 2 per cent to over 6 per cent.

The results of one insects natural appetite (holds up the jar) has crushed our economy.

But (looks up at camera – straightens up) But we are Wolfish.

We have faced trials before – successfully.

We have built one of the finest economies.

We have weather many storms and we will weather this.

Already many nations have come to our aid – offering assistance – offering a hand up.

But some….some have tried to do what this grasshopper has done. Some have tried to dine on our heart and on our soul.

(He throws the jar against the floor – the camera pans down from an angry looking Todler to the dead grasshopper – stiff amongst the shards of glass).

One nation (he stands) one nation above all others has sought to hurt Wolfish – one nation has sought to take advantage of our misfortune….

The Nation of Empassioned Peoples has declared economic war against my nation – my home.

The Nation of Empassioned People has tried to cripple us by illegally dumping artificially low priced grain on our all ready fragile economy.

This is an attack against our economy – this is an attack against our way of life – this is an attack against Wolfish.

Our Empire may be wounded – but it is strong. Our Empire is bruised - but we still swing a mighty stick. Our Empire is battered – but we are resolved.

Citizens. Friends. We have put our hand out in need – put our hand out in friendship – and Empassioned Peoples has slapped it away….

They have done so at their peril.

Today Wolfish has filed papers with the World Trade Commission, and the United Nations seeking damages against the EP for economic harms caused through deliberate actions.

We will receive justice in this matter.

In the coming days and weeks, we must remain strong and united.

Be assured your government is working hard to make sure our lives return to the affluence that we have all known and come to expect.

I remain your faithful servant.

Good Night.

The light on the top of the camera switched off, and the broadcast was done.

The Marine behind the camera gave Todler a smile.

Todler didn’t notice – he took a step forward and looked General Blackstone in the eye.

“Let her go now. I did it.”

Blackstone turned to the other marine in the room – the one with the silenced pistol pressed against the side of Todler’s aides head.

“Very well Mr. President – you’ve done your job for today. Private – let the girl go.”

He released her and she immediately ripped the gag out of her mouth and began to cry.

“Todler – don’t wander off. We may need another speech,” said Blackstone as he turned and left the room.

He walked past the makeshift sleeping quarters set up for the “prisoners” to the elevator where the guard was stationed.

“I’m heading back to WDC – I’ll take the tunnel.”

The soldier saluted and spoke into his microphone as the elevator doors closed.

The PL watched the clip again. A distant and weary looking Todler had made an address to his beleaguered people.
“Well sir should we call off the wheat shipments?” His ever present aide asked.
“No, we’ll wait until we receive something official from the WTC and in which case we will make an official response. As it is we can simply plead ignorance about this clip as it was not addressed to us but rather about us.” The PL stretched out in his recliner and continued “now if that is all you interrupted my nap” and without another word he rolled over and proceeded to doze off.

-Imperial HQ-

As Aaronius sits at his desk with his old friend Alexi Stuckov, head of Wazican’s special operations forces, they go over the weekly rounds. But this time it is different, with the regime change in Shinoxia and the developments in Wolfish things are looking very interesting.

“Sir reports from our African colonies indicate that all is well...”

“Alexi, you know me better than that, you know what is on my mind”

“Yes Sir, I was wondering when you would get to that. Which one do you want first, Wolfish or Shinoxia’s situational reports?”

“Wolfish he seems more urgent”

“Indeed he is sir. As you can see from this secret telegram that I received from Shinoxia before the regime change” Alexi slides a manilla folder across the desk “Shinoxia has already launched Special Ops forces. But I plan, with your consent of course a similar operation that would be able to expand upon Shinoxia’s initial insertion.”

“Please go ahead I am very interested”

“Well Sir as you can see Shinoxia has deployed some of its partisan soldiers”

“Yes, go ahead”

“Well, I was planning that we bring in a massive shipment of food, supplies and weapons to feed the revolt that Shinoxia is creating.”

“Very well but how do you plan on doing this?”

“It is actually very simple, as you know we have a very old captured frigate that we have already repainted and made out an official commercial license that cannot be traced back to Wazican or any other antarctic nation. We will load it full of an undesirable product, so it will be overlooked by port security in the rush to get more grain and other agricultural products in fast. In the chaos of the port systems we will unload our massive shipments and take them to an overlooked warehouse. This will serve as our base of operations and we will then be able to commence the propaganda efforts and finding Shoxia’s forces. If an actual invasion comes these troops will be deployed as recon forces to spy on high value targets, and demolition forces.”

“Well sounds nice, but what kind of weapons and where are we going to get them our reserves are running low with our mobilizations?”

“That brings me to my next subject, Shinoxia. During the regime change the legion that we had stationed there had to pulled out of there very quickly. But on our way out the communist forces gave us a small portion of their weapons reserves for our personal use. It consists of over 1 million AK-47 assault rifles and about 250 thousand RPG’s. In return we would protect their forces. Should I give the order to allow these weapons and over 1 million communist forces to be able to take refuge in our northern mountain ranges under our protection?”

“I strongly supported the communist regime in Shinoxia and was very angered when that new fangeled hippy group came in and forced them out. I not only want them to be able to hide here but we will launch strikes from here to reclaim their homeland, but that will be covered later...in the meantime lets concentrate on the situation in Wolfish. I would like to help the communist Shinoxians in Wolfish and I have the same reasons for deploying special forces there.”

“Yes sir, I will give word immediately. Should I also give word to let the merchant ship sail sir and all of its cargo?”

“Yes, but first I want the details on this operation”

“Oh yes sir, sorry in my haste I failed to mention these important details. The merchant ship will be escorted by 3 submarine and will avoid all national waters and when they get withing range of Wolfish’s radar and detector the escort force will break away and head across the globe, incase they are followed. Inside of the merchant frigate will be tons of food supplies and about 1 million AK-47 rifles disguised as toilet paper. This food and weapons will be stored in a discrete unguarded warehouse in the middle of the warehouse district where not only can our troops can resupply but we can send the prisoners to after the breakout and the revolution has started.”

“Brilliant, now how many men will be there and what will they be doing?”

“Well 4 completely independent squads of 10 men will be in the country, totaling to 40 men. Alpha Squad will be conducting surveillance on high profile targets(docks, military bases, airfields etc.) Beta Squad will be performing surveillance operations on the TAL-4 prison(our primary target), Charlie Squad will conduct a search to find the Shinoxian partisan soldiers, and Delta Squad will commence in a propaganda campaign(mainly focusing on liberating the TAL-4 prisoners.”

“Very good Alexi, this looks like a well planned operation. I will give the go-ahead on this. But one last thing. Can these troops or supplies be traced back to us?”

“No sir, not at all. The men have suicide pill that they will take if captured. Plus they are unarmed, all they have is some high power cameras and radio equipment. All linking evidence to any equipment has been destroyed.”

“Good, good launch the operation as soon as possible. And Alexi...”

“Yes sir?”

“Get some sleep, your going to need it”

“Sir yes sir, the troops will launch at dawn.”

“Good Job, Dismissed”

As Alexi left the room Aaronius turned his chair to face the window over looking the teeming metrolopolis of Waz, wondering to himself what the hell have I gotten myself into.

It was nice to be on dry land, and it was even more satisfying to have the elephants off the ship. As cruises go, this had been a pleasant one, Celeste reflected. The crossing to Guinness Extra Cold had not been stormy, and the schools of dolphins had been a delight to watch as they skimmed over the water inches from the port bow. Each morning and afternoon, the Queen had rehearsed with the Royal Mahouts, and spending time with both the talented performers and the elephants had done much to put her in high spirits.

It seemed an extraordinary act of serendipitous fortune that had sent her on this journey. Right after they had called Guinness Extra Cold to see about holiday arrangements, Cultural Minister James Osmond had called. It seemed that the royal Mahouts had a booking, and not just any booking but a full tour in…. Guinness Extra Cold! (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=119299&highlight=)

It was at that point that Celeste knew the fates were shining on her. Alison had been dispatched to pack trunks, and various functionaries had made frantic trips to the harbor to ensure the ship was properly prepared. Ah, the ship. When the idea of taking the Royal Mahouts on tour had first been broached, Celeste had insisted that they travel by ship and with only the finest accoutrements. A Roll On/Roll Off ship of recent vintage had been purchased and completely refitted to accommodate 50 elephants in comfort and style. Internal ramps led from holds to the main deck, so that the elephants could take their morning and evening stroll in the brisk salt air. Individual climate control systems had been installed for every elephant “bedroom” as the Queen insisted on referring to them. “Sally” Clayton had been mortified that she had agreed to the ship being named in her honor, protesting in vain that it was undignified for a Queen. Celeste had retorted that the people of Hatchibombitar and the elephants were closest to her heart and that this ship reflected that.

She had summoned Clayton that afternoon to tell him she was leaving, and to discuss the situation in Wolfish. Todler had not answered her message, but no doubt he was tied up dealing with inexplicable behavior of Empassioned Peoples. The Ambassador of Empassioned Peoples had been summoned to the palace, where she had intemperately informed him in no uncertain terms that his nations behavior amounted to nothing more than economic warfare. Cooling slightly, she had given him a formal letter of protest to pass on to his superiors while Clayton grimly watched from a corner of the room.

And now, now she was walking off the dock in Guinness Extra Cold, savoring the day and quite enjoying the attention she was receiving as the leader of a troupe of elephants and handlers. She declined any formal escort from her hosts, preferring to travel as one of the band of performers. As a result, she never saw the three tan men who trailed her up the broad boulevard that led away from sea, never heard them whispering in an odd Haitian patois, nor did she see one of them gesture furtively to the large van that suddenly screeched to a halt in the street before her. Shots rang out, garbled voices shouted, an elephant trumpeted in alarm and soon the whole line thundered with the sound of elephants voicing their fear. The last thing Celeste heard was a sibilant voice that hissed, “Don’t meddle in our affairs, bitch!”. She slumped to the ground, and a red puddle began to form by her neck.

“Economic warfare? She said that?”
…
“Really, she was that pissed?”
…
“I assume you were respectful.”
…
“Good we don’t want to step on any of these giants toes.”
…
“Yes, I’ll e-mail you the official response later, you print it out on the official letter head and sign it and put the seal on it.”
…
“No I have an idea of what to say.”
…
“Yes the letter is on my screen right now.”
…
“Well Wolfish still hasn’t contacted us to say anything either way which gives us some wiggle time. Did she give any indication that she knew we were taking a loss on this?”
…
“I’d be curious to see if it’s a suspicion or if she knows.”
…
“Well I mean come on all of our production facilities for this wheat is in the labs under Patriot city. It’s not like they could run a satellite over one of our fields, unless of course the can see through that much bedrock and sky scraper.”
…
“No that’s all, good night ambassador I know it’s late there.” Hanging up the secure line the PL sighed. Looking around his office he picked up the remnants of his midnight snack from last night, apparently 4am was too early for the cleaning crew he chuckled. Taking a drum stick he exited his office gnawing at the chicken.
“Tyler, I need some figures faked.”
“Hmm wha? Oh, I’m sorry Party Leader I guess I dozed off.” Said the half asleep intern as he roused himself from his desk Stumbling over to the coffee maker he inquired “What is it you wanted sir?”
“Hmm mmm mmm,” chuckled the PL at his young intern. While relatively young he thought knowing he was only 6 years the young man’s senior. “Well the accusations are starting to come out now and we need some more time to weasel around. So I want you to go over to the treasury dept. and get them to create some documents and put their seal on them that they’re official. I want them to make it look like we are making a small margin of profit off these wheat sales. You of course know to go through the appointed members and not the elected ones, tell them I sent you personally. Now I want you to go to my speech writers and tell them that I want an official statement to be delivered from my office, we want to give her highness all the reverence we can, something along the line of we are within out rights however we can have a meeting to discuss your grievances however this is business between the CEP and our clients within Wolfish.” The PL paused to chew at his chicken continuing to speak with a full mouthful, “You get all that Tyler?”
“Yessir, should I bring the letter by you before I send it off to the embassy?”
“Of course, I’d hardly be a good PL is I didn’t have my finger in every pot.” That said the PL went back into his office with a tired smile.




Official Transcript of the Communiqué to The Hatchling Hatchery of Hatchibombitar

Greeting from the Office of the Representative of the Proletariat Party Leader Aj Arseneault;

It has come to the attention of the CEP that you have misgiving of our involvement within the economy of The Enlightened Free Empire of Wolfish. We must assure you our intentions are nothing but admirable and honorable. This is an exercise in open and fair trade between the Wolfish peoples and the CEP. We are however very interested in your opinion and would be more than obliged to having some of your officials to our federal retreat to discuss this situation.

However until we are told otherwise by the federal government of The Enlightened Free Empire of Wolfish we will assume our trade is welcome and appreciated and we will continue. I am disturbed that these trade practices are being referred to as a hostile action on the part of our government. As a gesture of good faith a copy of our shipping records, productions schedules, cost and revenues is being included, we hope this will assuage any further misunderstandings that may arise.


The People

"Bloody hell." Chancellor Fenris stated, resting his head in his hands as he read the report Director Kerrik had given him. "Well, this pretty much explains it, doesn't it? The purchases, the games... tied to Empassioned Peoples' grain attacks. Christ, they could have been more subtle." Fenris paused. "Speaking of... you did something, didn't you, Director."

Kerrik narrowed his eyes in very well feigned surprise. "Never, sir!"

"Then how do you explain the movements of our goods into Wolfish, the purchases of stock, the lowering of threat reports. In fact, I'm willing to bet that you were backing these movements, weren't you, Director?" The old man coughed a little, but then his arrogant tone resumed, "Don't think me stupid, Director. I know what you want. You want to be on top. You want to maneuver into positions that put you ahead!"

You want my seat. Was the unspoken statement.

"Never, sir." Kerrik declared, and he was honest. All I do, I do for my nation. But you're to short sighted to see that, Chancellor. You've grown petty with age. That is why I work in shadows now. I care nothing for my own fate, only this nation. But despite the vitriol in his mind, his words were calm as always, "Sir, the ISA was aware of the developements, but we did not intervene, because the different Section Chiefs felt that our nation would benefit. Imagine, in the aftermath, once Wolfish has recovered. We will have helped them through the dark times, and we would have gained market access, gained prestige. Only good could come of our aide. However, with the recent unpredictable moves from the Wolfish government, we are worried that-"

"This mere saber rattling." Fenris wheezed confidently.

"Likely, sir. If Wolfish moves, they will win, and we could then aide in the rebuilding of that nation. We help the victor, we help the loser. More likely, as you stated, is that they will pressure Empassioned Peoples into rescinding and compensating." Kerrik paused, "There is one danger, of a runaway scenario, in which-"

Fenris coughed again, stopping Kerrik, "Do not bother me with theories, Director. From now on, you will allow me to make every top-level decision of your agency. I'm sick of the ISA shadow-puppetteering this nation."

"Sir, we would never-"

"Quiet, Director, or I will demand your resignation." The man coughed. "Now, since we are involved, we have no choice. Sell your petty wares in your petty plans, Director. You are dismissed."

Kerrik stepped free from the room, and closed the doors behind him. A scowl crawled onto his face. General Cross was waiting outside. "You got picked apart, too?" The portly general asked.

"Of course. The Chancellor has grown bitter, and we are his easiest targets."

"Anderas, I think there's a danger here." Cross stated quietly.

"I concur, Aaron. This could very well cascade. I believe we can ride the tides, but the Chancellor is putting himself in the way of the very gears he forged." Kerrik tasted his teeth. "General, get a Bird ready for flight at a moment's notice. We may need to get a realtime intelligence coup on these "games". Don't move until I give the word."

"Agreed, Director. And, thank you for the intelligence on the fleet make ups. We've pinned down most of the ships now, based on previous records, photos, and reports." Cross glanced at the closed door. "You think this could go bad?"

"Yes." Kerrik stated, glancing at the doors as well. "Certain people will make sure of it."

Neither man stated a name, but both glanced at the closed doors.

GEC Spirits Incorporated Headquarters

High above the smoggy cityscape of Pandemonic, the Board of Directors for GEC Spirits was having an “eventful” emergency session.

"How much money do we put in “Corporate Security Forces” and they can’t even protect one bloody woman on a private dock? We might as well hire friggin penguins with knives taped to them!" The VP for Transoceanic Shipping screamed as he banged the conference table and pointed angrily at his security counterpart.

"Our failure? Listen you little shit, the docks are your responsibility or is running your little dingy fleet just too much for you to handle." Responded the VP in charge of the Corporate Authority Security Force.

The comment did little to bring calm to the situation as both men rose from their seats and continued to yell at each other. Eventually somebody’s mother was accused of infidelity with a sea manatee and security was called in to separate the executives for a “time-out” period.

While this little show was happening, the Head of Tourism was sobbing quietly to himself as he mumbled to a half bottle of Scotch that was quickly emptying itself into his stomach.

“Come to GEC, political assassinations now free of charge with Platinum membership bookings…Who doesn’t love a little change in government …we're ruined…I want my mother.”

Along the walls of the room, advisors and security specialists were engaged in debates ranging from market repercussions to evidence left at the scene indicating Empassioned People.

This chaos would have continued until well into the evening if the only silent man at the table had not decided to speak.

“All of you shut up and listen. The next person who says something will be defenestrated immediately.”

Everyone stopped talking and looked to the head of the table. If the man saying it wasn’t intimidating enough, the two massive “men” behind him grinning menacingly made the point perfectly clear.

“This is what we are going to do. First, I want General Salvatore Clayton on the phone in five minutes. I am going to explain the situation and tell him that the very best medical experts in the country are looking after the Queen. If he has any issues, I will address them.

“Second, I want a TV crew in here in ten minutes. We are going to deal with this before anybody else has a chance. When we are finished, not a person will even think we could have been involved. I want my message broadcasted on every Signal Clutter ship we have. In fact launch all the ones in drydock and have them take positions across the globe. I want total market saturation, every f**king TV will have our message on it.”

“Third…”

“Sir?” One of the newer aides interjected, “Shouldn’t we have the President read the message?”

“You must be new here because any other man would begging for his life while soaked in his own urine.” Chairman Yretrek snarled. “I do not want that lush near a camera during this crisis. Do I make myself clear? Good!”

“Third, I want our entire country and all of our corporate holdings to go to Gamma status. Every foreigner is to be registered and tailed, all communication in and out of this country will be monitored, and houses searched, people interrogated, every stone unturned. All our SIGINT and ELINT resources are going to concentrate on the belligerents in this conflict both new and old. If someone farts I want a report on my desk. Now get the hell out!”

With that, everyone got up and started to shuffle out quickly and quietly. Almost everyone exited through the door to get back to their office, with one lucky individual getting the express service to his car.

On board a commercial Boeing 777 flight from Wolfish to Francos Spain in the Pacific Region

The flight had been normal in all respect – take off from Camden International with a flight profile to Francos Spain – a flight of some 10 hours.

The duty pilot had just switched off with the “rest” pilot as the jetliner entered the Pacific airspace.

“Nice sunset to fly into Charlie,” joked one with the other.

“Screw you – You’re just as old as I am.”

Neither of the two knew that they were moments away from the largest “in flight” emergency either had every faced.

In the large, unheated rear bulk cargo deck – a large cargo container split open – “Okay – clear – keep your voices down – we are in part of the pressurized space – so crew members could come down here.”

Ten men in woodland camo climbed out of the container – each wearing a breathing pack, and burdened with weapons, gear and supplies.

“Everyone – start working your muscles – in this cold and with having been cramped in that for so long your muscles are going to be tight.”

The 10 men spend the better part of the next half hour working their stiff bodies – finally 2nd Lieutenant Torzo grabbed Demolition Expert Malloy.

“Okay Malloy – here’s the door,” the two battle-ready men stood at the port-side 47” door. “Remember – just the hinges – we don’t want half the friggin compartment raining down on Empassioned Peoples.”

“Right,” said Malloy, smiling as he put more than half the explosive putty away. “I’ll just use this much then,” hefting the much smaller ball of high explosive.

“Okay. Everyone – eyes here. Buddy up. I want ‘chutes checked – I want weapons secure – I want checklists complete. In five minutes we “blow and bail”. Is everyone clear on primary and secondary LZs? Good.”

The men poured through their checklists – no ID or dogtags – no “Wolfish specific” products – then the standards for a High-Altitude, Low-Opening (HALO) jump – air supply, altimeter, fly-check (you really don’t want that kind of a draft)….

Malloy worked his magic, while Torzo check his supplies.

“Ready Sir.”

“Good. EVERYONE LOCKDOWN.” With that each man on the team took a nylon strap – attached to the parachute harness, and clipped it to the jetliners cargo tiedowns. When Torzo saw eight thumbs up…ten including his and Malloys…he tapped the Demo mans shoulder and yelled, “GO”.

Six muffled explosions were followed by an incredibly painful ear-popping as the cargo bay suddenly depressurized. The wing torn at the men’s gear, as each clasped tightly to the nylon tie-downs.

“Wait for the pilot to adjust….then we go.” Screamed Torzo into his wireless microphone. The others could barely hear it in their own ear pieces – but they new what he was saying – they’d practiced it a hundred times.

On the flight deck alarms were screaming at the pilots – their own airmasks had dropped down a second before – and they were still strapping them on as the co-pilot began barking out procedures.

“Captain – power down to 45 per cent, and reduce altitude to 10,000 feet.”

“Roger.”

“Seatbelt light is activated, flaps are retracted. Sir – I have an alarm in Cargo R1 – Port Door – pressure leak.”

“Damnit – I thought they fixed those – there was a recall by the manufacturer about 2 years ago on the door seals. Nevermind – Navigator – plot an emergency course – nearest suitable airport…Carl – get on the radio – declare and emergency.”

The navigator flipped the page on the chart book, and ran his finger down the page – here – here we go…The nearest suitable airfield is in Patriot City, Empassioned Peoples.”

“Good – Carl, make the call.”

“Attention – Attention – Flight 743 Heavy out of Camden is declaring and Emergency. Air Transit Patriot City – please acknowledge. This is 743 Heavy – We have lost cabin pressure – suspect a catastrophic failure of cargo door – requesting flight path priority for emergency landing in Patriot City…”

Below decks Liet Torzo was watching his GPS. The plane had leveled at 10,000 feet allowing the team to unfasten the air tanks – but they would bring them down to leave no evidence behind. They had even resealed the cargo container – which granted would be much lighter when finally delivered to the Church of the Eunuch in Franco’s Spain…

“Okay – there’s our marker. See you all on the ground. Go-Go-Go.”

The ten men unfastened the nylon straps and poured out through the opening and fell into the darkness below.

One by one – at 1200 feet – their black parachutes opened – and they fell silently to the ground – somewhere near Inland Port, EP.

And while Able Team didn’t know it – two other teams had just arrived as well – one by stowing away on a freighter – and the second by swimming in from a mini-sub.

The brief report that arrived on Blackstones desk the next day simply said, “All the RATS are in the kitchen. None trapped.”

In Guinness Extra Cold

Malcom couldn’t help himself, “Don’t meddle in our affairs, bitch!” he said as the blood poured from her neck – her entourage, including elephants, in such shock that their reactions were delays.

He slowly took a long drag off the cigarette – an Empassioned People’s brand – and flicked it onto the chest of the dying Queen.

“Come on – Move it.” Shouted Smyth to Malcom.

The pair began to plow through the crowd – their guns tucked into their shirts – out of sight, but still accessible.

After 10 long minutes of skirting the security patrols dropping down their nets – the pair made it to the parking lot near the harbour.

“Did you drop the smoke?”

“Yeah – and the hotel room – I checked out using Empassioned Express credit card – even paid for the porn with it.”

“Good. The airport camera’s will confirm we arrived from there as well – team two switched the tapes last night – now we just disappear – I’ll drop you at the subway…Here – give me your gun – I’ll go to the foundry tonight and toss them in scrap pile – they’ll be melted down in no time.”

“Good. Think she’ll die?”

“I got her in the neck – would’ve been a clean headshot but that damned elephant trumpeted – threw me off.”

“Yeah – still – lots of blood. She’d as good as gone.”

“Yeah.”

The tranquil rose gardens of the Elias Embassy compound masked the sinister activities taking place inside. Behind several layers of sound and electronic signal proofed walls, a miniature command center had been hastily setup by the Federal Intelligence Bureau to monitor what was quickly becoming one of the world’s tourist hotspots, that is if you were a spook with diplomatic cover. In fact they were understaffed and they were relying on primarily two assets within the government, sigint was nearly impossible and the Wolfish defence network was quite sophisticated when it came to counterintelligence.

The duty officer monitored a collection of LCD screens as a more senior and more sinister man entered ‘The Zone’.

“What’s happening?”

“We haven’t heard anything yet.”

“Damn, X-Ray Alpha was supposed to check in a half hour ago.”

“Only thing we have had around here is coffee, bad coffee.”

Suddenly a phone rang; it was the dull and barely audible bleeping of the secure line. The more senior analyst frantically answered, hitting the record switch before speaking, “Desmond.” Every time he uttered his codename he cringed with embarrassment, the things his country demanded of him.

“Yes, what do you have for me today lieutenant?”

(OOC: Can you RP my informers as only you know the inner workings of Wolfish defence command?)

…Meanwhile, 60 nautical miles from Niue

Flight Operations commenced at 0600. Half an hour before sunrise, the fleet began a gentle turn into the wind blowing from the east to afford maximum lift for the pilots who would soon ride their shrieking birds of prey off the deck of HRMS Cheetah. Seen from above, odd clumps of color came together, split apart and reformed across the flight line as crewmembers in color-coded outfits raced through their tasks. Across the stern, F/A-18E and F Super Hornets began to spin up their powerful F414-GE-400 turbofan engines. Without their regular ordnance payload, they would fly lighter and faster, perfect for what Colonel Bass had in mind.

The atmosphere in the ready room had been jocular, full of the typical pilot repartee and one-upmanship. Colonel Bass had laid out the mission profile in only the sketchiest of terms. “We’ll rendezvous at 10,000 feet and then we’re going to fly formation down to 100 feet and approach the Wolfish fleet from there. Fall into single line and follow me in; it’s going to be tricky but as long as you maintain spacing you’ll be fine. Once we’re past the fleet we’ll head over Niue, circle the field and head back home. Any questions?”

At 0600 exactly, Bass felt the catapult engage his nose wheel. As the blast shield rose, he pushed his engines to full military power, saluted the bridge, and took a firm hold of the handles built into the cockpit canopy over his head. Seconds later, he was forced back into his seat as the plane blasted off the deck like a cork from a champagne bottle. Dropping his hands as he cleared the flight deck, Bass pulled the nose up and began a steep climb.

Fifteen minutes and 10000 feet later, 14 planes formed a giant V and headed southwest for the Wolfish fleet and Niue. As the ships came into view, Bass got on the radio to the standard Wolfish channel: “Hatch flight 1 to Liberty, Hatch flight 1 to Liberty, carrier overflight in progress. I repeat, carrier overflight in progress, please clear your decks.” Switching back to the Hatchibombitarian tactical channel he simply remarked, “Ok, line up. Watch your spacing and your airspeed and follow me.” before thumbing off his radio and diving for the ocean.

At 10 miles out, Bass leveled the plane off at 150 feet and lined up his nose with the Liberty flight deck. Thundering in over the flight deck he thumbed his radio back to the Wolfish channel: “Howdy, swabbies”. Abreast of the carrier island, Bass let out a maniacal laugh, pulled the stick back and went into a vertical climb away from the carrier as his flight mates followed suit.

Re-forming in a V at 5000 feet, Bass led the flight inshore as he thumbed the radio again “Hatch Flight 1 to Niue Tower, Hatch Flight 1 to Niue Tower. Commencing overflight.” Bass pushed the stick forward and dove for the airfield as his comrades once again dropped into single file and followed him down. A voice came over the radio: “Hatch Flight 1, this is Niue Tower. Bass, you sonofabitch, don’t you dare….!” A roar of engine noise drowned out the rest. Executing a perfect half-roll, Bass thundered down the runway, 40 feet off the ground, belly to the sky. Minutes later, the entire flight headed back for HRMS Cheetah. Hatchibombitar had arrived.

Pier 15 at Service road 15a, Librious, Guinness Extra Cold

In the wild, elephants will often stop at places where elephant bones are collected and caress the remains of their relatives in a curiously empathetic manner. Fondling the skulls and skeletal remains like sacred talismans, they will sometimes stand at the spot for hours or carry bones gently in their trunks, as though through tactile contact their bond is reaffirmed. Scientists do not yet have an explanation for this puzzling behavior. Laypersons, free to engage in anthropomorphism, speculate that elephants have a spiritual nature and an intelligence that is capable of both higher thought and emotion.

As Celeste fell to the ground, a curious event occurred. The trumpeting stopped abruptly and then each elephant approached the body of the stricken queen until she was completely encircled, so tightly that none of the shocked mahouts dared squeeze through. As some unobserved signal passed through the herd, each elephant bent its forelegs and dropped into a kneeling position. Like a great grey wheel with each elephant a spoke and Celeste as a hub, the street grew quiet. Then, each trunk reached out and gently touched her broken body. As her rib cage rose and fell, the sound of elephants breathing onto her in perfect synchronization sounded gently in the air. It was as though their breath of life was intended to maintain her breath of life, observers later reported.

"Well, shit." Sub-Director Phaellan stated as he faced Director Kerrik. "We've been gutted? By the State Department?"

Kerrik twirled the pen through his hand. "Unfortunately, Chancellor Fenris feels we've been too "free" with our movements, and that he should be the proud and righteous Defender of the People." Kerrik stopped the pen's motion with sudden ferocity, levelling it like a pistol. "And that means we're stuck behind red tape, when fiasco's like this happen..." he slid a paper to Phaellan. "Allens' agents pulled that about half an hour ago."

Phaellan glanced at the paper, and his face contorted into a grimace. "Lovely. The Queen of Hatchibombitar was galivanting about with an elephant troup? And got blasted?" He raised an eyebrow. "We don't get this stuff in DARPA. I've got to trade posts with Allens..."

"Keep reading. It get's better." Kerrik snorted. "We don't know the Queen's status, but keep reading."

"I don't get it." Phaellan shrugged. "Hattian customs, Empassioned Peoples cigarettes on the scene, dropped by the boys who pulled this... Was this a communist hit?"

Kerrik kicked back. "It would appear so, would it not? Our agent on the ground heard the shooting, and got himself onto the scene to see the local police cleaning up EP cigarrette packs. In the confusion, the agent trailed a suspicious man... and found a local drug ring instead of hitmen."

"Professional job?"

"Hell, yes. The place was clean, except for those cigs they found. That bothered Allens, and it bothers me. It was a perfect hit, they shot clean... but the cigarrettes... not professional at all." He shuffled his papers. "And you'll love this part. Checking files, guess who trained Empassioned Peoples's Special Forces? Hattia. Hattian was distinctly pointed out by several of the travelling troupe our agent checked with, posing as a police officer."

"Sounds like pretty circumstantial evidence." Phaellan stated.

"It is. But it's what I like to call the "Anglerfish" syndrome. You know how an Anglerfish hunts, Phaellan?"

"No, sir."

"It has a little pole, a projection from it's top, and it dangles a little bioluminecent bulb in the water in front of itself. It dangles this light out there, waving it around... other fish see this, and assume that it's small prey, and they attack it. You know what happens? The Anglerfish eats the would be hunter. It let's them convince themselves that this is prey with it's subtle but deliberate moves." Kerrik pointed the pen accusingly at the paper. "You watch, and I guarantee you we'll get more evidence like this."

"So, you think it's a lie?"

Kerrik snorted, "You've spent to much time in the lab, Phaellan. This reeks. However, Fenris will not listen to me, and I dare not argue, unless I want to see the ISA reduced to a mere puppet agency. We've worked too hard for this."

Phaellan scratched his hair. "You know, I hate this political shit, Director. My question is, who would benefit from EP being to blame? This would seem to feed into the Wolfish intimidation episodes we've been witnessing lately, as Hatchibombitar is an ally..." Phaellan thought hard. "It doesn't make sense! If EP and it's allies aren't trying to commit suicide, and you're certain they're not, then that leaves the neutral nations, or the Wolfish side. Wolfish does not need help to smash EP flat, and has plenty of reason already! Why would they move on this, and risk shattering a close alliance?"

Kerrik grinned darkly. "That leaves the neutral parties. But who, in this world, would benefit from a growing war? The more irate the Wolfish side becomes, the less profitable rebuilding EP will be, and that rules that out. In effect, we have an assassination attempt with no direct benefit. David, that worries me, it worries me a lot, and with these handcuffs Fenris has slapped on us... I need your people on alert. And get me Darius. I need to speak to him."

"I will, Director." Phaellan excused himself from the room.

Kerrik turned the TV back on, watching the growing news as he filed his report. This cannot end well.

Pier 15 at Service road 15a, Librious, Guinness Extra Cold

It took only two minutes for the first set of calls to come into the Librious emergency hotline. Within ten minutes the entire switchboard was flashing with calls from dockworkers, passer byes and ship crews.

Despite the Queens insistence that GEC not provide her with a security detail, a medical crew and Security Response Team had been waiting several blocks away in case of an emergency.

When the medical and security personnel arrived at the scene, the loyal elephants had completely encircled the woman with their bodies. The silence caused by both the spectacle and the assassination attempt was almost as unsettling for the emergency crew as the prospect of trying to move the massive pachyderms.

After pacing aimlessly for the longest fifteen seconds the head medic had ever experienced, his patience ran out and he ordered the accompanying security agents to clear a path through the animals by any means necessary.

As if they understood what was said, the elephants raised their massive frames and moved away from the body. The visibly oldest one in the group gently lifted the Queens limp body with its trunk and tusks. With a gentleness that one would think impossible from such a beast, it carried her body to the waiting medical team and placed it on the gurney before letting out a sorrow-filled bellow.

The medical team immediately whisked her to the waiting ambulance. The doctor was about to jump in to the vehicle when he called over the head of the security detail and instructed him to shoot anyone who so much as approaches the noble pachyderms. He then turned to their direction and whispered;

"I promise she will live."

GEC Corporate Medical Center, Librious.

The scene in the Emergency Room could be best described as controlled chaos with surgeons, nurses, government personnel and heavily armed security agents milling about. The attempted assassination of a foreign nobleperson has sent shockwaves through the entire region.

Rumours that security personnel have already started rounding up citizens from Empassioned Peoples for “questioning”.

The doctors finally finished clearing the operation room out when a call came through from Chairman Yretrek office.

“What is her condition?” An impatient voice asked.

“She is stable but she has lost a lot of blood. We are getting minimal brain activity and she almost flat lined a couple times during the pre-op. Our team is about to go in and remove the bullet. The operation is expected to take about 6 hours and god willing, she will make it.” The Head Surgeon was getting progressively more nervous as the conversation continued.

“Listen Doctor, your life is directly linked to hers. If she does not make it, you will not be around to make a public apology. You will never be found. The bullet is to be handed to one of our reps immediately upon extraction. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly, with your permission I would like to begin surgery.”

He never received an answer but the dial tone made his predicament crystal clear. This was going to be the most important surgery he ever conducted. And possibly his last.

The Bad Listener, somewhere off the coast of Empassioned People

Three days ago, a massive Wolfish fleet had left dock and proceeded to a military training exercise with Hatchibombitar naval forces. In accordance with standing orders, the Rusted Workhorse and the Unending Hangover departed the flotilla to shadow them. We proceeded towards the coast of Empassioned People with the signal clutter ship Court Jester.

Captain Finnion has relaxing in his cabin with his logbook when the in-ship communication system buzzed on and he was asked to come to the communication room immediately.

What the hell is happening now? Better not be another video with a man and a goat from Empassioned People’s public access network. I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that they have that crap on or that my techs watch it.

By the time Capt. Finnion had reached his destination, it seemed like the entire ship had been put in fast-forward. Analysts, computer technicians and linguists were running around holding files and maps frantically looking for somewhere to put them.

“Can somebody explain to me what why everyone looks like they are two steps away from a heart attack?” Finnion asked with growing impatience.

“We just received this signal from HQ five minutes ago. The Court Jester has been ordered to play it in constant repetition on all frequencies at maximum output.”
Replied one of the closer techs.

Before the Captain had a chance to ask for it to be shown on his console, every screen in the communication room switched to the broadcast from the signal clutter ship.

---------Transmission Begins--------

*Image fades into focus on a salt and pepper haired elderly man wearing an obsidian grey suit and black tie. On his right arm there is a black armband and he sports a GEC Spirits Inc. gold pin on his lapel.*

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the world, my name is Chairman Yretrek of Guinness Extra Cold Spirits Incorporated and I interrupt your normal television broadcasts to bring you a message of vital importance.”

* Camera switches angles *

“Earlier today there was an assassination attempt against Queen Celeste of Hatchibombitar who was visiting Guinness Extra Cold with her Royal Mahouts on a special tour of our nation.”

*Switch to stock footage of Queen Celeste performing with her Mahouts.*

“A quick response from our emergency medical services stabilized her condition and transported her to one of our finest medical clinics for surgery. After a gruelling six hour operation, doctors report that she is in stable condition.”

* Camera Switches angles *

“This heinous attack, which is an affront to the very decency inherent in humankind has been linked to the violent and despotic nation of Empassioned Peoples. Evidence found at the scene, video footage from the airport and financial records recovered from a nearby hotel clearly indicate their involvement in this cowardly act.”

“In response to this violation of GEC sovereignty and national security, all citizens of Empassioned People, their families and business partners have been detained by Corporate Security Forces for questioning. Early testimonies from certain suspect individuals have confirmed Empassioned Peoples participation in this plan as well as indicating the involvement of other supposedly neutral nations.”

“We will not sit idly by and watch our nation become a victim in their dirty war. All military forces have been placed on heightened alert and internal security forces have begun operations to rid our nation of all external covert activities and operatives.”

“I would like to take this opportunity to pass on the prayers and wishes of all GEC citizens to their brethren in Hatchibomobitar. In your moment of pain and anguish, you do not stand alone.”

* Cue montage of images of Queen Celeste accompanied by music from composer James Horner *

“We ask the world to stand with us and condemn this atrocious act of barbarity and savagery. Empassioned People must pay for their crimes and they must pay now!”

* Camera Fades onto symbol of GEC Spirits Inc. before fading to black *

----------------------Transmission Ends------------------------

“Well that was something else, now get it off our screens.”

“Wait sir, there is a high-band coded message at the end for all SIGINT CASF forces.”

“Put it on then.”

-------------------Transmission begins--------------------

* Camera opens quickly on Chairman Yretrek *

“Listen people, we have been caught with our pants down on this one. I don’t care what you have to do but we are going to find out who did this and we are going to hang them with their own intestines from our towers. From what we have gotten from the interrogation sessions is that there are other nations involved in this besides EP. We will advice you when we have something confirmed.”

“All SIGINT ships in the EP region are to begin constant and dedicated signal searches. You are looking for the frequency bands that are accompanying this message. Any confirmed or even suspected reception is to be immediately reported to your local Command HQ.”

“I have instructed all signal cutter ships to begin propaganda saturation of all countries in the region and all of EP’s allies. By the end of the week, there shouldn’t be country that isn’t screaming for their blood.”

“Each of you are going to receive specific orders at the end of this message, you are to follow them to the letter. This is the greatest crisis to face us in a while and god dammit we are going to show them what it means to mess with GEC.”

“Good luck and God Speed.”

-----------------Transmission Ends-------------------------

“Orders coming in Sir.”

“What are they?”

“We are to proceed to approximately 50 kilometers off the coast of EP and wait for rendezvous with a Dual carriage DDS submarine.”

“Well, lets not disappoint the Chairman.”

Wolfish Presidential Palace

That’s three times today they have come around with a signal detector, they must have picked up something, thought James McGivvin, I better wait until nightfall before I make my next transmission.

It had been three days since members of the military under the command of General Blackstone had captured him along with the rest of the Presidents staff.

Three days since the government of Wolfish was dissolved by one man on a mission to reclaim glory stolen from him by insects and water.

Three days since he last left the Presidential complex and went home to sleep in his own bed.

He wondered how his fish were doing.

Unlike most of the staff placed under marine guard, James was relaxed and seemingly unconcerned with the events transpiring around him. He knew his mission and more importantly, he knew how to stay alive.

One of the benefits to being a lowly maintenance worker, no one pays attention to me, mussed James, they even let me get a couple books to read.

Between reading and napping, James had noticed a regular routine beginning to develop between his captors and the hostages.

Everyday, twice a day, several armed marines would enter the room and collect the President. They would then escort him out of the room to his office where there was a television camera and microphone. He would then be given a script and told to read it. He of course refused and claimed that this entire event was illegal and that heads would role when the people found out.

For his troubles, they would push him around a bit and threaten him. Inevitably, one of the marines would re-enter the holding room and grab some secretary or aide. She would be brought into the teleconference room and the president would be given a choice, read the speech or the hostage is killed before him. Sometimes he would read the speech, other times he wouldn’t.

James knew this because when the President refused to read the speech, James would be the next one brought into the room. Not as a hostage but to clean up the remains of one. He noticed the last time he was soaking up an assistant finance aide that not all the speeches were being televised; some were being recorded for later. It didn’t matter to James really, he was there to watch and report and that was exactly what he was going to do.

He had overheard several of the staff members plotting to try and escape the complex. It was expected that some hothead was going to try and be a hero; James wanted no part of a suicide mission. In preparation, one of the books James had asked for had special pages inserted into the binding. These pages were condensed nutrient wafers, which if used correctly, could sustain a man for about a week. When the inevitable escape attempt occurred, those that remained would most likely be punished by having their food withheld.

When one of the guards had is back turned to James to scold a crying secretary, James quietly ripped a piece from the introduction page of “Existential Thought Development in Klonor” and placed it in his mouth.

“Not bad", James whispered to himself, “Not bad at all.”

Off the coast of GEC

The two assassins swam out – carefully checking their GPS receiver every couple minutes.

“It should be right about here,” said the one – only barely visible in the faint moonlight.

“Right. I’ll go down first.”

The second man kicked hard and dove under – thirty long second past before he resurfaced – a yellow cord in his hand. “Found it.”

“Good – lets give it a tug.”

The two pulled hard on the rope – finally it gave – releasing a package that had been secured to the ocean floor.

Bubbles began to rise around the men – finally a small black inflatable boat sprung to the surface – lashed to it a watertight bag containing two large batteries and a small electric motor.

“Get it hooked up – I’ll break the transmitter out.”

With the two working together to assemble the “escape pack” it was only minutes before they were motoring away from the distant lights of GEC.

“David to Jezebel – David to Jezebel, do you copy?”

“David – we have you five-by-five.”

“Copy Jezebel. 15 minutes to point.”

“Affirmative David – we just picked you up on scope. Weather is clear.”

“Copy Jezebel. David out.”

With that, he stowed the radio, and leaned back while the other man steered the boat through the dark waters.

15 minutes later he cut the motor and the two waited in silence.

Then, without warning the sea around the two began to rise – first almost unnoticeably – then water began to break around them as a submarine rose slowly from the depths.

Once surface, the deck hatch opened and 3 crew men came out.

“Okay – move it – tie this cider block to that boat – slit it open and sink it.”

“Aye Sir.”

The commander turned to the two killers. Lets get you boys on board and home. We’re in GEC territorial waters – so I’d rather not hang around too long if that’s alright with you – besides – this fresh air is giving me hives.”

With that the assassins and commander went below, while the two crewmen sunk the small boat and motor – keeping only the encrypted radio.

As it sunk below the waves – one young sailor noted the manufacturers stamp on the side, “Made of New Materials only – Empassioned Peoples Bureau of Business Affairs”.

The two dashed back to the hatch, as the sub began quickly sinking below the waves.

Minutes later she would set a direct course for Empassioned Peoples – though in a couple days – once under the busy sea lanes leading to and from the Pacific region, she’d turn and head for Wolfhair Island naval base.

The aircraft looked like the spawn of the XB-70, SR-71, and F-117. And they'd be right. Seeing potential in the XB-70 design, the UCSNE went deep black to make a smaller and stealthier aircraft. The "Baby Valkyrie" was official codenamed "Geist", with no designator to reveal it's purpose. The truth was, nobody was really sure if the Geist specifically did anything. It could drop bombs, launch missiles, command UCAVs, and run hi-speed recce. Which it was about to do now. A "Mini Keyhole" sensor/recconissance suite was installed in the nose, and in the bay were the EW "Screamer" weapons, along with 6 AIM-98 "Coffin Nail" missiles. The black aircraft now rolled from it's underground lair to the elevator that would bring it up to the hangars above.

Major Jake Clavin stood on that huge elevator, looking at his command. 2 others stood behind him, all with their helmets on. They were breathing pure oxygen for the past 24 hours, flushing out nitrogen to prevent the "bends" from their descent from high altitude. Today was just a test flight, but with his clearance, Clavin new that there was some serious trouble brewing in Wolfish. From what he'd seen, it was a nice case of clusterf*ck in the making. Wolfish's economy hits the crapper, TEP floods them with grain, Wolfish and Hatchitibombar stage wargames a little too close to Niue, Hatch's Queen is killed and TEP cigs are found in the area. He'd already recieved two OPLANs, "Swift Eye" Orange 1 and Orange 2. It was one of the more sensitive OPLANs, Red involving god knows what. He pushed it out of his mind as the elevator clanked to a stop, and the crew clambered up onto a ladder of the Geist. After an extensive preflight check, the 6 engines of the Geist began to spool up, and the aircraft lurched forward. A quick check from SPACOM ensured none of the known satellites were passing, and the aircraft settled on the runway. The aircraft started off slowly, and shot into the night sky.

"Moving up on Objective Alpha-Zero-One, check ARC, check payload."
"ARC checked, payload checked. Ready. Eyes are open. ETA to target 3 minutes."
"Confirmed, entering radar area, not in active search mode. We're clear. Activate Redeye, set pattern Bravo."
The men looked like spacemen in their positions as the Geist rocketed at Mach 2 around 60,000 feet up. A few switches were flicked, and the IR sensors worked with the computer to detect incoming LIDAR pulses.
"Redeye mode Bravo active, active LIDAR scans in the area are too far out to be effective. Continue procedure."
"We are in effective range for Eyes, begin recording."
In the underwing pods and nose, the cameras and sensors began snapping satellite-quality photos and performing detailed sensor scans on the mock targets. A few minutes later, the process was done, and the aircraft began it's turn.
"Attention, two F-109 Delta variants 50 miles and approaching out of the clouds. Redeye shows we're being painted."
"Damn, ready payload."
"Payload ready."
"Engage."
"Confirmed, engaging with two AIM-Niner-Eight."
The outer bays breifly opened, and in the simulations two AIM-98 icons leapt onto the screens. The computers for the excersise analyzed the evasion and decoy attempts by the two fighters, and confirmed them destroyed.
"Both fighters are Charlie-Kilo, repeat, Charlie Kilo. Dammit, that was way too close."
Clavin considered the truth of this as he thought back to the two OPLAN's sitting in that vault at his officer.

The nation of Mavenu sends flowers to the nations of Hatchibombitar (via GEC and HB) in support of Queen Celeste during her time in the hospital.

aka, tag

Two days prior, north of Niue

When the Hatchibombitarian fleet closed within 100 nautical miles of Niue, the two submarines silently peeled off and turned back north. Their Wolfish counterparts would be responsible for fleet security from that point forward, and after all how much security was needed for routine, scheduled war games? HRMS Squid and HRMS Eel headed directly for home, their mission to escort the support vessels without which no modern fleet can operate. This would be their ongoing role until the completion of the Niue exercises, or until other boats were detailed to rotate in their place.

At dawn on the third day, 150 kilometers off the southeastern coast of Wolfish, a convoy formed. Eel and Squid took the opportunity to surface and let crewmembers, in small groups, walk the deck or ascend to the bridge on the sail to observe the excitement. From their own fleet there were the following ships:

1 - T-AO Underway Replenishment Oiler
1 - T-AOE Fast Combat Support Ship
1 - T-AKE Advanced Auxiliary Dry Cargo Ship
1 - T-AK Gunnery Sgt. Fred W. Stockham Class Maritime Prepositioning Ship
1 - T-AGOS Ocean Surveillance Ship
1 - AS Submarine Tender http://www.chinfo.navy.mil/navpalib/factfile/ships/ship-as.html
1 - T-AVB Aviation logistics Ship

Wolfish had sent more ships, befitting the number of ships deployed for the exercises.

2 - T-AO Underway Replenishment Oilers
3 - T-AOE Fast Combat Support Ships
2 - T-AKE Advanced Auxiliary Dry Cargo Ships
2 - T-AK Gunnery Sgt. Fred W. Stockham Class Maritime Prepositioning Ships
1 - AS Submarine Tender
2 - T-AVB Aviation logistics Ships
4 - High-Speed Vessel – HSV Mine Warfare Command and Support Ship

By noon, positioning and spacing were established, Eel and Squid slipped silently below the waves (after confirming that all hands were in fact safely belowdecks), and the convoy headed south for Niue.

Bump

Ankhus City: Private residence of General Salvatore “Sally” Clayton

Clayton was again on his treadmill when the call came. The television was blaring an infomercial for an “Amazing Hand-Hammered Wok” and Clayton had made up his mind to buy one for his sister. As he grabbed the phone, it rang. “Clayton” he barked. “Who? Who? Hang on..” he muted the television while continuing to pound along the treadmill. “All right, that’s better now. Who’s calling? … From Guinness Extra Cold? … Yeah, put him through, Celes- I mean the Queen must not have gotten there yet. … Yes sir, this is General Clayton. … No sir, you’re the first call this morning. … No sir, haven’t turned on the news. … No, I’m not sitting down, what’s the problem?” Clayton’s pace slowed, his posture sagged, and his face began to drain of color. “Is she alive? … Where is she now? ….May I have your direct line, Sir?….Yes, thank you… Yes.” Clayton dropped the phone and started vacantly at the muted television for several moments.


3 Hours later: Royal Palace, City of Cornelius

Clayton sat at the head of the table, cabinet ministers arrayed around him. “She’s alive, and she’s in surgery. Hilda left an hour ago, I sent her in the Air Force II and she should be on the ground in another hour. She’ll stay until it’s time to come back…” His voice trailed off. “We don’t know who did this, so we have to assume that it could be anything or anyone. I’m canceling all military leave as of this moment. I want every harbor and airport watched, and we’re going to need every hand available to do that. For now, I’ll keep the war games in Niue going, we’ve invested a lot in this venture and Wolfish needs our support. James,” he said turning to the press secretary, ”we’re going to have to make a statement, and I want the entire cabinet to do it as one. Can you arrange that for an hour from now? Listen everyone, we’re going to have to deal with all kinds of rumors and speculation and we need to speak with one voice.”

A tall man at the back of the room cleared his throat, “Sally, we all know what Her Majesty means to you, and we know you have her full trust. You have ours, too. We’ll get through this together, but for now, we expect you to lead.” Clayton smiled at his old friend the Defense Minister, “Thanks, Obadiah, I’ll do my best. All right, one hour from now in the briefing room. Let’s try and get a handle on this!”

“I don’t believe it,” the PL was incredulous. Standing mouth agape he studied the reports again. Commonwealth citizens being detained, international leaders beginning to bring critical glances upon his trade policies and The CEP’s involvement in Celeste’s death, and of course the ever lingering large scale war game that was being partaken of right next door.
“Okay, we need to compose some sort of statement on this, it’s going real bad for us here. Damning evidence and the whole lot. What we need is to calm some people down, offer condolences and what have you. Send some flowers over to the Queen’s room, attach a card saying … ‘We sympathize for your predicament and please know that the Common Wealth of Empassioned Peoples, although wholly uninvolved in this incident, offer any services we can to assist you in this crisis.” The PL pulled at his collar as his aid gave him a look after the dictation. “What?”

*Wolfish Defense Command*

The aide ran into the room and turned on the TV, “General the Queen of Hatchibombitar has just been shot,” he said excitedly.

Blackstone tried to look shocked as the newscast ran pictures of the scene – of course there was nothing to see – but for some reason news people seem more credible when they are “on location.”

“Thank you – that’ll be all. I have a call to make.”

“Yes Sir,” the aide replied – slightly sullen at having been dismissed so soon, with so little praise.

“Kate – get me General Clayton in Hatchibombitar,” he hung up and waited for Kate to tell him to pick up.

He leaned back and lit his cigar. This was perfect. It couldn’t be any better.

“Sir – line one.”

“Sally? Daniel Blackstone. Sally – I just got the news – yeah, saw it on TV. Sally – President Todler asked me to call – he knows we’re friends – if there is anything we can do….I’m going to have some assets look into it – perhaps we could designate a process to share information….Good – Have your people call Major Thom Yeo – he’s one of my best. General…we’ll get to the bottom of this. I promise you that. She’s always been a friend of our nation. We’ll talk soon.”

“Kate – I’ll want to make that same call later tonight – remind me will you?”

“Of course General.”

*En Route to Niue, Wolfish Fleet*

“Here comes another one – HANG ON”

The guided missile Frigate Excalibur rose up out of the water – its bow cutting through the water as it seemed to pull the warship up – nearly to the vertical – before hanging perilously on the top of the wave – then – finally tipping over the edge, and racing down the backend of the swell.

“XO – keep us head on – a degree off and we’ll be eating sand for breakfast,” bellowed the Captain over the sounds of the storm.

“Aye Sir. Helmsman – steady the boat.”

The 20-year-old at the helm of the ship rolled his eyes, but simply replied, “Aye Sir – steadying the boat,” as he braced for the next big one.

In the combat information centre, radar operator Munich was trying to catch a break – he knew the rest of the fleet was out there – somewhere – but exactly where was anyone’s guess at the moment. The radar tower was below the waves 70 percent of the time in this kind of sea – and if you calculated in the amount of time the other ships were hidden behind swells while he was on top…the odds of seeing the others was slim.

“BRIDGE CONTACT – DEAD AHEAD,” he screamed into his headset as the radar beam made contact with metal – and lots of it. “SOUND COLLISION – ITS ONE OF THE CRUISERS – 80 METRES OUT.”

The klaxons sounded collision as the Captain orders the ship hard to starboard to miss the much larger ship.

“She can’t see us, Captain,” cried the XO, peering into the night through his spotters scope, as the frigate began her slow turn – the large shape barely visible through the gale.

Another wave brought the cruiser into clearer view as it lifted it up above and to port the frigate as it caught a wave at the wrong angle – “SHE’S COMING!” called the forward watch over his radio as she tried to blink the salt out of her eyes and look to port to see the massive grey mass ride the wave.

“FLANK SPEED.”

“Aye Captain – Full Ahead.”

It was a race – but the scene was already set by the time the wave hit – the cruiser was riding down a mountain sized wave, while the frigate was trying to motor up one.

The violent impact shook the vessel to its very seams.
In the engine room water began to pour in seemingly from every rivet and weld at the same time. Emergency bulkheads began to close as klaxons and alarms sounded.

“ENGINE ROOM TO BRIDGE – WE HAVE SEVERE HULL DAMAGE – ENGINES ARE FLOODED.”

The Chief Engineer looked around – wondering what else to tell the bridge – but the water was coming in too quick – it rose past his knees and wasn’t slowing.

“BRIDGE – ENGINE ROOM ABANDONED.”

The “bridge phone” was dropped as he began to slog through the water – trying to reach the bulkhead.

“EVERYONE OUT. SEAL IT UP.”

But not everyone was out – Mechanics Mate Todler lay stunned – his legs broken by the impact – and his head ringing from hitting something or other on the way down.

The Chief scanned the room quickly – smoke was rising from the engines as sea water hit red hot engine parts.

He slipped through the doorway – checking one last time – and swung the heavy door shut, turning the large wheel to seal it tight against the building wall of water on the other side.

Back on the bridge, the Captain was trying to maintain a sense of control.

“Damage Report, XO,” he said calmly.

“Captain. Engine Room is off the air. Severe flooding and a hull breach have cut power – we are adrift – Helm is not responding. Medics report multiple serious injuries, primarily in the stern decks. Forward watch reports the cruiser cut to port and is clear of us.”

“Very good. Have Weapons secure the nukes – and destruct the “package”. Once complete call all hands to the upper decks. Mr. Richard,” he said to the radio operator, “Notify the Carrier that we are taking on water and are preparing to abandon ship.”

“Aye Sir,” said Richards as he swung his headset into place, “Thorson – this is Excalibur – we have collided with one of our cruisers – are heavily damaged, and are taking on water. Engines are down – Helm is down. Repeat – Thorson, this is Excalibur – we are damaged and are preparing to abandon ship. Over.”

“Excalibur – this is SAR Command, Thorson. Copy last transmission. Will attempt rescue as soon as weather breaks – flight operations are impossible. Ensure crew is in their survival suits, prior to leaving the ship. Over.”

“Copy Thorson. This is Excalibur – we have destroyed our packages. The ship is secure Thorson. Just make sure you pick us up ASAP – we know how lazy you guys are. Over.”

“Copy that Excalibur – Packages are destroyed. You just keep your head above water and we’ll see you in the morning. Good Luck Excalibur. Thorson Out.”

“Sir SAR Command has been notified.”

“Very well. Give me the mic son.” The young radio man handed over the microphone to the Captain, and flicked on the intercom.

“All Hands. This is the Captain. Prepare to abandon ship. All hands are to suit up in their survival suit and meet in their designated areas. We have some time people – she’s going down, but not that quick.”

With that pronouncement the ship – having a mind of its own – took a wave almost broadside – plunging the starboard rail temporarily under water – before the ship shook herself free of the swirl and righted.

The Captain looked at the XO and raised his eyebrows meaningfully. The XO just nodded.

The two men went to the locked cabinet behind the map locker and opened it up. A large keypad stood ready to accept their command.

First the Captain typed in his code - *5474321 – then the XO - *2539529

The small LCD panel began scrolling text, “Clean Sweep Underway. 30 Seconds to complete.”

With that, small popping sounds were heard throughout the ship, as pre-positioned detonators fired, burning holes in circuit boards, memory chips, and other sensitive devices, turning the once proud warship into a floating can – unable to operator or give up Wolfish secrets.

Within minutes the crew – or most of it – were assembled and carefully boarded the round escape pods – each one holding 30 people, supplies and medical kits. The doors were sealed, and the levels pulled to launch them into the boiling water.

It would be a long 11 hours before the rescues could begin – but with the aid of the GPS locators on board each pod – they were collected by the Thorson’s helo fleet without much delay.

When the Captain learned that the death toil reached 12 sailors – men and women he had served with for upwards of two years – he cried. Then he saw the name Todler, and he knew how much worse this sinking had been.

*Downtown Venstill, Wolfish*

It started slowly enough – first one person tried – then another. Before long the crowd overflowed the sidewalk, and began filling the street.

A similar scene was beginning one block over – but there a 40ish man in a security guards uniform tried to explain – tried to calm the crowd…but he only made it worse.

“Folks – you’re money is here – I – I mean not here – but its coming – the – the armoured truck is just late. That’s all.”
“I don’t give a frig about the truck – I’ve got two thousand dollars in this bank, and I want it out.”

“Sir – you can use your credit car…” the words hadn’t escaped his mouth when the angry man punched him in the face.

“DON’T YOU TELL ME WHAT I CAN OR CANNOT DO YOU LITTLE PUKE!” screamed the man – standing overtop of the bleeding guard.

The security guard instinctively reached for his Glock 31 on his hip.

“Don’t you dare,” said the man as he kicked the guard in the side of the head, knocking him senseless. He bent over and pulled the .357 and the baton from the unconscious guard's belt.

He looked down at the weapons in his hand – next to the bleeding guard – then, finally up at the gathering crowd – their faced please…pleased to finally see something – anything – happen to help them overcome their helplessness in the face of a worsening situation.

Angry man saw it – felt the crowd’s mood shift – he climbed on top of a nearby mailbox, “PEOPLE – Listen to me,” he raised his hands to silence the swelling crowd, but the image was one of revolution – weapons raised in protest – across the street a newspaper man began snapping pictures.

“The bank says it has no money – the government says it has no money – they say it’s the fault of some flooding and some bugs – but I say something else is going on. I say their screwing us, while they sit high in their towers of steel and glass – looking down – looking down on the people,” he pretty much spat the final word. “What do they care if we loose our jobs? What do they care if we feed our families? Or if we pay our bills? All they care about is that we do their bidding – that we bow to the rulers of this godforsaken country.” By now the group from the other closed bank had merged on the street in front of the angry man.

“Well. Well I say ENOUGH.” The crowd cheered, as the guard rolled over and tried to rise. Angry man glanced at him and pointed the baton.

“This – this is what they do when we want to make our OWN decisions. This,” he pointed again, “This is a symbol of our oppression. All of this,” he waved the baton at the surrounding skyscrapers. “This is how they beat us down – take away our homes – take away our bread – TAKE AWAY OUR SOULS.”

The crowd was now at fevered pitch – Angry Man, feeding on their emotion, leapt from the mailbox and delivered a massive blow to the head of the guard who had just made it to his feet.

His body crumpled under the blow, as his ears began to leak fluid onto the sidewalk.

“ARE WE GOING TO TAKE IT?”

The crowd answered with a roar….and the newspaper man looked for a way out of the crowd.

*Wolfish Defense Command*

The aide was not so eager to give this news to the General.

“Sir – we’ve lost a frigate en route to Niue. Got swamped in a storm or something – we’re having trouble communicating with the fleet – but we’re trying to route the sat uplink through Sirik Island. We should have something soon – for now we know we’re short one frigate.”

Blackstone leaned back in the chair and dismissed the aide – perhaps he could use this – perhaps this would be the final straw. Perhaps….

[edit for spelling]

(This televised broadcast appeared on the desks of every media outlet world wide and was mandatory broadcasting for CEP stations.)

The PL appeared on the screen on the roof of the capital building where he had made so many addresses before. But this one was different, the citizens could tell because he was wearing his bandana. This red bandana with a white flowered outline had been worn by the PL before he held the office, the bandana was his signature marking as a rebel against the old monarchy. Now tattered and bloodstained the piece of cloth looked out of place against the upscale suit, the guerrilla fatigues having long since left the daily attire of the PL. His face ashen and his internal monologue tumultuous the PL began to speak.

“I the leader of this glorious Commonwealth and voice of the proletariat greet you good morning. I come to you with a heavy heart today as we have been accused of a grievous wrong doing which I assure you we had absolutely no part of. It has been said that a black operation financed by our government was the cause of injury to the queen of Hatchibombitar, I assure you this was not the case. I would like to officially extend the sympathies of the Commonwealth to the great nation of Hatchibombitar, we wish her majesty a speedy recovery.

This aside I’d like to take this opportunity to warn Commonwealth citizens to avoid travel to both Hatchibombitar and Guinness Extra Cold as there are some lingering hostilities there due to this misunderstanding. On this topic I request the GEC to please release detained citizens of the CEP, we can discuss each case individual through our diplomatic corps.

I wish you all good day and good life.”

*[end signal]*

Aboard HRMS Stalwart - T-AGOS Ocean Surveillance Ship

It was a sound the young operator had never heard live, only on training tapes in school. The slow popping of rivets, and the agonizing shriek of rending metal as Excalibur began her last, terrible voyage to the bottom of the sea would replay in Jones’ mind long after the headphones had gone silent. By that time, Captain Davies had joined him at the main acoustical analysis station and had donned a second set of headphones. Both men sat quietly, then Davies abruptly removed the headphones, turned on his heel and vanished through the hatchway, pausing only to tell Jones to listen carefully for any tapping or knocking from trapped survivors. When he reached the bridge, Davies called Admiral Clark on HRMS Badger. “Sir, it was Excalibur… I listened to her go down… We’ll keep listening, but with the speed she went and the depth here, I can’ imagine there’s any survivors… Very good sir, Davies out.”

Aboard HRMS Badger: Combat and Command Information Center

Admiral Clark slumped in his leather chair at the head of the room as he held a radiophone to his ear. “Admiral Gryphon, my condolences on your loss, Sir; is there anything we can do to help? … Yes, we caught it on tape aboard Stalwart … Sir, my fleet is your disposal, you need only ask… Yes, I understand completely …All right, we’ll stay on station…Good night, sir, and God bless the Wolfish Navy” Hanging up the phone, he gazed reflectively at the ceiling, then shook his head once and closed his eyes.

OOC: to be continued

The Rusted Workhorse, tailing 40 kilometres from BG-10

----Multiple signals detected----

----Locating source----

----Correlating GPS data----

----Identifying Transmissions----

----Reporting Data----

“Sir, we have picked up about a dozen distress signals coming from Grid 13-45-67. They are on the Wolfish’s Emergency Naval Code. It’s the same place from where we got that tight-band transmission about a half-an-hour ago.”

The violent storm had made staring at a computer screen for the past three hours, without throwing up, a Herculean task.

Corporal Grent had spent the day, and the better part of the past week covered in sea salt and sweat. The Captain was taking them in a zigzag pattern to cover their true mission objective from over-curious Wolfish sensor operators. This made monitoring their transmissions quite difficult as inter-ship communications had a limited range before they became nothing but unintelligible static.

To assist in this, the computerized frequency shifter constantly searched all known bands to identify signals while the sonar located and amplified incoming non-natural sounds. An abnormal sonar emission triggered the latter device and cut into Grent’s headphones.

“Wait, I’m getting another something else.” The next thing that came from the technician’s mouth was so foul that Caligula would have blushed.

“My ****ing ears. Damn **********ing explosive charges! (This little diddy came afterwards)

The quick series of explosives went unheard by the other operators along the computer terminal bank so their looks of shock were expected. The corporal was not in the mood to explain his expletive filled diatribe and was about to tell his compatriots what he thought about their inquisitive looks when all hell broke loose.

“A Wolfish Destroyer has pinned us, a Wolfish Destroyer has pinned us.” Screamed the Intercom.

“Shut Down, Shut Down.” The CO who Grent had been reporting to repeated as he ran down the isle.

All the computer terminals went black as the eerie silence that accompanies moments of extreme tension filled the cabin. The only screen that was left on displayed a rough diagram of the surrounding ocean and a single intermittent line directed at the Rusty Workhorse from a large conical object about a hundred clicks away.

All eyes in room were frozen to the scream waiting for the blue flashing line to change its colour and intensity. If it disappeared then they would be in the clear, if it went red and started screaming…they would have just enough time on this plane of existence to gulp and blink one last time.

An eternity passed as the sound of sweat dripping off trembling cheeks and a light beeping noise filled the cavernous SIGINT section.

Just as the last crewman finished reciting his silent prayer to whatever god he or she worshipped, the line disappeared from the screen.

The resounding release of breath that comes with such relief could have blown down the walls of Jericho. Two minutes more in the darkness to ensure that they would not be pinged again and then the computer screens came back on one by one.

Corporal Grent turned back to his terminal just as another signal limping from the crash area disappeared off his screen, but he didn’t care right now. All he wanted to do was get a cigarette and try and stop himself from shaking.

The Bad Listener, 20 kilometres of the Coast of Empassioned Peoples

“Hey Bob, come take a look at this King Crab I just caught. It must be two feet across.”

George Stambiolos was really starting to get into this fishing thing. He never though that he would be in the middle of nowhere, dressed in rubber from head to toe and chewing tobacco and salt water when he graduated with his PhD computer programming from GEC Technical.

“Can’t right now Georgy, got something big in the sights.”

Bob Gomez was another one of the tech geeks who had become comfortable on the ocean after Captain Finnion had implemented the fishermen-training program. He liked the smell of the sea and he liked the ability to be alone with his thoughts.

With George and himself being assigned to the front of the ship, he finally got a chance to play with the harpoon gun that had fascinated him since he boarded the Bad Listener some three weeks past.

He knew the Captain had forbidden them to use it as they had no room to bring on and process a whale carcass, but he just had to feel how the gun felt in his hands. It was in this forbidden moment that a large black object had almost magically appeared in its scope.

The urge was too great for Bob. He lined up the harpoon and fired a shot into what he thought was the belly of the beast.

The metal spike flew from the gun at an incredible speed and rushed towards its target.

Closer…closer…closer…closer…CLANG

Clang!?!, thought Bob, That can’t be good...

GTOS Venture, 20.2 Kilometres off the Coast of Empassioned Peoples

“Did they just fire on us?”

Unfortunately, the Skipper was not going to get any answers from his dumbfounded bridge crew at that moment.

“Don’t just sit there collecting flies. We have been fired upon, prepare our response!”

Despite not having a clue as to what had just transpired, the crew knew enough not to appear incompetent in front Captain Tokugawa.

Ensigns brought up targeting solutions on the Bad Listener, seaman braced themselves for combat stations, CO’s made sure that there stations were on-line and operation and the Special Operations teams in the DDS modules prepared for emergency capsule separation.

“Captain, we have Captain Finnion on the line.”

Tokugawa grabbed the receiver from the young communications officer and took a deep calm breath before inquiring as to the recent event.

“Have you gone completely insane, Finnion!!! Give me one good reason I should not send your salt incrusted brain to the bottom of the ocean.”

“My apologies Captain Tokugawa, we had a small mishap with our harpoon gun.”

“Mishap!?! There is a three foot metal spear sticking out of my sub connected by a rope to your ship and you call that a mishap?”

Captain Tokugawa was then suddenly handed a piece of paper by his EO who quickly returned to the safety of his station across the bridge.

“Make that a three foot metal spear that has attached Seaman Polowski’s leg to my observation deck!”

“Listen Tokugawa, we could spend all day deciding who was at fault but we have something more important to do.”

“Deciding who is at fault?? YOU HARPOONED ONE OF MY CREWMEMBERS!”

“Captain, please, we are both reasonable men working for the same corporation. Now do you have the retrieval force with you?”

“…yes I do…” replied Tokugawa as he grinded his teeth loudly.

“Good, deploy them as soon as you get within 5 miles of the target beachhead. We have received confirmation from the Acquisitions team that they will make it on schedule. We will disconnect the harpoon rope so that you may proceed with your mission. Bad Listener out.”

Tokugawa placed the receiver back into its hold and whispered in a harsh and hatred filled voice, “I am going to sick that foul smelling barge one of these days and gut Finnion with a cold spoon.”

Regaining his composure, “Ensign, prepare the Venture for dive and please have someone remove Seaman Poloski from the exterior of the ship.”

After some work with a butane torch and a bottle of whiskey, the GTOS Venture submerged itself beneath the waves and silently worked its way toward Empassioned Peoples.

Royal Palace, City of Cornelius

The television was on in Clayton’s office, another live report from embassy row. The crowd outside the Empassioned Peoples embassy had begun forming after the news from Guinness Extra Cold had broken in the early evening. By morning, it had swelled into the hundreds and riot police had been dispatched to enforce crowd control, though there were no indications of any unrest. Instead, the people were largely silent, opting to face the embassy with grim faces while holding aloft a massive but crudely constructed black banner that simply read “J’accuse!” in stark white letters. Those who could not reach the banner held aloft signs bearing photographs of Queen Celeste, left over from her coronation jubilee. Neither interviews nor discreet intelligence gathering had revealed any leadership; the gathering appeared to be a genuinely spontaneous outpouring of concern by ordinary citizens, who now numbered in the thousands. Most of the police on duty, having ascertained that the crowd was not yet violent, had turned their backs to the crowd and now also faced the embassy.

Clayton turned away from the television: “Is he still here?” He had summoned the Ambassador from Empassioned Peoples several hours ago, then left him sitting in a drafty antechamber to cool his heels. “Send him in”. The ambassador stepped through the doorway moments later, tight-faced with anger at the humiliation he had suffered. Stiffly, he began the recitation he had practiced repeatedly while waiting: “General Clayton, I wish to convey the sympathies of my government and people, and to assure you that we had no – “ “Stow it!” barked Clayton. “Don’t you dare waste my time with your diplomat doubletalk! You sat in this building just days ago and Her Majesty warned you about your conduct in Wolfish. Now she’s lying in a coma in a foreign hospital and you have the unmitigated gall to waltz in here and protest you don’t know anything about it? Have you watched the news, Mr. Ambassador? Your guys did it! By God I ought to kill you myself but Pom here…” Clayton gestured to the Foreign Minister, Pom Palavi IV, who sat in a corner of the room “says I cant. He says I have to protect you, make sure an angry mob doesn’t get you. Well, I know one way to do that. Mr. Ambassador, you are under arrest for crimes against the people of Hatchibombitar. You have diplomatic immunity, so you will by transported under armed guard to your embassy, where you and all of your staff will remain until transport out of the country will can be arranged. Every last one of you is persona non grata of this moment. Frankly, we may not get to it for a long time; we’re kind of busy around here, so you may consider yourself under house arrest in the embassy until further notice. Guard, take the ambassador back to his compound, and feel free to shoot him if acts suspiciously.”

When the ambassador had left the room, Clayton turned to Palavi: “You can notify our ambassador and all our staff in Empassioned Peoples that they are free to return home if they want, I won’t ask them to stay under the circumstances. Do we still have a team in place in the embassy?” Palavi smiled at Clayton “Sally, you would have made a fine diplomat, except for that whole diplomatic language bother. I’ll take care of our overseas staff. There’s still a full platoon on hand, working as internal security but they’re fully cross-trained in Special Operations. Have you heard anything about Her Majesty’s condition?” Clayton let a small smile cross his face as he pondered the reply from Palavi. They had been friends since Mahout training in high school and had supported and commiserated with each other for many years since. “She’s still in a coma, but her condition does not seem to be worsening or improving. I wish we could get her home, but they say it’s not safe to move her. Anyway, we have work to do. Let me know what happens with our diplomatic staff.”

Clayton had a stack of message slips on his desk, but neither the time nor the inclination to address them. One did catch his eye, a note that the nation of Mavenu had sent flowers. Summoning an aide, he dictated a short note of thanks before reaching for the phone to make a series of calls. The first call was to the army barracks outside of town. “Captain Banks, it’s General Clayton. I want a company of soldiers ringing the Empassioned Peoples embassy and I want them facing inward. No one goes in our out of that compound without my express consent, got that? Take an Abrams and park it in the driveway, that ought to discourage anyone wanting to go out for a stroll.”

Clayton didn’t want to admit it, but he was worried. Economic attacks on a beloved ally, an attempted assassination on his queen, things were worrisome and to make it worse, he had war games going on with Wolfish at Niue, a location not far from this new enemy. Scratching his head, he put in a quick call to the Minister of Defense. “Obadiah, I don’t like having our forces out there with insufficient means to protect themselves if those lunatics decide to try something. Can we get more forces out there to join them? … We can? … Why not double the Marines and the support ships and see if Wolfish will let us stage some planes on Niue? Those Wasps will need frigates and destroyers with them, too; we can do that can’t we? …. What do have out on maneuvers? Yes, two Expeditionary Units would be perfect. … Can you get the ships rerouted? …. Good… I’m meeting with General Blackstone tonight, I’ll see about temporary staging rights. Thanks, Obadiah…”

One last call before he caught his flight to Wolfish. He hadn’t wanted to make the trip, despite the short flight time, but it was important now more than ever to ask about staging some planes from Niue, just in case. The last call was to the Seal base at Pitts Island. Clayton didn’t like not knowing what an apparently hostile country was up to, and he needed to find out fast. “I want two teams in there yesterday”, he barked to the officer on duty. “Use one of the standard contingency plans and go in overland from east, that border is porous as hell. Coordinate with the Ambassador there, if you have to, he has assets in the compound that you can use.”

Wolfish Defense Command, Blackstone’s Office, Wolfish

General Blackstone was pacing. The delegation from Hatchibombitar had landed, and was on route from the airport.

He wasn’t used to being nervous – but, while Wolfish didn’t need Hatchibombitar’s support for a successful campaign against Empassioned People – it would add a certain legitimacy to the offensive.

“General – General Clayton and his aide are in the briefing room,” said the assistant standing in the doorway.

“Thank you.”

Blackstone grabbed a cigar from the humidor and walked down the hall to where Sally Clayton was waiting with his staff.

“General – good to see you again. I only wish it was under better circumstances. How is the Queen?”

“I’m afraid there is no change – she’s still unconscious in GEC.”

Blackstone paused dramatically and lit his cigar.

“Sally – I’m not sure how much you know – but both our nations have been deliberately attacked by Empassioned Peoples. First – the attack on our economy. Then the assassination attempt against the Queen. And lastly – one of our frigates has been rammed and sunk by a EP grain freighter in the Pacific.

General Clayton looked up from his papers in surprise. He’d of course heard of the sinking – but news that it was a deliberate attack was a shock.

“General - - - President Todler’s nephew was serving on the Excalibur. He’s missing and presumed drowned.”

“Daniel – I – I don’t know what to say. How is James?”

“He is badly shaken – his doctors have had to sedate him. He’s with his life-partner Steve now – resting. I’ve taken it upon myself to take control of the nation – given the current crisis, I felt it best that someone with some experience has running the show.”

It all seemed very reasonable – Sally nodded in understanding. Blackstone suppressed a smile at how well this was all going.

“General – in a few minutes I’m going to give the order to begin a campaign to liberate Empassioned People from their leadership. It is the belief of Wolfish that three separate acts of war against this region requires a firm and unwavering response from our military.
“In this specific case diplomacy is useless, embargo’s are unsustainable given the size of EP’s region – and a blockade will only hurt the average citizens of that poor nation.”

“What is your plan,” asked Hatchibombitar’s defacto leader.

“I’ll have Major Franks fill you in on the details – but – well to tell you the truth – I anticipated that you’d want a piece of the bastards – so I had the planners include a role for your nation in the invasion. As you know we both have a sizable force compliment in the region for the war games. We also have pre-positioned supply vessels in the area. We’re cancelling the games, and putting those troops on alert status.

I’m needed in the War Room General. Once Major Franks has briefed you on the plan – you can ask my aide to show you there way there.”

“Thank you General,” said Clayton, pleased that he’d had the foresight to order additional ships to the area before leaving Hatchibombitar.

Blackstone walked into the hallway and finally allowed himself to smile. Once Sally got caught up in the planning – he’d agree without much thought. But, just to make sure, Blackstone had made sure the TV in the briefing room was tuned to GEC’s national news network, which had been broadcasting news of the attack on the Queen non-stop since the attempt on her life. That should keep the General in the right frame of mind.

“A-TEN-SION,” called the MP standing at the door to the War Room as the General walked in.

“As you were. Where are we at Major?”

“Sir – As you know, we have three Recon and Tactical Surveillance teams operating in Empassioned Peoples. To this point they have identified and marked several high-profile targets. They have also confirmed possible staging areas, supply routes and key “choke points” should you order an invasion.

We currently have BG-12 Thorson Command, BG-10 Scorpius Command, BG-14 Remus Command and Taskforce Alfa on station in the Pacific – specifically off-shore of Niue.

We have two pre-positioning ships in Niue – each on capable of supplying a marine regiment for some 40 days – two RO/RO vessels with Leopard II, MLRS, Bradleys and logistical support vehicles on board.

In Niue we have the 7th Air Combat Command, consisting of bomber, fighter and support wings.
For the past week we have had constant satellite photo sweeps of the nation.

Sir – as you are aware – Thorson is down one frigate – the Excalibur. Her surviving crew are being debriefed in Niue as we speak. We can use them to rotate crews should deployments be extended. We’ve dispatched a coastal patrol frigate to Niue to take her place.”

“Very good major. Keep the crew of the frigate separate from the rest of the base – we don’t want their story to get out – rather we don’t want it to change before we’ve debriefed them fully.”

“Aye Sir.”

“Next – I want a EP grain freighter found and sunk on route to Wolfish – as close as possible to where the freighter went down. Make sure it doesn’t transmit a distress call – I want a blanket over the whole area.

Also – I want Taskforce Alfa to begin to move to within 500 km of EP. Begin programming targeting information on….” Blackstone picked up the briefing package the major had been reading from, and referred to the massive map spread across the table… “This satellite receiver facility – SAM stations here, here and here,” with each declaration he stuck a red pin in the map, “And the power stations here and here – careful to take out transmission capability without compromising the radioactive integrity of the reactors.”

The major was stunned – apparently the General had been giving this a lot of thought without consulting the junior staff.

“Well Major?”

“Um. Aye Sir. Right Away Sir.”

As General Blackstone turned to leave the room – he could here the orders being called out – “New orders to TF-Alfa. Get FLASH orders to Sub-Comm – I want a bead on all EP freighters - Get those sat. sweeps on the board. I want Peterson in here now – he’s got coordinates to program!”

Office of the President, Wolfish

James Todler sat alone in his darkened office. His head hung low as his trembling hands held a picture of his nephew – now dead somewhere in the Pacific.

He’d seen so much death since the coup – ten members of his personal staff had been killed in this very room – one for every speech he’d given. Even when he cooperated fully with Blackstone – they’d pull the trigger sending blood and brains against the now permanently stained walls.

He had considered – many times – throwing his desk chair out the window, and following in to the pavement – 80 floors below. But that was the easy way out – and it would do nothing to help the nation he’d served so well for so many years.

“Mr. President?” said the soldier at the door, “General Blackstone to see you.”

Todler nearly vomited.

“Mr. President. I’ve brought someone to help you.” Blackstone smiled. “Dr. Sebastian here,” he pointed toward the man in the white coat following the General into the room, “is going to take you to a place where you can rest.”

Todler was shocked. He couldn’t imagine what the General was up to – but was suddenly concerned that he wasn’t needed.

“General – what – what…”

“Oh do stop babbling. You have been relieved from your duties. You are no longer needed. I will soon announce to the people that due to the death of your relation – you are unfit to govern at this time. Dr. Sebastian will be your caretaker for the foreseeable future. Good bye James.”

Todler stood as the Marines entered the room. The doctor walked up to the President and without warning jabbed a needle into Todler’s arm.

“Just something to help you relax.”

His vision blurred – the room spun and he fell into the arms of one of the soldiers.

“Get him out of here. I’ve got work to do.”

They dragged the unconscious Todler from the room unceremoniously.

General Blackstone sat down at the desk – wanting to light his cigar – but he had one more thing to do first.

“Okay – is that camera ready to tape? Good. Get the lights on – I have a war to plan.”

The camera and lights were switched on. A microphone was quickly clipped to the Generals battle-dress uniform.

“We’re ready Sir.”

Blackstone looked directly into the lens – leaning forward across the desk. While he may hate having to deal with such matters, it was something at which he was skilled.

“Citizens of Wolfish. I’m General Daniel Blackstone.

Recent events in Wolfish and across our region have thrown our nation and our lives into chaos.

It is those matters that I’d like to address for you this evening – then we can get on with the business of fixing this mess.

First – I’d like you to know the truth of what has happened.

Several weeks ago – when the new emerged that our agricultural sector was damaged – one nation decided that they would try and exploit that weakness in our economy.

The Nation of Empassioned Peoples conspired to destroy our economy by illegally dumping massive quantities of genetically modified grain on our country.

Some might ask how giving us food hurts us. Truly – it is a matter of ensuring that our native industries suffer because of artificially low-priced grain sapping the remaining strength from Wolfish.

Secondly – the Genetically modified grain cannot reproduce. That means Wolfish is forever tied to buying these seeds from EP.

Make no mistake, this was a premeditated attack on our nation. It is no different than bombing and killing our people. No different at all.

The second attack was not directed at us – but was planned to disrupt our regional political structure.

We have learned that the attack on the Queen of Hatchibombitar was carried out by EP assassins.

They have targeted the Queen simply because she is our friend.

Strike Two.

Finally – a short time ago – a Wolfish warship attempted, on my order, to stop and inspect an EP grain ship on route to Wolfish. The vessel was warned to stop and stand for inspection.

But instead of stopping, the vessel deliberately rammed the Wolfish vessel – causing it to sink into the black waters of the Pacific. Twelve Wolfish sailors died in that deliberate attack. Including the nephew of our great President – James Todler.

Due to a conflict of interest – President Todler has requested that I take command of the matter. I have grudgingly accepted.

My first action was to order that the attacking vessel was sunk. This happened a short time later by a Wolfish hunter-killer submarine loosing a trio of torpedoes.

Friends – EP has declared war on Wolfish through its deliberate and premeditated action.

On three occasions they have sought to harm our great nation.

But we are not as weak as some believe – we are not lame – we are strong.”
Blackstone stood and the camera panned up and focussed on his fiery eyes.

“I have ordered the Wolfish navy to target and destroy several military targets in Empassioned Peoples.

But that is only the beginning. For the sake of our people – for the sake of our region – For the sake of our nation – Wolfish is going to war.

In the coming days I will give you further information as it becomes available, and when appropriate.”

The red light on the camera switched off.

“Edit that up Commander. Have it ready for release when I give the order.”

“Aye Sir.”

General Blackstone headed out of the room – back once again to the war room. Time to make it all happen.

War Room, Wolfish Defense Command

“Sit-Rep Major.”

“Sir – a SeaWolf has a current track on an EP freighter – likely hauling grain – she’s on course for Wolfish – is riding low in the water – and is 593 feet long. That’s all consistant with a ship registered to the EP government – her name is Tonga.”

“What’s the next step?” asked the General.

“Sir – we’ll dispatch an Orion to confirm her flag and cargo – then fire up the jammers and put her on the bottom. I’m assuming, Sir, that we don’t want surviviors?”

Blackstone was taken by the understanding the Major had of the situation. He piercing eyes looked into the major.

“That’s correct.”

“Well then, Sir, I’d suggest we dispatch a Spec Ops team from Niue in a helo. They can provide any needed “clean up” without a lot of fuss.”

“Good. Do it.”

“Aye Sir.”

The major gave the orders, and within three hours thousands of tons of grain was feeding marine life on the bottom of the Pacific. The torpedoes tore the hull fore-aft-and amidships.

Twelve crew launched life rafts in time to get away from the sinking ship. That effort provided them a few more hours of life – until they heard the sound of helicopters….

Part II: First Blood

Niue Air Force Base, Wolfish Holding of Niue

The black wing slowly emerged from the hardened hanger. A small tractor – strangely out of place – pulled the massive craft slowly forward.

From the tip of each wing – landing lights blinked. Leaving the hanger was, ironically enough, the only time this plane used its lights. In flight it cut through the air in total darkness. Even the pilots windows were tinted against an errant beam of light exposing it to notice.

“Saviour you are cleared for flight on runway 2-7-0.”

“Copy tower.”

The co-pilot ran through the checklist as the pilot flicked switches and turned dials. The trip to the runway always seemed to be the longest and toughest part of the flight.

Eventually the tractor was unhooked, and the beast was free.

“Tower – Saviour pre-flight check complete. We are ready for takeoff.”

“Saviour – you are cleared for departure. Winds are from the south at 14 knots.”

“Copy tower, Saviour out.”

“You ready Cally?”

“Yep,” replied the young pilot – her dark hair matching the colour of the B-2 she flew.

“Throttle up. Engines at max. Releasing the brake,” the massive plane started slowly – inching its way down the concrete runway – picking up speed quickly.

Once off the ground the automated systems began taking over control of the craft. The computer plotted the best course track to the pre-programmed target area – climbed to 50,000 feet and accelerated to .8 of mach.

“Target 400 km out.”

“Copy. Did you bring any coffee?”

“Yeah – want some?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

The pilots sipped their coffees in silence – watching the clock countdown to the coordinates.
After a while, the co-pilot checked the electronic map displayed on his screen. “Entering enemy territory.”

“Better put the coffee away then eh?”

“Guess so.”

The pilots devoted their full attention to the digital screens and displays in front (and between) them.

“Five minutes to target area.”

“Okay – checklist time.”

“Right.”

The two poured through the list – “All Green. Ready to go.”

“Right,” said the co-pilot. “We’re entering the target area.”

The 1,000 pound, GBU-31 sat alone in the bomb bay.

A slight whine – and an adjustment by the computer to compensate for increase drag – was the only way to tell that the bomb bay doors had opened.

“Target is locked.”

“Copy. Bomb is away. 5 minutes to termination.”

The B-2 passed the target area and its own bomb. Its mini TV screens following the weapon to the target – designated Primary 1.

The bomb now had a constant uplink to the satellite in geosynchronous orbit over the small nation.

It burst through the clouds at 10,000 feet as it made its final course corrections – 1 foot forward – two feet down.

The camera confirmed hard contact with the metal sided building before the pilots – and Wolfish Defense Command – lost contact with the weapon.

“I call that a positive hit on Primary 1 – copilot – do you concur?”

“Co-pilot concurs – positive hit on Primary 1.”

The conversation was for the benefit of the cockpit voice recorder – the B2 would remain under radio silence until it returned to Wolfish airspace.

The Pacific, 1000 km South of Empassioned Peoples, Taskforce Alfa

The convoy cut through the water at about 20 knots – just fast enough that the supply ships could keep up.

“Command – we have received the uplink to the satellite. Targeting set. Missiles are smart.”

“All right. Notify the fleet – General Quarters.”

“All hands to battle stations. All hands – Battle stations.”

The Admiral watched from the bridge as the Arsenal ship – less then half a kilometre away turned so the wind was at its back (the better to vent the rocket exhaust).

“Sir – Arsenal Bravo is at station.”

“Very good. They may commence firing sequence Tango 5-9-5.”

“Bravo – go weapons hot. Initiate Tango 5-9-5.”

The Admiral lowered the binoculars. He’d rather the wide view for this.

He couldn’t see the deck plates rise – but he watched as missiles blasted out of the bowels of the ship and into the night sky.

Ten tomahawks rose – then levelled, on a predetermined course to a target over a thousand kilometres away.

“Sir – all birds are away.”

“Alright – lets get this fleet moving. Resume course for EP.”

“Aye Sir.”

The missiles flew just under the speed of sound for the distant shore.

Eight different targets were selected. Primary targets programmed included SAM stations at North Point, Portsmouth, Power Point, Pinnicle, Griffin Cove and Shady Dunes. Four tomahawks were sent to hit command structures at the military bases in North Point and Power Point.

Waiting 375 kilometres overhead – four individual satellites waited to record the coming damage.

GEC Corporate Medical Center, Librious

Dr. Octavus was sitting at his desk reviewing the latest medical reports about the Queens condition. He had spent almost everyday since she was brought in working until the wee hours of the morning. A sword of Damocles was a very powerful incentive.

Blood flow is good, brain activity normal…wait a minute, endocrine system working at 65%.

A quick review or related reports confirmed that the adrenal glands had slowly stopped working. This was not good, not for Celeste and certainly not for the Doctor.

Octavus picked up his office phone and called his secretary. “Get me the Dr. Cohen, Dr. Rajpan and Dr. Wilmington in here at this moment. Tell them to get here ASAP and keep this very secret, the last thing we need is this on the news channels.”

Some twenty minutes later, three more doctors in various states of undress had taken up positions around the office. All looked rather unhappy to have been called in during their time off.

“I understand that many of you were otherwise engaged when I called you here but we have somewhat of an emergency on our hands.”

After examining the material in turn, the look of anger was replaced by anxiousness on each of the medical practitioners.

“What do course of action do you suggest?” asked Dr. Rajpan, the facilities lead neurosurgeon.

“I will leave that to our resident endocrinologist, Dr. Cohen.”

After a minute of deep thought, Dr. Cohen addressed his colleagues with her prognosis of the situation.

“It seems that the bullet caused more damage then we initially thought. The cortex in the adrenal gland is no longer receiving electronic impulses from the sympathetic nervous system. Without these impulses, the medulla cannot synthesize mineralocorticoids and glucocorticoids as well as other important hormones.”

“So the bullet fragment we removed from the spine did cause residual damage along the nervous system.” Dr. Wilmington interjected.

“Yes Doctor, it seems that our situation has become considerably more grave. What are our options Elizabeth and Navpreet?”

Dr. Cohen and Dr. Rajpan consulted each other for about five minutes in the corner of the office. The serious nation of the situation made them forgo explaining the complex terms they bantered around for the other doctors in the room.

“We have an option. The procedure itself would require approximately three hours of surgery and the chances of success are reasonably high.”

“The problem is that the device we require to stimulate electrical impulses from the nervous system is very rare. It would take the manufacturer three weeks to produce the device alone.”

At that moment, the phone rang in Dr. Octavus rang.

“This is not a good time…how did you know…what…Yes, I understand…”

“Ladies and gentlemen, it seems that we were not the only ones who have been partaking in this discussion. Our benefactors at GEC Spirits are aware of our predicament and the required device will be delivered tomorrow to the operating room. I suggest we all go home and have a good rest.”

Each of the assembled doctors got up and left as the unpleasant realization that their lives were being monitored washed over them.

CEPNN: Today an armed contingent broke down the gates of the Hatchibombitar’s embassy and constructed a small barracks on the front lawn. Armed guards have taken patrols around the embassy and the diplomats inside have been placed under house arrest. Someone was seen tinkering with the transformer for the embassy and small explosion was seen, presumably a power spike, before all the lights in the embassy went dark. There are reports that the water supply to the embassy is under repairs and service has temporarily been shut off. This is in response to *switches to footage of an Abrams tank driving around in the flower bed in the CEP embassy in Hatchibombitar * the recent house arrest imposed on our diplomats in Hatchibombitar.*switches to footage of the PL being chased through the corridor of the capital building, in one of the public areas.* When asked for comment our PL had this to say. “They don’t like it? Too fucking bad they can haul ass outta the country then, a chopper is waiting.”

Royal Palace, City of Cornelius

Sally Clayton barged into his suite of offices at precisely 10:00 pm, having taken a chopper directly from the airport to the palace. It had been a whirlwind of a day and it was about to get a whole lot busier. Waiting in his office were Obadiah Sistrunk, Minister of Defense, and Pom Palavi IV, the Foreign Minister. Flopping into his seat, Clayton sighed, “Gentlemen, we’re at war!” His two old friends nodded knowingly and then Palavi spoke. “We have a problem at the embassy in Empassioned Peoples. Apparently their troops broke into our compound and are now patrolling the grounds. We honored their sovereign territory and never crossed the property line, but they’re playing serious games here and I think we need to respond. No one’s been hurt, yet, but this could escalate very quickly. There’s a rumor they’re offering safe passage, but there’s been no formal communication of that. The attaché managed to get four of the special ops team off the grounds in the confusion, but the rest are still holed up, and unless we can get people out of there, they’re useless to us for now.”

Sistrunk now weighed in. “Sally, we have two Expeditionary Units tasked to join up with the Niue deployment and we’re loading additional supply vessels now. They’re not going to sail for another 24 hours, but what we have on site will be adequate, with several days reserve, until they can get there. I’ve ordered the 2nd bomber Wing to Niue, as we discussed earlier. They should be in the air now. Wolfish supplies will last us for a few days until we can get a supply chain to them there and the carrier fighters can help with tactical air support. We’re set to move into the Op Center in Palavia tonight, I’m heading out now and I’ll see you there for the morning briefing.”

Aboard HRMS Badger

Admiral Clark was back in the Combat and Command Information Center, slumped in his familiar leather chair. “Gentlemen, the objective is to isolate Northpoint. I want every SAM site and power plant gone in Northpoint, Telos, Waterway and Roscow. The bombers can make their first run tomorrow, I’m told, and we’ll take care of targeting for them once this first pass is complete. Let’s get those destroyers and cruisers earning their keep, now!” Clark stabbed a red button on the console in front of him “Meerkat, Mink, Wolverine and Puma, get ‘em in the air, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

Had Clark left the CCIC for a stroll on the deck, he would have shortly heard a succession of throaty roars, as dozens of Tomahawk missiles leapt from the embrace of their naval confinement and took to the air, headed down-range for the northeastern coast of Empassioned Peoples and their precisely bracketed targets.

The Court Jester, 50 kilometres off the coast of Empassioned People

Every receptor, transmitter, satellite imaging system and UAV system had been running without stop for the past 12 hours. Technicians had pretty much been chained to their terminals as coffee cups formed a sea of styrophone at their feet and overflowing ashtrays made mountains on their desks.

Missile hits against EP played on every screen in an endless loop as stock images from political protests in Hatchibombitar and Wolfish were spliced in with segments taken from regional commercial tourist videos.

Their orders had been unusual but specific. Regardless, they fulfilled their objective with the professionalism expected of them.

The first signal was ready.

______________________________________________________

* Camera opens on to a small child playing in a wheat field with a puppy*

* Cue melodic music and announcer*

“This child knows nothing of sadness, pain or loss. He exemplifies everything pure and good in the world.”

* Camera cuts to black and the music stops *

“And now he is dead…”

* Cut to scenes of explosions and burning houses, women screaming over the corpses of their children and soldiers collecting the dead before cutting to a fire animation on a black backdrop *

“Guinness Extra Cold Entertainment Division, a subsidiary of Guinness Extra Cold Spirits Incorporated brings you a first in reality based television.”

* Scenes of tomahawks firing from an Aegis cruiser, Spec Ops forces silently emerging from water with knives in their mouths, quick scene of a non-descript guard getting his throat cut from behind *

“We are bringing you, the viewing public, a war from the soldiers person perspective. Be there as the missiles launch, the bombs drop and lives end. Our cameras are there as decisions are made, troops are landed and cities besieged.”

* Camera cuts back to the fire animation *

“Contact your local satellite or cable provider to order The End of Empassioned People now, early subscribers will get a free coffee mug and hat with their order. Only 49.95$ per month.”

GEC takes no responsibility if the military conflict ends before broadcast. GEC is not affiliated with either the attacking forces or the EP. GEC does not accept liability for members of the public who travel to conflict zones after viewing our programs. GEC does not condone unrestrained warfare and reminds all participants in the conflagration that there exists humanitarian legislation as to the treatment of prisoners and non-combatants.

GEC Spirits Incorporated Headquarters

The lights came on slowly in the boardroom as the promotional video finished playing.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, your opinions.”

With any collection of executives, everyone waits until someone sets the mood of the conversation before they hop on whatever bandwagon has been started. The silence lasted until Chairman Yretrek spoke again.

“No comments no pay.”

This got the ball rolling.

“I liked the contrast between the child playing and the dead shopkeeper. It was fresh and new.”

“Definitely a paradigm shift in how we view television.”

“You can feel the synergy emanating from the screen.”

Yretrek placed his head in his hands as fatigue and annoyance began to show on his usually expressionless face.

“Real suggestions or you get real pain.”

Some moments of silence passed.

“People are going to get bored watching tactical strike footage over and over again. We are going to need a human element to the show.”

“We are going to show the casualties and the wailings of the survivors.”

“No, not that, I mean we need to be able to see the decision makers and the stress effect. The human angle is what keeps people watching the drivel we put out.”

“I don’t think we can get a satellite recording device to our operative in Wolfish.”

“Obviously. I was thinking we have actors playing the major figures in the war. We could start casting this week.”

“I like it, I like it. We could have Jeffery Sinclair as General Blackstone, George Randles as General Salvatore Clayton, Murray Stewart as President Todler and Melinda Carpenter as the woman he loves.”

“Men, President Todler likes men.”

“That’s a minor issue that can be dealt with in editing. The public will forgive us if we take some liberties with the story. Plus, it will play better with the conservative religious nations.”

“Okay, you now know what direction the program should be taking. Within the next twenty-four hours we will have an extraction team in EP that will place satellite linked cameras in major EP cities so that we can show the battle damage and aftershocks. I want a cast list on my desk within the next two days and a new promo within the next twelve hours. Ladies and Gentlemen, if we do this well the income losses incurred from the assassination attempt on Queen Celeste will be completely erased. Now get out.”

The executives shuffled out of the boardroom and Chairman Yretrek was left alone to think.

We are going to need something big to keep the public’s attention. I don’t think that Wolfish or Hatch will be able to keep our ratings high by themselves.

The Chairman picked up a recent edition of PMC International that someone had left on the table.

After thumbing through the employment section, he started to laugh to himself.

Everyone loves a little massacre.

Roscow:
Michael was walking along the exterior of the building, he liked to take breaks from the boring mind numbing ness of the paperwork. But it was a job and it’s not like this facility ever saw combat, hell not even the MP in the area carried weapons. He paused to take a drag on his spliff, *cough* damn I need to quit this pot, maybe then I could get a better job and,… hey what’s that noise? Michael looked around, south then east and then north. Spotting a white plume he followed it up until he head was craned straight up. ‘Shit’

The missiles impacted with no resistance and the building itself buckled down 5 floors until the additions collapsed onto the solid super structure. The trains on the tracks next to the building derailed instantly in the explosion causing the tankers to ignite and the entire building began to burn.

Casualties> 800 military personal
> 200 civilian contractors

Northpoint:
The city went along unsuspecting of anything, then all of a sudden the klaxons which hadn’t been used since the revolution came alive. Red flashing and loud wails permeated the air. The middle age and elderly know what to do instinctively throwing themselves into doorways, cellars and into dedicated safe zones. The young, who had never known the horror of an air raid didn’t react until the first missile came down. The first struck Hunter Tower, a great testament to the thriving educational sector. In retrospect perhaps building a SAM site on the tower wasn’t the most brilliant plan, but the logic at the time was to provide protection to the city, it being the highest point and thereby having the best firing arc. The tower burst into flames at the top of it, a blazing inferno, interestingly enough it looked like a giant birthday candle celebrating the beginning of the end. The next 2 missiles were shot down thanks to the quick response times of the men and women arming the sites but it was no use as three more came in rapid succession obliterating another 3 patriot sites. When the missile strikes ended the central park was ablaze with 3 separate but contained fires at the sites of what used to be air defence sites.
As people emerged from hiding to survey the damage most eyes were brought to the giant candle in the middle of downtown. The sides were buckling and there wasn’t much people could do but watch as the drywall and gyp rock swept of the reinforced girders and local on lookers were plastered with several tons of hot drywall. When the dust had cleared an eerie skeletal being stood where the tower once did, ghastly the charred girders held in place and people looked on at the destruction wrought upon them by unknown assailants.

Casualties> 36 military personal
 1 600 civilians
 4 air defence sites

Fort North (SW of Northpoint):
The base had snapped to alert and the aircraft were being prepped. Seconds ago Northpoint had been fired upon by the Hatchibombitar fleet off the coast. By standing mandate the base mobilized for counter attack. Erin had always been good at her job, but now she was put to the test in deed. She was at her tracking station calling trajectories of incoming missiles. It was hard with everyone screaming but she did her job exactly how she was trained. She smiled as the incomings where removed from her screen. Blip, blip, blip three down blip, blip, blip three more down. Her mouth opened to call out another co ordinate when a lower then radar missile slammed into the CIC and the words never left her mouth, her section of command was a redundancy and because of that when the missile impacted she was killed instantly her surroundings lacking the protection of the more secure areas of the base. 9 missiles slammed into the base within those quick seconds and smashed all redundant systems leaving only the core command structure.
Off the runway to meet the threat lifted 351 A-10s both B-2s and 15 F15s taking flank to protect the heavy hitters. The main force sailed toward the target at 30 000 ft with nothing but retribution on the minds of the pilots, most of whom had family in Northpoint. The two B-2s flew farther behind at 50 000 with orders to sink the biggest ship they could engage.

Casualties> 1 050 military
 149 A-10s
 3 air defence sites

2nd military salvo on Fort North:

The CIC was obliterated, with no one to order the defences where to fire the remaining missiles all impacted. The base itself was leveled and all hands where lost totaling another 1 200 military casualties, the entire base compliment lie ether incapacitated or dead within its smoldering confines.


Patriot City: The no one even saw the black figure above the clouds, all anyone realized was a large boom and the massive satellite dish and the station beside it were crumpled in on themselves. The air defences went on alert after that but by the time they’d acquired the target it was exiting weapons range. The loses here were financially crippling with a 15 billion dollar receiver gone and the 28 men and women who manned it.

2nd salvo on Northpoint:

The city was ripped in two as the remaining cruise missiles fell from the sky disabling all the remaining air defence in that city the towers which the SAM site where built on pitched over and toppled onto the surrounding buildings killing thousands. The city burned as rescue crews attempted to put out the fires while trying to pull survivors from the wreckage.

Portsmouth:

With only three air defence sites to its name Portsmouth did well for itself, shooting down one of the incoming missiles, however it mattered not because regardless of the success another missile was dispatched and the site could not be so lucky twice. With the SAM sites in this city placed in the suburbs there was very little collateral damage.

Pinnacle:

having only tracking stations very successfully painted every incoming target, and had there been something to fire with they probably would’ve hit the incoming, but sadly with the budget the way it has been left 4 smoking craters where some sophisticated tracking equipment once stood.

Griffin Cove:

The missiles roared in nosed at their targets and the patriot sites responded, they filled the sky with anti missile fire in an attempt to bring them down. With 5 SAM sites they held up well, bring down every missile in the first salvo, but when more missiles came they caught the patriots with only a ½ salvo and unable to bring down every missile. Each time one missile was let through and each time one more patriot site was torn to pieces.

Shady Dunes:

The missiles came in hard and fast, but the only thing here that even remotely resembled a SAM site was the recreational observatory for the local resort. The missile slammed down perfectly on target, killing 105 unsuspecting tourists.

Powerpoint:

The SAM sites here were a bit more up to snuff shooting down a lot more missiles then expected quota. Losing only 3 sites the remaining 17 sites stayed operational and ready for the next attack.

Fort Connis:

2 of the oncoming missiles where destroyed by patriots, leaving the remaining two to remove, ala smoking crater, the redundant systems of the base, allowing for a full compliment of 500 A-10 thunderbolts
2 B-2 bombers
15 F15-Es
To take off from the base unfettered to rendezvous with the air force leaving Fort North the pilots, hardened in their determination for revenge swept toward their wolfish targets with rage filling them. They were in identical formation to their reinforcements from Fort North.

DP

OOC: id like to get into this quickly, Is that ok?

Lord General, we have a situation that might be of your attention

Ah... I see. Mobilize the seventh Marine and eight Armour Corps, and board them on the ships. Set a course for Empassioned Peoples

Yessir

Hogsingrad Port

The tanks rolled onto the ship, great metal beasts entering an even greater behemoth. The maroon hull off the Tkruski class transport cruiser gleamed in the afternoon sunlight like something out of a fantasy- yet this was deadly real. The Hogsweat Military was preparing for war, with Empassioned Peoples, or with Hatchibombitar... nobody knew.

"Pfeeh...he didnt have to mobilize a whole CORP to get this done"

"Its probably something big you know... 500,000 Men isnt a small amount"


Over Empassioned Skies

The ospreys rotors turned swiftly in the night sky, the matt black paint of the VTOL Aircraft unclear to the naked eye. Inside, twelve Marines, Red Reconaissance Unit, talked quietly, or slept.

"This is probably just a babysitting operation, check out an Embassy, maybe shoot at a plant.. y'know, basic stuff?"

"Your right... another one of those things and ill be out of the corp before you can say RRU"

"Hehehe" The two Recon Marines sniggered.

The Osprey continued its flight, entering ever near Roscow and the impending situation...


[OOC] Is that ok? I havent been part of a big RP for a while, so..

Kessler sat at the table with the cabinet, deep in the bowels of the Berliston Capital Office. It was early in his presidency, and already he had not one, but two crisises. First the KLF resurfacing, and then this wonderful incident.
"UnderTech sold them how many freighters?"
"They were contracted with 1000, sir. And if TEP was waging economic war, we'll be linked to them if they have intel worth a damn."
Kessler sighed, looking at the map.
"So have you guys come up with anything?"
A Major linked to the "Dreamland" Air Base looked from his spot, with a folder of papers in his hands.
"All the signs point to recon for now. We can't afford to get too bogged down in this."
"So your suggestion for this would be?.."
The pale, tall major slid the President the folder.
"We've had one of our High-Mach MultiRole aircraft, the Geist, on a lot of testing lately. She can perform just about any recon you need, hell, she can even bomb if you want."
"Any more reliable ways to do this?"
"Not without attracting more attention. Sending a Peeping Tom over the Battlegroups will really get them irked."
"You have my permission for recconissance, strict Combat ROE."
The major smiled, and got up from his seat, his gray uniform contrasting with the blue wallscreen behind him.
"I'll be right on it, sir."

The Geist's sleek frame still sat in it's underground hangar at "Dreamland", where crews scurried like mice to complete her load out for the mission Clavin was going over the payload with one of the mechanics, while the rest of the crew geared up.
"Yeah, that's right. Two USV-15 "Catfish", the standard Sensor suites, normal AA Payload, two Screamers, and a pair of AGM-904 HARMs."
"Geez, a USV drop this close to the battlegroups of Hatch? That's only 60 miles North."
"Any farther and the little fishies can't get us the information we need. You know the drill. Good luck."

The black aircraft was now ready for flight, sitting on the runway.
"Skipstone One, you are clear."
"Roger that, Skipstone confirms."
Clavin signaled to his crew, and the thrust vectoring angled for takeoff as the aircraft slowly gained speed. The aircraft kept going, rising ever so much every yard. Near the end of the long runway, the aicraft took to the skies, it's landing gear retracting as it prepared for full stealth. It rocketed to 60,000 feet, flirting with Mach 3 as it headed towards TEP. The Athena ARC system activated, giving it no radar signature, just blank space.

The flight took hours, but soon lights blinked up in the dark cockpit.
"Alright people, we're entering Hatch detection range, get ready. I don't want a single bay door opening until I give the word, a SAM up our a** is not going to improve my day. We've still got a ways to drop point 1."
This was it. Alone and isolated, with only LIDAR showing the aircraft it's way, the Geist cruised towards the fleet as it bombarded Northpoint.

TASKFORCE ALFA, 800 km North of Power Point

“Sir – Niue Command confirms receipt of our Sit-Rep. Has authorized full weapons free status for the fleet.”

“Very good Seaman. Pass that along to the fleet.”

“General – time to get your boys airborne.”

“Aye Admiral.”

The CIC was darkened – red bulbs burned with the intensity that each crew member felt in their guts.

Less than three minutes ago RAT team Bravo confirmed that a massive force of aircraft were taking off and forming up from Power Point base in Empassioned Peoples. Common Support Aircraft had since confirmed a large group of targets on long-range radar.

Taskforce Alfa had immediately gone to General Quarters – and now the game began.

Overflight patrol 6, had just refueled, and were told that there mission was to be extended.

Now, General Norstar, TF Alfa’s air wing commander, was putting his entire force in the skies.

Every twenty seconds a plane was shot off the bow of the ship – crew members in bright red shirts were hauling ordinance out of the bowels of the carrier as quickly as the cargo lifts would allow – and strapping them onto birds already lined up on the flight deck.

While to the casual observer –the scene would appear to be a chaotic mess – it was actually a well-choreographed, and well-rehearsed ballot.

For every four F/A 18 SuperHornets launched, 1 CSA.. After forming up, and receiving their designation code – the fighters would head towards the incoming threat.

The CSAs had a technically more demanding mission. Being the workhorses of the air fleets, their duties required them to be at the beck-and-call of the fighters – providing mid-air refueling, jamming and radar tracking and control.

Following the CSAs were the EA-6B Prowlers – the Dark Arts squadron as they liked to be called.

They’d catch up to the fighters and providing tactical jamming against the EP forces. They were all burdened with 3 auxiliary fuel pods – and 2 long range HARM missiles hanging from their wing tips.

Eight squadrons of four fighters each formed up and headed for the coastline – if the “brains” on the boat knew how to do math – they’d meet the incoming EP planes some 300 km from the Taskforce.

Four more squadrons (16 F18s) held back – keeping their fuel topped up and their eyes on the radar for “breaches” in the Taskforce’s airspace.
Meanwhile the carrier turned – heading to the rear-centre of the group – ensuring the maximum number of ships between it and the threat.
“CSA TACK 1 – whatta you got?”

“TF Command – their formed up tight. Can’t get an accurate number – its just showing as a blob on the screen.”

“Confirmed TACK 1. Continue to monitor.”

The CIC was pulling together the data feeds from the various, and numerous, airborne radars – finally giving up on the data overload – and having the fighters power down their individual systems. Each fighter was now linked to the closest CSA radar unit.

“That’s better,” Sir – I’m counting upwards of 400 individual target – though that is not a hard number.”

“Jesus,” was the Admiral’s only reply as he got up to see the screen himself. “Get all possible ship-borne launchers loaded with proximity-blast standard missiles. Also make sure Niue is kept up to date. They’ve got to see this.”

“Aye Sir.”

Major Craig Oliver was in one of the first “flights” of F18s – speeding on full cruise speed towards the coastline.

“Striker 1 – target acquisition. 160 km out. Coming up as a group of Warthogs. Flight – arm Phoenix – Designating targets.”

Pilots “highlighted” the oncoming enemies their individual missile would target.

“And – FOXTROT – FOXTROT.”

From the inboard wing missile rails of each plane – a streak of fire as the missiles flew away and lit their engines.

“Command – Striker 1 – we have 8 away – continuing course.”
The planes went to afterburner to follow the missiles in – though with little
hope of keeping up.

“Drop Tanks now. Arm Sparrows.”

The Wolfish fighters were now quickly closing on the incoming planes.

“Shit – Command – they’ve got escorts – We’re continuing to target the A-10s. Flight – split.”

The F18s paired off – cutting east and west – while still vectoring on the A-10s.

At 45 km the planes again selected their targets amongst the slower attack craft and began to fire.

This time the jets rocked as two missile came off each wing – gaining altitude to increase speed as they fell towards the targets just at the edge of their vision.

“Flight – hit the deck and return to the carrier.”

The F18s cut through the air as they began their turn – pushing the stick forward to dive for the waves some 30,000 feet below.

As they maneuvered out of the way – the next groups of fighters were close in behind – firing in the same sequence – again – aiming for the A10s.

Niue Base

“We counted how many?”

“Sir latest radar tracks show somewhere in the order of 700 enemy aircraft heading for the Wolfish or Hatchibombitar fleets.”

“Holy Mother of God.”

“Who’s “god” Sir?”

“Never mind that now Son…We can’t help the battle groups defend themselves – but we can make sure the enemy can’t do this again. We’ll do what we should have done in the first place,” the General looked at the wall chart showing the status of all forces under his command. “I want the bomber wing on full alert.” Load the B-52s with tomahawks – eight on each – and fill the B1-Bs with all the penetrators you can fiind – load the
B2’s with sub-munitions and general purpose bombs.

“I want every runway in that nation pockmarked – and every control tower and hanger leveled. Are we clear?”

“Yes Sir.”

The B1s – being the first response bombers – were first off the deck. The B52s took longer – they require external wing pods mounted, then loaded with the guided missiles – the B2s were last – taking off after nightfall. There mission – hit anything missed by the others.

Combat Command and Information Center: HRMS Badger

Admiral Clark was aghast. "A-10's you say? They're sending Warthogs after the fleet!?! How many? What do you mean you can't tell me, I thought that satellite could count the dimples on a golf ball. Wait a minute, what else besides the A-10's? 15 and 2? OK. Call Clayton, tell him we need those fields destroyed."

Clark hung up the encrypted satellite phone and looked across the glowing red expanse of the CCIC. "Empassioned Peoples have launched at least 300 A-10's, a squadron of F-15's, and maybe some B-2's on us. They've done the same to the Wolfish Navy. I want everything we've got in the air, now. Move, people!"

Aboard the two Wasps, Boar and Shoat, pilots ran for their Harriers and began spinning up the powerful engines. Carrying only 4 Sidewinder Missiles each, the Harriers would have to be good shots today; an A-10 was bult to take damage. Slowly, the curious aircraft attained separation from the decks, and as they ascended, the pilots gently vectored the thrust rearward, and away from a ninety degree angle. As they did so, the Harriers moved semlessly from vertical to forward flight and began to climb to altitude.

The flight deck of Cheetah was a blur of colored shirts as F-18's jockeyed for position at each of the four catapults. What looked to the untrained eye like mass confusion was in fact a carefully choreographed and endlessly rehearsed ballet of violence and jet fuel. Following the Wolfish Doctrine, CSA's and Prowlers worked in concert with the F-18's and leaped off the catapults at staggered intervals to join the coming fray.

The whole fleet seemed to shake with the roar of fighters forming into attack formations, then gradually stilled as they climbed higher, out of sight to the naked eye, and flew swiftly to intercept the oncoming planes. The plan was hastily drawn up, but crudely effective: Twenty F-18's would engage the fighters and look for any bombers, while the remainder would climb high and then descend out of the sun to pick off the Warthogs. Harriers would provide a final line of defense against any hostile aircraft that slipped through the net.

In cockpits high over the ocean, adrenaline flooded as Sparrows were armed. Soon a mass of planes could be seen headed seaward. In the forward flight, Lieutenant Rod Hastings muttered "Tally-Ho" and thrust his stick forward in preparation to lead his squadron in the first pass. Diving steeply, he waited for full target acquisition and lock, then fired the first of his Sparrows. Across the sky, his comrades followed suit.

Meanwhile, below, the fleet had reconfigured itself into a defensive pattern. Frigates, Cruisers, and Destroyers formed the outermost lines of defense, while the masssive battleship stood ominous watch over the two Wasps and the Carrier. Sailors manned their stations and trembled with excitement...and fear.

"... it was here that the first Missles struck"
The camera zoomed in on the exploding building..
"So far the rough estimate is about 500 civillian casualties and about 1000 Military, Wolfish claims this war is because of their collapsed economy... However is this just a distraction to take their minds off of the steadily ailing Wolfish Economy? Also will Midlonia and it's ally Hogsweat get involved in this blatant act of Imperialism, This is Fredrick Grimes Reporting for Midlonian Broadcasting Company News..

Presidential Palace, Shih'Aori, capital of Democratic Republic of Shang-Ti

“Ok people, talk to me. What’s going on with Empassioned People? I feel like I’m getting more information from the news wires than from my intelligence staff,” President Eric Dao said as he entered the Cabinet Board Room.

“Sir, our first indication of military problems came from Convoy Escort Group Three, which was approximately 150 kilometers from Empassioned People’s waterline,” said General K’ung Tzu, Secretary of Tao-Military Affairs, as everyone sat back down after the cabinet members respectfully rose as President Dao walked in. “The lead frigate of CEG-3, STS Leviticus called in some major activity with what we have now learned to be a Wolfish Battle Group and possibly a Hatchibombitar Battle Group.”

“Was this before or after the apparent sinking of a Wolfish frigate by an EP cargo ship? Alejandro sent me a copy of the feed from the speech that President Todler gave after the sinking of…,” President Dao asked, his fingers drumming lightly on the oak table as he glanced at the paperwork in front of him. “The sinking of…”

Secretary of Tao-Intelligence, Alejandro Li, cleared his throat. “The Excalibur, Mr. President. President Todler’s speech was after the sinking.”

“We also have the apparent assassination attempt on Hatchibombitar’s queen, as outlined in President Todler’s speech and in other news wires,” said Dr. Kim Zhuo, Secretary of Tao-Foreign Affairs. “Wolfish and Hatchibombitar are very close allies. Bad economy in Wolfish, an apparent attack on a Wolfish frigate by a Empassioned People’s cargo vessel, and the apparent assassination on Hatchibombitar’s queen. All of this in such a short amount of time. It’s as if Empassioned People were asking for an invasion.”

“Ok people, what I don’t like is that there hasn’t been any attempt at diplomacy. The sinking of the frigate is bad, but going to war? That’s a little light,” President Dao said. He ran his old, gnarled hands through his thinning, gray hair before he continued. “Has it been proven yet that Empassioned People were responsible for the assassination attempt on Queen Celeste? I haven’t seen any report on that. Furthermore – “

A sudden knock on the door interrupted the President. The armed Marine opened the door to Director Jessica Levy from the Tao-Intelligence Foreign Services division.

“Mr. President, I greatly apologize for this interruption. However, I strongly suggest you see this,” Director Levy said, reaching out to the television remote on the oak desk and turning on the TV.

"So far the rough estimate is about 500 civillian casualties and about 1000 Military, Wolfish claims this war is because of their collapsed economy... However is this just a distraction to take their minds off of the steadily ailing Wolfish Economy? Also will Midlonia and it's ally Hogsweat get involved in this blatant act of Imperialism, This is Fredrick Grimes Reporting for Midlonian Broadcasting Company News…"

Director Levy handed a report to President Dao and Secretary Alejandro Li. “Shots have definitely been fired. Multiple missile hits on military bases, and possibly civilian installations in Empassioned People. Looks to be a combination of Wolfish and Hatchibombitar bombardment. We’re not sure on any retaliation measures from EP yet.”

“Very well, thank you for the update Jessica,” President Dao said, nodding to the Director of TIFS. After Director Levy took her leave, President Dao briefly read over the report then looked at his most trusted advisors. “Ok people, let’s here some suggestions.”

Fleet Admiral of the Shang-Ti Republican Navy, Benjamin Lin, was the first to speak up. “Sir, I suggest we deploy at least one Submarine Group to the region for recon, and place all Convoy Escort Groups as well as all Submarine Groups in the area at Military Alert Level Two. Weapons will be hot; however, crews will be under direct orders to fire only if fired upon. We don’t have any real interest in this yet on a military standing so I would suggest not raising the Military Alert to the rest of the forces yet.”

“I agree with Admiral Lin,” said Secretary Zhuo. “I also think we need to raise our Diplomatic Alert level to Three. We need to start pumping our embassies for more information; however, I don’t think we need to start putting up Special Ops personnel.”

President Eric Dao nodded his head slowly to each of the suggestions. He ran his fingers through his thinning hair again before making his decision. “Very well. Very well. I agree with Admiral Lin and Dr. Zhuo. I also want a humanitarian convoy ready for Empassioned People and Wolfish ready to depart within 48 hours if they request humanitarian aid.”

As everyone rose with the meeting adjourned, President Dao made a final statement to the group, “I want us all back here in two hours with some more information. There’s definitely something going on that we don’t have all the details. I want those details.”

Secretary of Tao-State, James Lao was the last to leave and approached the President. The old friends clasped shoulders, as James said, “This is a hell of a way to break our isolationist heritage, isn’t it Eric?”

Wolfish Cable Network Studios, Camden

It wasn’t that often that Daniel Blackstone was uncomfortable in a situation – but this was one of those rare time.

“Stick that goddamned thing in my eye one more time and I’ll have you shot.”

“Sorry General,” replied the very nervous makeup artist. “We’re done anyway Sir.”

Blackstone got out of the chair and looked into the mirror, “I look like a bloody whore.”

“It’ll look natural under the camera and lights Sir.”

He snorted in reply and walked out of the room towards the conference centre – his senior aide Major Purser in tow.

“Remind me why I’m doing this Major?”

“Sir – you’ll recall – it is important that world opinion stay on our side – at best we can hope that other nations remain neutral – at worse, they see our actions as imperialism and decided to intervene. That will…complicate matters.”

“Alright – so who will be watching this?”

“Again Sir – as we discussed – this broadcast will be sources through the Wolfish Cable Network – their satellite feed is regularly monitored by most nations – just as we monitor the news from other countries.”

“Alright,” retorted the General – pausing at the door to the studio. “But this is the last one.”

“Of course Sir,” said the Major – not really believing that would be the case. The General would soon learn that there was more to governing than ordering troops around – with Todler now disposed of – Blackstone’s duties would become more demanding.

“General – thank you for coming in to our studio,” the producer greeting the imposing General looked intimidated. Once the General left the company of other Wolfish soldiers – his imposing bulk became much more noticeable.

“Let’s just get this going, shall we,” said the General shortly.

“Of course. We’ll just wire you for sound,” he said as he clipped the microphone to the General’s lapel,” and we’ll have you sit in front of the fireplace…here.”

“There’s no fire lit.”

“We’ll add in a computer generated fire Sir. Its more realistic and not so smelly.”

“Good.”

“Okay General – we’ll start in a second – just look directly into this camera – the words will roll down this teleprompter in front of the lens. Good. Just like that. And we’re taping in seven – six – five – four,” he stopped talking and finished the countdown with his fingers – finally gesturing for the General to begin reading.

“Citizens…I come to you tonight with grave news. Wolfish forces, along with our valiant allies from Hatchibombitar, are tonight under attack in international waters off the coast of Empassioned Peoples.

Tonight – our sons and daughters are besieged and are fighting in defense of freedom and liberty.

As you know, several weeks ago, it became known that the government of Empassioned Peoples conspired to wreck our economy. Then they attempted to kill Queen Celeste of Hatchibombitar. Finally, as our patience wore thin, they rammed a Wolfish warship – sending her to the bottom with 12 souls trapped below decks…including of course the nephew of our beloved President Todler.”

The General leaned forward as he continued. “Wolfish is a profoundly patient nation. We tend to work to resolve problems rather than to seek conflict.

But in this very specific case – diplomacy was ignored – diplomacy was seen as an option that – due to the aggressive and relentless efforts of EP – would be seen as weakness…a weakness that EP was willing and able to exploit.

And so we responded in the only way possible – with a proportional….measured response - an attack using long-range, guided missiles targeting known military targets in EP.

We…We even went so far as to time our attacks when the fewest number of EP soldiers would be near those locations.

As I said in my opening remarks – tonight our forces are under attack, in international waters, by EP forces.

Almost a thousand planes are descending on our ships – on our citizens – to kill – to destroy – to maim.

But we are strong. We will fight back. We will not tolerate this blatant and unwarranted attack on our vessels.

Tonight I have orders three Battlegroups to the region, along with four regiments of Wolfish Marines – and the needed supply vessels.

Tonight we will begin to reclaim our dignity,” the General was now pounding his fist into his hand.

“Tonight we begin to find justice for our dead.”

The General leaned back, calming himself.

“It is not lightly that we go to war. It is not lightly that we attack another nation. But it was not the people of EP that killed President Todler’s nephew. It was not the people of EP that attacked and crippled our economy. It was not the people of EP that shot Queen Celeste.

It was their leadership – it was their government – it was there military.

And now – I intend to ensure they cause no more harm.

I will report soon on our progress. Good night.”

“AND CUT. Very good General. Very good indeed,” said the producer – visibly relieved that they got it in one take. “We’ll have it ready for broadcast in an hour.”

“Good. Major, lets get back to work.”

“Yes General.”

Minutes after the broadcast, the desktop speaker phone clicked on in the office of Ower IX, the Deputy SecState of the Republic of Ozymandias IV.

"This is the Ruling Council," the metallic voice said. "You are ordered to conduct a full analysis of the current situation between the states of Wolfish and Empassioned Peoples.

"It appears that a shooting war is about to begin between these two nations. A preliminary report by the Republican Security Agency indicates that this conflict has been orchestrated by Wolfish to accomplish yet-uncertain aims.

"Before a position can be formulated, all RSA data must be analyzed by an independent agency. We expect the results of this analysis to be prepared within three working days.

"This is a top priority."

Ower IX swallowed hard. This was his second message from the Ruling Council in less than a week - after going his entire adult life with only hearing from the Council once and that to confirm his appointment as Deputy SecState.

"I acknowledge the order of the Council. The analysis is to be completed within three days, he said stiffly. "What of the situation with our embassy in Credonia?"

If it was possible for the mechanical voice coming from the phone's speaker to show annoyance, it did so now: "You have your orders."

Deep underground at the remaining CIC in Powerpoint

“Sir!”
“At ease Major, report.”
“Yessir. The enemy fleet is taking positions to protect their more valuable ships, as expected, and are launching now. The think tank doesn’t see a problem with the air defense, we’ll lose a few A-10’s but we should be able to make it into the bulk of the fleet with minimal loses.”
“Excellent.”
“But sir, our projections for losses are going to be high. The frigates and destroyers are going to throw a lot of flak into the air. Not to mention that the AEGIS cruisers are going to bring down a plane every time they fire one of their missiles.”
“Damn,… alright inform the squad leaders, this will not be one run. We want them close enough to launch their bigger stuff, fire the cannons and leave. Try to do some damage on the aircraft carrier if they can.”
“Are the B-2s still set to sink the battleship?”
“Yep, no sense in even getting them to reply, with no radar profile, heat signature radio emissions they should be able to glide over the air battle and deliver payload.”

30 000 ft above the pacific ocean North of Empassioned Peoples

“Hold formation boys, keep it tight” Several missiles had just rocked the formation more where incoming, it was a barrel shoot. The A-10s were absorbing the missile fire but they, after becoming too damaged, slowly began to descend to the ocean floor, skimming a few times they broke into pieces and flames.
“That’s 18 down.” The squadron commander looked down at his panel signaling that almost everyone in the squad had tone on some of the fighters.
“Hold your fire boys as soon as we paint some ships we are cleared for release. Escorts move to front we have another wave coming in your cleared for release.” With that the F-15s engines became notably loader and they skitted out to the front of the air fleet to engage the next group of inbounds. As the Wolfish fighters launched on the inbound A-10s the F-15s picked their targets and fired loosing AIM-7F/M Sparrow missiles as they came into range.

As the A-10s came into range of the taskforce the pilots began to quake because as the got tone on the Wolfish ships, their computers began to warn them about enemies locking on. The brave men and women of those crafts began to say their final rites as the thunderous booms of the Hatchibombitar destroyers began to greet them.
“This is CIC. Engage at will, your priority is the ships but engage at will.” With that the sky was ablaze as the remaining A-10s began to fire against any target that passed into their sights all the while the howitzers on the bottoms of the planes never missing a beat in their malevolent pounding of the AEGIS cruisers and the Hatch frigates. The battle raged on for some time with A-10s being taken out of the sky like mosquitoes.

The pilots of the B-2s watched in dismay as their proud planes were reduced to fiery cinders. Flack, shells and guided missiles plucked the multirole aircraft from the sky before their eyes some 20 000 ft below their present position.

“We don’t have permission to assist Tony, hell we can’t even radio the C n C to ask, our position would be tattled and we’d be shot down.”
“I know sir, but, but, they ain’t winnin’ out there.”
“I know… Come on we’re getting into range we need to make this sound good for the box.”
“This is Black eagle one we’re on approach. We have black eagle two’s mark, its solid. We’re releasing Maverick…. And again…. And again…. And again. Payload is away,… they’re adjusting. We have four solid hits, we’re coming around and going home.”

With that the four mavericks struck dead center ship, the 1st blowing away the deck, the 2nd blowing away the structure of the engine room, the 3rd hollowing out said engine room and the fourth, just incase, blew out the keel of the ship. The great battleship belched forth a massive plume from its belly and began to take on water.

The other B-2s repeated an identical scene on the Cheetah knowing that it would not sink the ship but would do enough damage to cease the Hatchibombitar launches against their soil, if only for awhile.

(Back at the CIC)
“Sir the update is in. We’ve sunk a Wolfish battleship, struck the Cheetah with an undetermined amount of damage, sunk 4 wolfish AEGIS cruisers and we are unable to get a firm fix on the Hatchibombitar fleet as Wolfish as jammers set up between here and there. Our forces are down to 5 F-15s, 20 A-10s and the 4 B-2s are making their way back now.”
“Damn,… call them back, call them all back.”
“Yessir. This is the recall order, full recall. I repeat birds to nest…”
“Damn,… we’ll all be slaughtered.”
“Sir incoming B-52s!”
“Damn….”

The Geist was now at the 90 mile north mark from the Hatchibombitar fleet, as the radars and LIDAR told the tale of the battle around them. Insane amounts of combat aircraft and missiles went back and forth as the nations traded blows, all under and far away from the black shape of the Geist.

"Prepare for USV drop."

"Opening Bay doors."

The black doors opened, and the Geist would now be visible on enemy radar. The two USVs sat, waiting for their time.

"Dropping number one."

The first winged torpedo like object fell through the air, until a parachute allowed it do safely descend into the water.

"Dropping number two."

The second drop happened much the same, and the crew sighed in relief. Until a red light flashed as the crew attempted to close the doors.

"We've got a NoRep from the bay doors!"

The huge doors remained open as the Geist came closer and closer to the Hatchibombitar fleet, and still visible on Radar.

"Alright, hit the manual. We need to do this."
The Major sighed, and hoped the green circles representing the Hatchibombitar radar did not turn yellow, god forbid red. Being found was not going to be a pleasant thing.

Presidential Palace, Shih'Aori, capital city of Shang-Ti

President Dao started the meeting by turning off the video coverage of General Blackstone’s television appearance.

“This was recorded just an hour ago. I have my own thoughts on it, but I want to hear everyone else’s first. James?”

Secretary of Tao-State James Lao nodded to the President as he began, “Mr. President, what strikes me as odd is that we still haven’t heard any response from Empassioned Peoples. All the propaganda we’ve seen is from President Todler and General Blackstone. And, so far, this has been extremely one-sided. Things have progressed a little too quickly to declare an all-out war. What I find particularly disturbing is that a General would assume the interim presidency.”

“’ Wolfish forces, along with our valiant allies from Hatchibombitar, are tonight under attack in international waters off the coast of Empassioned Peoples.’ They aren’t under attack, Empassioned Peoples is defending itself,” scoffed General K’ung Tzu, Secretary of Tao-Military Affairs. “If Wolfish didn’t want there fleet to be attacked in international waters, then they shouldn’t have fired cruise missiles onto EP soil!”

President Dao waved down General Tzu, “Calm down K’ung. We’re trying to assess the situation here; we need to look at things more balanced.” President Dao visibly sighed as he looked back at the reports generated by the Tao-Intelligence staff. “James, anything else to add?”

James Lao leaned back in his leather chair and thought for a second. “Wolfish forces far out-number and can out-gun Empassioned Peoples. Blackstone already confirmed a deployment of additional battle groups and marines. My lingering question, that hasn’t been answered in any of this propaganda is, what does Wolfish plan to do once they’ve dealt with the EP military?”

“That’s a good question James. Dr. Zhuo, do you have anything to add to that? What does Wolfish and Hatchibombitar have to gain in this?” President Dao asked his Secretary of Tao-Foreign Services.

Dr. Kim Zhuo furrowed her brow and removed her glasses before answering. “That’s a hard one to gauge, Mr. President. Let’s focus on Hatchibombitar for a moment. As James noted, we have only seen propaganda from Wolfish. Nothing from Empassioned Peoples, and even more interesting to me is very little propaganda from Hatchibombitar. You’d think there would be some sort of civil notice indicating their displeasure with EP, or even a notice of war. So far we’ve heard nothing. If we focus on that, as I said, for a moment, then it seems to me that Wolfish is definitely calling the shots. Is it because of their military superiority? That could be it; however, Hatchibombitar has a well developed military itself. Yet, they seem to be playing a supporting role in this rather than a partnership role. In my opinion, this is a unilateral military movement by Wolfish.”

“So, if Wolfish is calling the shots militarily, where does that leave Hatchibombitar diplomatically?” President Dao asked.

“That’s what I don’t understand yet, Mr. President. Yes, economic problems are serious. Yes, the supposedly intentional sinking of a military vessel is horrible. However, the attempted assassination of the ruler of a country seems to trump those as far as severity. Again, I’m pointing out the miniscule response from Hatchibombitar. This also points to Wolfish controlling the shots, no pun intended,” Secretary of Tao-Foreign Services Dr. Kim Zhuo said.

Alejandro Li, Secretary of Tao-Intelligence tapped his fingers on the table. “Doing my job again, Kim? I would have to agree with her assessment in Wolfish’s dominance of this situation.”

“Very well, Alejandro. Dr. Zhuo, anything else?” President Dao asked.

“No, Mr. President.”

“Very well. Allen, what do you make of Blackstone’s stance on economic warfare?” President Dao asked Secretary of Tao-Commerce, Dr. Allen Eng.

Dr. Eng leaned forward and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Mr. President, it’s pretty obvious the Wolfish economy was floundering. You’ve seen the reports of biblical locust and floods ruining their crop staples. Whether the statements of the Empassioned People ruining the Wolfish economy is propaganda or deceit, I don’t know. The fact is Wolfish’s economy was spiraling down before these grain shipments were dumped into their market. Blackstone was right, the people of EP did not attack and cripple their economy, it happened on its own. Problem is going to war won’t solve those issues. Invading another country isn’t going to fix their farming and trading infrastructure. Those problems will exist after the body count has been settled. Even the concept of a war boosting an economy has been proven wrong over the years. Wolfish economists should know this.”

“Very well. Thank you Allen. Now, it seems to me we have a lot of suppositions, assumptions, and contentions. I agree with the majority of what’s been said so far in here. We still don’t have any solid facts to act on. Should we even act? Is this a regional issue that needs to play out on its own? Do we work towards helping Wolfish recover from its economic troubles? Do we work towards helping Empassioned People recover from its destruction of infrastructure? We still have a lot of questions, little facts, and no real answers,” President Dao said. Taking a sip of tea, he put his papers back neatly into his manila folder. “Admiral Lin, what assets do we have in that area again?”

Admiral Benjamin Lin, Fleet Admiral of the DRST Republican Navy opened up his own manila folder. “Mr. President, we currently have three Convoy Escort Groups in the immediate area. Each consists of two guided missile frigates and one sub-hunting frigate; and each group is escorting approximately 10 cargo vessels each. We have also deployed Submarine Group Neptune, which consists of eight Wraith Class submarines and should be in the area in five days.”

“Alejandro, what does it look like to put some people in Wolfish, Hatchibombitar, or EP?” President Dao asked.

The Secretary of Tao-Intelligence shook his head. “I’d say almost impossible now, Mr. President. If we had an embassy in place in one of those nations, maybe. If there weren’t hostilities now, maybe. I wouldn’t risk trying to send some of our men in now, though.”

“Very well. Admiral Lin, the Convoy Escort Groups and Sub-Group will remain at Military Alert Level Two until further notice. I won’t risk sending more assets into the area until we know more of what’s going on. So, for now, they’ll have to be our eyes and ears. Alejandro and Kim, I want you both to go over those issues regarding who’s calling the shots between Wolfish and Hatchibombitar. James and Allen, I want you two to work on economic recovery plans for both Wolfish and EP. Unless anything more urgent occurs, we’ll meet back here tomorrow morning.”

A chorus of “Yes sirs” followed President Eric Dao as he left the Cabinet Board Room to have meet with his wife.

Inside the huge ornate chamber of Rotovia's leading Cathedral the President kneels, in full Imperial Gown, before the giant marble altar. A Priest stands in front of him.

"Body of Christ" The President inclines his head and consumes the small wafer. "Blood of Christ" the soft tones of the Latin Mail Mary, gently sung in the background by the choir, are broken by hastened footsteps.

Oh, Ave Maria

Two men in military uniform approach the President, who rises rapidly with a note of anger in his face. "Mr. President, Senator Cuvalo has requested your presence in the Military Council". The President makes make a hasty exit his cape trailing behind him down the long corridor of the Church, before he reaches the door a flick of the shoulders releases it. By the time he steps onto the street outside he is dressed in a tailored Armani suit. Though passers-by could only catch a glimpse before he disappeared into a waiting limousine.

The traditional motorcade, two motorcycles followed by a four wheel drive and two identical limousines, pulls away. "The Minster asked I hand you these notes" The President took one look at the documents he was handed and brushed them aside. "Son, I understand you like to follow orders. But there is no way I am reading a forty page folder in a poorly lit limo." "Aye sir” Came the meek reply. It was only a short while before the President enter the Council Chambers

A huge round oak table featured in the room’s center, around it were identical black chairs on which the most important figures in the Rotovian Military were seated. The President took his seat at the only chair that was not an exact replica of the others, a large golden throne-like seat featuring the National Crest.

The President raised a hand to silence them room, a gesture which anyone who knew the President understood required immediate action. "Now I was summoned from a midnight Mass service to attend this meeting and I want answer, and I want them now. There will be no interruptions or inane comments, I will simply require the facts to be laid out quickly and precisely."

Ivanna Cuvalo gave a slight smirk before beginning her presentation. "Mr. President, as you are well aware our relations with Wolfish have been strained at best. However our latest intelligence has confirmed our worst fears. An over zealous General has usurped power from President Todler and invaded a nearby nation of Impassioned Peoples."

The room fills with murmurs as The Minster took resumed her seat; they were silenced again by the President. "So what you are telling me is we now have a legitimate reason to strike back against the nation who wounded our honor, killed our men and sunk over a billion dollars in military equipment? I want a press release prepared immediately, and have a Bill of War prepared for the Senate's approval. Justice will be served, and we will be its sword!"

The President quickly stands and leaves followed by a dozen interns handing him documents of various descriptions.

Broadcast from an undisclosed location inside EP.

The message was pointed at any satellite that looked like it had a receiver on it. Broadcast on to any country that would listen an exhausted looking Party Leader looked out of the screen at who ever would listen to his voice.

“Hello. Tonight I am addressing anyone who will listen to me. A few short hours ago the combined navies of Hatchibombitar and Wolfish laid waste to our two largest military bases without provocation or even an attempt at diplomatic overture. We also have confirmed reports of causalities in Roscow, Northpoint and Power point, civilian targets except the distribution centre in Roscow, which was filled with paper pushers.

So tonight I ask anyone with the power to do something, anyone with the power to act, anyone,… at all. Come to our aid, we cannot stand against these diabolical behemoths our money is not spent on being able to fight a war of this magnitude as we have counter attacked the military and suffered near complete losses of our airforce.”

The PL straightened himself and his face hardened
“But if the fact that you’d be doing the right thing isn’t enough how about this, it’s a recovered satellite image of the Wolfish frigate supposedly sunk by the EP grain freighter.” The screen flipped into the satellite feed record. Time stamped and light amped to correct for the massive storm that, as it become obvious, sunk the powerful ship.
“Now we also have an image of the EP grain that supposedly did what that storm just did.” The screen switched to the feed of a freighter bearing a CEP flag, steaming along calm blue waters, when suddenly the midsections began to explode.
“To quick for you? Why don’t we zoom in and pause,… here.” The screen switched to a very magnified view where you can see a dark cylinder just below the water with a plume leading off the screen.
“We’ll let you think about that one. Now please,…. Assist us, we are the victims here, we are going to suffer countless losses, we will be completely unable to defend ourselves when the next bombardment comes, please..” with that static began to fuzz out the picture and words then a blue screen. After a second or so of that the screen returned to the regularly scheduled programming.

The BattleShip floated calmly in international waters.

"Ensign Malekna, open a comm frequency with EP Central Command"

"Roger Admiral"

The frequency buzzed with static, and cleared slowly over a few seconds.

"General. I am Admiral Weareanski, CiC of the Hogsweatian Red Marines. We are currently poised in innternational waters on patrol missions. Is anything going on down there?"

The recon Osprey lowered gracefully onto the Embassy. Another missile struck above head, and Lieutenant Markow shuddered. It would be a long day.

TASKFORCE ALFA, NORTH OF EP, ACC Command Deck

The sun was shining brightly on TF Alfa – a few soft clouds drifted past, high above the deep blue waters. It was as calm a scene as one could imagine.

The it was a much different picture on the command deck. The loud speaker in the corner – connected directly to the air-traffic combat communications system…

“TANGO LEAD – Missiles Away…Shit. They’ve got lock on me. Running for the deck….Carl – can you see him?”

“Negative – they’ve dropped in behind us.”

*static*

“Command – this is Romeo Lead – Confirm TANGO has splashed. No cutes. We’re rolling in.”

The communications officer on the carrier hit his transmit button, “Copy that Romeo – target the A10s – over.”

“Right Command. We’ll do our best. The F15s are all over us.”

“Copy Romeo.”

*30 seconds passes*

“FOXTROT – FOXTROT missiles away….What the…

*static*

“Sir – Able flight is inbound – their on fumes – requesting priority landing. Their flight is still intact – but the flights that followed them didn’t have the level of surprise – we’ve lost,” he flips the page on his clipboard, “30 SuperHornets and 1 CSA. Helo’s are searching for survivors.”

“Very well – get Able turned around and airborne. I want them overhead when the Warthogs arrive.”

“Aye Admiral. Able – you are cleared for priority landing. Flight deck control – rearm and refuel Able Flight and re launch – Ordinance and Fire Suppression teams on standby – this is going to be an exciting one.”

The XO was watching the large radar screens in the anteroom “Admiral – the inbounds are coming in range of the picket line – they should start firing soon.”

The communication officer flipped a switch, allowing the command centre to now also hear the picket line ships’ communication.

“This is frigate Lyle – we have inbounds at “breach line” – weapons are free.”

*sounds of several rocket launches lasting more than a minute*

“Frigate Lyle to Command – we have launched – we have launched sparrows and SM-2s – Jesus – there’s a lot of inbounds command.

*additional launches heard*

“Inbounds are firing – they’ve got radar lock – VAMPIRE – VAMPIRE – VAMPIRE”

*sounds of missile launch – seconds later, sounds of Phalanx*

“BRACE FOR IMP…”

*static*

“Command this is cruiser Epsilon – looks like Lyle took out three – but got hit by the next three. Lyle is listing and going down.”

“Copy Epsilon – What is your situation? Over.”

“Command – We have begun launches – our helo is airborne and heading to search for survivors from Lyle. We’ve downed at least 20 A-10s..Can confirm about 8 Wolfish Aircraft hits…Stand by…. Command – they’ve flanked us – A10s inside the inner perimeter…”

*sounds of a massive explosion*

“Epsilon to Command – WE ARE HIT – WE ARE HIT – STARBOARD AFT – MISSILE STRIKE AT THE WATERLINE.”

*sounds of second explosion*

“Jesus – they hit the fuel bunker – we are spilling burning bunker fuel into the sea.

*sounds of third explosion*

“Command – Epsilon is going down…*

*static*

“Command – this is Helo Epsilon 1 – we have a load a survivors – request permission to land on the carrier.”

The communications officer looked to the Admiral, standing grim faced behind him.

“Send them to another cruisers – I need my flight deck clear for the fighters.”

“Aye Sir….Helo Epsilon 1 – negative – you are request to land on cruiser Apollo.”

“Umm. Apollo is on fire Command.”

“Copy that Epsilon 1 – what else can you see?”

“Command – Lyle is submerged. Epsilon’s got a broken back – the fire has surrounded the ship – survivors are not likely to last long there – Apollo appears to have a A10 on its forward deck – and has taken a missile directly to the bridge. We can also see smoke from the destroyer Silverweed.”

“Copy that Epsilon 1 – re-route to the destroyer Hobbs.”

“Admiral – the fighters are inbound – they should be starting to land in a minute…”

*massive explosion ½ to port of the carrier*

Thick glass cracked in the command centre of the carrier as three massive explosions rocked the ship.

“Admiral – get down!” The XO leapt across the control room and tackled the Admiral as a fourth explosion stunned those on the carrier deck.

Sirens wailed as fire teams charged onto the carrier deck – expecting to see jets burning or missiles damage – instead, all they saw was a massive orange glow where the mighty battleship Churchill had been – gallantly defending the carrier – moments before.

Secondary explosions cause the ocean to swell and boil as the ammo holds lit and exploded – literally ripping the 12,000 ton vessel apart at the seams.

“Sir – those were not missile strikes. They came in vertically on my radar – at least the last one did – I’ll have to rewind and watch the tape – but those were bombs!”

The Admiral got up and brushed off his uniform, “B2s…” he said quietly. “Radio Niue base – provide them with a sit-rep. Likely KIA, MIA or wounded will total over 2,000. We’re going to need a hospital ship out here with the next convoy.”

“Aye Admiral – transmitting now.”

The Admiral look over to the radar officer. “Anything else incoming son?”

“No sir – the enemy warplanes are heading for home – or what’s left of them – I’m counting less than 30 surviving enemy craft.”

“Very good. We’re not in any shape to pursuit them – call back our planes – have Able provide fleet protection until we can get some other planes airborne. I want full damage reports – and full supply reports from all vessels in the fleet.”

“Aye Admiral – we’ve received word from Battle Group Thorson – they are 12 hours from here at flank speed. By morning we’ll have company.”

“Good. Tell them to deploy south of us – we’re in no shape to fend off another attack.”

“Aye Admiral.”


Airborne Strike Group – over Empassioned Peoples

The B1 bombers had been the first to take off – and likely had the hardest mission.

Less than an hour before the order had come to the 43rd bomber wing, Niue, to scramble for EP.

Nine B1s, 4 B2s and 10 B52Hs had split up to allow for careful targeting of their specific targets.

The B52s – loaded down with a total of 80 tomahawks – would launch from 300 km off shore – pounding civilian airfields, small commercial strips, and even farm-use airfields. The 4 B2s were launched to take out radar stations, and SAM sites previously missed in and around PowerPoint – while the nine B1s were carrying runway-wrecking penetrators – designed with a short-burst accelerator that would drive the high-explosive warhead well below the concrete strip before detonating – causing a 200 foot crater to form.

For all the haste in launching the attack – it was well timed. No sooner had the B2 Spirits dropped their loads, than the B1s pushed their sticks over, and dropped to stomach-dropping 200 feet above “the deck”.

This flight lead – confirm we are no longer picking up hostile radar. We’re going in hot.”

The streamlined bombers accelerated to their maximum speed – screaming across the small nation – opening their Bombay doors and the last second, and releasing their concrete-eating cargo.

“Contact. Power Point can now be renamed Pockmark Point. Heading to secondary target.”

With their first bomb bays now empty – the B1s maintained their altitude and headed across the bay to North Point, which was previously hit by Hatchibombitar forces.

“No use carrying these things back to Niue. Might was well help out our friends.”

Within minutes the supersonic planes were lining up for there second pass of the night.

“On target and drop now-now-now.”

“Confirm contact.”

“Alright folk – out to sea and then home in time for the late show.”

The planes banked to the north, and took a course that would pass over the Wolfish fleet.

“Jesus – will you look at that…”

From just 200 feet above the waves the bomber pilots had a perfect view of the aftermath of the first battle of the EP war. Debris mixed with oil covered the surface of the sea where the cruiser and frigate had gone down – further north the silhouette of the great battleship could be seen – lit by the fires still raging inside – finally the broken destroyer – its command island smashed and hanging over the deck and into the sea – its list pulling it downward to a silent and icy cold grave.

“Think they’ll let us reload and go back for a second run tonight?” asked one of the shocked pilots – knowing that below them Wolfish sailors were dead and dying.

“I doubt it. But we’ll get our chance. Soon enough we’ll pay the bastards back.”

Not another word was spoken on the return trip to Niue Island.

The remaining forces returning to CEP
“Radar reads bombers coming back from the coastline.”
“Are they intercepting us?”
“No sir they read light, they’ve already hit their targets. What do you think they hit?”
“I don’t think soldier I know. I can’t reach CIC or Air control at all, damn they’ve leveled our Northern defenses. Squad leader to squad, that includes you Black Eagles, we’re diverting to Patriot City it’ll be the only place to touch down now. I want everyone to run their calculations what do the computers say how much do you have to dump to make it?” The computers clicked and whirred silently deciding the fates of the pilots who sat in front of them. The B-2s were fine and the A-10s and F-15s after dropping their left over munitions to the sea bed could make it in a pinch but it was not a unanimous thing,
“Sir, I , I , I”
“Spit it out captain we don’t have time for a hooked on phonics lesson.”
“Yessir, I can’t make it. Even if I dump everything, including the modular armor, I … I can’t make it into Patriot City.”
“I see.” Normally this wouldn’t be too bad, they could parachute out and survive on emergency rations, but looking over the Squad leader didn’t even need to ask the question, the bottom section of the cock pit was not even there. The mesh flapped and the structural beams could plainly be seen, probably why the poor bugger couldn’t make it in. Too much drag. “Well Kyle,” he thought it appropriate to use his first name, this was probably the last thing he’d say to him. “It’s your call. You can dump and come as far as you can, or you can parachute and take your chances. I won’t make this call. I’ll tell base command about ya once we touch down but, I…”
“Yea,… I know sir. There won’t be a rescue, too risky for 2 men. Well,… Sir if you wouldn’t mind I’d like to take up some airtime on the box to address my family.”
“Yea, gimmie a sec. Squad, loose the excess and re arrange without me, I’m staying back for a bit.”
“All excess weight lost sir, this bird just saw Jenny Craig. As for the 2nd part sir, Kyle’s our man too and we’ll stay with him until he goes down.”
“Yea, we can all stay put. Black Eagles activate burn, we’ll be along later.”
“Roger, we’ll have the flags at half mast by the time ya get there sir.” With that the B-2s engines wheezed a slight bit and the planes accelerated away from the squad.
“Thanks sir, *ahem* to my loving wife, Fiona I love you baby,…”

Midlonian Houses of Parliament
"....the Fact is that We cannot afford to get involved in such a large scale war! If we Commit Greater Empire troops to the Area it will damage us economically, the losses we are expected to have are horrendous, they simply have to much fire power lined up against EP and us, if we are involed...."
The House of commons erupted into fever, ever politician shoutin their own opinions out, no- one saw the little emperor arrive...
SILENCE! I am sick of this bickering, i am disolving Parliament, except for Habbak who will act as Guardian of the Country, the Greater Empire of Midlonia will help Empassioned peoples in this blatant act of Imperialism, and incompetence on the Part of General-Dictator"

A large podium is set-up outside the Central Government Building, behind are two flag stands. The flag or Rotovia, and the flag of the state of Attapolis. Seated infront of the podium are almost one hundred local and foreign media members busily talking.

It is then the Presidential Motorcade begins rolling in, first the two motorcycles, then a four-wheel drive, then the deco limosine, and finally the presidential limosine arrives. Camera flash reflect of the shiny black doors as opens revealing the President, escorted by two secret service officals. He quickly take his place behind the podium.

"Honoured members of the press, today I call upon you to deliver a message to the noble people of Rotovia, and the international community. There is a time when the world must turn it's head to evil so that we donot loose our lives in vein, then there is a time when we must stand united and fight, lest we loose our souls.

This is such a time, for years we have endured the scorn of Wolfish, they have unjustly murdered our men and women, they have insulted our honour and now they invade a soveriegn nation for an unholy imperialist agenda. Well we will not stand for this, we will rise, and we will fight!

A declaration of war was issued last night by the Senate of Rotovia and this will be followed by a full-scale deployment of our forces. Many lives will be lost in this conflict, I will not deny that. But in the end our lives will mean nothing without the freedom to live them"

Prime Ministers Briefing Room

The PM had had a long day, a couple of ambassadors to see and then a rare chance to play a round of golf at the Shackleton Links club in northern Freetown. Now all had to do was sit through this normally boring meeting and he could get back to his wife, they spent too long away from each other these days he reflected.

Lt Col Black walked in with a crisp step and a smart salute to the PM. He went to the small speaking platform and sorted out the intelligence papers.

'Sir we have been monitoring a situation involving Wolfish, Hatch and EP for sometime now, but in the last few days it has errupted into a massive war. The orgins of the war fall with Wolfish they sunk a EP freighter after claiming that they had rammed a frigate. They then launched a huge missile strike against key military installations in EP and caused not just crippiling military casulties but 1,000's of civillians as well. The EP immeaditly, as any nation would retaliated with a massive airstrike on the Wolfish fleet, the EP planes where swotted down like flies and as far as we know caused minimal damage. Thats about it' he summed up

'Intresting, we can't let them do that to a country who they should have no quarrel with, I want a full report on my desk by 8am. Good briefing'

The PM was at a loss, why would they attack a nation like this, fair enough they had had some economic problems but nations can always recover from that. Argyllia would have to consider their response carefully.

8:00 pm, outside the Hatchibombitarian Royal Palace

Sally Clayton stood ramrod straight at the top of the broad marble steps, eschewing his usual five stars on a khaki blouse for full dress blues with the crimson sash of The Order of the Tusk blazing from his chest. He had chosen to speak without notes, nor would he use an armored podium. In discussion with the cabinet he had made his position abundantly clear: “I’ll speak as I live and as I’ve tried to lead; out front, no armor or teleprompters. Our people deserve that.” And so, it was settled.

As the white lights came up to full illumination, Clayton began his address in a moderate tone and with a wistful smile. “Friends, brother, sisters, Hatchibombitarians: Many of you have seen the news stories stating that we have attacked today the nation of Empassioned Peoples. I am here tonight to tell you that we have not attacked, we have retaliated in a measured and prudent manner. As I speak, our Queen, my sister Celeste, lies comatose in a foreign land, savagely brutalized by moral and economic pirates. Just days ago she called for the cessation of the economic warfare embarked upon by Empassioned Peoples on our dear ally, Wolfish. Her reward for her candor and hand of friendship was to be shot down in the street like a common thug.”

Clayton paused, inhaled deeply and straightened his already stiff spine even further. “The world community will ask, why not use diplomacy? Why not negotiate? To the world I ask, does the farmer in the cane field negotiate with cobra or does he cleave off its head with the hoe? Does the musk ox negotiate with the cheetah as she lays in wait for her baby or does she respond with a full charge and lowered horns? Do we negotiate the life of our Queen? Is she a mere barrel of fuel oil or bushel of wheat, on which a price can be set and reparations determined? I say to you tonight, we cannot and will not let acts of naked aggression stand. We are a peaceful people, slow to anger and slower still to action. Our benevolence has been mistaken for passivity, our benign nature for weakness. This will be no more. Tonight, Empassioned Peoples has tasted the steel of our sword. They shall not soon forget with whom they have trifled.

To the communities of the world I say, stand back and let justice and reason take hold. A rogue nation endeavored to bring a longstanding and peaceful ally to its knees through merciless and predatory economic practices. When a peace-loving ally attempted to intervene diplomatically, the response was violent and malevolent. We shall prevail; we shall see justice done. No longer will Empassioned Peoples be a threat to the nations of the world. Do not attempt to interfere, we implore you. Our fight is for you, not against you. Tonight, Wolfish and Hatchibombitar stand as one, and let no nation attempt to cleave them. For Queen and for country, we shall prevail!”

Aboard HRMS Badger

Clark hated the glowing red cocoon of the Combat and Command Information Center, believing that real commanders led from the deck, brandishing a cutlass with a rapier clenched in his jaws. At the moment however, swordplay was no match for missiles and cannon fire as wave after wave of A-10s roared towards the fleet. Nearby, the garbled radio reports indicated that while Wolfish was exacting a hellish toll on the inbound planes, the losses would be substantial. Badger shuddered continuously as a curtain of fire poured into the sky, and all around him he knew that the cruisers, destroyers, and frigates were adding their ordnance to the battle.

The frigate Pronghorn was the first to go. The A-10 is a devilish airplane, able to absorb astonishing amounts of damage and keep coming back for more. It was a lucky shot really, but holed below the waterline, Pronghorn began to list and her steering became sluggish as tons of water poured in through shattered bulkheads. Cannon fire ripped into the bridge, and a series of small explosions engulfed the forward structures. Moments later, the klaxon sounded, and men began running for the rail and the lifepods stowed there. Many made it, many others did not as cannon fire continually raked the decks. Now completely stalled in the water, Pronghorn began to rise at the bow, first gradually and then ever more steeply and swiftly until with a savage hiss she slipped beneath the boiling waters forever.

HRMS Puma, ome of two destroyers in the fleet, was crippled next. While she stayed afloat, smoke poured out her superstructure and sailors could be dimly seen racing across her decks towing lengths of fire hose. A garbled report back to Badger indicated that while Puma was alive, for her the battle was ended. Aboard Cheetah, meanwhile, sailors were horrified to see an F-18 coming in for a landing, but at such an angle that she would shear off into one of the port side elevators that currently held a sister F-18. Men and women could only watch in horror as the gray jet dropped from the sky and slammed sideways into the elevator, ripping it from its mounts. A ball of fire erupted into the largely empty hangar deck, which was segregated by hastily closed blast doors. Regardless, over 100 sailors were instantly immolated.

In the skies overhead, fighters buzed like angy bees through, over, and under the stream of A-10's before dropping to the deck of Cheetah for more munitions. This transitional period was when they were at their most vulnerable and many of the now defenseless fighhters landed with smoke pouring from their wings. 11 failed to make the deck of Cheetah, diving instead to a watery grave over the fleet.

Damages: 1 Frigate sunk, 1 Destroyer out of action, 12 F18’s shot down, 2 Harriers shot down, Moderate carrier damage.

CEG-3 Frigate STS Leviticus 150 km off EP waters

The Comm officer tried to clear up the interference from the EP broadcast as he called the Captain over.

“Sir, I have a low-band video broadcast from Patriot City that I think you need to take a look at.”

Captain Zhang came over to the console and put on a set of headphones as he watched the video relay of the speech, Wolfish frigate sinking, and EP freighter torpedoed. After reviewing the video a few times he put the headset down and gave his order.

“Ensign Tiel, I want a secured transmission to Naval Command at Fang-Ti with this broadcast and request for additional instructions. See if you can clean it up any before transmission.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” Ensign Tiel stated, putting his headphones back on and began working the controls…


Presidential Palace, Shih'Aori, capital city of Shang-Ti

“Mr. President, Tao-Intelligence has confirmed the authenticity of this broadcast. It has not been doctored in any way. It looks like the Wolfish story doesn’t hold up,” Secretary Alejandro Li stated.

“Thank you Alejandro. I certainly had a feeling there was more to this than Wolfish propaganda was letting on. Mary,” President Dao turned to his Executive Assistant. “Set up an emergency meeting with my speech writers, and later with Shang-Ti News. I wish to prepare a statement and want it broadcasted immediately.”

“Yes, Mr. President,” his assistant said, and left the office.

“Right now, I want to remain neutral on this until we see what more of the international community has planned. I’m sure the rest of the region and the world has seen this transmission. Admiral Lin, I want that lead convoy escort group in there picking up survivors, but to stay out of EP waters unless formally requested. How long until those submarines get to the area?”

“They should arrive in theatre in approximately three days, Mr. President,” Admiral Lin said.

“Good. The sooner the better. If I’m sending in rescue operations, I want some additional back-up. That’s it for now. I will be making a statement in two hours,” President Dao said.


CEG-3 Frigate STS Leviticus 150 km off EP waters

Ensign Tiel printed the orders and handed them to XO Peter Chui. “Sir, encryption is good. We have new orders.”

“Very good Ensign, proceed monitoring all known EP channels for additional broadcasts and updates,” Commander Chui said as he took the report from Ensign Tiel.

“Aye aye, Commander.”

“Captain Zhang, we have new orders. Comm confirms encryption is good. I have confirmed Code-of-the-Day is good.” Commander Chui handed the report to Captain Zhang.

“Thank you Commander,” Captain Zhang responded, reading over the report.

“Comm, send a looped reply back on the frequency we received the EP broadcast. Inform Empassioned Peoples that we are sending frigates from CEG-3 to the area within International Waters for SAR purposes only. We will enter EP waters for SAR purposes only if we receive formal request on this broadcast frequency. In addition, send a copy of this reply to CEG-4 Numbres and CEG-6 Corinthians. They are to continue escorting supply convoys to destination.”

Captain Zhang turned back to his XO. “Chui, get the whirlies operational. I want them airborne the first sign of wreckage. Also, have our Hunter start active pinging; I don’t want to be surprised by any subs.”

“Aye aye, Sir.”

“Chief Toby, we’ll need an armed contingent guarding any survivors. No telling what side of the conflict we’ll be picking up, I don’t want any mini-wars on my ships. Secure small arms from the armory and report to the helo staging quarters.”

“Aye aye, Sir.”

Captain Zhang finally sat back in his command chair. “Helm, take us in bearing three-five-niner.”

Ensign Tiel began relaying his message back on the EP frequency, “This is the Frigate Leviticus from the Shang-Ti Republican Navy. We are entering the region as a neutral party to conduct SAR operations. I repeat, this is the Frigate Leviticus from the Shang-Ti Republican Navy. We are entering the region as a neutral parto to conduct Search-and-Rescue operations…”


Presidential Palace, Shih'Aori, capital city of Shang-Ti… two hours later…

The broadcast began with President Eric Dao sitting behind his Executive Desk, the flag of Shang-Ti behind him…

“People of Shang-Ti, the Region, and the World:

As the news agencies around the region have been broadcasting, Wolfish and Hatchibombitar forces are locked in a battle with the small nation of Empassioned Peoples. The Wolfish justification of these actions were the apparent destruction of the Wolfish economy, the egregious sinking of a Wolfish frigate by an Empassioned Peoples’ grain freighter, and the apparent assassination attempt on Queen Celeste of Hatchibombitar. We have obtained evidence from a Shang-Ti convoy escort frigate, monitoring the situation.”

The images of the Wolfish frigate sinking due to the storm, and the separate incident of the EP freighter being sunk are played.

“This video has been verified by our own intelligence agencies to its authenticity. In light of this evidence, we ask that all military activity by all parties cease immediately. In conferring with my Cabinet and high ranking officials, we have determined the following:

One. The Wolfish market was already in collapse prior to the grain dumping accused of Empassioned Peoples. Due to economic forecasts, any amount of grain dumping would not have a great affect to its recovery or its demise.

Two. As we’ve seen from this video obtained by frigates in the area, the Wolfish frigate was rammed by its own vessel and sank due to weather conditions. We also see what appears to be a submarine sinking an EP freighter with no other signs of Wolfish military escorts.

This leads to Three, the assassination attempts on Queen Celeste of Hatchibombitar. So far, we have not seen any evidence or purposeful propaganda from Hatchibombitar. Since Wolfish has no economic reason for engaging EP and Wolfish apparently fabricated the story of the Wolfish frigate, should we assume Wolfish and Hatchibombitar are wrong about the role EP played in Queen Celeste’s condition?

We understand the heightened emotions on all sides, this is why we request all parties to cease military operations immediately. This evidence must be analyzed and discussed by all members. As Shang-Ti is a small nation, we have a stake in this argument. If the Wolfish and Hatchibombitar military are mobilizing for any other reason that what has been described in Wolfish propaganda, then all small nations are at risk. We hope and pray this is not the case, and ask that cooler heads prevail in this matter.

At this time, the Democratic Republic of Shang-Ti offers itself as a neutral ground for any negotiations or talks pertaining to the Wolfish, Hatchibombitar, and Empassioned Peoples’ incident.

May the Unnamable protect us all.”

The broadcast ends with a picture of the Shang-Ti flag fading to black.

Now in theatre:

BG-10 Scorpius (EP fleet)
2 ACC – Charles de Gaulle Class
3 ACC – Wasp Class
2 BB-61 Battleships
2 Howl-Class GM Cruisers
3 Aegis Destroyers
1 Mako Frigate
1 Los Angles Attack Sub
1 SeaWolf Attack Sub
2 RO/RO

BG-14 Remus (EP fleet)
1 ACC – Nimitz Class
3 ACC – Wasp Class
3 BB-61 Battleships
2 Howl-Class GM Cruisers
2 Aegis Destroyers
1 Mako Frigate
1 Los Angles Attack Sub
1 SeaWolf Attack Sub
2 RO/RO

BG-12 Thorson (EP fleet – designated FLAG)
1 ACC – Mutation Class
2 Kruge-Class GM Cruisers
2 Aegis Destroyers
1 Mako Frigate
1 Los Angles Attack Sub
1 SeaWolf Attack Sub

TASKFORCE ALFA (EP fleet)
1 ACC – Nimitz Class
2 GM Cruisers
3 Aegis Destroyers
3 Mako Frigate
2 BB-61 Battleships
4 Arsenal Ships
3 SeaWolf Attack Sub

Plus applicable supply and logistics ships
==============================

Bridge of BG-12 flagship Thorson, 50 km from Taskforce Alfa – 200 km N. of EP

“Hail the Alfa Flagship seaman Craig.”

“Aye Sir – Taskforce Alfa, Taskforce Alfa – this is BG Thorson.”

“Thorson – nice to see you decided to show up for this little turkey shoot.”

“Copy that Alfa. What is your situation?”

“Thorson – we have four ships sunk, one each cruiser, destroyer, frigate and we lost a battleship. One arsenal ship has sustained minor damage. We are light about 35 Super Hornets – and most of the remaining have suffered some damage – we are just barely able to maintain air patrols over the fleet. At this point we are projecting 1,800 dead – and 600 wounded…”

The seaman on the microphone paled when he heard the numbers – everyone on the Thorson knew they were sailing into battle – and had lost one of their own ships on the way here – but to hear it spoken plainly from a fleet not 50 km away was something unfathomable.

“Copy that Alfa.” The Admiral had been scribbling a note on his clipboard, and handed it to the seaman, “Alfa – we are beginning flight operations to provide fleet protection over both ourselves and Alfa. Bring your planes in. Also…Also we are launching relief and supply flights – wounded will be transported to the Wasp class ships in our little battlegroup. Supply ships are about 14 hours behind us – we left them behind in order to get to you quicker.”

“Copy Thorson,” the sound of relief poured through the radio, “We have transported wounded to almost all the ships in the Taskforce – but the worst cases are on Alfa itself.”

“Good – the helos are taking off now.”

CIC Scorpius, 100 km N. of Portsmouth, EP

The crew and command of the Scorpius – the lead assault battle group of the Wolfish fleet now off the shores of Empassioned Peoples – had heard the radio chatter from Thorson and TF Alfa. It made their next task so much easier.

“Let’s get flight ops underway Mr. Yang.”

“Aye Admiral – helm come to heading 180 – set speed to 12 knots. Flight control you have the ball.”

Three stories above on the bridge the controller smiled – this was what he lived for.

“Aye CIC. Flight ops commending.”

He flicked the switch to watch the camera from the UAV – its laser designators clearly “painting” the line of coastal defenses - and then began issuing orders to get his birds aloft.

First off the deck were the rescue helos – should anything go wrong – they’d be on station to pick up the crews…but nothing was going to go wrong today – all the pieces were set – and the plan well rehearsed.

Five Super Hornets shot off the deck in rapid succession – blasting into the sky on full-afterburner.

Meanwhile – off the 3 Wasp amphibious ship – 6 Super Cobra’s lifted off the deck – and pointed their noses towards shore.

The F-18s headed southwest – towards a line of old-style shore defenses – more reminiscent of trench warfare than modern-day conflict.

F18 Striker Group 1

“Scorpius Flight Ops – this is Striker Lead. Approaching target area. We have the feed from the drone – targets look clear. Are we authorized to fire?”

“Striker Lead – you are weapons free.”

“Copy Scorpius. Weapons free, we’re rolling in.”

The jets were now 25 kilometres from the shore battlements.

The group of five quickly, but carefully selected their targets from the options provided by the UAV, flipped the cover on the fire toggle switch and waited for the order.

“Striker Lead to Flight – launch now-now-now.”

Almost as one the flight launch a total of 10 Maverick, air-to-ground missiles – each with a 300-plus pound penetrator warhead.

“Scorpius – weapons away.”

The missiles accelerated away from the F-18 Superhornets – guided by the invisible beams of laser light projected by the drone.

Less than 30 seconds later the missiles impacted the hardened concrete bunkers – slamming deep into the defenses before the high-explosives detonated, showering the surrounding area in newly formed concrete gravel.

“Primaries hit. Moving to secondary targets.”

The UAV – having captured the hits on its cameras – was now ordered to retarget the next line of defenses – more of the same defenses along the shore.

“Scorpius – Targets designated. Firing.”

Again – 10 Mavericks streaked away from the Hornets – and again – seconds later impacted with deadly force.

“Flight – lets head for home.”

As the F-18s turned and headed back to the carrier – the flight of Cobra Attack helos was just approaching the shore.

Flying at just 10 metres above the wave tops – they used their high-resolution cameras to view further ahead than their eyes would allow.

“Scorpius – be advised – we are showing multiple columns of smoke. We’re heading in.”

The six black helicopters darted across the beach and began the hunt for targets of opportunity for their Hellfire and Stinger missiles.

BattleGroup Scorpius, Battleship Arrow

“Helm – set course 165, ahead full.”

“Aye Captain – Helmsman – set course 165, ahead full.”

The massive battleship cut through the water – her two sister ships following behind in formation.

They pulled away from the battlegroup and headed towards Powerpoint, and their first opportunity to contribute to the conflict.

“Commander – I want fire drills for the gunners. We have 10 hours before we open up for real.”

“Aye Captain.”

*morning briefing; Executive Office, Capital City, Tiborita*


"So, in summary, government forces have turned back the rebels and our forces are standing by to see if needed, as were your orders."

"Alright. What's next?"

"Mr. President, the situation in E.P. has gotten much worse. It seems Wolfish and Hatchibombitar have chosen the path to war. One of our satellites got these of Wolfish naval activity. You see these here? And here? These are ships used for an amphibious landing."

"So they aren't just going to give the Empassioned Peoples a slap in the face," The President sighed. "Is there any chance the Wolfish are moving these ships in to just demonstrate their power?"

"That's highly unlikely, sir. You don't spend the amount of money to deploy such a force if you don't plan to follow through."

"When will we know more?"

"Well, in eighteen hours, we're going to have another satellite pass. This one is going to look at possible landing sites on E.P. shores."

"Is the cable news going to scoop our military intelligence?"

"Sir, with all of these disturbances in our allied nations, we are spread a bit thin."

The President was annoyed, and decided to just leave the subject there. "Director Gannon, What's the political situation?"

"There really haven't been any new developments since our last meeting. There's the grain scandle, the lost ships- the frigate and the freighter, and of course there was the assassination attempt. And President Todler hasn't resurfaced."

"Any idea why Todler seemed to be... a new man recently?" FIO Director Banner asked.

"No, getting intel on that is quite hard. The Wolfish government is quite good at showing the world which-ever face they choose."

"Hell," The President said, shifting his position on his chair. "If Tiborita had an economic collapse like they had, It'd sure put a fire in my belly. But now, with this General calling the shots for the time being, who knows how they will act."

He then sat back in his chair and thought for a moment. "You know, I just don't get what the Empassioned Peoples are thinking. I could see how they could get greedy and try to exploit the situation in Wolfish, but I just don't understand why they would try to pick a fight with Wolfish and Hatchibombitar. I mean both of these countries alone, not to mention together, could wipe E.P. off the map. Am I to understand that the Empassioned Peoples have suddenly gone rogue, and are now assassinating foriegn leaders, regardless of the fact that their actions would would bring their destruction? I just don't see how any government would do that. If it was an Empassioned Peoples citizen who did this, it's a criminal act, but this," The President looked at the satellite pictures still on the table. "This is the destruction of an entire nation. I just feel like we've been handed a jigsaw puzzle, and all of the pieces fit together, but the bloody picture makes no damned sense."

"My analists would concur with that statement," The TIA Director added.

"Alright." The President let out a deep breath. "From now on, this is priority one."

"Yes sir. You do realize we will have to shift intelligence assets from other areas."

"Yeah, that's fine. A revolt here, a revolt there... those situations will resolve themselves, and the world will go on. This is a dramatic shift in world power, and who knows what ramifications will come out of this. Wendell, I want to impose sanctions on both Wolfish and Hatchibombitar."

"Sanctions, sir?" Head of Staff Wendell Borton was taken off-guard by this. Tiboritian foriegn policy rarely tried to step on peoples toes, especially when those toes are attached to nations of such power. But he allowed way to much surprise to be in his voice, and he quickly tried to cover that up. "Uh, yeah. Sure. Um, I can have an executive order for you today."

"I was thinking of putting it up for a vote in the Senate. How much support do you think we would get?"

Wendell sat up in his chair. It was clear to him now that the President was out to grab some political capital. "Uh, well of course the party would support you. For that matter, I'm sure the whole left will support you. Ellis will try to gather opposition to you, but I doubt many in the Pastor Union will want to oppose you now. I can make some calls to make sure everyone is on board."

"Do that. And I'll want to address the Senate. Get Sidney working on draft."

"Yes, sir." The President was after quite a big grab. "You'll have a rough draft this afternoon."

"Okay, what's next?"

"Well sir, we are sill monitoring the situation in..."

The Op Centre, Palavia

Defense Minister Sistrunk understood the power of computers to make data say whatever one wanted it to say. This so-called “proof” from Empassioned Peoples about the grain freighter was no exception. “How stupid do they think the world is?” he muttered rhetorically. Reaching for the phone he pressed the direct line button to Clayton’s office and launched in without preamble or greeting: “Sally, give me a good digital video editing studio and I can make any tape say anything. They didn’t even bother to wipe the enhancement marks. We’ve got tape of the Excalibur sinking from Stalwart, they recorded the whole thing. There is no question that this was an impact collision and sinking.”

Outside Imperial Harbor

The RIB’s cast off at 2:00 am, and swiftly slipped away towards the looming coastline. Five teams in five boats was a lot, but they had a lot of coastline to reconnoiter and report on. Team 1 would assess the bay south of Northpoint, it had the looks of an ideal amphibious assault point but only boots in the sand would tell that. Team 2 was responsible for the docks at Waterway, they would need to be secured and held undamaged in the days and weeks ahead. Teams 3, 4, and 5 were responsible for the remaining eastern shore of Imperial Harbor; Admiral Clark would let no ship sail south until he knew what might be faced. Wolfish Arsenal ships could do the heavy lifting of shoreline pacification if the Seal teams determined it would be necessary.

Aboard HRMS Badger

”Sir, we’ve detected something out there, about 60 miles off, running high and stealthy. We don’t know what it is, but sea terns don’t fly that high. It’s vague and it’s intermittent, but there’s something up there.” Clark turned to face the ensign “Good job, sailor. Tell Cheetah to get some planes up there, authorization is to identify and neutralize with prejudice! Get Thorson on the horn and notify him we may have company, too.”

Niue Airbase, Hatchibombitarian Hangar Area

Three B-2 bombers sat on the runway, their dull black fuselages outlined by a single dimly sputtering sodium streetlight. Their charge was clear, no usable trace of the airport in Patriot City was to be left undamaged. The AC-130 gun ships would follow behind, chewing up any building, structure, vehicle or person left behind.

"Ah, sir, we're picking up some incoming fighters from the Cheetah..."

The Major swore as he looked at the radar, confirming his fears. The main doors were still open, and that was just as well, because he needed what was inside those doors...

"Prepare Screaming Meemie launch."

"Confirm that, cycling Screaming Meemie to launch position."

In the bay doors, the revolving bomb carriers turned as the side with two miniature cruise missiles hung over the ocean. Each had radio frequency jammers, and would create radar signatures the size of an incoming bomber fleet. The two miniature craft popped down, releasing their stubby wings as they flew away from the fleeing bomber. If these didn't work, they had 4 "Coffin Nail" MREMs to engage anything that got too close.

Freetown, Argyllian capital

The PM was about to make the biggest decision of his life in the next seconds, all the MP's spread out before him in the historic Hampton House (Argyllian parliamentary building).

'Today is not a day to hide and not a day to run. Today is our time to stand up, to fight for justice, peace and prosperity. I will not let this noble country stand by while another equally proud and couragous nation is attacked unfairly for a crime they did not commit. Therefore I propose to take this country to a war that may be long, costly and bloody but it is just.'

The MP's stood up and cheered their PM off the stage no-one would oppose a speach like that, the MP's went out into the bar and over a few drinks discussed the plans for war and what affect the war would have on Argyllia.

Emergency Room, PM's residence

The PM walked into the room filled with the close trusted friends that had surrounded him for the 7 years of his administration. Important characters

Forgein Minister- Harold Frillworth
Chancellor- Jonathan Darlington
Minister of Defence- Harry Smith
Chief of Imperial Staff- Field Marshall Sir Godferry Wellington

PM- 'We have several important issues to discuss and I want nothing to go beyond the constraits of this table. First of all our economy is it stable in his time of economic uncertainty?'

C- 'The quick answer is yes, I believe we are fairly safe as we grow all our food in country and the gold and silver mines in the Franco mountain range will not run out for decades providing our currency with a safe base. Our trade is very important but this warzone can be skirted by our freighters so losses will be minimised.'

PM- 'Now to diplomatic relations with Hatch and Wolfish, we have never really been close to them apart from the occasional trade pact and normal stuff and the same can be said for EP. What should our response be?

FM- 'Break all contact with enemy nations, cease trade and so on. That would be the first action next we could ask other nations to boycott their products and stop trading. Negociations are not possible with these nations they are already engaged in all out war and can not stop.'

PM- 'What should be our armed response?'

MD- 'Our forces are streched pretty thin at the moment, 2nd CBG and 1st AAG are deployed to the Midway operation but are now disengaging after heavy losses. Th carrier Jutland is still afloat after taking missile hits and Picton is towing her back to the Manilla Dockyard. On alert for immeadiate response are The Guards Corps, 1 Corps, 1st CBG, 1st SCBG, 3rd AAG, 1 Group, 2 Group, 3 Group, 12 Group and 15 Group. I propose to send 1st CBG, 1st SCBG and 3rd AAG in a naval Task force to the battle area and ask EP to let us use some airbases in their country.'

FM- 'I'll get a message to them now' he runs off to the cummunication room.

PM- 'Meeting closed we will continue tomorrow after the Task Force has set sail'

CIS- 'The task force will be named Sabre'

CEG-3 Frigate STS Leviticus, 75 km NNE. of Portsmouth, EP

“Sir, we’re starting to pick up signs of wreckage. It looks to be mostly aircraft. SAR helos report no survivors as of yet,” Ensign Tiel reported.

“OK Ensign, instruct the whirlies to keep up SAR patterns. I want constant rotation between the Leviticus and the Levi Two. Any response from Empassioned Peoples on our looped broadcast? We’re getting awfully close to EP waters,” Captain Zhang said.

“That’s a negative, Captain.”

“Keep the loop going, then. Broaden the broadcast to let those Wolfish ships know we’re neutral right now. I don’t want a Harpoon up my ass,” Captain Zhang said.

“Aye, Captain,” Ensign Tiel replied.

Seaman Ogeff leaned forward a bit when she saw trailing blips coming up at the edge of her radar screen. She let the display spin twice more before running the comparison through the computer.

“Sir, I have bogies on the screen coming in from the northwest bearing 165. Looks to be heading towards EP shores… possible strike group… moving fast. No deviation towards us as of yet,” Seaman Ogeff said.

Captain Zhang came to the radar console. “Dammit, those paths take them too close to us. Helm, set course for zero-niner-five. Set speed 15 knots. I want to parallel that coastline a bit and get some distance from those craft. Keep us out of EP waters, we don’t have a reply from them yet… Seaman Ogeff, keep your eyes on those strikers. The first sign of deviation, you let me know… Ensign Tiel, send a situation report to Naval Command at Fang-Ti.”

The whine of the engines intensified as the Leviticus began its turn and acceleration from the oncoming fighters.

The PL looked at the reports from his office in the capital building, they gave him hope yet at the same time they dismayed him. They’d been receiving favorable transmissions for awhile now, yet they d no ability to reply. They were broadcasting on shortwave radio but that would not reach the Shang-ti fleet unless the had some form of receiver within 10 Km of the shore, he didn’t hold out hope for that. He’d ordered the construction of a temporary satcomm uplink in Miner’s Haven yet it’d take time to build and calibrate. He simply hoped that his poor country would hold out under this punishment.
“Sir.” The PL was startled by the officer that appeared beside him, military personal had gotten out of the habit of knocking in the last few days, it didn’t bother him if it was urgent.
“Yes?”
“We’ve dismantled the aircraft that landed in Patriot City awhile ago, they’re all on a train to Miner’s Haven. We took every precaution, there was no time when they could’ve been spotted.”
“Excellent and my underground rail access is fully prepped for when the bombing here gets too bad?”
“Yessir the presidential train is ready to go, its idling.”

The PL went back to his reports, though they all seemed to be lacking in the plan for the future dept. *sigh*

Task Force Sabre assembled 15nm north of Argyllia, it was the biggest task force Argyllia had ever put to sea and the powerfullest. The two 100,000 ton carriers formed the core of the fleet, each had over 80 aircraft onboard including 60 F-35's each. When the ships where all at their stations they fired up engines and incresed speed to 28 knots. They would get to 300km west of EP in around 4 RL days, time enough to do battle excersises and train green sailors.

Task Force Sabre

Admiral Sir Samuel Welford surveyed his glourious fleet from the bridge of HMAS Waterloo, he untill recently had been in charge of the Home Fleet. He had only once been concerned in that position once, when a possible threat to Argyllia had been made. Thankfully the now dead Admiral Matthews had averted that possibility by bravely taking on a superior fleet with only 1 Carrier Battle Group.

OOC- details of fleet on OOC section

Niue AFB

The crews worked feverously under the warm yellow lights to load down their bomber wing with MK-62 Quick Strike mines – 52 per plane – carefully loaded onto the wing pods, and filling the bomb bay to capacity.

Within five hours the 10 planes were ready – fuelled and loaded for the flight to Empassioned Peoples.

“Badger Lead – you are cleared to taxi to runway 270.”

“Copy Tower.”

The massive aircraft slowly moved forward from its position at the top of the flight line, ponderously turning onto the taxi way, finally a turn onto the runway.

“Badger Lead to flight. Good luck. Radio silence from here out.”

One by one the pilots pushed the throttle controls to full, and the dark green bombers began rolling – ever faster – down the three-quarter of a kilometer runway.

With a shutter they pulled themselves into the air and climbed slowly to 50,000 feet where they leveled for their mission.

The sun began to slowly rise along the horizon, as the bombers first flew due east, before making a hard turn towards EP along a bearing that would take them directly over Skirmishim, EP.

The GPS navigational controls in the bombers indicated they had reached “Ready Point 1” and the Weapons Control officers on board each prepared to drop their weapons.

Slowly, with a mechanized hum the bomb bays opened, and one-by-one the bombers dropped their loads – multiple lines of overlapping white parachutes temporarily marked the locations of the underwater 500 pound mines.

As their bomb bays emptied the jets turned for home – the last bombers within clear view of the shoreline before the last of their weapons were dropped.

Finally, they too turned and began the flight back home.

Over 50,000 feet below them, 520 mines now protected the Wolfish fleets from vessels approaching from the west.

Battleship Arrow, Scorpius BG, 30 km North of Powerpoint
“FIRE”

The 16” guns roared – spewing tongues of flame into the pre-dawn darkness.

“Target Bunker, grid 54, range 3006 metres.”

“Aye – target bunker,” came the reply.

“FIRE.”

The guns roared again – sending a second white cloud of gas drifting behind the battleship.

In front and behind the mighty ship, two other battleships continued to fire at inland targets – using a combination of armour piercing rounds to penetrate hardened structures, and bombardment high-explosive shells to blow apart “soft” targets.

Shell after shell was launched from the 27 big guns aligned along the EP coast – guided by a UAV gliding high over Power Point – feeding targeting information to the gunners on board the three ships.

“Captain – getting visuals on a communications tower – probably a receiver from the looks of it.”

“Good. Feed it into the system.”

Within five minutes – the tower had passed through the system, and was assigned to the Jenkins – the forward ship in the deployment.

The guns roars – and three bombardment rounds landed seconds later within metres of the tower.

The gunners mate watched the feed from the drone as the steel tower – its legs cut out from under it – toppled to the ground.

Battle Group Thorson, Command meeting, Admiral’s Briefing Room

“The Arrow, the Jenkins and the Waterloo are off-shore here,” the Lieutenant said pointing at the small plastic battleships on the map. “Alfa and Thorson are here, of course. Scoripus is still forward, coming along the coastline, hitting targets of opportunity. And Remus is hanging back with the supply ships and the RO/ROs.”

“Thank you Lieutenant. You can leave us now.”

“Aye Admiral,” he said, as he turned and left.

“Gentlemen – I spoke with General Blackstone this morning and he has authorized Operation Marathon.”

Several of the command staff looked up at their senior colleague – waiting for the details.

“Operation Marathon is the code name for our run to the Patriot City – and the seat of government in EP.”

He stood and walked to the map table.

Tomorrow morning Scorpius will land troops West of Powerpoint, along this coast – while WASPs from Thorson, and Alfa will motor in to land on the bay-side of the base.

Battleships will provide cover fire for anything or anyone trying to approach from the south – while our arsenal ships will begin to target military barracks, government buildings and will hit rail lines and bridges a second time.

As the WASPs move in towards Power Point – Remus will escort the RO/ROs towards the city – maintaining a safe distance until the port is secured. Questions?”

“Admiral, what’s the next step after we capture Powerpoint?”

“We will literally dash to the capital – with aerial drops of supplies along the way – with an armoured regiment. Within two weeks we’ll own EP.”

The group instantly began talking amongst themselves – “The logistics are going to be tricky.” “I hope we can get the carriers in close enough to give close air support.” “Have the battleships enough shells to get them through?” “I hope Hatchibombitar can keep up on the other side of the bay!”

The fleet admiral leaned back in his chair. His fellow commanders would calm down soon, then he could address all their concerns.

Meanwhile, the fleet Captain in charge of supply stood on the bridge – his brow creased and his binoculars pressed tight to his face.

Through the lenses he watched as another supply ship pulled up along a frigate – the process would go all night – the Admiral had ordered all bunkers topped up – full munitions loads on all ships – and as many wounded evacuated to Niue as possible. He – like all good logistics officers – was the first to know that tomorrow would bring more fighting.

http://www.fas.org/man/dod-101/sys/ship/aor-1-DNST8710135_JPG.jpg

CEP command Patriot City

The PL continued his work, allocating relief workers here, moving key industries further south. Anything he could do to ease the suffering of his people. What he read dismayed him. Heavy bombards in major cities casualties mounting. It seemed with the military gone a ground the Wolfish fleets were becoming more indiscriminate in their target choices. The PL came across another sheet marked classified, seems as though that was all he looked at nowadays. It was a status report that read something to the effect of this, all fighter/bomber class aircraft moved to beta site. Remaining alpha site defences; 30 apaches in underground hangers. * please note that preparation time from cold to air is now in excess of 8 hours due to security of location from bombardment, though drills continue to remove excess time. 10,500 active troops have begun taking fortified positions in civilian structures in preparation for the defence of alpha site. The civil militia 100 000 strong, which is occupied in relief tasks, cannot be armed or mobilized with any hope for a successful outcome other than that of utilization in a supporting role.
Recommendations; A tactical nuclear strike on the island of Niue to avoid what is now seen as and inevitable invasion.
The PL scratched his brow and began to scribble on the report, “Recommendation denied due to nuclear proliferation policies. Please cease suggesting this and come up with some non-nuclear alternative.” With a sigh the PL stamped the pen scratch and dropped it into a large brown envelope with the seal of the PL’s office emblazed upon it. Leaning back in his chair the PL held his hands to his temples, “Dammit surely it has not come to that.” With that the PL turned on a recorded broadcast about the civilian riots in Skirmish, Portsmouth and Inland Port. The radio made a lot of static but it was simply the most reliable transmissions available until Farpoint could bring it’s new comms units online. With a chuckle he thought, ‘Enemy at the gates and angry peasants within.’

Wolfish, Wolfish

*A young female news report – broadcasting from a sidewalk in the downtown core of Wolfish. A large pile of debris and tires burn behind her, filling the air with black smoke*

We’re here at the corner of Manhattan and Broadview – the heart of the Wolfish financial district – where 10 protestors have just died in a hail of bullets.

*a previously recorded clip appears on the screen. Protestors lined up against black-outfitted riot police behind Plexiglas shields*

It is estimated that some 2,000 out-of-work business people began marching towards the city centre – where the President’s office and various government operations are located.

But, the Wolfish police forces had other ideas – at this point – it appears that the police attempted to direct the crowd to one of the city’s parks…and that’s when things got ugly.

*the continuing clip shows a mounted police unit charging the crowd, blocking their access to the government complex – the crowd parted under the onslaught – but then quickly formed up around the horses and pulled the riders from their mounts.*

From there – the situation quickly progressed.

*The camera switches back to the news reporter*

While our cameras did not capture the police attack that followed – we have verified that ten protestors were killed in the resulting hail of bullets as the riot police attempted to retrieve the mounted patrol.

At this time the police have not confirmed that number – nor have they said if any officers were hurt.

But we do know that this situation is not over.

As you can see behind me – the protestors lit a number of fires – both on the street – and in several office towers.

Firefighters have not been able to dispatch crews to put out the flames – as police have declared this zone – this area of violence – unsafe for civilians.

*Shot ring out – the camera is jostled – the reporter first crouches and looks up, then falls backward out of the camera’s view. A males voice can be heard.”

“Oh shit – Elizabeth…”

*The camera is set down sideways on the sidewalk – giving a partial view of the reporters legs as she lies prone on the ground.*

“Elizabeth – can you hear me?”

*Sounds of shuffling through things*

“Hello – Hello 911? Yes – I’m at the corner of Broadview and Manhattan – my..my partner’s been shot.” *Pause* “What do you mean you can’t send anyone? She’s dying.”

*the camera goes black*

Wolfish Defense Command, Blackstone’s Office

“So you can see Sir – our concerns about the domestic situation are very real. We recommend a multi-pronged approach to heading off further violence.”

“And just what is the approach Major?”

“Sir. We recommend first, declare a state of martial law. That suspends the constitution for a period defined by you. It has the benefit of allowing us to call in the military to quell these riots – but perhaps more importantly – it gives you virtually unlimited authority in Todler’s absence.”

“Alright – then what” asked the General.

“With the military in place in Wolfish, Camden and Bayview – we will effectively end this violence – it will also give us a reason to impose rationing of key supplies – fuel – steel – aluminum... The third prong is to get people back to work…”

With that Blackstone looked intently at the Major.

“Sir – if we can get people working – whether or not they are getting paid – whether or not its their “normal” job – we can keep them from protesting – keep them from wasting our resources.”

“You’re talking about forced labour Major – won’t that just cause more riots.”

“No sir. We’ll use a carrot and stick approach. If the Wolfish people are one thing its industrious – well that and greedy. So we’ll play to those characteristics – we will tell them that for each hour they work, they’ll receive government credit. They get to contribute to the recover – we give them a worthless piece of paper – or something akin to it. We’ll reward their efforts with food or a voucher for gas – something like that.”

“Alright,” said Blackstone. “And while we’re at it, call up some of the Home Guard – we don’t need them, but if we mobilize it’ll get them working as well….get them on shore patrols, guarding the TAL-4 prison – watching the hydro dams…that kind of thing.”

“A very good idea Sir. We’ll mobilize 3 divisions to start.”

“Anything else?”

“We’ve heard from Battle Group Thorson. She’s in position – the amphibious assault will begin in about 5 hours. The damaged ships and the Alfa carrier are heading to Wolfhair Island for repairs and new crews – they should be home in six days.”

“Very good. Type up a message from me to be read to the invasion force prior to them landing.”

“Yes Sir.”

Task Force Sabre

The Leading ships where the frigates HMAS Anchor and HMAS Ardent these workhorses of the fleet where scanning the air for possible threats, what they picked up was a confused dogfight involving 100's of planes. They could pick out EP's A-10's and the larger bombers heading towards the EP coast. What they weren't concerntrating on was the sea ahead and what was underneath it.

Suddenly the SONAR opperator shouted 'Mines, hundreds of them'
But it was too late a huge explosion rocked Ardent as she hit a mine, it shunted the ship fully 20 feet backwards and shattered the front of the hull. The crew went straight to damage control stations and started the long fight to keep the ship afloat. 30 men where killed or wounded in the explosion 20% of the ships crew where now casulties. Again the efficent Argyllian crew went to their duties and fought to keep their ship afloat.

The Anchor's captain screamed for the engineers to reverse the engines and the ships jet propulsion immeaditly changed direction, but not quick enough. This time the mine struck the port bow and created a 6 foot hole in the hull and seawater began to pour in at an alarming rate. The watertight doors where shut, this isolated the front quarter of the ship and condemmed 23 men to death.

The bridge of HMAS Waterloo

Admiral Sir Samuel Welford looked into the distance, two grey stacks of smoke rose into the cloudless sky on the horizon. 53 casulties in less than 10 minutes, 2 ships uncapable of offensive action, they would have to be towed back to Argyllia it was a miracle neither had sunk. Thank God they had practiced their damage control on the voyage up to EP.

'Contact the Admiralty ask for a minesweeper squadron, tell them I'am stuck 300km west of EP by a massive minefield and that 2 ships are severly damaged and need a major refit. Also I need confirmation that I can take retaliatory action against the people who planted the mines'

'Yes, sir'

'Get a couple of submarines to start mapping the field for the sweepers, I want 5 channels through this field inside 2 weeks. Get 2 squadrons of F-35's in the air 100km infront of the fleet on the highest alert'

'Yes, sir'

Freetown Air Force Base

All of Argyllia's 36 B-52H bombers where based at this airbase and because of the recent tentions off the coast of EP they where on the highest alert possible. After the 2 frigates had hit mines 300km from the warzone they had been ordered to have a squadron (12 planes) ready to take off inside 30 minutes. The techniciations had uploaded the maximum 20 missiles of the advanced AGM-86D CALCM.

'Sir FLASH traffic for CO's eyes only' the young radio operator squeaked

'Ok, let me see' Wing Commander Smith said and walked briskly over to the operators desk

'Holy shit' he exclaimed as he got to the meaning of the letter 'Scramble 2 Squadron, we will upload mission details during their flight time'

'Yes, sir' his 2 ic said with relish

The B-52's faced a 10,000 mile round trip and would need to be refueled twice with their heavy weapons load. One by one they left the airforce base and went to 40,000 feet. The strike leader was Harry Gibson and promising pilot who had just made Squadron leader and this was his first combat sortie. The bombers glided over the endless Ocean only changing course when two KC-130's refueled the planes one by one. They where being fed a radar picture of the Wolfish Fleet by a Merlin AEW which was operating off HMAS Waterloo, on their radar they could see 4 or 5 Battleships close to the shore evidently bombarding it and logistic ships behind. This was the picture that Welford had seen and formulated his battle plan around.

The B-52's continued their flightpath untill thy where 700km away from the Thorson Bombardment group and then they launched, it took 20 minutes to get all 20 of the CALCM's airborne and targeting the ships. 240 of these missiles sailed serenly through the sky, their target priority list showed that the battleships where the primary targets with the Ro-Ro ships a secondary target. It was hoped that these missiles would catch the Wolfish fleet unaware bas they where expecting a Naval attack.

30 mins before the B-52's launched a decoy attack was launched by the remaining 3 frigates of 6th Frigate Squadron they each fired 4 long range Harpoon sea-skimming missiles at the Ro-Ro ships whose light hulls wounld be penetrated by the Harpoons small warhead. As the attack went in the Fleet went to high alert and the Air Defence Cruisers scanned the sky for the expected counter attack. In other news the Minesweeper squadron is expected in around 2 days time.

Scorpius Battleship Taskforce, CIC Arrow, 25 km North of Power Point

The sixteen inch guns roared again – and three shell rocketed towards shore with a shrill whistle that would make battle tested veterans cower in fear.

The XO swept the deck with his binoculars – ensuring that all hatches were still tight – the three great warships had been pounding the shore for almost twenty four hours – and the stress on the ships couldn’t be underestimated.

“Sir – Thorson radar is reporting incoming bombers – bearing 270.”

“Alright – lets secure from bombardment and prepare air-defense teams.”

“Aye Sir….Sir there is more - - - VAMPIRES – INBOUND from the Argyllian fleets – counting…12 missiles Sir.”

“Course?”

“Missiles are on a heading of - - 91 degrees - - They are targeting the RO/RO.”

“Jesus…Very well – get the Captain to the bridge – Helm set course 000 – I want us to be broadside to the threat bearing (AYE SIR). Radar – keep and eye on those bombers – and tell Thorson to get some assets in the air (Thorson – this is – All Aegis systems to auto. (Aegis systems to Auto Sir!).”

The Captain walked onto the bridge and noted the activity. Without interrupting he walked to his XO, “What’s the situation?”

“Sir – we have unidentified planes – likely bombers coming in over the top of EP – the Argyllian fleet has just launched 12 missiles targeting the RO/ROs. I’ve ordered us broadside to the threat access.”

“Good work,” said the young captain, “Missile control – you are free to fire on target – keep your finger close to the destruct – we’ve got the Scorpius fleet and the Remus fleet damned close to the threats.”

“Aye Sir. Sea Sparrows armed and locked – firing – now.now.now.”

http://www.fas.org/man/dod-101/sys/missile/rim-7-sten-ssp-s.jpg

After the concussions of the 16 inch main guns firing – the launch of the 500 pound Mach 4 missiles was barely noticeable in the heavily armoured CIC.

Eight missiles fled the ship in quick succession – followed closely by eight from the other two battleships in the group.

At Mach 4 – heading almost straight on to the incoming missiles – also traveling at supersonic speed – the time to impact was incredibly short.

The Sea Sparrow was perfect for this mission – once it detected that it was within metres of its target – its warhead would explode – creating a cloud of jagged steel 5 metres wide – the enemy missile would shed itself flying through.

Which is exactly what happened six seconds after launch – “SIR! Contact – Sea Sparrows have blown – still tracking seven Vampires.”

Battlegroup Scorpius, 60 km NNW of Powerpoint

“Sir – Incoming Harpoons – they’ll pass just north of us.”

“Take’em out.”

“Aye Sir. Frigate Ivanhoe – mark threat and weapons free.”

*Over the radio*
“Copy Command, we are painting 7 vampires – we just had a very exciting fly by of 16 Sparrows – Okay – threats are too close for missiles – using point defenses as they pass.”

*Sound of Phalanx systems firing*

“Command – Ivanhoe – we tagged two. They’re out of range of us now.”

Remus Battlegroup

The radios in the command centre were painting a detailed picture of the situation – the missiles were inbound for the ship currently floating in the middle of his fleet – Scorpius had done their best…but ultimately it would come down to the defense systems of his battlegroup.

In a surreally calm voice the Captain said, “Alright Mister – Sparrows away.”

“Aye Sir – launching Sea Sparrows on bearing 270.”

The frigates, cruisers and destroyer of the Remus group – each fired – putting forward a wall of steel and high explosive for the threats to pass through – four incoming Harpoons exploded and splashed into the ocean 500 metres from the outer perimeter – but one slipped through the defense – plotting its way past the first frigate – and into the heart of the fleet.

“Sir – one Vampire still on course for the RO/RO.”

RO/RO Vanhouten

Sam Peters was not sure what he thought about all this yammering and warring – but, as a civilian crewman on board a Wolfish Defense pre-positioned ship, he was paid a princely sum to do very little work.

He moved through the cavernous hold of the ship – starting tank engines – checking for leaks – making sure tie-down chains were tight – and more often than not – ensuring he got a nap at least once a day.

Today was a little different – the pace had picked up with the ship preparing to off load onto hostile territory.

Sam climbed into the third tank of the morning – oblivious to the action happening in the seas around the ship – and started the engine.

The Main battle tank roared to life – blowing deadly exhaust out through the hose attached to the exhaust.

Sam let it idle, and climbed back out through the hatch.

He tilted his head to once side – he though he’d heard something – sounded like a chain saw – but then it stopped.

He climbed down the front slope of the tank – and slipped over the edge – he’d check to make sure nothing was leaking – then maybe he’d get his nap.

Unaware that a few metres above – the Phalanx gun that was supposed to protect him from the enemy had jammed – unaware that at that very moment – a missile was targeting the hull of the freighter and within seconds he’d be dead.

He bent down – shining his flashlight onto the belly of the tank as the missile hit.

Steel turned to liquid as the Harpoon sliced through the unarmoured hull – its warhead intact until it contacted the heavy armour of the tank.

The detonation separated the turret from the body of the tank – throwing shrapnel against the lines of armour and vehicles in the hold.

Sam died as the tank broke loose from its chains, and the floor below gave way, collapsing one vehicle onto the top of the one below.

One the bridge the Captain ordered fire suppression teams into the hold – luckily the vehicles were not loaded down with extra ammunition – only what was stored in their fire-resistant ammo boxes.

Within hours the fire was out – but unloading the huge vessel would now be much more difficult with the damage and disorder below.

Thorson Command

“Sir – the Vanhouten has been hit.”

“What’s her condition?”

“Fires below decks – a four metre hole in the side – no casualty figures yet – She’ll sail – but no word yet on the condition of her cargo.”

“Alright – monitor the situation. I’ve got to get on the phone with Blackstone.”

Arrow Battleship, off Powerpoint

“SIR – Incoming missiles – looks like a launch from the bombers – count in excess of 200!”

“Hard about – come to heading 090 – and get the Sparrow launchers reloaded.”

“AYE SIR! All Hand – Remain at General Quarters – New Inbounds bearing 180 – Munitions teams to reload all launchers.”

It was an agonizing 10 minutes while the crews worked feverously to reload the missile defense system – all the while the radar operator was glued to his screen.

Behind him the Captain was on the radio with Thorson, “Sir – We have the track – they came over the top of EP – I’m guessing the Harpoons were to distract us. Yes Sir. I’m lining us up to counter – No Sir. I do understand that we’re in this one alone.”

He hung up the phone, “Thorson will have the combat patrol pursue the bombers – but we’re in this one alone. Are the Sparrows loaded?”

“Yes Sir – and SM2 launchers are locked on.”

“Tell the others to start targeting incoming missiles within a 45 degree approach to their ships.”

“Missiles entering range – 170 km out.”

“Launch SM2s.”

“Launching Sir.”

The first round of missiles blasted from their rails – arcing gracefully away from the ships.

“Fire Two.”

“Aye – All ships – Fire Two.”

Again – tongues of flame kissed the decks – and pushed six more missiles into the air.

“All launchers – maintain maximum sustainable fire.”

“Firing now Sir.”

The massive battleships began to rock as missile after missile blasted off.

Unexpectedly the ship was bathed in the glow of rocket fire from behind – and Arsenal ship from Taskforce Alfa had moved within range and was now firing its huge supply of standard missiles towards the oncoming threats – the Captain’s eyes teared up as he watched dozens of missiles – now flying to protect his ship.

“Radio – thank the Captain of that ship.”

“Aye Sir. I’m on it.”

The battleships quickly ran down their store of SM2s – and seamlessly switched to Sparrows as the missiles drew closer.

“Inbounds now at 60 km – Sparrows are locked on target.”

“Fire when ready.”

“Firing.”

Missile boxes turned and – within seconds – had emptied them deadly cargo.

The incoming tomahawks could now be seen by those aboard the battleships as they exploded in mid-air – leaving shockwaves spreading out across the ocean.

“Prepare Chaff,” called the Captain as another eight missiles fled their boxes.

“Chaff is ready to deploy.”

“Launch”

“Aye – Launching chaff”

With a burst – eight canisters rose and exploded with a pop – spreading a cloud of aluminum.

“Captain – still reading over 50 inbound.”

“Switch to point defenses.”

The Phalanx guns sprung to life – four on each ship began to rip across the waves – seeking to reach out and destroy the missiles.

10 more missiles fell.

“fifteen seconds to impact Captain.”

“Sound collision,” called the Captain as he took his seat.

“Aye – Sounding collision.”

Klaxons began to sound and crew dove for cover as the first missile struck the Arrow.

The huge ship absorbed much of the blast – but a jagged hole opened up on the starboard side, slightly amid ship.

The second missile – less than a second behind – sunk itself deep into the bowels of the engine room before it exploded – its high-explosive warhead puncturing the pressure tubes carrying high-pressure steam from the nuclear reactor to the turbines. Yellow lights and warning bells rang – indicating a radioactive release.

“Shut down protocols Mister Kane.”

“Aye Sir – Shutting down the reactor.”

Missiles four and five hit simultaneously - both slamming into the command structure.

The Baleen Battleship, 4 km east of the Arrow, North of Powerpoint

“Sir the Arrow is burning.”

The Captain didn’t respond – he had troubles of his own. Four missiles had already struck his ship – two exploding in the forward cargo compartment – lighting fires in the heavily armoured ammunition storage unit one.

“Helm – set course 180 – bring her head on – the defenses have done their job – lets lessen our profile.”

“Aye Sir – coming about.”

The ship turned slowly – and even as it turned three more missiles penetrated the armour – blowing massive holes in the sides of the ship – killing dozens in the interior reaches of the vessel.

“Sir – she’s not responding anymore – that last hit busted something.”

The Captain thought, “Well no shit it busted something Seaman.” But he held his tongue.

“Radio – hail Thorson – give them a Sit-Rep.”

“Aye Sir.”

But the call was never made – the 8th missile to hit the Baleen blew directly under the CIC – killing the command crew.

Tiger Battleship, 4 km West of Arrow, north of Powerpoint

The situation was dire – no few than 12 missiles had slammed into the battleship – yet her Phalanx continued to fire – blowing missiles apart seconds before they’d add to the already heavily damaged battleship.

But its fate was sealed when three missiles broke the armoured shell along the waterline – smashing three watertight compartments.

The ship began to list – taking on thousands of litres of seawater.

“All hands abandon ship.”

Crew man dropped their fire hoses, ammunition, or whatever else they were carrying to make a dash for the lifeboats lined up along the deck.

It was becoming impossible to distinguish one blast from the next – missile after missile slammed into the ship.

In the distance fireballs could be seen where the other two great battleships burned and fought.

Within seven hours – all three ships would be on the bottom – but each would go into history for the valiant battle they fought – 6,000 lives against an onslaught of over 200 missiles.

Carter looked at the tarp over the highway. They’d put it up a few hours ago and all was still well, no one would be the wiser from the air and only a ground survey would give any indication of the activity going on. The tarp matched the color of the highway and the stripes down the middle were even painted on it. It was a truly professional job and Carter was proud of it. The highway system had been abandoned since the outlawing of personal automobiles but it was still in good shape, well enough for their purposes. The tarp was nearly 200kms of joined sections, allowing the transport trucks to come in from New Toledo without being spotted. You wouldn’t think it’d be such a bother to hide the trucks but in this war their mission was a precious one, with all the airstrips in the northern part of the country devastated an alternative needed to be found, and this was it. A completely un-spot able, from air, airbase was constructed without alerting anyone. The planes were gassed and sitting on the makeshift tarmac incase they needed to be called, soon to be completely reassembled from their trip as freight. Carter walked over to the booth at the side of the highway, he hated using a phone both on an army base but a local area ground cable was the only was they could stop air pollution via radio waves. Picking up the phone he spoke,

“Carter to spotters how she be?”
“This is spotter control, other than the unidentified bombers we had visual on a while back we’re still good.”
“Copy, Here’s hoping the weather doesn’t turn eh? Wickam come in.” after a pause a voice replied to that
“Wickam here sir.”
“Good, how are the patriots coming?”
“They’re wired for sound but sir, we will lose our cover if any of them fires.”
“I know, which is why we aren’t going to fire them unless needed. Carter out.”

Thinking to himself as he walked to the motor pool Carter was chagrined by his own thoughts. ‘This is odd warfare. I understand secrecy, that much I learned in the civil war, but we never had to covertly convert a highway to a hidden airfield. Course back then we never had the planes to hide. Regardless, I’m still sleeping in tunnels.’ Looking over his should Carter looked at the unassuming highway culvert that has become the entrance to what was hoped to be the new HQ. ‘Hmph, the military’s HQ, a broken culvert that leads to a muddy cavern that has to be evaced now and again because the fumes from excavating would choke a yak.’

/placeholder text/

Wolfish Combat Air Patrol – EP Airspace, off North coastline

Captain Mackenzie checked his speed as he undocked from the fuel hose hanging behind the Common Support Aircraft.

“Thanks Tango 2-4, I’m reading full tanks here.”

“Copy that Bobcat.”

Mackenzie – Mac to his fellow naval aviators – pushed his stick over, dropping down 2 thousand feet – just high enough so he could see all four Wolfish carriers – Scorpius in close to shore to the west – Thorson and Alfa further north – and Remus steaming toward’s EP at full speed.

As far as combat situations go, this was a pretty save war zone – four carriers – each with four F-18s airborne at all times…16 serious warplanes armed to the teeth patrolling a few thousand square miles…it didn’t get much safer.

“Patrol Flight Thorson, be advised, radar tracking in-bound Bears at 180. We are also tracking missile launches from enemy ships bearing 270. Come to course 180 and intercept bombers.”

“Copy that Big Bird,” he said to the circling CSA-Surveillance patrol. “Flight – Lead – come right to 180 and throttle up. We have inbound Bears.”

The four F-18s went to afterburning – accelerated past Mach 1.5 while climbing to 50,000 feet.

The other three flights formed up as well – spacing the flights 30 km apart.

Within seconds the planes were “feet dry” over enemy territory and were within minutes of intercepting the targets.

“CAP flights – this is Thorson command. We are now tracking launches from the bombers – cruise missiles are inbound for the Arrow battleship group.”

Mac keyed his radio. “Thorson this is Bobcat lead. Copy that. Inbound missiles. We are 5 minutes from range.” He flipped the switch to his flight frequency, “Alright team. Arm Slammers.”

The pilots dutifully armed the missiles – and check that they were linked to the targeting source – in this case Mac’s radar signal – which would allow each pilot to target a different bomber on the first launches.

“Jesus – look at that…”

Below the fighters – a seemingly endless stream of cruise missiles flying gracefully towards the Wolfish battleships.

“Concentrate boys – that’s not our mission. We’re coming up on range.”

Brief seconds past as the pilots selected their targets – the massive bombers providing more than enough radar return to lock from max range.

“FIRE!”

Missiles fell from each plane – drifting for a millisecond before the engines ignited – hurtling away from the fighters at Mack 3.

Mac selected the next target - firing without pause. And again – squeezing off four missiles before he looked up to realize he could now make out the bombers in the distance.

“Mac…They’ve stopped dropping missiles. They emptied their bays.”

“Never mind – let’s just make sure they can’t come back.

Two more missiles leapt from Mac’s rails.

“I’m down to one – Save your last missile for wounded bombers – lets make sure they can’t get home.”

Finally the fighters emptied their missile rails – and turned back north – following the path of the tomahawks which were now slamming into the three battleships.

“Jesus – will you look at that?” exclaimed one pilot as they flew over the scene. “She mustof taken a dozen hits.”

“Mother of God…”

“I’ll kill the bastard…”

“Okay guys – lets get on the carrier – get rearmed and see if they’ll let us go after the S-O-Bs.”

1st Bomber Squadron, over Empassioned People

'Last missile fired, heading for home' the last pilot in the formation said into his small radion.

'Well done boys, now lets get home' commander of 1BS happily said over inter comm.

'I've got contacts, their on our 6. Looks like fighters their closing fast. I'am turning on jamming equipment' called the last pilot

With that all of the B-52's turned on their powerful electronic warfare suits and began to transmit. About 2 minutes later the first missiles left the fighters and raced towards the retreating bombers.

'We've got missiles, lots of missiles. Jesus Christ theirs hundreds of them,'

'Split, perform manoveur X-Ray, now' 6 B-52's dived for the ground while 6 rose steeply. The manoveur was desgined to confuse missiles but in the squadron commanders panic he had performed it just too early and only a few missiles where decoyed. The lower B-52's descended to 100ft and began dispensing chaff and flares.

'Deploy decoys, now'

'its not doing anything, the missiles are right up our ass' screamed a frightened WSO

'Perform violent manouveurs'

The first missiles reached them about 2 minutes after launch, the trailing B-52 was being tracked by no fewer than 5 of the Air-Air missiles, 3 blew up perfectly vectoring their 5 ft square wall of steel into the aircraft, the remaining two actuallly failed to explode but just plowed into the plane, no-one saw a parachute jump out as the flame ridden bomber tumbled majestically to its death in the green fields of Empassioned People. 3 of the other aircraft where knocked out the sky by multiple missile hits and only 4 parachutes where seen to get out of them. 1 of the remaining two was badly damaged and forced to crash land.

'Engines 1,4 and 7 gone were going down, prepare for crash landing,' the pilot eyed a field that looked pretty flat, he used the limited contol he had over the aircraft to align it with the field and slow it down before they hit the field with an almighty crash. The B-52 listed too one side putting all its considerable wait onto the left wing which snapped like a twig leaving a jagged 10ft long wing. 10 yards infront of a small collection of trees the plane came to a rest, 1 member of the crew was dead his safety belt had failed and he had been flung around the compartment like a rag doll but the others had been more fortunate and where uninjured.

The last bomber had thought it had got away when 6 missiles appeared on its tail, sololy directed at that bomber, the missiles gained on the bomber very quickly and smashed it to bits the old airframe not built to withstand some of the punishment being handed out by the over whelming counter attack. No parachutes would come out of this one.

Th story was much the same for the higher group, 4 of the bombers where shot down by the intial attack, they stood no chance really they had done their job by launching their missiles but without a fighter escort they where always going to suffer heavily after they where discoved. The last 2 bombers of the strike force where targetted by 8 missiles.

'These are the last ones, lets not die now' shouted the squadron leader miracously still alive. This time the manoveur worked, one broke right the other went left and 4 missiles carried straight on past and where too far away to reaquire the bombers when they realised they didn't have them. But still 6 missiles came 5 targetted the left bomber and predictabley tore it to pieces just leaving a lump of scrap metal in the air by the time they had finished with the bomber. The remaining B-52 was hit in a pair of engines with the last missile which caused a fire, he fire was automatially put out and the B-52 began its long limp home.

11 B-52's shot down
24 men got out
31 men are dead
1 bomber is limping home

OOC- objections on OOC thread

Freetown, Argyllia- War Conference

The PM had just heard of the sucessful attack upon the Ro/Ro ship and Battleships, he couldn't believe that 1,000's of men where dead he kept on reminding himself they deserved it. He had called this meeting barely 3 hours before had but all the Defence chiefs where there as well as the Forgein Minister and Minister of Defence. The subject of the meeting was how to help the beleagured nation of Empassioned People, there was a naval task force but they where to far away really only 1 in 12 missiles got through and they could expect that ration to continue. The Wolfish Fleet would now be wise to the B-52 raid so if that was tried again the bombers would suffer heavily. Another problem was the lack of airbases in EP, the small camoflaged airbase was too small for the Argyllian Air Force to share so a solution was needed.

PM- 'Let me make it clear we will do everything in our power to help these people against their oppressors who have to right to invade their country. I want a way to help them in the defence of their nation from the inevitable invaison which can't be stopped by our fleet due to the minefield. So tell me what can we do?

DM- 'I was given a plan by a Army officer half an hour ago I think we should implement it. The title is Operation FireFly, it involves a airlift operation to the south of the country, which would be 100's of km away from the fighting front and out of radar range of the Wolfish AWAC's and fighter aircraft. The initial insertion would be by a squadron of C-130J's, they will fly low into a field which is a km long and hard, the perfect landing place for the C-130. They would fly low barely 60ft above the ground to make sure that there is no chance of being caught on radar. In the intial airlift 2 Squadrons of the 10th Royal Engineers with 4 of their bulldozers would be loaded onto 4 birds, Also A,B and C companys of the 1st Battlion, The Rifle Regiment (1/RR) with 10 of their Land Defender jeeps will be loaded into 6 of the Hercules to provide defence for he landing zone. On the final 2 planes A Battery of the 4th Ballistic Defence Regiment will be loaded comprising of 8 Patriot missile launchers and the 100 men of the unit to provide air defence. We estimate that the landing site is 600km the coast, this means this will have to be a supply base and when further units arrive they can advance. In two days time we can have 1,000 men on the ground in EP without Wolfish knowing'

PM- 'I like the sound of that plan, give the man a promotion we could do with more like him. Now is it possible to do it and what would follow the intial landings?

AF chief of staff- 'It is certainly possible, we can use the special operations C-130's they have a lower radar signiture because of the radar absorbent paint we painted them with last month. The problem is not getting there, the problem is staying there. As soon as Wolfish find the base they'll just send a strike package over and destroy the runway even though they may lose a few planes to the patriot batterys. We need to get fighter planes there, the A-10's can't operate from a rough field neither can the Eurofighter or Tornado F.3. The only planes we have are the Harrier Gr.9 and Sea Harrier. What I suggest is that with the C-130's we fly in a Squadron of Sea Harriers who have proven themselves very capable in air-air combat, but they won't be able to stand up to the best of modern fighters like the JAS 39 Grippen or the F-18E Super Hornet. They can provide protection for awhile but what we need is a proper concrete runway to operate conventional fighters from. After the base is established we will be able to use more C-130's to ferry troops and supplies there, also from the photo of the field I reckon we can get in 36 VSTOL aircraft untill engineers improve the base.'

Army chief of staff- 'The forces in the operation will be from the 1st Rifles Division (1 RD), they are on the highest alert possible so they can deploy quickly. In the next wave we should bring in the rest of the Engineers, the rest of 1/RR and A Flight of the 11th Army Air Corps Regiment (6 Apache and 8 Lynx), the choppers would have to be packed up to go in the transports and be unpacked the other end. With two lifts a day we can have a combat brigade there in 2 weeks and the whole of 1 RD there in a couple of months. If we can get some of those metal flight pads out there the engineers can build an artificial runway but it would take a long time because of the need to camoflauge everything very well.'

PM- 'I want this modified version of Operation Firefly infront of me in an hour, heres the orginal.' he lobbed the folder on the desk and left the room followed by the Forgein Minister

DM- 'Gentlemen, get to it'

This is what they came up with

Operation FIREFLY

Forces involved in operations

1st, 2nd, 3rd and 4th Transport Squadrons
1st Rifle Division
38th/39th Naval Air Squadrons
3rd and 4th CAS Squadrons

1st Wave

A,B and C Squadrons of 10 RE and their 4 ACE bulldozers on 4 C-130J's from 1/TS
A,B and C companys of 1/RR and 10 Land Defender Jeeps on 6 C-130J's from 1/TS
A Battery of the 4th Ballistic Missile Regiment (A/4 BM) 0n 2 C-130J's from 1/TS
38th/39th Naval Air Squadrons- 12 Sea Harrier Fa.2

2nd Wave- 12 hours after the first

D Squadron of 10 RE and the rest of their equipment on 12 C-130J's from 2/TS
D Company of 1/RR and the rest of their equipment on 12 C-130J's from 3/TS
3rd CAS Squadron

3rd Wave- 36 hours after the first

A/ 11AAC with 6 Apache and 8 Lynx Mk.9 on 7 C-130J's from 4/TS
5 C-130J's from 4/TS with food, water, ammunition and Runway pads
40th Royal Artillery Regiment with 24 155-mm howitzers and 24 6x6 trucks on 12 C-130J's from 1/TS
4th CAS Squadron

4th Wave- 60 hours after the first

Ground Crew of 3 Harrier Squadrons on 12 C-130J's from 2/TS
Remaining Runway pads, aircraft missiles, general supplies and ground radar system on 12 C-130J's from 3/TS

Total men on ground 2 1/2 days after firts lift- 4,000 men

Further details when intial troops in place.

The noise of the choppers could be heard by the Argyllian B-2 survivors. Looking over the horizon at the oncoming dur-dur-dur-dur they would see five choppers racing just above the grassy meadow to meet them. As the birds closed in they could be identified as three Chinooks with two Apaches in echelon on either side. When the formation came above the small group of survivors men in medical personal spider repelled out of the Chinooks while the apache took a wide circle. When the medics put their feet on the ground the chief walked over to the highest ranking Argyllian and asked with a smile and a charming French accent “Do you need a ride monsieur?”


It took awhile but eventually the equipment was out there. The CEP army engineers and civilian militia were putting in a minefield to surround their capital. The first section of the minefield was to be napalm based and only activated by remote, with the 2nd part being the standard explosive weight triggered minefield, while the 3rd part was much more dastardly. The 3rd parts of the minefield were pressure mines with sabot casings and shrapnel intensive explosions. Designed to launch into the underside of a tank via rocket the mine lost its outer casing in the armour and with luck delivered its shrapnel to the interior of the tank. Knowing that the larger armours wouldn’t be affected by a single mine all the mines in this part were being triple layered. Working under the cover of darkness each team had a tent on wheels, to conceal their lamp light, and moved down the line to dig the whole, plant and arm the mine, and covers it over.

“Sir the minefield is being put in, slowly.” An exhausted looking lieutenant reported.
“Excellent,… and are we still working in darkness?”
“Yessir. Some of the militia needed to be corrected but its been going well we shouldn’t…” The lieutenant was cut off by three loud successive booms, sprays of metal and the screams of the unfortunate militiamen who had set off one of the traps. “Medics on the double!” yelled a strained unseen voice. There was a hustle of bodies as medical personnel attended to the wounded and toe tagged the dead.
“Damn, sir that’s the second one tonight can we not wait until morning to do this the men are tired!”
“Soldier I know but we are at war and we need to protect the capital. There are men in the streets preparing for the invasion as we speak, we can do no less. Look out to sea, do you see that candle off in the distance? That’s a Wolfish battleship sunk buy some foreigners letting us know we are not alone. We can’t fall to these capitalistic bastards! We will persevere!”
“Yessir!” answered the newly motivated lieutenant.

Meanwhile in the city of Skirmishim a group of shadowy figures approach the now silent propaganda tower. With a nod one kneels and offers a ‘leg up’ to the other. He, or she, begins to climb atop the tower with a rope in their mouth. When reaching the top they loop the rope a few times and begin pulling, up came the fabric in the arms of the third unidentified figure. What could be clearly seen flying from the tower was flag with a regal looking emblem on it and paint below it, ‘WE must DiSSenT’. While the first climbed down from the tower the third pulled a bottle from their jacket. There was a flash as a Zippo was fired.
“Ouch shit!”
“Quiet.”
With that a fuse running into the bottle was light and the bottle flung at the government distribution centre. With a crash and the sound that only a ball of fire could make the building’s door was engulfed. The three, now well lit figures of two men and a woman, took off running down the street which had been littered and abandoned since the early days of the bombardment.

ooc: 8) (because my gf thinks he's cool)

Landing Zone X-Ray

The formation of planes where at around 100ft, as low as the C-130's dared to go. The 3 Sea Harriers of A flight where leading the way and a km away from the LZ they peeled off and began their landing circuit. The first plane reduced speed to 120knts and directed the jet nozzles down, the harrier slowed to a further 90knots and then stopped in mid air and began its downward descent. It hit the floor with a thump but the ground was hard enough to take the Harrier, the 2 others followed the leader in and landed near him.

'Ground is hard mission is a go, I repeat mission is a go'

'Okay, we're coming in to land

'roger'

The big lumbering C-130 came in over the trees at the far end of the field and deployed its landing gear 30 seconds before touchdown. It's wheels hit the ground perfectly and the pilot immeaditly applied the brakes, the huge plane was heading towards the hedge row at the far end of the field, but it slowed and finally came to a rest 20 yards before the hedge. The field had just enough room for 3 C-130's to land and unload in the LZ, the other 2 came in and landed well without any problems. The rear doors opened and the engineers and infantry poured out. Soon the whole of the first wave was on the ground and C-130's where heading for home.

The Engineers immeaditly began to dig pits for the patriot launchers and string up camoflauge nets over the Harriers. The three companys of infantry took up positions on the flanks and head of the field, they dug foxholes and set up machine gun pits.

Wolfish Defense Command, Wolfish

The General was furious.

Again – his staff had had him away from the action – taping a “god damned PR piece” – while missiles rained down on his ships – and his sailors – half a world away.

Now his purposeful stride was carrying him quickly back to the nest – the war room where his staff gathered to monitor the progress of the war with EP.

“How many dead?” he asked an aide struggling to keep up with the Generals wide stride.

“Figures will come in around 6,000 – about 2,000 per battleship.”

“That means we’ve lost nearly 9,000 in this conflict – and what has the enemy suffered? Not a whole hell of a lot.”

“But General…”

“I don’t want excuses – I want results. Why are our troops not on the beach? What isn’t our flag flying over Powerpoint? Why is the Argyllian fleet still floating?”

“Sir – plans are in progress,” the young Captain said quickly to prevent the General from cutting him off again.

The General stormed into the nest and immediately raised his head to look at the big screen – a 15 by 10 foot plasma monitor mounted on the wall – surrounded by smaller screens showing everything from news and weather – to live footage from the flight deck of the Thorson some 6,000 km away.

But the big screen was currently showing footage from a UAV over Powerpoint – in the bottom left corner of the screen the indicator flashed “LIVE” in bright yellow letters.

Off the northern coast of Powerpoint, Empassioned Peoples

It was still dark at ground level – the pilots turned on their nightvision goggles, “Flight control to all units. Operation “Sudden Death” is green light.”

Sea Cobra pilot Andrea Jensen smiled and she lifted off from the deck of the Scorpius. This was what she lived for.

She glanced at the FLIR screen and watched as helo’s lifted off from the battle groups WASPs – cruisers – destroyers and frigates…everyone was in on this fight.

“John – you linked up with the others?” she asked her co-pilot sitting forward of her.

“Yep. No airborne targets – lets get feet dry and see if we can find something to blow up.

The mission plans were still swirling in her head – not that her part of it was complicated – but it was the largest mission Wolfish forces had implemented since the war with Tuttsville.

10 Cobras – 5 Apaches – and 20 Sea Dragons – would be the first wave of an assault on EP proper. The attack helos would fan out – seeking targets of opportunity – eliminating any threats north and west of Powerpoint – right at the tip of the peninsula.

The Dragons – loaded with troops and supplies – would land “light” offloading and heading back for the second wave.

Fire Teams would form up – and spread out – creating the first “fenceline” of the war.

“And we are feet dry.”

“Copy that.” Andrea could feel the sweat on her palms being sucked into the tight leather gloves she wore. “Dropping down to pick pine cones.”

The black helicopter dropped to 40 feet and swept inland.

Andrea and her wingman “Flash” swept towards the city of Powerpoint. Their radars, FLIRs and link to the UAV monitored without distraction for the slightest threat.

Now a kilometre behind the attack copter – the massive Sea Dragons were on the ground off-loading troops and supplies – first fire teams formed, then platoons – to spread out and set up TOWED launchers, machine guns pits and to string barbed wire around what would soon be the Wolfish beachhead.

The helo’s lifted off as soon as they were unloaded – and turned quickly towards the sea and safety.

And as the perimeter was being established – the second wave charged across the beach – three massive Chinooks thundered towards the LZ – hanging below each a HMMWV equipped with the new “CLAWS” system – a AIM launcher mounted with five missiles on the back of the rugged jeep.

No sooner had the rugged hummers hit the ground that their crews were off – to set up the initial air defense lines.

No sooner had the Chinooks regained altitude than LCACs from the six WASPs Amphibious assault ships made their way across the shore – inland towards the designated LZ – quickly becoming a base.

Teams moved to unload the massive hovercrafts – carrying 4 Ariete Main battle tanks, supply trucks, Hawk Missile systems, 2 MLRS vehicles – and ammo, tons and tons of ammo in massive cargo containers.

Eventually, the LCACs headed back to their ships – to switch crews, reload and head back to the beach in a ferrying operation that would take them through the night and well into the next day.

Tents were now going up as the command structure took shape. Lt. Col Andison was issuing deployments, pouring over maps and ensuring the area was secure. “Admiral – I know your crews are tired. But if I don’t have fuel, those tanks aren’t going to make it too far. And throwing shells at the enemy is far less effective than firing from a tank!”

He hung up the satellite phone and turned to his clerk, “Watson – lets make sure that everyone has a good supply of MREs – if I’m having trouble with fuel, I’m guessing a kitchen may be a couple days off.

“Yes Sir.”

Another three Chinooks landed ending further conversation. The Colonel surveyed the scene – air defensive screens were in place – at least four UAVs were now over the surrounding area watching for any signs of resistance – three tanks were beginning patrols along with a company of Wolfish Marines – Bradley M3 recon units were out, moving solidly towards Powerpoint – and attack helos and fighters from the battle groups were on patrol overhead, controlling the airspace to the exclusion of everything except birds.

Two hundred km northwest of Powerpoint, Empassioned Peoples

The Seawolf-class sub slid silently through the dark waters.

“Conn – Sonar – I’ve lost contact with the Norwal again.”

“Sonar Aye.” The Captain turned to his XO – they’re moving south now. We’ll wait an hour then change course to 198 – run down the backside of the Argyllian fleet.”

“Aye Sir,” replied the tall officer, a grin evident on his face. “Then they’ll have mines to their east, land to the south, and six Wolfish subs north and west.”

“And I don’t know about you Collins,” replied the Captain relighting his cigar, “but I’m not leaving till that carrier’s flight deck is 30 fathoms under water.”

The Wolfish forces had been spotted by satcomm but nothing made up for a good eyeball figure, or so CEP brass thought. So with that end in mind three commandos where detached from the run to ground forces left hiding in Powerpoint. The commandos had left on foot and kilometres before they could see the invasion forces they had dropped to their bellies and crawled. The lead man separated the blades of grass without crushing any, the middle man staying low dragged a fiber optic cable behind, while the third man used his toes to upright the grass leaving no trace that they had been there. These men were Special Forces and their body suits could show that now expense was spared. The suit was armored with hard polymers on the unmoving plates and Kevlar on the joints. The suit regulated the soldiers’ body heat and in the temperate breeze they would not show up on IR as there was no heat differential from the air.
When they got to the small crest some ways out they stopped. Coming three abreast the wire was connected to a data port on one of the soldiers armour and a smaller patch cable was connected to the other two. Now with a hard line back to Powerpoint and to each other they could communicate with no worries of it being picked up.

“Start counting boys. Give commentary if you want but everything on the visor is being recorded now.”
“Sir, why didn’t we bring some AT weapons?”
“Well son I’m exhausted from hauling cable, I don’t know about you but even millimetre thick cable is heavy when it’s that long. No guys we are on recon tell base says otherwise.”

http://www.rqriley.com/images/yacht.jpg

Somewhere off the coast of Wolfish

Captain: "Agent Yeilds, have all weapons and equipment concealed. When we get stopepd by coastguard we are Wolfish citizens on a fishing trip, not operative of the National Intelligence Bureu. Understood?"

Agent: "Yes sir..."

Captain: "And have the crew change into more viable clothes"

His eyes glance up and down the agent dressed in an Armoni suit.

Captain: "Her goes nothing"

Walking accross the front deck the captain leans accross the guard rail watching the coast of Wolfish comes into veiw.

Captain: "God I hope this works"

Corsingard
Ridgeview Plaza
63 Vernon Avenue

The home of ISA Director Kerrik was lavish, but it not was by choice. A well manicured lawn was the first thing noticed, and several fine and exotic plants dotting the gardens, while a single fountain sat in the yard. Two limousines were parked in the cobblestone circle drive, while series of sedans waiting in the garage. Three guards patrolled the roof, and more were certainly in the shadows. Several lights shown from inside the columned mansion, but they were clustered in the east wing.

Inside that ring, Director Kerrik sat in his “conference room”. This large room was finished with oak, and had a deep, rich texture accentuated by the rows of books, the fireplace, and the fine leather chair he sat in, facing a high tech plasma screen, partaking in a secure video conference. This was the most ornate room of Kerrik’s house, and there was a reason. Just as with the lawn, this room was for others. The only point to these trappings held was to make others comfortable, to make them feel at home inside of the “symbols” of power.

Kerrik’s true stylings were much more Spartan. Simple rooms, and functional, were his motto. The only rooms to receive more than the cursory “what is needed” functions were the living room, with its gathering table and artwork, and the library, his pride and joy. It was said that Kerrik owned every book worth owning, as his private library spanned a cylindrical chamber four stories tall and nearly a hundred feet in diameter. Other than that, the rooms were simple living quarters, situation rooms, and other function rooms, like the kitchen or the bathroom.

But as Kerrik watched the man in the upper-left screen, he felt a sudden urge to reach up and pluck the antique eight gauge shotgun from the mantle, and calmly unload it into the screen. In that loathed screen, Chancellor Fenris was speaking. “…we will simply continue on as before. We will sell to both sides, and offer our medical facilities to all. With being situated in the mid-Pacific, we could be in quite a beneficial location. We could sell supplies, medicine, and repairs to all sides under neutral flags.”

Kerrik really wanted to grab the eight gauge by now, but he held his tongue, even as Jonathon Maddox, the State Security Agency Chief began to speak. Maddox was Fenris’s personal lapdog, and was a simple yes-man. But, to the aging and ailing Chancellor, that “yes-man” had come to mean “only loyal man”. “The esteemed Chancellor is right. Director Kerrik, you opened these relationships with Wolfish in hopes of gaining a foothold, and it seems that you were right beyond your aim! Now we can profit even more, by playing both sides. We will gain allies from both pools!”

Kerrik considered shooting both screens. Cute tactic, Maddie. Give me a compliment that binds my moves, so I appear to slander my own judgment. Fine. You want to play like this- Another voice, one of reason, sprung into his head. Don’t fire back. The ISA is in a tenuous position at best right now. You don’t need to be picking fights with Fenris’s runner-boy. Kerrik followed the voice of reason, and he simply let the topic continue, hoping someone else would pick up his train of thought.

Someone did, and General Cross spoke up. “Gentlemen, this very well might play out as you suggest, but we also must consider the possibility of a worst-case scenario.” More like a “likely scenario”. Kerrik thought, but Cross continued, “If we are playing both sides, what happens when they play on the middle? What if one side decides it can function without us, while it figures the other could not? We could be seen as a detriment to their war, and be the recipient of a very nasty surprise.”

Maddox laughed at the General. “Hardly, Aaron.” he made the first name an insult. “These are civilized nations, and they would not dare attack a neutral nation!”

Kerrik now began to consider shooting himself, too. But still he remained silent, even as he looked at the situational map. Hello! They’re shooting each other and jumping in the dog-pile. I don’t think they care about neutrality.

Again, Cross spoke for Kerrik. “With the amount of firepower being leveled over there, I don’t think they’re really looking for the “reasonable” thing to do. If we step into the line of fire, we may get blasted too.”

Fenris waved him off. “Nonsense. There is a poker term for this. Wolfish has simply over-played its hand. Soon, they will pull back and consolidate. Nothing will come of this, unless we can seize this opportunity.”

Kerrik wanted something more than a shotgun, and he finally burst out. “Sir, there’s an intelligence term for this, too. It’s called a cluster fu<k. Look at the facts, sir! You have riots in Wolfish, marshal law clamping down, a General in command, after an economic collapse, and a building war not that far from our borders. Add this to the amount of “pile-on”, entangling alliances, vengeance warfare, and the God-forsaken assassination attempt on Hatchibombitar – all too convenient, that one – and you have a recipe for disaster of mammoth proportions! This has "massive catastrophe" written all over it! We should stay clear, at all costs!”

Fenris was visibly fuming at Kerrik’s insubordination, while Maddox was glaring, and Cross was nodding silent agreement. Maddox fired off a reply for his master, the Chancellor. “Director, it is hardly your place-“

“Hardly my place? I’m the Intelligence Director! This is my life, the study of international relations and the betterment of this nation!” Kerrik declared exasperatedly.

Fenris broke in. “And it is your duty to obey me. Director, this is not the time and place for your Machiavellian schemes. Be silent, or-“

“Or what, sir? You’ll remove me from my office? Go ahead, sir, that is your right. But, I must speak my mind. My duty is to protect this nation, and there is a coming threat! Imagine, the reaction when the nations aligned against Wolfish find out that we sold him all the supplies he needed to go on this warpath, and that our creditors are buying his bonds. We’re greasing his wheels, and if we start playing both sides, someone is going to get angry. We need to pull back safely-“

“I will not tolerate this insubordination!” Fenris boomed. Maddox grinned. Cross stared. Kerrik simply sat there, amazed by the arrogance. “Director, you are hereby relieved of duty! I will not take your power-hungry ways any further! You will remain out of any government building until this crisis is over, and you are not to be seen with any of the ISA’s agents. Maddox, you have control of the ISA now.” The screens went black, and Kerrik knew he was out of the loop, virtual and real.

Kerrik snarled and grabbed his telephone, hurling it into the fireplace. “That fool!” He turned to glare at the embers, his momentary rage fading into cold venom. All that I do, I do for this nation. All that I am, I am for this nation. What am I without this nation? What will this nation become? Kerrik had always been a patriotic man, and that had not changed. Even without my post, I can still serve. Damn the Chancellor and his senile schemes. I must protect this nation.

Kerrik’s pulled a small cell phone from his suit jacket, and flipped it open, his eyes locked onto the shotgun over the mantle. A call was made. All is for this nation.

Sorobade
Karton Shipyards

The Kaukolastani Dominion centered around the four islands of Artems (Northwest), Valen (East), Sorobade (South), and Corsis, which rested in the center. Throughout these and beyond these were scattered islands and atolls, all under the Dominion’s control. In the large, rich island of Sorobade, at the southern sea, was the port of Karton. Amid the ragged cliff faces and coastal guns, this was the one good port for miles. To either side, the cliffs rose against the steel water and the rugged terrain.

Karton served as one of the rare “external” ports that allowed Kaukolastan to face the open ocean, instead of into the Channels between the islands. As such, it had prospered, and served as the second most important port to the Sorobade mining industries, as well as one of the main shipyards, and one of only three capable of producing the Dominator-Class Dreadnoughts.

Row after row of ships, ranging from cutters and tugs to supertankers, filled the berths. Seven keels were being laid, including three for supertankers. Of the yards in the world, this was one of the few that had the size and capability to construct the great ships in one pass, rather than piece by piece. But this was to be expected, as these docks had produced the Dominators. Removed from the bustle of the port, there were more docks, these guarded by Marines. In the largest of the two dozen berths, there was a series of three hulls being set. It was not three ships, but rather a single Dominator, the trimaran overlord of the seas.

In the harbor, cutters and gunboats escorted ships to and from the perimeter, lest some unwanted guests pass too near the Dreadnought. Not that the navy hid the great ship. In fact, they had made sure that the vessel was visible to all, to showcase their newest powerhouse. It was to be commissioned the DB-12, the Imperator, and it was twelfth such vessel produced for Kaukolastan, with two more for Transnapastain and one for Armed Lumberjacks, respectively.

What made these vessels so devastating was not in their ability to level triple the firepower, nor in their inherent stability and armor, but in their computerized and optimized systems. With the extra space, Kaukolastan had not just slammed more ammo into place, but added redundant systems and powerful fire-control and direction computers, as well as the first generation BattleNet, although all were easily converted to generation two, already in planning.

As such, this trimaran was protected by layered security, torpedo nets, and constant guards that watched even, especially, the workers welding the superstructure. Of these guards, many were ISA agents and operatives, who watched the watchers. One of these was Darius Jensen, and the young agent stood on the uppermost dock arm over the growing ship.

Darius was a completely average man in appearance, which was good in his profession, where being invisible was a necessity. Standing at six feet tall, weighing two hundred and ten pounds (muscle only), he was of a wiry build. Straight, dark brown hair was tucked under and fell over a dark blue bandana, a trophy of his combat in Geridan, and one that still had the coppery taste of blood as his sweat fell through it. Glossy black jackboots rose to his calves, and his uniform pants were tucked into them. The black leather belt and chest strap gleamed in the sun, as did the rank emblems on his high collar, and the ISA seal on his hawk-billed cap that mostly hid the bandana. Below that emblem, the silver chain marked his position as an Operative, resting over the black bill of the cap. The modern fabrics breathed fine, letting the heat escape, even in the glaring sun at the seaport. Darius stood with catlike balance on the docking arm, watching down into the construction.

He glanced away from the glimmering water and hard work below, looking inland, towards Terenaus. The brilliant sunlight flashed for a second from his premium sunglasses, and they reflected in a full prism as the light bounced across. Darius’s eyes narrowed behind the lenses, and he observed the silent silhouettes of skyscrapers and refineries with cool appreciation. All of Sorobade revolved around the mining and production industries, so far as that cities were called “Hubs”, towns “Outposts”, and settlements “Stations”. Everything fed back into larger and larger circles, before being shipped in a finished package, sent to Corsis, or consumed there. Of all of the Hubs, Terenaus, the Provincial Capital, was the most important and glamorous.

It was the only Hub in this land that could claim to be a “cultural center”, as it was the favorite of the CEOs and Presidents, as well as the seat of government. Like most of Sorobade, it functioned from eight to six, then clocked out and went home. At night, the culture took over, and concerts and sports became concerns. But even those went out at ten. After all, everyone would be working again tomorrow. Darius smiled softly, thinking of his home in the city. To most people, that kind of life would be crushing, but to Darius, the industrious, efficient Hub was a perfect match.

He turned away from the distant outlines and shimmering glass to return his attention to the work below. The Imperator would be finished within a month now, if this pace continued. And it would. The Karton Dockworks were among the best. To the harsh people of this place, there was nothing more fulfilling than good, hard work, and that was evident in every project.

From behind him, there was a call. “Sir!” Darius turned slowly on the beam where he stood, as there was only a three foot width, and a hundred foot drop below. At the end of the beam, a similarly dressed, if simpler, ISA agent was standing. “The Section Chief wants to see you.”

Darius nodded and began to walk across the beam with graceful confidence. Years of combat training had given him extraordinary balance and self-confidence, or perhaps simply, a refusal to believe anything could hurt him. He hopped from the end of the beam and turned to the junior officer. “Thank you, agent.”

Darius strode through the yards, and upon entering the dock’s ISA office, he removed his hat. The bandana, however, remained in place. “Operative Darius Jensen, reporting.” He declared to the receptionist, a mouse-like analyst who nevertheless appeared dangerous.

The analyst glanced up. “Please proceed to the conference room.” There was a buzz, and the door past the desk swung open.

“Thank you.” Darius stated as he head into the next hall and down the stairs. He approached the third door, tucking his hat under his arm and composing his face to greet a superior. He opened the door.

“Ah, hello, Operative Jensen.” A smooth voice floated from the room. Darius almost halted his stride, but his training carried him through without break. At the table, Section Chief Keller sat with three other Section Chiefs, as well as Sub-Director Allens, Operations Director.

Darius saluted and shot to attention, keeping the hat pinned. “Sir!”

Allens sighed and returned the salute. “It’s alright, Darius, I’m not pushing military discipline here.” Allens' history was in Marine Recon, and that attitude was sometimes more than a little evident in his leadership. “Please, have a seat.” He motioned to an empty chair. “Now, how much do you know about the current situation?”

Darius need not ask what that situation was, for it had plagued his mind all day. “Well, there’s a war being based from under a thousand clicks from here, and patrols are stepped up accordingly. We’ve been putting through a lot of shipments lately. Lots of medical supplies and raw material bound for the North. I’d assume polar route to Wolfish? Then, we’ve got more waiting to go south, probably to EP. I’d say, we’re selling to both sides with gleeful abandon.” He couldn’t hide his frown.

Allens nodded, accepting these facts. “And you don’t like this?”

Darius paused for a moment. “Sir, permission to speak freely?”

“That’s why we’re here.” Allens motioned for him to continue.

“It worries me. Number one, the run up to this war stinks to high heaven, if the reports we’re seeing are accurate. We shipped a lot of war materials before this even began, so I think this was inevitable. Now, Wolfish has waltzed deeper into the pit than they expected, and things are going to get uglier… fast.” He paused. “Now, what we’re doing is getting us a lot of money, but we can’t sustain this. All we need is something to go bad, anything, really, and we’re in the middle of this, too.” He paused again, weighing his words. “I think Fenris wants a legacy, but why is the Director not protesting?”

Allens grimaced. “Actually, Director Kerrik is currently suspended.”

“What?” Darius almost yelled. “In a time like this, the Chancellor removed the Director?” He was almost too stunned to speak, which was good, for his next words were sure to be treasonous.

As it happened, Allens spoke for him. “The Chancellor is a senile old fool, and now we’re silently answering to SSA pencil necks. Maddox is in charge of us, but not in public.”

Darius glanced around, but the others simply watched him. They had already heard the news. “We have to answer to the SSA? I thought they were just a holdover of the previous administrations.”

“They were, and they still function as a rubber stamp for Fenris’s plans. Unfortunately, we can’t change his mind. Kerrik was relieved for being reasonable and recommending caution.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Well, if we protest, we’ll be gutted into the Internal Stamping Agency, so we have to try to work things for the best, inside of this plan the Chancellor has. The military is doing likewise, and has put in place defensive measures, as well as beginning a small mobilization, just in case.”

At this, there were several snorts. Section Chief Keller spoke first. “Let me guess. Baby-sitting.” At Darius’s confused glance, Keller clarified. “The Chancellor is not only selling material, but offering to allow use of our external archipelago shipyards for limited purposes, and to take in injured from both sides for treatment. Which means, we have to be careful not to let them steal our equipment, sabotage each other, or, God help us, start shootouts in the hospitals.”

Darius suddenly had an image of a Wolfish sailor with one arm tackling an EP Marine with no legs, and both of them spilling into the isle of a hospital mess hall, sending IV bags skittering. “I trust we’re being cautious?”

Allens nodded grimly. “As much as we can, with the SSA pricks all over the place, talking about political correctness and courtesy to other nations. As is, we are interdicting and escorting ships in and out, and keeping the crews under friendly “protection”. And, we are stealing DNA samples under the guise of health checks, just in case some ass hat tries to bring a disease into the Dominion.”

“When does this start?”

“It began at noon.” Allens shifted bitterly. “Be careful out there, Operative. And use every bit of force you need. Don’t worry about the SSA if it comes to that.”

Darius shook his head. “This is stupidly risky.”

”Agreed, but we follow orders.” Allens said no more, but there was an unspoken end to that sentence that everyone there felt. For now…

Echo Company, Just north of Powerpoint

The Bradley M3 stopped just short of the berm. The driver swept the open field leading south into Powerpoint for any signs of enemy activity.

“We’re clear. TAC 5 is advancing.”

“Copy TAC 5 – Sweep the area and we’ll advance the column.”

“Copy.” The driver hit the gas and the Bradley sprinted over the berm, and accelerated – keeping off the main road, but following its path into the largely empty city.

“Control – TAC 5 is in the city.” A kilometer behind six more Bradley’s, 3 Ariete main battle tanks and 8 Hummers, followed the route set by the scout vehicle. Over head the sound of Sea Cobras – constantly watching for threats.

In the “Control” Bradley – Major Chalmers watched the video display linked to the scout vehicle. “He should turn soon towards the port.” As if TAC 5 heard the Major’s comment, it turned and continued on – now heading east towards the bay and Powerpoint’s harbour.

The armour column mounted the berm where the Bradley had stopped – but continued without pause.

“Control Echo Company to Windward Base.”

“Echo Company – Go ahead.”

“Powerpoint is breached. We are moving to the port.”

“Copy Echo. Secure the objective and hold up there for the night.”

“Affirmative Windward. Echo out.”

Imperial Harbour Five fast attack boats – previously stored in one of Remus’s WASP-class holds – motored into Imperial Harbour – M242 chain guns pointed at the shore – less than 45 metres away.

“Remus Command, We are half a click from landing zone – guns are hot.”

“Copy that SeaSkimmer. Be advised – friends are penetrating the port from the west.”

“Copy – friends on the ground.”

200 km west, northwest of Powerpoint, Empassioned Peoples

The Norwal, Blake, Gazelle, Freedom, Ivanhoe and Valour – all Wolfish Seawolf-class attack subs - spread themselves out, forming a semi circle around the known location of the Argyllian fleets.

“Have we received the new GPS data from the Thorson’s UAV?”

“Aye Captain – the carrier has drifted ½ a kilometer north – they’re sitting dead in the water – so passive sonar isn’t getting much of a hit – we’ll have to rely on the GPS for now.”

“We just need to be positioned – they’ll start making noise soon enough.”

Flight deck B1-B, 100 feet above sea level, 200 km from Argyllian fleet

“Uploading targeting data…Burst transmission complete. Locking coordinates.”

The pilot thought to himself how incredibly mad this mission was. The level of coordination was magnificent. But that also meant that everything had to go perfectly or he’d be swimming home.

The copilot checked his display, “Captain – looks like its show time.” He pointed to his screen – linked to the radar birds flying over the four Wolfish fleets in theatre.

“Yep.” He flicked the switch to transmit to the other B1s in the flight. “Prepare to launch.”

Thorson CIC, 100 km north of Powerpoint.

“Admiral – fighters are airborne.”

“Well that should get the Argyllian’s attention,” he replied calmly. Over head, 200 fighters from the Thorson, Alfa, Remus, and Scorpius were forming up, refueling and preparing to head due west – into the teeth of the Argyllian fleet.

The Captain held the radio firmly in his hand, his eyes fixed on the Admiral waiting for “the word.”

“Captain…Execute operation Swift Retribution.”

“Aye Admiral,” he keyed the microphone. “Thorson Command to all Wolfish forces. Execute, on my order, operation Swift Retribution.”

As one, 30,000 feet above the fleets, 200 F18s turned – half diving to mere feet above the waves – others maintaining their altitude – towards the Argyllian fleet.

Strapped to the wing pylons of each – two HARM missiles, eight AIM air-to-air missiles and the centerline external fuel tank. As the jets went to afterburner – ships below were already implementing their part of the attack plan. The four arsenal ships from Taskforce Alfa had been waiting for their chance to really contribute following the attack of the EP A-10s. Now was the time.

“Thorson, Alfa is firing.”

Each ship rocked in turn as missiles began pouring from the bowels of the stout vessels. SLCMs and extended range SM2s blasted into the sky – each hugging the waves. The SM2s quickly passed the tomahawks, then the fighters and they rushed towards the waiting outer defenses of the Argyllian fleet.

Thirty SM2s – fired from four locations homed in on the known locations of the enemy frigates and destroyers. Coming in slower, but more stealthy, were 30 sea-launch cruise missiles – they were programmed to attack the carrier at the centre of the formation.

The three B1-Bs, now 60 kilometers out, watched their radar feeds coming from the fleets, as enemy fighters rose to meet the coming slaughter.

The plan counted on the stealth ability of the bomber, and its low approach angle to allow them to approach the enemy to a range of 50 km before they were detected.

There were now closing on that magical number.

“Flight – Lead. Come to 30,000 feet, and max speed for weapons launch.”

The three planes climbed fast – maintaining supersonic – as the bomb bays began to open.

“Window is clear – you are weapons free.”

Crew members on the bombers each hit the bomb release buttons – and from the belly of each beast flowed a stream of 12 AGM-154 JSOW precision bombs – each weighing in at 1,300 pounds.

“Weapons are away.” The weapons officers watched on their monitors – each of the 36 bombs knew its flight path, and new that it was to sink itself deep into the belly of the carrier before it exploded – but, just in case, the weapons officer could steer it, up until impact, if necessary.

“Weapons on target – lets get out of here.”

The bombers dove for the deck – accelerating to Mach 1.2 at they began to get sea-spray on their windscreens.

250 kilometers away the F18s were just entering their battle.

“This is Whiskey 2-9er. We have multiple radar targets – launching HARMs….One away…Second HARM is away – switching to air-to-air missiles.”

Each SuperHornet in turn first fired its two radar seeking missiles – targeting the ship that were tracking their movements on high-powered radar systems. And while the missiles wouldn’t penetrate the heavy armour on the ships – they would follow the electronic path to the source of the radar – usually attached firmly to the bridge superstructure.

400 HARM flew towards the enemy – 400 chances to damage the fleet.

And deep below and to the west of the enemy fleet, six Wolfish subs waited. Waited for their chance – their opportunity – to strike.

It was a cloudless day and the sun burned hot onto the chilly waters bellow, they were still and rippled only gentley undisturbed. That is until the Fishing Boat came roaring accross the water. It began to slow easing into harbour. Noone took a second look as the boat pulled into dock laden with an aparent bounty of fish being unloaded onto dock.

Agent: "Cap...Skipper, where do you want this swordfish?"

Captain: "Just pack it in the ice box for now"

It was a good thing it was midday and many of the fisherman had already begun drinking otherwise the loud metalic thud as the swordfish was lowering into the box would have raised a few eyebrows, then again even in times of strife the fisherman's life was quaint and carefree.

A group of four men and a woman finally gathered on the dock, after exiting their ship and unlaoding their cargo. Backing their belongings onto a cart they made there way down the dock and into a waiting vehicle. Once inside the woman removed a satillite phone from her bag and assembled the small relay, with a flick of her hand the driver halted the vehicle understanding her silent communication. She leaned slightly out the window placed the small black device on the roof and removing the lining from her breifcase. It revealed a small computer and telephone receive, she lifted the receiver and quickly keyed in five combinations.

Woman: "Indentification Alpha Gamma Three. Infiltration complete, begining Phase Two. Over."

Replacing the receiver she pressed a button marked send delivering the following to the National Intelligence Bureu's Headquarter's in the Imperial City.

[code:1:1587d1fca0]585-454-585 859-658-698-698 569-856-252-659 585 589-698-562[/code:1:1587d1fca0]

Woman: "Let's get move on Harry!"

CEG-3 Frigate STS Leviticus 80 km NNE. of PowerPoint, EP

The Leviticus Convoy Escort Group continued to race eastward to avoid conflict with the Wolfish battle groups positioning north of Portsmouth and PowerPoint.

“Sir, SAR 03 has picked up two survivors 90 km off PowerPoint. Sounds to be EP pilots. Our guys are saying they’re speaking French. SAR 03 requests landing and refuel to go back out… SAR 02 reports wreckage approximately 75 km northeast of PowerPoint and requests instructions,” Ensign Tiel said.

Captain Zhang came over to the radio console. “Tell SAR 03 to head to Levi Two… We still haven’t received transmission from EP?”

“No sir. Radio is still quiet. Too quiet, I’m not receiving any transmissions, civilian or military, from EP’s direction. Getting some chatter to the west, possibly Wolfish, but I can’t make it out. Possibly encrypted,” Ensign Tiel said.

“Figures. We can’t risk getting into EP waters yet, although I want to. Tell SAR 02 to transmit coordinates of wreckage, and we’ll have to wait until clearance.”

“Yes sir, transmitting now.”

Over the next hours three Shang-Tian frigates watched the battle unfold as Argyllian bombers took out Wolfish battleships and Wolfish fighters took our the Argyllian bombers. The situation seemed to stabilize for the time being until Seaman Ogeff called the Captain over to look at new radar signatures.

“Captain, I think you need to take a look at this. I’m picking up low signals from Wolfish vessels north of PowerPoint, bearing 3-0-0. Looks like helos and small craft heading 1-8-0,” Seaman Ogeff said.

“Very good. Keep me apprised of the situation.”

Submarine Group 2 (N-UG 2), STSN Neptune 021 50 km NW of Skirmishim

Captain Manchuo was happy to finally arrive in theatre, to hopefully support the Convoy Escort Group in the area doing recon. The submarine group of eight Wraith class SSN’s had been doing 28 knots for over a day, and the Chief Engineer had been sending him complaints every hour for the past ten hours. Now that they were reaching the edge of EP’s waters, he had given the order to drop speed to 10 knots and come up to periscope-antennae depth. Captain Manchuo remained at antennae depth for two hours transmitting his position, and the rest of N-UG 2 to Ting-Fao Naval Base, while awaiting further orders.

“AAAAEEEEEEIII!” yelled Sonarman Second Class Peter Chui, ripping the headphones from his head. He pounded his left ear as his face retained a mask of pain.

“The hell, Chui!” Captain Manchuo said as he came over to the sonar console. He did NOT like anything loud aboard his boat.

“Sir, large explosion… bearing 0-8-5… loud… approximately 10 km…” Chui managed to gasp out between recoils of pain in his ears.

Manchou turned to Sonarman First Class Jason Soy. “I want a loop, lower the mod, let me hear what’s going on up there. Chief, take Chui down to see the Corpsman.”

Soy ran a 60 second loop of the tape Chui was making at the time of the explosion. Up to the point of the explosion, the only thing to hear was the low rumble of the large surface vessels in the area, which they had been tracking for almost an hour. After the explosion, large whines could be heard on almost all of the surface ships, sounding like full stops… and then nothing. No tube flooding sounds… no submersed whine sounds of a torpedo. Surface vessels normally don’t stop during a surface attack, and there was only one explosion, not the typical multiple hits of missile strikes. What happened up there, Manchou thought. Mines!

“Soy, give me a single ping, directional, 0-9-0.”

“Single ping, zero-niner-zero, aye.”

pinnnng

pong-ong-ong-ong-ong…

Soy ran his eyes over the sonar tracking screen while listening to his own phones. Tons of small signatures lined up in conjunction with the large surface vessels in the path of the ping.

“Sir, I’m registering a line of tiny hits running north-south, approximately 150 km in length. Signature reads as marine mines.”

After another hour, the Neptune 021 transmitted its findings to Ting-Fao Naval Base, lowered periscope/antennae, and dove to 400 feet.

Presidential Palace, Shih'Aori, capital city of Shang-Ti

President Dao came up to the podium as cameras flashed and microphone booms hung a couple meters from his face. The furrowed face on the aged man threw out an air of grim determination. To his left was General K’ung Tzu (Secretary of Military Affairs), Fleet Admiral Benjamin Lin, and Dr. Kim Zhuo (Secretary of Foreign Affairs).

“People of Shang-Ti, the Region, and the World. I am here with grim news regarding the activities in the Wolfish/Empassioned People’s conflict. As we have reported, a Shang-Ti Convoy Escort Group has remained in the area to assist in Search-and-Rescue operations as well as provide real-time intel.”

“We have learned that the Wolfish forces are attempting to land on Empassioned People’s sovereign land. Helicopters, landing craft, and mobile units have been deployed to PowerPoint, Empassioned Peoples. This is not a military strike to punish a government of wrong-doings. This is not a blockage to prevent Empassioned Peoples of sending more grain shipments. No. This is a full blown military invasion. This is an occupancy. This is the attack on civilians and their way of life, which had no responsibilities in any acts that the Wolfish government claims were perpetrated by Empassioned Peoples.”

“Even if these were just military strikes to punish EP for their supposed wrong-doings, we still question the rapid response and intent of these attacks. As I have disclosed previous, there are many questions surrounding the incidents leading up to the Wolfish condemnation of EP. The Wolfish story of their freighter sinking looks to be inaccurate. The grain dumping by EP technically would have no bearing on the economy collapse of Wolfish. And, where is the supposed evidence of EP’s complicity with the assassination attempt on Hatchibombitar’s Queen Celeste? Finally, the call to cease military hostilities has been completely ignored by Wolfish and Hatchibombitar. These actions perpetuate the perspective of aggressiveness towards their military campaign, as opposed to the retaliatory nature they claim.”

“Furthermore, we have learned that Wolfish forces have laid maritime mines just east of the Empassioned People’s coastline. We find this action to be completely, and utterly deplorable. International maritime trade is a major component of Shang-Ti’s economy. The free transportation of ocean-going vessels is paramount to the success of Shang-Ti’s own economy. However, Wolfish is looking to block that through the use of nefarious mines within International Waters. There have already been negative consequences to Shang-Ti’s economy with these mines. Ocean contracts have been cancelled, imports and exports are down approximately 15%, and consumer confidence has declined.”

“Wolfish has claimed that EP committed acts of economic warfare on them through grain dumping. However, I claim that Wolfish is committing economic warfare with Shang-Ti through the use of mines and aggressive naval conflicts. There is only one word in the Shang-Ti dictionary for such Wolfish actions: hypocrisy.”

“I have conferred with my political, economic, and military staff these past few days. We have determined that the most prudent course of action, for the preservation of Shang-Ti society and our ideals of National Sovereignty, is to assist Empassioned People’s with their fight against Wolfish and Hatchibombitar. Obviously, I cannot comment on the military, economic, or political actions we will take at this time. However, I can assure you that we will do what is in our power to end this conflict swiftly and in our favour.”

“In closing, I call on everyone within the international community to assist in this struggle of preservation of National Sovereignty. What Empassioned People’s is accused of doing is minimal compared to the direct actions that Wolfish and her allies have taken against this small nation. Your national sovereignty will also come into question unless you are prepared to act.”

“Thank you. May the Unnamable protect us all.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

http://www.nationstates.net/images/flags/uploads/shang-ti.jpg

“The Unnamable Is Part Of All”

OOC Information on Shang-Ti may be found HERE. (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=137829)

Click HERE for Diplomatic Exchange Information. (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=131970&highlight=)

Powerpoint near the docks

The squad watched the scout vehicle navigate the street. Coming into the dock like this it had no choice but to drive between the high rises, some of which contained the in hiding military. Scott Adams watched the scout vehicle from the fifth floor window of the high rise he was hiding in. With little more then his forehead above the window sill Scott was sure the tanks couldn’t see him. He let the scout go by unfettered. As the main battle group approached he brought his stinger launcher to his side. Glancing to make sure that the target recognition hardware addition the commonwealth added was operative he exhaled slowly calming himself. His helmet crackled with the static of shortwave radio,
“GO!”
With that Scott’s squad leaned out of their windows firing at the lead tank in the battle group. The armor piercing missiles locked on by picture recognition and zipped to their target. Scott rolled back into the condo and dragged his equipment onto his back. As planned he ran down the stairs into the basement to the utility access. There he passed off half his gear to his partner and began running down the underground corridor closing the door behind him. ‘Damn that was satisfying’ Scott though as he ran, too bad it was only one tank. Looking at Scott’s expression his partner spoke confidently,
“Hey only one this afternoon but one tonight and five tomorrow, we’ll drive those bastards back don’t worry.”

Powerpoint atop one of the high rises

A comms squad was rotating the commercial dish to broadcast into the sea at the last known location of the Shang-Ti fleet a prerecorded message that sounded as follows; The people of the Commonwealth of Empassioned Peoples welcomes you into our waters and wishes you good luck in saving our valiant pilots. Please be wary of Wolfish ships as they are a vile enemy and are being indiscriminate with their targets.

Closing up their equipment on of the men spoke to the other,
“Think they got it?”
“Hell most of this half of the pacific got it, that’s a big dish. Now I don’t know about you but I want of this roof before Wolfish takes out this dish, civy as it is, with a tomahawk.”
“Agreed.”

With the first team firmly inplace a second identical vessel glides through the pristine waters of Wolfish. The sun hung directly above it, casting no shadow. In the radio room sat the second team's leader, an anonomous agent for the Rotovian Intelligence Bureu. There were three other men in the room glancing nervously from one to the other, one of them puffed a cigarette sending tiny spirals of smoke dancing aorund the tiny room.

Agent1: "So we're a day ahead of schedule, I say we just go ahead witht he misssion"

Agent2: "Are you insane? Two indentical ships pull up at the same harbour on the same day?"

Leader: "We have no choice but to contact base"

Agent3: Taking a long draw of his cigarette. "The window is closed, the machine will only send code during selected times"

Leader: "Theres no choice, we are already in Wolfish waters. Whatever we do we will raise a few eyebrows.... send a standard code"

Agent1: "That could be decoded if our message is dedected, we'd have to send it via a standard sat phone channel...."

Leader: "That was as order, Agent!"

With a series of hurried puffs the Agent opens a breifcase similar to the one used by the last team, this time keying in one five digit combination. One of the other agents leans over with an ash tray, prompting him to stub out his smoke. Doing so he lifts the receiver.

Agent1: "Indentification Beta Alpha Eight. We have arrived ahead of scehdule, requesting orders. Over."

With a nervous gesture he presses the send key.

Air Battle Area

As the 2 carriers scrambled all the fighters on their decks the 4 squadrons of F-14 Tomcats faced the overwhelming numbers of the Superhornets in front of them. The only good thing about the situation that they could see was that some of the F-18’s had dived to sea level, which left them completely defenceless against attack from above. 12 Tomcats of NAS 1 the premier Naval Air Squadron dived from 35,000ft, they accelerated to Mach 1.4, the G’s where terrific but when they where around 80 miles away from the F-18’s they launched 4 AIM-154 Phoenix missiles each. The huge missiles blasted off into the distance, the Wolfish pilots wouldn’t even see them coming.

The remaining 36 Tomcats turned on the Hornets coming towards them at 30,000ft. They where about 100 miles away from the enemy planes and closing fast if the Tomcats where going to use their superior Phoenix missiles to good advantage they had better do it now.

‘All ships in formation prepare to launch full complement of AIM-154’s’

‘Pick out targets and shoot, we can hardly miss there are hundreds of the bastards’

‘Shoot, Fox-1, -2, -3 and -4 away’

‘Fox-1, -2, -3 and -4 away’ the call was repeated all the way through the formation

‘ETA of F-18E’s, 8 minutes’

The only other planes in the air where the 6 Sea Harriers operating off HMAS Rock of Gibraltar, these planes where directed after the marauding B-1B’s who had launched their missiles and scampering for home. The Sea Harriers dived to sea level and began closing the distance from 50 miles to 30 miles , they where each armed with a pair of AMRAAM’s.

‘Two bogies in range, prepare to launch’

‘Clear radar lock, missiles away’

12 AIM-120’s boosted away at over Mach 4 to the lumbering bombers, but it was too late to stop the missiles they had launched. Those missiles could be fatal to the carriers in the centre of the formation.

Destroyer/Frigate Screen

The forward picket consisted of a cruiser, 2 destroyers and 3 frigates. The powerful radar of the Air Defence destroyers identified the threat from the Hornets massing at the far edge of the SM2’s range. The Commodore controlling the picket station ordered the destroyers to launch 12 SM 2’s each at the high flying enemy formation. The VLS system began its systematic launch program firing a missile every 10 seconds soon the 24 missiles where in the air speeding towards the Hornets adding to their problems.
A Merlin AEW was the first to pick up the massive incoming missile strike, the Merlin’s radar picked them up the small missiles at 80 miles and quickly relayed the data to the cruiser HMAS Somerset who was commanding the picket. The Commodore immediately ordered the Frigates forward they where armed with the Sea Wolf missile system, it was capable of shooting down artillery shells, but it wasn’t in range yet. The destroyers quickly changed their attention from potential threats to a very real threat to their safety. They fired every 10 seconds for 4 minutes, a total of 24 missiles each. The first HARM’s reached the Frigates range at 30 miles, the Sea Wolf launchers discharged their deadly cargo at the missiles but the ships magazines ran out after 32 missiles each, the ships crews began to desperately reload their primary weapon system. This was actually the thing that saved the Frigates, their attack radar was shut down and the HARM’s could not lock onto them. The Ship-Air missiles had destroyed 102 missiles compared to 144 fired at them, this still left around 300 missiles to engage. All the ships CIWS began to fire when the missiles came within their 3 mile range, the 40mm gattling guns went about their deadly business knocking down 20 missiles before the ships where over whelmed. The HARM missiles 250lbs warhead was not big enough to penetrate the strong armoured hulls of the escorts but they did a hell of a lot of damage to radars.

The destroyer HMAS Battleaxe was struck by no fewer than 5 HARM’s, twice in the bridge which killed the whole of the bridge crew and destroyed the ships main radar, 2 hit one of the CIWS which has its own fire direction radar, it was blown off the ship and the crew killed. The last one hit below the other CIWS but failed to penetrate the ships hull. The crew went straight to fire control stations and the fire was extinguished within an hour, the ships Captain was dead along with 30 other crew members with only 11 wounded. The engineer managed to fix up the fire control for the VLS but without a radar the ship would need a data link from the circling Merlin AEW.

HMAS Bunker the other destroyer was hit 6 times and was damaged extremely badly, again the bridge was hit by two missiles decimating the bridge. Both CIWS where blown up and even worse the ammunition for the gun began exploding before the 40mm magazine was flooded. The fire fighting teams where still trying to get through to the bridge when the radar mast fell overboard. 45 men where dead and 34 wounded

The cruiser HMAS Somerset was last to be hit, it had had time to realise that it was anti-radar munitions being used to devastating effect. The Commodore had ordered the radars shut down but only the main radar had got down quick enough. The cruisers three CIWS where all hit with missiles that sliced through the turrets thin armour and detonated inside killing the crews of 7, with 21 dead men on board and no close in defence the Somerset began to count losses and defend against the next attack.

HMAS Avenger was the only Frigate to suffer damage in the attack, she had been the first to reload and had turned on her radar system seconds before the missiles hit. 4 targeted her and decimated the bridge completely wiping out the steel structure which moments before had been the nerve centre of the ship. 27 men died and 12 where wounded, Avenger was out of this fight she needed repairs desperately and would be following the path of her 2 sister ships who had struck mines earlier.

HMAS Somerset radioed the rest of the fleet to switch off all radars immediately, the whole of Task Force Sabre was now relying on the radar provided by the Merlin AEW’s who patrolled the skies. But the HARMS still managed to hit another frigate and destroyer in the North picket station, causing casualties of 14 dead and 22 wounded. The rest of the HARMS impacted in the sea after they ran out of fuel because they could not find any targets, the missiles had damaged 4 ships with 28 missile hits and caused 138 men to lose their lives and 79 to be wounded.

The Merlin picked up the second package of missiles coming in from 4 directions, 1 was angled to attack the North picket Station and 3 where going to decimate the remains of the Forward Picket Station which only had 1 Air Defence Destroyer operational and 2 Frigates (Argyllian cruisers only carry cruise missiles).

The Northern Picket Station was in a good condition to receive an attack, the missile hits had only caused superficial damage and only 1 CIWS had been lost. The 8 missiles where rocketing towards the ship, when they reached a range of 70 miles the 2 Destroyers opened up and soon had all 8 missiles in the sea, they where no match for the destroyers powerful radar and SAM systems.

The forward picket station was different matter, 22 missiles where directed at them and they didn’t even pick the SM2’s until 30 miles. The Sea Wolf VLS on the frigates was only half reloaded and was quickly fired without a firm fix on the target missiles, only 8 missiles where shot down.

HMAS Somerset sunk inside half an hour when 5 missiles sliced through her hole and blew up. Seconds later the magazine blew up creating a huge hole in the bow of the ship, it began to list and then it rolled over in a matter of minutes. Only 7 men out of 350 survived her death they where picked up by SAR helicopters operating off the carrier.

3 Missiles hit HMAS Avenger, 1 went into the engine room destroying the steering gear and rudder, but the worst was to come, the other 2 missiles hit side by side at the front of the ship ripping off the forward bulkhead and the seawater began too pour in. Soon 2 SAR choppers where around the ship picking up survivors of the attack the final butchers bill was 49 dead 67 wounded.

HMAS Bunker’s bad luck continued she was hit by 4 missiles, she stood no chance what so ever. There where still fires from the HARM attack when these missiles smashed onto the crippled ship. The men ran for the boats they knew the ship was lost, this minimized the casualties but the more important thing was that the ship was sinking. Bunkers total casualties where 60 dead 70 wounded.

The last two missiles crashed through the hull of HMAS Avalanche, one of the undamaged frigate and hit the Sea Wolf magazine which blew up, the whole ship was engulfed in flames no choppers could get close enough to get survivors, it was the worst maritime disaster in Argyllian history a whole ships company lost in one strike. 200 men where dead and things where getting worse.

The slower Cruise missiles went straight through this gap in the shield protecting the carrier. Between the carrier and the missiles there was a destroyer and a battleship. The remaining frigate still operational fired 8 Sea Wolf missiles which got 6 Cruise Missiles, but it watched apprehensively as the missiles sped over the ship. The destroyer HMAS Braveheart pin pointed missile trajectories and started to cycle through the launch procedures that governed the ships defensive systems. It got off 17 SM2’s before the missiles where unengageable, Braveheart knocked down 12 of the missiles leaving 12 to be dealt with by HMAS Winston Churchill. The BB fired its short range RAM missiles and CIWS, the missile count dropped to 9 then 8, but it wasn’t going down fast enough. The battleship then performed the manoeuvre that no one thought would ever be done, the ship pulled alongside the carrier HMAS Waterloo and sacrificed itself to the missiles, the on board radar of the missiles locked on to the huge mass of metal in front of them and smashed into it. Churchill took 8 hits all along its side creating multiple fires and multiple holes. Sea water flooded in and the ship settled in the water, within 45 mins the ship would sink with 387 dead men aboard and 219 wounded aboard the ships of the fleets.

The 3 submarines of 5th SSN Squadron where given the co-ordinates of the 4 Arsenal Ships by the Command Staff and told to fire their Tomahawk Anti-ship Missiles at them. The subs came up to 30 ft and proceeded to fire off each subs 12 missiles. The missiles flew into 4 groups of 9 targeting each of the ships that had done so much damage to the ships of the Fleet.

Fortunately for the Argyllians the B-1 strike went over the relatively unscathed North Picket Squadron. The two destroyers used their Aegis system to good effect firing off missile after missile at the JSOW munitions. The total went down from 36 to 14 after the Destroyers had finished with them. The Sea Wolf system of the lone frigate of the picket fired 12 rounds and killed 8 missiles continuing its superb record. 2 missiles where killed by the CIWS systems. The remaining 4 however got through to the carrier, immediately RAM and CIWS systems began to defend the ship destroying 2 missiles but the other 2 slashed into the carrier’s hull and detonated killing 30 people and wounding 23. The missiles would not compromise flight operations

Bump: Is anyone home?

Bump: I'm not going back five pages to find this again.

The Harbour at Powerpoint
The column of smoke rose high above the convoy, as it continued to advance through the city – now 3 km behind, the wreckage of the tank – its crew vapourized by the blast from the anti-tank round fired through the top of its turret.

“Sir – the port is straight ahead.”

The Major looked around and watched as the first supply ship pulled up to the dock, “Very good Sergeant - reinforce the fenceline and deploy the troops – then get some chow.”

“Yes Sir.”

No sooner had the new armour arrived, then patrols began moving into the city.

400 troops on foot, in Bradley’s and in Hummers spread north and south over a three block area – moving back towards the outskirts. Their job was simply – secure a supply corridor.

Overhead the sounds of LittleBirds – dropping Sniper and Missile teams onto the roof tops of highrises….and gathering just outside of town – a convoy of empty buses – buses that would soon begin carrying refugees into the country side.

Back at the new Powerpoint base a radio man sat at his desk and read from the script, “Shang-Ti forces, Shang-Ti forces – WDC has authorized humanitarian relief for the peoples of Powerpoint…Please respond for instruction.”

Thorson Battlegroup, 200 km North of Powerpoint

The radar screens were a mess. Fighters and missiles intertwined and danced…and died before the Admirals eyes.

He watched as a group of Wolfish SuperHornets launched their Harms – and then, their radar signatures grew bright before fading – missles meeting metal…

“Sir – Incoming vampire – heading for the Arsenals.”

“Switch to automated defense systems.”

“Aye – Aegis systems active.”

B1-B flight, west of Argyllian fleet

The Harriers were clearly visible on radar – but the bombers had a mission to do, and no threat could pull them away from destroying the carrier.

By the time the bombs dropped, and the bombers turned and accelerated, missiles were already in the air.

The systems operators on each plan released their chaff and flares – throwing a couple of the missiles off – but in the end it was a question of velocity and time…and neither was in the favour of the B1s.

“EJECT-EJECT-EJECT” – canopies blew off – air rushed in – and crews were rocketed into the morning sky.

GPS transmitters began calling for assistance, even before the last of the bombers was splashed.

Scorpius Battlegroup, West of Powerpoint

“Sir – looks like the carriers are going to survive.”

“Not if I can help it. Order all ships to open fire on the enemy fleet.”

Six of Scorpius’s warships began their firing sequence – using the latest version of the Moskit Anti-Ship missile – excellent range, excellent punch, and tough as nails.

Launchers swiveled and took aim, even as the first of the Wolfish Arsenal ships exploded a hundred kilometers northeast.

“FIRE”

Each ship timed their firing – the first six missiles flew away from the fleet – 200 metres between each – but all aimed at the same point – the two carriers in the centre of the Argyllian fleet.

“And again Mr. Travis.”

“Aye Admiral.”

Another flight – following a kilometre behind the first…then another. Eighteen ship killers – two targets.

Arsenal Ship Cross Bow, Alfa Command

There was nothing left to do – the phalanx was out of service – and the Sparrow launchers exhausted.

The crew had time – just enough – to jump over the deck rails as the first missile hit, penetrating into one of the launch prep area – detonating four standard missiles on the rack.
The primary explosion was contained – but no amount of armour could contain the four secondary explosions that ripped the bow away from the superstructure.

Fire floated on the surface as the ship quickly went down.

Of the four arsenal ships, only one survived the day unscathed.

Niue AFB

“Sir – we’ve received GPS transmissions…it is homing beacons from the B1 bombers.”

“Damn. Alright. The Argyllian fleet has to go. Scramble the B2s – and a flight of F117 – load the fighters with anti-air missiles – let the Argyllians try to intercept and we’ll blow their asses out of the sky.”

The three teams waited for the go order, they were fighting a losing battle and they knew it but they would lay down their lives if only to give their people time to prepare.
“Go!” was heard in each of their head sets. They booted open the roof access point and started on their pre trained orders. They rushed onto the roof and began to take a position. The heavy ordinance, a stinger launcher with computer image guidance, was fired skyward at the little birds while a Wolfish sniper clipped a man center mass.
“Damn they already have some roofs!” a smattering of fire was returned as the men all dropped back into the access.
“You okay grunt?”
“Yessir, it’s a flesh wound, get me some bandages, *grunt* my armour took most of it.”
“Damn high powered rifles. Did we get em?”
“The sniper no sir our shots were too wild. The target? Well the fire and forget was launched…”
The radio came on again,
“This is fire team 2 we lost a man. Damn sniper made a head shot.”
“Damn, all right all teams to ground we’ll see if hit anything with a recon”

Meanwhile downtown.
“So I says to him, listen, if you want to play a prank on the XO that’s”
“Aren’t we suppose to be doing this, quietly!”
“So sue me all we’re doing is putting claymores on trips in a vacant street. There’s no one around. I don’t even see why we’re doing this.”
“So that those damn foreigners have a harder time securing this city. We can’t let them through without a fight.”
“Without a fight? You were on base when we mobilized those sons of bitches took our best and kept on coming.”
“What’s your point?”
“Well mebe we lost this one…”
The men worked in silence for awhile after that, securing claymores under benches, to doors and the occasion abandoned bus or street car.
“Well lets do inventory,” now speaking into the radio the man continued “report!” After a few moments of coded speech and call signs the man nodded and turned to the other. “Looks like we got them all in, although we have a death from setting up the napalm trap.” The other man raised his eyebrow, a gesture lost in the helmet of the suit.
“Napalm trap?” Answering as they picked up their gear and headed for the subway “Yea, we had a lot on base for shipment into Aust for testing.”
“Well good to see it’s getting some use.”

Landing Zone X-Ray

The first 4 waves had landed without detection; 1/RR had secured the perimeter and the air defence missile systems where active and scanning for possible wolfish marauders. The 5,000 men on the ground where making the base operational, flinging up camo nets and setting up supply dumps. The 3 Harrier Squadrons where safely situated in the field, each plane had its own parking space with camo nets thrown over top. A Flight of 38/39 NAS was providing air defence, the 3 Sea Harriers where keeping close to the deck so no radar could pick them up.

To- Field Marshall Sir Donald Walker, Earl of Inverness,
From- Imperial Staff
Subject- Wolfish Expeditionary Force

It has been decreed by the Chief of Staffs that you will assume command of the Argyllian Expeditionary Force currently situated in the country of Empassioned People. You will have control of all Army and Air Force units located in the area of engagement; you are advised to keep close contact with Task Force Sabre 300 km west of the landing beaches. The force already on the ground is 5,000 strong and consists of 3 Squadrons of Harriers and elements of the 1st Rifle Division. Forces at your disposal are:

3 Rifle Corps
5 Light Corps
6 Guards Corps
1st Group
2nd Group

If you require all these forces the maximum strength of the AEF will be around 170,000 men.

Chief of Imperial Staff, Admiral Sir John Adams

The Earl surveyed the letter, elated that he had been given the most prestigious command in the Argyllian Army. The Wolfish forces looked strong and because the LZ was over 500 plus km away a swift counter attack was out of the question what was needed was a mobile picket force to relay information to the C-in-C.

‘Order 2/RR, 3/RR, 37/RA and The Light Hussars to get ready for transport to EP, I want them on the ground inside 3 days. They will take priority over all other units. Radio the Engineers I want space for a Squadron of Tornado F.3’s in a weeks time.’

Sir, I’ll get right on it’ the ADC trotted away briskly