NationStates Jolt Archive

A frown crossed the Warlord's face as he read the External Security report. He went back to the beginning and re-read it carefully, making sure that he hadn't been mistaken. Still frowning, he called up the ES Watch Section Chief on his desk console. "Who submitted the report on the Mongols?" he barked at the image of the Section Chief on the monitor.

The Chief's heavyset features went slack with astonishment for a moment before she recovered and said, "Wait one." Her hands called up the relevant file on another monitor. "Sir, that report was filed 171 minutes ago by Jared Cooper of Economic Penetration."

The Warlord scowled at the dossier the Chief had sent him, then snapped. "Get him up to my office. Now." He keyed the circuit off before the Chief could acknowledge the order.

Less than 20 minutes later, Jared Cooper was passing through the elaborate security around the Warlord's office. He shivered slightly, affected as much by worry over the summons as the overly efficient air conditioning. He stared blankly at the floor indicator of the elevator car in which he rode, noting absently that the numbers did not seem to run in the correct order. Most of his mind was taken up with wondering what he had done that would make the Warlord demand to see him.

The elevator sighed to a halt, the heavy doors whispering open even as his knees were reacting to the change in velocity. He shrugged and stepped into a large meeting room. The room was roughly oval-shaped, about ten meters by six, and an elaborate communications and display console was prominently mounted to the top of the enormous table that filled the center of the chamber. Jared looked around carefully as he entered the room, his gaze lingering at the bar to his immediate left. He shook his head and sat at one of the nearer seats. "Wouldn't be a good idea to talk to the Warlord with booze on my breath" he thought.

He caught the opening of the only other door to the room from the corner of his eye. The Warlord stalked in, moving like a leopard beginning to hunt. He slid into a seat on the same side of the table as Jared and tapped a command into the display console. A beautifully detailed high altitude map of the continent appeared on the wall opposite the two men. The room's lights dimmed automatically. Jared stared at the image for a moment, then turned his eyes on the Warlord.

The Warlord tapped in a new command, and the islands to the west of the continent suddenly filled the display. Jared checked that the data being shown was reasonably close to what he'd reported on his return from the former Mongol nation, then turned back to his penultimate boss, who spoke softly.

"You are certain of your information?"

Jared nodded rapidly. "Yes, sir. I spent five months out there, mostly traveling between the islands and the shallow-water rigs nearby. I personally encountered teams from the Revalen Petrochemical industry on three occasions. They're buying up oil rigs all along the southwestern coast of Prime Island, and they've started construction on an off-shore refinery between Eastpoint and Revalen City."

"Your report mentioned that Revalen was supplying some of these local rulers with weapons and training."

Jared nodded again. "Yes sir. I personally observed two shallow-water patrol craft from the Syndic for Defense pull ashore nine days ago. They off-loaded small arms and ammunition onto the beach controlled by Hetman Ligdan, then pulled back out to sea."

Silence ruled for several moments, then the Warlord asked, "This Hetman Ligdan, he's one of the robber-baron petty rulers who've grabbed power after the central government collapsed?"

"Yes, sir. Hetman is actually the title he uses. The one they all use. They're all vying for the title of khan. This semi-anarchic situation in the former Mongol nation is why Economic Penetration has been so active there recently."

Keying in a new set of commands, the Warlord said, "The oil we've been buying from these bandit kings- we've been selling most of it to Revalen at bargain prices, correct?"

"Yes, sir. We're not after the oil as much as the long-range strategic advantage complete economic domination of the western littoral area of Forlorn Hope that controlling those islands would give us ..."

The Warlord cocked an eyebrow at Jared, who stammered into embarrassed silence. Lecturing the Warlord on strategy is like teaching fish to breathe water.

Nodding slightly, the Warlord said, "Good report. Prepare detailed reports on all the local bandit kings, along with how much territory each one controls, which oil rigs they control, and what each one's relationship is with every other robber baron. Before close of business tomorrow."

The Warlord hit a key, and the display went black. The room lights brightened automatically. Jared was startled to see two Internal Security soldiers standing next to the opened elevator behind him. He stood and walked out of the room, leaving the Warlord without a word. He stepped into the elevator and turned around, only to find the door closing, and the IS troopers still in the conference chamber. Letting out a breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding, Jared slumped against the back wall of the elevator and sighed heavily. As the car slowed to a stop several minutes later, he straightened up and began mentally reviewing the data for the Warlord's detailed report.

Leaving the elevator and walking briskly back to his own office, he idly wondered what would result from his report.

Jomuga stared at the boxy vehicle in the street ahead of him, then waved his unit to a halt. Several of his troops wandered forward to see what was happening. Most of the rest sat or squatted in place, resting their battered AK-47s on their knees, or setting them in the street beside them. Jomuga shook his head in irritation at his men's lack of discipline and re-examined the obviously foreign vehicle that still blocked the street intersection ahead.

The vehicle resembled a 4-meter long coffin, mottled grey, on eight massive wheels. The front- narrow- end of the vehicle was completely enclosed, but the wider back section sat slightly above the front section and was open to all sides. Three multi-barrelled guns were mounted to this upper section, behind each of which was a man in strange body armor. Two of the weapons were sweeping slowly across the front of his little band of troops. Behind the vehicle, Jomuga could see other men in the same strange battle dress dash quickly across the road and disappear into the buildings to the left of the vehicle.

He spat into the dusty street and called quick orders to his men, who calmly picked up their weapons and spread out across the street. Jomuga ignored them and strode right up the middle of the street until he was within arm's reach of the strange vehicle. One of the multi-barreled guns tracked him all the way, until the man behind it called out a warning and stood up.

Jomuga stopped. The muzzles of the weapon were centered on his chest, and the large man behind the weapon draped one hand casually across the handle and leaned forward to speak.

"That's far enough, junior. What do you want?"

Jomuga was a little confused by the man's horrible accent, but at length he decided the man wanted to know his business. He stood straight and said, "I am Captain Jomuga of the Bogomil Action Troop. My master, Dajirin, has commanded me to secure this city!"

The foreigner did not seem impressed. "That so? Sorry, junior. You've done all the securing you're going to in this direction." The man waved his left hand toward the western and southern portions of Bogomil. "Y'all can do what you want with the rest of town, but this area is leased by Evil Overlord Enterprises."

Jomuga could not read any expression behind the helmet and face shield the man wore. He glanced down the street behind the vehicle and saw only a handful of soldiers. He looked back at the man in the vehicle. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"We're here to protect His Omniferocity's investment. Evil Overlord Enterprises leased the whole northern end of town from Hetman Karachin."

Jomuga pulled himself up to his full meter-and-a-half height. ""Karachin is no more." he declared to the foreigner. "We have defeated his army and we hunt down the last of his men even now. Your lease is worthless! You will move aside so my men can search for the outlaw Karachin!"

The tall man in the vehicle patted the receiver of his weapon and said, "I don't think so, junior. Hetman Karachin is under EOE protection, now. Why don't you take your little band of play-soldiers and pillage some other part of town? This area's off-limits."

Jomuga lost his temper. "My men outnumber you 20 to 1! We will kill you all, and I will stretch your hide for my drums!"

The foreigner in the vehicle laughed out loud and swung his weapon a little bit each way with his right hand. "You do what you gotta do, junior." His mocking laughter followed Jomuga back up the street to his waiting men. Jomuga harshly ordered his men into attack positions in the houses overlooking the street. He sent half his men to work their way around the intersection through the twisting alleys surrounding it. Then he gave the order to open fire.

The roar of the three guns on the vehicle answered a brief rattle of AK-47 fire. Jomuga leaned around the corner of a small store as the concentrated fire from the enemy guns ripped apart the ground floor of the building across the street. The upper floor sagged drunkenly toward the sidewalk before the entire structure cascaded into rubble, burying several of his men who had been unable to escape.

He turned away and imperiously waved up the small group of men carrying rocket-propelled grenades. The building behind him began to shake and vibrate. He started to lean back around the corner just as a burst from one of the vehicle's guns tore a hole through the wall where his head had just been resting.

The roar of the vehicle’s guns deafened Jomuga, but he could dimly hear his men screaming as they scrambled down the stairs from the second floor above him. Bullets tore completely through the building from left to right, shattering bodies into the alley just before the stairs collapsed to hide the gore.

He tore his eyes away from the carnage and saw two men trembling in the street in front of him, clutching their RPG's like magic talismans. He drew his pistol and waved them around the corner in front of him.

A hoarse scream came briefly from the first man as he came apart under a hail of high-velocity bullets. Jomuga staggered as a spray of hot wetness struck him in the face. Blind for a moment, he tripped over something soft in the street and sprawled across the sidewalk. Still clutching his pistol in his right hand, he clawed something that felt like scrambled eggs out of his eyes and scrambled forward, kicking to free his feet from whatever was tangling them.

He heard the rasping snarl of an RPG, followed quickly by the roar of an explosion down the street. Jomuga rolled over to see what he'd caught his feet on, just in time to see the man who'd fired the RPG get hurled backwards into the street, a welter of blood and organs covering the ground where he'd stood.

Transfixed by the sight, Jomuga had to force his eyes away from what was left of the man. He looked at his feet, which were tangled in the exposed ribcage of the first rocketeer. He vomited all over himself and the ruined corpse as he crawled free.

Completely covered with blood and gore- none of it his own- Jomuga's hand fell across the tube of the unused RPG. Snarling a curse, he fumbled the weapon out of its owner's dead hand and rolled over. The enemy vehicle was still occupying the intersection, although its right front wheel was shattered. It was barely 30 meters away. The guns in the rear of the vehicle were firing, two down the street to Jomuga's right, and the third in the opposite direction. No one seemed to be looking toward him.

Jomuga choked out a sound that was half laughter, half sob. "They can't see me!" he thought exultantly. "All they see is the blood and rubble!"

He rose unsteadily to one knee and lifted the RPG to his shoulder. The flip sight on the top of the tube crossed the side of the enemy vehicle, and Jomuga yanked on the trigger. The snarl of the RPG motor igniting was lost in the roar of the forward gun on the vehicle as it swiveled back to bear on him.

His laugh of triumph as the RPG exploded against the side of the vehicle gurgled into silence as the vehicle gunner corrected his aim. Jomuga's last sight was of the vehicle still standing- seemingly undamaged. His body slumped into the roadway atop the remains of his men.


The intersection was shrouded in smoke and alive with the smell of rotting blood as Captain Heartwell finished her tour of the combat area with First Sergeant Soluca. "Looks like you caught the worst of it, Jayce" he said as he surveyed the ruined street. "ES says it was one of the larger ulans- about a battalion equivalent."

Sergeant Soluca shook her head. "None of 'em professionals, sir." she said. "Closest thing to a real soldier was the little fella in charge of this bunch. Died hard, too." Her expression grew harder than usual, and she spat on one of the bodies. "I got two dead, and seven more wounded."

Captain Heartwell slapped his sergeant. "Well done all the same, Top. Colonel says that our Wogs are moving back into the city, now that we cut the heart outa their enemies for 'em."

The sergeant spat into the ruin of Jomuga's face and followed her company commander back to the Command Post. "Sir, maybe next time we can shoot first, huh?"

Corhan Eljar an Kar cursed as he read the spy's report. He turned to face the man, pleased that the man's aristocratic features were unruffled.

The spy was unusual for his trade. He had the slender build, almond-shaped eyes, and cafe au lait complexion common to Revalen aristocrats, but he was far taller than average- well over six feet. He wore the robes of a Senior Liator in the Syndic for Information, which subtly shifted colors through various shades of green. The number of shades demonstrated the wearer's status, and the spy's robe had at least six graduations of basic green- indicating high earned status, well-connected parents, or both.

Kar raised his internal estimate of the spy's accuracy after his quick estimate of the man's character. "None of our ... associates ... were successful?" he asked with a bland expression.

The spy's voice confirmed Kar's estimate of his background. It was rich and powerful, and the man's enunciation was perfect. "Not quite, my Lord. Every attack on targets protected by local troops alone was completely successful."

The spy leaned back in his chair and waved languidly toward the display console on Kar's desk. "However, everywhere the Overlord's troops were defending a target, our associates were driven off with enormous losses. In many cases, the Noyans allied with the Dominion were able to re-take their lost territories. Several were able to take advantage of our associates' weakened condition and expanded their holdings." He hesitated slightly before continuing. "Several of our less-motivated associates have begun negotiating with Evil Overlord Enterprises for protection in exchange for oil rights."

Kar leaned his head back and pondered the news for a moment. Still looking at the ornate ceiling of his office, he mused aloud. "The intent was to create a perception of the Overlord's weakness among the Hetmans and Noyans. Instead, we have inadvertently fostered the false impression that the Overlord's armies are better than ours."

Turning back to the spy, Kar smiled broadly. "We shall have to correct this misapprehension. I am authorizing troops from the Syndic for Defense to take up defensive positions on Mongol Prime and our oil platforms. They will act only to prevent Revalen property and national interests from being overrun by locals hostile to our associates. Once the Overlord's local allies get a taste of Revalen's might, fewer of them will be running to the specious protection of his armies."

Keeping his face professionally calm, the spy swallowed the knot of fear this escalation brought into his throat. "My Lord, that increases the mission's risk by at least an order of magnitude. We run the risk of Revalen troops fighting Dominion troops."

Kar's features wore a broad smile. "All part of the plan, you know. Perhaps it is happening a bit sooner than projected, but the Overlord's shoddy troops would feel the wrath of Revalen's armed might sooner or later. Once we've trounced these Dominion brutes, the Mongol warlords will be begging us to protect them. Once we've taken the entire archipelago under our protective wing, we can finally resume the primacy over the continent the Vrin have let slip through their emasculated fingers. If the Overlord doesn't like it, we'll destroy his armies as we did before."

The spy bit back the first words that sprang to his lips at Kar's pronouncement. Unlike the Syndic across the desk from him, the spy had actually been out into the real world recently. The true military situation was almost exactly the opposite of Kar's opinion.

The Great Dominion War- as it was known among the ruling classes in Revalen- was a textbook triumph of good over evil- in the common mythology of that conflict. In reality, the Evil Overlord and the Syndics of Revalen had fought over whether or not the Overlord could annex Amida Island. When Revalen contested the annexation, the Overlord had hurled his superbly equipped forces over the border into Revalen's heartland. Over the course of six years, the people of Revalen had resisted the enemy fiercely, finally forcing the Overlord's troops back across the gap in the Battle of Three Mountains. That final victory, when the last of the invaders was driven from Revalen soil, was all the aristocracy remembered.

Revalen's military was composed of professional men and women, who knew the truth. The so-called victory at Three Mountains was exalted in public memory to hide the sober fact that the Overlord had taken- and still held- Amida Island.

Furthermore, the realists in Revalen also knew that the Overlord's troops had almost all seen recent combat- in a wide variety of trouble spots around the world as well as around the periphery of Forlorn Hope. Revalen's troops had been living on past glories for too long.

When Revalen's soldiers crossed blades with the Overlord's veteran legions, the results probably would not be much different from the debacle at Bogomil. Dreamers like Kar might stumble the country into a war they could not win, in the mistaken belief that they were on the side of the angels.

The angels, of course, were usually on the same side as God.

So, the inadequate Revalen troops sallied forth to lock horns with the big battalions.

"What do we have here?"

Superior Private 'Junebug' Aulanger tapped her display screen with a forefinger and hit the Alert button. As her teammates lunged out of their bombproof shelters with weapons in hand, she watched the ghostly figures on the screen intently. "Harvey-3, this is 3-1." she muttered softly into her helmet's integral mike. "We have bandits moving along the wire."

A soft double-click sounded as her platoon sergeant answered by breaking squelch twice. By the time Sergeant Paring slid into the Observation Post, she had identified a second group of figures paralleling the first.

Junebug slid the display screen so the Sergeant could see it. "First group numbers about thirty. I make 'em for wogs. Lousy interval, poor light discipline, one of the bastards is smoking if you can believe it."

Sergeant Paring grunted in disgust. All of the veteran EOE troopers had developed an instant contempt for the disorganized mobs the local strongmen used as soldiers. His finger circled the second, fuzzier group of figures fifty meters east of the Mongols.


"Yeah, that's why I hit the alarm." Junebug adjusted the display from her keypad, and the fuzzy images grew sharper for a moment, then snapped back into shapeless blobs on the screen. "They've got some sort of EM distorter going. Automatically adjusts to whatever filters I use."

"Definitely not the wogs." Junebug shook her head in agreement.

"No way in Hell. They got good interval, excellent noise and light discipline, and first-rate equipment." She keyed in a complex order and the screen split in half- the bottom showing the indistinct blobs of the second group, the top showing a ten-meter-per-centimeter-scale map of the platoon's perimeter. Several bright cones chevroned across the map toward the perimeter.

Junebug nodded at the map. "See that? I told the system to mark active IR emissions over the last 30 minutes."

The sergeant was silent for a moment, then reached out and patted his subordinate's armored shoulder. "Good job, Junebug." He rolled out of the OP and slid behind a low wall and keyed the platoon leader's push. "Harvey-6, this is 3. We have a wog patrol with an escort of twelve- that is figures 0ne, two- unknowns with IR and EM confounders along the wire. Heading west to east."

Captain Valkayn's voice came back at once. "What do you figure, Jack?"

"Captain, I think the wog patrol is being dangled out there as bait. Once we take the bait, the unknowns will jack us up from behind."

"That doesn't make a lot of sense."

Paring shook his head, even though the Captain couldn't hear it. "Six, I don't get it either, but that's what this looks like to me."

There was silence for several moments. "All right, Jack." Valkayn's voice grew sharper as he switched to the unit push.

"All Harvey units, this is Six. Foxtrot Romeo Three. Six out."

Back in the Command Post, Captain Valkayn scowled at the Intel screen. A squad of Revalen troopers- they could be nothing else- stood less than no chance against a reinforced Line company. He keyed the Battalion push and spoke softly for several minutes. After getting a reply, he switched frequencies and said, "Teacher-6, Harvey-6. When the wog patrol gets to Phase Line Echo, a friendly wog platoon will engage them from Point Umbra with small arms. Once the unknown bandits get involved, you will take them out."

Teacher-6 replied instantly. "Roger that, Harvey-6. Engage unknown bandits when they engage locals."

"Teacher-6, Harvey-6. I'd like a prisoner or two- if you can manage it without too much trouble."

"No promises, Captain, but I'll see what I can do. Teacher-6, out."

Lieutenant Hoyle tapped orders into the platoon's SSIN link, then double-checked his gear. Sergeant Omofre stalked silently along the ambush line, checking the troops. Hoyle sighed mentally and slid into position just inside the ring of sensors and fixed weapons positions that was still called the wire by all EOE troopers. He could hear the wog patrol shuffling along the edge of the kill-zone to his left. Hoyle switched his optics to passive IR and tilted his head slowly over a small pile of debris.


The three dozen Mongols were stumbling along the far side of what used to be the neighborhood's main thoroughfare. Hoyle checked the range- just over 60 meters- then moved his head slowly to look in the opposite direction.

Another gaggle of semi-trained Mongols was setting up a pair of crew-served weapons about 30 meters across a narrow alley about 100 meters ahead of the enemy. Hoyle cursed mentally, then keyed the platoon push. "All Teacher units, Teacher-6. Our wog auxiliaries will be firing toward 2nd squad from Point Umbra." He keyed in a rapid change of orders, then pressed send.

"2nd squad will hold in place and cover the rest. 3rd and4th will sweep left around 2nd and engage. 1st will maneuver to support our local auxiliaries."

Five separate clicks from his squad leaders and the platoon sergeant answered him. He poked an eye over the rubble and caught a flash of active infrared from the 12 stealthy bandits behind the wogs.

Moments later, the Mongol ambush team in the alley opened fire on the enemy patrol. The resulting 'battle' was more of a blind street fight than a military action. The enemy Mongols went to ground for a moment, then leaped to their feet and charged into the fire of the machine gun in the alley. Few of the enemy even made it across the street, and the survivors began running back the way they'd come as the ambushers rolled out of their prepared positions and started mopping them up. Fewer than ten of the enemy troops made it to the shelter of a wrecked armored personnel carrier.

Hoyle sneered mentally as the local warlord's troops began rushing into the street to pursue the fleeing enemy. Right on cue, just as the last of the ambushers left his position, the Revalen strike team fell on them from the darkness.

Hoyle shouted, "GO!" into the unit push and brought his heavy Intruder battle rifle to bear on the Revalen troops. The light, fast-firing carbines the Revalen soldiers favored tore into the former ambushers, cutting them down without most of the victims even knowing why they died. Hoyle had time to snort in derision at the poor quality of the Mongol soldiers before a slender grey shape filled his rifle's sight picture. The man was very good. He'd heard the EOE troopers as they closed the trap on his unit, and he almost managed to get out of danger before Hoyle could pull the trigger.

Almost wasn't good enough. The rifle punched into the armor over Hoyle's shoulder, and the 11.5mm bullet caught the Revalen soldier in the left chest. More firing from Hoyle's left told him that 2nd squad was dealing with their targets, too.


Sergeant Omofre moved quickly and silently across the street at the head of 1st squad. The 14 men were shifting blurs of mottled grey armor and flat black weapons as they reached the alley where the wogs had set up their crew-served weapons for the ambush. Omofre flattened against the wall at the mouth of the alley and poked the muzzle of his weapon around the corner. Several panicky shots blasted the bricks only centimeters from the sergeant's face. Ducking low and following his rifle muzzle around the corner, he fired twice, the heavy bullets tearing gaping holes in the body of the nervous Mongol rifleman. The rest of the squad joined him, sweeping the muzzles of their rifles across the dozen or so frightened locals hiding behind the machine gun.

"All right, you stupid wog bastards!" Omofre shouted, his deep voice echoing down the alley. "You will git yer fucking hands off those weapons or I will splatter you all over this alley!"

"Teacher-3, Teacher-6. Sitrep."

Omofre glared at the terrified Mongols as the rest of the squad disarmed them. "Teacher-6, Teacher-3. Local support unit secured, approximately 13 survivors."

"Roger, Teacher-3. Leave 'em and pull 1st squad back to cover the rest of the platoon as we withdraw back inside the wire."

Omofre keyed his mike twice, then rounded up the squad with a few gestures and headed back into friendly territory, leaving the frightened survivors of the local warlord's ambush team sitting in the alley next to their dead comrades.


Back at the CP, Captain Valkayn filed his action report on the Battalion SSIN.

"Bandits were all killed during the action. Unknown unit was carrying sophisticated jamming and monitoring equipment, and using Revalen weapons and body armor. No identification was found on the bodies. Equipment and bodies will be dispatched to Battalion CP by next available."

Colonel Xuan sat at the Intel console and cursed several gods and most of his ancestors. The console display showed a relief map of Mongol Prime- the largest of the islands that were once part of a small Mongol nation off the coast of Forlorn Hope. The map had several areas marked in green- to indicate where the Dominion was in control. Other areas were marked in yellow to show Revalen occupied or controlled territory. A far larger area- most of Prime and all of the small islands to the north of it- was red, with scattered areas cross-hatched in blue or yellow. These were the contested zones, where neither Revalen nor the Overlord was in control.

Xuan ran his hand over the stubble that covered his head and cursed again. All across Prime, Revalen troops had been encountered supporting local troops against EOE interests. In almost every such incident, the Revalen soldiers had been driven off or killed. The problem was, Xuan could not figure out why the Revalen troops were acting the way they were.

"Any luck, Colonel?" Xuan shook his head sadly and turned around to face his CO- General Adrian Powers.

"Sorry, sir." he said with a scowl. "The Revalen actions do not make any sense at all, as afar as I can tell."

He waved toward the display and occupied his hands with making a cup of tea while his brain worked over the problem. "We have seventeen separate incidents of Revalen troops acting in support of local units against us. They've even had a couple of successes- one at Eastpoint and another at Chongwe."

He sipped at his tea and watched Powers switch displays. "But I can't get a feel for the strategy behind it. Their tactics are not exactly subtle, and they tend to follow their battle plan to the letter even if it kills them, but the Revalen soldiers we've encountered have been fairly proficient."

The General smiled at her Intelligence officer. "It really irks you to see good material wasted, doesn't it?"

"They've lost close to two hundred troops for no good purpose I can see, General. Hell, even if they'd overrun every single target, they couldn't possibly have held them- as we proved at Eastpoint." Xuan set his cup on the table and shook his head. "There has to be a reason for all of this skirmishing and maneuvering."

General Powers shook her head and walked toward the door. "Don't get too worked up over it, Colonel. Our strategy is working just fine. I have no problem with the enemy acting stupid- it's easier to kill them that way." She stopped in the doorway and nodded at the Intel console. "Just think of it as a really intense live-fire exercise. Revalen's getting the best combat training money can buy."

"Your Omniferocity, I recommend going to Trinity1 alert status."

A magnificently-gloved hand reached forth from the shadows and touched a control on the master console. A topograhic display of former Mongol nation and the nearby waters appeared on the gigantic display unit nearby.

You are concerned that this squabbling over the oil concessions near Mongol Prime might erupt into wider conflict?

The Warlord nodded briskly. "Yes. External Security reports indicate some sort of internal power struggle within the Council of Syndics. At least one faction seems to be spoiling for a fight with us."

I concur.

"My staff projects a probable major conflict with Revalen within 18-24 months. We might be able to stave off the inevitable for a few months more than that, but there's no practical means of avoiding it now."

Your projection of the probable outcome?

The Warlord hesitated slightly before answering. Despite the protection of Rule #34, he really did not want to be the bearer of bad news. "Your Omniferocity, Marshall King predicts that we woud easily win a conventional war with Revalen. My projection is less optimistic, but the outcome of a conventional conflict is not really in any doubt. The Dominion's population and resources- counting the occupied zones of Zurich and This Oughta Do- make victory a near-certainty."

Revalen's nuclear capabilities concern you.

"Among other things. Revalen is really no match for the Dominion in any conventional military sense. Even their military personnel acknowledge this. Their primary strengths are aerospace technology, nuclear engineering, and information warfare. Once the Council of Syndics realizes that they're out of their league militarily ..."

Then it would behoove you to develop some means of getting this avalanche under control ... before it buries us all.

Vrin Dirhan an Sel, First Among Equals in the Council of Syndics, strode into the Council Chamber. His normally fair features were dark with rage. The Chamber guards traded uneasy glances after the Chamber door was secured behind him. Everyone had heard the rumors. Today's Council meeting would not be a pleasant one.

Within the Chamber, Vrin went directly to the podium. The Chamber- awash with a score of murmured conversations- went suddenly silent. Vrin checked the electronic attendance display with a glance. His eyes narrowed on noting that the Syndic for Defense was not present.

The Syndics were quietly filing to their desks, but Vrin touched the 'Attention' button on the podium anyway. A blast of white noise from the speakers filled the Chamber, completely over-riding any possible conversation. Into the utter silence that followed, Vrin spoke, the directional microphones picking up his quiet voice and filling the room.

"This emergency meeting of the Council of Syndics is now in session. I now exercise my right as Head of the Council and require a verification of attendance. All Syndics will verify their presence in the Chamber now."

As he spoke, Vrin touched the gemstone of his ring to the computer scanner- which read the implanted microchip and recorded his physical presence in the Chamber. Each of the Syndics did likewise, with far less grumbling than would normally have been the case.

Vrin checked the tally. As he had suspected, several of the Syndics who had supposedly been present when he entered were not actually in the Chamber. He spoke again.

"Syndics, many of our brothers and sisters are not present. Did anyone not receive the Summons?"

Kour Velan an Gis- the Syndic for Records- signaled for permission to speak. Vrin recognized her on the keyboard, and the directional microphones focused on her as she rose to speak.

"Fellow Syndics, I received and recorded acknowledgements from all of the Council. The record is now being displayed." The huge display board lit with the authenticated receipt signals of all of the Syndics- including the 3 not present. "Do any dispute this record?"

No one spoke. She turned to the podium. "The Summons was received by all the Syndics, Lord Speaker."

Vrin nodded to Kour as she resumed her seat. "The Council thanks the Syndic for Records. Please display the text of the Summons."

The display changed.
The Council of Syndics is Summoned to an emergency session. The Council requires all Syndics to be present at 0100 on July 23rd, 2004. The crisis facing the nation is such that any Syndics who fail to attend put their positions in peril.

Vrin swept the Chamber with his eyes. "Does any Syndic challenge this Summons?" Silence was the only answer. "With no challenges, the Summons is accepted by the Council as a whole. Speaking for the Council, I demand to know why the Syndics for Defense, Information, and Trade are not present."

There was a collective gasp from the Council. Vrin's question put everyone on notice that he was prepared to remove the absent Syndics from their posts for failure to attend- a penalty that had never before been invoked.

Vrin's voice cut through the expectant quiet. "Speaking for the Council, I direct the Syndic for Security to locate and bring before the Council the missing Syndics to answer charges of malfeasance in Office and Treason."

The quiet Chamber burst into a babble of surprised speech. Several Syndics signaled for attention. Vrin recognized the Syndic for Production. "Lord Speaker, do you intend to invoke the Speaker's Privilege?"

"I do not. The Council will hear the charges against their fellow Syndics and decide the issue. The Syndic for Justice will preside." Several Syndics blinked in surprise at that. The Speaker had the privilege of presiding over any Council, but Vrin was permitting Somi Chiten ar Fuls, the universally respected Syndic for Justice, to preside over what promised to be a rare political battle royale.

Somi stood and was recognized by the Speaker. "Fellow Syndics, I will convene a special session following this emergency meeting." He resumed his seat.

Without preamble, Vrin called up a map display of the western coast of Revalen and the large island chain there. "Several months ago, the Mongol nation in the Redoubt islands dissolved into anarchy with the death of the Khan. Several dozen petty warlords carved out strongholds- each of them at war with the others."

"Several Syndics took advantage of the chaos to establish mercantile ties with several of the Noyan in the former Mongol nation. The shallow waters around the Redoubts are home to vast reserves of petroleum. Several lucrative deals were signed, increasing Revalen's access to inexpensive oil.

"The Evil Overlord also made arrangements around the Redoubts, and several Noyans have leased oil rights to Evil Overlord Enterprises. Most of this petroleum is sold to Revalen at reasonable prices.

"This peaceful state of affairs ended recently when several Noyans who deal with us attacked their neighbors- almost all of whom were business partners of EOE. These attacks were initially quite successful- largely due to the extensive arms shipments from Revalen to our trading partners.

"The Overlord's forces did not intervene at first. Then the Noyans who trade with us ordered their forces to attack the EOE Oil Lease Concessions. During the ensuing unpleasantness, most of our trading partners suffered serious losses. The end result was the reversal of almost all the gains taken by 'our' side.

"It was at this point that the Syndic for Defense ordered Revalen Armed Forces personnel to support our trading partners in the Redoubts." Several Syndics gasped audibly, and there was a buzz of conversation as Vrin continued.

"Subsequent to the arrival of Revalen military personnel, a so-called support operation went badly awry, resulting in a firefight between Revalen Armed Forces and the forces of the Overlord."

The Chamber was completely silent. Vrin nodded soberly and went on. "According to the reports I received, the Revalen troops were all killed in the firefight, along with the Mongol troops they were supporting. The Overlord's casualties are said to be insignificant."

Several Syndics rose and clamored for attention. Vrin ignored them. "I received a note from the Overlord's Ambassador yesterday afternoon, demanding an explanation of why Revalen Armed Forces were engaging in combat operations against EOE interests in the Redoubt Islands. I am here today to get the answer from the Council."

He glared at the Syndics, many of whom were visibly pale with concern. "Are we planning on going to war with the Overlord?"

Sergeant 'Smoky' Dubois watched the Revalen boats approach the beach and spat into the sand. Turning his head very slowly, he checked the position of his troops. Even though he already knew their positions, the men and women of 4th Platoon were nearly invisible in the mottled shadows of the tree line.

Smoky switched his optics to thermal and checked again. No changes. "Those new chillers for the battle dress work a treat!" he thought happily as he turned his attention back to the approaching patrol craft.

The electric drive motors of the sleek Revalen boats made almost no noise, he noted. All three boats mounted some sort of fixed gun forward. Smoky lowered his cheek to the stock of his Intruder and tapped up the magnification on the integral scope for a closer look. "Looks like about 20mm."

The dark grey shapes of the boats crunched softly into the gravel bottom a few meters from the actual waterline. Nervous troops in well-designed pattern-disruptive battle dress watched the shore intently over the barrels of their weapons. 4th platoon waited tensely at the ready, staring at the enemy over the sights of their own weapons.

A subdued red light flashed twice in Smoky's sight picture. His right forefinger slid inside his rifle's trigger guard as his left reached back behind him. The inside of the fingers of his left glove had been treated with a temperature-sensitive luminescent compound. He rubbed the fingers together to produce a slight- and very brief- glow. Just enough to make a few signals to his platoon.

Targets incoming. Five minutes. Hold and Freeze.

Smoky drew his hand in front of his face and watched the glow flicker out. "Can't risk radios around these Snoops" he thought, using the common EOE nickname for Revalen troops. "If they could fight as well as they handle electrons, we might be in a bit of trouble."

Long seconds later, a series of slight sounds to Smoky's left told him that the Snoop infantry platoon was finally arriving. Moving only his eyes, he watched the grey-and-black clad shapes slink onto the beach. Half of them immediately set up a loose defensive perimeter, facing back into the trees. The rest slung their weapons and waded out to the boats.

Crewmen on the boats began loading boxes into the waiting arms of the wading troops. Smoky grinned tightly. "Captain sure called this one!" he exulted mentally. "After we snapped up the last three Wog attempts to get supplies in, the Snoops would try to run it themselves." Smoky watched the laden troops drop their burdens on the beach and return for another load.

The sudden roar of aircraft engines to Smoky's right caught him by surprise, even though he'd been expecting it. "Not tonight, Snoops! Your buddies trapped in Chongwe ain't getting any supplies tonight!"

The two GS-9 Buccaneers swept into view 2 klicks distant as Smoky finished his triumphant thought. The twin 30mm Hephaestus chain guns in the noses of the odd-looking planes were already spitting fire into the grounded boats. Smoky saw the water churn white a dozen meters in front of the boats as the first rounds were aimed deliberately short, and then the wave of froth swept over the boats and the wading troops as the pilots 'walked' their fire on target.

The tungsten/osmium bullets were designed to destroy main battle tanks at a distance of 3 klicks. The rounds would probably pass through all three lightly armored patrol boats the long way. All three boats came apart under the devastating hail slightly too fast to explode- although stubborn flames floated sluggishly around the shattered hulls for several minutes afterwards.

Smoky discovered to his chagrin that he'd forgotten to take his NVGs off of 'thermal' imaging as per orders. The ten-meter muzzle blasts from the four guns blinded him. Mentally calling himself ninety different types of a fool, he fired his rifle to signal 4th platoon to engage, then immediately ceased fire, closed his eyes, and dropped behind his cover while he waited for his night vision to come back.

The thunder of the Buccaneers' engines as they roared by at their top speed of 600 kph drowned out most of the firefight that followed. After the planes had gone, Smoky only heard a few scattered shots off to his left. There was a rattle of answering fire in the sharper notes of the Snoops' carbines. Smoky opened his eyes and learned that he could see again.

Swiftly rising to a crouch, Smoky waved to three privates he saw moving along the tree line toward the firing. A few quick hand signals put them into a quick 3 and 1 formation and heading directly into the trees at a right angle to the firing.

Several minutes later, Smoky waved his three followers into a crouch. He figured that they'd moved a good two hundred meters from where they'd started, making a wide arc to the right that should put them behind where the last of the Snoop platoon was still holding out against 4th platoon.

He hand-signaled his troops. You. Security. You and you. With me. I lead.

The firing ahead slacked off a few seconds after they set out. Smoky immediately waved his men into a broad 'vee' pointing toward the beach and dropped prone. They had just settled in when the Snoops came at them on the run.

There were 6 of them- moving fast but still in good order in single file. Smoky let the first three go by him, then filled his sight picture with a grey chest and squeezed the trigger. The recoil came as a surprise- the way it always did when you did it right. The three-round burst dropped the Snoop in mid-step as his chest erupted under the impact of all three 11.5mm rounds.

Rolling left, Smoky caught a glimpse of grey in motion to his right. He fired another burst, and cursed silently as a sledgehammer smacked him on the right leg. The impact knocked him down on his side, so he rolled twice to get out of the Snoop's line of fire and froze, listening intently. He suddenly realized what had just happened. "That Snoop damned near punched my ticket!" he thought in shock. "I can't let this bastard get away!" Any Snoop that good at his job needed to get put in a body bag ASAP, before he could infect any of the others with his skill.

Hearing a slight noise to his left, Smoky switched his optics back to 'thermal'. Snoop IR discipline was even better than the Dominion's, but not even Snoops could control the background movement. Now that the noise warned him where to look, Smoky could track the Snoop's progress by the changes in the background heat levels.

"Bastard's tracking me" Smoky realized. A quick rattle of fire from ahead told him that his team was dealing with the others, so he looked back the way he'd come. There were bright patches on the ground leading to where he lay. Smoky rolled over with another internal curse. "I'm bleeding! Bullet must've gone through the joint in my thigh armor."

Thinking quickly, Smoky crawled quietly off to his right, about 30 degrees to the left of his previous course. "C'mon then, Snoop." he snarled silently.

A sudden change in the wind brought the smell of Snoop gunpowder to Smoky. He froze, realizing that the Snoop had somehow managed to get behind him. Moving like a ghost, the Snoop stepped out from behind a tree to Smoky's left.

He was tall- easily two meters- and thin, like most Snoops. He held his carbine in his right hand, like an oversized pistol. The muzzle of the weapon moved back and forth across the arc of underbrush in front of him. His left hand was clutched tightly to his side, where a bright patch told Smoky that the man was bleeding badly.

Smoky held absolutely still. He watched the Snoop out of the corner of his eyes, never looking directly at him. Under other circumstances, Smoky would have trusted his reflexes to get a kill shot into the Snoop before the Snoop got a round through Smoky's armor, but he wasn't about to try that. Not against this Snoop. This Snoop was fast enough and accurate enough to shoot Smoky to pieces despite his armor- if Smoky gave him the slightest chance to do so.

So Smoky waited as the Snoop stalked silently into Smoky's field of fire. At the last second, the man's skill at woodcraft dawned on Smoky. "He was making noises on purpose earlier! Trying to sucker me into his sights!"

Smoky twitched his rifle barrel so the Snoop's torso filled his sight picture and squeezed the trigger. Warned by the movement, the Snoop spun quickly to his left, his own finger tightening on the carbine's trigger. Both weapons coughed at the same instant.

Then there was silence.

4th platoon wouldn't find the two men until six hours later, as the cold light of dawn streaked the sky golden. They lay face down in the underbrush, their heads nearly touching, both fingers still on the triggers.

"Day-yum, el-tee!" Private Eckhardt said when the platoon leader arrived to inspect the scene. "Maybe some o' the Snoops got sand in their craws after all."

Yasuhiro Nagami waited with practiced patience in the comfortably austere waiting room. His face was calm and the few movements as he sipped his coffee and smoked his cigar were smooth and graceful. A lifetime of service in the Diplomatic Corps had augmented his abundant personal talents in granting him an impenetrable poker face. If the long wait- nearly an hour by the evidence in the ashtray at his elbow- was disturbing him, no trace of it showed in his face.

He smiled slowly as the Syndic's secretary scurried through the room to her desk without making eye contact. He kept the smile in place until the young woman took a peek at him in the reflective window opposite her desk. She yanked her eyes away and busied herself with some papers. Nagami's smile faded slowly. The Snoops could play their mind games until they were blue in the face. He was a past master at the waiting game. And he held all of the aces in this particular deck of cards.

Thirty minutes later, Vrin Dirhan an Sel- the Speaker for the Revalen Council of Syndics- opened the door to his office and beckoned Nagami within. He stubbed out the excellent cigar he'd just started and sauntered casually into the nearly Spartan office.

He slid easily into one of the chairs opposite the desk and nodded to the other two Syndics in the room. He knew them both by sight- the Syndics for Security and Communications- and furthermore had a good idea why they were present. Neither responded, save perhaps by a slight hardening of their expressions.

The Speaker sat gracelessly in his chair. "Ambassador Nagami, allow me to apologize for the long delay in admitting you."

Nagami waved a hand to dismiss the matter. "That is of no importance, Dirhan Vrin. You doubtless had many other matters to attend to." He smiled broadly as he spoke.

Vrin nodded gratefully. "I understand that you have a communication for the Council from your government."

Nagami arched an eyebrow. Vrin was getting directly to the point. This was completely out of character for the man, who was a consummate master of rhetoric and normally enjoyed the verbal swordplay of diplomacy. "This internal power struggle must really be wearing on him" he thought. It would also explain the presence of the other two Syndics.

"Quite so. Since you are being ... direct, I will as well." Nagami drew an envelope from inside his coat and handed it across the desk. "That is a report from the Department of Aggression on the nasty situation in the Redoubt Islands- specifically, on the Island and city of Chongwe."

Sobil Lardin ar Bessin- the Syndic for Communications- grimaced. Nagami pretended not to notice. "To sum up the report, the battalion of Revalen Marines in Chongwe is cut off from outside assistance- as are the estimated four thousand Mongol soldiers they are supposedly supporting. EOE troops have reconquered the island, and the city is an essentially untenable position from a military perspective. Despite the repeated attempts by Revalen Special Forces personnel to relieve the city."

He paused for comment, but no one spoke. Nagami continued. "You are in an increasingly untenable position yourselves. If those Marines are killed or captured when Dominion troops re-take the city- which I assume you realize is inevitable- you will be summarily expelled from office and replaced by the recently-deposed Syndic for Defense."

The silent glances between the three Syndics told Nagami that he'd scored an important point. "This leaves you with several options- none of which are pleasant."

"His Omniferocity has instructed me to remove some of those options. Accordingly, I will depart Revalen with my staff at the conclusion of this meeting. All Revalen Embassy personnel in FreePort will be expelled as soon as I arrive. Your Embassy will be closed. As I speak, the Dominion's borders with Revalen are being secured. The Reserves have been mobilized, and all operational warships are at sea. Revalen diplomatic personnel in the occupied nations of Zurich and This Oughta Do are likewise being expelled, and those territories' borders with Revalen are being secured."

The Syndic for Security began to speak, but Vrin cut him off with a gesture. He looked Nagami in the eye and nodded for him to continue. "By the most conservative estimate, the EOE military outnumbers Revalen's military by approximately three-to-one. In qualitative terms, the military advantage is even more in the Dominion's favor. Do any of you dispute this?"

Vrin glanced at his fellow Syndics, then shook his head. "The details differ somewhat, but that is approximately our analysis, as well." He frowned at Nagami. "What options were you planning on leaving us?"

Nagami inclined his head with a slight smile. "There are essentially only two remaining choices: immediately start a suicidal war with the Dominion, or agree to the Overlord's terms."

Vrin's frown deepened. "I assume you realize that Revalen will not allow itself to be invaded and occupied like This Oughta Do. We may not win, but we have the power to ensure that you do not win either."

Nagami laughed aloud, startling the others. "Here are the terms of His Omniferocity:
One- EOE military personnel will rescue a unit of Revalen Marines who are trapped in Chongwe by local insurgents. The Revalen troops will be immediately returned to their homeland with all of their equipment- along with any other Revalen troops who might be in the former Mongol nation. The Dominion military presence will be reduced to pre-crisis levels and will be restricted to providing security for the EOE Oil Concessions once this is accomplished.

"Two- Revalen and the Dominion will refrain from future military attempts to dominate the Redoubt Islands, Any future competition will be political and economic. Both sides will use gentle persuasion and example to win the hearts and minds of the Mongols. The selling of arms and equipment across the Redoubts will be permitted by both sides- with the exception of heavy weapons and vehicles. Both sides will make good-faith efforts to prevent the raiding and small-scale warfare among their trading partners.

"Three- Revalen will formally and publicly recognize the Dominion's ownership of Amida Island, This Oughta Do, and Zurich. The Revalen embassies in the latter two nations will not be re-opened."

Vrin sighed heavily. "Those are extremely generous terms-essentially a return to the status quo ante. I cannot agree at once, but I will convene the Council tonight to consider it." He sighed again, then speared Nagami with an extremely hard look. "Why is His Omniferocity being so magnanimous?"

"There are two sayings in the Dominion that you may wish to keep in mind." Nagami rose smoothly to his feet and smiled beatifically at the Syndics. "The first is, War is bad for business."

He turned and stepped to the door. As he turned the knob, he turned his head and said, "The other saying is, Make your enemies by choice, not by accident. Good day, gentlemen."

Monitor Chiso Foran ducked behind the shattered wall of what used to be a restaurant and moved carefully up to his maniple's position on the edge of the shrinking perimeter. He risked a glance over the wall at the enemy positions, then slipped into the maniple's observation post.

Tors an Hasin, the maniple's Senior, grunted at Chiso. "What's the word?"

Chiso checked the post's dwindling ammunition supplies and looked around carefully. Once he was sure there were no Mongols nearby, he answered his superior. "We're pulling out." he said in a low voice.

Tors had noted Chiso's hesitation, and lowered his voice in turn. "What's going on?"

Reaching out for an extra magazine to fill one of his empty pouches, Chiso shook his head. "Folks back home cut a deal with the Overlord to save our asses."

Tors grabbed Chiso's arm. "What sort of deal?" he demanded.

After another quick look to ensure privacy, Chiso whispered, "We're going to be rescued by the Dominion troopers out there. Probably tomorrow."

Finally understanding Chiso's paranoid checking for eavesdroppers, Tors looked around carefully before whispering, "And what about our noble allies, here?"

"They're who we're being rescued from, Senior."

"That sucks!" Tors was livid. "We came here to help these people. A lot of these guys have risked their lives for us! They overran Chongwe because we told them we'd back them up!"

Chiso raised a hand in warning, and Tors lowered his voice again. "You know what'll happen to them, don't you?"

Nodding soberly, Chiso said, "My grandfather told me what it's like to fight the Overlord."

Tors stared out over the expanse of ruins that used to be a prosperous city. "Those bastards will kill them all."

Chiso tapped the butt of his carbine on the ground. Tors looked back at him. "It could be worse. Intel says the Dominion’s been landing heavy equipment out at Fulong. By this time tomorrow, there'll be a company of tanks over there." Chiso nodded his head in the direction of the enemy lines. "Without this deal, we'd be getting buried right alongside the locals in a couple of days."

Tors replied bitterly, "It still isn't right."

"Listen up, you well-bred little pup!" Chiso leaned close and hissed fiercely. "You think that we've been fighting a war, here. You're dead wrong. Both sides have been keeping it light and low-key. Small arms only." He waved a hand west toward the Dominion tanks that were landing at Fulong. "Tomorrow or the day after, the Overlord is going to show the locals what a real war looks like. I'd rather not be on the receiving end of that demonstration.

"The Overlord decided to raise the stakes in this game. He raised 'em so high, our government decided it was too expensive to stay in the game. What do you suppose would happen if the entire Force was wiped out here?"

Tors, taken aback by the Monitor's outburst, mumbled that he didn't know.

"Aside from the very important fact that we would be dead, the Federation's military reputation would be demolished. The government would formally declare war on the Overlord, and everything you knew and loved would probably be smoldering radioactive glass inside of a month."

Tors stared at Chiso for a long moment, then lowered his eyes. "I still don't like it."

"You don't have to like it. You just have to obey orders. Your orders are to pull the maniple back to the embassy compound and dig in. The locals will not be told what is happening."

"What if they figure it out for themselves?"

Chiso grinned like a shark. "Then we really will be getting rescued by the Dominion. Get 'em moving, Senior."

It took nearly five hours to get the entire Marine cohort back to the old Revalen Lease Concession section of the city. Several minor skirmishes took place between patrolling Dominion soldiers and Revalen Marines, but casualties had been light on both sides. Prior Fanus Dirhan an Cas wondered about that. He hoped it meant that the Dominion was just helping cover the Marine's withdrawal, but he feared that the Overlord's soldiers hadn't yet been informed of the upcoming 'Rescue'.

He turned to the cohort commander, Legate Pors Arval an Dos, and reported that the new perimeter had been secured. The Legate grunted acknowledgement. None of the Marines were happy with the situation, but the senior cohort leaders all knew that it was the only hope of keeping their men alive.

Fanus caught the eye of the communications technician setting up his burst transmitter near the back wall of the courtyard. The young man nodded curtly and pointed his transmitter at a tall spire on the western edge of the city.

The Legate's display immediately flickered slowly to life. The screen steadied into a montage of views from the western edge of Chongwe, all images from the tiny cameras the Marines had planted as they fought a stubborn rear-guard action back through town days ago. The transmitter was operated by the Marines' sole surviving Spec-Ops soldier, who had remained behind in a cunningly disguised observation post near the old Mosque- whose minaret concealed the transceiver antenna. As long as no one knocked the old Mosque down, the Marines would get some intelligence data of the Overlord's advance.

A Monitor from the IVth maniple slid into the command post. Fanus waved him over. "What about the fuel situation, Monitor?"

The man shook his head. "Sorry, sir. We have about thirty-five gallons, is all. We got most of that from scavenging through the wrecked civilian vehicles on the streets while making our way here."

Fanus thought for a moment, then ordered, "Very well. First priority for the generators. Get that set up, and make sure the chargers are at full capacity."

IVth Maniple specialized in electronics, and had a separate file of engineering troops for maintaining the staggering amount of high-tech gear all Revalen soldiers were blessed with. Re-charging the batteries was becoming a life-or-death priority. Without batteries, the communications and detection gear that gave the Marines overwhelming superiority over their former Mongol allies would fail. Without the electronics, the thousands of Mongol troops surrounding them might overwhelm the Marines. Mongols who would soon be discovering that they'd been betrayed.

The Monitor departed. Fanus reported the situation to the Legate, who cursed briefly. "You would think that an island that exports oil would have lots of spare fuel lying around."

The Prior didn't bother to reply. Both men knew that the constant internecine warfare that had been wracking the Redoubt Islands since the Khan's death had completely destroyed the Mongols' capacity to produce and sell petroleum and its by-products. What few stocks had existed were long since consumed by the soldiers of the various Noyans as they struggled for mastery.

The gentle purr of the cohort's generators starting up relaxed both officers slightly. Soon the depleted batteries would be getting re-charged, and the Marines' technological superiority over the Mongols would be restored. As the initial load stabilized, the sound whispered into silence- the product of decades of research. The Legate smiled grimly at Fanus, who nodded in reply. They still had a chance.

Fanus was about to speak when his communicator crackled to life. "Moon-3, this is Two-6. We have three-zero bandits approaching position Romeo."

The Senior of IInd Maniple had been trained to sound calm under all circumstances, and the training held. His voice was clear and precise, even as he reported that his observation post- manned by two Marines- was being approached by many times that number of possible hostiles.

"Two-6, Moon-3. Do we have an ID on the bandits?"

"Moon-3, Two-6. Affirmative. Local troopers with small arms and RPGs."

Fanus locked eyes with his Legate, who started giving orders on another frequency. "Two-6, Moon-3. Hang on, Senior. Friendlies are on the way."

IInd Maniple's Senior Leader replied at once. "Moon-3, Two-6. Bandits are showing a white flag. The observation post reports bandits are calling on a loudspeaker for a parley."

"Two-6, Moon-3. Wait one." Fanus waited until the Legate finished alerting the cohort and raised an eyebrow. Pors thought for a moment, then nodded. He raised one hand- palm out- to Fanus and laid three fingers of his other hand across the palm. Fanus nodded, then pointed toward the bullet-splattered hotel across the street from the compound.

Receiving his superior's nod of approval, Fanus spoke into the radio. "Two-6, Moon-3. You will permit three unarmed locals within your perimeter. IIIrd Maniple will escort all three to point Sierra. Moon-3, out"

Twenty minutes later, with the cohort on full alert, Prior Fanus stepped into the lobby of the ruined hotel. Five Marines guarded the three Mongols. Fanus nodded to the Monitor of the group, and they withdrew out of earshot.

One of the Mongols noticed Fanus and turned to face him. "I am Ghurkhan Aguchu of the Khorilar. These are men of my arban. Do you speak for the Ch'agua?"

"I am Prior Fanus Dirhan an Cas, and I speak for my people. I greet you, Aguchu of the Khorilar. You bear an honorable name." The Mongol swelled visibly with pride. It was rare that Ch'agua- outsiders- knew much Mongol history.

Aguchu stepped closer to Fanus and spoke softly. "I do not speak for the entire minghan. I speak only for my jagun. We wish to go with you."

Fanus struggled mightily to keep the surprise from showing on his face. Aguchu was demonstrating a surprising degree of sophistication. He had puzzled out the reason for the sudden withdrawal of the Marines and reached the correct conclusions. He had also realized that the four thousand or so troops remaining of the original six were doomed- and he wanted to save his jagun- a unit of roughly 100 men- by departing with the Marines.

"I see that we have no secrets from you, Aguchu. All the men of your jagun are agreed to this?"

Aguchu smiled wearily. "Even the meanest of us can see that we have been driven into a trap from which there is no escape but death. They see that your people are preparing to depart, and they think that our previous friendship will gain a place in your ranks.

"Perhaps I can see more clearly than most, for I find wariness in your eyes. You think that perhaps accepting us would be holding a viper to your breast, yes?"

Shaking his head and smiling, Fanus said, "Were you born a witch, Aguchu? You see truly."

The Mongol was silent for a moment. He reached out and gripped Fanus by the arm. "I will remain in your ayil as hostage while my sworn brothers prepare the jagun to join you. As proof of our trustworthiness, I tell you that Tarkhan Jochi prepares to attack you. A feint will be made toward your western outposts, while the main force strikes from the sewers."

Fanus looked steadily at the smaller man for a long moment. "If this attack happens as you say, you may bring your people within our camp afterwards."

"May my spirit pass into the claws of Erlik Khan if I prove false"

"It will, I assure you." Fanus offered his hand to Aguchu. "And may your people henceforth call you Aguchu Sechen- the Wise- if you prove true."

The Mongol war leader shook hands solemnly with the Revalen Marine. "Let us pray that we never regret this meeting, Prior Fanus Dirhan an Cas."

Fanus looked Aguchu in the eye and said, "I never speak for the uncertain tomorrow. For now, it is enough to plan for the certainties of tonight."

Silently, he added to himself, "If we both survive this night, I will personally see to it that you reach safety. Revalen needs all the friends like you we can get."

Corporal Alice 'Kookie' Toller tapped a diagnostic command into the main computer of Leviathan. Hendricks and Lemay- the other member's of Leviathan's crew- were performing a thorough inspection of the treads, drive wheels, and idler wheels. Once the Zhukov MBT was considered ready for the road, all three troopers would lower the armored skirts and Leviathan would be ready to rock and roll.

The computer diagnostic completed its checklist, and Kookie double-checked the weapons load out by eye. 40 120mm rounds for the Poniard main gun; 4000 30mm rounds for the coaxial chain gun; 1600 rounds of 11.5mm for the Incursion machine gun on the cupola for Kookie to use as Track Commander, and 45 30mm HE grenades for the Marauder auto feed grenade launcher slung under the Incursion's barrel completed the full combat load. Strictly against regulations, two more boxes of ammo each for the machine gun and the grenade launcher were stored under the TC's seat. Hendricks and Lemay had also brought along some insurance- each man had a modified Intruder battle rifle slung near the driver and gunner seats, with two boxes of ammo under the seats.

Ammo check complete, Kookie crawled out the TC hatch in the tank's cupola and slid onto the back deck to check the propellant and CO2 tanks in their separate armored box behind the cupola. All four LNG propellant tanks read full, as were the three CO2 tanks. Normally, the CO2 was used to chill Leviathan's exhaust to defeat infrared detection. Here on Chongwe, the Mongols didn't have any sophisticated sensors, so the CO2 was configured for fire suppression in the engine compartment.

Satisfied with the gases, Kookie called Hendricks to help her open the access hatch to the engine compartment. The hatch itself was counterweighted for easier access, but the lever for the multiple latches that secured it required a lot of muscle to open. She jumped down from the back deck and slid under the hull as Hendricks dropped to the ground beside her. Kookie unlocked the hatch while Hendricks braced his feet against the right tread torsion bars and grabbed the unlocking lever. When the lock clicked open, Kookie put her boot on the opposite side of the bar and pushed while Hendricks pulled. The multiple clinks as the four locking bars disengaged were drowned out by the explosive grunts from the two troopers' final effort.

"Corporal, why do they make that damned thing so hard to open?" Hendricks asked, wheezing a bit.

Kookie caught her breath and shook her head. "I'd rather it was tough to open, Toby." she said after a minute. "If it was easy, then it would be a gaping hole in the armor if an enemy round or mine hit us just right."

Hendricks coughed and crawled back out from under Leviathan to resume his checking of the treads. "Holler when you're ready to lock it down again."

Kookie waved tiredly and stuck her head inside the access hatch. The massive underbelly armor impressed her as it always did. She unclipped the inspection mirror and visually checked all of the lines and cables on the relatively small diesel engine. She also checked the fuel tank for leaks.

The Zhukov III main battle tanks used a much smaller engine than most other tanks. This was the result of decades of EOE research into medium-temperature superconductors. Better superconductors allowed for smaller, more powerful electric motors. The tank's drive wheels were actually powered by integral electric motors within the armored hull. The diesel engine was used solely to run the generators for the drive motors and charge the tank's batteries. This also allowed for better armor integrity and lighter engines- which translated into better protection for the tank and its crew.

After half an hour, the unloading checklists were finally complete, and Kookie reported Leviathan ready for action. Sergeant Goya, the 3rd Platoon's acting platoon leader, acknowledged from the cupola of the command tank, Flyswatter. "Blue-6 to Blue-2, roger. Break. All Blue units, Blue-6. Ground guides are on the way to lead us to the Company Assembly Point. Locals are supposed to be friendly, so all drivers will operate unbuttoned until we get to the laager."

Kookie grumbled from the driver's seat, but obediently hit the hydraulic hatch control and raised his seat so his head was outside the armored hull. Kookie acknowledged the order as she hit her own seat's power lift and rose out of the cupola. She checked that the TC's dual weapon was on safe, then turned the muzzle back and forth to make sure it would move freely if she needed it.

Kookie swiveled her head around constantly as Leviathan rumbled along the streets to the market square that was the Assembly Point for the 291st Strike Company. If any of the wogs so much as thought about aiming a weapon at Leviathan she'd spray the entire neighborhood with the machine gun and the grenade launcher. She looked around and saw that the other four Track Commanders were doing the same thing. They were all veterans, and they knew that intelligence was often wrong about the friendliness of the locals. Most of the EOE troopers were very peaceful folks, and they all knew that there was nothing quite as peaceful as a dead troublemaker.

Leviathan sat in a defensive laager with the other four Zhukov III main battle tanks in 3rd platoon, 291st Strike Company, 11th Battalion, 495th Assault Brigade. Twelve Raschid Infantry Fighting Vehicles were spaced between the tanks. The center of the laager was occupied by the six support LAVs, the command vehicle, and four Scimitar air-defense vehicles. The Mongols were extremely unlikely to have any functional aircraft or missiles with which to threaten the company, but it was possible. The twin 30mm Hephaestus chain guns on each vehicle were equally effective when manually directed at ground targets, which made them doubly useful.

Kookie acknowledged a warning order from Captain Joyeuse, the company CO. She flipped her weapons off ‘safe’ and keyed the intercom as she pulled the charging handle on the machine gun’s receiver. “Off and on, boys and girls! Leviathan’s going to war!”

The 291st Strike Company rolled sedately through the streets of Fulong with only minor damage to the city’s buildings. Once free of the confining central district, the company shook itself out into the dispersed maneuver columns Sierra-6 had ordered. Each tank led a column of three Raschid-II LAVs filled with troops, a Scimitar, and one of the Raschid support vehicles. The command vehicle, four Durendal Mobile guns, and the remaining LAVs drove slightly behind the two center columns. The four AH-30 Zulu attack helicopters roared overhead and scouted the routes to the city of Chongwe. Five similar company formations to each side of the 291st churned up dust as the Battalion led the way to re-take the city. 1600 veteran combat troopers confidently preparing to assault a city held by three times their number of Mongol soldiers.

The Mongols manning observation posts around Chongwe sent the word to Tarkhan Jochi- the warlord who had wrested control of the city from the Overlord two weeks before. Jochi quickly ordered his men into their defensive positions along the expected point of attack. He was confident that he would be able to destroy the far smaller force being sent against him. Once the Dominion solders had been driven off, he would turn his attention back to the task of punishing the Revalen Marines who had betrayed him.

The Legate of the Revalen Marine Force in Chongwe had a better view of the approaching Dominion columns than the Tarkhan. He watched the Overlord’s Juggernaut rolling toward the city and shivered slightly. He knew that he could very easily have been on the receiving end of the impending assault, and was well aware that his Marines would not have been capable of significantly altering the inevitable outcome. The Marines’ discipline and equipment made them far more effective than the Mongols, but the lack of heavy weapons, ammunition, and other supplies caused by the week-long siege of the city had reduced their capabilities to the point where resisting the Overlord’s armored attack would be as effective as resisting the incoming tide.

As the Dominion’s combined-arms assault began, Pors Arval an Dos forced himself to watch as the disciplined EOE veterans smashed easily through the lightly armed Mongols at the outskirts of Chongwe. He watched, and he memorized every move …

… for future reference.

The Raschid-II IFV sighed to a halt, and Juan Escobar followed his squad mates out into the steamy tropical dawn. Rapid shots from some foreign-made weapon were sounding in the near distance, but the immediate area was surreally quiet for a battlefield.

Juan doubled left to cover his section of the squad's perimeter. He stumbled slightly when the forward 30mm of Hellraiser- the vehicle that had carried the squad- let loose a couple of bursts into the city. Juan cursed silently and rolled into position. His main worry at the moment was that he really needed to take a piss.

He checked the immediate area for threats over the sights of his Intruder battle rifle.
A street scene from Hell: bullet-spattered buildings, shattered glass and concrete, demolished civilian vehicles of an unfamiliar type. Juan checked the upper floors of the obviously residential district's buildings in his area of responsibility for movement, then tabbed the 'transmit' key without speaking.

Corporal Duwayo spoke on the squad push. "Okay, Children, here's the plan. About three klicks due east of here is the old EOE concession compound. There's a battalion of Revalen Marines holed up there, trapped by the Mongols. We're gonna bust 'em out."

There was dead silence for several seconds, followed by a babble of conversation. Juan didn't join in, though he was as confused as the others. "I thought we were fighting the Snoops," he thought. "Aren't they the ones backing the Mongols?"

The Corporal cut across the chatter. "Shut it off! I wasn't opening a goddamned debate, I was passing along the orders from Captain Modoc. Does anyone have anything useful to say?"

Superior Private Wyland chimed in. "Just us, or does the rest of the company get a share in the glory?" Juan smiled at the scorn in her voice. Gloria Wyland was Juan's personal proof of why it was good to have two sexes. Too bad she didn't even know he existed.

Duwayo laughed on the circuit. "The rest of the platoon will be on parallel courses through the city to the target zone." A red light flashed in Juan's visor, and he grabbed his display unit attached to his rifle sling. A small map appeared. A narrow red line ran through the map- the route Juan's squad would be taking. Four green lines- two on each side of the red one- indicated the tracks of the other squads.

"You all will notice that we risk hitting some of our own in just about any direction. To make sure we don't do that, the Durendal's will start artillery prep in five mikes. Battery five, all antipersonnel. A final barrage will be smoke.

"Once the hogs start shooting, everyone will damp their IR signature and put on their spookeyes- set for active IR." Juan nodded soberly. The Jaguar combat armor the EOE troopers wore was equipped with a CO2 canister that would cool their infrared signature by several degrees. With smoke blinding the optical range, the squad should be able to tell friend from foe. The Mongols didn't have sophisticated technology to match it, and their soldiers would be mostly blind.

"Anything else?" No one answered the Corporal's question. Juan took the opportunity to shift an additional drum of 11.5mm ammo from his pack to the front of his web gear. The extra canteen it replaced went into the pack. Each drum held 100 rounds, and Juan now had four extra magazines ready to hand. This would normally be an extreme load, but all of the Dominion soldiers had received booster injections of FTS before sailing from Kaligrad. It was still a punishing burden, but more manageable.

The sky began to howl behind Juan, and he scrunched a little lower next to the IFV. He'd heard stories from some of the older troopers about the fighting in This Oughta Do. All it took was some redleg transposing a number or dropping a decimal point and one of the artillery rounds shaking the air above him would fall short. The Corporal's voice came back. "All right, children. Hit your chillers."

Juan rolled over and made sure the tiny canister was securely fastened, and then hit the activation button. He rolled back into position and looked down the street as a bunch of Mongols ran into the street a hundred meters ahead. He called a warning and shifted his muzzle to bear on the dozen or so wogs just as a series of small pops sounded from overhead.

A 170mm artillery shell reached it's programmed destination and set off the precursor charges. Thirty or so sub munitions were blasted forward in a cone along the shell's original ballistic track. With the carrier shell deploying at 50 meters altitude, the 'footprint' covered by the sub munitions was on the order of 100 meters across. The buildings along the street reduced the splash area still more.

A continuous rippling blast shook the ground as the sub munitions hit, then detonated a tenth of a second later- just long enough for the fragmentation explosives to bounce a meter or so into the air. The Mongols seemed to melt in the roar of flame and shrapnel rather than disintegrate. Juan stared at the scene in shock for a moment, then lowered his head again.

More shells swept the streets ahead of him. The ground and the sky shrieked in unison for what seemed to Juan an eternity. The roaring of the sky stopped abruptly, and Juan looked up to see the city ahead of him suddenly vanish in a sea of grey smoke.

"Spookeyes on, children." Duwayo's calm voice came across the squad push like a bath in ice water, jerking Juan out of his reverie with a start. "Set your comms on preset 4, mind your targets, and let's get moving. I got a hot date tonight, and you mopes had better not make me late."

Juan thumbed his Night Vision Goggles- called spookeyes by most troopers down and hit the button twice to set it on 'active' IR. The smoke in front of him opened up into a cartoon negative rendering of the street. He stared over his rifle sights until Senior Private Hayes stepped into view. Juan stood unsteadily, then followed Hayes into the grey city.

The first hundred meters were fairly calm. Juan was number four in his five-man section. This put him behind Hayes and Nguyen and on the left side of the rear trio. Bonilla had the right side, and Kuryova had the Marauder grenade launcher in the center.

Juan's section moved swiftly down the street, keeping close to the buildings on the right side. Juan swallowed hard as the group passed a splash of brightness on the street that was all that remained of the Mongols who'd died in the artillery prep.

A snarl of automatic weapons fire ahead sent the section into a crouch. Hayes signaled left. Juan swallowed again, then dashed ahead at a slight angle to the rest of the section. He dropped behind a lamppost that had fallen across the street and looked over his sights toward the source of the sound. He scanned the street ahead, then raised his vision in stages to the roofs and upper floors. He spotted the Mongol position just as the machine gun opened fire again.

The gun was sited behind a shattered window on the second floor of a building 200 meters down the street. The wogs manning the gun couldn't see anything in the smoke, but the man at the trigger was sweeping the street at intervals to discourage anyone from trying to approach.

Juan shook his head in contempt, then rolled over and signaled to Senior Hayes. Hayes tapped his helmet over his ear with his left hand, telling Juan it was okay to use the radio. Juan called out, "Oscar 3-6, Oscar-4. Machine gun nest, 200 meters, second floor, left."

"Roger that, Oscar-4." Juan was amazed that Hayes could be so calm. He was certain his own voice was a terrified squeak. "Oscar-5, you and Oscar-4 move left down the street and take them out."

Private Kuryova jogged across the street and waved Juan ahead toward the target. He rolled from behind the downed aluminum pole and jogged down the sidewalk ahead of her. He heard Hayes get the rest of the section moving quietly down the other sidewalk, then started paying attention to the immediate problem. "Can't do the other man's job," he muttered to himself.

The wogs at the gun started spraying the street again. Juan lurched to his left through a shattered window to get out of the line of fire, then froze. There were six Mongols sneaking slowly into the building over the remains of the back wall.

Shaking out of the shock of surprise, Juan thumbed his Intruder to 'burst' and pulled the trigger. He immediately jumped to his right- to avoid return fire and clear the window for Kuryova. He fired again, two of the wogs were down, one was firing blindly into the thinning smoke at the far wall, but there was no sign of the others. He aimed carefully and squeezed off a burst at the panicky gunman, who slumped over the broken wall.

Kuryova followed the barrel of her weapon into the room through the window and immediately flattened against the wall to the right of the opening. She held up a hand and waved it across her face. She hadn't seen anything.

Juan held up his left hand with three fingers up, then turned it over so the fingers were down, then waved the hand in front of his face. 3 down, 3 up. I don't know where they are.

Kuryova nodded, then waved Juan toward the ruined back wall. He carefully stepped over the rubble, sweeping the area to his left with the muzzle of his rifle. He saw a hint of movement in the alley outside the room and froze. He crouched low and waved a hand to Kuryova. He pointed a fist toward the alley and motioned down.

Kuryova shifted so a fallen roof beam was between her and the alley, then poked the barrel of her grenade launcher around it. She fired down the alley to Juan's right, then twitched the muzzle and fired again to the left. The 30mm fragmentation grenades hit the far side of the alley and exploded a half-second apart.

As soon as the second grenade went off, Juan dove over the ruined wall into the alley and rolled against the wall of the building on the other side. He was facing to Kuryova's left, so he spun the two wogs there down in a spray of blood with two bursts. He was turning to face the other way when the crackle of fire from the remaining Mongol spit down the alley toward him. He felt a sledgehammer hit him in the side and tumbled into the pile of garbage behind him. He twisted as he fell and fired blindly toward the shooter. Kuryova leaned over the wall and fired the remaining three rounds in her magazine down the alley, then dropped back behind the wall to re-load.

Juan rolled free of the garbage pile and looked over his sights down the alley. Nothing. No shooter, no corpse. He rose clumsily to his feet and stepped forward to look farther. Aside from debris and garbage, the alley was empty. He turned and motioned Kuryova to follow as he started down the alley toward the machine gun nest.

Kuryova stopped him by grabbing his arm. "Juan, wait." She lifted his left arm and checked his armor for penetration, turning him completely around. She laughed and pointed at one of the ammo drums on Juan's web gear. Two bullets from the Mongol's burst had shattered the drum, and individual rounds were dropping out onto the ground. Patting Juan on the shoulder, she pointed him down the alley again. Juan felt relieved, but couldn't figure out why for a moment. Then he started alughing quietly. "How do you tell your partner that you feel better because you've pissed yourself?"

At the end of the alley, Juan peered around the corner at the target building. There were three Mongols moving carefully down the alley toward him, and the machine gun nest on the second floor was firing steadily down the street. Juan leaned his Intruder carefully around the corner and squeezed off a burst. The first wog took all three shots in his chest and flopped backwards. The body of the first knocked down the second Mongol, but the last one was pretty good. His burst of answering fire tore up the bricks in front of Juan's helmet before Juan's second burst splattered the man's head across the wall behind him. The second Mongol was still trying to pull out from under his dead companion when Juan fired a third time.

Kuryova followed Juan around the corner and looked up at the second floor. She signaled Juan to wait and stepped carefully toward the street. Juan watched her lean to her right and aim the Marauder upward, then fire three times.

As soon as the first grenade fired, Juan leaped across the alley and into the doorway from which the Mongols had emerged. A staircase went straight up and turned left, and a closed door opened into the ground floor. Juan smashed his armored shoulder into the door and followed it into the room. The room was full of wounded Mongols, many of whom were reaching for weapons. Juan sprayed bursts of fire into the room as he backed out the doorway, knocking several of the wogs down.

His back hit the wall at the bottom of the stairs as Kuryova pointed her launcher into the room and fired twice. The small fragmentation grenades splattered blood and gore across the small room in waves of red foam, and the blasts knocked Juan back against the wall. He slumped to the floor, stunned for a moment. He shook his head clear and rose to his feet, his rifle muzzle aiming uncertainly around the room. All of the Mongols seemed to be down. He wobbled out onto the alley and found Kuryova slamming a new magazine into her launcher. She stepped back and fired two more rounds up into the second floor windows, then waved Juan toward the stairs.

Feeling better with each step, Juan jogged up the stairs and paused at the landing. Risking a quick glance around the corner, he saw a Mongol standing at the top of the stairs with an assault rifle. The Mongol fired blindly down the stairs, chewing up the woodwork all around. Juan pointed his rifle around the corner without looking and fired a burst in return. The 'thump' of the wog slumping to the stairs brought Juan back around the corner over the barrel of his weapon. The fire from the machine gun had stopped. He crept carefully up the stairs and swept the room above with three bursts of fire, dropping back immediately after each one in case of return fire.

Kuryova stepped up beside him and fired the last three rounds from her magazine into the room, then ducked back around the corner. Juan followed her just as the grenades burst, filling the room and the top of the stairs with shrapnel.

Seconds later, Juan was checking the corpses of the wog gun crew as Kuryova called in. "Oscar 3-6, Oscar-5. Target is negated."

Juan smiled weakly as the Senior Private's voice crackled back. "Roger, Oscar-5. Friendly vehicles coming in 6 mikes. We got the ground level secured. Good job."

Several eternities later, with fresh ammo and chiller canisters from the following Hellraiser, Juan's section eased around the corner of a shattered hotel and looked across a large open square at a walled compound. The buildings facing the compound had all been thoroughly chewed up by small arms fire. Several hundred Mongol bodies littered the square, and the walls of the compound looked like they'd taken several RPG hits.

Hayes motioned his people back from the edge of the square and called in on the platoon push. "Oscar Six Actual, Oscar 3-6. We're at Phase Line Cobra."

A couple of minutes later, Hayes got back on the squad push. "Children, we have arrived. El-tee says we're to hold for the rest of the company in this nice comfy hotel here. Our Revalen brethren are holding up across the square, and there are lots of unfriendlies about."

Juan stood up and slipped into the hotel through a side window. The rest of the section followed suit. Juan and Kuryova checked to make sure the basement was clear before reporting to the section leader.

"Okay, children. We'll hold this lower floor here. Once the rest of the platoon gets here, we'll turn security over to 4th squad and start working our way through the buildings to the left of the square."

Juan's section was working through the third building left of the hotel when the Mongols counterattacked. What sounded to Juan like every AK-47 in the world going off at once greeted them as Hayes opened the door into the ground floor. The Senior Private was hurled back into the alley in a spray of red, knocking Nguyen down behind him. Juan dropped to one knee and fired into the open doorway as Kuryova and Bonilla grabbed the others and hauled them out of the line of fire. Just before reaching the shelter of the restaurant behind them, an RPG snarled at them from down the alley toward the square.

Juan dove for cover as the rocket-propelled grenade soared down the alley and hit the ground at Bonilla's feet. The explosion ripped the trooper apart despite his armor, and Nguyen was reduced to a mass of smoking meat. Kuryova struggled dazedly to her feet, the front of her armor a smear of what was left of Hayes. Juan rolled to his feet and grabbed her before turning and pulling her back into the restaurant and onto the floor.

"Oscar Six Actual, Oscar 3-4." Juan prayed into his radio, still stunned at the sudden extinction of most of his section. "We have multiple bandits with RPGs and small arms in the department store left of the restaurant."

"Roger Oscar 3-4. Pull back to the hotel. Oscar 5 will cover."

Juan grabbed Kuryova and started sliding toward the back exit of the restaurant. She seemed to be in shock, and kept singing something in Russian. Juan reached out and pried the Marauder out of her right hand. He shoved Kuryova down behind an antique oven, then rose to a crouch and looked back into the alley. Several Mongols immediately opened fire, the bullets singing as they bounced off the stainless steel ovens.

Juan fired all five grenades toward the alley in less than three seconds, then dropped the launcher and grabbed Kuryova. He dragged her out of the restaurant and across the narrow alley between it and the hotel. As soon as he slammed into the hotel through the side door, the rest of the platoon started firing into the restaurant.

The Mongols working their way into the restaurant responded by firing blindly through the walls and roof at their attackers. Juan dropped Kuryova off with the medic, then grabbed an Intruder from one of the wounded and ran back to the alley side of the hotel.

Several of the Mongols had run out into the square from the restaurant, and had been shot down by the Revalen Marines in the compound. The bulk of the wogs seemed to be trying to storm the hotel through the narrow door out of the restaurant into the alley. Even though they were seriously outnumbered, the Dominion troops were easily able to keep the Mongols at bay ... for the moment.

The Platoon Sergeant came in on the platoon circuit. "Friendly armor coming into the square. Hold what you got, people."

Juan looked out through the shattered front windows and saw one of the company's Scimitar air-defense vehicles move sedately into the square. It looked a lot like the Raschid IFV Juan's squad had arrived in, but it had a large, trapezoidal spire in place of the 'people box', and there were two enormous chain guns attached to the spire.

The Scimitar stopped and the two guns rotated rapidly to the left. Several wogs who could see the vehicle started shooting their AKs at it, which had no effect, as far as Juan could see. Then the Scimitar started shooting.

Three-meter long jets of flame erupted from the rotating muzzles of the 30mm Hephaestus guns- which were normally used on the GS-9 Buccaneer ground-attack aircraft. The operator started with the restaurant. The nearly solid stream of bullets sawed completely through the front of the building, causing the half of the structure facing the square to collapse. Rotating slowly to the right, the guns kept firing, cutting gradually through the remaining buildings facing the square. When the guns finally stopped firing, all four of the buildings to the left of the hotel had completely collapsed, and there was no further return fire from the Mongols.

Juan heard a rumble from the street next to the hotel, and turned in time to see a really massive tank bellow into the square. Bullet scratches and what look like RPG hits scarred the heavy armored skirts protecting the treads. The massive tank ground across the square- going around the Scimitar- and stopped outside the walls of the Revalen compound.

The hemispherical turret rotated until the main gun was pointing down the street to the left of the collapsed buildings. The muzzle of the weapon surged backwards with a jet of flame that seemed almost liquid. The roar of the gun was nearly drowned out by the harsh crack as the projectile leaving the muzzle went supersonic. Far down the street, a loud boom followed hard on the heels of a fountain of debris rising skyward.

Juan dialed up the magnification on his borrowed rifle and looked downrange as the tank fired again. The dense projectile hit the corner of a building 300 meters away. The dust was still rising from the impact as Juan saw smoke and debris billow up from the three buildings in a line past the target building.

Firing steadily, the tank gun rapidly leveled every building facing the square or the walled compound. The tank and the Scimitar then rolled down the rubble-strewn street, firing 30mm explosive rounds in both directions.

Juan and the rest of the infantry moved out of the hotel and followed the vehicles down the street. There was no effective resistance, although one ambitious wog did manage to fire an RPG at the tank before falling apart under a hail of fire from the foot soldiers. The grenade struck the tank's cupola squarely, but did little damage to anything but the paint.

Two hours later, the Revalen Marines were evacuated onboard the IFV's that had accompanied the assault. Helicopters had removed the wounded. Juan strolled into the former EOE Oil Concession compound and stared out the second-story window at the ruins that used to be the capital city of Chongwe island.

Then he went down to find the rest of his squad and get something to eat.

The Legate brushed rudely past the Speaker's secretary and crashed his fist into the door the door. The dense wood slammed open under the pounding, and Pors Arval an Dos stormed into the private office of the Head of the Council of Syndics. He wore the formal semi-dress uniform required of military officers appearing in public. The black piping on the sleeves and pants matched the apparent fury in his eyes.

Vrin Dirhan an Sel looked up when the door flew open, sat calmly back in his chair, and looked into the angry eyes of the younger man across the desk. "I don't believe you have an appointment ..." he began.

Pors interrupted the Speaker with an angry wave of his hand. "Don't appointment me, old man! You've been ducking my calls since I brought my Cohort back from Chongwe, and your minder out front there says you haven't any appointments available until next month!"

Gars Michin, Vrin's indomitable and utterly unflappable secretary appeared behind the Legate with a much younger- and far prettier- woman. "Sir, your daughter is here. Shall I summon Security?"

Vrin an Salden stomped into the room. Her long dark hair was immaculately coiffed in the latest Revalen fashion, and framed her fair features to perfection. She stopped next to Pors and said, "Father! If you allow the Hero of Chongwe to be escorted off the premises by Security, you'd better have them arrest me too!"

The politician and the Marine both grimaced slightly as Salden said Hero of Chongwe, but she didn't seem to notice. Vrin immediately felt himself warming to the man.

He sighed. "That will be all, Michin. Since the young man saw fit to use my daughter to force his presence upon me, I dare say I should hear him out.

The secretary sniffed in disdain and departed, closing the door gently behind her. Vrin waved his guests into comfortable chairs and hit three keys on an unobtrusive hand console. Pors sat gracefully, his previous anger apparently vanished. Salden slid silkily into the remaining chair and curled her feet under her legs. Her father caught the movement and smiled to himself. "Just like her mother ... or a cat" he thought to himself.

"Very well, Legate," he said at length. "Your requested meeting is now in progress. Do you think your little histrionics will actually fool anyone?" Vrin's features held the air of aloof disdain which had become his signature style.

Pors raised his hand- palm out- so Vrin could see the tiny electronic device held there by narrow strips of tape. "We seem to be in the clear, sir. Your electronic security appears to be working."

Salden smiled, making her appear more cat-like. "Dos, Father has the best electronics, always. I make certain of it. Please get on with it."

Flushing slightly at the use of his first name in front of Salden's father, Pors set aside his device. "First, I would like to thank you for saving the lives of my men."

Vrin's expression did not change, but his eyes grew hard and cold. "Young man, I made the politically expedient choice- the best of a selection of very bad choices. I did not save you and your men, I saved the Federation's reputation and my government."

Salden's expression hardened, and she shook her head minutely. Vrin nodded. "I have read your formal report on the rescue by the Overlord's forces. Now tell me your real opinion."

Pors raised his gaze to the ceiling for a moment as he marshaled his thoughts. "The facts are all in my report, sir. Briefly, the Dominion soldiers staged a textbook mechanized assault on Chongwe, which was being held by some 4200 Mongols. During the course of the assault, the Mongols managed to cobble together something resembling a counterattack against a small group of scattered infantry units as they approached our positions.

"During the firefight that ensued, Dominion armored vehicles arrived and broke up the counterattack, flattening the entire Chibara district in the process."

"To hell with the facts, man." Vrin's hard eyes met those of the Marine Legate. "What is your impression?"

Pors hesitated briefly, then said in a soft voice, "Sir, my opinion is that the Overlord was sending us a message."

Something fleeted through Vrin's eyes- so quickly gone that Pors wasn't sure he'd actually seen it. "Go on. Tell me why you think so," the politician said.

"Sir, the Overlord's tactics were uniformly sound throughout the Chongwe campaign- Hell, throughout the Redoubts. Every move was tactically and strategically excellent ... until the final assault."

Vrin stood and walked to a cupboard, where he began to pour wine for everyone. "Please explain."

Pors shook his head. "Sir, when you make a mechanized assault against superior numbers, you don't send in maniple-sized units scattered across a couple of square miles. You hit them hard with artillery and air strikes, then send in the armor and follow that up with the infantry.

"That last assault ..." the Marine's voice trailed off as he remembered the scenes picked up by the Revalen sensors as the Overlord's soldiers tore through the Mongol defenses. he shook his head and returned to the task at hand. "Those small units were bait, intended to draw the Mongols into a meeting engagement with the Dominion armor- right in front of the Marines' defensive positions. The Overlord staged the entire scenario to send us a message."

"And this explains why they leveled a quarter of the city?" Vrin sat back at his desk after delivering the wine to his guests. He arched an eyebrow and cocked his head slightly to the side.

"Exactly!" Pors sipped at his wine before continuing. "Sir, the Dominion sent in one main battle tank and one light armored vehicle. The counterattack was already shattered before they started shooting up Chibara. That was a bit of gratuitous destruction that got me thinking about the political motives for the entire campaign."

Pors drained his wineglass and set it on a nearby table. "What exactly did the Overlord want in exchange for my Marines. sir?"

Vrin studied the ceiling for a moment before replying. "Withdrawal of all Federation troops from the Redoubts, joint restriction of arms sales (small arms only) to the Mongols ... and formal Federation recognition of the Overlord's rule over Amida, This Oughta Do, and Zurich."

Salden spoke up. "That seemed like a fairly minor price to pay when I heard father talk about it. It still seems so to me, but the heavy and portentous tones you two are speaking tell me I'm missing something."

Vrin looked at his daughter. "The Federation cannot match the Overlord in economic competition in the Redoubts. Our economy is in tatters, and our purpose for going into that morass was to get access to cheap oil. Selling the Mongols arms and equipment was a sideline that never paid for itself- we were spending too much on Mongol oil."

Pors took up the tale. "And he's proved that we can't match the Dominion in military strength either. The Mongols respect strength. I estimate that the Overlord will be in full control of the Redoubts- and all of the oil reserves there- within ten years."

Salden looked puzzled. "I thought that the Dominion doesn't need oil as much as we do. They were selling most of the oil they got from the Redoubts to us at less than market value."

Vrin shook his head wearily. "It's not the oil the Overlord is after. Once he gets control of the former Mongol kingdom, he'll have an overwhelming strategic advantage over us. The Dominion will be able to control the movements of all traffic in or out of Revalen."

Salden looked at the map of the continent on the wall behind her father. With the conquest of This Oughta Do last year and the economic takeover of Zurich at about the same time, the Evil Overlord now bounded the Federation on the south and east- with the exception of the small nation of HHIA in the far northeast. Her eyes narrowed as she imagined Dominion bases in the Redoubts. The only route into or out of the Federation not controlled by the Overlord was in the north.

She looked back at her father. "I understand, Father. What do we do now?"

Vrin's expression lightened dramatically. "I have a few options in mind, but I'm afraid I'll have to keep those to myself for the time being." He turned to offer his hand to the Legate. "Once I get everything ready, I will send for you. In the meantime, send my regards to your uncle."

Pors shook the politician's hand and locked eyes with Salden. "Why do I get the feeling that he's cooked up this entire scheme just to keep the two of us apart?"

Salden rose gracefully to her feet and gathered up the wine glasses. "Do get over yourself, Pors. We're just play-acting for the Overlord's spies."

Pors admired Salden's sinuous curves under the sheer silken dress as she walked to the sideboard. "It's true," he sighed. "Our Romeo and Juliet affair is strictly a role we play to fool the Overlord."

He winked at the young woman's father as he escorted Salden to the door. "But there's no reason I can't enjoy the show while it's running."

Vrin stared at the closed door for several long minutes after the two had left, considering. Then he dutifully returned to the business at hand.

Maneuvering successfully against the Overlord was only possible with the utmost concentration. The survival of the Federation as an independent entity depended upon Vrin's ability to focus exclusively on outwitting the Master of Malevolence.

Everything else- including his daughter's happiness- was secondary. His eyes fell on a report on common sayings within the Overlord's realms. You become what you fight against very easily slid unnoticed past his gaze.

"Legate Pors Arval an Dos is here for his appointment, sir."

Bayn Dirhan ar Lin glanced at his desk clock and nodded. "Send him in please, Jal." the Strategos of the Revalen Armed Forces said to his secretary. "And please ask Tribunes Gans and Oln to join us. We'll be needing coffee."

Ten minutes later, the four men were standing in a well-appointed laboratory near Bayn's office. The lab table before them held several damaged items of military equipment under bright lights. Pors lifted a fire-blackened weapon from the table and turned back to face the three most senior officers in Revalen's military.

"This is the Overlord's main infantry weapon, the Intruder battle rifle. It fires the same 11.5mm round as the support weapons and machine guns. The weapon is usually fired in semi-automatic mode as a shoulder weapon, although some of the Dominion soldiers have used the burst function."

Tribune Oln Findon- the first man to reach the top levels of Revalen's military hierarchy from outside the Twenty-Five Families- rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "The recoil on full automatic would be brutally punishing." he mused. "How effective is the weapon, in your opinion?"

Pors detached the large drum magazine before answering. "Sir, this weapon gives each of the Overlord's soldiers the punch of our support weapons. Their rate of fire is slower than ours, but they have better range and the rounds are far more likely to disable or kill than the 8mm rounds we use." The younger man hefted the magazine in his left hand to call attention to it, then slid it back onto the weapon and latched it in place. "Each drum magazine carries between 100 and 150 rounds. Every Dominion soldier I saw during the battle in Chongwe carried at least 3 magazines."

The three senior officers exchanged glances, but remained silent. Pors laid the weapon aside and lifted a fragment of body armor. The edges of the material were singed and scarred with heat. "The Overlord's body armor is not as good as the reflex suits we use." Pors held the two-foot-square fragment up for his superiors. "It is quite heavy, despite the composite materials from which it constructed."

Tribune Gans an Durer, Commander of Ground Forces, took the fragment and examined the material. "How effective is it?" he demanded.

Pors nodded slowly. "It successfully protects the wearer from small arms fire and shrapnel at ranges over 50 meters, sir. Pistol-caliber rounds often do not penetrate at any range. Higher-velocity rounds from rifles and support weapons may penetrate, depending on the angle of impact and the range. Within 50 meters, our carbines frequently failed to breach the armor's integrity unless they arrived at nearly right angles to the armor- and sometimes failed even then."

Gans tossed the fragment back onto the table. "How is this not as good as our armor, then?" he demanded.

"Flexarmor is lighter, less restrictive to movement, and far less bulky than the Dominion body armor, sir."

The Tribune shook his head. "It also seems to be less effective against the Overlord's guns, boy." He turned to Bayn. "I've already considered ordering changes to the protection protocols based on the lab reports. Based on this information, I want permission to start testing some new ideas on protecting our troops."

The Strategos nodded thoughtfully, then gestured for Pors to continue. The Legate picked up a cracked helmet. The face shield was shattered, and several small cables dangled from inside the cracked ceramic top. It did not resemble the human skull much, having a large bulge running from the edge of the visor on each side around to meet at another bulge in the back. The composite material was molded in a series of curves, with no right angles.

"The Dominion soldiers all wear the same combat helmet." Pors handed it to the Strategos. "Night-Vision and other optical devices are built in, and can be lowered over the wearer's eyes within the helmet at need. The lower part of the face piece is missing on this one, but the entire assembly can be made airtight by small membranes that expand to seal the bottom of the helmet if the wearer activates a tiny CO2 cartridge. This seal makes it effective against chemical and biological weapons, and the integral combination filters also screen out radioactive particles."

The senior officers exchanged glances again, and Pors wondered what was going on. Deciding to worry about that later, he continued. "Radio transceiver is built into the back of the helmet, along with a surprisingly sophisticated microcomputer for handling message traffic."

Oln arched an eyebrow. "You report indicated that the Dominion radio communications encryption was unbreakable. It took our technicians only three days to decipher the taped messages you sent back."

Pors stood his ground. "Sir, my report said that the Overlord's communications were not practically decipherable. The Dominion's communications systems employ sophisticated encryption techniques, combined with multiple frequencies and computer synchronization. I had no doubt that our technicians could decrypt the Dominion radio messages. However, deciphering tactical message traffic three days after intercepting it is not useful to anybody. How practical is it to understand what the enemy is saying during a battle days after the battle is over?"

"Point well taken, young man. Go on."

Pors smiled briefly, then got his speech back on track. "You have all seen footage of the Overlord's assault on Chongwe. The Dominion suffered more casualties during this assault than in the rest of the campaign combined. The attack on Eastpointe, by comparison, was a walk-over."

The three senior officers grimaced slightly. They alone knew that two maniples of Marines had been slaughtered with their Mongol allies in Eastpointe. That the presence of Revalen's finest troops in Eastpointe had not prevented the fall of the city was embarrassing. The fact that the Marines had not even managed to inflict significant casualties upon their ancient enemies was a severe shock.

"The coordination between infantry, artillery, armor, and tactical air support was exemplary throughout the assault. Attack helicopters and ground-attack aircraft successfully isolated large portions of the Mongol forces until infantry-supported tank columns arrived to mop them up. Artillery was used extensively, both in preparation for the attack and as support for the individual units."

Pors paused for a moment as his mind replayed images from the Dominion response to the Mongol counterattack. He shook his head slightly to clear it and went on. "When the Mongols mobbed several small units of the Overlord's soldiers, two vehicles rolled in to break up the counterattack. As you know, this took place directly in front of my cohort's defensive positions. We had a ringside seat, which I'm sure was deliberately planned."

The senior officers were looking at him strangely, causing Pors to wonder what his face was showing. He willed his features into immobility and finished his statement. "For the first time, the Dominion units used massive force against the Mongols. Whole sections of the city were leveled, shattering the counterattack and slaughtering several thousand civilians hiding from the fighting in their homes."

Pors looked his superiors in the eye in turn as he spoke. "I finally understand the stories my grandfather told me about fighting the Overlord. The slaughter at Chongwe was completely unnecessary, from a military point of view. This was a political act, aimed at us."

Strategos Bayn said thoughtfully, "The surviving Marines will be telling everyone they meet about Chongwe. This could have an affect on morale."

Gans snorted. "Two can play at that game, sir. We can turn this to our advantage." The others looked at him. The Tribune nodded forcefully. "We use the footage young Pors, here, brought back during recruiting and combat training. The Overlord's message emphasizes the power and lethality of Dominion forces. Our message will emphasize the need to prevent Chongwe from being repeated in our own cities."

"A dangerous ploy, that." Bayn's voice was thoughtful.

Nodding again, the Tribune said, "We don't have any choice, now. The Overlord dealt this hand, and we have to use the cards we have." Gans was a well-known professional gambler, and still frequented Revalen's many casinos. "With your permission, sir, I'll put together a working group to pull something positive out of this debacle."

Bayn nodded agreement, then turned to the other tribune. "Oln, I want to see a new training protocol making use of our new information about the Overlord's tactics and organization by the end of the month. We'll start with the Advanced Combat Course, and work it up and down through the ranks from there."

Turning back to Pors, the Strategos said. "Fine work, young man. Return to your cohort and await orders." Pors saluted and left, still wondering what was going on in the old man's head.

Once the Legate was gone, Oln nodded after him and said, "Promising young man there."

Gans scowled, but the Strategos nodded agreement. "He might have a bright future ahead of him ... but he's too close to the Vrin for comfort.

Still scowling, Gans asked, "What about those Mongols he brought back with him?"

Bayn smiled broadly. "Most of them wanted to go back home, so he paid for it out of his own pocket. The ones who wanted to stay here, he got his family to sponsor them. He's loyal, that one."

He turned back to the Tribunes. "Now that Show and Tell time is over, gentlemen, what say we get back to work. I would dearly love to have something- besides the threat of nuclear attack- to keep the Overlord out of Revalen City."

"With your permission, Dirhan, I will get straight to the point." Bayn Dirhan ar Lin, Strategos for the Federation's Armed Forces, waved for the civilian to continue.

Jiran Dasow dimmed the room's lights and began his presentation. "As you can see from this first slide, recruitment is up across the board, with the Army receiving the bulk of the new recruits-an increase of 24%. Navy strength is up 12%, the Marines are up 17%, and Aerospace Force is up 11%."

Gerd an Dis, Commander of Federation Aerospace Forces, felt his superior's glare despite the darkness of the briefing room. He said, "We're working on getting better numbers from the general recruitment pool, but the Armed Forces advertising campaign is deliberately slanted toward Ground Forces."

Tribune Gans an Durer, Commander of Federation Ground Forces, spoke up in support. "Gerd's right. Let's slack off on the Ground Forces advertising and emphasize across-the-board recruitment."

The civilian waited for the byplay to finish before continuing. "Our current numerical strength now approaches historic high levels, as you can see from this slide. Military funding from the Vrin administration has already surpassed historic levels. This is already starting to show significant deleterious effects in the civilian sector." Several slides showing economic indicators went by in quick succession. A last slide showing side-by-side comparison with the Dominion of the Evil Overlord military forces caused the assembled General Staff officers to cringe.

"Intelligence estimates indicate that the Federation would still lose any significant conventional military contest with the Overlord. Future projections- assuming continued military focus by the Federation- fail to have any significant effect on this outcome." Jiran raised the lighting level and faced the Strategos.

"The Overlord is recruiting military personnel from the best and brightest of three countries, along with a significant percentage of those nations' Gross Domestic Product. The Federation cannot compete with the Dominion either economically or militarily- so long as the Overlord controls Zurich and This Oughta Do." He paused for a moment before delivering the Bad News.

"The data clearly show that any Federation-Dominion military clash for the foreseeable future will quickly force the Federation to resort to a nuclear first strike on the Dominion. Despite our nuclear parity with the Overlord, such an attack only has a 38% chance of saving the Federation from annihilation."

Bayn Dirhan an Lir nodded. "Excellent presentation, Jiran. You may go." Once the civilian had departed, Bayn turned to his Staff. "Gentlemen?"

Lorj Jessil an Mern, Commander of Federation Naval Forces, shook his head. "That's it then. We're doomed."

"Not necessarily." The other Tribunes looked at the Aerospace Commander. "You didn't catch the unstated little caveat in Jiran's presentation." The other Tribunes looked blankly at him, but the Strategos was nodding thoughtfully. Gerd went on.

"At the moment, the Overlord's control of our neighbors to the east and southeast give him a decided advantage- both economically and militarily. In Judo, I learned to turn an opponent's strengths against him."

The Ground Force Commander got it first. "I think I see what you're getting at, Gerd. We can make it more expensive for the Overlord to control those two countries, reducing his military and economic advantage."

Lorj mused thoughfully, "We can do this on the cheap, as well. I'm sure the Intelligence folks can identify nascent resitance movements in Dominion-occupied territories. All we have to do is provide some equipment and intelligence data."

Bayn shook his head. "The Overlord squashes resistance movements with discouraging ruthlessness and frequency. An overt resistance in the classical sense would accomplish little."

The Tribunes looked at their superior. At length, Gerd said, "I take it you have something a bit more ... subtle... in mind?"

The Strategos shook his head. "Not I. I'm just an old soldier. What do I know about being subtle?"

Gans grunted and stood up. "It's not really something the Armed Forces would do a proper job of anyway, sir. This whole meeting suddenly has the reek of politics about it."

The Strategos nodded soberly. "So it does. I have a meeting with the Syndic for Defense this afternoon. We'll drop this on the Administration's collective lap and see if they can pull their heads out long enough to get something done. That will be all, gentlemen."