NationStates Jolt Archive

<Ashford, 397 miles west-nor'-west of McLeodia. 01:54am>

A blue MM van pulled into the forecourt of the village petrol station. A tall man with long dark hair stepped from the driver’s seat out into the cool air. A small scar marked his right cheek, and dark sunglasses hid his eyes, despite the darkness of the night. The service attendant walked out of the heated garage onto the forecourt. "What'll be mister, full tank o' diesel?" he said, rubbing his hands together, trying to keep warm.

"Please" replied the stranger, walking to a nearby phone booth. Once there, he picked up the phone, checked over his shoulder, and dialed a number from memory. After two short rings, his call was picked up. "McEwan, this is Adder. Tell mama I'll be home for lunch, and I brought the kids" he said, quietly, before hanging up.

As the stranger was making his phone call, the attendant peered in through the back of the van out of vain curiosity. Through the darkened glass, he could make out the shapes of numerous crates surrounding one large metal one. "What you got in there mister?" he asked, as the stranger returned. He barely finished his sentence before the tall man drew a short knife from inside his coat, and drove his fist into the attendant’s throat, smashing his voice box. At the same time, the knife hand arched upwards, driving between ribs, slicing open the old mans heart. Unable to scream, the man gasped for breath before collapsing to the floor. The stranger wiped his knife on the dead mans shirt, got back into the van, and drove off, heading south towards the M4, the main road into McLeodia.


<Penrith, major city south of McLeodia. 02:09am>

Three men dressed in army fatigues drove up to the gates of the Penrith Reservist Armory. They rode in the front of a large 12-ton truck, used extensively throughout the military for transport. At the gate, the lone guard stood up, and checked the papers of the three men. His shift was nearly over, and he didn't want to go sifting through the paperwork checking deliveries and rummaging through crates of MREs in the truck, so he simply waved them through. This one mistake would cost the man not only his life, but thousands, perhaps millions more.

The truck pulled up to the huge warehouse, containing thousands upon thousands of weapons and vehicles. Designed to hold supplies for the militia and reservists, the large building was one of hundreds across the country. The large 5 liter engine was silenced as the men stepped out of the truck and walked up to a small hut built into the side of the building. Looking round before they entered, the three stepped through the door. From outside, muffled cries could be heard, and the covered windows seem to light up with short flashes. With the slight wind, the sound of the Welrod silenced pistols didn't carry far. Seconds later, two of the men emerged, and the main doorway into the warehouse opened enough to allow the truck inside.

Once inside, more men leapt from the back of the truck, pushing aside the few crates of MREs positioned to camouflage them from any casual observers. In all, the two drivers and a further 18 men began to move through the warehouse, shooting down any guards they found patrolling, until they reached their intended goal. The 18 split into nine pairs, each hotwiring another 12 ton truck, and beginning to fill it with assorted weapons and rifles. The few MANPAD systems and MANPAA systems in the warehouse were also taken. Once full, the trucks formed a convoy, and drove out of the warehouse at great speed, heading for the main gate. With a hail of silenced bullets, the inept gate guard died, and the stolen trucks made off into the night.


<Overview>

This scene was repeated across the country, with a total of 27 armories being raided, and an as yet unknown number of weapons being stolen. Most of the thefts were noticed too late to act upon, and some were not discovered for some hours. By this time, the weapons had been transferred into stores and civilian vehicles, and the only traces of the thefts were hundreds of burnt out army trucks, a worrying portent of things to come.


<Arcadia Road, McLeodia. 21:04>

The blue van pulled into driveway of a quiet suburban house. The tall man reversed the van right up into the large double garage, and closed the door after him. He was greeted by three more men, all average in both height and build. Together, they opened the van, and unloaded the crates of weapons, leaving only the large metal crate in the centre of the van.

"In that crate" said the tall man "lies our future, and the future of our clan. Many years have passed since our ancestors were beaten on the slopes of Loch Drummon. Now is the time for us to retake what is ours. These treacherous McLeods will fall, and the rightful shall rule once more. Tonight we sleep, but tomorrow, our struggle for liberation shall begin." He followed the three out of the garage into the house, turning one last time to look at the van, before turning out the lights, and closing the door.


OOC: Its a long time since I've written any long RPs, so bear with me on this. Not too much criticism please. Updates will come, but i have to work lots for a few days, so they might not be all that often.

tagged and bagged

<Outside House of Lords, McLeodia, 2 miles from Royal Palace>

The MM van was parked in one of the public spaces of a multistorey opposite the House, a grand structure built not long after the Palace, consisting of huge wings filled with offices and one large debating hall. Once symbolic of the unity of the country, now it had been filled with McLeods, McLewis' and McCrimmons, the three clans thus dominating the country.

Inside, the three men were dressed as telephone repairmen, and each carried a variety of concealed weapons. In precisely three minutes, the countries first televised address would take place from the House, and that would be the perfect time for their rallying call. As one, they left the van, and walked calmly down the steps to street level, and crossed the staionary traffic, before climbing the steps into the House.

Just inside the entrance, six Royal Guard stood, manning an array of X-ray machines and metal detectors. Without warning, the three men opened fire, seriously wounding two of the guards, and killing the other four. Now inside, they quickly made their way to the broadcast suite, before bursting in and holding the room hostage. "Play this" said one man to the broadcast supervisor, handing him a black tape, such as that used in private video cameras. His hands trembling, the supervisor inserted the tape into the nearest player, and set it to broadcast.

Across the country, millions tuned in to see a strange tall man with long dark hair stood, facing them. Then he began speaking, calmly and collectedly.

"My fellow countrymen. Too long has the treachery of the McLeods tainted our land. Too long now have we been forced to rule under a false leader, one who allies with the dangerous McLewis and treacherous McCrimmon. The time has come for our liberation. We must stand up, take arms, and fight. In precisely one minutes time, as a demonstration of our power, a thermonuclear device will be detonated in McLeodia. After this, we must truly begin our fight, although I fear many will lose their lives before it has ended."

With that, the tape ended, and all hell broke loose. Across the capital, thousands of people tried to flee, uselessly, the news was even slow to reach the Royal Palace, and by the time it had, it was too late. The multistorey car park and almost the entire CBD, including the House of Lords, disappeared in a ball of white hot flame. Within the blink of an eye, 135,000 people in central McLeodia were vaporised. The shockwave rolled through the city centre, flattening huge skyscrapers and large shopping centres, before reaching the Royal Palace.

Although somewhat weakened by its travel, the shockwave still pummelled the grand old marble building. Every window on the North face was smashed, and the East wing of the house collapsed, trapping hundreds of employees. The blast detonated the petrol tank used to power the generators, and this caused the collapse of most of the central section of the house. The only parts to survive were the helipad near the river, some parts of the West wing, and the solid bunker covering the escape route which led into the huge underground MAFCCP. As yet, no one can tell how many died, nor whether the King was one of them.

<McLeodia, twelve minutes after detonation>

Piles of rubble and blackened ruins littered the once proud cityscape. Smoke drifted high from the fires ignited by the blast or from secondary fires started as a result of the near total annihilation of the emergency services. The entire sky seemed alive, a mixture of deep reds and lighter yellows cast an eerie glow over the devastated city.

Amongst the ruins, a few lucky survivors began the long and arduous task of searching for further survivors, although few would live long, given the massive amounts of fallout caused by the crudely made yet highly effective bomb. It would take many months to draw up a full list of the dead and wounded, and perhaps years to complete the clean-up.

Contact between the MAFCCP and the outside world was completely severed, the only possible signs of life given by the activation of the air scrubbing systems on the surface. The main entrance was buried beneath hundreds of feet of rubble, and both secondary exits were caved in by the blast. Anyone inside could survive for years on the stockpiled supplies, but any hope of contact with them was severed by the destruction of the transmission arrays.


<Outside Yorktown, north of McLeodia>

The second largest city in McLeod03, Yorktown is the spiritual home of the Morrison clan, fierce rivals of the McLeods. Outside the city hall, the once busy square was deserted. People remained at home, praying for the souls of those killed in the Capital, and looking forward with fear in their hearts and worry filling their minds.

From the eastern-most side of the square, a vehicle entered. A common style 4x4, it stopped directly outside the hall. Two men stepped from the car, one was pushing 7 feet tall, and heavy set. In his hands he carried a bundle, wrapped in fine tartan cloth, the tartan of the Morrisons. The other was immediately familiar as the one making the broadcast. He walked to the top of the steps to be met by the Mayor of the town. "Surrender your town to its rightful owner," the tall man began. "or we shall shed the blood of your family, your friends, your friends' families, and so on, until we hold this city as our own." The Mayor looked on, initially taken aback, before smiling, then bursting out into laughter.

"How will you and your little lapdog hope to take an entire city by yourselves?" he asked mockingly. The tall man smiled, and replied by speaking softly into a mobile phone in his hand. An ominous rumble of heavy diesel engines drifted in across the square, and from three sides, long convoys of trucks arrived, dispersing men into the square rapidly filling it to near capacity. "My name is William Morrison. You shall hear that name many times, and it shall be held in legends as the saviour of our people."

The Mayor turned back, his smile gone. "You can't hope to get away with this..." he began, before Morrison interupted "But Mayor, I already have" he said, turning to the second man, and unwrapping the bundle. "Behold Demonslayer, the sword of the Morrison chiefs. Fear its blade, for it shall be the last thing you ever feel" With that, he turned, swinging the large claymore in an upwards motion, slicing the Mayor open from groin to throat. The Mayor fell, dead before he hit the ground.

Morrison turned to his men, and shouted "The city will soon be ours. Take what is yours men. Fight if you must, but try to gain support where possible. Our revolution has begun, and you shall be its fathers. Be proud, men, be proud."


<Oxport, Eastern Coast of McLeod03>

Oxport was the largest city in the eastern plains, and it was from here that more opposition would rise. It began with car bombings of major political figures, and ended with a massive demonstration of supporters, all wearing the ensignia of the PFM, outlawed since the last bloody civil war. Now, with the head of state missing, and his son away on a diplomatic mission, the PFM would make another claim on McLeod03, and this time, they would not surrender nor flee.


<IC Information>

Current "sides" in bid for power:

1) Royal Family - obviously supportive of the McLeodian government, but with the King missing, and the direct heir in space on a diplomatic mission, any chance of swift action being taken is slim. Current supporters include Royal Guard, most army units, and traditionalist right-wing elite.

2) Morrison Clan - direct rivals of the McLeods, currently small, but gaining support in once Morrison held lands, north of the Capital and around Yorktown. Current support comes mostly from working class and some middle class, also have limited support amongst armed forces and police force. Political agenda not dissimilar to that of McLeods, just with a different name and more focus on military spending.

3) PFM - People's Front of McLeod03. Beaten once before in attempted uprising, the PFM is a left-wing democratic organisation, hoping to "free the people from the oppressive chains of the tyranny"


Current popular support:

1) 67%
2) 20%
3) 13%

OOC: One last bump.

ooc: Amazing writng style. I really liked the papragraph describing the thermo-nuclear explosion. I'd be interested in involving myself but quick question; I noticed your heir apparent is in space. Are you a future nation? If so I cannot RP with you in this thus far amazing thread.

OOC: No, he's attending a peace conference held in space. I decided to allow some distortion of timelines in order to accomodate planned discussions about an ally. See Iuthia's TFU peace conference thread. My nation is modern tech, but erring on the advanced side in terms of aeronautical abilities.

OOC: Well then, allow me…
IC:

The satellites had picked up the flashpoint instantaneously. It wasn’t one of those things you could miss. It was blinded for a moment, changed filters, and then took in the awesome devastation in McLeodia. An agent of the NNAO briefed the president of the instance.
“My god.” The president exclaimed crossing himself. “We need offer our assistance.”
“They may not be able to receive our messages there is quite abit of civil chaos and conflict.”
“Dispatch some troops. They’re to have full NBC protection, this is to be a medical effort. They’re lost a lot of infrastructure and we need to start caring for their people. Keep aware for any indication that we are not wanted, inform me I’ll make the decision.”

Official communiqué from the Noviet government.

We have dispatched and armed humanitarian effort to your shore. As you read this a single carrier group flying a white flag is steaming towards you laden with medical supplies, radiation clean up supplies, Geiger counters and a long list of other aid giving life saving devices. Please admit them in so we may begin assisting, should we be told to turn around we will do so, begrudgingly and will pray for the lives that were lost because you wouldn’t let us help.

OOC: Where is your country in relation to the world?

tag

OOC: Where is your country in relation to the world?

OOC:

Roughly mid-way between Britain and America, an island about the size of Greenland.


IC:

No response was given to the incoming fleet, with no real government to give it, although it is widely accepted that the safest place to land is in the South-west, amongst the remnants of the McLeod government, since it has the greatest military safety, is furthest from the opposition, and has good links to McLeodia, where the supplies are sorely needed.

The nameless NNAO agent was back in the President’s office, again without good news.
“And that’s the situation.” He finished up hesitantly eyeing the president for a reaction. The president cleared his throat and reached for his coffee. After a long pause to slowly drain the remainder of the cup the President made eye contact with the agent and spoke confidently.
“Then we will proceed. As soon as the birds are in range I want the choppers launched with fighter escort, only three, this is not a hostile action and I don’t want the people to take it that way. We’ll land in the SW it looks more secure and is the closest to us after we come through the Panama Canal. How long until the birds will hit McLeod03 airspace?”
“About two hours, I’ll have them broadcasting friendlies on inbound. We should be able to get the landing craft down eight hours after that. It’s my recommendation that we land in an un-urbanized area so we don’t appear to be taking sides in the conflict.”
“Negative. We’ll be setting up right in the devastated area, I want base camp as close as the radiation will permit.”
“Well, this argument might be moot in two hours if the birds run into trouble so I’ll leave it until then.” The agent nodded his head in respect, “Sir,” and left the room.

Ooc: I’ll leave it to you to see what your border patrols are doing, I assume they are still intact so my guess it there will be a few tense moments with your interceptors.

<Wing Commander's Office, RAF Huntington, south-western coast of McLeod03>

"Sir, we have inbound aircraft, squaking friendly codes. We have yet to recieve any word of MAFCC, and have no orders conerning the inbounds. Should we intercept" asked the 24th Squadron Commander, Helen Bronston.

"No," replied Wing Commander William "Bull" Castle, "Launch two flights to escort them in. If they make any hostile moves, shoot them down. On second thoughts, ready my aircraft, I'll lead the mission myself"

"Yes sir" said Bronston, rushing from the office to issue the orders set. OUt side, ground crews began to ready 8 F-114 Wolfcat fights, including the WIng Commander's personal aircraft, an upgraded F-114B, with slightly improved performance.


<AFB Ironside, Yorktown>

"Commander, radar reports what look like aid helicopters coming in to aid the McLeods. Shall i launch interceptors?" reported a young radar operator, who joined the Morrison uprising after the promise of being issued a gun.

"Yes. Launch everything we have. Let them know we are not to be messed with" replied William Morrison, currently overseeing his entire revolution from the captured airbase. Behind him, the burning hulks of some of the finest aircraft in the McLeodian RAF showed the destruction wrought by the retreating McLeodian troops.

Captured F/A-18E Hornets rolled out onto the runway, taking off in pairs until all fourty of the fighters were airborne. As one, the huge flight turned south, heading towards the incoming Nova Hope helicopters.


<PFM Airbase Charlie-3, 812 miles east of McLeodia>

"Sir, it seems the Morrisons are launching craft to head south. Should we try and ambush them?" reported a low-ranking intelligence officer.

"No, comrade lieutenant" came the reply "Let them die a foolish death. We will strike when the two sides have battled it out amongst themselves."


Current popular support (updated):

48% - McLeodian Royal Family
39% - Morrison clan
13% - PFM

“Sir we have McLeod03 aircraft coming in, they’re broadcasting a flight path, my guess is they want to escort us in.”
“Understandable. Come to and bring our path congruent to the one provided.”
“Yessir.” There was a mild pulling at the stomach as the choppers and escorts moved into the proper flight path, nothing major. Inside the nervousness had passed and people were beginning to speculate to the extent of the damage, it was unfathomable that someone would H-bomb a civilian target. Before much could be discussed an alert began blinking bringing the pilot’s attention to the satellite tracking of several unidentified fighters. Switching on the radio the pilot of the main escort attempted to communicate to the, unbeknownst to him, Morrison interceptors.
“This is Captain Willis of the Noviet armed forces to the fighter’s inbound from Yorktown. We are on a mission of mercy and are looking to aid civilians. We’re not picking sides here gents we just want to help those dying people.” After waiting for a reply Captain Willis broadcast again.
“Repeat we are on a mission of mercy please do not engage, we don’t want trouble here guys, we are just trying to get help to the blast victims, we have doctors and medical supplies on board. If you must turn us away fine but please don’t start firing on unarmed transport choppers.” Switching to the encrypted frequency of the Noviet fleet the captain continued to his superiors.
“We have possible hostiles, please prep the deck we might need air support and fast.” With that the deck of the aircraft carrier Agamemnon was alive with activity as the planes prepped for the possible launch and battle. Inside the command deck the XO pulled the admiral to the side and spoke quietly as to not alert the crew.
“Sir you do realize that it will take 30mins to get the jets out there at max burn.”
“Yes, I realize.”
“We should launch now sir, they’d get there about five minutes before the hostiles.”
“This is a mission of good faith, we’ll continue to respond that way.”
“Yes, sir.”

<MAFCCP, deep below the ruined Capitol>

Emergency lights flickered on an off, until eventually the command centres own nuclear reactors started up, and throughout the centre, massive displays of the country began to dominate the lighting effects, casting hte usual blue glow across the central command area, some 6 storeys high, and filled with satellite control and live feed systems controlling McLeodian assets around the globe.

King James VI sat dazed and confused in the CO's office, his left arm in a sling, and numerous cuts across his forehead. He couldn't remember much of what had happened, but he remembered the broadcast made by the Morrison before his world was turned upside down, and the Royal Guard began to rush him quickly down into the elevator which brought him here.

Outside the office, hundreds of technicians were frantically replacing burnt out wiring and smashed screens, trying to bring the facility back online. The communications array had been cut, but switching to the reserve arrys should be completed in roughly half an hour. Then the King would be able to control his country once again, and crush this puny uprising before it began.


<Perseus Flight, 382 miles north of Nova Hope helicopters>

"Perseus One to Perseus Flight. Our orders are to engage and destroy those helicopters, and any escorts they might have. Lock and Load. Green section will take overwatch, Blue and Yellow will go for the escorts, and Red, we will go for the helos. Go to 50% burner and lets in there fast and hard"


<24th Squadron Angel Flight>

Bull Castle looked out over his right shoulder at the seven trailing fighters behind his. Each of the multi-million pound aircraft was more than capable of shooting down completely outclassed F/A-18s, but he was leading the youngest squadron in the country, reformed after its decimation many years before. He was the only pilot with combat experience, and was not even an ace himself.

"Angel One-One to Angel One and Angel Two" he began "Command reports a large group of bogeys heading south to intercept those choppers. Cut all active transmissions, drop tanks, and follow me. From here on in, radio silence until I give the order to fire. Switch your missiles to take initial guidance from NIRTSSATs. Lets pay them back for McLeodia."

With that, the eight aircraft peeled away and began to head towards the incoming Hornets of Perseus flight, in what would be the first real engagement of the war. It would take a little over two minutes to get into range of the MAULRAAMs carried internally in the F-114s, and roughly two minutes more for the missiles to cover the 120 miles to their targets, who would be unaware until the missiles switched to active radar targetting, about fifteen seconds before impact.

OOC: Bump

Admiral Alexander Paterson aboard the Agamemnon was in his tactical chair. The chair’s displays were linked into the ship’s systems. Right now the Admiral’s attention was focused on the satellite tactical uplink tracking, which was alerting him to his fifteen chopper in the direct flight path of eight F-114. They are confirmed non hostiles so that’s fine. However these forty F/A-18E Super Hornets have increased speed and aren’t responding to the friendly greetings. Damn. Clearing his throat he looked over to his XO who was waiting anxiously for his orders.
“Launch our remaining F/A-18Es, all 97 of them.” The XO barked a variety of orders then turned to the admiral. At that the fighters idling in the catapults were launched with others being snapped into place seconds later, only to be flung into the blue yonder with a flash of steam and the sounds of firing hydrolics.
“Sir you do realize that even on full burn these fighters will get there after the battle has started.”
“I realize that’s why I want the cruisers to loose a full volley of anti-air missiles. Use they’ll take their cues from the satellite lock. I don’t want the enemy to even know their coming, let alone have time to deploy counter measures.”
“Yes sir, but you are aware that with four cruisers firing a full volley that would only be eight missiles and there would be enough reaction time from volley one to volley two to take evasive actions and deploy chaffs.”
“Yes but, what other choice do we have? Damnit we aren’t equipped to fight a war here and who ever these bastards are they’re going to draw us into this conflict, whether we want to be involved or not. Besides I’m hoping their chaffs aren’t EMP based, they’ll be ineffective since the missiles aren’t tracking by heat, RADAR, or any other system from the missile’s point of view, their satellite guided.” The XO rolled his eyes,
“I know how these missiles work sir.” The XO then turned to the bridge crew and barked the admiral’s orders. Within seconds the missiles leapt off the decks of the cruisers in a flash of ignition fuel and propellant.
“What orders should we give to choppers and escort?” the XO continued satisfied that his orders were carried out to the tee.
“Tell the escort to break off and engage while the choppers keep on target. Maybe between the missile barrage and the escorts they’ll be slowed up enough to be out numbered by our planes.”
“Yessir, and the McLeodian Tories?”
“They’re to be designated as non targets. Let them make the first move.”
“Yessir.” Turning to the comms officer the XO continued barking orders in a voracious tone that would make a grown man cry, but no one on this bridge flinched. “Get those escorts on the phone we’re telling them to engage the hostile cluster.”
“Sir?”
“Do it, tell them to cut engine speed until engagement, we’re trying to buy time for reinforcements and chopper drop.”
“Yessir.” The officer then turned to his boards and began calling call signs and the specific orders for them. The XO looked across the bridge and felt a pride tingle inside. This ship might be new but its crew was ready. Turning to another comms officer he shouted.
“Signal the fleet to make battle ready.”

OOC: lol this humanitarian mission is going to the dogs, all I wanted to do was help the survivors. Just a note to you none of my missiles fired in this engagement will respond to chaff deployment as they are guided by multiple satellites relaying an X,Y,Z co-ordinate to the missile itself.

"They did what!?!?!" exclaimed the Secretary-General of the Autonomous City-states. Sec-Gen Ericsson had only been in office for three months; winning the election on a platform of increased autonomy and less foreign involvement after his predecessor's term limits ran out.

"It was a crude one-hundred kiloton thermonuclear device, Mister Secretary-General. We assume that it was smuggled into the city by rebel military units and bypassed their terrorist threat warning system in the capitol," said the National Security Advisor.

"I recommend that we send the Prince a message offering him safe passage through our airspace and try to contact the King's command facilities," commented the Secretary of State. "We need to handle this delicately and with respect to international agreements."

The Secretary-General mulled over this for just a moment and nodded. "See if the Prince can be contacted. Keep our commo people on the high-wire and continue trying to raise the King on command frequencies. We will denounce this as a terrorist attack on the McLeod capitol in no uncertain terms."

<Perseus Flight, 211 miles north of NH helicopters>

"Perseus One to Perseus flight. Targets in radar range. Close to MAULRAAM range, and prepare to open fire, full spread, all fighters."

With that, all fourty Hornets accelerated to Mach 1.8, and charged quickly towards the outnumbered Nove Hope defenders.


<24th Squadron, Angel Flight>

Bull Castle let the range counter tick down to 110 nm before he broke radio silence. "All Angels, this is Angel One-One. Wait for NIRTSSAT lock-up, then fire."

As one, the eight aircraft let fly with four large MAULRAAM missiles each. The thirty-two missiles ignited their primitive scramjet engines and roared towards their targets at speeds in excess of Mach 4. The battle had begun.


<MAFCCP, deep below the ruined city>

"Your Majesty, we seem to be recieving broken transmissions from our bases throughout the country, but also another, much weaker at the moment, from outside. Seems to be coming from ACS sir. I'll keep working on it for now, see what I can raise."

The carrier John C. Handstand and it's two destoryer, three cruisers escorts head to McLeodia. The help the government. On The carrier Handstand, Ok somebody active a themonuclear weapon in Mcleodia. We are to enter Mcleodian waters and search for any form of government on island.

Sec-Gen Ericsson sits at his desk looking over the satellite images of the McLeod capital area and identifiable military movements. The fight is definitely on there. Ericsson doesn't dare get the ACS involved, though, without an express request of aid from the King or the Prince... his backing party would abandon him in an instant if he went off galavanting like his predecessor had.

But he could always be ready when that request came... The Secretary-General then picked up his phone and called Joint Operations Command. Within an hour, the FNS Tiamat and her submarine battlegroup were en route towards international waters.

OOC: I go on holiday for two weeks and all these good rp's appear! grrr. Neway

IC:

President Anderson had been woken early and was looking at pictures that had been delivered to him by one of the many Secret Service agents in the New White House.

Even now he was regretting the decision to say that nobody was to disturb him unless somebody important got nuked or a similar emergency. His staff had decided that this wasnt deemed important enough for him to be woken for, he hadnt screemed or shouted there was no point as what had been done had been done.

Next to the pictures of the remains of a city was an intelligence report, obviously compilied in a hurry detailing threats to international peace, USIH interests and other important information that needed to be presented to the commander-in-chief.

As he scanned the page he noticed that the King was missing, presumed dead. That troubled him. Recent relations with McLeod had been good and he had met the King not that long ago, both nations had a historic relationship dating back to just after their formation.

A knock came at the door and upon being allowed entry a Secret Service Agent entered.

"Mr President General Siler is on his way up to see you Sir"

"Thanks John, how are the kids" replied the President.

"They are ok sir, Tom was very thankful for the birthday present. When you have a moment he wants to thank you personally"

"Sure" replied the President as Chairman of the Joint Chiefs General Tom Siler walked into the bedroom. Alexandra Anderson was currently in Redge, visiting her life long friends the royal family there and so there was no problem with him being in the Presidential bedroom, not that she would have particularly minded a man in uniform in there, as she constantly teased her husband.

"Mr President we have some more intelligence on the situation. We were caught slightly off-foot and couldnt get satellite passes for some hours after the photos you hold in your hands. We can see military movements all over the country, we are drawing up a threat analysis now. Civil war looks likely at this point Sir, however outside help for any rebel factions is not being ruled out and is highly suspected."

"Ok, I believe that we have an alliance treaty with them at the moment, what assets have we in the area if we are asked to honour that commitment?"

General Siler knew that asked or not they would do.

"As of 0830 sir we have the Cruiser Forsythe and three destroyers escorting a weapons shipment convoy about 500miles away. They are the nearest, at full power they can get their in three to four days depending on weather conditions, although we will have to leave a destroyer with the convoy. Elements of the Northern and Home Fleets are engaged in training 400miles off the coast of Northern Brazil and can begin to be ordered North should it become necessary. The carriers Saratoga and Freedom are currently heading out of port in Redge(off the southern coast of France) after the REFORGER exercise. Aside from that most naval assets are in port of patrolling home waters. We currently have no army or air force deployments, bar those in permenant bases overseas."

"Ok Tom, lets get people ready to move if it comes to that. Any news of Ambassador Jennings yet?"

"No sir. We are not holding much hope on that front Sir. His residence wasnt very far from the royal palace and wouldnt have withstood a nuke."

"Ok thank you Tom. I'll get dressed and showered and see you in the briefing room."

The three Noviet defenders where in a perfect echelon pointed at the on rushing enemy hoard. Looking at the displays in his Super Hornet Captain Ernest Dumsfield shook his head with dismay. There was going to be almost a minute before the missiles arrived and another minute after that before reinforcements. With the boogies so outnumbered it was unlikely they’d win the only question was the number of losses the Noviets would take. Dumsfield was afraid that he and his two wingmen would be three of them. Coming onto the comms system he spoke to his mean.
“Well boys you heard the brass, we’re to engage and keep them from the choppers until reinforcements arrive.” The voice that answered him was dismayed albeit prideful.
“Its been good to serve with you sir.” Dumsfield nodded an unseen nod and answered.
“Yep, and I hope to serve with you again. *ahem* squad prepare to initiate Flashgasm*” With that the lead plane fired a missile on a ballistic trajectory set to a reduced speed. The two wingmen locked on to the slower than normal moving missile and activated the heat seekers on their Sidewinders, firing them at the missile**. The sidewinders leapt from the wings of the wingmen’s craft and collided with the original missile in a spectacular flash that temporarily blinded the oncoming boogies. The three planes pulled hard, the right wingman pulling right and dropping fast while the left wingman produced a similar maneuver. The centre plain however pulled hard into a vertical climb. None of the three planes had any forward motion any longer, their paths were all perpendicular to the projected boogie path. As the planes settled into their respective directions they all launched ECM/heat/reflective counter measures. While this doesn’t sound impressive the result, from the boogie perspective would be a giant fireball, from which the three planes shoot to all directions, then a sparkling display in the centre of the formation. The heat sig in the boogies would’ve seen the formation disappear behind a large target then the three smaller targets would’ve appear flying away from several smaller targets between them. RADAR would be registering six targets as the ECM is pulled along the wake of the jets, looking like a plane trailing on his own power. Dumsfield knew it was a simple tactic, he only hoped it’d at least slow them down as he tried to buy time for his wing and the choppers still running full flank for shore.


Endnotes
* I couldn’t think of a better name for it, but its not the official military name for it, its widely accepted slang within the military.
** The sidewinders used my the Noviet armed forces are custom jobs and not American.


OOC: Hopefully that made sense. Chances are anyone with experience would see through the ruse but it might confuse a novice and it would redirect at least a few missiles. You could humour me and have at least one errant plane :D

OOC: Nice idea, but by placing the planes bellies towards the bogeys, it vastly increases chance of radar lock. IR sensors would be useless, but any half decent system would be able to acquire the aircraft from that aspect.


IC:

<Perseus Flight>

"Jeez. Perseus Lead to Perseus flight, engage those targets". Each of the fourty aircraft fired two MAMRAAM advanced medium range IR/Radar guided missiles at the NH fighters, unaware of the threat facing their own fighters.

Fifteen seconds from impact, the large MAULRAAMs activated their self control systems. Four failed self tests and self destructed, but the remainder homed in rapidly on the rebel fighters. Only two missed their targets, and a few targets were hit twice by mistake, but the resultant carnage was huge. Fully half of Perseus flight disappeared in balls of flame and wreckage, with pilots given barely any warning, nor any chance to eject. Two more pilots collided in the confusion caused by the large fireball and the sudden deaths of twenty of their comrades-in-arms.

Slowly, four fighters broke away from the group, heading rapidly towards the carriers at low level, almost kissing the gentle waves lapping at the NH ships, pilots set only on one thing, the prevention of aid reaching the McLeods.


<Angel One, fifty-four miles east of Perseus Flight>

"Angels, move in and mop 'em up. For the King!" shouted Bull Caslte, breaking radio silence again, and hammering his fighter into an 8G turn, heading straight towards the surviving Hornets, closely followed by Angel flight behind him.


<MAFCCP, McLeodia>

"Sir, we have outside transmission. Awaiting the King's broadcast"


<Encrypted Transmission>
To: Prince Michael
From: King James VI

My son, great tragedy has befallen our country in your absence. I am dying, and by the time you return, this country shall be yours. But do not return to me yet, find safe refuge elsewhere, either in space or amongst our allies in ACS.

God bless you my child,

Your Father.

<End Of Transmission>


<Encrypted Transmission>
To: All McLeodian Allies
From: King James VI

As you are no doubt well aware, an uprising of unfathomable size has occurred within our country. The PFM has once again reared its ugly head, and yet a much greater and older threat, having lain in wait for centuries, has also emerged. The Morrison clan seek out the blood of my kin and my supporters. I ask you, no, I beg of you, even if you cannot directly support my clan for political reasons, at least protect those civilians who show their loyalty to myself, freeing up my own loyalist forces to wage war on these cowards.

Yours,

King James McLeod VI.

<End Of Transmission>

IC:

The New White House

"Mr President" the Secret Service Agent was this time standing in the door way to the oval office.

The President looked up from his desk.

"Sir we have a transmission from the King of McLeod just come through from NCC."

"Where?"

"Situation room Sir" said the Agent to the President who was already on the move. The Agent then said something else into his cuff microphone to inform the Secret Service Command Center as to the President's movements.

Within two minutes the President was in the situation room and had finished listening to the tape. With him were the Chief of Staff, the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the Secretary of State.

"Well then looks like we have an offer. What do they need? and more importantly what can we send them if they allow us?"

General Siler answered the question "Ground wise we can get XII Corps mobilized. As you know they are currently based in Redge, nearer to the area than we are. They could be loaded in a week and dispatched to arrive there in the following one. Airpower wise we have the carriers en route and we can bring in some Air Force fighters and short range bombers to loyalist controlled strips in Mcleod. Only problem will be munitions for them until our ships arrive. We have gathered that Mcleod weapons may not be compatible with our aircraft. We are looking deeper into that now."

"Very well. Mobilize them and get them onto transports. If nothing else happens they can have an unshedueled training exercise somewhere else."

"Yes Sir."


Fort Garrett, North Eastern Redge. XII Corps Command Building.

Lt.General Button had been looking over the plans, drawn up years before, to move his command to the nearby Portsmouth docks to load them onto the pre-positioned transport and RO/RO ships. The plans had been drawn long before and were well practised, but there were not enough ships in the port at the moment to load all 4 Divisions of XII Corps. For the moment only the 45th Infantry(Mechanized) and the 110th Cavalry Division were moving out, tanks and Armoured vehicles on low-loaders and trucks and HMMWV's driving themselves.

The lack of ships troubled him. He still had two Divisions, the 6th Infantry(Mechanized) and 9th Infantry(Mechanized) that were sitting at base doing nothing but watching the columns from the other Divisions drive by. More ships were coming in from Abrams, based there for the movement of II Corps, which had just finished deployment to Dr_Twist and was currently retraining and reequipping back at its home base.

Accompanying the Corps would be 2 Brigades of the Redge Royal Army, with their Challenger 2's and Warriors, they would be good companions for the comparatevely lightly armoured Infantry Divisions. They would be using their own transports and the Redge Royal Navy would be providing some of the naval escort for the armada of transports.

OOC: McLeod in assuming its ok for me to get involved??

OOC: The more the merrier, but i'm also hoping some people decide to support the other factions, otherwise this will be a very short-lived war. Come on you left wingers, give the PFM some support, and right-wing, help out the Morrisons. You know you want to.

OOC: Ok thanx, i will post more IC later on.

OOC:

As far as I know the Morrisons used a thermo nuclear weapon on a civilian target, because of that there is no way an elected official in my country could support them and maintain popular rule. Besides I hadn’t picked a side, it was picked for me. My effort was completely humanitarian until the Morrisons launched interceptors.

IC:

Taking Fire

The three defenders didn’t stand a chance really, the boogies fire was soaked up decently by the ECM counter measures, but it’s never a perfect science. The two diving pilots managed safe ejects and got spectacular views of the multiple hits on their planes. The climbing fighter managed to divert all the fire via counter measures, yet Dumsfield could feel something was going to go wrong, he was legendry that way. In a straight vertical climb for an extended period of time a lot of things can go wrong, this was minor, a tiny engine sputter that only slowed him down slightly. But that was the problem, with missiles detonating under him the shockwave broke the air stream and put him into a stall. The next was so close it took off his elevators. Dropping like a rock and spinning wildly Dumsfield tried reaching for the eject button. With the pressure behind his eyes building and his vision becoming a smaller and smaller tunnel it was as if everything stopped. He couldn’t move his hand, and he wasn’t having trouble breathing anymore in a silent prayer he breathed his last breath. If your there,... make it painless. as he lost consciousness his plane slammed into the water dislodging any piece on the main fuselage that wasn’t solid. Looking from above his wingmen watched in horror at the scene unfolding before them as the drifted silently to the ocean. If one could hear over the explosions and wind around them a silent incantation could be heard from one of the pilots.
“Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name,…”

Unintended revenge

As the boogies rearranged themselves from the McLeodian attack the missiles launched from the cruisers began to strike planes. Guided purely by a 3 dimensional co-ordinate the missiles had the same odds to miss as a sperm to fertilize wrapped in a latex teepee.

Watch the deck

Admiral Paterson’s tactical display was tracking so well on the dropping fighters he could see the droplets of water fly backwards into their wake as they were incoming to his carrier. Bastards we were flying a white flag! What’s worse is they’ve dropped below satellite targeting range, I can’t acquire Z***. Bolstering his command voice he boomed his orders out over the bridge,
“Eurgetes, Ptolemy, Seleucus, and Antiochus bring your sea sparrows to bear on the inbound fighters.* Hector, Paris and Ajax take a cue from the tactical fire tomahawks for a strike from below.** Main group push ahead, if there’s anything left your clean up crew.” With that missiles flew from the cruisers and after a second of calculation tomahawks burst forth from the ocean acquiring a RADAR lock

Endnotes
*These are Portlandia class cruisers, found here. http://s6.invisionfree.com/International_Mall/index.php?showtopic=838
** These are spirit class submarines, found here. http://s6.invisionfree.com/International_Mall/index.php?showtopic=749
*** The tracking system working on the principle of acquiring the image from orbit via 3 satellites. One above for X and Y while two on either horizon to acquire height, or Z. Being lower than the satellite can accurately distinguish the admiral can’t acquire Z on the incoming fighters.

Secretary-General Ericsson had the justification he needed, a direct request from the King. He called in his National Security staff to his office.

"Is the Tiamat Battle Group in position, yet?" asked Ericsson.

"They will be in position off the southern McLeodian coast within twenty-four hours, sir," replied the Chief of Joint Operations Command. "The Tiamat is preparing to surface and launch the rescue operation; and her six Neptune-class submarines are ready to defend her as need be.

"The Leviathan has positioned herself off the eastern McLeodian coast and is standing by to launch its unmanned bomber and fighter contingents in support of the Tiamat rescue operation. If the rebels so much as twitch at our people, we'll take them out."

Ericsson nodded approvingly. "In the event things go south, I want the Abraxas Special Forces Unit ready to deploy."

The Chief of Joint Operations Command was certain this Secretary-General was serious once he made that request. The Abraxas Team was an elite special forces unit based on the FNS Leviathan and equipped with the latest hi-technology gear. Their main purpose was to "go native" in enemy territory and conduct hit-and-fade-style guerilla warfare - but with the speed and firepower provided by advanced bipedal technology.

"Abraxas is standing by, on your order, sir."

Meanwhile, on board the FNS Tiamat...

Three C-131 Advanced Tactical Transports began going through their final checks. Each carried a squad of Federation Navy Counterterrorism Specialists who would locate critical McLeodian Government survivors and get them to the planes to evacuate, with the intention of providing them enough protection until they could reestablish continuity of government.

Each C-131 would be escorted by three FB-122D Interdictors and nine U/F-12 Unmanned Combat Air Vehicles. The Interdictor pilots would establish air superiority around the Tiamat while the Interdictor backseaters would control and direct the U/F-12 drones via satellite as they escorted the 131's all the way in and back.

The U/F-12s were small, stealthy, fast, and armed-to-the-teeth with four hypervelocity "Agile" air-to-air missiles. The miniaturized quantum nucleonic reactor on board provided enough power to drive the twin hybrid pulse-detonation engines, massively-parallel neural-net control computer, and a MASER for close-in combat.

NIRTSATs launched from the Tiamat's escort submarines a day ago were now settling in over McLeodian space and working to establish a battlespace map for the rescue team. Known Loyalist forces, known rebel forces, known foreign forces were catalogued and tracked by the tactical intelligence AI. Unknown forces were flagged for further study. Military intelligence was too important, too nuanced, and too information-intensive for the human brain to process anymore - it was all run by sapient AI these days.

With the birds fueled up, an operational plan developed by the AI, and everyone in position... all that was necessary now was the 'go' from the Secretary-General.

Airspace 30,000feet above McLeod03.

The Boeing 747 belonging to Independent Air, the largest Airline in the USIH began its descent towards one of the government controlled international airports.

In the first class seating area were sixteen men, all well-built and obviously in good physical shape. Dressed in smart suits they might have been business men, but for the combat gear and weapons that were stored equally in the overhead compartments and the main baggage hold.

They were in actual fact two teams of army special forces, the first USIH deployment to the country.

The monotonous voice of the pilot came through the cabin, informing the other passengers, most of whom were private security men under the pretence of looking for work. Where there was a war there were these men. However for this mission they were working for the USIH government, primarily to make sure that the Special Forces got into the country and then to help with security at the airport as more Special Forces and other "advisors" came in aboard mostly private aircraft.

Once the plane had touched down and was heading towards the gate the men in the front got up and got ready to leave, the stewardesses had been informed of who they were and instructed to get them out of the aircraft first so that they could meet with the official from McLeod who would be giving them a proper briefing.

OOC: Ill just assume that your government gave them permission. For the while ill keep my numbers small, and will continue to do so until people come in on the other sides. Is that ok?

OOC: Bump to give McLeod03 a chance to react.

<Perseus Flight>

The battle raged on, with F-114s flashing past their targets, cannon blazing, and MASRAAMs casting white lines across the blue sky. A further four Hornets fell, leaving just ten to struggle against the Wolfcats of 24th Squadron. Perseus One locked up a Wolfcat that had drifted into an overwatch position, and fired two Sidewinders and a long burst of cannon fire into the technically superior fighter, which rapidly completed its transition from aircraft to fireball. Over his shoulder, he saw another Hornet strafe a long Wolfcat, before being nearly cut in half as 30-mm cannon fire stitched a neat line down the fuselage and into the cockpit.


<Kamikaze flight of 4 Hornets>

The four Hornets that had broken away from the dogfight launched their payload of Harpoon missiles at the carriers, before flying quickly towards the larger ships in the fleet, pulling high-g manouvres in an attempt to avoid the incoming fire. One pilot blacked out, and in the blink of an eye, his aircraft hit the water at well over 600 knots, cartwheeling towards the NH fleet before settling and sinking.


<Southland International Airport, Gate 26>

"Gentlemen" said a tall man, well dressed, wearing dark glasses "Please follow me. I will take you to the temporary command facilities where you can recieve a full briefing. With any luck, we should get through to MAFCCP soon, then you can operate from there. Until then, I'm afraid the facilities aren't the best."


<Encrypted Transmission>
To: Sec-Gen Ericsson
From: King James VI

I have heard of plans to evacuate government officials from my country. I ask you to leave those who want to stay and fight, but take everyone else you can. I also ask that you take me family into your personal care. My wife Hannah, and both Emily and Elizabeth, are staying at our retreat near Southland. Please could you dispatch a unit to help protect them until they can be safely evacuated.


<Yorktown, Morrison held city>

"Brothers. It seems the McLeods are still recieving aid through the Southland Airport. We must act quickly and decisively to take out this threat. We will use captured armour to take us south as quickly as possible, travelling by night and day where weather allows cover." said William Morrison "May the true Lord bless your sword, and may your faith in him protect you from evil. Good luck men."

Behind him, once green fields had been churned up by thousands of tracked vehicles, most of which now sat waiting crews, ready for the attack on Southland. A mixture of APCs and the medium T-90 battletank, mainstay of the Royal Army, stretched as far as the eye could see, and all were pianted in the customary dark grey of Morrison vehicles, with sections painted in their tartan.

Lt.Colonel David Dickson led his team of the Special forces to the aircrafts hold where they unloaded both teams gear and put the assorted bags and cases into a collection of trucks and jeeps that had driven up to the aircraft.

The private security men where filing out along the steps as well, they were mostly ex-military although some were former SWAT officers. Some of their gear was in the 747's hold whilst the rest was being flown in on an AirForce C-5 Galaxy that could just be made out starting its approach run.

Onboard were also some supplies for the McLeods guarding the airport, and more would be coming by plane in until ships began to dock. This was the least efficient means of ordanence delivery, but at the moment was the only choice. Some of the massive AN-225's that had been procured through civilian owned companies, and were not technically AirForce property would also be flying in later that day carrying supplies, mainly AT rockets and machine guns, although a great deal of ammunition was being brought in as well.

The orbital satelitte high over McLeod saw the huge boom, a soundless daemon that consumed flesh and blood, rent apart stone and mason. A ruthless, merciless daemon that wouldn't stop until it was spent.

Mic'kus surveyed the screens in the dimly lit intelligence centre, different coloured screens throwing different hews about the buzzing room. The intelligence officer then came across something that looked interesting, his jaw dropped and he fumbled for the phone, he punched in a dial, a little parade of *blips* and *bleeps* emenating from it, he spoke into the reciever, sweat beading on his brow.

"Oh my god..." was the only reply Kli'pus could muster, "...How many are dead?" He waited and only heard silence before a reluctant reply came "We suspect they number in the thousands" Another stunned silence ensued before being quashed by another slow reply "God....I'll contact Hai'loosh as soon as I can, this will not go unpunished".

"Yes" Hai'loosh spoke calmly before turning slightly pale, "Yes....this will not go unpunished....." Silence ensued once more before he plonked the old beige phone down on it's perch, he then picked it up again and twirled the ancient device, a small whirring was heard whenever it rotated back to its original state. He lifed the aging phone to his ear and spoke into it.

To: McLeod Royal Family
From: Kli'kus
Subject: Aid

We will be happy to send aid, this is a travesty that will not go unpunished, we pray for the families of the lost and will do all we can to see this vile act of blatant genocide avenged. Do we have your permission to send militaristic aid?

Yours inquisitively, yet mournfully, Kli'kus

OOC: Damn, this RP looks great, could you please fill me on whos on which side, faction strength ect. ect.

OOC: From what i can determine the sides are the following

1) McLeod Royal Family + loyal supporters. Aided by myself, Nova Hope, ACS and now you.

2)Morrision Clan, responsible for the nuke. Currently no known outside support, quite popular, nearly as so as the royal family. Control the second largest city in the country (now biggest i assume as capital was flattened)

3) The popular front, with a name to that effect who aren't particularly popular atm. So far they havnt done very much, bar launching a few planes (40) against NH's carrier.

From what i can tell the Royal Family has the support of most of the army, although the Morrisions appear to also have a large amount of armoured vehicles including many tanks.

OOC: 1 and 2 correct, but it was the Morrisons who launched fighters against NH. The PFM still haven't actually done anything, just made a lot of noise.

The McLeods (Current Rulers) have the support of the Army and Air Force, with naval warfare so far unaffected. The Morrisons are slowly winning support with their talks of expanding the military, and also have taken control of large stockpiles of weapons created when McLeod03 was under threat of invasion. Most of their technology is second-rate compared to the McLeods, but they have superior numbers of troops in a smaller area to control, so are more likely to win over a narrow front, breaking the McLeodian defensive lines.

IC:

<Transmission>
To: Kli'kus
From: MAFCC
Subject: Re: Aid

This help would be very much apperciated, especially given the recent developments in terms of enemy armour concentrations moving rapidly towards the largest surviving airfield in the country. If that airfield is lost, so is the McLeodian rule.

Yours,

King James VI

OOC2: If no one has any objections, I'm going to be mostly RPing as the Morrisons for the duration of their attack. Assume the PFM to be trying to gain support at the moment, before later launching an attack. This battle could be key to the survival of the McLeods, since if that airfield falls, most of the northern McLeodian lands will go without proper aid or supplies.

As a slight twist, the armoured advance will run right over the Royal residence, where the Queen and both Princesses are currently residing. Although i could decimate the armoured column before it gets anywhere near, i am going to assume that for some reason or another, McLeodian air cover is unavailable, so their hands are forced into the type of battle they are least prepared for, full scale armoured forces engaging in land battles.

The battle will begin in earnest when I get round to writing it, but definately in the next 24 hours.

OOC: Ok so it will be McLeod armour meeting Morrison armour near to the airfield?

Also do you want me to evac the royals with my special forces just before the morrisons get there and kind of making them chase my 16 men around the countryside heading back to the airfield??

OOC: Could do. ACS is also gonna (hopefully) attempt an evac, so maybe he could evac them from the airfield, if you make it that far.

As for the battle - you'll have to wait and see.


<M4 motorway blockade Six-Alpha, McLeodian/Morrison border, 03:17am>

The wide open grasslands of the central plains of McLeod03 are a blessing for any mass movements of troops or civilians. The M4 had recently been widened to six lines each way, but with the civil war, it was completely deserted. Well. Almost. To the north, large blue clouds of diesel smoke cast a strange glow over the land, and a distant rumble was slowly getting louder.

Through the cloud appeared twelve dark shapes, hovering slowly in a wide pattern, before moving quickly ahead of the smoke, taking up positions nearly four miles ahead of it. Each shape grew larger, until the shape of an OH-6 Little Bird was revealed. Although only lightly armed, they were possibly the most dangerous element in the Morrison army. They slowed to a hover again, outside the range of the McLeodian defenders shoulder-launched missiles and guns. The horizon seemed to light up for almost thirty seconds, making it seem like a new sunrise. The truth however, was far less pleasant.

The 105-mm shells rained down across the defensive position, blowing sandbags and emplaced weapons high into the air. Guided by the OH-6s, the long range artillery strike decimated the road surface, as nearly six hundred HEFRAG rounds pummeled an area half the size of a football pitch. When the smoke cleared, secondary fires burnt in the ammunition stockpiles, and the occasional bullet pinged off across the black tarmac, deeply pitted with craters and shell holes.

Their job done, the OH-6's flew over the decimated blockade, their pilots not even glancing down at the carnage they had just caused. Five minutes later, two scout vehicles rolled over the fields next to the blockade, skirting around the damaged road surface, and checking for mines. Finding none, they continued. By now the rumble was intense. Lieutenant James Harris of the McLeodian Royal Army crawled over the rim of the crater he was hiding in, and fell back in shock. Down the slight hill in front of the defensive position, and in a group flanking his position on both sides, were some six thousand armored personnel carriers, supported by over two thousand tanks, five hundred scout vehicles and minesweepers, hundreds of repair vehicles, and a huge convoy of petrol trucks themselves guarded by AFVs mounting heavy machine guns. Behind them, he could see about a hundred 105-mm self-propelled howitzers, and numerous different self-propelled AA guns and mobile SAM units.

Harris pushed himself into the crater and started crying, knowing he had failed, and that there was nothing between here and Southland that could stop this force. His misery was ended by a tall man stepping up to the edge of the crater. He had a long pony tail, and work dark glasses. With his ruptured eardrums, Harris couldn't hear what was being said, but he recognized the man. It was the same one who made a speech just before the bomb went off. Without a moment’s hesitation, Harris drew his gun and fired wildly at the man, rage throwing his aim off, but from this distance, who could miss? He saw the man spin around and fall, before six men rushed to the edge of the crater. Like six bright stars in the sky, their carbines flashed and Harris felt pain no more.

--Airport Command Centre--

Now dressed in their standard camo gear the special forces men were assembled around a large scale map of the surrounding area. Each man had been given a smaller copy of it so that they could familiarise themselves with it during the drive ahead.

All but one of the men were around the map at the back of the white painted room. The other was sitting infront of a laptop computer looking at satellite pictures being sent from Special Forces command at Fort Hammond.

The pictures were barely 3 minutes old and showed a series of large smoking craters where there was supposed to be a roadblock. All around there was a sea of armoured vehicles, tanks, artillery and anti-aircraft guns.
The operator, Corporal Joseph Feinnes stared in amazement at it. Had he been in the special forces three years before he would have seen several times that amount of armour during the joint training exercise with Redge and Abrams, however they were all friendly.

As he pulled himself together, no more than five seconds after seeing the pictures he picked up the laptop and walked briskly to the other side of the room and brought Lt.Colonel Dickson aside.

"Sir you need to see this" he said as the Colonel excused himself from the breifing.

He took one look at the pictures and whilsted.
"Phew that is a lot of armour! Show our McLeod friends and then get your gear, they cant be more than fifty kilicks from our objective."

"Fifty two sir. Although the lead elements appear to be stopping for fuel after destroying this roadblock."

"Roger. Tell our friends." he turned to one of the men at the briefing. "Jim get the TACSAT."

"Sir." said the man as he moved out of the room to get the satellite radio.

He returned a minute later, with the radio already to go. He handed the telephone-like hand piece to the Colonel.

"Echo-Two this is Charlie Four, are you recieving over"

"Roger that Charlie Four, go ahead Dave."

"Sir we are going to have to push our mission up to an immediate start, we have heavy concentrations of enemy armour moving towards this airfield and before that the royal residence."

"Ok Dave, your the commander on the ground. Currently no IH close airsupport is avaliable, i guess the McLeods will be hitting that armour themselves." he made a mental note to ring the Airforce to try and get some B-2's to strike the road if the McLeods couldnt.

"Roger that Sir. Over and Out." he handed the handpiece back to the operator.

He turned to the assembled men, mostly his however there were some McLeod Special Force's guides accompanying them.

"Gentlemen we all know whats happening, mission launch time has been brought up, we are a go now. Lets move."


Within five minutes the convoy of 7 HMMWV's and 2 5tonne trucks was moving out of the airport.

In the front vehicle was Colonel Dickson, a McLeod guide and two more Special forces men, one driving the other manning the .50cal machine gun on the roof. They were all in full body armour and had their Kevlar helmets firmly on their heads.

The driver had his M249 SAW propped up inbetween the two front seats, with the guide next to him. In the back the Colonel had his M4A1 Carbine resting inbetween his knees and was also holding the M4 of the gunner, whom kept his M3 Shotgun with him.
On the seat next to him was a crate of LAW's, just incase they ran into any armoured vehicles.

The situation was grave; everyone on board the Federation Navy ships near McLeod03 knew it.

Operation Knights Templar was given the go-ahead. Each of the three C-131s and their escorts took to the air with the aid of the Tiamat's electromagnetic catapults.

Flight One immediately began to fly towards Southland; as it would soon be under siege. The Abraxas Unit from the Leviathan, aka "the Lev," was already en route to the royal residence with orders to protect the King's family - they would be deployed by ballistic drop canisters launched from the Lev's VLS. If Abraxas could not hold the building, they would evacuate the queen and the princesses to an alternate landing zone.

Two U/B-101 "Wraith" Unmanned Strategic Bombers from the Lev were also in the air and approaching Southland airspace. Flying NOE, nap-of-the-earth, and at high speed, the Wraiths were employing their best air defense avoidance tactics... but with blinding speed and accuracy thanks to their top-of-the-line AI which was in constant contact with the Lev and its battlefield management AI by satellite. Both were armed with eight hypersonic interceptor air-to-air missiles, four plasma-yield warhead ABM missiles, and sixteen Wolverine hypermaneuverable cruise missiles.

Flight Two continued on towards the shattered capitol city with the intent of picking up any surviving government and military officials to repatriate them.

Flight Three flew high and slow over the McLeodian countryside... both to keep an eye out for any mayday signals and to attract attention away from the first two flights.

OOC: Bump

OOC: are we waiting for McLeod to make a morrision move or shall i cont?

OOC: I think it would be better to let him make a move first.

OOC: Sorry guys, been out most of the day.

IC:

<113 miles north of the royal residence near Southland>

The huge armoured column rolled on, crushing through three more blockades, taking only a handful of casualties as they ran over minefields or were ambushed by regular forces as they retreated towards Southland. Despite this no near constant harrassment, nothing seemed to be stopping the armour in its advance.

Almost a mile back, in the back of a command-variant M3A3 Bradley, William Morrison sat with his left arm in a sling, nursing two gunshot wounds from the attack on blockade Six-Alpha. His right arm held a small thremos cup of coffee, and despite the occasional jolting of the APC< he managed to find time to make notes on the advance, and go over satellite maps, showing how clsoe they were getting to their targets. Then, all of a sudden, he heard multiple AA guns open fire, from the deep bang of the 60-mm units, through the richer 40-mm Bofors cannon, right up to the stattaco bursts of 14.7- and 12-mm machine gun fire. Looking through a gunport on the rear door, he could see bursts of coloured tracers reaching up into the dark sky.

Then he saw one. A dark shape flashed across the convoy, and was followed by a series of explosions, destroying four or five transport trucks, and more importantly, two of the essential fuel tankers. All around him now, Morrison could hear more gunfire and explosions, as yet more of his lighter-armoured vehicles were destroyed. Braving a look through the commanders hatch, he saw another of the small craft fly over the convoy, this one much closer than the last, spitting 20-mm cannon fire and raining small yet devastating missiles, destroying two tanks and three more APCs.

Jumping back into the APC, he immediately ordered the convoy to spread out, to minimise damage to it. 'StealthHawks' Morrison thought 'So now the McLeods begin to really fight'


<Kamikaze flight>

The three remaining Hornets closed in on the NH ships, firing a volley cannon fire into any ships in front of them.


<Perseus One>

Perseus One looked around. His flight was gone, and behind him, the five remaining Wolfcats were closing for the kill. Without a moments hesitation, he reached down and pulled the ejection handle. At nearly Mach 1, he blacked out instantly from the airflow, but didn't outrun the explosion of his fighter, as cannon and missile fire ripped it into thousands of tiny pieces. The first Morrison fighter ace died, like thirty-nine others, at the hands of a select few.


<Royal Residence, near Southland>

What had once been a beautiful country manor with hectares of surrounding gardens now looked more like a military fortress. The nearby army base had been able to provide troops and vehicles to make the stand and help protect the queen, but evacuation would be nigh on impossible without aerial support, which was currently only available in the form of a few StealthHawk UCAVs.

Huge trench networks criss-crossed the lawns, and hundreds of men crewed anti-tank missile batteries or recoilless rifles, ready to try and hold off the massive armoured assault. T-92 MBT's were dug into shallow holes, offering some albeit limited protection for the crews.

Even the manor itself had been worked on. Most of the windows had been lined with welded steel shutters to try and stop tank shells penetrating the house, and a mixture of snipers, machine gunners, and more AT crews were hidden amongst the chimney stacks, balconies, and patios. Inside, defensive positions had been set up to prevent infantry from capturing the royal family, who were hidden in the basement, guarded by men from the elite Royal Guard. The troops were as ready as they could be, and all they can do is wait for any support available to them from foreign powers. The Royal Army and Air Force were too busy trying to maintain borders with the rebellious factions to be able to spare troops to assist.

OOC: Hey sorry about the incommunicado eh, I’ve been having back trouble lately and blah blah blah real life got in the way. Again sorry, now I shall continue. As a note you haven’t posted any reaction to the volley of missiles fired at your main group from the cruisers.

I’m also not seeing how the planes that close to the water had a chance to react to the missiles coming up from the water but that’s cool.

IC:

The fighters were avoiding the munitions from the ships, it was amazing, they were doing maneuvers that should’ve popped their eyes from their sockets. Admiral Paterson saw what was happening, it was a desperate tactic, but it looked like they might be taking out a ship, whether or not they survived was another matter.
“All cruisers load the cannons with flak we are taking those birds down. Battleships launch missiles, these ships are not to be touched!” With that the air began to blacken with clouds of hot metal spewed forth from the eight inch barrels of the cruisers within the carrier group. The ships were abuzz with activity as they launched everything they could to down the enemy aircraft.
“Sir we have a positive lock on incoming weapons.”
“Damn! Fire the counter measures, fire the Chaffs and fire the flares.” Switching onto the PA system the admiral shouted, “All hands brace for impact!”

Now in range of the major aerial melee the main squadron activated their satellite uplinks. Waiting for a perfect synchronization all 97 fighters launched their guided missiles. With no tone and guided by satellite enemy losses were expected to be high. The missiles leapt off the wings of the planes leaving a trailing plume behind only to be chased by another missile. Now one hundred ninety four missiles raced into the dogfight on course to their Morrison targets.

OOC: McLeod, do you want my special forces guys to stay and fight or try and evac? I am guessing that you want them to fight?

<the skies over the Royal residence>

The drop canisters were slightly aglow from their ballistic trajectory, having long since dropped their booster rockets. After a few moments, the canisters themselves burst apart at the seams and fell away to reveal the bipedal powered armor units of Abraxas. Their parachutes immediately popped out to slow their descent to a manageable speed.

The eight-man Squad One landed in clearings around the residence and quickly set to work. They deployed microUAVs to set up a tactical recon network around the immediate area. Each member of Squad One checked and double-checked his or her weapons. Six of the team carried automatic coilguns, one was sporting a semiautomatic recoilless rifle, and another was in charge of the two semiautomatic rocket bazookas. All had monomolecular fractal blades for close-in combat.

If worse came to worse and they had to evacuate, each member of Squad One had what looked like an armored pouch on the back - just big enough for one person to squeeze into. The queen, the princesses, and five advisors had a ticket out of there.

<KT Flight One>

The manned fighter escort had dropped behind to maintain their BARCAP around the Tiamat. Now, it was up to the UCAVs to keep up the safety net as Flight One flew closer and closer to the combat zone. Fuel wasn't so much of a concern with the conformal fuel tanks strapped on and the relative efficiency of the QNR-driven turbofan engines. The danger was in finding a safe landing zone to evacuate any refugees.

<KT Flight Two>

Flight Two had the longest flight path of any of the three and, potentially, the most dangerous as they had to avoid the fallout zone. They didn't have enough fuel to return directly to the Tiamat, so a course was plotted to return to the Lev after picking up as many people as they could. The C-131's UCAV escort kept their never-tiring eyes open for Morrison fighters and air defense units. With any luck, they wouldn't see any.

<KT Flight Three>

Flight Three, on the other hand, was drawing attention to itself. Over the civilian and military emergency bands, the communications officer on the C-131 continued to transmit messages calling out for stranded survivors and ambushed McLeodian units that needed help. The pilot had been given authorization to do what was necessary to aid the other flights in their mission; so he began to try to fly around the advancing Morrison column... as if to try to pick up any survivors left in its wake. All the while, the planes in Flight Three flashed their lights in a pattern indicating they were non-hostile. They weren't taking any unnecessary chances.

<Wraith Flight>

The StealthHawk attack on the advancing Morrison column had been forcing them to disperse, which was exactly what the battlefield management AI on the Lev wanted. The Wolverine cruise missiles had been loaded up with morphing copper slugs designed to become superheated, hyperkinetic "skeet" shots for taking out mobile infantry and tanks.

Because of the column dispersing from the StealthHawk attack, the battlefield management AI was better able to distinguish targets from the near-realtime NIRTSAT feeds and feed that information to the Wraiths. Distinct target groups were identified and a coordinate algorithm with feedback loop fed to the Wolverines.

Each Wolverine carried four "skeet shooters." Each skeet shooter carried 200 copper slugs. As the Wraiths weaved in and out of the hilly countryside, they silently dropped Wolverines into the air every ten seconds until all thirty-two were en route to converge over the column - all from different directions, all flying low and fast, and all ready to rain death metal onto their targets below.

--Royal Residence--

The small convoy pulled up to the grand house. They had been stopped several times, but their McLeod guides, coupled with the official papers they carried enabled them to get through.

As they began disembarking they saw the ACS men landing, the men looked at them with all their high tech equipment and made some rude comments to each other. They didnt make them very loudly as those guys could be useful in the fight that they were sure was coming.

They saw that the residence was pretty well stocked for ammunition and rockets, but they unloaded what extra they had brought in the trucks, including two TOW launchers that would be very bad news for advancing tanks.

Whilst the men were doing that, and handing LAW's to soem nearby McLeods, Colonel Dickson and his radio operator went in search of the commander.

OOC: FYI -- http://phalanx.i8.com/FACS/jointops/abraxas04.jpg

OOC: FYI -- http://phalanx.i8.com/FACS/aerospace/M-088.jpg

OOC: FYI -- http://phalanx.i8.com/FACS/aerospace/M-088.jpg
ahh the old bump in disguise

OOC: Sorry guys. I've got an OOC crisis, so i won't be posting lots every day, but should be able to get on most days when i get back from the hospital.


IC:

A few of the nearby McLeodian soldiers looked on in awe as the Abraxas walkers strode past. They had heard of these units, but none of them ever thought they'd see one, and now they'd get to see them in action too. The rest were too busy clearing fire zones in front of their positions, and triple checking fixed range markers to enable accurate ranging quickly. Of course, in battle, it meant nothing, but the commander knew it would keep his mens minds' off of the task in hand.

Piles of ammunition lined the trenches, ranging from the standard 5.56- and 7.62- rounds for the assault rifles and machine guns up to the larger 20-mm shells for the recoilless rifles, and the heavy Brimstone anti-tank rounds. Some soldiers even carried close-combat weapons, knives and bayonets, and a few could be seen with full length claymores propped in front of them. They were as ready as they could be for the battle.

A McLeodian officer ran up to the IH SpecOps troops. "Good to see you folks. The choice is yours whether you stay and fight or get the Queen out of here. Our orders are to hold this position. Protecting the Queen is an obvious duty, but we cannot jeopardize the civilians in Southland just to save her. If you want to stay and fight, set up positions in the house itself. There you'll ahve good cover, and be able to take down any troops who might make it into the hosue itself. If you want to get the family out, there are a few vehicles in the garage that you can take. Head south and don't stop for anything."

Another officer approached the Abraxas troops. "Finally, we get to see what you boys can do. You will be most needed in the defensive lines, but we have som reports that loyalist armour will be attacking from the east once we pin down the Morrisons in the field over there" he said, pointing to the long stretch of grassland in front of the trenches "If you would prefer, you could wait and launch a counter attack from the West and North, trapping the Morrisons in a circle. That way, you can hit their artillery and lighter vehicles at the rear of the convoy."


<Morrison armoured convoy, 81 miles North of Royal Residence>

The devastation caused by the Wolverine strike was huge. The molten copper slugs slammed through the upper armour of hundreds of tanks, APCs, and light vehicles. But still, the convoy rolled on, having lost nearly 15% of its armoured vehicles and MBTs. This was a war, and casualties were going to exist on both sides. But for most of the Morrisons, it was the first time they had seen their friends and in some cases family killed.

The convoy pushed on, regardless, with rage in their hearts and bloodlust running through their veins.


<Kamikaze flight>

Without warning, the three fighters suddenly pulled up, and attempted to turn back, suddenly aware of their own mortality. Two were struck instantly, their pilots not even having a chance to breath. The third bailed out of his burning aircraft, only a few hundred feet above the water, and slammed into the rough oceans hard enoguh to break both his legs, but fortunately not hard enoguh to kill him.


OOC2: ACS - there will be some ambush groups needing extract, i just need time to work on how that section will go.

OOC: If your having OOC probs, then we can leave this for a while till you get them sorted out, theres no point in leaving something that sounds pretty important to come post on here. Im sure Nova Hope and ACS will agree, that way you can get what ever it is sorted out :). However if you want to keep this going to get your mind off it for a while we wont stand in your way :).

-Royal Residence-

Colonel Dickson tapped the trigger guard on his M4 as he thought. He then turned back to the McLeodian officer.

"Myself and Team 1 will stay here to help you guys out. I'll send Team two with the Royals, im assuming they have some bodyguards here as well? They can go to the airport with those vehicles and a couple of these Hummer's. From there they can be evacuated to somewhere safer by ACS, or so my command have told me. We will keep most of the vehicles here including the trucks as they have plenty of extra ammo and rockets incase we start running low."

Getting a nod from the McLeodian officer he keyed up his personal radio.

"Major" he said, indicating his Second in Command Major Leo Williams "Take your team with two of the Hummers to the garage. Then your taking the royals outta here and back to the airport. Make sure that ACS evac them, if not speak to command and get some of our transport in for em."

Major Williams, supervising the unloading of the truck pressed the button on his neck band to key his radio in and replied with an affirmative. Pressing another button on his neck band he changed to the team frequency.

"Team two, front two vehicles lets move."

As they moved to the Hummers they looked at each other under their Kevlar helmets, giving the ACS guys a glance over their shoulders as they got in.

When they were all in they drove quickly to what they assumed were the now opening garage doors, and parked next to them, leaving on man in each turret whilst the other five in the team fanned out to cover the garage. Major Williams stepped inside to await the arrival of the royals.

OOC: If your having OOC probs, then we can leave this for a while till you get them sorted out, theres no point in leaving something that sounds pretty important to come post on here. Im sure Nova Hope and ACS will agree, that way you can get what ever it is sorted out :). However if you want to keep this going to get your mind off it for a while we wont stand in your way :).

OOC: I agree entirely. We will do this at McLeod's leisure.

<Royal Residence>

The commander of Squad One smiled from within his XM-91 and said over the loudspeaker to the McLeodian and IH officers, "Hit and fade from the rear is what we do best, my friends. If the IH special ops team will get the royals to Southland, our transports will evac them to the Tiamat battle group where they will be safe. We have our own evac capability waiting at the alternate landing zone."

With that, ABRAXAS Squad One began to move into the trees. With a slight flicker, they engaged their electrchromic visual stealth paneling and all but disappeared. While not perfect invisibility, the chances of a tank or APC moving at high speed of seeing them was almost nil. They would be ready to strike - like a snake hidden in the underbrush - when the enemy came down.

<KT Flight One>

The communications officer on the C-131 called out to the pilot, "New orders, Major! We are to divert to Southland where we will pick up any government officials that have congregated there. It looks like we're going to be picking up the special package, too."

The pilot and co-pilot both nodded and began the turn for Southland. Their unmanned fighter escort banked in unison, maintaining the box around their designated C-131.

<KT Flight Two>

There had been a couple of close calls with Morrison patrols and a couple of NBC alarms; but, thus far, Flight Two had been able to avoid any real trouble. They were only a couple of hours away from the smashed capitol city now and the moment of truth.

<KT Flight Three>

Flight Three continued broadcasting on the emergency bands; having already picked up one group of McLeodian infantry that were separated from their main force. With the help of the McLeodian NCO in charge of that group, they were now searching for more.

<Wraith Flight>

The missile attack on the Morrison column was successful, but not as successful as hoped. The Wraiths then adopted a flight pattern in the hills adopted from insects, making it difficult for human eyes and radar operators to track. Their job at this point was to keep an eye out for theater ballistic missiles and heavy artillery - if one popped up, the Wraiths were to kill it immediately.

OOC: Thanks guys, but i need something, like IH said, to keep my mind off things.


IC:

<Morrison Armoured Column, 41 miles north of Royal Residence>

The surviving tanks and armoured vehicles pulled off the M4 motorway and began to carve a path across fields and hedgerows. It was late in the evening, which would mean they would hit the defences around the residence in almost pitch black conditions, perfect for covering the tanks from forward spotters.

Two hundred yards in front of the lead tank lay a narrow valley, some four hundred yards wide, rising rapidly on both sides to a heavily wooded area at the top. In spring, a large river flowed through here, but now, it was little more than a small stream, with the occasional boulder strewn about. The tank crossed into the valley, and the group began to narrow down to pass through. Just as the T-92 began to reach the far end of the valley, it exploded without warning. Then, heavy mortar rounds began to fall, disabling most of the front row of tanks, and effectively blocking off any exit from the valley. Nearly three hundred tanks and around a hundred APCs were stuck in the valley, when the rearmost vehicles, at the start of the valley, also exploded. Now those inside were trapped.

Then the killing began in earnest. Sixty Brimstone missiles shot down from the valley sides, slamming into the tops of the T-92s, causing huge fireballs that shot above the top of the killing zone, as AM rifle fire rained down on the APCs and anyone trying to escape the valley on foot was cut down but punishing amounts of rifle fire. Hundreds of demolition charges sailed into the middle of the group of trapped vehicles, destroying nearly seventy of the armoured vehicles. Then, just as quickly as it began, the firing stopped. The Morrisons had lost over a thousand men and hundreds of armoured vehicles.

By the time Morrison infantry had reached the top of the valley sides, they were deserted. The convoy pulled the wrecked vehicles out of the way and after almost an hour and a half, carried on through the valley.


<Raymonds Valley, above the ambush site>

The troops of the 22nd Regiment slipped away quickly, splitting into five groups of around twenty men, and tabbing quickly away from the site in different directions. The ambush had gone of without a hitch, and the only injury was caused by someone who had tripped over a tree root during the evac, badly spraining his ankle.


<Royal Residence>

As the IH troops sat waiting, the Queen and both Princesses were rushed through the house by their Royal Guard protection unit. The three were split up, and placed in different vehicles. The two princesses went into their own heavily armoured Range Rovers, driven by RPU agents, and filled with Royal Guard. The remainder of the guard filled other Range Rovers, and began to move out. The Queen shrugged off her bodyguards and approached the IH Humvees. She smiled at the Team 2 leader, and mouthed 'Thank You' before she stepped into a third SUV. The convoy of vehicles began to move out, waiting for the IH Humvees to take point and rear guard positions, as they were the only vehicles with exterior weapons. It would be a long drive to Southland, but time was not something the agents could afford to waste.

OOC: Bump for interest. Come ON.... No one wants to fight for the PFM or the Morrisons?

ooc: try developing them more. Right now the morrisons just look like your saturday morning cartoon villians. (nuke a city)

the pfm are just to silent. Try RPing out some injustices brought down on them by one of the other two factions. It might spark some humanatarian interest. Then maybe later military aid.

OOC: I've got to take my fiancee sightseeing... I'll see if I can stir things up a bit when I get back.

The Hummers took up their positions at the front and rear of the small convoy and headed out at speed. There vehicles could only do about 70mph, but they were doing nearly that as they got onto one of the main roads. The special forces men were driving wearing NV goggles, and the gunners had some as well. The lights on the cars were turned out so as not to alert any enemy in the area. They had distributed the few spare sets of NV equipment to some of the royal guards in the rangerovers before hand along with some spare batteries and a very brief tutorial, covering only how to switch them on and attach them to their head, although the men seemed highly competant with them.

-Royal Residence-

Colonel Dickson had set his men up inside the house. Four were on the first floor and the head of the stairs, in a sandbagged emplacement with an M249 and their other weapons. Three others had been setting up claymore mines around the enterances to the house and had been camoflauging the detonation wires. Once they were sure that all the friendly troops were inside and in cover they would detonate their mines in the faces of the enemy before moving back to their secondary positions.
The last member of the team had moved up onto the roof, with the spare NV goggles to distribute them to the men there. He also had his M21 Sniper Rifle and a Scoped and Silenced M4 Carbine with plenty of ammo for both so as to act lookout and take out at first enemy officers and commanders, and then if they could not be found targets of oppurtunity.

<Morrison Armoured Column, 32 miles north of Royal Residence>

William Morrison looked at the satellite overlay of his forces. 'This NIRTSSAT tactical control system really is a bonus' he thought, watching as the forward elements blasted through a small village, guns sweeping left and right, ignoring civilians, looking for McLeodian troops. Zooming in, he could even identify the ranks of soldiers in the turret hatches from the markings on their uniforms. He was surprised to get this far with such light losses if the McLeods had access to such amazing technology.


<Royal Residence, 21:57pm>

The troops settled into foxholes and defensive positions. In less than an hour, the enemy would be here, and the battle that would make or break the McLeodian regime would occur. Each man checked his equipment, including the tactical helmets, which provided not only protection, but also live satellite feeds from overhead military satellites, including virtual overlays of the battle field, identifying friendly troops with green crosses, and enemy troops with a red circle. On top of all this, it included radio and satellite communication devices, a GPS system for navigation, and low light vision capability.

A McLeodian officer approached the IH SpecOps troops that stayed behind, and handed out the few spare systems to them, hoping to avoid friendly fire if and when the claymores were blown. The pieces were in position, and soon the time would come for action.


<Fort Inverness, 75 miles east of the Royal Residence>

In the cool air of the underground shelter, some four hundred T-92 tanks sat, engines idling gently, as huge extraction units sucked the diesel fumes out, dispersing them at an industrial complex a few miles away. Each was upgraded to Block 2, with upgraded Chobham armour, and mounting Brimstone launchers. With better armour than the rebel tanks, this small force could cause chaos once the rebels were caught up by the defences around the Royal house, especially with the support of the other occupants of the base.

Four full EA/B-5 squadrons, some 48 aircraft, sat in their own portion of the base, on huge elevators that would, when ordered, take them to the surface and the wide runway above. Each carried a payload of two MASRAAM short-range air-to-air missiles, 800 rounds of 25-mm cannon ammunition, and eight Brimstone anti-tank missiles. So equipped, the squadrons could deal with any airborne threat to the defences, and still wreak havoc amongst the Morrison tanks.

All of a sudden, red lights flashed, and a klaxon sounded. Crews began to rush to their aircraft and tanks, ready to leave within minutes, and begin the master stroke that would cripple the Morrisons once and for all.

<Open Transmission on all frequencies>
From: Kim Hamilton, leader of the new PFM.
To: All world leaders of left-wing countries

Comrades. For many years now, our country has suffered from a lack of democracy. The right wing bourgeoise government has forced us into wars we don't want, and put our nation into great peril. With the infighting between the two major clans in the country, now is our time to rise up and try to restore peace and order to this country. Help us make McLeod03 communist. This can, unfortunately, only be done with a return to the ways of war carved for us by the fouders of the PFM.

Please, i beg of you, help us.

Kim Hamilton

<End Communication>


<Current population support update>

McLeods - 41%
Morrisons - 39%
PFM - 20%

<ABRAXAS Squad One>

The demolitions expert with Squad One buried seismic sensors in the ground to warn them of the Morrison approach. He then set up proximity anti-tanks mines in a pattern designed to force the Morrison mechanized units to avoid the side trails.

The Abraxas units then set themselves up in an inverted crescent formation so that, when the moment came, they could concentrate firepower on specific targets while avoiding crossfire on each other. Using a combination of the electrochromic panels and local foliage, Squad One was blended into the rocks and trees of the forest -- leaving the paths the tanks would have to go through (i.e. the main route to the Royal Residence) wide open.

<KT Flight One>

The C-131 sat on the tarmac at Southland. Their doors had been opened to any senior McLeod government officials and their families that wanted to leave; however, the sleeping compartment behind the cockpit was reserved for the Queen and her daughters.

The drone escorts kept watch in rotations so that at least two were in the air at any given time. The rest took the opportunity to literally cool their jets and update their tactical computers.

<KT Flight Two>

The C-131 communications officer began transmitting the "pickup" signal over McLeodian civilian and military emergency bands as they approached the capitol. The sight was eerie. The section hit by the nuke was utterly devastated and reduced to mostly cinders; while the suburbs and outlying parts of the city were mostly intact. Even so, the city appeared to be dead - probably from fear of the fallout or Morrison attack. Flight Two was on station. It was up to the McLeodians now.

<KT Flight Three>

Nothing new to report.

<Wraith Flight>

Flying under EMCON without a human crew and its needs has many advantages. One of them being that it is much easier to monitor other transmissions and sort them out. Utilizing their advanced processing capability, the two Wraiths began picking apart Morrison transmissions and data feeds from the similar McLeod frequencies. This data was then sent back to the Lev by microburst transmission for its superior battlefield management AI to figure out any useful targeting data.

<The Leviathan>

The Captain of the Lev sat in the Combat Operations Center which also served as the bridge of the massive submarine. The COC was wider than it was long to accomodate the all-digital tactical screens that could be as detailed as necessary - from immediate combat to global planning. The battlefield management AI, nicknamed "Bam," wanted to discuss its findings with Captain Dacani.

"Captain, the Wraiths have come across an interesting problem. It appears that rebel forces have gained access to the same NIRTSAT tactical network the McLeodians utilize for battlefield management," Bam said in its calm, masculine, matter-of-fact tone.

Dacani smirked. He wasn't at all surprised given the fact that traitors within the McLeodian military had to have been responsible for the nuke in the first place. Access to tactical satellites was small-fries, by comparison. "Bam, you wouldn't have brought this up unless you already had a solution thought out for me. What's your plan?"

"With pleasure, Captain. It is a scientific and statistical fact that the best solution is one that is as simple as possible to implement; yet flexible enough to address any unforseen nuances. I recommend that we launch Zenith anti-satellite missiles and destroy the McLeodian NIRTSAT network. Changing the access codes will not do because their system has already been compromised," Bam offered.

Captain Dacani could hear a hint of pride in Bam's statement, not that he could blame the AI. "That would deny the McLeodians their own tactical advantage, Bam. Not to mention that they would likely be extremely pissed off if we destroyed all that hardware."

"With all due respect to the McLeodians, a compromised intelligence gathering system that equally aids your enemy is one that needs to be destroyed. As long as those satellites are active, the rebels can use them given their penetration of the McLeodian military system," Bam countered.

Dacani was sure Bam was probably right, as it was designed to provide the best answer from a tactical and strategic perspective. Too many wars in history had been lost by following the political answer instead of the logical answer. Even so... "Would it be enough to set off an EMP above the rebel column to cut them off at least long enough for the battle to commence?" Dacani queried.

"That assumes that the rebels do not have shielded electronics, Captain. If they are using captured McLeodian communications and control vehicles without any additional modification, the EMP would have to be strong enough that it would risk affecting our forces and Royal forces in the area as well.

"We can destroy the McLeodian NIRTSATS and give Royal commanders access to our secure network. Any attempt by rebel forces to launch new NIRTSATS would force them to expose any captured launch sites and vehicles - which we could then hunt and destroy," Bam answered.

Dacani nodded in agreement. The plan was tactically sound and the Lev had been given authorization to do whatever possible to slow the rebel advance. "Commence the attack," the Captain said somewhat reluctantly.

The McLeodian NIRTSATS were easy to identify and track because of both their orbit and the fact that both the rebels and Royals were using them so much. Dacani arranged for trusted Royal commanders to be given the access codes to ACS NIRTSATS watching the region as the Zenith missiles were loaded into the VLS.

As the messages were sent off, so were the Zenith missiles. The satellite killers were ejected from their launch cells by cold gas pressure up into the water. Once the seeker heads broke the surface, the booster rockets engaged and a ripple of fire for each NIRTSAT exploded onto the waves. At this point, the terminal guidance provided by the Federation Navy's own satellites virtually ensured that interception was simply a matter of first-year orbital mechanics.

OOC: Nice twist.

IC:

<Royal Residence>

The Guard Commander, a tall broad shouldered man named Will McLeod, surveyed his men and their positions through the tac helmet. Then, without warning, the view faded, leaving only two words blinking in front of his eyes. "CONNECTION LOST". McLeod flicked up the visor and checked the battery pack. Nothing. Around him, he saw his men checking their own equipment. That meant only one thing. The NIRTSATs were down. "Damn it" he thought out loud, scaring a few of the junior soldiers nearby.


<Morrison convoy, 19 miles from Residence>

William Morrison watched the overlay screen freeze then be replaced by those same two words, blinking in red in the center of the screen. He had lost his command map, and hadn't thought to make any reserve. He had no idea where his men were deployed, nor exactly where the house even was. He was effectively blind.

"White Knight to all units. Proceed on course. The target is 1-9 miles ahead. Artillery, fire for effect. Blue flight, push up and spot for the artillery. Get to work boys" he said, speaking into the radio. Behind him, the self-propelled and towed artillery began to open fire on the residence and its grounds as the armoured sections pushed forwards towards the house.


<Fort Inverness>

As the T-92s began to roll out, the shutdown of the NIRTSATs reached them too. Luckily, the tank commander had never trusted the NIRTSATs entirely, and had fitted the tanks out with GPS systems that worked off civilian band satellites. While not as accurate, it enabled him to lead his attack carefully.

The EA/B-5s would have to rely on their own radar systems to guide them and their missiles onto their targets, which made them vulnerable to AA weapons, but the mission had to be a success, so the pilots began preparations for take-off regardless.


<MAFCCP, deep beneath McLeodia>

"Your Highness, we have a flight of ACS transports inbound to evac people out. I suggest you go with them" reported the MAFCC duty commander.

"No General. You go. Take all non essential personel who want to leave, take the diplomats, and any of my house staff. If anyone else wants to leave, let them. I'll take command here" replied James VII, calmly.

"As you wish sir" answered the duty commander, before rushing off the carry out his duty.

Just then, the NIRTSAT system went offline. The entire command centre went into chaos as technicians and operators began rushing around trying to get a connection on the geostationary satellites that hadn't been used for this purpose for months. Throughout the chaos, one man approached the King, holding a copy of the ACS tranmission regarding the destruction of the NIRTSAT system.

"Great. So now our men in the field have no tactical combat system? Superb. But, they're right. It had to be done. The rebels had access to the system, and it had to be shut down. I just hope our boys can fight well enough without it. Send a reply when we get a line. Tell them thankyou for disabling the system, but add that i would like a private word with those responsible when this is over." said the King, slumping into the leather chair slightly.

<Royal Residence>

Colonel Dickson had one of the spare sets, instead of his Kevlar helmet which he still kept close at hand. He was just getting used to the display when it disappeared being replaced by flashing red letters.

He tapped the system a couple of times, nothing.

So he removed it from his head, placing it onto one of the tables being used as a secondary barricade, and replaced it with the Kevlar helmet and his personal set of NV goggles, fitting them onto the helmet and then flicking them up so that they pointed at the roof, giving him natural vision.

"Better report this in" he said to his radio operator.


On the roof Sgt.Leo Smith was looking through his NV binoculars when suddenly the horizon lit up as if somebody had flicked the light switch. Then as quickly as it had appeared the light disappeared. Seconds later he felt the ground rumble. Without keying his radio he shouted.

"INBOUND"

Even as he said that he went flat on the roof, pulling one of the McLeodian men who was fiddling with his helmet with him.


<J City, USIH>

The night had just begun in the USIH, twilight was over the city as a police motorbike came riding through the centre of the main road into town from the airport. Its lights and sirens were on, as it sped through clearing the road followed by two police cars.
Several people out on balconies and roof's enjoying the warm evening air watched the vehicles hurtle past, doing close to 90mph as they sped through the city.
As soon as these had passed and the sirens began to fade they could hear more coming.
Some peered over balconies and looked up the road, and saw a sight rarely seen on the streets of the capital.

Two more police motorbikes were riding side by side, followed by four large Black Chevy Suburbans. Following these, still in tight convoy doing about the same speed as the earlier vehicles came three black limousines followed by several more Chevy's.

In the first limo were some of the most important people in the country. President James Anderson was sitting in the right hand chair, next to him was King Robert of the Empire of Redge. Opposite them were the Chairman of the USIH Joint Cheifs and the USIH Secretary of Defence.

The Secretary pulled a vibrating mobile phone out of his inside jacket pocket. Upon recieving a nod from the President he opened it and listened for a minute.
With a curt "Thank you" he closed the phone and returned it to his pocket.

"Mr President, our Special Forces have managed to evacuate the Queen and the rest of the royals, they are on their way to the airport and ACS air transport. The team that is staying at the royal compound has just this second reported that artillery fire is incoming."

The Chairman of the Joint Cheifs looked at the President and said

"Sir the Darkstar will be up and operating within three hours. The Special Forces have a recieving station their and they can see but not control the drone. They can cross link their feed to McLeodian commanders who can get it to where its needed, assuming they arent comprimised."

The President looked uneasy at that last comment, and so did the King, however they did nothing but silently think to themselves for the rest of the fast drive to the New White Houe.

Bump?

<ABRAXAS Squad One>

The rumbling of the rebel artillery betrayed their positions as they sent seismic signals out through the ground. By using simple time-based triangulation of the data from the ground sensor array, Squad One was able to pinpoint where each artillery unit had set down to commence attack.

Their secure NIRTSAT network uploaded the enemy artillery positions, transmitted by burst comms, and began disseminating the information to allied commanders.

In the cacophony, Squad One prepared for the signal to counterattack.

<Tiamat Battle Group>

The recon data from ABRAXAS Squad One gave the battlefield management AI accuracy down to the meter. Within a minute, the AI had calculated flight paths for all two hundred sea-launched Wolverines spun up in the Neptune-class submarines' VLS cells.

These were armed with hyperbaric warheads designed to incinerate personnel and ammunition by sucking up the oxygen in the immediate area (~50 foot radius) and then flash burning it.

While best suited for penetrating and burning up the insides of buildings without outright destroying them, these high-temperature explosives could easily make short work of fuel lines, artillery and tank ammunition, and unprotected men in the blast radius.

Only moments after the targeting solutions were input to the missiles, the Neptunes fired the Wolverines off to stream towards the Morrison line.

<KT Flight One>

Nothing new to report.

<KT Flight Two>

Homing in on the remains of the McLeodian command post, the C-131 switched to VTOL mode and set down on a relatively clear tarmac. The crew opened up the cargo gates and lowered the stairs, waiting somewhat impatiently; as the drone fighters maintained patrol overhead.

<KT Flight Three>

Nothing new to report.

<Wraith Flight>

Nothing new to report. Continuing ABM patrol.

<The Leviathan>

"Bam, it looks like we're going to have to answer to the King for that move," Captain Dacani mused.

"Along with the Secretary-General, Captain. We have been given orders to contact his office immediately once the rebel threat has been neutralized," the ever-calm AI responded.

"We just destroyed several hundred million dollars worth of McLeodian state property, Bam. I'm sure it was necessary to blind the rebels, but human leaders prefer a bit more oversight," Dacani said.

The battle management AI was doing its job - as was Captain Dacani by implementing its recommendations. But Dacani wondered if maybe he had gone too far, if he depended on Bam too much.

Fortunately, given the Lev's classification as a special naval operations vessel and the clearly established rules of engagement, no one would likely get in any sort of formal trouble... but Dacani certainly expected to get an earful from the Sec-Gen when this was all over. The State Department was not likely to be pleased; nor would the Foreign Military Aid Program which would end up paying to replace the Royal NIRTSATs.

OOC: Bump.

<The Leviathan>

With the McLeodian NIRTSATs down and the debris fields mostly clear, the Leviathan launches six of its own NIRTSATs to replace the destroyed network. These NIRTSATs are encrypted so that only the Royal commanders with the provided access codes can use them with correct data. However, they are also programmed to begin transmitting false data over the transmission frequencies the rebels were known to be using. Royal commanders are privately warned when given the correct codes not to use their old feeds.

<J City, USIH>

The police escort had left them as soon as the motorcade pulled into the New White House grounds.

As they sped towards the main enterance at the front of the main building the Secret Service agents there reported everything was ok and that it was clear to proceed.

In the vehicles the Agents relaxed slightly, now knowing that there was a company of Marines with full battle gear on duty at the New White House, as would always happen if the country was at war, they would maintain a perimeter in the spacious grounds, nearly 25 acres, in the middle of the capital city. The government had been offered nearly 1 billion dollars for it from a group of leading realestate agents, which had been duly refused by the President's order.

That same man sat in the first of three limo's as the motorcade came in sight of the white building as the tree cover retreated towards the night.

The first of the Chevy Suburbans drove through the main enterance area, followed by three more, the last coming to halt under the Presidential Balcony that led out from the Oval Office.
As soon as they stopped the doors opened and Secret Service agents alighted and quickly moved to their normal positions covering all points of the three strech limo's that had pulled in behind them whilst Agents from the following Chevy's secured that end, as needless as it may have been as there was nobody around, bar several marines with their M16A2 Assualt rifles standing watch at the inner perimeter gate.

As soon as the limo's stopped the agent who had been travelling in the front with the driver quickly got out and upon hearing the all clear through his earpiece opened the doors to allow the VIP's inside to exit.

The President and King Robert exited their car first and moved up the White House stairs as Agents from both security details followed them.

The President led the way to one of the many guest rooms after a short spell in the elevator, and after making sure his guest was comfortable he returned to the Oval Office. Waiting for him were the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, the Secretaries of Defence, State, and War and the White House Chief of Staff.

After a brief dialogue the Chief of Staff left the room and went to the situation room. There he called up Lt.General Franks commanding VII Corps and gave him the order to get his command ready for movement within the week.

After that he rang the commanders of several Air Force Bases throughout the country and simply spoke the word "Authorized" down the satellite phone link.


<Nieto Air Force Base, 50 miles South of J City>

The big black shapes of aircraft of the 42nd "Black Cresent" Strategic Bombing Wing emerged from their underground hangars and slowly taxied towards the runway, their giant engines mearly turning over. They saw Air Force One, along with a spare 747 on the other side of the base as they came to the end of the taxiway.

One by one the B-6C bombers reached the end of the runway and turned, taking off one after the other with 30 second breaks.

In the air they began to form up into three-plane elements and turned East towards McLeod, it was to be a boring seven hour flight to the refueling aircraft and then another six hours to the target, meaning for once that they would be striking in daylight, albeit through what the weathermen had said would be thick cloud at 20,000 feet. But then again going at Mach 3 they were highly likely to outrun any missile that was launched after them, at least from the ground.


<Royal Residence McLeod>

On the roof Sgt. Smith was again looking through his binoculars, periodically chaning between them and his M21's night scope as he swept the area for any signs of enemy activity. So far all he had seen were more falling artillery rounds, and a near miss on one of the forward positions.

< McLeod Coast >

The cruiser Forsythe along with the destroyers Richard and Matthew cuised along the coast. Arriving in position near one of McLeod's biggest ports only minutes before the commander, Captain Roberts was under strict orders to make contact with the local commander, after having gotten Admiralty clearance that it was indeed a friendly. Until that time he was to continue patroling the waters 22miles away from the harbour, making his presence known by using all three SPY radars on the vessels. His ROE were to return fire only, unless the safety of his command was in jepordy upon which he was allowed to use all necessary force to protect the 3 ships under his command.


<Carriers Saratoga and Freedom somwhere in the North Atlantic Ocean.>

"Admiral we are three days from our rendevous with the Forsythe group. We have increased air operations and the standard patrol over the carriers is now two Hummers (E2-C Hawkeye) with six F-22's and a pair of Queers (Prowler AEW aircraft to jam oncoming missiles). We have another Hummer and five F-22s on the catapults ready to go on five minute notice. We are currently still recieveing KC-130 tanker support from Howerd Air Force Base in Abrams, and so ive been giving most of the Queer's crews a rest. From tomorrow we start giving air cover to the Army convoy en route to McLeod, at first a pair of Hummers and 4 F-22's, increasing the nearer to the coast we get. After the reports of attacks on the NH carrier we aren't gonna take any chances." Reported the Carrier Air Group Commander to the Admiral Jack Benson commanding Task Force 7 as the force was now called.

"Thanks Tom" replied the Captain of the Saratoga on the Admirals behalf, who was now deep in thought.

OOC: Sorry guys, again with the OOC thing. Couldn't find energy / time to write a decent post up till now.

IC:

<Gold Squad, five miles north of Valley Ambush site>

The eight men of the 22nd regiment were crashing quickly through the undergrowth. They had ditched everything but their weapons and communications systems, and were trying to help one wounded man get away from the handful of pursuing Morrison troops. The team leader, Sergeant Francis Jackson, was desperately trying to raise an evacuation for his team before they were caught.

"All friendly units, this is Two-Two-Gold, all friendly units this is Two-Two-Gold. Need immediate extraction, LZ will be hot, repeat, we need immediate extraction, LZ will be hot"


<Royal Residence>

The shells began to rain down on the allied positions, spotted by the OH-6s. With deadly precision, two of the emplaced weapons were destroyed, and several men huddled aorund them were scythed down by shrapnel. The screams of the wounded filled the night, occassionally drown out by the exploding of artillery shells.

Then, as if the field in front of the positions had come alive, the Morrison armour arrived. The front row of tanks opened fire with their 105-mm cannon, lobbing shells at random into the closest trenches, before most were silenced by a volley of Brimstone missiles. Despite the death of the first tanks, hundreds more stormed past, firing incessantly, shielding the APCs until they could get close enough to deploy their troops.

As the first infantry began to leap from the Bradleys, the barrage of hypobaric Wolverines hit, vapourising hundreds of men, and causing massive secondary explosions amongst the open APCs and tanks where they hit. Fires burned across the field, casting an eerie orange glow over the battle raging below. The battle for McLeod03 had reached a new, far more bloody level.


<MAFCCP>

As the VTOL transport touched to the ground, a crowd of survivors with some of the injured guards covering them rushed towards the open ramp, hoping to get away from the area as quickly as possible. Mostly civilians, the group were essential to the continuation of the McLeodian line, ranging from economic experts and advisors to secretaries and surviving ministers.


<Port Talbot, Morrison controlled port in northern McLeod03>

Four dark painted Pegasus class patrol boats swept out of the harbor before heading south towards the Forsythe battle group. Each had a light 3" gun and eight Harpoon missiles on board, and was runnign without active radar and without lights. Their captains were relying heavily on manual navigation to let them sneak close enough to the cruisers to launch their missiles in the first naval action of the civil war.

<ABRAXAS Squad One>

With the battle now joined and the Wolverine strike complete, the members of Squad One moved out to make the best use of their mobility, stealth, and firepower.

The Squad Leader triggered the remotely-controlled anti-tank guided missile launcher "mines" that had remained dormant as the rebel forces passed by, which immediately launched twenty ATGMs at the rear echelon of artillery and support vehicles. Ten were armed with tactical plasma-yield warheads, the other ten with hyperbaric warheads. The plasma-yield missiles were tasked to hit howitzers, while the hyperbaric rockets were aimed at ammunition trucks and fuel vehicles.

In the ensuing fires and chaos, ABRAXAS Squad One split into two fireteams and began to move around towards the Morrison right and left flanks.

<KT Flight Three>

Sergeant Jackson's distress call was easy to pick up as the Flight had moved into position to respond to such an emergency. The pilot called out, "This is going to be an airborne EVAC in hover mode! Get ready to lay cover fire on the ground while the drones draw fire!"

The C-131 and its compliment of fighter drones then sped towards Jackson's location to render the much-needed aid. The drones themselves began downloading NIRTSAT tactical information on the rebels nearest Jackson's squad and jointly formulating an attack plan to keep the C-131 safe while it extracted the McLeodians.

<Royal Residence>

"Damn, those OH-6's must be here as well." muttered the radio operator as yet more shells screemed into the house. They had seen the satellite footage of a morrison attack on a loyalist roadblock and assumed the same tactics were being used here.

"Sir didnt we put some stingers in the back of one of the Hummers?" he continued

"Dammit I forgot about them. Joe, Tom come with me."

The three men raced down the stairs towards the garage, passing some loyalist troops who mustve thought they were fleeing. With a commanding voice Colonel Dickson ordered them to follow him to help bring up the stingers.

Luckily the Special Forces were trained in their operation and they only had two launchers but ten missiles.

They went back up the stairs, carrying packing crates between them whilst the Colonel led the way with one of the launchers over his shoulder, already testing the thermal viewer and flipping the cap off of the sight. At the same time he was keying up the radio.

"Smith, report"

On the roof Sgt Smith fired off another LAW at an APC that had got too close to the first line of defences and keyed his radio as he watched the missile arch towards the tracked vehicle.


"Sir we have multiple contacts going here, ive counted at least 20 knocked out tanks with at least triple that still coming. Infantry attack approximately Regimental strength from what ive seen so far"

he fired two rounds from his M21 at a commander about 3/4 mile away who had popped his head out of his tank turret to survey the battle

"Forward defences are in danger of being over run, I can see some men pulling back to the secondary line".

He turned his weapon and fired again, this time at a dismounted infantry man who had sent a stream of tracer bullets flying towards a missile crew feverishly reloading their weapon. The sound of battle was immense and he had to press his earpiece into his ear to be able to hear the Colonels reply. Next to him the MG crew began to change belts and some of the immeadiate noise dropped.

"Roger that. When your position become undefendable pull back inside the house with the men there. Whats your ammo status?" came the Colonel's reply.

"Im ok Sir. Ive fired off all but two of the LAW's and only two mags of M21 ammo."

"Roger that Smith." replied the Colonel as he removed his hand from the neckband that held the personal radioswitch. By the time they had finished they had made their way to one of the doors that was claymored, and another of the team joined them. The colonel and Staff Sgt. Tom Appleton raised the Stingers onto their shoulders, and upon them being loaded by the other two they flipped the safety's off and began moving the sights around the cool nights sky.
After a few seconds the Colonel squinted at his eye piece and said

"Got one. Locked on. Preparing to fire."

As he squeezed the trigger the missile lept from its launcher, leaving a small fire trail as it accelerated towards the helicopter.

Seconds later the same was repeated by the other launcher as the crews started the reload procedure and two missile streaked towards two seperate targets.

<Southland Airport>

The convoy guarding the Royals sped through the gates, the guards still alert. They were guided by another Hummer brought in by the airforce that was crewed by some of the private security men. This took them to the massive shape of the ACS aircraft that had been sent to evac them. As the security detail fanned out to cover the royals exit the Major approached the queens vehicle, his M4 tight against his bodyarmour with his finger on the trigger guard.
As the queen got out of the car he approached her and spoke.

"Well Ma'am if its ok we are gonna head on back now, our guys could do with some help back there. Pleasure meeting you."


<Forsythe Battle Group>

"Captain" the voice of the lead radar operator was heard through the CIC of the Ticongeroga class cruiser.

"Sir, I swear we just had a contact coming out of the harbour. It was there one minute and gone the next."

"Are you sure?" replied the Captin, slightly sceptical at the thought of a stealth ship.

"Bet my life on it Sir." the operator replied "Perkins saw it as well Sir."

"Ok." he turned to the Chief petty officer "Battle Stations chief"

The klaxon sounded and across the ship, sailors who had been enjoying there hour off ran to their positions.

Captain Roberts continued "Inform Matthew and Richard to execute split delta, and send two of the Helo's that way to investigate it.


The two Spruance Class Destroyers which had been about 200yards on each side of the Cruiser turned hard outwards, and only settled when they were 1000yards on either direction, on roughly the same course North West. The SPY-1 multi purpose phased array radar on the Forsythe was now operating at optimum performance, and so were the similar radars on the destroyers. All three of the ships used variations of the AEGIS system and they were now in direct contact with each other via satellite so that each ship could see the others radar picture.

On deck the Sailors popped the tops off of the Harpoon Quad launchers on the ships and the SM-2 SAM launchers swivelled about to once again test their joints, live missiles on the rails. All the CIWS systems came online and the six-barreled chainguns were electronically cocked.

From the deck of the Matthew one of its Seahawk helicopters took off to join the helicopter from the Forsythe that was already airbourne and heading for the harbour area. Onboard the crew used nightvision equipment whilst gunners cocked the M60E3 GPMG's that were mounted on either side of each helicopter and the weapons operator check the status of the Mark46 torpedo that each carried. When they were happy that they were ok they used the intercom to inform the pilots.

Back on the ships the crew at the radar screens watched the blips move towards land as the Battle Group Commander, Captain Roberts looked at the large flat panel screen that showed all the radars "take" combined into one screen for the commanders ease of viewing.

“Ready Harpoons for snap shot.” he said to the weapons officer who was sitting by the console showing weapons status, all of which was now a friendly green, below a row of red lights depicted that the safety’s were off.

“Inform the 3inch to load and prepare to fire.”

Forward the three man team loaded a shell into the breech and flicked off the manual safety and reported the cannons readiness.

“Prepare countermeasures.”

Cans of Chaff and flares were already in their launching tubes

On the other ships the same orders were given as commanders stared nervously at the screens hoping not to see the dreaded missile headed for their ships.

OOC: McLeod, take as long as you want replying :) it dont matter too much to us, after all its only a game!

OOC: Bump, cause you know you wanna!

<New Alexandria Aerospace Forces Base>

Eight C-88Q Advanced Strategic Transports sat on the tarmac at New Alexandria AFB. The C-88Q was a special redesign incorporating the new Quantum Nucleonic Reactor engines for dramatically extended range and its cargo spaces had been augmented to carry 24 M-89 'Turtle' Bipedal Combat Units in quick-launch ejector slides.

Another six EB-7 "Vampire" Airborne Escort Battleships also sat on the tarmac, fueled and ready to go. The Vampires were the defensive screen for the C-88s as they had the range, payload, and air-to-air capability that a standard fighter deploying from the base just wouldn't have.

The plan was to take-off from New Alexandria, fly overnight to the McLeodian theater, airdrop the 192 M-89 'Turtles' from the Ground Forces' 32nd Expeditionary Bipedal Force, and then head back home. From there, the 32nd EBF would aid the ABRAXAS Squad in blunting the Morrison advance. At least, that was the plan.

Once the soldiers of the 32nd were all in place -- most of them resting with the second flight crews in the upper deck -- and flight clearance was given, this small air fleet took to the skies with all haste and intent on making their drop window.

OOC: Bump.

OOC: Unfortunately I am off on holiday on saturday for a week and i will be unable to use the net. Dunno if you guys wanna hold or keep going?

OOC: Might be best to hold for a while. Things have taken an unexpected turn for the worse, so i'm gonna be back at the hospital daily for a week or so, and won't be able to get on for ten days (ish).

OOC: We can hold, then. RL comes first.

OOC: Just to keep it alive til McLeod is able.

Im back from hol now so when Mcleod's ready :). Bump.

OOC: Buy submarines! Bump.

http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=350040

OOC: Keeping the scene alive!

OOC: Back guys, expect a good post in a few hours. Disappointed at lack of further interest, but we can keep this going.

OOC: Where do we stand McLeod? You kinda left for vacation there and it was up in the air so I never bothered posting again (bad forum I realize but I wasn't sure how long you were gone)

OOC: I'm ready to go when you guys are. I posted a while back the preparatory stages of my next actions.

OOC: OK NH and all, here is a summary of war so far

Loyalist forces are defending the last major airfield in the country from a huge Morrison armoured assault. The Morrison column is currently engaged with heavily dug in forces around the Royal Residence north of the airfield. ACS and IH both have small SpecOps units engaged in the battle, with ACS aerial assets covering the battlefield and patrolling for any loyalist units stranded across the battlefield.

The Morrisons are almost entirely committed in this battle, with a small naval task force heading towards a few IH ships, and as of yet, no major aerial engagement after the disastrous attack on NH's CBG. Total amount of equipment under their control is unknown, so be advised there may be further heavy attacks by air unless we can spare the troops to counter-attack and take the Morrison held airfields.

The PFM is doing nothing major, other than attempting to gain further support both in country and out. In other words, they are still there, still a threat, but not doing anything. Yet.


IC:

<Royal Residence, 22:33pm>

The battle intensified as Morrison infantry somehow took the first line of trenches, giving them access to the entire trench network. Now the fighting was bitter CQB and even hand-to-hand, with knives and even traditional claymore swords swinging wildly. The Morrison armour was now fully committed, thousands of tanks moving to outflank the defenses, smashing through forests and fields either side of the house.

The OH-6s, as soon as they were spotted, died. Stinger and Rattlesnake missiles from the ground troops tore them apart. In seconds, the Morrison artillery had no spotters, so for now, they ceased fire. It would be their last part in the battle, and indeed, the entire war. Twelve EA/B-5 attack aircraft tore over the artillery positions, releasing two cluster bomb units each, spreading thousands of grenade size bomblets over the area. The initial explosions were huge enough, but the explosion of the AAA, SAM, and artillery units and their massive ammunition stockpiles was even greater. The boom could be heard nearly thirty miles away on the battlefield, but everyone was too busy to notice.

The other three squadrons of EA/B-5s announced their arrival with the deaths of hundreds of armoured vehicles attempting to outflank the house. They then re-attacked, and tore over the as yet unengaged reserve forces at the rear of the battle, strafing with 35-mm cannon fire, ripping apart trucks and APCs like a hot knife through butter.


<Pegasus strike group, 37 miles north of Forsythe>

Without warning, the ships went radar active, found their targets to the south, and launched. Inside of two minutes, thirty-two Harpoon missiles were streaking towards the three ships, and the Pegasus ships had shut down their radars.


<Morrison Held airfield, twenty miles east of Port Talbot>

Ten large, dark painted shapes began to roll out of the hangars of the base. They were the pinnacle of the Morrison airforce, and feared by the McLeods. As yet, they had kept quiet stories of a captured EB-1C squadron, but soon, they would have little choice. The big advanced bombers rolled out, and slowly they began to take off before forming into a strike group, and heading rapidly south towards the Royal Residence.


<Two-Two-Gold Squad>

The men raced towards a clearing nearby, just big enough for the ACS transport to land in. Arriving, they deployed around the injured man, shielding him, and trained their weapons outwards, towards the incoming rebel infantry.

<Royal Residence battlefield>

Smoke from burning tanks and defensive positions virtually obscured vision beyond twenty metres or so, adding to the fear of the battle, as men fought an died in vicious close quarter fighting. Bodies lay scattered across the field, and the occasional tank shell would slam into the house, collapsing large parts of the ancient building. Bullets spanged off ruined vehicles or made wet thumping noises as the hit the ground or even bodies. Moans and screams occasionally lifted above the sounds of gunfire and close-combat fighting.

Another wave of Morrison infantry swarmed into the trenches, the defenders whittled down to a few hardened yet tired veterans, slowly falling back towards the house under heavy fire. Ten fell, caught by machine gun fire from inside the house, before they made it into the trenches and relative safety. Even then, a McLeodian soldier killed twelve more with grenades as they huddled behind a wrecked T-98.

Further back along the Morrison column, the remaining APCs began to veer east to try and out flank the house and attack from the rear. At the lead was James Morrison, brother of William Morrison, the clan chief. Behind him lay a hundred fresh APCs, and nearly a thousand men. They swept through two fields before making their turn south, and slamming through a hedgerow into yet another large open field. James's eye was caught by a flash of light of the his left, in a copse at the top of a slight hill. Thinking nothing of it, he turned back, leaning on the machine gun in the commanders turret atop the vehicle.


<900 yards east of APC group>

Colonel Harry Firth, commander of the Fort Inverness tank division, lowered his binoculars and ducked back inside the tank. "All Sword units, check ranges and prepare to fire on my order" he said into the tactical comm-link.

Each of the seventy tanks in the front row of the armoured column fired a low-powered laser range-finder at the APCs, checking final ranges, then took readings of wind speed, elevation, and numerous other factors into account before displaying a target-lead indicator for the Morrison APCs down the slope. Gunners made final adjustments to their turrets, and awaited the command.


<Lead Morrison APC>

The crude threat detectors, capable of detecting incoming lasers like those used on range finders, suddenly leapt into action. Being a basic model, it gave no indication of direction, only that there was a threat nearby. James Morrison knew he was dead. He'd made a major error, and it was going ot cost him his life. He was still cursing himself when a green flare arched up from the copse, and the first volley of tank shells ripped apart the lightly armoured APCs, shortly followed by a second. There were no survivors, there was no time for any warning.


<Sword group>

The tanks charged out of the copse, machine guns firing into the wrecked APCs, just in case any soldiers had miraculously survived, before following the APCs route back towards the rear of the Morrison positions.

<IHS Forsythe>

"Vampire, vampire, vampire" The dreaded words where shouted across all three CIC's almost simaltaniously.

On Forsythe Captain Roberts ordered a snap shoot of 4 harpoons and then flicked the switch putting the AEGIS system into automatic. On the two destroyers the same thing happened.

The Powerful computer/radar system immeadiately indentified the incoming missiles and assigned them as hostile with a priority of destruction. The computer had a link with the ones aboard Matthew and Richard and was assigning each incoming missile one from each ship.

On Forsythe the twin launchers on the front and rear of the ship swivelled and pointed into the dark sky, whislt on the two destroyers the VLS tubes that contained the SM-2's opened their doors.

The Ticonderoga cruiser launched first, a quartet of missiles being fired leaving a pale grey smoke behind their rocket motors. They had only just left the launching rails when they went vertical and swiveled to recieve the reloads. The load and fire time was under eight seconds.

The two destroyers launched slightly after, missiles rippling from the launch tubes until the computer deemed the incomings too close to bother with missiles. When it did that, after 40 SM-2's had been fired in total, it turned the control of each individual ships CIWS system back to that ships onboard computer.

The missiles were still guided by the radar and when they were 150yards infront of the incoming harpoons the warheads detonated. The AEGIS system did well, accounting for 70% of the missiles, however that still left ten incoming missiles for the point defence systems to deal with.

The powerful active jamming systems came online, sending another two missiles off in another direction, and the ships began firing off clouds of chaff rockets through which all but one of the rockets bore through mercilessly

While this was happening in the CIC of Forsythe some of the radar crew were still tracking the four harpoons that they had launched plus communicating with the helo's that were now only 10 miles from the supposed launch site.

As the missiles approached two thousand yards away from the ships, the CIWS mounts that had been tracking them for double that time began firing with the noise of an enourmous zipper. Their own radar systems tracking the incoming target plus the outgoing slugs, adjusting to make the two meet.

The first missile exploded 400yards from Matthew, showering the destroyer in fragments that scythed through half a dozen exposed crew men, and wrecked the rear CIWS mount's radar making it next to useless. The second targeted at the destroyer exploded above it, most of the fragments thankfully going into the sea on either side of the vessel that was travelling at 40knots.

Richard was not so lucky, one of the missiles targetted at the destroyer hit just behind the rear radar array on the superstructure, starting a large fire that damage control parties rushed to extinguish.

On Forsythe they had three missiles targetted at them, the first two were hit by the CIWS, and the last one was hit a scant 100yards from the superstructure, the missile body continuing on and setting some parts of the ship afire.


The radar operaters felt the impact of the missile hits on the various ships but continued to work, guiding the harpoons towards the area that the launch came from.

Captain Roberts, after sending additional damage control parties to the damaged part of his ship ordered an additional 4 harpoons to be fired and ordered that the Tomahawks be prepared for launch at the port facilities.

He picked up the phone and communicated with the two destroyers, and ordered Matthew to fire off her full Tomahawk loadout at the co-ordinates that were crossloaded from the cruiser.

On Richard the damage control effort continued, the hull still intact and the engines still pushing the ship along at 40knots as the hulls of the other ships lit up as Tomahawks and Harpoons left the VLS cells on either side of the vessels.

Upon ordering the strike Captain Roberts drafted a message to the Defence Department and had it sent off, informing them of his fire mission against the port, which now appeared to be in enemy hands.

OOC: Hope you dont mind me talking about the missiles like that, if you want i can change it. I'll post about the Residence a bit later on.

OOC: Not at all. Harpoons are too slow for my liking, but i could hardly attack you with Wolverines. Wouldn't want to sink all three ships. Be too harsh.

IC:

<Pegasus strike group>

The group began to head rapidly north, when ground based radar reported helicopters to the south. THe four began a slow turn inland, taking them on a course perpendicular to that of the helicopters. As one, they began to open fire with their 3" guns, using infra-red sights to try and guide the fire more effectively.

The Harpoon missiles arrived without warning, sinking one ship almost instantly, and crippling another. The other two began to head closer to the helicopters, seeking them out with active radar pulses. In the far distance, the Tomahawks caused massive destruction amongst the port facilities, destroying two further unloaded Pegasus, and badly crippling a rebel Astute class SSN.

Four of the captured F/A-39 Vipers began an attack run on the IH vessels, each armed with two MASRAAMs, two Python anti-radiation missiles, and a single 2000lb laser-guided bomb.

<ABRAXAS Squad One>

In the confusion of the pitched battle, both the McLeodians and the Morrisons seemed to have not noticed the mechanized ABRAXAS units moving in from the rear - which was exactly as they wanted it. While the first fireteam closed in on the main reserve force from the west, the second fireteam set up firing positions that formed a perfect pincer with the oncoming Sword tank group... all thanks to their nearly-live NIRTSAT data.

The fireteam leader whispered into his mic, "Make a hole, gentlemen."

With that command, the heavy weapons of the second fireteam each launched two thermobaric rockets towards the infantry line that the Swords were approaching - hoping to both open up a gap for the Royal forces and create the impression that the attack was coming from a different direction. Their sniper began firing his anti-materiel coilgun rifle at any APC or tank he could see with two or more antenna: command & communications vehicles.

<KT Flight Three>

The C-131 set down in the clearing as its drone escorts buzzed overhead. The side hatch opened and the loadmaster called for the McLeodians to get on board.

<KT Flight Two>

The C-131 loaded up as many people as it could and then began its evac route towards the Leviathan.

<KT Flight One>

(OOC: What is the status of the Queen and her daughters now?)

<Wraith Flight>

The EB-1Cs were formidable aircraft in their own right, yet the heat plumes from their engines were more than visible against the cool night air from the ever-watchful eyes of the NIRTSATs. The Morrisons had pulled out their trump card, but Wraith Flight was waiting for them.

The unmanned strategic airborne escort battleships immediately broke into an evasive pattern intended to confuse any Morrison watchers, but intent on closing the distance to intercept those EB-1s. Nor were they taking any chances, each Wraith had two plasma-yield ABM interceptors armed and ready. While designed to take down ballistic missiles, the advanced weapons could make short work of an aircraft squadron.

<The skies over Southland>

With as yet no challenge to their air superiority, the C-88Qs and their escorts entered the theater. The EB-7 "Vampire" airborne escort battleships flew a few miles ahead of the transports to keep their path clear. Their second objective was to prepare a landing zone for the paradrop. To accomplish that, the six Vampires each launched eight rocket-propelled thermite bombs. The thermite bombs rained down on the southern flank of the Morrison forces in two clusters of three by eight.

<Vampire flight, 102 miles north of Royal Residence>

"Command, we are now in range. 10 seconds from launch" reported the flight leader, before switching to short-range communication and adding "Vampire flight, spread out and prepare to fire on my command"

The ten bombers spread across a wide front before the order was given. Each aircraft motored open its huge bomb bay doors, and dropped four Python hypersonic anti-radiation missiles and twelve Wolverine Cruise missiles each. From this range, it would take the 160 missiles between thirty minutes and an hour to reach their target - Southland airport.

Their payload gone, the bombers turned tail and fled north, towards the cover of Morrison held air defence systems.


<Port Talbot>

Amongst the flames and destruction of the docks and warehouses, a few surviving rebels cheered as the four stealthy F/A-39s raced overhead, heading towards the IH fleet.


<Sword Group>

Firth looked on as huge explosions rocked the Morrison infantry, throwing bodies this way and that, or simply vaporising them completely. Then his tanks were in range, and the real attack began. They smashed through the outer line of APCs and light tanks before sweeping round and destroying almost 75% of the fuel and ammunition trucks at the rear of the convoy. That done, and still firing without many losses, they began to sweep south, trapping the Morrison tanks completely.

He looked across in time to see a command APC explode, throwing the man who had been standing behind it across the field into an artillery crater. Shrugging, he turned south again and saw his targets ahead of him.


<Morrison Command/Logistics laager>

William Morrison could barely move. The explosion of the APCs fuel tanks had knocked the air out of his lungs and slammed him into the grund hard. It felt like he had broken at least one of his legs, numerous ribs, and his only good arm. He could only watch the destruction of his forces in a perfect pincer movement by an inferior force. Then he saw nothing, and the world went black.


<Gold-gold-two>

The men raced towards the open door, dragging the wounded commando between them. As the last man leapt in, he was caught by heavy rifle fire, and he crumpled, barely feet from safety. The rebels had arrived, and opened fire on the transport with everything they had. Predominantly small arms fire, one of the rebels had a heavy .50 calibre machine gun which he was trying to set up.


OOC: Next section optional for modern tech nations, this is my post modern stuff. Just thought ACS might like trying to stop a fully crewed Nightingale class. No ones ever managed it yet.


<PFM held coastline, 117 miles due west of Atlantica Prime SUBFOR HQ>

Nearly two hundred men and pilots, some released from SUBFOR when the fourth Nightingale was cancelled, lined up along the beach. Each wore full body armour, and carried an assortment of weaponry. In front of them lay a selection of small boats, barely detectable on radar or sonar. Their mission was simple, capture the Tiberus as she sat awaiting a crew.

Twenty minutes later, the boats slipped into the choppy seas, and began to head towards the large installation, each man dealing with his fear in a different way. Some smoked cigarettes, some prayed, some sat silently, until one man, Captain Kevin Horner, who was to be captain of the fourth Nightingale, started up a song, barely audible, but instantly recognisable.

Men of Harlech stop your dreaming
Can't you see their spear points gleaming
See their warrior's pennants streaming
To this battle field

Men of Harlech stand ye steady
It cannot be ever said ye
For the battle were not ready
Stand and never yield

Men of Harlech onto glory
This shall ever be your story
Keep these fighting words before ye
Cambria shall not yield

EDIT: OOC: Didnt know they were stealth aircraft i will change if you want. Also ACS i dropped the queen off at the airport on about page 5 i think.
<Forsythe Group>

The operators had just watched two of the Harpoons disappear off the track whilst the others had started to run out of fuel, their seeker's still on but altitude dropping slowly. The display still showed the two helo's, but they were moving around a lot more. The reason for this became apparent several seconds later.

"Pad One, Pad One this is Pegasus-three, we are taking fire from unknown gunboats. We are heavily outgunned we are turning back."

In the background they could hear the noise of explosions and closer that of machine guns firing almost constantly. However another problem diverted the Captains attention before he could say ok.

"Captain Sir, radar is picking up four boggies, inbound course 100 miles out. Computer is classifying them as F/A-39 attack aircraft." read out the operator, watching his screen intently as he spoke.

Captain Roberts moved back to his seat infront of one of the massive glass panel screens in the air-conditioned room. As he moved he asked

"Hostile?"

"Yes Sir. Computer says so, attack profile is that they are weapons loaded."

"Ok." he flicked the switch again and the computer went into automatic mode.


Outside the launchers pivoted and fired another quartet of missiles into the sky. Once again going vertical and recieveing their reloads before launching again.

OOC: Not stealth, stealthy. But with a huge payload like they currently have, you'll easily spot 'em at a hundred miles.


<Falcon flight of four F/A-39s>

As soon as they were detected, the pilots accelerated to nearly Mach 2 before releasing their Python missiles. Each of the hypersonic version of the outdated HARM missile was capable of loitering over a target for up to half an hour until it reactivates, and carried a devastating 300lb high-explosive fragmentation warhead. Eight missiles raced towards the AEGIS cruiser and her escorts, homing in on any active transmissions. The Vipers closed in, arming their 2000lb bombs in preparation for the attack.

<Wraith Flight>

The AIs had hoped to intercept the bombers before they released their payloads, but sometimes things don't go according to hopes and wishes. The moment the Morrison bombers released their weapons, the Wraiths each fired two of their plasma-yield interceptor missiles on a collision course. Hopefully, the virtual plasma wall created by the four interceptors would be enough to vaporize the cruise missiles.

The Wraiths also designated an additional four hypervelocity AAMs to chase after the bombers, themselves. The wide turns, open bay doors, and hot-burning engines now pointed in their direction should have provided the all-aspect missiles plenty of target.

<ABRAXAS Squad>

As the Royal forces continued their rout of the Morrison line, the ABRAXAS units sniped their way around towards the west until they had a clear view of the landing zone for their incoming brethren. Their job now was to keep that LZ clear so the Turtles could drop in.

<32nd Expeditional Bipedal Force>

The 192 'Turtles' slipped from their carrier aircraft in groups of two from each aircraft into the night sky and hurtled towards the ground for a few moments before their paraglider packs burst open. The bipedal units own nonsapient AI systems controlled their descent and identified targets of opportunity as they approached the landing zone. Each one aimed to hit the ground running and coilgun rifles blazing.

To help the 32nd in their landing, the EB-7 Vampire bombers circled around to drop magnesium flares over the enemy formation. The theory being: It's hard to aim at landing paratroopers if you can't see them.

<KT Flight Three>

The loadmaster provided cover fire with his own carbine as best as he could, but it was the drones that saved the day. Swooping down in cross-patterns of two, the drone fighters laid into the rebel forces with their coilguns - each firing High Explosive rounds originally designed to shred aircraft armor.

The C-131, engines still running hot, then tried to pull up and away from the landing zone... the pilots hoping that the drones would get the machine gunner before he got them.

<KT Flight One>

With the royal family and as many other people loaded on board as possible, the pilots ordered the loadmaster to close up and lock down. KT Flight Blue, according to its new designation, was bugging out. Blue's escort drones powered up also and took to the air first.

OOC: High-speed undersea warfare? You know I'm interested... let's see if they can break the sub out, first, though. :)

OOC: Thought you might have been.

IC:

<PFM Task Force Hertford>

The boats cut engines and began to drift slowly towards the station. The only access without entering the main dock area would be a well protected but lightly defended access panel on the western most leg of the huge structure. Not dissimilar to a vastly scaled up oil rig, Atlantica Prime is the result of years of construction, and is the only McLeodian shipyard capable of producing the Nightingale class battle carrier. It is also the base of the McLeodian SUBFOR, and advanced submarine combat group, capable of striking anywhere in the world within 48 hours, and sinking any known ship, including the Doujin class super dreadnought (OOC: Not tested yet, but if any readers are interested....).

Almost an hour passed before the commandos reached the leg and began scaling the leg, heading towards the access panel. After another ten minutes, the men were inside, and began the long climb down the leg to the underwater docking facilities housing the Monitor, the Tiberus and the Kain, as well as most of the ships battlegroups, currently inactive due to the civil war.


<Royal Residence, 04:17AM>

The Morrison troops were well and truly beaten. Their assault had been broken against a thin line of loyalist troops, with the aid of their valiant allies, and a lot of luck. Slowly, the survivors began to pull back, under heavy fire, until they gave up and surrendered. The long night of battle was over, and the McLeods had won. The war however, still raged on. But for the handful of McLeodian survivors, victory was theirs.

William Morrison looked on as his men were rounded up and kept under armed guard in an almost undamaged area of the house. They looked rightfully bedraggled, mud covered, and beaten. As he stared, a dark shadow swept over him. Will McLeod, the Guard Commander, stood, blood covering his face from a cut on his forehead, chest heaving, and claymore held in one hand, dripping blood onto the floor.

"William Morrison, I hearby place you under arrest on the charges of treason, inciting revolution, murder one, theft of government property, trespassing on government lands, and 97 other charges. Don't bother pleading, it won't get you anywhere. You'll be executed by the King when he gets here." he said, before two pairs of rough hands grabbed Morrison and dragged him out of the shell hole and towards the house, and certain death.


<Vampire flight>

A bluey-purple cloud enveloped most of the Wolverine missiles, but fourteen survived, and began to head directly towards the airfield. Two of the hypersonic Pythons locked onto the radars emitting from the Wraiths, the rest heading towards Southland.

Without warning, six of the ten bombers were hit by the Wraiths AAMs, and the crews had no chance of escape, the others ran faster, flying NOE towards the nearest AAA batteries.


<Gold-Gold-Two LZ>

Johnson dragged the last commando in, blood covering his hands from the mans numerous wounds, before returning fire at the rebels just as the first of the drones made its attack run. He watched in awe as rebel bodies flew everywhere in the explosions.

Just then, the .50 cal machine gun opened up, stitching a line in the ground towards the door. Johnson opened fire on the huge muzzle flash, and watched the gunner clutch his chest and fall to the ground.

OOC: The Wraiths were using NIRTSAT guidance for their weapons, as I posted earlier. They were not operating any radar to be tracked back to them.

<Wraith Flight>

Their weapons disgorged to the best of their abilities, the Wraiths cut their tactical NIRTSAT link and dropped down to only 100 feet above the hills as they made their way back towards the Leviathan to rearm. The enemy EB-1s had paid a price for their attack and that was good enough for Wraith Flight.

<KT Flight Two>

The transport carrying the survivors from the capital set down on the VTOL landing deck of the Leviathan. Once inside the hangar deck, the waiting medical personnel began treating the passengers and seeing to living arrangements.

<KT Flight Blue>

The NIRTSATs warned of incoming cruise missiles, so there was no time to waste. The fully loaded C-131 and its escorts began to depart from Southland as fast as their engines would carry them, on course for the Tiamat Battle Group.

<KT Flight Three>

With everyone on board and the rebel threat neutralized, the last C-131 took off and turned to head back out to the carrier and away from hostile airspace.

<Royal Residence>

The ABRAXAS unit soldiers disembarked from their powered armor units and began going about the Morrison soldiers, casually asking them how they were doing and where they were from. A few even passed along bottles of water and energy bars. In the meantime, the 'Turtles' of the 32nd established a secure perimeter of the site and began rounding up what could be salvaged from the Morrison assault forces.

OOC: Going to bed now. Will respond as able tonight.

OOC: My mistake. Must learn to read posts, not just skim read. Assume the two Pythons malfunctioned and crashed.


IC:

<Atlantica Prime Naval Base, Level 48 - Docking Bay Bravo, 21:30>

Black shapes flitted between stacks of cargo crates, moving in the shadows, slowly inching closer towards the forward docking tunnel.Docking Bay was one of two on the station, each capable of holding two Nightingale class battlecarriers and assorted escorts, as well as cargo, crew, and essential supplies. In a word, it was gigantic. Thousands of halogen strip lights illuminated the dark space, since sunlight would not penetrate this far under water. Large but thick plexiglass windows showed the view outside the base, with huge spotlights lighting up the sea floor, and the occasional passing marine animal.

Two guards stood chatting, backs to the cargo crates, watching over the entrance to the docking tunnel. From behind them, there was a slight cough of two Welrod pistols firing. The men hit the floor, dead instantly. At almost the same instant, the lights in the room cut out completely. By the time the emergency back-up was brought online, the commandos were onboard, and had ditched the bodies in the cold dark waters. Each man had his own task, and it took only a few minutes for the skeleton crew of the Tiberus to get ready for start up. The ship was theirs, and soon, the PFM would be able to strike true fear into the McLeodian hearts.


<Royal Residence>

Johnson watched the ABRAXAS soldiers dismount and begin to walk around, exchanging food and chatter with his troops. They had been key in the defence of this station, and indeed in turning the tide of the war. His brother had died at that first checkpoint, and soon, he would get his revenge. Johnson smiled, and turned to face back over the battlefield.

The 7.62 x 50 round struck him just above the nose, shattering cartilage and bone alike, sending fragments flying backwards into his brain, before passing through his skull and slamming into a tree behind him. Johnson crumpled, his brain barely registering a flash before he died.


<Southland Airport>

Just minutes after the last transport took off, the Python and Wolverine missiles permanently shut down Southland airport. The radar site and contol tower were hit first, followed by two of the three terminals, and most of the maintenance buildings. The last missile caused most damage however, cratering the runway with a suicidal plunge into the middle, adding its explosive payload to the destructive power of its 500lb warhead.

OOC: Unless you have something in mind for the evacuated Royals, I'll defer for you and IH to do your thing for a bit and also so you can set up the next stage.

OOC: Sorry guys ive been a bit outta the loop today, got my GCSE results. (English exams, pretty major :)) I'll post a bit later on.

<Onboard Tiberus>

"Sir. All weapons systems loaded and online. Reactor at 95%, harbour engines waiting to engage. All airlocks closed and sealed. Ship is secure for launch"

"Very good" replied Horner, sat in the Captains chair, looking over the large bridge in front of him. He had waited years for this moment, taking his first Nightingale to sea. In front of him, the dominating 3D holographic display showed an overlay of their surroundings, taken from data stored in the Tiberus's databank. ALmost every essential station was manned, and his ship was ready.

"Helm. Bring the transducers online, prepare to engage when we get clear of the station. Bring harbour engines to 100%, and take us out. Tactical, i want a full sonar picture of the area around us. Prepare starboard batteries to hit the Monitor in her dock. If we can hit the engines, she wont be able to follow us. All hands to battlestations" he continued

The large submarine began to drop quickly, engaging her huge water-jet engines as soon as they were submerged. Inside of two minutes, she had dropped away from her docking port, and was headed for the sea bed, at the bottom of the huge moonpool style docking bay. As she passed her sister ship, the famous Monitor, she released a volley of torpedos, devastating the engines of the first of the Nightingales. The fight was on.

OOC: Just typed a post only to forget to copy it and then have it deleted when it asked me to log in again grr. I'll redo it asap.

OOC: Sorry for delay

IC:

<Royal Residence>

Colonel Dickson and his squad emerged from the residence as the fighting subsided. Miraculously only two of them had been injured, Sgt Smith had a bullet through his left shoulder and one of the others had been hit by a bit of masonary, breaking his left arm.

As Colonel Dickson talked to the guard commander, standing by a load of prisoners, the Hummers that had been dispatched to the airport arrived back. However in the sky explosions signalled that the airport had been hit.

"Sir new orders came through on our return journey. We are to pack up here and move to this port on the coast, seems they have been giving the navy a headache with fast attack boats launching from it. They hit it with tomahawks but they need some people to shut it down permenantly."

"Roger that Major. Get ready we move out in five, i'll try and secure us some extra rations its gonna be a pretty long drive."

He turned back to the guard commander and made his request.


Five minutes later the Hummers rolled out of the residence, and barely missing a royal tank, headed to the main road for the trip.


<Forsythe Battle Group>

The call of "Vampire, vampire, vampire" rang out in the CIC for the second, and hopefully last, time this evening. The screen operators watched as eight blips seperated from the incoming four, and sped towards them.

In reply the ships launched 16 SM-2's and the CIWS came online again as deckcrewmen finished reloading the nearly empty magazine.

<Falcon flight>

Threat indicators immediately began blaring out loud warnings to the Viper pilots as soon as the SAM missiles lifted off the decks of the ships. Each aircraft carried a miniature MAWS anti-missile system, with a small low powered laser onboard designed to blind the seeker heads of incoming missiles once they got within close range.

The aircraft broke formation and each took a different vector away from the ships, trying to avoid their fire long enough for the high-speed Python missiles to destroy the fire-control and AEGIS radar systems, before they would re-attack with their secondary weapons, the heavy laser-guided bombs.


<Onboard the Tiberus>

Captain Horner braced himself in the high sided chair as the helmsman through the big ship into a wild turn away from the base defences. It would be a matter of seconds before they would have enough power for supercavitation.

"Conn, Sonar. We have a Hunter class directly ahead. It seems to be manouevring into our path. Suggest we come to a halt sir"

"Sonar, Conn. Roger that. Tactical, I want a full load of torpedos aimed at the mid point of that corvette." replied Horner. When he recieved acknowledgement that the tubes were loaded and guidance was set, he simply nodded.

Twelve super-cavitating torpedos lept from the bow of the vessel in staggered launches. They arrived at their target simultaneously, blowing away the small corvette, pushing it downwards and away from the Tiberus, before splitting the hull in two. Nobody on board had a chance.

Their path clear, the crew steered the Tiberus towards the rendeavous point to the north, where the rest of the crew would join them. Thousands of tiny bubbles coated the hull before the two huge rocket engines on the stern ignited, and the battlecarrier disappeared, leaving destruction and confusion behind her.

OOC: A somewhat poor-quality map of McLeod03. Bear in mind, the whole island is roughly the size of Greenland, and there are lots more cities. I knocked this up in half an hour.

IC:

Four River class patrol boats flying the PFM flag approach the TIOR ships, ready to escort them in to a nearby PFM held port. From there, transport would be available for their weapons and for the special forces to land wherever they wanted to.


OOC: If its no big deal, i'd rather RP in this thread so that i can keep everything together more:

http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=340247

The Chicago Escort started slowing down, allowing the the patrol boats to escort them, it wouldn't be turning back though... a little extra aid for the Revolution hm? Meanwhile there was chatter inside...

"Okay boys, here's the deal, try not to fuck up..." Said Sgt. Major Alexander Rasta.

A man in the corner shook his head. "Easy for you to say, you think it's that easy? We have to fight a war, against two states." Said Sgt. Major Alberto Chavez.

Alexander thwaped him, a few of the soldiers snickered. "You think you can get morale up these days..."

Alberto thwaped him back. "Not like that. Come on, we're approaching..."

Meanwhile, the Carrier stayed behind, just in case of course. You never know when somebody might be an airstrike, that's what we have those large bombers for you know. Eh... but God forbid they use it, but it's inevitable anyway...

((OOC: RP the ship landing and you getting the supplies, I'll RP the guys talking >_>))

The four ships slowed, allowing the much larger transport to move into large docking areas built with foreign aid money. Hundreds of men rushed about tying the ship alongside, and gangplanks were raised to allow the crew to disembark. Numerous buses and trucks waited to take the men onbaord the ship off to nearby accomodation.

In the meantime, the dock workers set about the ship, huge cranes unloading the cargo and moving it onto yet more trucks for transport to where it was needed.

The four ships slowed, allowing the much larger transport to move into large docking areas built with foreign aid money. Hundreds of men rushed about tying the ship alongside, and gangplanks were raised to allow the crew to disembark. Numerous buses and trucks waited to take the men onbaord the ship off to nearby accomodation.

In the meantime, the dock workers set about the ship, huge cranes unloading the cargo and moving it onto yet more trucks for transport to where it was needed.

The 40 Rosktai started to get onto the docks. Each had a ski mask worn on their face, an UZI hanging from their belt, a Colt .45 in the hoslter, and each held a TM-93A in hand. They had various roles, advisors, tactical operations, the works. But there were 4 well known men in the platoon. Alberto Chavez, Mikhail Vassiliavich, Alexander Rasta, and Johnathon Major. All of them were Sergeant Majors, each in charge of their respective squad... each different.

The squad were consisted of Sergeants, they had low ranks to make them seem like ordinary soldiers if they are drafted into the normal Army. It was a nice guise. Plus a sort of mark... they also carried Kevlar, C4, grenade. But what made them special was that red sach, the Rosian flag and a rose with the saying in Latin, "Democracy in the name of the Rose[i]". They were indeed special. All four of the Sgt. Majors approached one of the workers, Mikhail spoke.

"[i]Where can I meet the leaders?" Alexander rolled his eyes. "Subtle." Johnathon chuckled. "But it works." Alberto chuckled also. "But it might get us killed, anyway, where do we go?"

Meanwhile some Sergeants were unloading supplies, others were taking in the view, others were reciting military plans in their heads... eh...

((I'm basically centering my RP around the Sergeant Majors. The soldiers will be made up in combat. And sorry I took long, damn server...))

A large hydrofoil approached Oxport at high speed, the men aboard the ship hailed the PFM.

"This is Colonel Aldred, we have supplies, and well, us , let us know where to dock and we'll begin offloading."

The hydrofoil is a dark non-reflective blue and bears no markings or insignia of any kind. It looks very much like a ship used to smuggle drugs or weapons, very fast, low profile and quiet.

"Oxport Control calling unmarked hydrofoil. Please wait there. Two craft will escort you into a nearby secure dock."


<Oxport Military Docks>

"Gentlemen. You will be briefed by the overall PFM commander when we reach our destination. If you would kindly follow me and board the trucks over there, we can begin our journey" said a low ranking officer to the assorted TIOR Rosktai.

"Oxport Control calling unmarked hydrofoil. Please wait there. Two craft will escort you into a nearby secure dock."


<Oxport Military Docks>

"Gentlemen. You will be briefed by the overall PFM commander when we reach our destination. If you would kindly follow me and board the trucks over there, we can begin our journey" said a low ranking officer to the assorted TIOR Rosktai.

The 4 Sergeant Majors started following the man. Each of them having assorted thoughts. Some thought of their home, others of their family, but really they just wanted to get home alive. Johnathon spoke.

"I expect to return to the docks. The men will stay here and provide security, unless you're taking all support to a specific base. Other then that, I want to see my squad." The other 3 spoke simotaneously. "And mine."

Eh c'est la vie....

"Sir. It is unsafe to wait around here. Should the McLeods manage to get satellite coverage of this area, they could easily launch a strike mission against these docks, and then our hope of victory will be shot. We must get away from here as quickly as possible, especially since you have weapons showing. Please, you and your men must follow me"

The unmarked hydrofoil came to an easy stop as Colonel Aldred and his men waited for their escort.

The hydrofoil looked unarmed and the unassuming men onboard looked like they were dressed for a pleasant day in the bay, not at all the type of men that anyone had experted to show up as expert help.

Colonel Aldred radioed the Oxport Operational Control "All stop here, we're ready whenever you are."

OOC: Mind if i take that missile strike :) :)

IC:

<New White House, J City>

President Anderson had just left the situation room when the reports of the attacks on the three navy vessels came through.

The President was striding quickly towards the residence wing of the building with his security detail when one of the Secret Service Agents pressed his earpiece in and then spoke quickly into his cuff microphone.

"Mr President, we are recieving reports of a missile attack on the Forsythe group. Vice-President Bull requests that you return to the situation room for a full briefing."

"Ok, Jack. Get somebody to tell Alex that I'll be a while."

"Yes Mr President."

Once again he spoke into his microphone as the group reversed their course and headed back down the corridor towards the situation room.

A minute later the President entered the room, everybody inside standing as he did so. Sitting back down onto his still warm leather chair he called for a situation report. The Secretary of Defence began.

"Sir, twenty minutes ago several harpoon missiles were launched at the group. One of the destroyers took a hit and the AEGIS had a near miss. Both fires are out, however more missiles are incoming as well as several enemy fighter-bombers. As of two minutes ago we have a confirmed figure of 17men dead times two wounded. Our ships fired harpoons and tomahawks in responce, we are getting damage reports in as we speak."

At this point a man in the military uniform of Colonel tapped the Head of the Joint Cheifs on the shoulder and passed over some satellite photos, still hot from the printer.

"Mr President, we have just recieved a video feed from a KH-11 satellite showing infra-red pictures of ships offloading supplies at this port. Earlier today McLeodian intelligence classified this port as Hostile. From this feed we can see ships of what looks like two different nationalities offloading at the port. We are enhancing to see if we can get a confirmation on ID's."

"What do you recommend?" asked the President

"We need to hit this place with missiles, and every other port on the list of hostiles. As soon as possible."

"How soon Jim?"

"We can have B-6's and B-2's in the air with the right ordenace within 15minutes of your order. B-52's will take a little longer to get there but can carry more missiles. We would use them to take out and SAM or AA sites located by satellite and then on the port facilites. The B-2's and B-6's would carry GBU's and other laser guided ordenance with F-117s in a backup wave."

"You have a go General."

"Roger that Sir. Excuse me Gentlemen."

He stood and left the room into the adjoining comm centre.

"Mr President I think its time to raise the status of the Saratoga battle group." said Admiral Davies, acting Chief of Staff for the Navy "You should put them at DEFCON-1 with strict ROE to shoot at anything that approaches missile launch range. We had no warning of the attack on the Forsythe"

"Move the battle group to DEFCON-2 and advise the commander that he may do whatever it takes to ensure the safety of his command. When they are within 200miles of the coast put them to DEFCON-1"

"Yes Mr President"


<Saratoga Battle Group. 400Miles from the Coast.>

In a vast cabin onboard the IHS Saratoga the commanders of the fleet are relaxing over a small drink when one is called to the door by a man from the comms room.After ten seconds of talking the Captain turned back.

"Admiral, the fleet has been upgraded to DEFCON-2 Sir."

"Thank you Captain. Inform Captain Hawkins and Captain Depp." The group SAM commander and Anti-Sub Commanders respectively.The Admiral turned back to his and the other carries assembled officers.

"I believe we have work to do."

As they finished or put down their drinks they began thinking about the change in status. Somebody up the chain of command thought they were wondering into trouble.

"Sir. It is unsafe to wait around here. Should the McLeods manage to get satellite coverage of this area, they could easily launch a strike mission against these docks, and then our hope of victory will be shot. We must get away from here as quickly as possible, especially since you have weapons showing. Please, you and your men must follow me"

Alberto let out a whistle. The soldiers started rushing towards the man. All different, yet all killing machines. Mikhail looked around for abit, as in he moved his head. Alexander nudged Mikhail. "Come on let's go." He said.

Mikhail nodded. "Sir, take us." 40 men awaited a new destination, where? Who knows... I sure as hell don't.

The Morrison advance had been halted. While they still retained a few air assets and a known active port, their main ground force had been chewed up and spit back out. The ABRAXAS Unit had been conducting informal debriefings of captured Morrison soldiers after the Battle of Southland. The analytical AI were in the process of processing all the myriad bits and pieces they collected to try to come up with a reasonable order-of-battle for what remained of the insurgent forces.

In the meantime, the Expeditionary Bipedal Force dispatched to the area had been working hard at cannibalizing Morrison equipment to effect repairs to the Southland airport. The best they could do was to restore a simple tactical air defense net with what they had at hand. Anything big would have to be picked up by the NIRTSATs.

The Secretary-General had ordered the Tiamat Battle Group and the Leviathan to return to port immediately because of the dignitaries and royals carried on board. Their first priority was to bring those people safe and sound to Federation territory -- for the time being.

To bolster the sea lanes, four Narwhal-class submarines - including the namesake - and eight Neptune-class submarines were dispatched to take up patrol in the southern seas off the McLeodian coast. They would arrive in two days.

<The Secretary-General's Office>

"Our satellites picked up the heat plumes from a large freighter entering a port controlled by the PFM. A foreign aircraft carrier has also taken up station near PFM-controlled waters. As of now, they have not made any direct provocatory actions against our forces in the region," the Undersecretary of Defense said.

"Yet. Keep an eye on those ships. If we get clear evidence that they are providing aid to insurgents, sink them. Have we confirmed the rumors that PFM operatives commandeered a Nightingale from Atlantica Prime?" the Secretary-General asked tersely.

"As you are well aware, sir, the general breakdown in communications between remote McLeodian forces..."

The Secretary-General shot the Undersecretary an icy glare.

"No, sir. We do not have independent confirmation yet. The analytical team believes it is the most likely scenario, though."

The Secretary-General sighed irritatedly and nodded. "Airdrop two squadrons of U-LIDS. One off each approach to the southern seas. I don't want either the Morrisons or the PFM trying to sneak something past us."

The Navy Chief of Staff nodded in agreement. "I'll have them in the water within twenty-four hours, sir."

"Keep me updated, everyone. That's all for now," the Secretary-General concluded.

At that, the Sec-Gen's staff dispersed to carry out his orders and go about their normal duties. Twelve U-LIDS autonomous coastal defense submarines, six in each squadron, were carefully loaded onto C-88 transports and prepped for their deployment.

The incessantly patient hunter-killers would patrol the approaches to the southern seas like sandsharks... virtually undetectable and armed with vertically-launching supercavitation torpedoes. They could break a surface ship's keel or gouge a hole in a submarine from underneath, where most were the least defended.

<Encrypted Message>
To: Secretary-General, FACS
From: King James VII

It is my solemn duty to inform you that any rumours concerning the theft of a Nightingale from Atlantica Prime are true. I have only just recieved word, and it is estimated that it will take at least a week, if not more, to be able to launch further vessels that have a hope of stopping the stolen ship. I am therefore asking for your help in tracking down the vessel. If it is in any way possible, recapturing the ship is preferable to sinking it. If FACS marines manage to retake the ship, we may be able to come to an arrangement under which the vessel will be permanently placed under your command.

<End Message>


<Witches Bay, Falkland Island Chain>

A large dark shape broke the surface of the water, and within minutes, hundreds of smaller boats were headed towards the Tiberus under the cover of darkness, in an area never covered by McLeodian satellites. After barely half an hour, the ship submerged, and the bay was quiet oncemore.


<Oxport>

Two Pegasus hydrofoils, big, heavily armed ships, shot out of the dock to meet the IV ship, and to escort it into the nearby docks and waiting transport.

"Please follow us" was the only communication from the vessels.


<Oxport Dockside>

With the commandos onboard, the convoy of trucks headed out of the city, splitting up and taking different routes. After between an hour and nearly three hours depending on the route, the soldiers arrived at their destination. Codenamed Dreamland-2, it was the Royal Army's main research and development centre. It was from here that the PFM operated, and they had access to vast supplies of reserve vehicles in storage, and prototypes of newer vehicles and munitions yet ot the be brought into combat.

The men were led to a low concrete building set away from the lab sector and power plant. At first, it would seem unappealing and almost inadequate. Inside were a handful of empty rooms. They would wait for the rest of the troops to arrive, including those from Ilek-Vaad, before they progressed any further. As far as the troops could tell, their accomodation left a lot to be desired.

<Encrypted Message>
To: Secretary-General, FACS
From: King James VII

It is my solemn duty to inform you that any rumours concerning the theft of a Nightingale from Atlantica Prime are true. I have only just recieved word, and it is estimated that it will take at least a week, if not more, to be able to launch further vessels that have a hope of stopping the stolen ship. I am therefore asking for your help in tracking down the vessel. If it is in any way possible, recapturing the ship is preferable to sinking it. If FACS marines manage to retake the ship, we may be able to come to an arrangement under which the vessel will be permanently placed under your command.

<End Message>

<Encrypted Transmission>
To: King James VII
From: The Secretary-General

Twelve of my best sub hunters are en route as we speak. If anyone can find the stolen Nightingale, they can.

<End Transmission>

<Oxport Dockside>

With the commandos onboard, the convoy of trucks headed out of the city, splitting up and taking different routes. After between an hour and nearly three hours depending on the route, the soldiers arrived at their destination. Codenamed Dreamland-2, it was the Royal Army's main research and development centre. It was from here that the PFM operated, and they had access to vast supplies of reserve vehicles in storage, and prototypes of newer vehicles and munitions yet ot the be brought into combat.

The men were led to a low concrete building set away from the lab sector and power plant. At first, it would seem unappealing and almost inadequate. Inside were a handful of empty rooms. They would wait for the rest of the troops to arrive, including those from Ilek-Vaad, before they progressed any further. As far as the troops could tell, their accomodation left a lot to be desired.

Some of the soldiers started to play cards, others thumb wrestled. I know that few began pray to God. Most of them were disgusted by the accomodations, but hey, what can you expect from revolutionaries. The Sergeant Majors started to speak...

Johnathon: "Why do you think we're here?"

Mikhail sighed. "Maybe because they have a super secret mission planned for us?"

Alberto chuckled. "That puts it nicely."

Alexander sighed. "Just shut up and thumbwrestle." He nudged Mikhail. "You know I can beat you."

Mikhail gasped. "Lies! Pure lies! I challenge you!"

The two began to thumb wrestle... great.

The 'shadows' diligently followed their excort to dock. Once docked they began pulling up the floor of the hydrofoil and unloading boxes of FN-FAL assault riles, ammunition, plastic explosives, detonators and briefcases filled with currency. Once everything is unloaded (it is quite a bit, the boat rides a good 3 ft higher once unloaded) they quickly strip and put on all black 'para-military' style uniforms, bullet proof vests. They each also strap on a side arm (Browning 9mm) sub-machine gune (Ingram Mac-11s, with a long silencer attached) and a Steyr AMR/IWS 2000 15.2mm anti-material rifles, with plenty of ammo.

The Colonel nods "Okay, where to now?"

<IHS Forsythe>

In the air-conditioned CIC the atomosphere was electric. So far the SM-2's had only hit two of the 8 inbound missiles whilst the original 8 bore on for the enemy aircraft.

Captain Roberts was worried. He had expended over half of his SAM loadout in one night, and whilst the two destroyers still had half their loads left they were still launching at the incoming missiles and aircraft.

If they kept firing them at this rate they would be out of missiles within half an hourhen have to rely soley on the CIWS mounts, which wouldnt be able to deal with a large volume of missiles.

However he had more pressing problems as the incoming missiles would hit in four minutes. The three ships were now making a tactical withdrawl out to sea, thereby exposing all of their guns to the missiles, but also a broadside target for them to home in on.

The three AEGIS radars were still pumping out radar waves, oblivious to the danger that they where drawing to themselves.

Captain Roberts checked the status of his missiles and took some consolence that they would hit half a minute before the first missile hit the ships.

<Viper flight>

The first victim of the battlegroups SAM launches was Viper 4, the least experienced pilot of the formation. Two of the huge SM-2 missiles ripped his fighter apart, and caused the detonation of the 2000lb bomb slung beneath it. The fireball would be easily visible from the ships, the the concussion of the blast shook the three remaining fighters badly. The further launches only served to highlight the position of the IH ships, white smoke standing out easily against the dark sea and sky. The remaining three fighters shut down all transmissions and dropped to barely 50 ft above the wave tops, relying on the beacon of smoke to lead them to their targets.


<Oxport Docks>

"Gentlemen, follow me" said the same military officer to greet the last lot of troops. He led them across the docks into a warehouse, where their equipment was being rapidly moved to. In here, they were safe from satellite surveillance. Inside the warehouse were a series of fuel tankers and trucks labelled with the logo's of various supermarket chains. PFM-loyal workers began to load the equipment into the trucks, leaving one empty fuel tanker.

The military officer flicked a switch in the side of the tanker, revealing rows of comfortable seats inside, as well as several television screens, and even a DVD player. "Please, make your self comfortable. We have a long drive ahead of us" he said, before climbing into the back of the truck and taking his seat.


<Royal Residence>

The area was now lit by huge floodlights, and enough wreckage had been cleared to create a makeshift landing zone. The sound of jet engines grew ever louder and closer, until two MV-32 transports appeared and rapidly landed on the cleared area. From the back of one, twenty-four members of the elite Royal Guard rushed out, forming a perimeter around the other craft. When the ramp lowered, the King himself stepped down onto the ground. From a distance, he looked in the best of health, but close up he looked much less healthy, a product of the excessive radiation he had been exposed to. He was a dying man, but he had one duty to perform before he died.

Walking through the mixture of McLeodian and FACS troops, shaking hands and exhanging greetings with almost all of them, he strode up to where two RPU agents that had been on the second MV-32 with him had grabbed William Morrison, and held him firmly, despite his injuries.

"We finally meet then. You who has ruined my country, destroyed my capital, and tried to kill my family. You who so willing detonated a nuclear bomb, killing untold numbers of people. And for what. You are beaten. Our law dictates that you should be executed, publicly, in Victors Square, where your ancestors tried so valiantly to kill off my clan. They, like you, failed. Since you destroyed that square, I will carry out that duty here, and now. You will have no last meal, no trial, no chance of reprieve. Goodbye, scum." he said, staring unblinkingly into the man's eyes.

With that, he drew a long gleaming sword from its sheath, and with one fell stroke, the Morrison revolt was leaderless. Behind this scene, the captured troops were forced to watch. Those who returned to the loyalist side were placed in penal legions for ten years, to help rebuild the country they destroyed, and those who refused were executed on the spot by firing squad.

<The Secretary-General's Office>

"Sir, we have noted rapidly increasing activity in and around the PFM-controlled port. The AI predict that some sort of aggressive PFM move is imminent now that a foreign country has promised to send in two battle groups to defend their shoreline," the Undersecretary of Defense said.

"What right do those people think they have to come in and back an organization like the PFM with such force? Neither the PFM nor the Morrissons came to the negotiating table. They never came to ask us to mediate a peaceful resolution. They detonated a fucking nuke in the middle of a city and grabbed what the could. Terrorists and opportunists, that's what they are," the Secretary-General bitterly remarked.

"Sir, I think that we need to send a message to the PFM that further interference in McLeodian affairs will not be tolerated. The King's forces should deal with the situation on the ground, but we can provide them some... leverage," said the Undersecretary of Defense.

The Secretary-General nodded and looked out from his office window over Port Alexandria. A true capitalist paradise, this city was. This was what could be done through mutually beneficial cooperation. The shell-shocked countryside of McLeod was proof positive of what violent leftist activism led to. The rights of the McLeodian people had to be protected, even from themselves in this case.

"I'm assuming there is already a plan of action," the Sec-Gen mused.

The Defense Undersecretary was waiting for this. "Yes, sir. We will deploy ABRAXAS Squad Two - without bipedal units - covertly into PFM backcountry where they will conduct hit-and-fade operations against rebel infrastructure. Oil refineries, ammo depots, things of that nature. All you need is to give us the word and we'll greenlight the plan."

Without a moment's hesitation, the Secretary-General approved the covert operation. "Make it happen. Keep the PFM from getting too bold."

<In the meantime...>

The 22nd Expeditionary Submarine Force arrived in southern McLeodian waters shortly after the U-LIDS autonomous patrol sub-craft established their control lines on either side of the southern continental shelf. The idea was that any approaching enemy naval force would have to avoid the U-LIDS net by running out deep and coming back around... where the Neptunes, Narwhals, and their sub-fighters would be waiting. Hounds to the hunters.

A solitary Orca-class submarine stripped of its VLS tubes and subfighter support and modified into an ultraquiet surveillance boat broke off from the 22nd's sonar shadow, dove twenty-four meters, and began a cautious arc towards the northeast. Using the edge of the continental shelf to shield against sonar nets and patrol aircraft, the special operations submarine hoped to slip past the foreign ships and take up position off the far northern coast of PFM-controlled territory.

From there, Squad Two would make their way into the PFM sector to begin their operation. But first, they had to get to the staging point. That meant patience and a careful balance. If the sub moved too fast, they would surely be picked up. If they moved too slowly, they might not arrive in enough time to do any good. Such is among the dangers of covert ops, dangers they were all familiar with.

<Onboard SF-3 Manta Ray Charlie 1>

The single subfighter sat, with neutral buoyency, watching an Orca drift past. Made of sound deadening material, the SF-3s were the pinnacle of stealth subfighter technology. Virtually undetectable without using active sonar, it could run almost silently on MHD-style engines for over two thousand miles. The Orca had been detected by a probe dropped as they left Atlantica Prime. Slowly, the Tiberus had been laying these probes across the sea bed. Any slight movement would be detected and reported. Of the hundreds of normal disturbances, it was pot luck that one of the PFM loyal crew had worked with recognition tapes, and identified the track as a submarine.

The pilot engaged the MHD drives with just enough power to keep up with the Orca, and fell in behind it, following it to its destination.

<Onboard SF-3 Manta Ray Charlie 1>

The single subfighter sat, with neutral buoyency, watching an Orca drift past. Made of sound deadening material, the SF-3s were the pinnacle of stealth subfighter technology. Virtually undetectable without using active sonar, it could run almost silently on MHD-style engines for over two thousand miles. The Orca had been detected by a probe dropped as they left Atlantica Prime. Slowly, the Tiberus had been laying these probes across the sea bed. Any slight movement would be detected and reported. Of the hundreds of normal disturbances, it was pot luck that one of the PFM loyal crew had worked with recognition tapes, and identified the track as a submarine.

The pilot engaged the MHD drives with just enough power to keep up with the Orca, and fell in behind it, following it to its destination.

OOC: One, this is a modified Orca with its own sound deadening design. Two, it also runs on MHD engines. Three, the Orca is hugging the continental shelf and is either below probes on the shelf or thousands of feet above any probes on the deep sea floor (and likely separated by thermals). Four, this Orca, as I posted, is designed itself to monitor, track, and study other submarines. So, unless Atlantica Prime is right on the edge of the continental shelf and you have the subfighter sitting out in open water watching the edge... I'd say it's extremely unlikely the Orca could be found so easily, especially when it does not have a track like any other ACS subs.

OOC: My mistake. Must learn to actually read things properly. Ignore last post.

OOC: My mistake. Must learn to actually read things properly. Ignore last post.


OOC: No worries. Just wanted to make sure everything was clear. :)