NationStates Jolt Archive

Pestilence was finally steaming back at power, albeit only partial. With straining of her massive engines, she could move at 19 knots maximum, but was cruising at a safer 16 knots.

And although the ship lived, the hole in her deck already welded shut, the crew was among the living dead. They toiled as the unseeing dead did, their features gray and ashen, their movements growing ever slower and jerkier, until finally, one by one, men began to fall at their posts, sickness overtaking them. The radiation was taking its toll.

The men in all areas near the rent in the deck were the hardest hit, with the release of the noxious fumes flowing deeply through their lungs. They already were hit with terminal cancer, but there was enough radiation to quite easily kill them within a matter of days. Those in the engine areas were hit even harder, if they still lived.

Reactor A had blown, showering the three lower decks the reactors rested on with fallout and flaming rubble. Those within twelve bulkheads had died, the shock of destruction great enough to blow out their airtight bulkheads and crush them. Flash burns, radiation poisoning, and fallout sickness- all these effects were observed and hundreds of men crowded the ship’s hospitals, their groans of pain filling the halls of the ship.

Already, all personnel on board that were not showing increased levels of radiation were wearing HAZMAT suits, their bulky forms filling up the narrow corridors. And as men dropped beside their stations, new men moved in to replace them, the white clad bodies dragging comatose sailors from the reeking bowels of the ship upwards, outwards, out of sight. But not out of mind. For every white clad man that replaced on of them, the unprotected men came ever closer to the realization that they truly were crewing a ship of the damned- one of the four bringers of death, the Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

+++++++++++++++++
As the entire fleet cruised along, at 16 knots to keep up with the ailing Pestilence, it soon became apparent they were moving towards a clearly defined target. Laying only about 1,200 nm away from Zarbia and with geography roughly that of Egypt, the word was out on the ships before the official announcement was made. Safehaven2 would be the next target.

The massive group of ships- Samtonian, Panteran, Freekian- all moved together, providing mutual support and protection. The entity moved together, after an act of God had leveled one of their enemies, ready to spring upon the next enemy at once and rip them to shreds. That is, if the nation didn’t surrender first.

+++++++++++++++++
To the leaders of Safehaven2

Congratulations. You have raised the irk of Samtonia. And the wrath of Pantera. And the hatred of AMF. And we’re all coming for you. The same applies to you as it did to Zarbia- Full and unconditional surrender. Or we kill every living thing in your nation. You’ve got twelve hours to decide, before we draw within range of your nation to bombard your shores.

Make peace with us- or die like dogs. These are your options.

http://img89.exs.cx/img89/9056/JamesDaltonDeputyDefenseMinister.jpg
Field Marshal James Dalton, Defense Minister

A lone freighter had set off from the shores of Dracun Imperium under a white flag of truce hanging from it's mast and a distress signal transmitting from it's command deck. It moved on a predetermined course headed for the coast of Safehaven2 and appeared to be run solely on 'auto-pilot'.....there were no traces of any crew of any kind. Nor were there traces of any biological, chemical, or nuclear elements of any kind. It seemed as if the ship had been sent undisturbed to the coast of Safehaven2, and the distress beacon continued to sound without disturbance.

Throught the waves the ship rocked to and fro, crashing with the waves as it sped towards the mainland at maximum speed. The computer inside was set to slow down and eventually stop once it reached a predetermined distance from the coast. As the ship crossed international waters and just into Safehaven territory it began the first of several automated slowdowns, it's engines kicking into a lower gear. Still no movement could be seen on the decks of the seemingly abandoned ship as it continued it's journey.

++++++++++++++++

OOC: No nasty n00k surprises or anything of the sort here Safe, you have my word on that.

Bump

The mass of Pantera's transports cruised along with the bulk of Samtonia's fleet, while a few miles behind came the great reaguard of the Panteran warships.

The Warhound sat in his solar aboard his warship, Seabitch. The past weeks had been one large farce, and now he was truly angry. The gall of his enemies, to use nuclear weaponry. What were they thinking?

Well, no matter. One enemy was gone and forgotten, while many more cowered ahead. This nation of Safehaven was a nation of fools and trembling cravens. They would fall easily, and hard, that is, unless they surrendered.

Surrender would doubtless be the best option for the rest of this Coward Coalition, as his officers had taken to calling those enemies who had arrayed themselves against the Lord Reaver and his fellows. Fools.

Yes, surrender would be the smart way to go about getting out of this situation intact, but how smart could these fools be, after defying Dreadfire and the Evenstar? Well, if they chose to resist, his Reavers were getting restless. With no chance for landing in Zarbia, they had spilled no blood or pillaged anything since boarding their transports, a number of weeks before.

Surrender or plunder, it made no difference to the Reavers. The end result would be the same: Victory.

OOC: Hey guys, I cant respond now as Ive got alot to respond to in another thread and im pretty busy but Ill get on this soon as I can. Just out of curiosity, why'd the Zarbian invasion end?

OOC: Hey guys, I cant respond now as Ive got alot to respond to in another thread and im pretty busy but Ill get on this soon as I can. Just out of curiosity, why'd the Zarbian invasion end?

It was spiraling downward anyway, but I guess he had finals and all, so he backed out, and here we are.

International Airspace, 30 miles off Safehaven Coast

The Tupolev 95 was an ancient design by modern standards. She was thirty years out of date as a heavy intercontinental bomber. However, the design cruising at 45,000 feet towards Safehaven had recently seen its weapons systems abandoned, replaced with a pressurized cabin. Multiple antennae protruded from the fuselage and wings, providing intercept capability for a wide range of radar and radio frequencies. A bulbous radar dome under the nose provided surface tracking capabilities similar to a JSTARS aircraft. A satellite uplink dish above and behind the cockpit allowed for secure relay of intelligence to the Angelican Multi-Agency Intelligence Command Center. An aircrew of six kept the aircraft aloft, with an additional six man electronic systems team

Designated the EB-95A by the Angelican Air Force, the aircraft was part of the early stages of the reforms of the Angelican Armed Forces. Eight antiquated bombers had been converted to EB-95A platforms, allowing for Angelico to maintain a constant 24/7 coverage of areas of interest. Today, that area of interest was the military action occurring off the coast of Safehaven. The ongoing global war was of great concern to the Angelican government, who desired to gain intelligence on reforms in the conduct of war. As such, they had ordered the VMQ-1 “Skywatcher” Squadron to establish an airborne observation point over international waters.

Upon arriving within radar scanning range of the large fleet formations, the EB-95A activated a looped radio message, broadcast over a variety of open maritime and air control frequencies. The message said the same thing in English, French, and other common languages. It would repeat every 15 minutes for the first day of the observation operation, every hour for every subsequent day of the operation.

“Attention, attention. This is Angelican military aircraft EB-95A, at coordinates {lat, long}. We are maintaining an observation of this area from international airspace. This is not an offensive action, and we are unarmed. Our observations are for the purposes of internal use, only, and will not be shared with any other state. Please contact the Angelican Bureau for State Affairs should there be any concerns... Attention, attention...”


OOC: This is essentially an IC tag. Honestly, this is just my way of participating while my nation’s still small and pathetic. No ulterior motive.

[OOC-Bump]

Diplomatic transmission to Samptonia:

We wish to end this war. We will accept a surrender to Samptona. While we will surrender to Samptona we request only Samptonian's come near Safehaven. We do not wish to see thousands die at the dorrstep of our nation and as such we sincerely insist you take ths offer.


Safehaven2 had been living under threat of invasion from AMF and its allies for months, wiating and preparing and now it was finally coming. If the peace offer wasn't accepted it would be a bloody war for both sides. The key to the defense of Safehaven2 were the tens of thousands of mines that stretched out into the sea's surrounding the country. Recently watching the Brimstone alliance fight the minefield had been extended outward.

The exact landing point could not be known but a generalized area could be infered by the position of the invasion fleets and their headings. Nothing was actually placed on the beach but large forces were prepared to hit any landing force that showed itself.

OOC: Europe not Egypt.

Pursing his lips, Dalton stood at the bridge of his ship, twilight beginning to run across the calm waters of the ocean. It was due to him that the men on board the Samtonian ships had died and it was playing on his conscience. Shaking his head, he turned around and walked back inside the ship, to the command Ready Room.

Here, it was a scene of organized chaos. Officers ran plots over topographic maps, denoting various beaches that might serve as the landing zones. Meanwhile, the ship’s sonar operators tracked any pings they might pick up, no matter how slight. As Dalton entered, it seemed as if no one noticed him, the drone of planning drowning out his entrance.

As he walked behind the men, it became clear to Dalton that any attack would result in massive casualties. The active sonar had already picked up minefields, and at least three recon birds had painted the areas infrared. The field was huge and could quite easily sink any fleet that attempted to run through it. Meanwhile, on land, troops were massing to drive back any invasion force that might present itself.

Manila folders were brought to the Defense Minister one by one, each more gruesome then the last. Projected economic damage to Safehaven2. Projected civilian casualties. Projected Samtonian casualties. The last folder was even worse, dealing with the use of a nuclear weapon to clear a gaping hole in the minefield.

Dalton grimaced. Nothing seemed to be good for Samtonia- in cost, international respect, or number of casualties. This was certainly the reason that, as an informed subordinate presented him with a folder detailing the latest Havenite transmission, Dalton practically ran out of the room shouting. Of course, not an officer there noticed.
++++++++++++++


Surrender, eh? To Samtonia? Well, we accept. We promise fair terms, good treatment, etc…all that jazz. And we promise only Samtonians will ever touch your land or your waters. Panteran ships will move to 25 miles out to assist with patrols, but no AMF vessel or soldier will get anywhere near your country. Perhaps a bureaucrat, or a legislative leader on a tour of the war zones, but no official AMF military envoy will touch down. Except, of course, for the AMF liaison with my staff.

Samtonian troops will steam into your largest port’s harbor at 0900 tomorrow morning. We want weapons disarmed, soldiers ready to be accounted for, and those damned minefields turned off. The rest of the settlement reached by our diplomats(*) will go into place immediately following.

We thank you for averting this needless bloodshed and of course urge you not to allow any citizens of yours to actively resist this peaceful “looking after” of your country by Samtonia.

Yours,
http://img89.exs.cx/img89/9056/JamesDaltonDeputyDefenseMinister.jpg
Field Marshal James Dalton, Defense Minister

+++++++++++++++++++
Encryption Patterns W-C-AD34-1.3.b
To: Pantera and AMF
Re: Safehaven2

Greetings, all leaders contacted. Excellent news. Safehaven2 has capitulated. AS per their surrender terms, Samtonia will oversee their peaceful re-integration back into productive society. We plan on watching the nation until the current “Brimstone” crisis is ended, then turning back control.

But until that time, we have nothing to fear from Safehaven2. However, they have asked not one military object of your nations be landed in their nation. We believe it’s fair, as your fleets will be able to move to A-GO directly, with Samtonia following in a bit. So, barring your liaison officers attached to my staff and any diplomatic personnel, we will have to ask that only Panteran ships help patrol the ocean outside the 20-mile coastal limit and that nary an AMF ship threaten their shores.

For the good of the team, of course.

http://img89.exs.cx/img89/9056/JamesDaltonDeputyDefenseMinister.jpg
Field Marshal James Dalton, Defense Minister


[OOC-*= Our AIM conversation and all points worked out there]

OOC: Sam, get online.

IC:
Re to Samtonia:

We are glad to see you've accepted our offer but we must request that the Pantarans stay further back. It is not that we question your integrity it is the fact that that same Panteran fleet was engaged in battle with Havenite air units, a battle that caused casaulties. Humans have a natural urge for revenge and this is something we do not want to take chacnes with.

For a landing site we offer the city of Kiel. We ask that you stop 250 mils out so we can direct you in safely from defenses we have set up. The escort will be extremly light, a few small old destroyers and cruisers.


Preperations were being made for the coming occupation fleet. The surrender would be paper thin. Already the majority of the fleets were sent oversea's to neighboring countries were they would stay for the time being. Preperations were being made to hide away whatever wasn't to be allowed to fall into Samtonian hands.

A Freek frieghter was seen soming in, barely 200nm off. In a moment of curiosity two small gunboats were sent to chck it out. Pulling up a force of marines quickly boarded the ship to see what it held.

(OOC: If I went to far AMF Ill back it up.)

We are glad to see you've accepted our offer but we must request that the Pantarans stay further back. It is not that we question your integrity it is the fact that that same Panteran fleet was engaged in battle with Havenite air units, a battle that caused casaulties. Humans have a natural urge for revenge and this is something we do not want to take chacnes with.


The 25-mile zone will remain in effect. It is not for you to dictate where we go or where our ships drop anchor. My Reavers will stay their hand, but only because I ordered it, at the request of our Samtonian allies.

Do not presume to order us about. Only the thin thread of Samtonia holds you back from the fire. Your surrender saddens many in Pantera, for we wished to punish you for your prior offenses. However, surrender is the path you chose, and we shall trust our allies to see it through.

We are the ones who will give orders and dictate terms. You are the ones who will kneel. Do not forget where you stand, here.

-Evenstar

~tag~

Diplomatic transmission to Samptonia:

We wish to end this war. We will accept a surrender to Samptona. While we will surrender to Samptona we request only Samptonian's come near Safehaven. We do not wish to see thousands die at the dorrstep of our nation and as such we sincerely insist you take ths offer.


Safehaven2 had been living under threat of invasion from AMF and its allies for months, wiating and preparing and now it was finally coming. If the peace offer wasn't accepted it would be a bloody war for both sides. The key to the defense of Safehaven2 were the tens of thousands of mines that stretched out into the sea's surrounding the country. Recently watching the Brimstone alliance fight the minefield had been extended outward.

The exact landing point could not be known but a generalized area could be infered by the position of the invasion fleets and their headings. Nothing was actually placed on the beach but large forces were prepared to hit any landing force that showed itself.

OOC: Europe not Egypt.


[Secure message to Samptonia and NATO forces]

As you can see from this, (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=7726406&postcount=148) the surrender may not be all it seems. Do be careful. Pressure on this front would be appreciated.

A Freek frieghter was seen soming in, barely 200nm off. In a moment of curiosity two small gunboats were sent to chck it out. Pulling up a force of marines quickly boarded the ship to see what it held.

(OOC: If I went to far AMF Ill back it up.)


OOC: No problem, the past few days have been rough, so I'll get a post up ASAP. Also, it's a Dracun freighter, no biggie though.

I'll post what the marines find inside, don't worry, they won't die or anything. BUT, this is going to be difficult now that the surrender is official......

Don't worry, I'll think of something.

[OOC-GAAH! It's SamTONIA. Nothing to do with "p"s in my name. I am getting annoyed with the constant mispelling of my name. I've seen more mispellings of my name then TIOr has had threads that make no sense!]

[OOC-GAAH! It's SamTONIA. Nothing to do with "p"s in my name. I am getting annoyed with the constant mispelling of my name. I've seen more mispellings of my name then TIOr has had threads that make no sense!]

((OOC: My threads make sense dammit! Name one that doesn't make sense!))

[OOC- "Have a Rosian insult you" is one that jumps quickly to mind. That recruitment one for the satirical "anti-christ vs. All."

It's okay TIOr, your threads are for the most part serious. But I have to make a funny with you in it at least once. It's like a law of nature- get a serious situation and any mention of TIOR will make it degenerate into something silly. No insults intended, of course]

[OOC- "Have a Rosian insult you" is one that jumps quickly to mind. That recruitment one for the satirical "anti-christ vs. All."

It's okay TIOr, your threads are for the most part serious. But I have to make a funny with you in it at least once. It's like a law of nature- get a serious situation and any mention of TIOR will make it degenerate into something silly. No insults intended, of course]

((OOC: We all need a laugh sometimes ;)))

Safehaven2 Coastline, Samtonian Fleet, 1930 hours, Dec. 17
With a pop, the cork leapt off of the bottle of champagne. Dalton grinned as the captain of the SNS War poured him a glass. All across the fleet, men were celebrating. Two enemies had fallen, both peacefully, both with minimal casualties.

As one of the patrol boats flashed a congratulation to the flagship, the bridge crew was still watching the skies, though they too were in a festive mood. Cake had been sent down and at every control station was a slice of the multi-layered marble cake.

Dalton saw all this through the window that overlooked the crew pit. He saw the darkened shores of Safehaven2, the radar plots of enemy planes fleeing the country, the satellite photos of Havenite vessels running away to foreign nations. And Dalton didn’t care. At least not for that night. Turning away from the window, he rejoined the party, throwing on a festive hat and entering right into an ongoing conversation.

+++++++++++++
Safehaven2 coastline, 0900 hours, Dec. 18
With the escort steaming ahead, the ships that had been selected to represent Samtonia steamed into the massive port. Dalton, on board one of the smaller command battleships of the Expeditionary Fleets, stood at the helm of the sip, the wind whipping through his hair as he strained his eyes forward.

The port was anchored on two sides by high hills and on each of these a massive coastal gun had been erected, with ammunition, armor, and food enough for the men to hold out for days against even a determined enemy. Even a day ago, Dalton might have had to watch Samtonians disintegrate under the barrage of the mighty guns. Now, he rode past them as soldiers who manned the things cheered for peace.

The city also cheered, its citizens lining the shores in droves, along with the military representatives of the entire sub-sector of Havenite military command. Flags flew proudly, the Havenite standard, the standards of both the port and the state in which it was located, and above them all flew a flag that brought the cries of joy, the flowers being thrown, the spontaneous celebrations. It was the white flag of surrender.

++++++++++++++++
“Let’s get this over with,” groused Dalton as his ships pulled up to the quay. Already, two full-gun salutes of the token escort had been undertaken and he saw another might be forthcoming. The grins of his sailors and airmen were in stark contrast to the frowns displayed by the military commanders, who approached as Dalton stepped off the gangplank onto Havenite ground.

The most decorated official walked up to Dalton and sketched a smart salute.
“Sir! General Alphonsus Wade sir! I am authorized to surrender this port and this country to you.” He wavered, losing his composure, as the sound of detonations echoed through the hills and the sight of the massive defense guns toppling shot through the gaze of all onlookers. Blinking back tears, he kept his salute. ”You are able to do with it as you please.”With that, he dropped the salute and nodded to a subordinate, who dropped the Safehaven2 flag and presented it to Dalton.

Nodding, Dalton accepted the bright standard and, after depositing it with a sailor that was on shore with him, drew himself up next to the general. Grasping the man in a tight hug of friendship, Dalton reassured him. “Sir, whatever I do to your country I would do to my own.” And with that, as the citizens began to cheer once again, praising the man who had saved them from total death, a full flight of supersonic fighters roared past overhead, jet engines burning through the morning sky. And Dalton walked with the Havenite generals, to a meeting with destiny.

++++++++++++++++
But it was the job of the Samtonian Restoration and Salvage Team to clean up any last resistance and capture anything of any importance. One of the most well trained and well disciplined teams in the Samtonian Armed Forces, their task was to get in, get documents, prototypes, and scientists, and get out. And they were the first ones called that morning, Dec. 18th, when surrender was announced…”
The Wrath of the Angels: Operation Brimstone, Samtonian Involvement, and the Decline and Fall of the RWC. John Maybury, Simon and Schuster, May 2012.

Safehaven2 coastline, 0900 hours, Dec. 18
“Roger, we have a-go, repeat, we have a-go.” With that, the most meticulously planned operation in the history of Samtonian Combined Arms was about to take place. AS the massive helicopters lifted off flight decks and began their rapid journey towards the largest government and civilian research and command sites in Safehaven2, members of the most extraordinary force ever assembled sat, cleaning their guns and waiting for touchdown.

Composed of the best spec-ops in Samtonia, the Samtonian Restoration and Salvage Team had a name that belied its function. Trained to rapidly drop, secure, and depart with secret information, research, personnel, and anything else wanted by Samtonian High Command, it was the task of this varied group to secure documents and technology today.

Safehaven2 was already sending everything that could move out of the country and power spikes told of documents beginning to be burned. But it was hoped that some things of importance could be saved.

Destinations ranged from Military High Command to massive research complexes, from the Presidential Palace to the Harbor Command Offices, to everything in between. But one thing was certain. If there were important items in Safehaven2, they would be rescued and carried back to Samtonia. After all, the SRST had never before failed. Why should they now?

With air defenses turned off, military fleeing the country, and the authorization to use deadly force if necessary, there was nothing stopping the SRST. Nothing, that is, except time. Time in which the Havenites would use to hide, break, steal, loot, burn, or otherwise ruin the things the SRST wanted. Time, though, in which the SRST grew ever closer to their targets.

[OOC-To all involved. When would be the best time to have a conference session over AIM to deal with pesky surrender terms and the like? I'm in the US Central Time Zone and anything past 7 is usually pretty good. If you don't have my AIM screen name, it's samtheuberman]

[ooc-bump]

[OOC-Bump for a reply from someone involved, somehow]

OOC: Hope you don't mind if I do this, but this is what your marines find on board.

+++++++++++

The Safehaven marine crews swept across the Dracun freighter with their weapons drawn, searching for any sign of potentially hostile activity. From deck to deck they moved swiftly and silently not knowing what to expect, but no presense on board was detected. One marine noticed a slight blood trail leading to a large button panel on the wall, and a red circle had been drawn around the button marked 'cargo'. Curiously he pressed the blood soaked button using the barrel of his assult rifle, and the main cargo deck at the center of the ship roared to life and opened. A sickening stench filled the air as the marines assembled themselves and decended into the darkness.

The lights in the cargo hold did not work, but the marines could make out large mounds of....something in front of them. Several of them simultaniously lit flares and threw them about, and as the light filled the room the marines gasped in horror at the sight in front of them. Piles of human heads lay everywhere, their faced violated and removed of their eyes, ears, nose, tongue, and lips. The parts that were removed swung from the ceiling by hooks and chains, the blood long gone from the now cold and dead flesh. Looks of horror were frozen on what was left of their faces, and the sickening odor of rotting flesh was everywhere as seas of maggots pulsed and squirmed on the floor.

Everywhere the marines looked lay human heads, and one of the soldiers then turned and saw a very large message scrawled on the wall in blood.....the message read:

A M F

A sign was nailed to the wall beneath the bloody letters, and it too was written in human gore. A soldier squinted to read the letters that had been crudely written on the sign, and as he made out each word he read it out loud.

Before you lay the heads of 17,562 soldiers from The United Clans of Dracun Imperium. They fought like cowards and died like dogs, and now the result lays before you. Should you surrender, the Excessively Armed Empire will show you mercy. Should you fight....you will be seeing more sights of this nature.....except alot closer to home.

Sleep Now In The Fire

-General Brinks-

++++++++

The marines quickly exited the cargo hold and immediatly radioed back to Safehaven2 command. The message had obviously been written before the official surrender was made, but who knew if the Freeks were already on their way.....

The grand city of Kiel was now under Samtonian occupation. For the most part the city was calm and quiet, the Samtonians were behaving and the populace was responding in kind. Still their were the die hards, the few people who couldn't accept what had happened. Acts of hate and resistance happened, very rarily but they happened here and there. Most of the time being nothing more than grafiti or flinging insults at Samtonian troops.

The Samtonians were being watched though, very carefully, very peacefully. The Kiel "police" were in actuality military troops, one of the dozens of ways the military was avoiding demobalizing. Any questions the Samtonians had about it would simply be met with the answer that Havenite police forces had always been heavily armed as crime was something that wasn't tolerated. Of course if requested proper ID and papers would be provided.


The hunt for information by the Samtonians was a perfect example of why they were being watched. Thier huge helicopters were easy to spot on radar traveling around Safehaven. Safehaven was a huge country, a massive country and even a whole army wouldn't be able to scour every single government office or military installation for intel in any small amount of time. Huge bonfires were created, hundreds of computers were wiped clean, anything incriminating or bad was destroyed. Werever possible in its place intel shouting a wish among the Havenite military and political establishments to surport Brimstone and abandon the RWC was put. Though 100% false it looked 100% real.

That didn't stop some things from being found out, info on troop deployments in some parts of the country and parts of Havenite controlled Useicton was found. Intel on planned satelite launches, and somehow the upcoming training program for an entire army corp was left behind.

Though time ran out, the teams leapt into action. Most of the intelligence recovered was not too useful- shipping manifestoes, names of area judges, money donated to political parties, old troop deployments, timetables for experiments or experimental data Samtonia already had. The missions were, for the most part, dismal failures, military-wise. All except one of them…
The Wrath of the Angels: Operation Brimstone, Samtonian Involvement, and the Decline and Fall of the RWC. Pg.63. John Maybury, Simon and Schuster, May 2012.

Safehaven2 Military High Command Headquarters, Northern Coastline Echelon, 0945 hours, Dec. 18
As members of the intelligence and command staffs frantically wiped data clear, the lieutenant in charge of the data evacuation nervously looked at his watch. Ten more minutes and they’d have wiped everything. He just needed ten more minutes. Looking back up, he strode over to a computer where someone was evidently having difficulties. “Langdon, what the hell are you doing?”

Meanwhile, Outside
“Copy that Delta Team, Bravo is in position. Securing roof now.”
With slight whirs of motors on cables heard, a twelve man team dressed entirely in the spec-ops uniforms of Samtonia’s SRST slid down the up most walls of the massive complex, guns at the ready. Their black suits providing some modicum of covert, even in the middle of the day, the men were ready for anything. Submachine-guns were strung on slings across their chests, laser sights on and scanning the building’s roof. The black visors of the helmets obscured their faces, protecting them from blinding flashes or loud noises, as well as poisonous gases.

With muffled thumps, the men dropped on the roof and made their way to the edge. One lone sentry sat there, walkie-talkie in hand, ready to alert someone inside the complex if Samtonians approached. They wouldn’t give them that big of a hint. One dart hit the guard in the neck and he toppled forwards, instantaneously.

“Delta, you are clear.”

Back Inside
Lt. Connors was frantic with worry. The data was going to take longer then estimated. Twenty minutes, at the very least. Now almost beside himself with nervousness, he glanced up at a wall clock, sweat running through his shirt. Hearing one of the guards open the main door, Connors turned around, furious. “Your post is outside, damn it! How will we know if Samtonians get i…”

It was no guard, he realized, as he turned all the way around. He was staring into the impassive, reflective visor of a spec-ops soldier. The Samtonians had come.

++++++++++++++
“On the ground! Now!” screamed the major in charge of the operation, codenamed Chickenhawk. AS his men subdued the techs in the room, he stepped towards the officer in charge of the data clearing operation.

“Where are the backup discs?” asked the uniformed Samtonian to the prone Havenite, with his arms on his head and a bead of sweat trickling down his nose.

No reply.

“Where are the data discs?” asked the Samtonian again.

Still no answer.

“Very well. Final chance,” said the Samtonian, as he drew his HK-547. Placing the barrel against the man’s head, he slowly adjusted the fire mode to single shot. The snap of the fire-mode change lever could be heard through the silent room, as the Havenite began to shake in fear. “Where are the discs?”

The Havenite nearly fainted. “Through those doors, main safe. Access code 12-AB7-NM3.” With a nod of the officer’s head, a full team was sent that way. It appeared this mission would be a success after all.
++++++++++++++
“Twelve computers, two techs, and this,” intoned the officer back on board the aircraft carrier. “You realize what’s in here?”

“No sir,” stated the commander of Chickenhawk, the major whose gamble back in the building earlier had gotten the Samtonians the backup drives.

The officer grinned. “You’re high enough clearance to hear this. Training manifestoes, troop deployments, launch data for satellites, location of two nuclear facilities, and a number of other smaller pieces of intel, including complete maps of the coastal minefields from two weeks ago. This was a goldmine commander. It will take days to sift through the stuff your men found. Samtonia thanks you, and rewards you accordingly.”

With a swift movement of his arm, the major found a gold star within a circle, emblazoned with the crest of Samtoina, pinned to his tunic. “Congratulations major. You’re now a Hero of Samtonia. A fine day for you. But an even finer day for our army, thanks to your data.”