NationStates Jolt Archive

On board the L.S.V. Nimerl, a Derrin Mo Class fleet carrier

Avios? What in the rains do we have against Avios? I've never even heard of them. High Leaf Admiral Eskan placed the orders down on his desk and rubbed his temples. In front of him, a junior communications officer stood by the cabin - no, office, who was this old former sailor fooling? - door, at attention. Eskan looked down at the orders again and sighed. "These orders, you say they came from-"

"Poliy, sir, Defence Minister Poliy," the younger man answered, a smile struggling to escape his thin lips. No doubt the man had read the orders, against protocol. Half the First Southern Fleet probably knew the orders. The military was no place for secrets. Who said that? Eskan couldn't remember.

Avios... he sighed and sat foward. Nearly all of the Lindimese carrier fleets, and quite a few submarines were all going against some obscure Communist nation. On orders from the Defence Minister. Had the Prime Minister even mentioned Avios lately? Ever? No matter, it wasn't his position to question orders. But still...

"Issue this as a general dispatch order to the fleets. Both Western fleets and the two Southern fleets are to rendevous at Hyn Bilsa and then proceed to point, oh, designate it Tango Alpha Golf. The coordinates on in the orders. After than, command will be transfered to the combat fleets."

The smile finally wore the junior officer's features and he almost jumped from excitement. "And the supply ships?" he asked, adding a hasty "Sir."

Eskan waved his hand. "As usual. You are dismissed."

The man saluted smartly, perhaps a bit too much, and nearly sprinted out the door and down the metal corridors.

Eskan stod up and ran his hands through what remained of his hair. Avios?

*******************

One day later, at the Lindimese capital, Iova.

Kert Tirrew looked out his office window at the Gardens of the Blue House, the center of Lindim's government. By the people. Kert turned around and walked past his desk, ignoring both the economic and trade reports and the notes from his secretary reminding him where to sit at the inauguration today.

Thank the Sea Intry Fuego was re-elected. It means that Tre's influence doesn't extend so far as to... Kert shook his head and stopped that line of thought. Thinking about political intrigue! He was the Minister of Commerce, not the Intelligence Minister, as well as that might be. He shuddered, thinking of the Intelligence Minister. Tre. Tre, a woman who was utterly brilliant and completely stupid, believing in that Socialistc garbage. But she was the most cunning human he knew, Kert admitted; she was perfect for her post.

Except that Tre was planning a coup. That Kert was definite. It was common knowledge, the only question was not if, nor how, but when. When? Now. Soon.

Kert nearly slapped himself in the head. Stop thinking about that! He fiddled with his tie for a bit, before he gave up on the procrastinating and stepped outside his private office into the maws of his aides.

"Sir, sir! I've been thinking about moving you up to a different seat-"

"Tirrew, I've got the new draft of the Free Marketeering Act and the Con-"

"The Navy ships won't be arriving today for the ceremony, isn't that a shame?"

Tirrew waved them off and began to walk down the hall, intent on exchanging a few words with the Prime Minister before- he spun on his heels and silenced the aides with a look. "What about ships?"

A red-haired aide, unusual for a Lindimese, piped up. "The ships, with the planes that fly overhead? They're moving out somewhere, some training exercise or whatnot, and so..."

The aide talked on, but Tirrew was too busy with his own thoughts. Fuego herself said she liked the plane show, and she didn't mention military exercises at the last staff meeting and the only other person who may have ordered that was Poliy, but Poliy was a puppet of - "Dammit!" he nearly screamed, except the words only came out as a whisper. Tre. She was doing it. And she never failed.

Tirrew immediately raced down the hallways, amazed at how clam his thougths were, given what he just realized. He almost considered that was assuming too much, but no, he was right. But why the Navy? She had contorl of the Special Forces, she didn't even have to rip the nation apart with a full-scale civil war to do the job. Oh, right. That's why, with an extremely loyal Navy all away, she could stay at home and play. Calm.

He increased his speed to a sprint as he saw Fuego talking calmly with a Linit. He had to warn her. Wait, Linits? What is Tre going to do about them, any Linit could take on a Special Forces soldier and Linits were loyal to the Prime Minister, unlike the Intelligence-loyal Specials. Linits were also all female, and dressed in the peculiar traditional Lindimese outfit of a loose skirt over loose pants. Why was he thinking about this?

"Give up trying to slim down, Tirrew, you're too old for that," said Fuego, smiling and adjusting her formal sash. "Besides, you've got to get to your seat now. We can talk about the corporations later." She gave him a brief look on apology. "Sorry, but I'm really busy right now and-"

"Tre is going to-"

Fuego raised her eyebrows and gave her head a slight shake. "Later, Kert."

"Ma'am?" An aide walked in between them and began to the Prime Minister out. "Sorry, but we have to take care of certain matters now. We've got to get you seated before anyone else." The Prime Minister followed the aide outside and onto the awating inauguration podium.

The Minister of Commerce nearly cursed aloud.

"You've reallly got to control yourself, Mr. Tirrew," echoed a flat, almost bored voice behind him. He turned to see Tre step out from behind a door. The woman could not be human. She wore glasses all the time, and didn't even have a real name. A short woman built like a dancer, her black hair fell down only to her shoulders, against usual Lindimese customs. But the smile scared Tirrew. It was a normal, relaxed smile.

"You, are crazy. You can't force Socialism onto-" Tirrew sputtered before being cut off.

"Like I said, you must keep your mind on matters of Economy. You are completely wrong about my goals. I seek no coup. I do intend on attending the Prime Ministers ceremony today." She produced a glass of wine out of thin air and took a sip. "I'm most glad for her."

Tirrew almost snarled.

OOC: Read the news page on the Lindimese site for more info.

Tre watched calmly as Tirrew sulked off, and sighed, regretfully. And he was rather intelligent. But he would not stop her, he could not. The Lindimese people needed her.

Capitalizm? It was what kept the oppresed masses down, and the poor poor. That would soon change though. Unfortunate that Thy Garcs didn't win the elections, Socialism might have been achieved in a less bloody manner.

But he didn't, and Tre had changed her plans accordingly. And now Tirrew knew. Just as well. All with the Tao, maintain the balance. She walked outside, pulling a cellphone from her pocket and summoned a few Special Forces to remain near her. She didn't need distractions now.

A few ring tones later, a gruff man's voice answered the phone. "Marine Commander Ju."

"I need your Marines immediately at the end of the inauguration. They land down when Fuego steps off the podium," Tre asked simply. Behind her, she heard the inauguration begin, a few thousand citizens entering the Gardens, under the careful watch of the Linits. Linits. They would be dealt with, but it would be very awkward.

There was a pause on the other line, but it lasted only a second and was followed with a confirmation. Tre allowed herself a smile. She liked efficient humans.

"Thanks," she said, and hung up. She turned to the larger soldier beside her. "How many Linits are here?"

His voice was a blank slate, impossible to read behind his helmet and glasses. "Two hundred."

Tre nodded and turned back to the building. Two hundred. That would be difficult. Controlling the Navy had been alot easier. But she would prevail. By Lindim's Sea, she would. She always had.

Somewhere, there was a BUM. Poor man, he didn't realize the typhoon that was to consume Lindim.

#tagged by another former member of the IADF...

OOC: *bows* I am honored to be tagged, 5CN. It has been too long, and too tragic since the last gasp of the IADF.

I believe I have grown, since then, in both size and maturity. I hope the latter most of all.

A TAG for Schultarian International Interests.

OOC: Yes, I have seen this thread. Avios doesn't know about anything that's happening, yet, so I'll stay silent until the situation develops.

OOC: Do you have a map of your ports and nation and such?

SECURE TRANSMISSION:
TO: AVIOSCOM
FROM: LININTEL
#66873$ ur j0b es 2 sir pr3ss navy til coup d0n3 ++ j00 w1ll n0 wh3|\|


OOC: What better way to encrypt than through 1337-5p34|<? The message is translated as: "Your job is to supress the Lindimese Navy until the coup is complete. You will know when they arrive."

OOC: Waiting for maps... if none by tomorrow, I'll just improvise. Maybe even tonight.

OOC: At this time I am without any maps. Currently, I’m working on creating a new region/RPG that will have every member state mapped out, which will bare no relation to the “Earth” forums. (You’re welcomed to join and stake out your claim, too). All I have is a primitive example of what these maps will look like. This continent (or piece of one) is not really in the new RPG, but is just an example of what our planet will look like. I’ll post the Avioan section of it and add in some of my cities.

http://www.geocities.com/pelican_13/AviosMap.PNG

My naval fleet has also never been well defined. In a recent war, it was mostly used for bombardment (especially the battleship Hammer). Avioan allies, East Kirche and Microlaneia (off map) provided most of the defensive ships. The main Avioan port is outside of Neuheimat, while air bases are present around all major cities and have significant capabilities.

On board the L.V.S. Tenb, a Linc Fighter-class battlecruiser

Commander Vidente leaned against the reailing and glanced out at the sea, wondering if he could see the Aviosian battleship. The radar planes had detected an Aviosian battleship out here, many nautical miles east of Neuhiemat, all alone. As if a battleship needed an esort. Vidente shook his head and went back inside, grumbling to himself. He used to have command of a battleship, the last one Lindim had before it too, was decommissioned. Some government official must have decided it was too cost-ineffective or some beaurocratic bullshit.

Vidente snorted and leaned back onto a desk covered with maps. The old Lindimese battleships were used for missile tests now, and he saw one take three hits from an AS-4 until they crippled it.

An ensign tapped him on the shoulder. "Nun Doma wants to let you know the carriers have begun F-14 Harpooning of the ships at the Neuhiemat base."

Vidente nodded and smiled. Fuck it, his ships needed no armor. With AEIGIS and a full ECW suite, they could fuck up any battleship, inches of steel armor or not. "Launch the Tomahawks, and don't stop until that ship is ripped apart."

The ensign smiled and saluted. "Yes, sir."

Vidente went back outside and sighed. A group of Light Frigates, Loon-class, should be passing by soon, all ready for some ASW. Vidente hoped they got it.

***************

At Iova

Waiting to walk onto the balcony, Fuego felt like jumping about and crying with joy. As much as she liked to think she was a jaded realist, she knew she had always been an idealist. All her life she wanted to do something good, maybe be left in the history books as a great Prime Minister, and just make people's lives better. She almost believed she had done that.

Yes, she did give in a bit too much to the corporations recently, even more than her, the stauch capitalizt, would like. But that ws necessary. Now she could be sure that she go back to reducing the corporations political power, and shrinking the government even more.

The people elected her. Fuego ran her fingers of her ceremonial blue sash, and grinned. She had done right, she had made Lindim better.

A Linit stuck her head in the door. "Prime Minister? If you'd follow me," the Linit intoned, hand always near the gun in her belt. Fuego nodded and stood up, smoothing her robe.

"Lead the way, Jink." The Linit nodded and led Fuego out the doors and into the view of a cheering crowd, filled with signs and posters from the campaign like "Capitalizm Isn't Corruption." There were also the signs, of course, supporting the Socialist cause, but wasn't that what freedom of expression was about?

A few Linit stood in the balcony around her, poised to leap to the Prime Minister's defence, eyes scanning the crowd for the glint of a gun. The Lindimese High Wing Justice stood beside her, ready to take Fuego's oath again.

Fuego waved at the cheering crowd and approached the edge of the balcony. She needed no papers, her speeches came easily to her without memorization. A microphone was handed to her, and she flashed a brief grin at her staff behind her. Except Tre. So it happens today?

Fuego turned on the microphone, and the noise of the crowd seemed to have never existed. Only the cries of the birds over head could be heard.

"The Estanni were the greatest of civilizations. They had conquered science, they had diplomatic ties everywhere, and the greatest artists resided in their cities. But they fell. They fell when their citizens fell, and their citizens fell not out of a lack of spirit, nor from a lack of military might. Their citizens fell because they were cut off."

***************

On board the L.S.S. Sliding Current, an nuclear powered Endgame-class attack submarine

Erastii Filo looked at the active sonar, pinging off a small green indentifier on the screen. Damn, another sub, just off the bow of them. An easy enough target, but they wanted to get through to the carriers in port first. "Sir," he called out, "I've got a secure ping on a sub, probably nuclear attack, heading two, zero, zero, elevation angle zero. It's just sitting there."

The Rain Commander nodded. "Torpedoes, ready for firing."

"Flooding tubes!"

"Firing one and two?"

"Firing one and two!"

Two torpedoes exited the sub and flew towards the target.

***************

The Swimming Singer, an EN-22 (OOC: F-14) based off of the L.V.S. Nimerl

"Roger, descending to one Angel, and the jamming is... on!" Graj replied, glanced at the small LCD, displaying all active electronic systems. "I repeat, Foxtrot is descending-"

"Shut up, Singer, we already heard you," came the crackled reply of the radio.

Graj grinned and lifted his mouth piece up, as he leveled the plane off at less than an thousand feet. "Hey, Dancer, did I mention the jammer is-"

"Cut the radio spam out, guys," said a bored voice, from their squadron leader. "We've got our contacts coming in at twelve on the dot, a whole row of destroyers. Confirm your acquisition of targets."

"Acquired."

"Got 'em."

"Acquired, Alpha."

"Acquired."

"Take them."

Graj flipped the firing switch on and looked up at the glwoing red square in his HUD. "Launching." Two harpoons shot out from his wings and he pulled back on the stick.

"Spin your birds back to the mother, gentlemen, they have some nasty frigates, I hear."

OOC: And, by the way, there were several copies of the squadron.

At Iova

"...A government dedicated to its people, not just for the people, but of the people. The Lindimese people, people of freedom. Ellan nesi, yvenno elle rew." Intry Fuego stepped back and bowed to the crowd, which was near hysterical and pushing back the Island Guardsmen, who also seemed tempted to join the crowd in their acclamation. Fuego had to smile. She was very proud of her speech. The High Wind Justice stepped forward however, and the crowd's noise once again seemed to stop dead.

The High Wind turned towards Fuego and raised both his hands. Fuego bowed again and met his hands with hers. Together, they recited the Lindimese oath.

"Ti huy, Uni te huy blas fea Estanni redonnani. Estanni re te yuni erv bando."

The High Wind smiled and nodded, stepping back as Fuego again turned to the crowd. Her lips parted to smile, but- Fuego looked up and nearly screamed. An armada of Black Hawks swarmed around the Blue House, and Marines rappelled down long ropes, immediately quartering off and dispersing a panicked crowd. The Island Guardsmen dropped their weapons and walked with the meekly, overwhelmed by the force of the professional soldiers and confused by the idea of Lindimese Marines storming an inauguration.

Fuego wasn't, and neither were the Linits. Instantly, they had their guns drawn, submachine gun appearing from beneath skirts and knives in opposite hands. They ushered her back into the building, and for the first time in her life, Fuego heard guns fired at her. For some reason, though she felt very passive. Shock? Perhaps, but no matter she willingly followed the Linits through the building, the corridors filled with the screaming of the staff. And still Fuego felt numb except for one thought inside her head.

Tre?

***************

At a Marine base, several miles north of the inauguration.

"Move, move, move your ass!" screamed the colonel, ushering his men onto the armored Humvees, a whole row of them to accompany the "Suicidal Snakes" battalion of Marines. His men were streaming from their barracks, half-dressed into their combat uniforms, loading guns and grabbing ammo as they ran, a mixture of shock and anger on their faces. The colonel didn't blame them; the only reaction he had in the first few seconds to what he saw on the television were am mixture of curses at his counterpart in the "Rum Rush" battalion. Training exercise with some copters my ass. What the hell were you think Gafe?

The colonel sighed and grabbed his own helmet from one dropped by a rushing Marine. He would never know now. But sure as hell he would still get those son of a bitches, the traitorous bastards. He had never felt really patriotic until now, as he climbed on a Humvee and was handed an RH-171 by a solider.

"Sir?"

The colonel smiled grimly and took the assault rifle. "To the Blue House, roll!"

OOC: Being Understood, My Post is BUMPed. Waiting for Avios, and writing up a battle at Iova. Marines v.s. Marines and SF v.s. the Linits.

HIMS Terror, a Spice class submarine, was doing a routine patrol.
"Sir, we have a fleet of ships, heading Port of us."
"Watch them, if they head are way, tell me" Captain James Newport said.

Primary Tactical Center, Neuheimat Airbase

Alarm sirens drowned out the sound of engines starting and planes jetting into the air in a scramble mission from all runways. Deep inside the base’s tactical bunker, reports were coming in from the base and various ships of the Avioan Armed Forces.

“The Aachen has taken on too much water and is no longer seaworthy,” a tactical officer reported to the room in general.

“The Zwickau has been completely disabled,” came another report.

“We’ve lost contact with the submarine Cognition.”

“Knight fighter wing is now airborne and ready to engage.”

The warnings, damage reports, and enemy sighted notices just kept coming in. The base was in a fury of activity, setting up missile batteries and scrambling fighters. The base commander, General Enos, looked over the situation grimly.

“Crap,” he muttered indignantly, “where did they come from? Who do these filthy Lindianese think they are, raiding Avios?”

The Premier’s Compound, Aviagrad

“Everything’s been confirmed,” Secretary of the Military Ivoski reported as he slammed a manila folder down on a desk. Sitting nearby was Premier Pelican.

“Do I need to look at it?”

“Most likely not. We need to prepare a counter offensive. Anti-aircraft emplacements are being set up and our fighters are getting airborne.”

A simple black phone rung at the desk and was quickly intercepted by the Premier.

“Go ahead,” he ordered coldly.

“It has happened in the Senate,” was the reply from the other line. The Premier didn’t stop to talk much longer and hung up.

“What was that?” inquired the Defense Secretary.

“The war’s official now, not that that’s a surprise. Now then, what are our options?”

“Right now we’ve got ships being rescued and hastily repaired left and right. Our fighters patrol over the major cities, and I don’t think it would be advisable to have them attack the hostile fleet now.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, frankly,” Ivoski began, “they’ll be expecting it. We can’t afford to lose our air force now… or ever. Let’s get ships out of the other ports and intercept their carriers.”

“Very well,” the Premier replied simply.

“And, of course, we could launch a ground-based missile salvo,” suggested Ivoski. Avios had missiles at all its air bases, both long and intermediate range.

“Again, that seems almost predictable,” noted the Premier.

“Not necessarily. We can launch a few right at their fleet while at the same time firing off longer-range, incendiary weapons back at Lindim.”

“And we can hit them? I mean, surely not all missiles will make it to their carriers, but those striking at the mainland?”

“We should be able to, comrade. We’ll target production centers and military bases, and possibly some of their capitalist commercial centers. Our long-range missiles can fly hundreds of miles north and south of their fleet while their fleet deals with our shorter-ranged missile.”

“Alright, let’s do it. I want to see some retribution,” the Premier answered before the phone again rang.

Kaltwasser Military Base

A hastily encoded message came through the secure military network to the base command station. With the missile launch orders confirmed, silos stationed around the base began opening. In the control center, which resembled the one at Neuheimat base with all its command and communications equipment, the missile launch patterns were being laid out.

“Our arsenal will deliver retribution by following this path,” a technical officer said while pointing to a digitally-displayed map. “The Lindimese fleet is here, significantly farther south, so their AEGISes should be of no hindrance.”

“Lieutenant, prepare for launch,” the base commander barked an order to another officer at a control station.

“Yes, sir,” came the standard military reply as the Lieutenant reached for a sinister looking button.

“God, I hope this works,” muttered another officer.

“Launch codes confirmed. Engage! Engage!”

The ground seemed to rumble as dozens of long-ranged missiles blasted off into the air. An unsettling smoke fell over the base as the missiles left the ground for the unknown horizon. The populace of the city of Kaltwasser no doubt watched the long tubes determined to bring certain death to the enemy.

Winkelleburg Military Base

“Engage,” came to callous order from the southern Avioan base’s commander. What had transpired moments ago to the north happened in the same way. More missiles screeched towards the heavens, this time following a path keeping south of the Lindimese battle fleet.

Neuheimat Military Base

With the raid over, tugboats and repair teams hastily set out around the harbor to the maimed destroyers and frigates. Mobile missile launchers were deployed around the base, both short and long range, although none certainly could reach Lindim with their payloads. Nevertheless, they had their part in this plan, and spread over almost an hour, they shot out missile-by-missile, one-by-one, to the Lindim fleet, each a message of Avios’s perseverance and determination to being defeat to its foe. More or less, they were to distract from the long-range warheads.

The Premier’s Compound, Aviagrad

The nation’s leaders gathered in an opulent meeting room within the compound. Everyone sat at a long oak desk with the Premier at the head.

“I have all the diplomatic reports on the nation of Lindim,” a man dressed in a smart business suit began.

“That’s great, Jerry,” the Premier cut him off, “but I’m more concerned with our military action right now.”

“Well, it might be important that they’ve just re-elected Fuego, who has some socialist policies.”

“Is this or is this not a war against communism?” inquired another of the cabinet members.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it was. The capitalists just need something else to fill their despicable wallets from,” answered another cabinet member.

“The matter at hand is our military response,” Ivoski cut in. “We have missiles on their way to their homeland. Hopefully we’ll start conflagrations in their bases and factories.”

“But that does not hamper their ability to make war!” angrily retorted one of the political elite.

“We’ve begun to consider getting together the Hammer battle group. We still have plenty of ships intact at other bases, and our Microlaneian and East Kirchen allies are ready with their navies. I even hear East Kirche lost a ship at Neuheimat,” answered Ivoski.

“But this won’t be like the war of independence over Foxstenikopolis. Then we didn’t have to fight a huge naval war. The Lindimese navy is highly formidable,” interjected another well-decorated military officer.

“We should still form a fleet,” rebutted Ivoski. “Our Microlaneian allies have the ships we need to take out their massive aerial counterstrike and East Kirche and Avios can attack from long range.”

“I want a little bit more than that,” Pelican commented. “I want to form another fleet around Winkellburg, possibly around the battleship Sickle, and sneak over to Lindim. We’ll shell them just like-.”

“But, sir, that might leave us too undefended,” noted Ivoski. “A fleet able to make it all that way would have to be quite large, and we need more ships to protect our waters. Submarines, particularly.”

“I say we leave our defense in the hands of the reformed Hammer battle group and the Avioan air and missile forces. We can’t win a naval war, correct?”

“Well, we can win, of course, but Lindim is certainly more naval-oriented than we are.”

“If we can’t attack their fleet directly, then, let’s wreck them where it won’t be as costly to us,” suggested Premier Pelican. “Just make sure our anti-air defenses can repel another air raid for their carriers.”

“Will do, comrade,” confirmed Ivoski.

“Oh, and Ivoski,” Pelican began, “make sure our ICBM shield is at full alert.”

“It never went off alert after the last war.”

L.V.S. Nimerl

Eskan glanced at the screens anxiously, as the sporadic barrages of missile strikes flared green on the LCDs. It wasn't these strikes that worried him, the fellets defence systems had only missed a few and those stray missiles barely did any damage. No, what worried him was what these firing were hiding. They had to be hiding something. But what? Damn it all!

"Sir, sonar and radar sweeps continue to pick up no unknown contacts." A officer stood next to him, catching the nervousness of the Admiral.

Eskan nodded. "Continue normal patrols and pull the submarines in a tight perimeter scan. I want consistent Harpoon barrages and all guns on any ship we can see that's still floating." The officer saluted and began to walk away when Eskan added, "Oh, and Lieutenant? Order cruise missile strikes against that base, as many as we can spare. Particulary target communications. That's all, Lieutenant."

The officer walked away and Eskan turned back to series of green glows. I need some coffee.

***************

Iova
Tirrew, crouching low, peeked around the edge of the corridor and pulled his head back immediately, shuddering. Gunfire echoed in the background and he could still hear the panicking government officials and staff shouting and running about. But he ignored them. Special Forces soldiers were around the corner. Not usually a bad thing, but now that there was a rebellion and they were for Tre...

"Rebellion in Lindim." He still couldn't believe his lips were forming the words. Lindim. A perfectly modern, democratic nation, clam and prosperous. And now was in a state of rebellion. And the Minister of Commerce was peeking around corners and worried about being shot by Lindimese Marines. Tirrew ripped off his jacket and thre wit on the ground. He was tired of running around. Across the hall he could see a door open to the parking lot, and his car was only one hundred feet away, a black sedan, that could whisk him away. The only obstacle was the highly-trained soldiers loitering in the adjacent hallways, ready to cut down anyone he tried to escape.

They're searching for Fuego, he realized, shifting his weight over to the less tired leg, They want to get her. But the Linits are protecting her. Where are the Linits for that matter? Why do I care? Tirrewgrimaced and pulled his tie off. He was going to run. Focusing on his car, and took a deep breath and-

Nearly screamed when he noticed the sudden appearance of two females behind him, dressed in blue silk skirts and each carrying a pistol and knife. Two Linits. They motioned for him to be silent and turned to each other, making frantic hand gestures that were meaningless to Tirrew. They must have come to a decision, because the taller stepped foward and made a small coughing sound.

Tirrew nearly screamed again. The soldiers around the corner had replied to the cough with asudden silence, filled only by the cocking of weapons and the soft padding of footsteps. Oh shit, oh shit, of fucking dear Sea... He scrambled backwards, past the Linits, and lay falt agains the wall, holding his breath. He could hear the thobbing of his arteries in his neck, but the Linits remained strangely clam. Though both crouched down, and did not move no matter how loud the footsteps became.

They're coming, oh shit, three, two one- And two soldiers peek around the hallways corners. What happened next scared Tirrew more than anything. The Linits seemed to grow up, smoothly bring their knives intothe necks of the soldiers and pulling he weapons from the suddenlly dead hands. They fired off a few round to the other soldiers down the hall, and then disappeared beyond Tirrew's sight. He heard a few more sharp reports of gunfire, and shout, and suddenly there was silence. The Linits reappeared, and then went back the way they came, save the blood the speckled their uniforms.

Tirrew waited until they passed and looked around the corner. He saw ten dead soldiers laying about, blood smears from a few running down the walls. One soldier appeared to have replaced one eye with a knife. Tirrew wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, as he walked calmly, yet warily, down the corridor. But instead his eyes were wet.

For the safety of Lindim, a Lindimese soldier was killed by another. Lindim was killing itself.

OOC: I'll post a Marine battle in a few hours, and reveal what happened to Fuego meanwhile. And the Aviosian missiles will land. In a few hours.

Bringing Up My Post, I Bought Undervalued Magical Ponies.

At Iova

Corporal Mav couldn't contain his excitement. He was going into battle, he was going to get some action. Against fellow Marines, but they were traitors and had attacked the Prime Minister and the government. The bastards deserved what they were getting. Gun out the window of the armored Humvee he rode in, he glanced up front as the driver swung around a sharp turn and accelerated at the site of a twisted and mangled gate leading to the Blue House.

The machine gunner from up top thumped the top of the roof, shouting, “We've got company!”

Mav felt a dull thud and another one, as the Humvee bounced off the broken gate and landed in the Blue House gardens, right in front of a group of Marines and Special Forces. Traitors.

“Weapons loose!” shouted the Staff Sergeant, and Mav agreed. He felt the rattle as the machine gun up top swiveled around and ripped into the Marines and began firing out the window, aiming wherever he heard gunfire. Behind him, he heard a dozen other Humvees erupt into the gardens, spewing gunfire from all windows and sides.

The driver spun the vehicle around and back into a group of Marines before going off around the Blue House. “Fuckin' frag!” Mav heard from the Humvee's gunner before there was an explosion of dust and the gunner slid down, blood rushing from his mangled face.

“Shit!” the driver, their staff sergeant cursed, and picked up the radio. “Lead has a man down, gunner down in lead! Driver also has minor shrapnel to the wrist. We're heading round east of the building, trying to pick the Prime Minister up. Need some followers, here.”

Another group of Marines ran from behind a tree in the blue house and Mav fired off a burst, getting on of them down. “Holy shit man, we're killing fellow Marines,” he said to himself, loading another magazine into his RH-171. Then he noticed the blood on his chest from the dead gunner. “I'm taking Grad' spot!” he shouted, handing his rifle to the driver and climbing up throw the top. He grabbed the handles of the gun and swung them around, wincing at the rattle. This, he thought, bearing on a group of Marines with a grenade launcher, is power. He opened fire and saw the trees and bushes around the Marines rip apart, the soldiers falling down into the dirt. “Fuckin' A, man!”

“Cowboy, we've got some black SUVs coming down the exit lane right in front of us.”

***************

Tre allowed herself another smile, beneath the boiling sun. She could view the entire fighting from her vantage point on top of the Blue House, and from what she could see Fuego was still somewhere inside the building. The Special Forces soldiers had encountered no resistance, with the Linits all seeming to vanish – that was one thing that bothered her, the two hundred Linits disappearing – but otherwise, everything was under control. She glanced at her watch and smiled. Right now, the Lindimese Navy would be fighting a fool's fight with Avios. She didn't care much who won the fight, but with the navy away it would be much easier to play.

Beside her, Poliy, the Defence Minister, was in a heated discussion with the Marine colonel, Gafe over, various battle plans for taking the other Marine bases on. Poli was an easily manipulated fool, but he was Socialist and useful.

“Ma'am?” Tre turned to the ugly, but happy face of Gafe.

“Yes, colonel?” she replied.

“We've two set of cars attempting to exit the premises, and our force are unable to-”
Tre grimaced and raced to the side of the roof, looking both East and North. A single black sedan was pulling out of the parking lot, while a group of SUVs were making a run for another exit. But the Marines, the loyal ones she supposed, seemed to be intent on stopping the SUVs, so all that Tre had to do was stop the other. Simple. “Gafe, hand me the rifle.”

Gafe stood there, his mouth hanging open. Stupid man.

“The sniper rifle.”

Gafe stood in place a bit longer, but Tre leveled him with a glare from beneath her glasses and he nodded anxiously and grabbed the rifle. Handing it to her, he stepped back as she knelt down and placed the scope against her eye. She brough it to bear upon the sedan, which had passed all the other cars in the parking lot and was racing for the exit.

“Breathe one, out-” she mumbled to herself, and pulled the trigger.

***************

Tirrew heard a strange sound from the tires and all the sudden his car was spinning around and flipping over. “What the-”

***************

Mav aimed at the first SUV, low, and fired, expending the while round shredding the tires of the SUVs apart. He raised his fist in victory when somebody grabbed him and he felt himself yanked back into the Humvee. His feeder with the rounds was screaming at him, and in his haze Mav could only pull out a few words. “You shot at the fucking Prime Minister you....”

***************

Fuego was ducked down in the seat as the Linits drove the SUV down the road, telling her the exit was straight ahead. “We'll be at safehouse in a minute, ma'am,” the driver said. Fuego nodded, and reminded herself these were the best protectors one could have in all of Lindim. There was no reason to-

WHAM WHAM WHAM! The driver gave a shout and Fuego felt the entire car flip over, rolling onto the ground when her head struck the roof and everything went dark.

***************

At a shopping mall in western Booni.

Winwt was very happy. Her mother was taking her to go shopping this morning. They were going to get a puppy. Winwt always wanted a puppy. She wanted one with brown spots on a soft, white fur. Her mommy said she could get one like that. Winwt skipped towards the mall excitedly, as her mother yelled at her about cars. Winwt didn't care she was getting a puppy.

Suddenly, Winwt heard screaming from above. It sounded like a very large bee. Winwt look up. What was leaving that white trail in the sky?

***************

The L.V.S. Nimerl

Eskan stared at the television, his hands shaking with both rage and sheer fright. The reporter has a camera trained on the Blue House grounds and was describing the attack on the inauguration earlier. Marines attacking... Marines? The Prime Minister? What was happening over there? Why was he here?

A junior officer ran into the room, his cheeks unusually flushed, and gave q uick glance to the TV. “Umm, I see you saw that sir, but that's not all.”

Eskan moaned and rubbed his face. “What could be worse?”

“We have news of missile strikes against Lindimese factories, military bases and... shopping malls and commercial centers.”

Eksan dropped his cup, the glass shaking and water spilling onto the deck. Though the junior officers words continued, he heard nothing else. “Apparently the Aviosians launched more than what hit, but the Kammor system successfully destroyed...”

Two enemies, from without and within. Which one do we fight. Which one do we fight?

OOC: Bump for international attention. C'mon people, I like this RP. It's my best yet!

HIMS Terror:

"Sir, we have fighting Port of us by the fleet, it seems to be a Lindim, fleet sir." The man by the radar said to his captain.
"Right then. Were is the communication officer?" Newport asked to everyone in the command of the submarine.
"He seems to be in his office sir" one crew member said.
"Thank you, if anything happens get me at all costs, other wise don't do anything, I'll only be five minutes." Newport said to everyone.
He made his way down to the communication office, were the communication officer and team lived. Once he had got the officer they went to the communication room. They made there way to the computer, were Newport sent a message to the ministry of defence.
He made his way back up to the command.
"Men, what's happened?"
"Sir, we seem to have a surface to surface missile heading Port of us, they have gone over the Lindim fleet" the radar man said.
"Do not surface get the Spearfish torpedo's on stand by just in case."
"Yes sir", one of the crew said. So far nobody had seemed to notice them.

Ministry of Defence:

"Minister message from HIMS Terror" one of the staff from the minister of defence told him.
The minister of defence was a quick young man, many people said that he could be a great leader and that in polls people were safe in his hands. It was a shame that, looking at the election it wasn't going to well, it looked like the free party were going to win. But he had more important thing to do at he moment, he needed to see what was going on with HIMS Terror.

From: HIMS Terror To: Minster of Defence Re: Urgent CC: Royal Navy HQ.
Sir, we seem to have encountered some sort of war between Lidim and Avios, Lindim seems to have got a fleet and are attacking Avios,also we have detected missiles heading for Lidim, from Avios.
We are not doing anything at the moment we are staying low until orders, we are off the coast of Avios, the Lindim fleet are to are Port. But we have for self defence got two Spearfish Torpedo's on stand by.
Both nations don't seem to have noticed are presence,
Captain James Newport of HIMS Terror
"Well" the defence minister said, "I better get the PM and the cabinet".

ooc: please, more understand bagels

OOC: BUMP for Avios. Mattvia, I'll respond to your post and Avios's at the same time. Makes it easier for me to co-ordinate the plot. I do have a one-track mind, after all.

ooc: please, more understand bagels??????

After the meeting with the PM, it had been decided that, HIMS World, a Power class assault ship which was near Kal Meer, which was a Mattvian military base, like modern day Falkland Islands. Would dock there, pick up 4 Chinook HC2, also pick up 200 infantry, then at moments notice they could get to Lindim or Avios in about 23 hours.

Private message:

To: PM Fuego of Lindim From: The Mattvian government Re: HIMS World:
PM, we are aware that your nation is in turmoil, we have a proposition to make.
The Assault ship HIMS World is near by, armed with infantry and Chinooks.
They are about 23 hours away, what we could do is have the ship sail off the cost, the Chinooks could then pick you up, take you back to HIMS World.
Were we could take you back to a secure area, whether that be, Kal Meer, or a Lindim colony, what do you say?
PM William Holdown of Mattvia.

(Picture of HIMS World:
http://img136.exs.cx/img136/6492/1080829493t5tf.jpg
)

??????

Please, More Understand Bagels. PMUB. BUMP.

OOC: Mattvia, as the PM has just blacked out and will be kidnapped soon, she could not respond. However, it would be nice for you to stage a rescue attempt, with help from the loyal Marines and such. Sure, go ahead, stage a rescue attempt.

TELEGRAM TO MATTVIA

This is a loyal Lindimese general, Nuhmi, asking for help. I would be happy to work with you to rescue the PM. We believe she has been taken by traitor Special Forces to an unknwon location. More information will be relayed as we learn it. Thank you.

His Majesty's Submarine Swordfish remained hidden underneath the calm ocean surface, making revolutions for 22 knots. The latest attack submarine, she was extremely quiet, despite being given a nuclear reactor over the experimental drives in development. She was commanded by Captain Henry Pierce, an experienced captain of 46 years, 26 of which were with the Royal Navy. His crew was small, only 135 men, but they were exceedingly well-trained. In addition, he had tendered with a supply ship and taken on a contingent of SIAR (Secret Insertion And Removal) troops and would now be deploying them in conjunction with Mattvia, once his authorities managed to contact their government.

***

Attn: Mattvian Minister of Defence

I am contacting you in secret so that we could perhaps coordinate our assistance to the nation of Lindim. We currently have a submarine en route to the nation of Lindim in order to deposit a special operations team that will primarily ocnduct intelligence on the developing situation. The submarine, called Swordfish will be at these coordinates [insert coordinates since I have no map to work off of, but suffice to say a coastal city in chaos so that troops can be inserted without notice]. In addition we have the HMS Yorke carrier battle group en route to the area, it shall take approximately three days (NS time) to arrive in the area, at which point it would be more than capable of providing assistance and protection to the HIMS Power.

Personally, I think out first goal should be the elimination of Lindim's means of control and communication. Ordinarily we would recommend the retrieval of Prime Minister Fuego, but I feel that she does more for the nation being held in captivity than being rescued. If her people know she has been taken prisoner in a bloody coup, I would suspect the people would be more resistant to the usurper. And since my government wants to do as little collateral damage as possible, we feel that allowing the anger of the civilian population to be directed at the organizers of the coup is better than say, blasting coup headquarters with cruise missiles. That said, I would advise that we first take out satellites and communication towers being used by the rebellion. We have extremely high altitude fighters ready to deploy with anti-satellite missiles.

Of course, it may also be useful to learn what sort of countermeasures the rebels have at their disposal. Any sort of intelligence you may have on Lindim weapons technology would be greatly appreciated.

However, these are just the opinions of the Commonwealth government, and we mean not to act on them without the consent of our partners in this military operation.

Daniel Blair
Minister of Defence

***

Lieutenant Yegeny Ilshov peered into the barrel of his AR-28 MkII pulse rifle. It was clean, as it should be. He had no doubt that at this point it would be used soon. The Swordfish was on her way to Lindim, and his team of SIARs would be let off some coastal city. His plan was to come in at night, hopefully one with overcast skies, and sneak into the city. There, he and his team would begin to conduct reconaissance on the state of affairs in the nation, and hopefully meet up with loyal troops and plan with them an effective counter-attack.

Private Gary Barnes sat on the floor, cleaning his own weapon, but existed more in a trance that Ilshov, contemplating the complexities of the mission. It was to be his first combat operation, unlike most of his team, and so he fretted everything. Attempting to rectify whatever could go wrong. Barnes knew something bad was going to happen.

Iova

Tirrew groaned as he forced his legs out of the car, the bright, shining metal of the chassis cutting deep into his skin. His mind was filled with pain; dully he wondered why he couldn't move his legs.

Taking a deep, ragged breath, he coughed up some blood and pushed his arms one more time, memories of crew back in college running through his head. Pain is weakness leaving the body, the body's way of growing.

Suddenly he felt, or rather, heard, a ripping, and he realized he was laying outside the now charred wall of the Blue House with one leg now only have of what it was. "Oh my Sea," he moaned and tried, feebly, to push himself up.

Rolling over into the middle of the street, his vision began to cloud and he thought that maybe he was imagining the roar of a helicopter over him...

***************

Tre threw down the rifle and turned to the colonel Gafe, who was now staring at her with a look of horror and amazement on his face. "Get your Marines to get Fuego out of one of those SUVs. Now!" she snapped, and turned away to see Tirrew, bleeding, crawl onto the street. She moved to pick up rifle when she threw herself down and laid falt on the ground.

A helicopter hovered over Tirrew and a machine gun sprayed across the roof, bullets filling Poliy and Gafe. The two men crumpled as Tre rolled over to them. She grabbed Gafe's radio, and rolled to the stairs, the helicopter's machine gun still spraying over the top of the Blue House. SHe managed to get the door open, and crawled down inside. Once at the bottom of the flight of stairs, she leaned against a wall and flipped the radio on.

"All squads, grab Fuego from the SUVs on the building's east side at any cost. Relay her to point Viola."

She flicked the radio back off and sighed. After a moment's consideration, she suddenly became various angry at herself. Of course, the Linits had gotten the rest of the government officials out! No matter. If they try to rescue Fuego, they'll have to contend with their equals, the Special Forces. Enough to buy me more time.

***************

"Shit, exit the vehicle now, we've got some bastards of Marines coming up on the other side!"

Mav wasted no time in following the drivers orders, he just grabbed his gun and leaped out the top of the Humvee, hitting and rolling ont eh ground in one movement. He leaped back up just in time to see their humvee get his with an gernade.

"M-203 north!"

Mav looked up and saw a squad of Marines behind a group of bushes, one of them loading another grenade into his gun. Mav pressed his rifle against his shoulders and crouched low, working his way up around the trucks to flank the Marines. They didn't appear to nice him; another grenade went up and exploded in the air. He could hear the cries of several squadmates behind him.

Mav flicked his gun mode to "Burst" and stood up slowly, iron sights on the grenadier's chest. He let loose a shot, and continued firing into the group until they all lay still. Suddenly Mav started crying. He had killed fellow Marines.

He sat down on the ground and threw his helmet off, even as gunfire erupted all around him. Shouts filled his ear, eventually another Marines ran up to him, finger on the trigger.

"You, you Loyal?"

Mav considered this, then nodded.

The Marine nodded and lowered his gun. "They got the Prime Minister man, those fuckin' assholes."

Mav smiled. At least he hadn't killed her.

***************

L.V.S. Nimerl

Eskan finally nodded to himself. He was in the right, this time. He beckoned over a missile officer and gave the man a curt nod. "Five hundred cruise missile strikes against all military bases we can reach. Take out fueling and communication systems. Just don't" - and Eskan's voice choked on this - "hit any civilian areas." The officer saluted and walked off, unquestioningly.

Eskan let his head fall. He was getting to old for war. They attacked civilians!

***************

L.S.S. Sliding Current

Filo closed his eyes, and blocked out all the sound from the sub.
Fill your head with the buzz...

The headphones buzzed slightly, but in his concentration Filo heard another background noise. A soft throbbing, unsteady, but perfect.

Taking his headphones off he yelled for the XO. "Ma'am, I've got a sub off our star, bearing maybe around three, one, three. It's probably detected us, we're not exactly in stealth mode. Our engines-"

The XO cut him off with her hands and folded her arms. Filo waited patiently for her decision. He could wait, it was all he did. Wait for noise. And he had found it.

She broke out of her reverie and look back at Filo with her dark brown eyes. "Aviosian?"

She hook his head. "No ma'am, the signature is definitely not Aviosian. It's not anything I've heard."

The XO nodded tightly and walked back up to the command room of the sub. A few minutes later, he heard an announcement over the intercom. "The Current is going into quiet mode. You know the protocol, no noise unless necessary, and even then, don't do it." The intercom clicked off, and Filo heard the stirrings as the sub bgean to slow sink. Ballasts were filling up, they were going down.

Filo smiled; he loved it when the Slidding Current laid a trap. They would appear to fall of the map, the opposing sub would pass over them, and then a course of action could be decided.

OOC: Oh, hey Azazia. That sub I mention in my post wasn't yours, I didn't see your post until after I made mine. All communication you attempt with the Lindimese government will probably be directed to Minister of Commerce Kert Tirrew or Sand General Nuhmi. They can relay you maps (Lindim is wehre Indonesia would be and I have a map on my website) and information on the rebels equipment. Since the rebels are led by the Intelligence Minister, expect them to have the same equipment as any modern army, and be dressed as normal Lindimese Marines, which they actually are. If you need more info, I will be happy to assist you. This RP is rather complicated and large. ;)

The Senate of Microlaneia held an emergency meeting to discuss the situation in its close ally, Avios. By a nearly unanimous vote, war was declared on the hostile nation of Lindim. A large contingent of the Microlaneian fleet set sail shortly thereafter, bound for the Avioan port of Winkellburg. Upon arrival, the ships will be turned over to the military command of Avios, while still proudly flying their Microlaneian flags.

The Senate of Microlaneia held an emergency meeting to discuss the situation in its close ally, Avios. By a nearly unanimous vote, war was declared on the hostile nation of Lindim. A large contingent of the Microlaneian fleet set sail shortly thereafter, bound for the Avioan port of Winkellburg. Upon arrival, the ships will be turned over to the military command of Avios, while still proudly flying their Microlaneian flags.

Are you a... puppet? If not, I apologize, it's just I don't like using puppets as allies.

OOC: Bump, without a clever thing to type.

"Comrade Prime Minister! Prime MINISTER!!" bellowed an aide to the Prime Minister's bedroom door. A giggle sounded from within.

"WHAT?!" he screamed back, a sound not unlike that of a nuclear explosion played at double speed. "WHAT THE HELL IS IT?!"

"An urgent message from our liaison with the OMP, sir!" shouted the aide, quivering slightly.

A growl emanated from behind the door.

"Get downstairs, I'll be there in five."

The aide got, rapidly, downstairs.

Marcus Jones sipped at his mug of tea, a filthy temper running his thought processes, a string of expletives proceeding through his head, as he sat at the table in his office, The mug's ring-mark gleamed under the bright lights, while the floor creaked above him as Lucy went about something or other. At the thought of her, Jones' irritation merely intensified. He shook his head and concentrated on what he was being told.

"...and that's the situation...um...sir?"

"Could you run that past me again?" Jones smiled with false sweetness.

The aide sighed. “Right. At 2:20 we received a message from our representative at the OMP, Rear-Admiral Vasiliy Kurichev. He was informing us of a…situation, developing in Lindim.

“That situation runs something like this: a fair portion of the Lindimese Fleets, about half, was tricked into making an attack on the nation of Avios, which lies somewhat to the north of the Lindimese islands. This attack was a pretty strong one, and was instigated by, we believe, elements who are rebelling against the current regime.”

“Pretty high-up elements, to command an entire navy,” replied Jones thoughtfully.

“We have reason to believe that person or persons in the government and military are behind these events,” chipped in NSB Chief MacDiarmid. “They exhibit an unusual degree of organisation, not characteristic of terrorists or other rebel groups.”

“Quite. To continue, the rebellion seems to have caused quite a stir, because the Aviosians replied with a large missile attack on Lindim, attacking not only military targets, but also civilian shopping centres and similar targets. Unsurprisingly, this has angered the Lindimese not a little.

“Why we don’t know the full situation, it appears that the Lindimese Fleet was preparing to withdraw, having heard about the problems at home, and make a peace with Avios, when they heard about the missile strikes. From what we know, they’re not engaged in battle with Avios. To make things worse, our man has informed us that another nation appears to be intervening to aid Avios.”

“How does he know all this?” asked Jones. “Surely he’s just our diplo-man there.”

“Correction: he may be a diplomat, but he has some knowledge of intelligence,” supplied MacDiarmid smoothly. “Besides, he’s on the grapevine like all of us. It seems he may even have had words with some Lindimese Fleet personnel.”

“So he’s in contact with them?”

“Probably.”

Jones considered, letting the germ of an idea grow in his head. “Mac, or someone, get onto him and see if you can get him to speak with a Lindimese Fleet representative. Where’s he based?”

“Lindim, sir. He came there as a tourist, to see what it’s like. Renting a room in a hotel, sir.”

“Jesus…well, tell him all the same. We need up-to-date information. And somebody get me Kazakov.”

OOC: Haha, I liked that post DPUO! Hard to live up to something like that. But sure, here's the representative, though I wish your diplomat could see Lindim in better conditions. The beaches are wonderful. :D

Iova, the Entraret Hotel

Carnl Deo dashed across the street, weaving through the swerving cars of panicked citizens and tourists. He thought he could here the distant counds of gunfire, but no, the capital was too far away for that. What was real, however, was the summons he had to the Entraret, a hotel catering to foreign tourists. They're gonna have trouble with business after this. Actually, they probably will have an easier time. Damn, I don't get that kinda thinking. Wait, concentrate, this is a very important ally. And communist. That makes it trickier.

He pushed through a mob of students on a field trip, the excited talking of the males alternating witht he gigles of the girls. Kids. Squeezing through into the even tighter packed lobby, he somehow managed to secure an elevator to himself and pushed a button labeled, "Conference Rooms." The doors dinged closed smoothly on a teenage girl. Carnl smiled.

When the elevator stopped rising, Carnl adjusted his green dress uniform and smoothed his orange hair down, suddenly wishing he had kept it to regulation. This was a Rear-Admiral he was meeting. Of the DPUO. And did Lindim need the help right now or what. Stupid traitor Marines.

He walked down the hallways and finally reached the conference room. 201A. It was amazing how hotels still functioned when a city was ripped apart. He opened the door and walked in smoothly. "Good afternoon sir, I'm First Lieutenant Carnl Deo," he said, offering his hand.

Kurichev kept looking out of his open window at the mess outside his hotel, abstractedly thinking about what might happen in the future, wondering what effect his message might have had on his political masters, and generally lounging in a largely carefree manner, waving to people idly. When Deo entered, he pushed himself off the window-ledge and turned around. His face bore the marks of age, for he was in his fifty-seventh year, but it still looked as tough as it had done back in 1973, when he had been running his little patrol-boat around the trecharous waters of the inner passages. A scar ran along the back of his right hand, which became prominent as he extended it to meet Deo's. He raised a crooked smile.

"Howdy there, Lieutenant." He still smiled when he heard the Americanised form, typically drawled languidly, in contrast to his own clipped, very British, tone of speech. "I suppose you're here to tell me I ought to be getting out of here, eh?" He snapped his head round as his laptop bleeped at him. "'Scuse me a minute. Looks like my employers have finally got off their arses and replied...ah, yes."

He read the message quickly, face hardening. When he had finished, he deleted it, put the laptop carefully away, and turned to the Lieutenant.

"It seems that either you're equipped with clairvoyance, or you're all rather quicker off the mark than we are. I've been ordered to liaise with the Lindimese Navy in my capacity as resident man from my nation here. All sounds rather fun, I must say, but how are we supposed to do much liaising in the middle of this?"

ooc: just a minor edit, an earlier post said a CBG was three days away, I was assuming major transit for the worst, but since you're nation is in the Pacific, as is mine, it shouldn't be more than one NS day.

IC:
The HMS Yorke sailed steady southward, keeping pace with her more than speedy escorts, consisting of two nuclear-powered heavy-battle cruisers, six destroyers (three anti-air detail, three ASW detail though all equally capable of both), six frigates (ASW and anti-air detail), and further out four attack submarines. The carrier maintained an air arm of 105 aircraft as well as a dozen anti-ship missiles (ooc: all these specs I have on request, for right now too tech heavy will detract from the story). The battle cruisers were heavy warships, each maintaining over 100 vertically launched missiles of assorted anti-ship, air, and cruise missile capability. The destroyers maintained a similar mixture but of only a mere sixty. The frigates even less, at thirty missiles a piece. The submarines, like the Swordfish ran near silent at high-speeds. Virtually undetectable. The Yorke battle group was certainly something to contend with.

Admiral Sir Charles Atkinson commanded the battle group, and although he had not been engaged in active conflict in several years, he was more than skilled at large fleet engagements. However, this was not to be his mission, his was to provide support to the Lindim government through aerial bombardment of rebel positions. He glanced down at a map of Lindim that intel had provided, "Lieutenant Varshow, please send an encrypted message to Sand General Nuhmi requesting intelligence for targeting the rebel communication and control centers. Also, any information on which bases are within rebel hands could be of value. I intend on first attempting to cut off any chance of the rebels resupplying at bases within their control. Finally, see how much of their navy and airforce he has in control. I'd rather not have to destroy my counterparts down the road or be destroyed by some airheads. That is all Varshow."

The communications officer rushed off to transmit the message to Nuhmi, while Atkinson turned his attention to the air combat officer, Lieutenant Smithe. "Prepare to launch continuous air patrols, maximum range. Send up a radar birdand let's keep tabs on whatever the hell may be going on above the skies in Lindim."

On the second and third flight decks (the Yorke is a trimaran carrier operating with three flight decks) Azrael stealth fighter/interceptors began to take off, flying without instruments to cut back on EM signatures, guided by the Watchdog aircraft that operated an air arm radar reaching 400 km out and guided Azazian planes through encrypted direct-link navigation and weapons guidance and targeting information.

***

Under the sea...

Pierce scatched his beard. He hated the damn thing, but it always grew because of the damn length of these missions. There was the option of shaving, he was an officer, but the grisly look seemed to be thought of as one of distinction among the men, so he kept the bloody thing. And he scratched it. Often.

Turning his attention to less-irritating matters he read a report of long-held two distant submarine contacts; at the long distances, contact was intermittant until one dropped off completely, But without sounds of explosions or implosions, it was more likely that the sub either drifted out of range or went dead in the water. And if that were the case, then someone out there was a threat.

"Navigation," Pierce called, "lower speed to 10 knots. We'll be dead in the water, but still moving. Move us closer to the northern coast of Lindim. Weps, prepare a surface probe for launch. Task it to head back in the direction of our two contacts, and have it radio all information back to the... damn..."

"The Yorke, sir?"

"That's what we're working with... well I'll be, they do think this is pretty important. Yeah, have it relay all info to the Yorke, they'll know what the hell to make of it, at least be aware of the bloody bastards out there. God knows who the hell they are. Anyway, weps, make it a quiet speed to target. Say... ten knots."

"Aye, sir."

The Swordfish proceeded to launch an ultra-sensitive passive sensor bouy attached to a long-distance torpedo motor. All the while, its computer filtered out the noise generated by the torpedo to pick up, for now until it reached the two subs, a sketchy view of what was going on underneath the ocean.

Carnl smiled and tried not to salute. The man in front of him was one that demanded respect, even from a smartass like Carnl. Nodding slightly, he sat down on a creaky chair and for a moment feared it would collapse on him. But the metal held and he continued to sit.

"Sir, I was coming to talk to you, but this makes it so much easier." Carnl paused and looked at the window. He could see a chopper lift off the ground and fly away from the Blue House walls. An explosion of dust crested the tops of the trees int he Blue House Gardens. Involuntarily, he winced. "Well, as easy as it is. I don't know exactly what liasing is, but I was told to provide you with any information you want. I can get you in contact with General Nuhmi, who seems to be in charge of things, or the Rain Admiral who is currently with the Lindimese fleet at Avios. Or I can tell you that the former, and traitor, Defence Minister Poliy has been killed."

Carnl paused, fearing he had spoken too much already, but plunged ahead. Civil war was not a time for languidity. "Sir, before you ask any questions, I have a question for you. If you don't mind, of course. We've been debating whether or not to pull back the Lindimese fleet. We have half the fleets already back here, but we don't know what to do with them. And Avios may attack our retreating fleets, after what they did to our civilians." Carnl ended his rant and stiffened for the Admiral's admonishments, but reminded himself he was in a war. The usual diplomatic rites are going to wait in the tide pool.

Primary Tactical Center, Neuheimat Military Base

“General, we’ve got inbound,” an intelligence officer called out, spinning around in his leather chair. Dots were appearing all over the radar screen, each labeled with some military jargon.

General Enos bolted over to his station and peered at the screen. It had been what he had anticipated.

“Missile defenses are online, General,” came another voice from the command center.

“Great,” Enos mumbled, “this time we’re ready for the bastards. All our bases are at full alert.”

“Gattling cannons, AA emplacements, and decoys are ready all along our coastline.”

“This time we won’t be taken by these damn Lin-damn-ese.”

The Premier’s Compound, Aviagrad

“Our missile barrage has had some success,” reported Ivoski to the Avioan cabinet. “We’ve definitely done some damage, but of course not every missile got through. That still doesn’t solve the problem of the fleet outside our waters.”

“The situation in Lindim is in total chaos,” a diplomatic expert reported. “News reports seem to indicate that a coup d'état is in progress. Our information beyond that, even on the involved officials, is very hazy. Did you read the report, comrade?”

“Yes, I did,” answered the Premier, “and it might work out in our favor.”

“Who do we support, though? There has to be come connection to their revolution and their war waged against us, but their troops wouldn’t rebel simply because they attacked an innocent country,” another cabinet member pondered.

“Whatever the situation there right now, the leaders of Lindim are war criminals,” the Premier remarked, getting nods from all around the room.

Neuheimat Military Base

Four green supply trucks pulled up along the base’s sea wall, where no ship was docked at the moment. Several soldiers exited from behind the truck, unloading several long, but narrow metal tubes, resembling small missiles or large rockets.

“Now then, what are these things supposed to do?” asked one of the observing base captains.

“It’s a strategy born out of desperation, really. These missiles are fast, small, and low-flying. The plan is for them to be so small enough to not appear strongly on the enemy radar, and low enough too. They’ll fly close to sea level and hopefully hit an enemy ship’s hull,” was the answer. The previous captain watched skeptically as the missiles were set up.

“They don’t look very powerful.”

“Frankly, captain, they aren’t. They won’t penetrate very far, but they’re loaded with some pretty powerful explosives. They might be able to breach a couple of hulls and cause them to take on water.”

“If the enemy’s engineers aren’t totally inept, they’ll be able to isolate the damage.”

“Well, yes, but it’s better than doing nothing. Who knows, maybe we’ll hit an aircraft carrier’s fuel tank and sink ‘um,” the other captain replied optimistically.

“Doubtful, but I won’t argue that it’s better than doing nothing. So, how do they operate?”

“Remotely. They’re too small to be effective heat seekers so far out and this way we can aim at individual ships, provided we see them first.”

“So, what, we’re just playing battleship? First move’s B-4,” the cynical captain remarked. A couple of the other officers chuckled.

“Well, seriously, we know where their fleet is from radar, and their cruise missile attack didn’t help conceal their position, either.”

“And I’m told we’ll launch these tonight?”

“Absolutely. They’ll be specks on most radar screens, but they’ll stand out like a whale coming up for air to a soldier on deck. This way, we might actually hit a ship before the fleet is alerted to our little plan.”

The skeptical captain nodded.

“And if we’ve timed it right, all our mini-missiles will be upon the fleet at once. The Kaltwasser base is preparing some of these, too, as are a couple of others…”

“Well,” the other cut in as he gazed out at the now-hostile sea, “I hope to God that it works.”

The Premier’s Compound, Aviagrad

“It looks like our men were ready for their missiles, this time,” Ivoski noted to the other cabinet members as he got off the phone with one of his generals.

“With Microlaneia’s help, we can gather a fleet around Winkellburg and strike back at Lindim,” another general suggested, changing the topic.

“That seems like a good option. Our Hammer battle group to the north isn’t as formidable as Lindim’s fleet, but if we also had a Greater Sickle fleet to the south, we could probably force them away from Avios,” the Premier commented.

Ivoski was thinking the same thing. “So, I guess that’s how we’ll arrange them. The fleets will be based around the sister battle ships and attack from both sides.”

“Are we sure that’s the course of action we’re taking? Even with our allies, it will cost a lot of lives,” a random cabinet member asked.

“Well, we’re getting the fleets together, but we aren’t sending them up against the Lindimese yet,” the Premier answered.

“Sir, a group of engineers have a farfetched plan to attack their fleet. They’ll be firing a new kind of missile tonight from all over our coastline. Let’s see how effective they are before we decide on if we go head-to-head with them,” suggested Ivoski.

The door, which was flanked by two armed guards both outside and inside, flung open. A captain hurriedly stepped in, saluted the cabinet, and reported that the city of Neuheimat had been completely evacuated.

Kruichev considered what he had heard, looking rather like a dog as he tilted his head to one side.

"Could you get me in contact with the Rain Admiral? I need to ascertain the situation of your Fleet there. Once that's done, I'd like to meet this Nuhmi fellow, and see if we can work something out. Of course," he chuckled as he lit a cigarette," that's probably easier elsewhere. The noise alone makes a phone call somewhat iffy." He took a long, thoughtful drag, exhaled, coughed slightly. "I'd say that your Fleet should pull back slowly, myself, but I don't really know what's going on."

He looked again to the gently settling dust-cloud outside the Blue House. "Then again, I wonder if anybody does any more." He shook his head quickly, clearing away the memory of spending not a few nights, cold and confused on his little windswept patrol ship, wondering if those flashes on the horizon were missiles aimed at him, waiting for the icy water to grip his flesh and swallow his soul...

"Lieutenant, indulge me, if you would. Do we know anything about where this mysterious third, hostile fleet is coming from? Also, do you have a car?"

Avios News Network

An attractive female of about twenty-nine appeared on the screen. In the upper right portion, an image of deserted Neuheimat was displayed.

“Good evening, comrades,” the report began as usual. “The civilian populous of the city of Nueheimat has been successfully evacuated. The ease with which such a large number of people were moved without incidents is surely a testament to Avioan organization,” she said with a wide smile.

“And it was a good decision to evacuate the city, as earlier today, the Lindimese fleet launched a salvo of deadly cruise missiles at our shores. It is believed that several may have been targeting downtown Nueheimat. A large amount was also sent at the Nueheimat military base and other bases along the coastline. Thankfully, our Avioan Armed Forces were ready to repel the enemy’s salvo with gattling cannons and their own missiles.”

Avioan Aircraft Carrier Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia, Winkellburg Military Base

The admiral stood outside the control room, on the carrier’s tower. He surveyed the view of his ships getting loaded and ready to disembark. In particular, he watched shells being loaded aboard the pride of the fleet, the battleship Sickle.

“Admiral Clovis?” a voice from behind him asked. The admiral spun around to find a saluting captain.

“Yes, captain?”

“Sir, the Microlaneian ships have left port and are on their way now. We’ll be ready to deployment before they arrive.”

“Alright, then. Do we have any ships already to go?”

“Not many, yet. Why do you ask, sir?”

“I want to send a couple of submarines on patrol, to make sure none of them broke off from their main fleet. We shouldn’t be as blind as we are now.”

“Understood, sir. I can order some of the other ships to be given lower priorities and speed up readying the submarines.”

The admiral nodded, agreeing with this suggestion. Together, they decided on some short patrol routes that shouldn’t get too close to the enemy fleet.

The faint sound of country music singer David Rumsey’s hit “I Love Communism” came from below the two. Some of the sailors or pilots had a CD player set up, and a couple of them were even joining in with the track. The admiral grinned and chuckled. It was good to see that morale wasn’t destroyed. The admiral and captain exchanged salutes and the captain went back down the command tower. Admiral Clovis would stay here until nightfall, wanting to get a good glimpse of some of those queer new missiles.

Entraret Hotel, Iova

Carnl looked at the Admiral and raised his eyebrows slightly. An apathetic sailor. That was a first. A refreshing first. "I think," he said, dropping the 'Sir' deliberately, "you are referring to the Microleniea fleet. They border Avios, I believe, but we know nothing about them. Then again, I'd never heard of Avios before this..." he waved his arms around in a foolish attempt to describe the situation. "Mess." That summed it up.

"And I do own a car. Not that its gonna be nice, mind you, on my salary but yea, I own one." Carnl picked up a pen from the desk and played with it for a bit, snapping it in and out. He was beginning to develop an idea... but it would have to wait until later. "Admiral, I think I can get you in contact with the Rain Admiral and the Sand General." Carnl leaned the chair back, a questioning look on his face, until the chair finally broke and he fell to the floor.

Ouch. My head. The floor seemed to throb, and his vision blurred. Was it a concussion? No, it was real. The hotel was shaking.

***************

L.V.S. Nimerl

"Sir?" Eskan turned from the radar displays and sighed. The missile officer, probably with some bad reports on the volley, and now, just when there had been enemy fleet movements on both sides. The fools. Eskan shook his head and sighed again. Sighing seemed to help his stress. But apparently Avios and Micro didn't realize the strength of the Lindimese Navy. We live for the sea.

The officer continued to speak, and eventaully Eskan sannped out of his thoughts. "...And so sir, that is why we didn't exactly perform successfully."

Eskan waved the officer away. "Launch a second veolley, their missile defence systems can't handle another one of that size." I hope. "And I want a full round of shelling of every major port they have, aside from Winkellberg."

Eskan turned back to the radar. So they want to pincher us. We'll snap the claw in half. He picked up a pencil and scribbled out a few diagrams, indicating fleet movements and actions. After a few moments of erasing, he snapped the pencil in half, threw it in the trash, and beckoned a Commander over. The short stocky man came over and saluted rather lackdaisically. "Sir?"

Eskan handed him the scribbles. "Get our subs patrolling farther out, say an established maximum perimter of 100 kilometers, with orders to torpedo any Aviosian or Micron ships. I want destroyers squadrons patrolling even father out, with two heavy cruisers assigned ot each. They have the same firing commands as the subs. Continue radar sweeeps, but they send up four squardons per carrier of our EN-22's to engage any aircraft or ships they encounter. Got that?"

The Commander blinked dumbly for a few seconds before nodding and smiling, the confusion still evident in his eyes. Eskan sighed again, for what seemed the hundredth time that day. He'd have to make sure his orders went through properly.

***************

Erstwhile Errants, a Socialist EN-22 squadron on patrol over Lindim

"Danger Baboon, I've got some bandits, maybe, who knows how many clicks out at your five."

"Roger that, Red Backtrack. Around four kilometers off."

"Ready missiles, gentleman! Look for a lock, because those probably aren't one of Tre's!"

***************

Beauty's Danger, a Barrage-class destroyer on patrol near Winkellberg

"Ma'am, I've got, uh, maybe another ship, cruiser or destroyer size, isolated and near us. If you, uh, wanted to know," the ensign said, his stammering almost making Commander Raeno want to slap him. But she didn't. She had learned to contorl her temper, and her frustration, with her all-male crew either acting nervous around her or leering at her. Males. They were all almost teenagers, except for the odd engineer or so.

She nodded curtly. "Ensign, you may ready the guns." The destroyer had ten 3.12" guns, and she was one of the more conservative Lindimese styles.

The ensign saluted and began to walk off when he stopped and raised his eyebrows. "And, uh, the torpedos, ma'am?" He fumbled with his green sailor's hat nervously. Raeno decided she would have to work on her relationship with the crew.

"You may prepare those too. Report back with the next radar sweeps, or if they are within range." The sailor saluted again and slid the ladder quickly, almost tripping to the deck.

Raeno turned back to her coffee and wondered whether she should call in the rest of the patrol. A heavy cruiser was an appealing thought... but no. She would fight this battle one on one with the other ship.

OOC: That last section was an invitation for a one on one destroyer duel. They are quite fun.

OOC: Avios, I didn't target Neuhiemat downtown! Remember, Eskan said "No civilians!" and such?

Iova

Tirrew opened his eyes and stood up, leaning heavily on the chair next to his bed. An IV tube to his arms, and a man in a dirty brown uniform was sitting across from him. Stood? Bed? Uniform? IV? Tirrew felt his legs waver, and sat back down on the bed again, struggling not to pass out all together. "Where am I? The helicopter?"

The man in the uniform stood up and smiled benevolently. Tirrew thought he might recognize the man, if his mind wasn't so hazy. "Mr. Minister, I'm Sand General Nuhmi, and we just saved you from Tre. Do you remember?"

Tirrew rubbed his head hesitantly, but the memories were there and so he nodded. The windows seemed dark. Was it turning night already? Wasn't the inuaguration in the morning? Tirrew sighed and laid back down on the soft pillow, still awake. His mind felt clearer already.

Nuhmi smiled and sat on the end of the bed carefully. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but so far I've been runing the governmental and the military side of the remaining Lindimese government, and quite frankly," he added with a smile, "I can only do military matters." The general's voice grew thoughtful as he said, half to himself, "I wonder where the Linits went off to with the rest of the government." The general shrugged and turned his attention back to Tirrew.

Tirrew blinked. "What happened to Fuego?" he managed to get out. He realized his voice was slurred. Those drugs they pumped into him. WEll, they did keep him alive.

"Tre has taken the Prime Minister hostage," replied the general smoothly, "but now if you would just answer these emails we could-"

Tirrew sat straight up and almost grabbed the general. "You were made for diplomacy! Why aren't you rescueing Fuego and killing Tre, that self-serving Commie bitch?" Tirrew stopped shouting, and suddenly out of breath, fell onto his back again.

Nuhmi patted Tirrew's knee and shook his head. "If I could get her, I would, but right now I've got battles across the Islands and half of a Navy that I couldn't manage a quarter of." The general stood up and smoothed his uniform out. "Once I get in contact with some Linits, I think I can get Fuego."

Tirrew nodded, thinking of the two Linits that killed ten Special Forces soldiers without even trying. "Yeah, they'll find her."

Nuhmi smiled grimly. "And Tre too. I swear, if my Marines get their hands on that- shit, if I got my hands on her neck..."

Tirrew found he could smile. "Control yourself, Sand General."

Nuhmi suddenly straightened out and saluted. "Glad you found yourself, Interm Prime Minister."

Tirrew's mouth dropped. "You can't- but I..." The general held the salute, and tirrew groaned, massaging his temples. "Let me see those emails..."

OOC: An epic bump.

Kurichev would have laughed at the almos comical fall, but for the vibration. He looked up, and shrugged. "Microlenia, eh...strange that they should become so invoved, so quickly, and with no apparent motive." He tapped at the cigarrete, concentrating on the cinders as they hit the carpeted floor. They danced as the building shook again.

"Probably artillery, I expect. It might be an idea for us to locate the Sand General. I'll be needing a satellite phone or somesuch similar system, to communicate with your man on the scene." Kurichev took another drag from the cigarette, relishing the coarseness of the tobacco as it sent a thousand thoughts wafting through his memory.

"Shall we?" He gathered up the laptop.

The Sukolov Azrael fighter aircraft was top of the line production in the Commonwealth. She wasn't small, for she carried good load of weapons (internally stored of course), but she was fast, she was quickl, and she was almost undectable with modern technology. The benefits of an economic powerhouse, thought Airman Brighton Chamberlain.

Chamberlain was the wingman for his squad commander, the two were flying standard operating procedure, competely dead. The engines were running, the communications computer was running and the aircraft central computer was running. That was it. The communication link between his plane and the Watchdog aircraft far behind him was direct line of sight communication, heavily encrypted, difficult to jam due to its high power transmitter at the source. What it allowed Chamberlain to do was sit back and watch the plane fly itself. The navigational computer aboard the Watchdog guided his plane within the limits of the 400km radar range, at this high altitude of 70,000 thousand feet, however, Chamberlain was not particularly concerned about naviagational hazards such as mountains. The onboard computer displayed information on a far distant flight, some 200 km away, of aircraft flying above Lindim. Unfortunately, he didn't yet know, and neither did the whole of the damn Royal Navy, which fighters belonged to who. He just consented himself to sit back here and wait until he received word. Watching the airspace above Lindim.

[OOC: sorry I'm coming in late, but I think I can still be useful.]
"Admiral Michaels, sir!" The Lieutenant saluted with precision.
"At ease, Lieutenant. What do you have for me today?"
"Well, sir, it appears that our ally, Lindim, a new addition to the OMP, is having troubles."
"What kind of troubles? By the sound of this, we have no time to tiptoe around the point... tell me what's happening, dammit!"
"Yessir, of course, Admiral, sir. There's a naval battle and a coup, sir."
"What?"
"Just what I said, sir. They sent half their fleet to go bombard some poor nation that was minding its own business, and then with that distraction some dissenting elements of the government and military have attacked the PM."
"Do you think they need help?"
"Well, I..."
"That was a rhetorical question, Lieutenant. What do we have in the area?"
"Our Third Expeditionary Fleet is a day's sail away, sir. Advance elements could get there sooner... those new Sabre-class destroyers, sir. I saw them at the show, they're amazing sir, they..."
"So, the Third Expeditionary Fleet... who's in charge of that?"
"Commodore Fortino, sir, you gave him command of that after you took over for the First and Second Expeditionary Fleets. Who would have known that he'd be the one seeing all of the action?"
"Ah, Fortino. The kid seems to bring trouble to him. Wire a message to him immediately, informing him of my orders to send the Third Subgroup of Battle Group Alpha to relieve the Lindimese."
"Right on it, sir."
"Also tell him that 100 special ops personell are being flown out from the OMP base, and that they are to be sent to help protect the PM. We may not have divisions at our disposal to send overseas, but what we do have packs a hell of a punch."
To: (whoever the hell is in charge of the loyalist forces)
From: Admiral Michaels, Pacific Northwesteria NavCom.
Message follows.
President Zwimbala and I are deeply effected by the tragedy unfolding in your country. We are therefore sending a team of special ops to help ensure the safety of your PM, and our fleet will try to protect your fleet's withdrawal back to the home islands. Please instruct how best to help. If one subgroup is insufficient, we have the entire Third Expeditionary Fleet in reserve. Good day, and good luck.

OOC:
[Here is the subgroup:
3RD Subgroup:
1x Lunar Class Carrier
70x MiG-29s
10x F-109Ds
20x Su-33s
10x Su-34s
3x Centaur Class Destroyers
3x Sabre Class Destroyers
1x Katori Class Cruiser
7x Defiance Class Frigates]
Lunar Class carriers are stealthy, not that it will matter... yet.
The special ops will be dropped off on ACLCs at the location desired by whoever is in charge over there.
More on this tomorrow, I hope.

OOC: I'm replying to these as I get them.



Attn: Mattvian Minister of Defence

I am contacting you in secret so that we could perhaps coordinate our assistance to the nation of Lindim. We currently have a submarine en route to the nation of Lindim in order to deposit a special operations team that will primarily ocnduct intelligence on the developing situation. The submarine, called Swordfish will be at these coordinates [insert coordinates since I have no map to work off of, but suffice to say a coastal city in chaos so that troops can be inserted without notice]. In addition we have the HMS Yorke carrier battle group en route to the area, it shall take approximately three days (NS time) to arrive in the area, at which point it would be more than capable of providing assistance and protection to the HIMS Power.

Personally, I think out first goal should be the elimination of Lindim's means of control and communication. Ordinarily we would recommend the retrieval of Prime Minister Fuego, but I feel that she does more for the nation being held in captivity than being rescued. If her people know she has been taken prisoner in a bloody coup, I would suspect the people would be more resistant to the usurper. And since my government wants to do as little collateral damage as possible, we feel that allowing the anger of the civilian population to be directed at the organizers of the coup is better than say, blasting coup headquarters with cruise missiles. That said, I would advise that we first take out satellites and communication towers being used by the rebellion. We have extremely high altitude fighters ready to deploy with anti-satellite missiles.

Of course, it may also be useful to learn what sort of countermeasures the rebels have at their disposal. Any sort of intelligence you may have on Lindim weapons technology would be greatly appreciated.

However, these are just the opinions of the Commonwealth government, and we mean not to act on them without the consent of our partners in this military operation.

Daniel Blair
Minister of Defence.

To the Minister of Defence for Azazia:

Mattvia would be pleased to have help.
My plan is to send in my infantry via air, because HIMS World is not a fighting vessel it only has a few guns. And are only protection is HIMS Terror.
When the troops land secure a area and have a field hospital for the ordinary civilians, and protect them, then help destroy the rebels, but we would need time if we need tanks.

Minister of Defence for Mattvia.

A whistle blew.
"Sir we've got a boogie heading from Port, coming to us, hit time, 78 seconds."
"Go down! Full power!"
The submarine went down, and moved forward, the torpedo, went past them, hitting a nearby fishing vessel.
"Right then, turn to wards those bastards!" Newport shouted at his crew!
The submarine faced the ship.
"Flooding one, flooding two, fire!" Newport said.
Two Spearfish torpedo's headed for the ship, time until impacted 76 seconds, 75 seconds, 74 seconds.....
The HIMS Terror, headed starboard away from the ship.

The Prime Minister's office now carried a heavy smell of hot drinks, with all three of the most powerful men in government sitting at his desk, reclining lazily in soft chairs. Their faces showed no lack of energy, however, regardless of what their bodies said.

"Has Kurichev made contact with a Lindimese Fleet representative yet?" enquired Schützer, the Foreign Minister.

"His reply to our message said that he had, but that he didn't know quite what the situation was at present. He'll probably inform us when he finds out," said the Defence Minister.

"If he finds out."

"He'll find out," said Kazakov amiably.

"He'd better, or we're gonna be left in the dark." Jones' voice grated across his tea.

"Well, not quite; we can still ask the Lindimese directly what's going on, surely?" Schützer frowned.

"Not necessarily. From what we know the country's capital is in chaos. Rebel troops and loyal troops engaged in open fighting, no ability to contact the President, god only knows how much damage to communications and infrastructure." Kazakov whistled between his teeth. "It's a mess."

"So we can't get int touch with anyone in authority then?" asked Jones hopefully.

"Not of late, no. Mikhail is right. The country's in such a mess it's almost impossible to tell what's going on, and equally almost impossible to contact anyone and find out. We're relying on Kurichev, basically."

"Terrific." Jones shook his head sadly and finished his tea. With a sated gasp, he turned to the great wall-mounted screen to his right, showing the positions of all the nation's military resources. "How do yuo work this damn thing?" he asked in exasperation. The other two watched for a couple mof minutes as he cycled through all 197 television channels, then turned to screen off, then back on, then managed to make everything go into an interesting shade of yellow, and finally succeeded in making the giant screen give all its information, written or spoken, in Portuguese. At this point, he hurled the controller across the room. Kazakov picked it up, ignoring the babble of Portuguese emanating from the speakers.

"You do this, and then this, and then this!" Kazakov demonstrated, showing it to Jones like one might show a chewed slipper to an intransigent dog while waving an admonishing finger. The screen obediently switched back to English and showed the dispositions of the Lindimese fleets.

"Right. They're here and here, engaged in battle of some kind with Avios. The Microlinean fleet is approaching from the north. We have nothing in area apart from a pair of cruisers and three submarines. We can concentrate those quickly, however. I suggest we order the submarines in to conduct a recon, while we order the cruisers to hold station and move a fleet to the Northern Islands, here." Kazakov pointed with his long, thin finger to indicate the relevant island. It was still quite a way from Lindim.

"Once we know what's going on, that puts us in a good position to intervene on either side," Kazakov concluded. "We need to know what's happening, however."

"Agreed. Prime Minister, I have to leave now...urgent meeting in the Office...however, you know where I am."

"Yep. See you, Anton!" called Jones to Schützer's disappearing back.

"So," he mused as the door clicked shut. "Let's get moving."

On the bridge

"Raise anchor" Commodore Harry Lancaster ordered his grew.
"Aye sir"
He walked over to the mapper, and leaned over pointed at the screen.
"We want to meet with the fleet of Azazia, we meet up with them, then we make the plans, got it?" he asked
"Aye, sir" the man said as he typed the coordinates into his computer.
"Well, come on, let's move!"
HIMS Worlds, engines stared, to roar, and slowly off they went, they were going at a speed of 17 knots, they were carrying Battle group White Sun, they were part of Operation, Lindim Island.

http://img22.exs.cx/img22/2595/kirmeer9pw.th.png (http://img22.exs.cx/my.php?loc=img22&image=kirmeer9pw.png)
HIMS World plan of action as it were.

HMS Breningrad

Captain Walter Raleigh peered through his binocculars. Despite the new-fangled technology, such as satellite imagery and long distance view-finders, He still preferred the old-fashioned tradition of actually attempting to spy ships out on the horizon. Of course, on the Artega class cruiser Breningrad Raleigh had litte unprotected horizon to inspect. His missiles could fire far beyond the horizon. He knew that the HIMS World was just over the crescent where sea and air met, but he still wanted to see the ship coming into view. It was large, perhaps some 200 meters or so in length. Not too shabby, Raleigh thought. Could be worse groups to associate with in a military operation.

***

HMS Yorke

Admiral Atkinson glanced at the computer display screen. The HIMS World was forming in the center of his battle group, along with the Yorke. Together the ships would be making sail for the Lindim coast, where Mattvian forces would be inserted under Azazian protection. In three days the bulk of the Azazian ground forces would be arriving with a cruiser-based supplement to his forces. His even powerful battle group would become even more powerful. Although Atkinson doubted that a divided Lindim Navy would be able to stop him. Divided parties are easier to crash, thought Atkinson. He smiled at his reminescence of his youthful days at the Academy, sneaking into a party at a third university in the same town as the Army and Royal Navy universities... while army boys and navy boys started a fight, Atkinson stole away more than several drinks... no one ever knew...

But as for the mission, it was better this way. Eventually he hoped to get into contact with some loyalist Lindimese admiral, or some high-ranking officer. He'd rather have as many ships on his side all the same. For now, his taskforce was a day (ooc: I assume your "day later" bit at the beginning of the RP is the distance between Lindim and Avios... if not, I'll change) away from Lindim. Several hours from effective range of Lindim's fighter aircraft. Already, Azrael fighters were beginning long range patrols of the Lindim coast. Unfortunately, they still didn't know who was who, and if Lindim fighters came too close to the fleet, they would be shot down. Atkinson considered it doubtful that many Azraels would be intercepted, it was possible of course given the right technology... or assemblages of technology... but they would still be able to strike Lindim targets as a first strike. And shortly after the fighters came into range of Lindim targets, Azazian cruise missiles would descend upon the likely unexpecting rebel defenses.

Soon, soon war would come upon Lindim. And Atkinson hated the prospect.

Command ship Thunder, Northern Island approaches

Thunder's bridge was a quiet place, placed as it was high above the waters below and the humming turbines astern. Of course, it was anything but quiet in battle, but this was not a battle. Not yet.

The navigator sounded his usual monotone. "Passing the Sisters, sir." He referrred to a pair of huge, pointed, jagged stone prominences, jutting up out of the sea, some 10 miles apart. Many a ship had been brought to ruin on them, before the British had built a lighthouse there. Occasionally, the cargoes of some of the vessels that had foundered against those trecherous rocks could still be seen, washed up by errant tides.

"Very well," replied Captain First Rank Robert Gaunt. "Carry on." Gaunt was as happy as happy could be. He smiled faintly, humming "Rule, republic," and paced slowly about the bridge, pausing on occasion to admire the magnificent sunlight as it reflected from the sea, or take in the sight of six giant guns in front of him. He went out onto the walkway outside the bridge, gazing along the starboard side of his ship. Thunder basked contentedly in the sunshine.

Gaunt was the archetypal naval officer. He was tall, spare, gave the impression of having a ceaseless energy and an active mind beneath his receding hair and slightly dour face. He was eternally proud of being a cultured man, proud of his British roots, but he loved his country and would die for his country. However, he did not anticipate that that would be a necessity.

Behind his ship, a long quadruple column of warships was proceeding through that glorious afternoon, wending slowly northwards through the channels between islands and islets: small, defiant destroyers; the bigger, stocky cruisers; the battlecarriers, bulldog-like with their massive, built-up forepart and flat afterdeck; the huge fleet carriers, floating islands of steel and concrete on the sea; and of course, the mighty "heavies", the battleships and battlecruisers, whose aggressive, ready forms gave the impression of matching the energy and will of their commander. With them went minesweepers, supply ships, small escorts. Constantly overhead was the melee of dart-like fighters, while occasiuonally, between the procession, the blunt, black shapes of submarines' sails could be made out.

[OOC: I need a response from someone before I can continue my RP. My small task force should be fairly near the area by now, and I need Lindim to tell me where to put it.]

HIMS World is now with fleet of Azazia, they are heading for Lindim.

OCC: Don't really know what to post.

OOC: Mattvia, my submarine never fired. And Avios, I am waiting for your ship movements. Everyone else, I apologize for the belated reply but I really can't do anything near Avios until he responds to my posts.

Entraret Hotel, Iova

Carnl rubbed his back and stood up shakily, his face beet-red. "Umm, yes, in my car, I have a satellite phone." The rumbling had stopped, but he could hear the choes of what sounded like thounder in the distance. Tanks. They brought tanks into Iova?!? "If you'll follow me, I think we can get to my car and use that phone before it's destroyed by the Sea knows what. Next they'll start shelling the city." Carnl paused and shivered at the thought. "Follow me." He took off without waiting for a response.

He threw open the conference door just as another rattling grabed the hotel. This, he decided as he ran towards the elevator, is going to suck.

***************

SECURE TRANSMISSION TO ALLIED FLEETS NEAR AVIOS

This is the Rain Admiral Eskan of the Lindimese Fleets caught in battle of the coast of Avios. We can hold our own against the Aviosian fleet, but the Microlaniean fleet is a problem. While the Microlaniean and Aviosian fleets attempt to pinch us, you may approach the Microns from behind. After that, the Aviosian fleet should present to real threat. Thank you.

OOC: I am still waiting for Avios to post his and Microlaniea's ship movements....

***************

SECURE TRANSMISSION TO ALLIES NEAR LINDIM
We are planning to launch an attempt to free the PM. However, we except heavy resistance from Socialist Marines and the Lindimese Special Forces. Any nations planning to help in this mission any encouraged to meet on the northern coast of the Booni Islands. No resistance should be expected. A representative will meet you there and escort you to the Loyalist HQ.

-Nuhmi

***************

Off the coasts of the Dii Islands, on the L.W.S. Fell Swoop, a Torrent-class battleship

Commander Inaen Hoa smiled at the transmission from this Kert Tirrew, the man who led the loyalists. She smiled because he thought he commanded the Lindimese Navy at home. Didn't they realize Tre had left these certain ships at home becuase they were Socialist? Their problem.

Crumpling up the printout and casually tossing it away, she turned back to the missile officer of her ship, the last battleship active in the Lindimese Navy. For now. "Duul?"

Duul smiled and saluted sharply. "Ma'am, if anything approaches within firing range we are to fire without question."

Inaen nodded. "All guns and missiles. No allies of the Capitalizts may even consider getting near enough to launch a rescue of the former PM. Any ship at all, immediate destruction." Duul saluted and walked off, whistling happy. Inaen felt rather upbeat herself. Her ship was the most powerful warship in the Lindimese Navy, and could withstand even AS-4 strikes. Nothign was going to stop them. Nothing would stop Tre.

OOC: Really sorry about all of this, but I can't do anything major at home or abroad until Avios posts. One of you could attempt to approach the Lindimese Islands for a rescue and get caught in a battle with the Fell Swoop.

"Indeed." Kurichev followed, feeling his heart beat in a way that had not been familiar in a very long time. "Do you think they'll take the capital?" he panted, jogging into the lift.

OOC: I thought you did, let's say I fired at a lone ship, or something.
OOC: Also can you make a map for Lindim, because I don't know were I am, or were this island that you want us to go to is. Thank you.

IC:
"Sir, we have a incoming message" the communications officer said, taking the note out of one of the crews hand.
"Read then" the commodore said bluntly.
"Aye sir" the communications officer said. "It says, and I quote We are planning to launch an attempt to free the PM. However, we except heavy resistance from Socialist Marines and the Lindimese Special Forces. Any nations planning to help in this mission any encouraged to meet on the northern coast of the Booni Islands. No resistance should be expected. A representative will meet you there and escort you to the Loyalist HQ.-Nuhmi, and then it ends there sir."

"Who in gods name in Nuhmi?"
"He's the general in charge of the loyalist forces" One of the officers said.
"Very well then, do you know were this island is?" Lancaster asked the mapper.
"I can try and find it?"
"No, you will find it."
"Aye" the man replied
"Communications officer, send this message to the man in charge of the Azazia fleet. Admiral Atkinson, we have received a message from the Lindim loyalists, that they want us to act fast, we must get to the island of Booni, I am hoping that you have got the message as well, our plan should be, lay anchor of the coast of these islands, and then have the troops board helicopters and boats and go onto the island, there is every chance that this is some sort of trap. What is your reply?
Commodore Lancaster. And cut it there, send now."
"Aye sir" the communications officer said as he sat down to type the message.
"You, get me head phones." The commodore said as he sat down. A crew member gave him the head phones, the commodore moved his chair closer to the screen.
"Hello, hello, this is the his imperial Majesty's ship World, I am commodore Lancaster commander of this ship, I have received your message and we are going full stem ahead, do you read me over....?"
While Lancaster was saying that, the ship moved to 20 knots.

OOC: That last message was to the Lindim loyalist on Booni Island.

OOC: The Lindimese website has a map on it. The website is listed in my signature. I've said that before. :p

Entraret Hotel, Iova

Carnl waited for the panting admiral to step into the elevator, and pressed the button labeled "Ground." He waited for the confirming ding of the elevator, and grinned at the teenage girl out in the hallway as she watched the doors slid shut. "Do I think they'll take it? Yea, sure, they always had the advantage." He shrugged and began to unbutton the coat of his dress uniform. He always hated the things. "But I don't think it matters. A capital is only a physical location, the government resides where the leaders and information are."

He paused at the elevator came to a sudden stop and the lights flickered briefly. But the doors opened into the lobby and Carnl stepped out. "And since the information is mostly digital nowadays, the government is where the leaders are. And the leaders are Nuhmi and Tirrew at this point, with Eskan out overseas." Carnl looked outside and pointed to his car across the street, the red paint undisturbed and the car in perfect condition. "I can take you to them if you want."

***************

SECURE TRANSMISSION TO IMS WORLD
We understand and read you perfectly. Phosphor flares will alert you to the landing site. You may use your own troop transports, or you may use the helicopters we will have waiting there. Little piece of advice: Take the females in skirts very, very seriously. You'll know what I mean. Thank you.

-Nuhmi (with advice from Tirrew)

***************

Tenb

"Okay," said Tirrew shutting the laptop and standing up suddenly. He winced at the pain in his leg, and tried not to whimper. He wanted to personally find the person responsible for blowing his cars tires out; he would try to cut their leg in half too. "I think that settles it."

Nuhmi opened his mouth to speak, but the Linit standing next to him smoothly glided in front of him and nodded. "We will meet them, and they will be taken here if only for a short period of time. We want to operate by tomorrow night." She smiled at the two men, her grey eyes joyless, and exited the room just as quietly as she had entered on the two men. It was a few minutes before Tirrew and Nuhmi could exhale.

Nuhmi shook his head. "Excellent warriors, I know that but..." Tirrew raised his eyebrows. "That was good advice you gave the Mattvians, sir."

Tirrew smiled sadly.

[OOC: sorry, in a rush. I'll try to flesh this out later.]
To: loyalist forces.
Our task force is on its way to the rendezvous point. We will use our own landing craft, but thank you for the offer.
[ooc: you can have the BB attack me now]

"I think that'd be a good idea." He paused, opening his holster where it resided beneath his jacket. The old Webley .38 still sat there, snug in its old leather. Good.

"hey, what you said about a capital. If they take it, won't they have a good degree of control over all the communications nodes and whatnot?" The rumbling started up again. "Fuck, they're getting close!"

Commodore Fortino was uneasy. His fleet was approaching the designated insertion coordinates for the special ops, and he had continuous CAP above him, but somehow things just didn't feel right. A coup would never succeed with just the Marines on board... they'd need parts of the Air Force, the Navy... hell, they probably had a few nukes by this point. Pacing back and forth, he considered the possibilities, each more terrifying than the last. He urgently sent off a message to Loyalist Command HQ.
We have arrived at the insertion coordinates, and will commence insertion presently.
We are cautious, because we have no intelligence on the size and strength of the enemy on the sea.
Please advise enemy Naval strength, as it is unlikely they would attempt a coup without
part of every branch of the armed services. We shall protect the landing
at all costs, to help save your PM. Good day.

ooc: Don't have much time, got plans for the evening, yay for winter breaks
ic:

HMS Yorke

Admiral Atkinson stood outside on the open-air bridge, breathing in the salty air and the jet-fuel fumes wafting over the flight deck. The smell of combat operations. It had been settled, there would be combat. And more than likely, it was this very ship that would be the most heavily targetted. It was a definite possibility that he would not survive this encounter. That was why he had spent the last hour writing his final letter to his wife and children and grand-children back home. It had gone out with the last scheduled mail flight from the carrier. From this point on, the Yorke battle group was a floating war machine.

Satellite imagery had picked up a battleship guarding the coast of one of the northern islands, he still hadnt acquainted himself with the names of the Lindim geography. It was there. But why?

The loyalists had apparently gone out to Avios, at least that's what he had gathered from Rain Admiral Eskan. But why would the loyalists be attacking the innocent country? It was rhetorical, he knew why. Otherwise, they would have been a threat to the rebels, so they kept the rebel-supporting naval fleets close-by to stop this from happening.

ooc: time's up, let's just say this is a cliffhangar...

OOC: I have got a long reply coming tomorrow... very long. I'll just improvise for Avios, enter a battle with Pacifica, and do a bunch of other stuff in one post. Sorry about the long delays.

Guess not. I'll have the long post up tonight.

OOC: Mattvia, where are you? Avios, or Lindim?

OOC: Pacific, Lindim does not have nuclear weapons as a policy. We have an ABM system and sophisticated nuclear research, but no weapons.

Azazia, Tre sent the Loyalist area of the Navy to Avios as a distraction so she could throw her coup without interference from the strongest section of the Lindimese military. The Loyalists didn't/don't care about Avios really.

Booni Islands, Northern Shore, on L.W.S. Fell Swoop

The enisgn in front of Commander Inaen stood absolutely still at perfect attention, but Inaen could detect the anxiousness in him. Not anxious nervousness, but anxious for battle, for a chance to defend Lindim. Well, he would get his chance. "And the reports from the frigates and destroyers?"

"A small carrier fleet. The carrier has a damn near" - the ensign blushed but plunged ahead - "entire group of planes on it, but the escort is minimal, with perhaps only twenty ships with it, at the most."

Inaen paused and though through her head. As the leading point subgroup of the First Northern fleet, she had the duty of negating the enemy defences quickly for the others to secure. The carrier was a problem, but the battleship and its escort could easily take on the carrier's escort...

"Ensign, I want four missile frigates to move up and go on AA patrol, nothing else unless fired upon. Understand?" The younger officer nodded, his blonde hair bobbing eagerly, and Inaen continued. "Move eight destroyers up, and when we open fire on the destroyers and frigates, I want two fast attack submarines to attack the carrier."

Inaen dismissed the ensign and began walking to the coffee machine when her Second Commander Breolli approached, wearing the enigmatic smile he always wore. Inaen could swear he even had it on at his wife's funeral. "Breolli?" she asked, using the last name she always did with good friends.

Breolli simply widened his smile, if that was possible and gave a casual salute. "Inaen, we have three destroyers and two missile frigates in range. They've probably just caught onto our presence."

Inaen opened to her mouth to respond, then changed her question. "Have we got any of our destroyers in range of these targets?"

Breolli nodded and handed her a printout of the radar sweep. "One, but we can move four more in within minutes."

Inaen cracked her knuckles. "The four quad Harpoon launchers we have target the frigate, and those those five 16 inch guns firing on the destroyers. The new MODs systems should be able to handle the targetting fair enough. Get our destroyers to target the escort while we can, and you know what? Fuck it. If we can get in range of the carrier, open fire. Pull those subs back if the Pacifics call in backup."

Breolli just smiled even wider, his pale, thin lips pressed white.

***************

Booni Islands, Northern Shore

Uyse brought the four phosphour markers out of her satchel and sat down on the grass, knife and gun in her silk belt. The night sky had engulfed the fading blue, and it was difficult even for her to see very well.

As she sat waiting for the ships, the night air seemed to shift from a caressing comfort to a warning chill. Uyse tried to resist the sensations, then gave in and pulled out her binoculars. Laying down on the beach, sand pressed tight against her legs and chest, she jumped up so fast she nearly ripped her skirt.

Socialist fleets of the coast of Booni. And the allies were coming. Usye bent down and pulled a satellite phone out of her bag. She wanted a few minutes before a connection was established with the secure Tenb HQ.

A static and gruff male voice answered. The Sand General. "Nuhmi," he barked.

Uyse rapidly listed off coordinates and locations of the few ships she had seen, smoothly driving the other line into a stunned silence.

Then: "Socialist Navy? With our only battleship? I have got to tell our allies to bring along some heavy artillery!" Uyse heard a string of cursing before the general hung up. How impolite.

Uyse folded her skirts beneath her as she sat down on the shores and steadied her breathing. Night had fallen and the stars were up.

***************

SECURE TRANSMISSION TO PACIFIC NORTHWEST

There is a contingent of Socialist ships near the Booni shore that we were not aware of as being Socialist. A battleship with at least a few escort ships is waiting for you. Sorry no help can be offered at the moment, but good luck and good Wind.

***************

Iova

Carnl decided the admiral was a smart man and decided to make like one. Dashing across the street, he glanced down to the now not-so-blue Blue House walls and saw astream of tanks bombard the building. Whose side they were on, he had no idea. He threw open his car doors and rummaged throw the glove compartment until he found his Glock-17. A very good gun.

He turned back to the admiral as he hopped in the driver's seat and shook his head. "Yea, there's communication here, but redudancy is built into the whole system, so the Prime Minister could communicate with anyone anywhere at anytime, even war." He stuck the keys into the ignition and turned, bringing the rumbling engine awake. "Besides, they've got Tre."

Ignoring all traffic laws and at this point not caring, Carnl swung the car out into the rushing traffic and swerved onto the empty right-hand lane. He stepped on the gas and prayed that he could get around the tanks, which were moving right in front of him. "I am pretty sure the Intelligence Minister has all the control over communications she wants. Still, I suppose you are right, if there are tanks here, the battle for the Blue House has got to be serious. I just wonder why-" A large explosion in the street beside him silenced the rest of his sentence.

***************

Unknown location

"As long as the Linits don't know... our man has fed us enough reliable... but they are moving in from..." Fuego blinked. It was very bright. The room was very bright. Or perhaps white? Maybe both. Fuego tried to stand up, but for some reason could not. She could shake her head though. Maybe that would get rid of the voices. She tried shaking her head. The voices continued.

"She's awake. Guilod, would you please excuse me?" The soft thuds of boots leaving the room and the door closing. A shape forms in front of Feugo. Funny, it reminds her of an old friend of hers. They used to swim and sail together, and play soccer with the boys. The girl came form a poor neighborhood, unlike Fuego's own. But Fuego liked her. Had liked her. What was her name? "Hello, Fuego," Tre said.

The fog lifted from Fuego's mind and she remembered what had happened. Thrashing against the duct tape that strapped her to the chair, Fuego tried to glare at the woman leaning against the door, with the relaxed agility of a cat. Tre, I cannot believe should would do this. Wait, yes I can!

Tre shook her head sadly, eyes still hidden behind her black glasses that seemed part of her. "Fuego, where should I move you?"

Fuego forced her sputtering out through the gag. "When you kill me, you soulless-"

Tre raised an eyebrows and smiled. That shut Fuego up. "I'm not going to kill you, Intry. Remember? We both know the value of martyrs to a cause. No, I will simply move you to an island prison, by yourself. Perhaps near your vacation home off of Dii?" Tre nodded to herself. "Yes, that would work."

Fuego finally managed to spit the gag out of her mouth. "What are you doing? No wait, why?"

Tre paused at the door, hand grasing the brass medal. "For the people of Lindim."

"They don't want Socialism, can't you accept that?" shouted Fuego, tears at her eyes. She was hostage to Tre! Tre had taken her hostage! Where?

Tre turned back towards Fuego and removed her sunglasses. Fuego stared; Tre had her eyes shut, and still would not open them. "The people do not always want was is best for them. Good day, Intry, my friend."

Fuego laughed, her horase voice transforming the action into a series of raspy barks. "So, that's what this is about."

Tre didn't move.

Fuego forced her muscles to move into a smile. She had only prvoked Tre's anger once, and that time was hard enough. She had to do it again. "Your childhood. Look, I'm sorry about the broken-dwon neighborhoods but-"

This time Tre gave a soft, rueful laugh, with a musical voice Fuego had not heard since childhood. "No, it's not about that." Tre opened the door and stepped through. The white room began to scare Fuego.

"Capitalizm works!" Fuego screamed, her eyes red and tears soaking her cheeks. "There's always a lower-class Tre! I'm sorry!" The door shut with a harsh click. "Tre, what have you done... Kallia, what have you done...?"

Fuego could not hear, but on the other side of the door, Tre laughed. Intry was always a bit hysterical; she had never handled bad situations well. Always one for melodrama. Oh, well.

ooc: What's the makeup of your fleet, Lindim?

HMS Yorke

“Admiral, new satellite imagery!” the young ensign rushed in out of breath, as he would be since the Communications Center was secured two decks below.

“What’s it say, ensign?”

“Well, sir, it appears that the Lindim fleet is moving towards us. I count… four smaller warships, perhaps frigates, moving towards the front of their group, another eight ships, larger than the first group also moving up. Their battleship appears to be stationary.” During the middle of his report he passed the translucent satellite photos to Atkinson, who promptly placed them square on the light display.

The four lead ships, probably picket frigates, would either be doing ASW or AAW work. The secondary line, probably heavy frigates or destroyers would be the other, and it looked like some AS missile launchers on their decks. Within range of the outer frigates of the Yorke group… problematic to say the least. He’d like to lose as few men as possible. The Commonwealth with its massive navy could afford to lose most of the CBG, but these were men… men with families and futures. But so were the damn rebels… and they apparently didn’t seem to care. “Ensign, have they made any attempts to fire weapons, or test our defenses?”

“Negative, sir. They seem to be waiting to react to our moves.”

Makes sense, mused Atkinson, why risk entering a shooting war when your own damn country is a mess… unless you absolutely have to. And right now, the Commonwealth had only pledged support, not necessarily bullets and missiles. So what to do? What to do?

After a long silence in the Ship Combat Center (SCC), Atkinson took a deep breath, “Captain Wilshire, these are your orders. The frigates Kilney and Gershwin are to hold current positions. Intensify your submarine sweeps. ASW planes are to be flying regular air patrols with the fighter aircraft already aloft. I want you to radio the World and inform them the Yorke will be moving to the rear of the group and I advise they do the same, our fighters will be in missile range of the Lindim elements, and we will make sure that their anti-ship missiles have to stretch their legs to reach us. The destroyers are to move ahead of this carrier readying their missiles while detaching two destroyers and two frigates for rear guard duty. Send forward the Breningrad and the Artega, have them set their anti-ship missiles for immediate retaliatory launch. Is all that understood?

“Yes, sir.” Wilshire moved off to the fleet tactical officer to relay the orders while Atkinson stepped over to the submarine tactical officer, “Davenport, how are our lead elements doing?”

“Well sir, last report had them in torpedo and missile range of their lead elements, with them moving ships forward, well, they’ve merely put more targets at our disposal.”

“Excellent, Davenport, excellent. As for the Swift?”

The Swift was the fleet missile submarine. Not ballistic missiles, but heavy anti-ship cruise missile submarine. A lethal range of 200 kilometers, she was well centered within the CBG, but well within striking distance. One of the older designs; she had become noisier with age, but still a powerful first strike weapon. “The Swift, sir, she stands ready to launch at a moment’s notice.”

“Excellent. Lieutenant Varshow, patch me through to Royal Navy Headquarters, I have something to request from our land-based airmen.”

Tilvet Air Base, outside Breningrad

The Beriov designed Angel fighter was expensive, she was large. But she could fly high. Armed with only two missiles, she was built for one purpose. Tilvet was the main base for these operations, and it was far from the action in the South Pacific Ocean. But she was to play a major role from afar. An anonymous role, one the history books would likely forget, but not the seamen fighting for the Commonwealth.

An hour after Atkisnon’s conversation with Royal Air Force General Patterson was complete, two Angels raced down the runway, taking off into the southern skies. They were followed in five minute intervals by six more paired flights from Tilvet and an airbase outside Rykesgrad.

Satellite KS-12, Earth Orbit

Azazian satellites were primarily the domain of the Royal Air Force, although in the coming years they would be switched to the Royal Starfleet. However, General Patterson still had authority, and as the Angel fighters roared off to the south, KS-12 through KS-20 moved into strategic positions around Earth orbit, falling into the orbits of Lindim satellites, behind those satellites.

Fort Terick, adjacent to the Citadel

General Patterson stared at his computer monitor. His assets were in place. Positioned right where they needed to be. He looked around the small, compact, stuffy room… cursing the abysmal lighting – for the millions spent in here they could have easily bought a decent lighting system – and pressed the ‘Enter’ key on his small keypad.

Southern Pacific Skies

Seconds after Patterson pressed his little key, the Angel fighters ignited their afterburners and entered a steep climb, at the end of their boosted flight pilots flipped their missiles switches and then armed their weapons. After acquiring targets, 28 anti-satellite missiles roared into the ever darkening blue sky, centering in on their unsuspecting targets, Lindim reconnaissance and communication satellites.

Earth Orbit

It took only two seconds longer to reach the orbiting, now stalking KS-6 series satellites. Each was armed with two light missiles held within the central storage system. Upon receiving the firing code, the bay doors to the sides of the killer satellites blew off, and small arms extended from each. When at their full reach, tiny motors started their ignition, and raced from the satellite. With their computer targeting system, they homed in on their prey. And within one meter each detonated. The warheads contained large pellets, small solid balls of six inch diameters. The shaped charge blew the debris forward in crossing cone patterns. The idea being to send the shrapnel, not slowed by any noticeable friction through the satellite, if not outright destroying the machine, then by making it an expensive piece of Swiss Cheese.

After missile detonation, the KS birds completed their assignments by firing their one remaining engine that would propel them on a collision course of what would be left of the Lindim satellites.

HMS Yorke

Varshow walked over to the Admiral, now sitting in his chair, reviewing the latest satellite imagery. “General Patterson has confirmed that the pizza is being delivered. We should know if delivery was successful shortly.”

“Thank you, lieutenant. I’ve always like pizza with pepperoni. I can’t wait to go home and order some bloody pizza. My grandkids would love it.”

OOC: Mattvia, where are you? Avios, or Lindim?
The problem is I think your in a different time zone, so when your posting I'm sleeping. And when I post you sleep.

HIMS World:
"Sir in coming message" an ensign said.
"OK, play it."
The ensign played the message, the message told them to go to the back of the fleet.
The commodore walked over to the phone marked engine room, picked it up.
"Were going to turn round to the back of the fleet, get the engines ready." The Commodore instructed. He waited for a while, then a voice came onto the other side.
"Ready sir." The man said.
"OK" Lancaster replied.
Lancaster put the phone back and turned around.
"Right then, take us to the back of the fleet."
"Aye sir" The man by the rudder wheel said.
A young lieutenant came who had been listening walked over to the commodore.
"Sir, should I give the order to sound the alarm?" he asked.
"Do".

HIMS World, Kitchen:

Sailor Barny was with his mate sailor Jim, they went way back, they met each other when they first joined the navy back in 1990. Eventhough they were on the same ship, they didn't see each other much.
"Yeah so, I'm a farther!" Barny told Jim excitedly.
"Oh well done, so how old is it?" Jim asked.
Then the alarm went, and the commodores voice came over the intercom, "Action stations, action stations."
All the men ran to there battle stations.

OOC: Azazia, this fleet of Socialists? The ones poised to attack PN's ships? I'm at school right now, so I don't have the exact numbers with me, but here is a rough estimate.

1 light carrier (at full capacity)
10 destroyers of varying classes
6 frigates of varing classes
3 heavy cruisers
1 battleship
3 replenishing ships of various types

At the moment, you have the battleship and the aforementioned escort with him; the carrier, three cruisers, and two frigates are hanging back.

Tenb, Loyalist HQ

"Shit!" Nuhmi cried, looking at a stack of papers a private had handed him. "Shit, shit, shit!" Tirrew was as surprised as he was worried. The general rarely had an outburst, however gruff he was, and if Nuhi was beginning to curse something bad was happening, was going to happen, or had happened. Either way, Tirrew was concerned.

"General?"

Nuhmi turned and nearly threw the papers at Tirrew, restraining himself at the last moment to hand them over. "Look! I mean, look at that! All of our satellites have gone off the maps! Gone! I mean, we detected a missile launch before nearly everyone one of them just disappeared! Shit!"

Tirrew sighed and tossed the sheets onto the table between the general and him. Him, acting Prime Minister. Nice thought, but at the wrong time for the wrong reasons. Tirrew wished that tariffs were the wrost thing he would face every morning, but the time for that had passed. "Okay, well, if we don't have any satellite communications or recon photos neither do she." Tirrew didn't have to say who she was. Tre.

Nuhmi smashed his hand onto the desk and shook his head angrily. "Small comfort that that is. I'm sure she'll find another country willing to let her bounce signals off their satellites. Dammit, we needed those satellites to track them."

"As she us. Even if she sends up a recon plane, we can still stop that too. No we can mobilize mor armored divisions without her sending a bombing run after us. Speaking of which, the Third Armored Division took a heavy hit today but is now moving in against Nolit, that Socialist air base."

"So they've got Iova?"

Tirrew nodded and adjusted his reading glasses. The cheap things kept on slipping off his nose. "Yes, but we are going to get a chance to strike back at their naval-"

Nuhmi, however, seemed to ignore Tirrew. Tirrew stopped talking and looked at the general. "Sir," Nuhmi said, a puzzled expression across his face, "Is there any reason they wanted Iova so badly?"

Tirrew shrugged, he realy didn't understand much military strategy, but he did know politics. "Symbolic and emotional gesture?"

Nuhmi shook his head and tapped his fingers along the wooden table. "No, no, not after such a hard fight. There has got to be a reason..."

Tirrew exhaled heavily and sat back. "Yeah, anyways, any news on the insertion team from PN?" When Nuhmi shook his head absent mindedly, Tirrew just went back to the reports of the missile attacks from Avios. And now with the satillets damaged, Tirrew began to doubt Lindim would ever be the same...

***************

Booni Islands, Northern Coast

Commander Inaen bit her fingers nervously. This extra Azazian fleet was bad, but they had to deviate from their mission to do it. Inaen nearly screamed in frustration. She had to, but she hated taking the first move. But she had to. The orders from Tre were clear that any foreign naval presence in Lindimese waters had to be negated, and that that was a higher priority than stopping landings. But why?

Breolli reappeared by her side. "The cruisers are in firing range, off the port side. We have our five sixteen inchers ready for shorter range battles, but the Harpoons should easily take them."

Inaen smiled. Her ship's armor was almost imprentrable, even towards missiles on the order of Tomahawks or AS-4. "They've noticed us?"

"For sure. And they've probably ordered out an air strike."

Inaen didn't care about that; her four frigates in escort should be able to sufficiently negate that threat. "I want six quads against these ships, and move our destroyers around them to move in on the Azazian destroyers. And where the hell are our subs?"

Breolli saluted and walked off. "I'll take care of it," he called out over his shoulders. Inaen sighed. She would have to enforce discipline on the man.

Six Quad Harpoon launchers swiveled around and targetted the enemy ships. And fired. Meanwhile, six destroyers ran along at thirty knots around the ensuing battle to flank the Azazian destroyers.

OOC: Feel free to return fire at the same time. I think the battleship has only a slightly larger range that your cruisers, but not by much, Hope I didn't godmod with my battleship suddenly within your cruisers' range.

HIMS Command Room:

Commodore Lancaster was sitting in his chair, red lights flashing all around him. He hoped they wouldn't attack him, they were out of there range, all tough he had instructed his radar operators to be careful, an hour ago radar had spotted missiles heading to wards the Azazia fleet. The only thing they could do was to stay quiet, just in case of submarines.
Lancaster was getting more and more anxious, he wanted to get past this damn fleet, and get the infantry over there. Lindim loyalists had asked for help as soon as possible, that was nearly a day and a half ago. And they hadn't contacted them, they were most likely dead. This had gone terribly wrong in his eyes. His objectives were to bring peace and stability to Lindim and protect the civilian, they were meant to be peace keepers, but it seemed to him that they were now in a war with the Lindim rebels, which is not what he wanted to do.

On board the HIMS Terror:

Newport had got his orders, they were going back to the island of Kir Meer, the Mattvian outpost.
The submarine had surfaced and could know see Kir Meer on the horizon.

HMS Yorke

The stand-off continued. Apparently, The flyboys at home had been able to get something right for once. Lindim's satellite reconnaissance was knocked out, as was their long-range communication. Reinforcements would soon be dispatched, and this Lindim fleet wouldn't know it until his own battleship started throwing her shells into their ships. He slowly sipped his cup of tea, Earl Grey with two spoonfuls of sugar and a bit of milk when the normal white lights switched to red. He glanced up at the LCD screens on the upper tier of the compartment wall, BATTLE STATIONS, BATTLE STATIONS was all it read. Soon after, a voice repeating the call aired over the ship's loudspeakers.

"Captain Wilshire, what in the hell is going on?" Atkinson yelled, his voice deafening in this small compartment.

"Outer frigates, Watchdog bird, and satellites have all reported missiles launches. Harpoon missiles. Two dozen, inbound. Projected tracks have them targeting... computer reports the Breningrad and the Artega. I've already alerted their commanders, sir. In addition, enemy destroyers... counted six, are attempting to flank us."

Atkinson steamed... so much for negotiations now... "Wilshire, speed of the enemy destroyers?"

"Approximately 30 knots, sir, give or take five."

"Davenport, the Sovereign on that flank of the battle group, at thirty knots they wouldn't be able to detect her, correct?"

"Correct, sir."

"Weapons load?"

"Standard Mk-80 torpedoes, both conventional and nuclear. In addition AS-90 cruise missiles."

"Those things are fast... Order the Sovereign to fire everything she's got at those destroyers. In addition, I want the destroyers Garibald and Newport to fire a salvo of 10 missiles each. Targeting is at their discretion. Wilshire, the cruisers, have them arm their Thor anti-missile systems if not already. They're authorized to launch whatever they have before their batteries are knocked out of action. Launch a wave of attack aircraft, loaded with counter-measures and missiles."

HMS Sovereign

"Conn, sonar, we have six bandits approaching mighty fast. Speed thirty knots."

Captain Yevgenny Ruskov let his mouth fall open briefly... at that speed, they'll never hear us, to much damn engine noise... "Weapons, loadouts for forward tubes 1 through 6?"

"1 through 4 Mk-80 torps, 5 and 6 AS-90 missiles."

"Flood tubes, open outer doors. Lock in a firing solution. AS-90s to the lead boats, torps for the rest."

"Flooding tubes, opening outer doors, aye." His XO called out, "Weapons officer, flood tubes and open outer doors when ready. Plot firing solution for AS-90s to Bandits One and Two, torpedoes to Bandits Three through Six."

The submarine stayed in her position, not moving as the destroyers passed within two kilometers of the sub. The small noise of opening the outer doors was the only sign given by the sub before two missiles and four torpedoes leapt from their tubes.

The AS-90s were not the most advanced in the fleet, the Sovereign was due to receive her replacements upon next home port call, but for now they would have to do. Upon breaching the surface, the AS-90s reached a speed of Mach 2.5. Ordinarily they would cruise below the speed of sound to their targets, but at such close ranges, the missiles were in the final attack phase of their flights at launch. They flew just above the water, skimming the waves as it were, so it would be difficult to detect, and at such high speeds, nearly impossible to shoot down.

The torpedoes, however, were far slower. Racing at a pace of 50 knots they used homed in on the noise generated by their targets, and at 30 knots, the Mk-80s had what an animal would say as fat, juicy targets. Upon entering close range, to break acoustic lock on decoys, the torpedoes would join their passive listening to a short range active sonar search, and find the large destroyers over their smaller decoys.

On the Sovereign, Captain Ruskov ordered a rocket torpedo loaded immediately for snap defense as well as two more AS-90s (ooc: complement of 6 on board, so minus two you have four left) and the remainder Mk-80 torpedoes.

HMS Breningrad

Captain Raleigh had heard the first alert of inbound missiles and had raced back to the inside bridge and down to the combat center. “What do we got, Matthew?”

The weapons officer didn’t bother to look up from his screen, “A total of two-four Harpoon missiles. Tracking indicates that they are probably targeting us and the Artega.”

“Bastards certainly target big for their first time. Alright, the forward guns are to be set to air-defense, rapid fire. Medium range surface to air missile batteries are to be warmed up for immediate launch, hand control over to computer targeting system. In addition, both the Thor and Mars close-in-defence-systems are to be activated. I want to launch thirty of our SS-32s at their destroyers not racing to the flank; I understand our brothers beneath the waves are handling them.

The forward VLS cells opened their hatches in successive order as the SS-32 anti-ship cruise missiles roared up into the sky, fishtailing a bit as they gained control. Each packed a warhead of 350 kilograms, but raced at supersonic speeds towards their target. They would give the enemy perhaps a maximum of thirty seconds to act in self-defense. They raced past the Royal Navy ships and for a moment all looked right in the world as Lindim and Azazian missiles passed each other in mid-flight, but each side then flew on to its deadly destiny.

The Artega, Raleigh noted, was following the Breningrad’s lead. However, the commands issued by his opposite commander had the twenty-four SS-32s bracketing the battleship. Hmm, it would be interesting to see what damage they cause…

Open Seas

The outer frigates protecting the Commonwealth Royal Navy and the Mattvian HIMS World succeeded in taking out three of the slow-moving Harpoons with their Thor close-in-gun system and Mars, the close-in-missile system. However, all of the four frigates suffered heavy damage after being struck by the missiles. They were simply overwhelmed. It would take several long excruciating hours, but two of the ships would eventually slip beneath the waves. The other two maintained some function, they could still hunt submarines, but all surface action, with the exception of the frigate Tuliers which still had its five inch gun operational, was out of the question. Half of the Harpoons were still left inbound, but it was still twelve missiles… a more than deadly and capable force. The destroyers in front of the cruisers, carrier, and Mattvian ship engaged the Harpoons with their own anti-missile systems. The destroyer Dimm was hit in the forward superstructure, resulting in the death of the ship’s captain and second officer. Before impact, she had managed to knock out one of the Harpoons. The remaining three had better luck, although each sustained a hit… damage was light to moderate, casualties minimal. Four Harpoons raced towards the Breningrad and Artega.

The Breningrad class battlecruiser was more of an arsenal ship than a cruiser; however its speed and the traditional sensibilities of the Royal Navy left it with the popular designation of battlecruiser. Forward were located three five inch rapid fire guns that would spew cluster munitions designed to shred the warhead to pieces. Behind these were located the medium range surface-to-air missile batteries. They fired four missiles on each ship, and the Artega was spared, however after all the concentrated fire, still two Harpoons raced towards the Breningrad.

Deep within the ship, Raleigh watched the viewscreen as the close-in-missile system leapt into action, rolling off missile after missile in what became more apparent as a vain action. The Thor system fired off twenty millimeter shell after shell. Cheers went up as one Harpoon was destroyed, its debris littering the forecastle.

And then the ship went dark briefly as it rolled heavily in the seas. Screams punctured the deafening explosion that was felt throughout the ship. Lights came back on since the reactor itself wasn’t damaged and it was a mere temporary interruption, however, the executive officer looked over to the captain to find that a poorly welded piece of the ceiling had collapsed from the vibrations. The jagged metal edge had managed to slice into Raleigh’s head, where it remained embedded. The corrugated metal deck soon found itself covered in warm, sticky blood.

“Gentlemen,” the XO solemnly declared, “I am now in command.”

ooc: short summation, significant damage, but not enough to come close to crippling the fleet. Four frigates out of action, one destroyer decapitated (of course it’s not out of action thank you redundancy), four destroyers suffering minor damage to their forward VLS cells, two five inch guns knocked out, one battlecruiser hit and decapitated. Slight damage to forward anti-aircraft missile battery, two five inch guns out of action, otherwise undamaged.

L.V.S. Caring, Barrage-class destroyer

Winilia was excited. She controlled her excitement as she worked the radars, duly noting down and reporting enemy fleet positions, but still. She was fighting for socialism! She was going to liberate the lower-class oppresed people! Her mother at mom, with her apron on and working the oven would be so proud of her-

"Shit! Sir! We've got reports of crippling torpedo strikes to the Withdrawl and Bravado! Hell, we've got reports fromt he entire destroyer flank!" an officer shouted from his battle station, "I mean, on fuck!"

Winilia heard a dull thud right before the floor beneath spun upwards, the gray metal spinning around her. Screams echoed all around her as last-minute, futile orders for deocys or dorrs being shut off or anythign to be done. Then her head hit hard against the walls, and she never woke up.

***************

L.W.S. Fell Swoop

I ordered those men and women to their deaths, Inaen mused solemnly as reports of more than half the destroyers crippled or fatally damaged streamed in, the ones who had survived used decoys. She had ordered them too fast; she had not expected enemy submarine presences so suddenly. None of the sonars had picked them up. The cold, metal shell she lived in never felt more oppresive or overbearing.

But there as no time for brooding. "Ma'am, the radars are lit up with their cruise missile salvo and we have about twenty or so heading towards us, the rest are finishing off what's left of the destroyers. We have all AM defences on the air already, as per your orders."

Inaen nodded and stood up, becoming the Commander once more. She had to corect her mistake, if only for those who died because of them. "Call in all subs we can, and the entire Northern Fleet," she barked harshly, her grim smile spreading across her face. It's not overkill, it's smart tactics. Not like they're doing anything else. I'll show those Azazian bastards... they killed my men! She ignored the look on the communications officer's face and continued. "Call into our light carrier. I want thirty cruise missiles back at these cruisers. Now!"

"Ma'am, the enemy m-"

Just as, almost one half a kilometer away, bay doors on a light carrier opened one after another in a rapid-fire succession of rockets flaring from the Tomahawks engines, the Azazia cruise missiles became death. Every destroyer was ruined, unable to fight or sinking to the bottom of the sea, and orange, inflatable rafts blossomed over the blue ocean.

The cruise missiles from the Azazian fleet did something that Inaen carried with her as she saw her ship, her beautiful, world-class and invincible ship crumple before her eyes. The missiles seemed to pass through any AM systems, missiles, guns. Those warhead carrying rockets were on the wings of spirits.

As fired ripped through the Swoop, water swooping through the the armored hull unable to withstand the penetration of twenty cruise missiles, Inaen did something she had never done before. She prayed.

Tre, win.

OOC: Okay, I'll finish this post up with submarine movements, and the fleet moving in soon. THis will be in my next post, about, oh, an hour or two from now. Also, the frigates have moved back as fast as they can to teh carrier and the rest fo the fleet.

1 Yu-class heavy carrier
4 Derrin Mo-class fleet carriers
2 Languin Alg-class light carriers
1 Torrent-class heavy strike ship
5 Sea Barrier-class nuclear powered battleships
5 Lunmarin Isle-class guided missile battlecruisers
10 Linc Fighter-class heavy missile cruisers
15 Steadfast Tsunami-class missile cruisers
20 Barrage-class destroyers
25 Loon-class frigates
30 Blessed Waters-class corvettes
10 Lightening Eel-class fast missile boats
10 Glacier-class mine clearance vessels
4 Endgame-class nuclear powered attack submarines

is what's coming for the Azazians and the Pacific Northwestians.

HMS Yorke

Atkinson cursed loudly upon receiving confirmation from the Artega that the Breningrad was hit. His former flagship. One of the worst things about naval warfare, without a doubt, Atkinson thought, was that the most beautiful and graceful ships are always lost. Or mauled. Or crippled. So it was here. Some of those Lindim ships seemed rather graceful, as did the Breningrad… and now they were all lost.

Not entirely, however, the Breningrad could still fight, throw up missiles and was capable… he’d say maybe 85-90% full capacity. Still problematic, however. In the midst of his thoughts, he was again interrupted.

“Admiral, their group carrier has just launched thirty cruise missiles, targeting the cruisers.”

Atkinson glanced down at his tabletop computer display, where it showed thirty inbound cruise missiles. Without the protection of the outer defences, it would now be almost entirely on the shoulders of the men and women on those two cruisers.

HMS Breningrad

Commander Calvin Locke stood next to the corpse of his former commander, Captain Raleigh. He had just assumed command when the weapons officer’s weary voice broke the silence. “Commander, thirty cruise missiles have just been launched from their carrier.”

“Damnit to hell… not even a moment to bury our dead. Alright, launch… ten of our remaining thirty SS-32s, target that damn carrier. This will be our swan song gentleman, the we will sink that carrier if it is the last thing we do.” The weapons officer carried out his orders while Locke turned to face the navigator, “Johnny, turn us about as quick as you can, noise is no factor. Bring to bear our rear air defenses. Turn from the rear, try to increase distance, buy us some seconds.”

South of the cruisers Breningrad and Artega, the frigate Tuliers opened fire on the passing cruise missiles with her five inch gun. Almost wholly ineffective, she brought down one. Sending twenty-nine on to face the remaining destroyer screen.

The destroyer group, although damaged, had been spared crippling blows. This time, remarked several officers, they were even luckier, the missiles they were targeting appeared to be going after the cruisers. The ships threw up their surface to air missiles and laid a wall of lead from their rapid fire guns as they attempted to knock down as many missiles as possible. The two destroyers closest to the missiles’ path were even able to engage them with their close-in systems. Missiles and machine guns bullets were sent aloft. Anything to help those ships. Subsequent to the missiles passing by, the destroyers launched each a salvo of five SS-32 missiles at the remaining frigates while the cruisers’ missiles targeted that carrier.

Locke watched on his cracked display map as the destroyers blew eleven missiles out of the sky. But there were still eighteen missiles heading for his ship and the Artega. Meanwhile the ship was in full reverse turning to her port while the Artega did the same but to starboard. Their lives, however, were measured in seconds, not hours.

Locke listened to the reactors pumping their mechanical hearts out, the steam turbines running at 115% percent speed, groaning of the ship’s hull as she moved in reverse, not a direction typically given the highest priority by engineers. Then, he heard the familiar whoosh of missiles lifting from the VLS cells. Unfortunately, they weren’t his forward battery that had been damaged by the first salvo. It could be repaired, but it would have taken time that he simply did not have. The remaining five inch gun, along the hull’s long center axis, began to pump its shells into the sky at the still invisible missiles. He had no doubt that the Artega was firing as well, this was for their very survival.

The seconds ticked as Locke calmly buckled himself into Raleigh’s former command seat. The same seat that Raleigh had been sitting in not more than ten minutes ago. The close-in systems opened up, rapid firing missiles and twenty millimeter shells flew into the sky in that last ditch attempt to save the Breningrad.

Locke felt a jolt, and then the world went black.

HMS Yorke

Atkinson stared coldly at the screen in front of him. A pounding. They had taken a pounding. Miraculously, they were barely both afloat.

Unfortuantely, all communication had been lost with the Breningrad, and the Artega was sending off spotty and irregular radio transmissions. A total of ten missiles had hit the two ships. Six went straight into the Breningrad, and the other four into the Artega. Whatever the hell Raleigh had done just then, it had worked. Bringing the rear five inchers to bear and the rear port side close-in systems had been able to bring down a few. But it was still six missiles.

And she was still afloat. Despite her modernizations and complete overhauls, she was one of the oldest ships currently in service in the Royal Navy. By sheer luck, she was still afloat. The Artega, had certainly faired better. She could at least communicate, and apparently unlike the Breningrad still had ample power. He had ordered immediately the rear-guard destroyers to advance and pick up survivors.

Atkinson turned his attention to the other panel, to see what had happened to the remaining enemy fleet…

ooc: don't worry, i'm not godmodding and having both cruisers survive, but i don't want to get into fleshing out the damage until your carrier and frigates get hit... more realistic and interesting (story-line wise) that way, but they did suffer heavy damage suffice to say.

By the way, how long until those other ships arrive as reinforcements? I'm assuming that since they were out of weapons range, it would at least be a day or so?

Ministry of Foreign Affairs

"They did what? --- Blew up their whole damn satellite network? --- But why? --- Military necessity, who coined that phrase... well anyway, Sam, I've got to get back to work. Take care." Ivan Valovich hung up the phone.

The military always managed to screw things up... damn that impetuous Blair fellow. It isn't as if he couldn't get in touch with... Tirrew was the man's name... their new PM... but it would mean redeploying a communication satellite. And that would take... well... actually not that long.

But it was the mere principle of the matter.

Five Minutes Later

"Yes, use our new relay to send this satellite signal to Lindim's Interim Prime Minister Tirrew: I apologize for the destruction of your satellite network, the Royal Navy deemed it to be of utmost military necessity. I am receiving vague reports of a massive sea battle being engaged off the coast... of I believe they are called the Booni Islands if I am not mistaken.

"I write to inform you that the Commonwealth has regretfully entered into a full and open conflict with your nation. Apparently a great deal of lives have been lost already in this battle, and it apparently may be getting... a great deal worse. To this end, the Royal Navy Admiralty has approached me and informed me to instruct you that should push come to shove, there are nuclear weapons aboard that battlegroup. And a second battlegroup that shall arrive in two day's time. As I am not familiar with all this military technology talk, perhaps your assistants can tell you something about an electro-magnetic pulse... which is why they are planning on detonating a nuclear blast above the rebel fleet. I have tried to stop them, I assure you, but they are quite determined that that may be their only recourse. Our intelligence has detected quite a sizeable force approaching our small flotilla.

"In other regards, about your loss of satellites, the Commonwealth is willing to lease you bandwith on our own network until such time as Lindim can replace its satellites after this conflict. Until then, I have been instructed to tell you any satellite put in orbit will be shot down. Consequently, we will be assisting you should you wish in replacing your network.

"About rescuing your Prime Minister... well... that is on hold until this whole... naval affair is concluded. That's apparently some big part of their plan. I apologize for my lack of insight in military affairs, I am a mere diplomat, I hope you understand."

Valovich signed off on the message and sent it off to Lindim's apparent new PM.

OOC: I was worried that I was godmodding. :p Anyways, like I have said, excellent RPing. Okay, I'll try to match you! :D

And yes, due to the fact they are far out of weapons range, except about a day for the rest of the First North Fleet to arrive. In this post I'll just RP damages, my submarines will counterattack later tonight. Real life tonight, that is.

Weeping Palm, Languin Alg-class light carrier

The Azazian missiles were a beautiful sight to an objective observer, their graceful ballet of interweaving tails of dancing molecules dissappating into the night air, cool breezes warmed up and dissolved by the stream of missiles.

AM system awoke and discovered their nemesis, the very things which they were programmed to defeat, to annihilate completely. Guns from the frigates and carriers sprang to life and spewed forth a steady hail of bullets, ripping apart most of the small group of missiles. But five missiles survived. One missile went slightly off-target and spun upwards, hitting the communications tower of the Weeping Palm. The other missile continued towards its target and crumpled as it hit the hull of the carrier, perhaps only a millisecond pause of peace, of pure kinetic energy before a charge went off and the warhead exploded.

The remaining three missiles all conspired together and weaved a web of smoke as they shot towards a frigate off the starboard side of the carrier. The frigate was destroyed, and through improper and dangerous beaucratic mistake, there were no lifeboats aboard the frigate. The frigate had been an example of the simple elegance Lindim esteemed in their engineers, with its graceful sweep of the hull from the bow to the stern, utterly poetic in water. The frigate was now a twisted hulk of dead metal, a prison to the men and women it had born through the waters of their nation. They had believed themselves patriots. They had died for that belief.

223 men and women died that day. 1,034 people would be flooded wih grief.

And one Admiral. Rain Admiral Runad Sero, a man who believed abosolutely in the defence of his country, the youngest Rain Admiral ever, and was currently serving on a fleet carrier in the First Northern Fleet. Sero was considered the most brilliant strategic mind Lindim has had in two centuries. Sero was devoted to Tre.

Locke awoke to whirring and beeping and mumbling and talking and screaming and dieing. His eyes creaked open, blinking rapidly at the massive influx of bright white light into his pupils.

“Easy there, son, you had a mighty blow to the head, but you’re alright now.”

“Where, where am I?”

The prior blob of color, of yellow ochre and crimson and white coalesced into the face of an older man… a familiar man… but his head still ached. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember…

“You’re on board the Yorke, Commander. I’m proud of you. I’m proud of your men. I’m proud of your ship. You somehow managed to do it. The Lindim carrier group has been decimated. I’m proud of all of you.” The lines on the face became clearer as did the brown in the eyes, and the white of the hair.

“Where’s my crew, how’s Walter’s ship?”

The man’s face seemingly scrunched together, lines darkening in shadow, creases appearing from where they were not seconds before. “Commander, Walter didn’t make it. When we found him he was already gone. Your crew, some survived. About 250 or so. The others… they didn’t make it. Your ship, the Breningrad. It took a beating but was still floating when I stepped off her. You and your crew held her together. However, we’re pulling out of the area and she simply can’t maneuver. We had to scuttle the ship. But I have to go now, Commander, things to attend to… you’ll get better… take care.”

As the old man walked away from Locke’s bed, Locke’s prison he began to see the insignia of an admiral…

HMS Yorke

Admiral Atkinson was greatly disappointed. It was true, Locke had done a superb job in the situation. Facing an entire volley of missiles. Hell, not only did he keep some men alive, even though most would die of radiation poisoning, but the Breningrad was afloat until the Artega’s remaining gun worked with the explosive charges to send her to the bottom of the sea.

The two ships had taken a pounding. The Breningrad’s reactor room was breached by a hit and the ship became contaminated. Quick thinking sailors sealed off the forward half of the ship, but nearly 200 men were sealed in that half of the ship. With the more than 150 men killed by the impacts themselves, most of the ship’s complement of 750 men were dead. And those that came off the Breningrad, including Locke, had exposure to radiation. Locke was lucky, he ahd been brought topside almost immediately after the cessation of hostilities, that spared him. Two weeks or so perhaps 75 men would still be alive. Some of them would be permanently scarred, many incapable of having children.

But he felt worse for the Lindimese. With the massive holes in the side of the Breningrad, she sunk off the Lindim coast leaking heavily radioactive fuel into the ocean. Atkinson didn’t even want to contemplate the horrors that would await those living off the waters in this area of the nation. This rebellion “for the people” was going to end up killing far more than it ever should have.

Since the end of the battle, which the Royal Navy was calling a victory… however hollow Atkinson thought it to be; intelligence had reported the dispatch of a great and powerful Lindim fleet. Its arrival would be the early hours of tomorrow, and so he had ordered the withdrawal of the Yorke battle group further north. There was no way in this battered shape that he could ever hope to face off against whoever replaced his counterpart in the rebel fleet. He had stripped the Breningrad of whatever non-contaminated ammunition he could find. The floating hulks of the frigates were also cannibalized for ammunition. Then they too were scuttled. The valiant little Tuliers, actually set to be decommissioned next year was performing the last duties of collecting survivors, both Azazian and Lindimese (ooc: I'm presuming, Lindim, that there were survivors, if not they simply look but don't find). Lightly armed, but fast, she would catch up to the rest of the battle group after departing the battle site… the graveyard Atkinson reminded himself, in a few hours… before the Lindimese arrived. The Artega was still afloat, most of her missile batteries had been emptied or damaged, and she was steaming at 35 knots due north to rendezvous with a resupply ship. In fact, by this time tomorrow, when the new Lindim fleet arrived, he would be hundreds of kilometers away, restocked with weapons. Awaiting the next move.

But for now, Atkinson realized that the best hope the Lindim people had was the fleet of Pacific Northewestians. He wished he could do more, but he couldn’t. As such, he prepared a message for their commanding officer.

Attn: Admiral Michaels.
From: Admiral Atkinson, Commander Royal Navy HMS Yorke Carrier Group

Comrade, we were attempting to wait in the area to provide assistance, but the enemy engaged us rather prematurely. In the ensuing battle we lost one battlecruiser and one frigate, however, that does little justice to the over 1500 men we lost today. And the fact that all of our remaining frigates are incapable of significant surface or anti-air action. Our destroyers are running patch-worked. And we are nearly out of ammunition.

The enemy you will be going up against consists of: [insert Lindim’s Northern Fleet group info as a satellite image – except subs of course]

The rebel forces are tenacious and they fight well and honorably. Regretfully, I never was able to get in touch with my opponent. I doubt at this point that they will surrender, but I am not certain. There is now a significant threat to their people as our sunk battlecruiser was powered by a nuclear reactor which had its shielding breached, and despite its scuttling is leaking a great amount of heavily radioactive material into the ocean around the Booni Islands. Perhaps this will make them leery of continuing to fight us.

Should the force you engage become too numerous we have nuclear assets in the area that I am authorized to use to offset the numerical advantage of the Lindim forces. Basically, a large area EMP blast to destroy the electronic systems of the Lindim fleet. This of course means radioactive fallout on that fleet, and so it is to be hopefully an unused last resort.

Good luck. God speed.

Admiral Atkinson, Commander Royal Navy HMS Yorke Carrier Group

Grand Presidental Residence, Osaria
0302

"Mr. President, your suggestion?", one of the aides asked as he finished briefing the President on the recent matters within Lindim. While waking up at 2AM wasn't exactly he wanted, this matter was a very important one, and as the Parliament still hasn't spoke on the matter, they simply could not have the Parliament starting another 1 month-long session on this again. And while the Parliament did gave permission for the deployment of a small task force, they still needed a full evaluation regarding this chain of incidents . They could not fail their new ally, but as much as they wanted to commit their forces, the situation was equally confusing.

The President raised his head as he skimmed over the endless pile of documents and examined the situation. Behind him, is a map of the world. Somewhere on that map has to be Lindim, and while he knew Lindim well, he just couldn't fully grasp the situation there. "Moran, did you call Minister Noran?", he jotted some notes down as he brainstormed. The Foreign Minister usually had some good ideas, but to the President, Noran was still sometimes to reserved or even isolationist. But that didn't matter. What mattered was whether the Minister wanted to help.

The aide replied promptly. "Indeed, I called him sir, and he has expressed his concern about the incident. From what he told me, he is willing to authorize sending help to the government at Lindim, but from what he sounded like, he didn't like the idea of military deployment. As you know, the Army is currently engaged in a series of training exercises, along with the Air Force."

The President's face transformed into an expression of confusion and rage. "Sounded like? I want an answer from him. While I agree with him that we do not want to meddle with other people's internal affairs, and while this may cause a stirring against the Socialists because of the idelogies, it is my belief that we must lend a helping hand to our allies. Tell him that, and let him see me as soon as possible," he frowned and sipped a mouthful of coffee. "We must get this matter sorted off as soon as possible, and the security chief also has a lot to do in regards to the current state and status of this conflict. By the way, tell them that this is emergency for us. No need for them to go to the breakfast table. I want to see them immediately," he ordered with a desire to sort this out quickly. While he can still maintain his patience, he cannot lag behind and beign unable to assist their allies.

The aide smiled faithfully, but still trying to maintain a hint of seriousness to avoid the undesirable consequencies. "Yes, sir. I will call them immediately, and we ran out of coffee in that heater."

"Ran out!?", the President asked with a sense of rage. He was clearly irritated, and as nothing but a caffeine addict with a title of Honourable President, coffee was exactly what he needed. "Anyways, we must get this done immediately."

The aide looked back but didn't dare to say another word. Although the President is one of the better people he had met in his rise to absolute power, the President's demand for coffee has always been a little problem for him. "Yes, sir," he said as he stepped out of the toom. Didn't the President had his own satellite phone?... "Admiral!", he suddenly exclaimed as a great smile was on his face. The Hairless Admiral has been back. Everyone knew him, and liked him, and despite his young age, he had got along with the President's gang quite well. "Fleet Admiral Ba... Admiral Bonkares! How nice to see you!", the aide greeted him, while regretting that he almost called the Admiral "Baldhead".

The Admiral, sporting a full five stars as one of the most powerful submariners within the Omzian military, pretended to smile. While he had his own desire and quest for a rise of power and status, the matters around Lindim is too troubling to be ignored. Surely, as he thought, the Omzian Navy has to be used again. And this would be a good opportunity. Thinking about his idea, he waved at the aide as he left off, and opened the President's door. "President Vansare, it is good to see you, sir. I might have an idea."

President Vansare listened, and thought about it. "First, get me Captain Donares. He is the naval liason there, and I want to hear what he thinks."

============================

Submarine GK-122, Off the Coast of Hogan Point

The submarine, a massive Orca class, slipped through the waves silently as it left the submarine pen with one of the newest upgrades. But even the crews inside were refrained to say it, as the Underseas Warfare Department was one of the most "secretive" within th Omzian military, minus Military Intelligence and the Strategic Forces troops. The captain, Captain Turner, was one of the most carefully selected within the Omzian Navy. A somewhat reserved man, he is known to obey commands from the Omzian Navy, and the only thing he needed was some form of political indoctrination to keep his allegiance and loyalty. Although still not one of the best when it comes to those regular exercises with the regular attack submarines, his discipline, coolhead-like and non-"cowboy"-like tendencies was one of the major reason of why the Great and Despised Gang of the Admirals chose him for the job of commanding the largest $10 billion dollar submarine within Omzian service, and had put a total of over four hundred missiles of various types under the tip of his fingers.

"Captain, new transmission received," the radioman informed him as he was just about to check the plotting board again. We were supposed to continue a three week patrol here, and they called us back after two days!?, the Captain thought as he walked over to the maze of touch screens, trackballs and joysticks. The radioman handed him a small card, with the message. He was startled and surprised by the content.


//MESSAGE START
START
CC HDQRTR WEST FLT CMDWESTFLTa

YOU ARE TO IMMEDIATELY BREAK OFF YOUR PRESENT PATROL AND RETURN TO BASE WITHIN A TIMEFRAME OF THREE HOURS FOLLOWING 1200 LOCAL TIME. YOU WILL BE BRIEFED AND THE SUBMARINE UNIT WILL BE FITTED FOR OVERSEAS OPERATION OF AT LEAST 2 WKS. BECAUSE OF EVOLVING INCIDENTS AROUND THE GLOBE, YOU WILL BE INFORMED OF YOUR TASKS AT BASE. SEND CODE TO CONFIRM THAT YOU HAVE RECEIVED THIS MESSAGE

REGARDS

//END/
///END
end

ooc: Ok, I missed a hell of a lot, I'll jump in now helping out the Azazians. If I leave anything out, please remind me...

ic:
Commodore Fortino was staring at the radar monitor, intently, hardly blinking. The rebel Lindimese fleet was coming into range.
There had already been some action, and the enemy battlegroup was fairly heavily damaged. It should be a piece of cake, especially with the help from the Azazians. "XO, instruct our Destroyers to..." "Commodore!" burst in the comm officer. "Urgent message from the loyalists!" His battle plans would have to wait.
"Show me."
Fortino read the message in awe, swearing intermittently and looking worried. He had hoped to do this himself, without having to call Admiral Michaels for help. However, it looked like he was going to need reinforcements.
"Commodore, what's happened? Sir."
"It appears our weakened enemy has called for reinforcements. substantial reinforcements." He showed the list. "Hot damn! I see what they mean, we'll be 'needing some heavy artillery'."
"Comm, get on the horn with Admiral Michaels. Tell him... tell him we need reinforcements. Tell him... to bring the entire Third Expeditionary Fleet. As well as some heavy air support... we'll need at least 20 DD1-As. And maybe four DD1-Bs, to make sense of the big picture for us. And tell him that we're still going to be outgunned."
"Aye sir."
The Lieutenant gulped. "The Fighting Third will be outgunned, sir?" He was trying in vain to hide the shaking of his voice. "That's right, Lieutenant. Anything you want to say?" "Nosir. I mean... no. Nothing to say." Commodore Fortino pittied the young officer. He stood a good chance of dying. However, he had an obligation to the Lindimese and to the Lindimese PM, and at the very least he was going to make a fight out of it.
"Comm, send a reply to the interrim PM of Lindim. Thank him for the intelligence, and let him know that we'll attempt to insert the special ops before the naval battle to come. If we're lucky, they'll be able to end this thing before it starts."
"Gentlemen, let's make the most of the time we have left. When their reinforcements arrive, let's make sure that they don't have anything to reinforce." Normally, a statement of this nature would have garnered a rousing yell from his crew. However, noticing the tone of his voice, the bridge officers were silent. Eventually, "yessir." came the reply from the XO.
The Pacific Northwesterian task force, the 3rd Subgroup of Battlegroup Alpha, Third Expeditionary Fleet, began to move into fighting position. The seven Defiance Class Frigates formed up in front of the main group, in a small arc, in an attempt to shield the main force from enemy missiles. Their AM arcs were overlapping, for maximum defensive capability. Behind them were the three Centaur Class destroyers, as well as one Sabre Class. A Katori Class cruiser followed closely, with the flagship, a Lunar Class stealth carrier, nearby. The two remaining Sabre-class destroyers formed a sort of rear-guard, with their tremendous speed being a great advantage, allowing them to be moved into the action quickly. ASW pickets, including planes and helos, formed an anti-sub net around the group. It was stretched a little thin, but the idea was that once a sub was detected, more ASW craft could be brought up to make a more complete protective grid. CIWS were being warmed up, missiles prepped for launch, and gun turrets moved into position.
"Target their front ships with our long-range weapons.", ordered Fortino. "Hit the picket ships while their heavies are still our of range. If we can take down some of their AAW ships, our carrier might actually be useful. If they charge us, don't back down. We are fresh, they are battle-weary, and they still have the Azazians on their backs. We want to get in range just as badly as they do. Again, hopefully we'll be able to take their picket ships out before their battleship comes within range. No matter what, when that happens, loose a missile barrage. Is that clear?"
A resounding "Yes, Commodore!" echoed through the bridge. Now all that was left to do was to see what those damned traitors would do next.

OOC:
My entire fleet is moving forward, but here are the ships coming into firing range on your fleet:
3x Centaur Class Destroyers
1x Sabre Class Destroyers
7x Defiance Class Frigates
Each frigate is preparing to fire 4 VLS missiles at the ships in the front of the rebel formation (not the already-dead ones).
Each Centaur Class is preparing to fire 5 guided missiles.
The Sabre is preparing to fire 10 guided misiles.

None of this is happening yet, as that would be unfair to Lindim. However, as soon as you respond, consider 53 missiles (how did it get to be that big? I'm not even firing a lot...) as being launched at your outside ships. In fact, as soon as you continue your RP for a bit, you can assume that I fire (unless the situation changes drastically) and incorporate that into your RP.
The Third Expeditionary Fleet is made up of 3 battle groups (alpha-gamma), each of which is made up of 2-3 subgroups (8 in total). Each subgroup has either a carrier, a battleship, or two light carriers heading it up. I'll post the whole thing if anybody wants me to, but frankly it's too big to post unless it's needed.

Ok... somehow I missed that the entire (small) rebel fleet had been destroyed. I was in the area... in reality I would have helped out, and made the Azazian casualties much lighter. Unfortunately, too late to turn back the RP clock. Was there nothing left of the small fleet? That's unfortunate. I was looking forward to using a small force against a small force, for once. However, it looks like huge honking fleet vs. huge honking fleet time.

IC:
"Fire missiles!" Commander Fortino said with relish. "At what, sir?" asked the bemused XO. "The enemy fleet, what are you, daft?" "The enemy fleet's gone, sir. The Azazians must have cleaned them up for us. Too bad, some action would have suited me." "Me too. However, this is actually a good thing. Send the ACLCs out, as quietly as possible, to the specified rendezvous point. They'll know where to go because of phosphor flares in the area. I'll call ahead and say that they're coming... I've never seen an ACLC hit by a 5"-er, and I hope I never do. These boys are too good to be lost to friendly fire."
"Aye, sir."
To: Linits
From: Commodore Fortino, PN fleet command.
C/O: Interrim PM Tirrew
Sorry for the delay. Special ops (100 of them) on their way. They will be
arriving shortly in ACLCs, at the point we discussed earlier.
Make sure you hold your fire... we don't want any "accidents".
The battleship you warned us about has been defeated by our
Azazian allies, but unfortunately the enemy commander was able to
call for reinforcements before being sunk. We have reports of a huge
fleet coming towards us. We have our own reinforcements on the way,
and they should arrive in time, but even so it'll be a hard fight. The special
ops teams who are arriving should be able to help you on your search for
your PM. Hopefully, this rebellion can be ended before our fleets destroy
each other. Warm regards,
Commodore Fortino

To: Azazian Commander
From: Fleet Commodore Fortino
We, as well as the people of Lindim, are grateful for your contribution in
allowing my special forces to land and disposing of the enemy fleet. Soon,
as you are well aware, a much larger enemy fleet will be upon us. If they
are allowed to bombard the loyalist base, all may be lost. I have substantial
reinforcements en route, although unfortunately they will probably not be
enough. We would appreciate it greatly if you would stick with us, and
help us to give as much as we take from the enemy fleet. Our fleet is fresh:
we can resupply, rearm, and help to repair your vessels. But our need is
urgent. Every ship is needed. If you have reinforcements available, please
call them. There appears to be one last battle, and without your help, it
may go very badly.
Our plan, so far, is to retreat as much as possible without rendering the
loyalist base defenseless. This should give us time for our reinforcements
to arrive and, hopefully, for your ships to be repaired as fully as possible.
Please consider my request.
Respectfully,
Commodore Fortino

HMS Yorke

Atkinson stared at the communique he had just been handed. His force was rather ill-prepared to continue the fight. He would have the Avin Carrier Group as backup, but not until after the Lindimese reinforcements arrived. Until then, it was doubtful that his battle group could survive another prolonged attack. The original encounter was well balanced and well played, Atkinson knew he was fortunate to have a unified nation backing him. But now... now it was a wounded, beaten up, broken-boned David going against a fresh and well-rested Goliath. There was little chance the Royal Navy could do anything.

His mission orders had specified limited engagement to support the insertion of special operations troops. The Battle of Booni Island certainly qualified as a major engagement in his eyes. 1,500 men and women were now dead and buried at sea.

"Mr. Varshow, please send this message to Commodore Fortino:

Commodore, I must respectfully decline your request to aid you in your upcoming battle. My forces simply are in no shape for another engagement so soon. One day's rest will not do for repairs. Our ammunition, much of it is Commonwealth specific - a flaw perhaps, but its results speak in the tongue of the Lindim dead. My men are simply exhausted, too many of my ships are not even rated for combat anymore. In the days of cruise missiles, battles are both quick and deadly.

I do not think that even your sailors would be able to help us in this endeavor. The best I can do is to provide long range air support with our stealth fighter craft, but against seven carriers... I must begin to place doubts on even my unit's possibility of success.

My battle group will continue to pull away at high speed, however, before your engagement begins I will give orders that will hopefully serve to equal the fight.

HMS Swift

The submarine lay quiet on the bottom of the continental shelf. She rested on the ocean bed less than 50 meters from the still hot wreck of the Breningrad. The reactor core, still semi-shielded continued to function, continued to pump out highly energized particles that evaporated some water, inducing groans and creaks from the ever weakening metal. In addition, the metal served as a shield from any magnetic detection devices, as the Breningrad would serve as the big ticket item, and it was known by this point that she had gone down.

But once again, for one last time, the ship would serve its Royal Navy well...

To: Azazian Fleet Command
From: Commodore Fortino
We regret that you are unable to stay and fight. However, I understand
that, given your condition, it would be nothing short of suicide. After
hearing your description, I am forced to agree with you that your continued
involvement on the seas is impossible. However, your land-based air support
would be greatly helpful. Although you are correct that against seven
carriers your force may not be sufficient, it is much closer than you think.
I will be fielding six carriers, and will command a force of 526 carrier-based
aircraft. Also, I will have long-range high-altitude bombers at my disposal, to
weaken the enemy. Please inform me of the strength of your land-based
forces, so that I may plan my defense.
Your secretive suggestion that you had a way to even out the battle has
me worried, however. Do not use an EMP device above the Lindimese fleet,
unless you want to forgo all hopes that we might escape with a minor
battle. The poor Lindimese already have enough radiation in their water,
without needing more in their air, especially at a high enough altitude that it
would be effective. The winds at that level of the atmosphere would blanket
most of Lindim and possibly neighboring countries with nuclear fallout.
Again, do not use the EMP on our account. If we die, we will die with honor.
We all honor your sacrifice.
Godspeed,
Commodore Fortino

To: Commodore Fortino
From: Admiral Michaels
Re: Reinforcements
The news you sent is grave indeed. The remainder of the Third Expeditionary
Fleet has been dispatched to aid in your endeavor, and the DD-1 As and Bs
are in the air, being refueled. If the situation worsens, I will attempt to get
you further reinforcements. However, the First and Second expeditionary
fleets are currently on their way from the Arctic, so they will take a long
time, and the only viable alternative would be to draw on forces currently
protecting the OMP base in the Indian Ocean. I do not want to take that
action, so do your best to make do with what you have.
Best of luck,
Admiral Michaels

OOC: PN, the ship movement RP will come later. Also, if I missed anything at all, let me know. As in, messages, developments, etc.

SECURE TRANSMISSION TO MATTVIA, PACIFIC NORTHWEST, AND AZAZIA

We are now aware of the seriousness which the Socialist Fleet is dedicating to stop any foreign navy from entering Lindimese waters. We are grateful for your victory in the first battle, but the whole of the Northern First Fleet is approaching and they are very formidable opponent, and might even win in the current position.

We recommend that you stand back and replenish while they move towards you, then, if you still want to conduct a landing and/or demolish a large portion of the Socialist Navy, abandon your current target on the Booni Islands and head to the next set of Islands over, Sarda. About three hundred kilometers northest of Iova resides the coastal city of Tenb, where our current HQ is located. as the First Northern Fleet approaches, my may circumvent them and head over towards the Sarda Islands. Once there you may land troops at your will, and it will be easier for you to hold your positions between the two main islands that make up Sarda.

A map for your suggested route is http://www.freewebs.com/lindim/lin_amp_plan1.jpg

PN, you may continue your special op insertation as normal. The Linits act independently of us.

Good luck.

***************

Lujii Stei, a Derrin-Mo-class fleet carrier, flagship of the Northern Fleets

Rain Admiral Runad Sero ran his fingers over the edge of his traditional Estanni short sword, given to Rain Admirals upon promotion. The blade's edge was the paragon of dividing efficiency; his skin sliced open at the tips of his fingers and blood dripped onto the blade. Sero carefully wiped the blade clean and placed the perfect metal back on its display.

Inaen fought bravely, he thought idly, waves of dark blue undulating outside his window, and endless cascade of life, of water. And death. But I cannot hold her responsible. The Azazians fought honorably and had superior numbers. The Azazians are those I do not want have to face in battle. Nor do I want to duel with Pacific, nor Mattvia.

Sero paused and went over to his finished palm desk, the smooth and oiled wood holding only three sheets of papers. Two had GPS, radar, and sonar overlays. The last was blank. Why must we have to fight? Why will they not let us to our own civil strife? Now many more most suffer. Sero looked over to his computer monitor, where an email from Tre glowed sfotly in the dim lights of his cabin.It didn't have to be this way. There didn't have to be violence.

Lindim as he knew it was dead. Either he would die, or Tre would win. Why? The eternal question. Why? Sero looked at his sword again, the metal shining unblemished, not a trace of blood upon its steel. He went to work on battle plans.

***************

Tenb, Loyalist HQ

Nuhmi grunted at Tirrew's various mood changes as the acting Prime Minister read the letter from Azazia. First Tirrew appeared puzzled, even vexed. Then he gained a smile, only to replace it with a look of absolute horror within seconds.

Tirrew looked up, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide. Before Nuhmi could even grunt questioningly, Tirrew explained. "They are planning to use- to use nuclear weapons."

Nuhmi nearly dropped his coffee cup. His hands trembled and he found himself afraid or the first time since the Asiatic Wars. "No! They cannot! That would violate every principle of Lindim! That would-"

"I know!" shouted Tirrew, on the verge of hysteria. "Dammit, I know!" Both men spent a few moments calming themselves down before Tirrew continued speaking. "Okay, let's see how their satellites work."

Nuhmi nodded and left the room, walking down the corridor of the office building that served for their base of operations. The office building had once served as an outpost for an insurance company, but the Marine fighting had scared them off. Good riddance. Insurance, ha! He walked into his office, grabbed the bulky black phone, and jogged back to Tirrew. "Here sir, the phone."

Tirrew looked up from his computer and clicked the mouse button. "Sorry but I just-"

Nuhmi groaned.

To: Azazia

I appreciate your support, but I have one request. No nuclear weapons are to be used in Lindimese waters or airspace, under any conditions. It would be hard for me to explain to you, but essentially this mandate comes from the days where the last of the Estannis, forerunners of the Lindimese, were wiped out by a nuclear bomb. If you want I could explain in detail, but quite frankly I do not understand it myself. Suffice to say, it is a cultural mandate that may not be broken under any circumstances.

Any other support or withdrawl is understood. We are pulling back our other fleets from Avios, so expect help on the naval front in several days.

***************

Booni Waters

Winilia blinked. Faces, but not Lindimese. Strange. Voices... "Ma'am, you are okay now. You've been rescued by the Azazian..." And Winilia passed out.

***************

Coast of Booni Islands

Uyse nodded at the email and slid her PDA back into her satchel. A race, a race against the ensuing war. She could do that. She glanced at her pistol and knife and almost laughed. Hold her fire? These Pacific special ops would be disappointed to see their landing party. Or simply midly surprised.

Adjusting her skirts, she pulled out the phosphour flares and popped each one before throwing them across the beach, one hundred feet apart each. Then she sat back down again, the rising tide splashing gently across her feet, and waited.

OOC: Copy and paste the map's address.

OOC: Okay, tomorrow I will have the clock ticking as the huge Socialist fleet approaches, the Linits and PN's Spec Ops all the meanwhile begin their search for Fuego, maybe I can pull back in Carnl, RP more with Tirrew, RP more with Tre and Fuego, and even get some odd destroyer battle or so with Mattvia and PN. All in one giant post! :p

I want to reach maybe the start of the climax before the break, then resume it in January. This is a very good RP, thank you everyone for your time and patience!

OOC: Apologies for the absence!

OOC: It's fine, just say something as you two gentlemen drive up to Tenb. You should almost be at the Loyalist HQ by now.

On another note...

NEW PLAN FOR ALLIED NAVIES! http://www.freewebs.com/lindim/lin_amp_plan1-medium.jpg

OOC: Azazia, go ahead with the nuclear reactor subplot... It will provide an excuse for a later RP I might do with you, because the Lindimese people realy, really hate nuclear weapons or explosions.

So maybe, if you do your nuclear thingy, a Linit will go after the man who ordered it at a much later date, in a very, very closed RP.

Attn: Commodore Fortino

I hereby acknowledge your request concerning weapons utilizing electro-magnetic pulses. You have my word that they will not be used on your account, however, should the Royal Navy become threatened, we will have no other choice to act in accordance to the level of threat demonstrated.

Atkinson

Kilhairn Air Force Base

The electo-magnetic accelerator (EMA) was protected in a small recessed concrete area, a barrier would slide over top in case of inclement weather that would damage the sensitive equipment. For days storms had racked the area, and the EMA had been secured. But as the sun rose over this island of the Commonwealth, the natives and citizens and base personnel could actually see the sun rise.

In a barracks not far from the EMA 12 men checked the barrels of their pulse rifles. Utilizing rapid-recharging, high-charge storage capacitors powered by a battery, projectiles were accelerated down a strengthened guiding path, the traditional barrel, and then shot out at speeds fast enough to penetrate modern body armor. These men were among the toughest and most highly trained in the Commonwealth. They were the elite, though nascent Royal Star Marines.

At the horizontal end of the EMA a small hangar had been constructed, its door opened and outslid a dropship. Rather simple in its design it had a heat shield on all its bottom and leading edge structures. The holding bay had enough space for 12 men and their equipment. With the current technology, the men were limited to lightweight arms, they all chose AR-28 MkII pulse rifles. Behind the holding bay was a detachable rocket.

Second Lieutenant Gary Barton was in charge of this squad. Ordinarily squads in the Royal Star Marines were commanded by a sergeant. Sergeant Tyler Colair was in fact in charge of the unit, but being there would be no usual structure, Barton was the officer in charge of the unit. He would be going with them, especially since he would be the liason officer went Lindimese forces.

Sgt. Colair was in no hurry, at age 27 he was on his first space jump into enemy territory. But that was the standard, this was the first space jump into enemy territory. He suited up in his pressurized outfit, snapped on his helmet and nodded to the LT. All was ready to go.

Mechanics attached the rocket and signaled the control tower that all was ready. Shortly thereafter the high-powered accelerator shot the vehicle to near Mach 1. And at that speed the rocket engaged and the dropship was lifted into Earth orbit.

From the dropship the crew could see the massive Excelsior space station in construction. Nearly a kilometer long, she would be the start of the Commowealth's expansion into space. In the future they would be based on Excelsior and would depart from dropships assigned to the station. But for now, they were landbased. The pilots navigted the dropship until it reached its appointed drop location. At which point the wings adjusted to a 90 degree vertical and the ship began to descend through the atmosphere over Lindim.

With satellites knocked out, Lindim wouldn't be able to detect the dropship until it entered radar range. But as the ship neared an altitude of 30,000 meters the wings began to slowly rotate to slow the ascent. At 30,000 feet the sealed holding bay was depressurized until the door could be opened without blowing the men into the atmosphere. When the doors opened Barton signalled his men out, and they jumped into the atmosphere.

To small to detected by military radar, the men descended rapidly accelerating at 9.8 meters per second per second. At the absolute last second parachutes opened over the island of Booni. Barton knew he had a problem, he was taking a chance landing in enemy territory without alerting loyal Lindim special ops or whatever the hell existed here. But it had to be done.

The men in their black suits landed quietly, cutting their chutes off rapidly. Barton signalled Privates Jones and Zhukov to take point, the beach would be... few hundred meters... to their right. Colvair advanced along the tree line, staying in the shadows, observing the lone... woman on the beach. The phosphour flares to either side. He got down on one knee, trained his sight on the woman, flicking his wrist to Zhukov, he moved forward onto the beach racing over to the woman.

"He stood outside of arm's reach and pointed his rifle down at the woman, "Capitalist or Socialist, ma'am?"

ooc: i like the nuclear reactor subplot because for once it's trying to take the loss of a nuclear powered vessel seriously... they're very dangerous liabilities in war, and this is why... as for the EMP weapon thing, for now it's nixed

Commodore Fortino received an urgent communique:

You're in the wrong place. Special ops insertion here will lead to destruction.
Please proceed to Sarda Islands, and land on the eastern face of the western
island.

He immediately recalled the ACLCs that had been launched, and ordered his fleet to move east. "If I'm right, and the enemy fleet is coming from the south, we can give them the run-around. Azazia has given us enough time to get a good lead on them, and, if necessary, we'll throw up some pickets to slow them down. Then, we'll head south, and meet up with the loyalist forces and drop off our troops."
"Aye, Commodore. And what if they take the other way around?"
"Then, Commander, we fight"
"Aye, Commodore."
The small task force began to move off to the east, meeting up with the rest of the Third Expeditionary Fleet. The combined fleet was massive, with the destroyers on one side out of range of the destroyers on the other. In fact, it was so large, messages from one side to the other had to be relayed, either through other ships or through satellites. The sheer size of the armada emboldened Commodore Fortino, but then his confidence waned again, thinking about how big the opposing fleet must be. Better to outrun them. Better to go around, find a good defensive location.
Later, as the fleet began to move southwards, Fortino thought to himself, "here is the moment of truth. Here's what it all comes down to. Where are they?" Five minutes later, he had his answer. DD-1 Bs had a massive fleet, far to the west, moving north to intercept their former position. Bingo. But it wouldn't take long for them to catch on.

"Dammit! When are we going to get moving? I need to know who's doing what, and where, NOW! The Admiral's voice rang through the Command Room's steel walls as he gazed angrily at the great wall-map before him. He had a liking for the old paper ones; they were less likely to break. Red pins denoted the enemy forces' last know positions. So far, they all seemed to be over near Avios. Of course, he would have like to know what was going on there, but since he had no recent intel, he was rather fucked. He knew there was a fleet near Lindim still, but its loyalty was unknown to him. That was worrying.

Another thing that was worrying was the profusion of other fleets in the area. If that was a loyal fleet it had its work cut out. if not, it would leave Lindim defenceless by sea. Of course, the fact that this was blatantly bloody obcious had not dawned on his masters yet, it seemed. Ta very much, gents!

"Sir, I can't give you anything beyond what we already know: that there's been some kind of coup, that everything's disjointed..."

"..and that we can't risk going into an unstable situation; I KNOW!" He sighed and sat down. "I'm sorry, friend. I know it's nobody's fault., not here anyway, but I can't just sit back and watch and wait for the outcome." The Admiral sighed and fingered his name-tag, which read "Harwood."

"I agree, sir," replied Thunder's Captain grimly."We could be in position to affact the outcome very soon indeed, if it weren't for the delays they force on us. But we can't risk going on our own. It'd be barratry, for a start."

"Yes, yes it would...unless...unless they don't see us do it." Harwood cackled quietly. "Captain: if I detached, say, eight submarines, would anyone notice?"

"Not if it were done with skill, sir. No."

"Really? Very curious. And suppose those submarines happened to be able to give us first-hand reports of what was going on? Would that be illegal?"

"No, Admiral," replied the captain, a smile rising on his face.

"Very useful."

"And if, sir, you were to act on the most recent data and use initiative...well, those are both commendable enough."

"Indeed. Tell nobody of this conversation, captain."

"What conversation?" The captain grinned as he closed the door.

*****************************************************

The eight subs did detach. Slowly creeping along the bottom until the island fell away onto an abyssal plain, they slid out to the north. Eight attack submarines fanned out in a line 200 miles wide, and darted out towards the open ocean, cruising at an easy 16 knots, making for Lindim.

OOC:
1. What 8 subs? :-P
2. Ok, now I'm officially confused. Where am I supposed to drop my special ops?

OOC: Hey, I never specified numbers :P rest assured I won't numberwank, people.

Incidentally, I'm approaching from your south-east, Lindim, so I'm ideally placed to give the rebels a kick up the arse. This is owing to the fact I'm based in French Polynesia.

OOC: Hey, I never specified numbers :P rest assured I won't numberwank, people.

Incidentally, I'm approaching from your south-east, Lindim, so I'm ideally placed to give the rebels a kick up the arse. This is owing to the fact I'm based in French Polynesia.
Unfortunately, at 16 kts. You won't catch up to their fleet...

Who's to say what speed they'll be doing in future? And who's to say that I want to catch up with their fleet anyway?

HIMS World deck.

Sailor Jim walked up to sailor Sam Grizzy. "Sam, where's Barney?"
Sam's face when a horrible shade of white, and sadness in his eyes.
"Haven't you heard?"
"No" Jim replied happily.
"He was killed when the harpoon hit the deck, he didn't make it, I'm so sorry." Sam walked away.

Later.....

The crew were gathered around the edge of the deck. A trumpeter trumpeted the death march and other tunes. The ships vicar spoke read from the bible, and said a prayer. "Amen" ran around the crew.
Tears ran down some of the crews faces.
The first mans coffin was put on the side of the deck.
"Sailor of his Imperial Majesty's navy of Mattvia, Howard Tool, aged 23, died of shrapnel wounds to his head. May he rest in peace at the bottom." The vicar said solemnly.
The commodore steeped forward "Salute!!", all the mens armed when to there heads in the salute, the trumpeter started to trumpet, two sailors who stood next to the coffin, with the flag of Mattvia on it, slid it and it went into the ocean.
The trumpet man stopped, the salute ended and and it was silent.
Two men brought forward the second coffin it was placed on the side of the deck. More prayers were said with "amen" rippled around the crew.
"Sailor of his imperial Majesty's navy of Mattvia, Barney Dimable, aged 25, died when hit by enemy harpoon. May he rest in peace at the bottom." The vicar said solemnly.
The commodore stepped forward again and shouted "Salute!!", again all the mens arms went to there heads, in the salute, the trumpeter started to trumpet, two sailors who stood next to the coffin, with the flag of Mattvia on it, slid it and it went into the ocean.
The salute ended and the trumpeter stooped, it was silent.
21 infantry men steeped forward, and did the twenty one gun salute.
The commodore shouted "Back to work men!!", everyone went back into the ship to carry on on what they were doing.

HIMS World, the bridge:

Commodore Lancaster got out his binoculars and had a looked, that was it, Tenb.
He got his headphones.
"This is commodore Lancaster of HIMS World, do you read me Admiral of Azazia fleet?
We can see Tenb, we will dock there in the next hours. You fought bravely, well done, over."

OOC: I presume that we are now in Tenb, I will dock in the next post.

OOC: Ah, PN, I am sorry I was trying to make this as clear as possible.

Every other nation wanted to land troops but since it was getting rather hot near Booni, I said they could drop off in Tenb if they wanted. But then I added a small line that mentioned that PN could drop off their spec ops as normal, on the Booni Islands.

Ahh.. okay, we can just ignore your other post and have you drop off the Booni Islands if you want. I'm going to RP my Linit talking with the Azazians so you can have time to land your spec ops as normal.

On the Booni Islands.

Sorry about the confusion.

Booni Islands coast

Uyse looked up at the man and his long, rather advanced rifle. "Neither," she replied calmly, the knife already hidden up the sleeve of her right arm, "I am, however, for protecting the Prime Minister." She turned away from the man and his company, looking back out at the sea. "I am waiting for some other special operations. In the meanwhile, I shall brief you."

She stood up and brushed the sand off her skirt, studying the men. "We have limited time before the unfortunate approach of the rebelling Lindimese fleet. And the Prime Minister and Tre are hidden somewhere the Loyalists do not know." She paused and turned to the Marine still threatening her with a rifle. "The Linits do."

The tide was beginning to receed again, and she turned back to the ocean, waiting for the Pacific Northwestians.

HIMS World:

"All infantry to Chinooks, all infantry to Chinooks, all infantry to Chinooks" the loud speakers boomed.
The infantry marched out with there equipment all ready, they all marched into there Chinooks, 50 to each.
"All Apache pilots to there helicopter. Another row of men, Apache pilots this time came out, and went into there helicopters. There were 6 Apaches going with the infantry. 12 Apache pilots.
The commodore had spoken to the commander of the infantry, Lieutenant Colonel Wilhelm Patterson they had worked out a plan, the infantry in there Chinooks, escorted by six Apaches would land in a clear zone, and get in contact or meet the head of the loyalist forces, then they would radio the World and it would dock in Tenbs dock. If anything went wrong they were going to get out of there as fast as possible get back to the ships, were they would make a new plan.

The Chinooks took off, as well as the Apaches, it was a cheerful atmosphere inside each Chinook, that were finally doing what they had been trained to do, not wait in a ship all day long.

10 minutes later......

One of the Chinook pilots saw a clear opening. "This is Chinook 1 to all Chinooks we have a clear location, follow me." He changed the radio signal "World we have a clear spot, descending know".
A voice buzzed into his ear. "Ok, commodore has been alerted."
The Chinooks started to land. As soon as they touched the ground, about 20 men from each Chinook got out and formed defencive positions.

OOC:
Lindim if you could say that someone saw us or something so I know it's all clear.

Barton stood on the beach looking out over the waters that were - unknowingly to him - a grave to many hundreds of individuals. He watched with interest as the... what were they Lindits or Linbits or something like that... he now rued his little flaw that made him unable to remember people's name. But hey, that's what his seargent was for. "Tyler, I want you to establish a perimeter here and we hold until PN forces arrive. I don't know how big they'll be, and I don't know how big enemy reinforcements will be, so stay hidden, stay sharp. I also want an avenue of escape in case things get too hot too quickly. Understood?"

Colair simply nodded, "Sir. Ivan, Barney, Fife, Sean! Git your asses over here."

As Colair walked off to establish the perimeter Barton turned to face the Linit. "So, not to be an asshole, but how can I trust you. My men landed here, in the middle of your country's little uprising, and we're supposed to trust you? What kind of assurances do I get that you won't turn on us when we 'approach' the enemy encampment? Because that would sure as hell be what I would do if I were in your place."

"This is the commander, give me a course change to two-four-one," Captain Turner ordered briskly as he looked around his men in the spacious control room. The maze of touchscreen sensors, joysticks, and trackballs startled him as he is still awed by such advanced technological accomplishment. Men were no longer flipping switches, they are playing video games at sea, he thought, as he looked over to the plotting board. "Aye, sir, changing course to two-four-one", the Helmsman replied as he applied pressure on the sleek control "wheel", boasting a hint of metallic characteristics as light bounched off it in little amount.

Although the other submarines were far away from the underwater giant, he felt confident that the ship is more than just capable of protecting itself. Lugging more than four hundred missiles wasn't the slightest of his idea when he joined the submarine service years ago, but now he has an important mission to conduct. One that will not only affect his country, but also Lindim and their country. He thought of this as he monitored the black-coloured background of each touch screen, before the radioman woke him up from his little inspection.

"Captain, I got a new radio transmission here," the radioman reported as he printed off the secure transmission on a piece of poor-quality paper. They had various reasons to choose the two-Omzars-per-pack paper as the Captain read the transmission. He smiled as he said, "so, we got cruisers and destroyers coming! Tell them that we need surface anti-air escort, or better yet, I'll code the transmission."

===========

OOC: Force listing is one Orca SSGN and three Tucuxi SSN, plus some more cruisers and destroyers (will probably list them in OOC thread). I don't want to clutter up the page and they are export subs, but if anyone want to know their stats I'll post that in the OOC thread.

Currently, since my nation is essentially a land mass at the location of the eastern region of China and the Pacific Ocean, probably it would take 3-4 days for me to arrive.

Tenb

Colonel Aome smiled as he peered throuigh is binoculars at the defensive perimeter the Mattvians secured as they spilled out of their choppers. Good, at least they have a well-trained infantry. They'll need it. He flipped the cover back over the lenses and turned to the driver of his Humvee. "Sergeant, let's go meet the Mattvians. I heard we're planning an assault on Iova. Apparently that's where Fuego is supposed to be hidden."

The sergeant started the Humvee and went down the hill, leading a line of ten Humvees filled with Lindimese Marines, and another line of 25 APCs. "Iova, huh? No fuck. That's real tricky, pulling off something like that."

Aome nodded as he bounced along in the truck. "Tre is a pretty tricky bitch."

The armored line reached the Chinooks and Aome hopped out of his seat and saluted the highest ranking officer he could see. "Welcome to Lindim. I'm Colonel Aome, and I will be in charge of the mission to take back Iova. I believe, gentlemen, that both our forces combined will be able to easily overwhelm the rebels. Questions? If you have none, we have Armored Personnel Carriers for your men. We will be heading to the Loyalist Marine barracks in Tenb while the mission is formulated."

***************

Unknown location

Tre nodded thoughtfully as the Special Forces officer briefed her on the landing of the Mattvian infantry. She could have easily attacked and destroyed their landings, no Apache escort could face an EN-22 fighter, but... it would serve a purpose for awhile to allow them to think she was based in Iova.

Seizing Iova was useful in that the Capitalizts now thought Tre was based there. A distraction. And she planned to utilize this. "Lieutenant Colonel, estimated time for their arrival to the Loyalist HQ?"

The soldier looked up at her, but did not even blink at her interruption. Instead, he smoothly answered her as if that had always been part of his briefing. "Approxiamately one hour, ma'am. This is, of ocurse, assuming-"

"And the protection?"

"Light, only armored Humvees and several combat vehicles escorting them until they are about fifteen minutes from the base, where they enter the range of the tanks that surround their office building."

Tre performed a few mental calculations and briefly ran through the situation. She needed to stall any foreign military activity until her trump card, Sero arrived. "Lieutenant Colonel, I want two armored companies, light with mechanical infantry support, to approach and ambush the line of Mattvians and Marines."

"They will have recon-"

Tre brushed her dark hair behind her ears and glanced down the hallway, where Fuego was. "I know. You are dismissed."

The soldier saluted crisply, as if he had not just been rebuked, and walked out the door, all sharpened steel in grace and lethality. Yes, they could hold the Linits off. Tre was confident.

***************

Booni Islands coast

Uyse turned towards the man and stepped back one step, grabbing up her satchel and throwing it around her waist. "You would? You would turn on us? Then maybe I cannot trust you."

She slipped a throwing knife into her hand and bent her wrist back. "I could kill you right now. Your men would kill me within seconds, but you would die first. Then again, the man that stands behind me could kill me also, and my fellow Linits, spread out in the forest there, would kill you." She gestured behind her to a forest, barely visible but for the fading flares. "Anyone could betray anyone. So it is not healthy to remain paranoid."

Uyse reached into her satchel and pulled out a small, red sphere with a string hanging out of it. She pulled the string hard, and then threw the ball up into the air. It floated up before falling back down to the sand. "IR signal," she said, placing hte ball back into ther satchel. "The other Linits know you are here. I would remind you that there will be no briefing in the traditional sense that you are your superiors would think of. No, we are going straight to Fuego and Tre. You may discuss tactics as we march. We are," she said cooly, "racing against the Socialist fleet. If the First Northern Fleet arrives on time, it will hunt down and obliterate your fleet. Unless we find Tre first."

Bending down, Uyse grabbed a handful of sand and, holding her palm outwards, blows it away. "Strange omens," she said softly, watching the sand fall back onto the beach. "I cannot read them." Then she shrugged and laid down onto the beach, legs out stretch end hands behind the head. "Relax. What we are doing now not even Tre knows about. It will not last long."

I wonder if one of them will try to attack me. I wonder if right now Beddre is eating popcorn and wathcing a movie. She probably is. I miss her.

***************

L.S.S. Dolphin, an experimental Endgame-class nuclear-powered attack submarine

Low Leaf Admiral Aroha leaned back in her seat and stifled a sigh. Quiet mode, they were in quiet mode. The Dolphin rested against the continental shelf, off the coast of the Booni Islands. Its engine was a state-of-the-art caterpillar drive, quiet almost to a point of absolute silence, it's hull design to minimize any detection, the torpedos themselves silent, and yet the Dolphin was in quiet mode.

We just have to find out what that bloody sub is doing with the nuclear reactor on that ship. The crew had voted, from the start, to remain neutral in the conflict. But they had also voted to monitor and possibly stop any foreign interference that endangered the Lindimese people. And nuclear reactors were very, very dangerous things.

And so the Dolphin watched.

OOC: Omz, I'd guess about 2-3 days, if you went at a decent rate before slowing down near Lindim. Lindim's underwater sonar arrays would detect you, but right now neither side has access to the arrays.

OOC: sorry for the delay. I had a post typed up, and then my comp froze and I had to do something else for a while. Please consider this happening before anything gets started... sort of a retro-active post, if you will.
IC:
Commodore was smiling silently to himself. He had always enjoyed intrigue and trickery. At this moment, the entire crew thought that the ACLCs had been retrieved and that the special ops were biding their time until they arrived at the real launch point. Except for him. He knew that it was all a ruse... he had planned it. The special ops had landed as planned, and would be approaching the phosphor flares that had been sighted, as well as an IR beacon. But the Fleet had other matters to attend to.
The Third Expeditionary Fleet, in all its glory, was cruising towards the channel between the two Sarda islands of Lindim. This would serve many purposes, not the least of which being buying time before being confronted by the massive Northern Fleet. Here, between the islands, the 3rd could form up into defensive positions, without fear of being flanked and with only a short perimeter to watch. When you know that the enemy can only attack from one side, you can place the bulk of your anti-missile and anti-air defenses on that side, effectively multiplying the number of escorts you have. The Socialists, on the other hand, would have no way of knowing that a detatchment of subs wasn't waiting, lurking, near the entrance to the channel. They would have to keep escorts everywhere around their fleet, making their skin thinner.
But no. It must not come to that. The entire point of this mission was to insert special ops, to decapitate the rebellion and save the democratically elected PM. Godspeed, boys. It was ironic, really. A hundred special ops, determining the fate of thousands upon thousands of sailors and pilots.

Pacific Northwesterian Landing Force

Major Thompson sat quietly in his ACLC, watching the sandy beach, aglow in the fading, shimmering light of the phosphor flares. No guns were being cleaned or loaded around him. There were no clicks or flashes of reflectant metal. His men were good. Damn good. They were the elite of the elite of the elite, the leading special ops teams from Pacific Northwesteria. And that was saying something, because since it wasn't PN's style to be an occupying force, the special ops was the only offensive land unit in existence. All the rest of the infantry was a sort of citizen army, an enormous national guard. They had a few tanks, a few humvees, but the real power of the special ops lay in its riflemen. Among the best trained in the world, and the best armed, these guys could hold a defensive line against almost any charging foe, provided that they had a defensible position.
Thompson did not know who would be waiting for them on the beach, nor did he know where he would be led once he got there. All he knew was that this mission was important enough and big enough to warrant the insertion of 100 special ops, an unprecedented number in the history of Pacific Northwesteria. Whatever it was, they would be up to the challenge. "If you've got 'em, smoke 'em", he said quietly to his men, "but then again, you don't got 'em. We confiscated them, because the light would give us away". This was met with a soft, grim chuckle from his men.
Finally, it was time. With a soft swish, the air-cushioned landing craft made their way onto the beach, and the men stepped out, weapons at the ready. They approached quickly, checking for enemy activity. "Welcome", said a Linit, emerging as if from thin air directly behind Thompson, "to Lindim".

On the Beach

"Shute!"

"You spelled that wrong private, it's s-h-o-o-t." Sgt. Colair added without turning his head. He had overheard the argument between the new LT and that woman, Probably loyal spec ops, Colair mused, definately spec ops. But the last thing he really needed in a foreign land was this hot-headed know-it-all officer screwing things up. "Lieutenant, I would say its about time to go inform the troops what our plan is going to be, especially if we aren't receiving a quote, regular briefing."

Barton stared at the young sergeant. He knew what Colair was up to, trying to usurp his authority. It was his mission, he was the officer. Damn him. "Alright sergeant. Good idea."

As Barton passed him by Colair inwardly sighed and took a breath of fresh air. "Ma'am, I apologize for my LT. He's a new promotion, new to the unit, and well... is not quite so versed in the art of diplomacy. I assure you that we are not going to betray you. But I was wondering if we could discuss the layout of this secret location. I'd like to able to brief my men - on the move of course - on what they are expecting and the terrain lay out."

"My suggestion would be to have one unit - us or the PNs - to secure the perimeter, the other group would go into the compound with you and secure what I would presume is some headquarters. Then you continue on to resuce the PM. Looks great for you and your people, and it looks like PN and us, well we were just along for the ride. If you catch my drift, ma'am. Although, ma'am, I think you do dis-service to the Royal Navy, from what I understand they were outnumbered and outgunned, and managed to sink a socialist fleet. Now, I'm not talking dirt on your navy, I'm just saying... those plankheads... well... they can be pretty tough themselves. Don't count 'em out just yet."

HMS Swift

Benjamin Rush waited rested his eyes in his cabin. As commander of the Commonwealth submarine he was merely positioned here to watch the upcoming battle between PN and the socialists. He had, of course, his---

"Captain Rush?"

"Yes, who is it?"

"Ensign Davies, sir. Received new orders."

Rush stretched, then rose from his bed. Constant alert was beginning to wear on not only him, but his crew... soon enough it would begin to impact ship efficiency... and that was always bad in a warzone. He opened his door and received the papers handed him by the ensign, and dismissed him with merely his hand. Breezing through the papers...

Damn, these orders were four hours old. Bloody hell. Rush steamed into the control center, "Navigator, set new course [map coordinate for furthest point on east-bound track]. Speed, 20 knots. Maximum silent speed, rig for silent running."

The young XO moved next to his captain, "What's the matter, sir?"

"These orders, they've changed the battle site. The fleets are moving to Tenb, the south side of this archipelago. Normally... but wait a minute. Navigator, belay those orders!" Rush thought for a moment, the closing line stated obscurely that spec ops troops had landed or would land close to the shore here. But if the Lindimese fleet didn't take the bait and move south to engage the forces gathering... then if the spec ops troops were found, they'd have a hell of a time staying safe... he was going to stay here and provide a distraction for the spec ops troops... but then... how would they be getting out?

HMS Swordfish

Captain Pierce had been busy. His orders had forced him to stay back and watch the battle unfold. He was certainly glad the Commonwealth had prevailed but now he would have only a window of a few hours in which to off load his troops. Which was why now, having secured from silent running the submarine was about to broach the surface, and deliver its own spec ops troops.

(ooc: sudden company, must go, will refine post later, but troops land, link up with the Linit and other Azazian trooops... sorry for less than usual post)

OOC: Lindim, wanna RP the "introduction" of sorts between your Linits and my spec. ops? They're tough and gruff, but are held by regulation to a rough sort of courtesy when speaking to people outside their unit.

The capital

Kurichev felt himself bounce from side to side as the car shook. He fumbled his cap back onto his head and nearly yanked out the revolver, remembering that there was nothing to shoot at as he did so. He sheepishly pushed it back into place.

"The rebels. What do they have in terms of armaments?" he asked Carnl.

Booni Islands coast

Uyse smiled at the sergeant and and shook her head. "I make a point," she said, smiling slyly, "not to underestimate anyone. Help keeps me alive." She suddenly glanced up and look out at the sea, as if straining to hear something, before turning back to the sergeant. "Yes, I have been thinking about the plan. I'll tell your troops later, but I think I'll run it by you first."

She crouched down and began drawing in the sand with a stick, the lines barely visible by the last of the dying flares. "We know the target is a three story structure, similar to an office building, but it looks like a one story building because the first and second stories are built into the ground, like this," she explained, scratching a rough representation of the target into the wet sand. "The building is a former shopping mall, since burned out by the Aviosian missile strike. The Sea only knows how Tre managed to re-construct it into a base so quickly. Maybe she always had it there. Anyways, from the first story, underground, we have noticed there appears to be a long hollow passge running approximately a half of a mile east of the building. We don't know where it leads, except our goal lies probably at the end of it."

Uyse wiped away the picture, and redrew the building from a different perspective, top-down. The waves beat against the beach heavier; the tide was beginning to rise again. "I have developed a three-tiered approach to this mission," she said, drawing more lines to indicate positions and movements. "We expect Socialist Marines to show up very quickly if the building comes under attack. So we have two goals. One, we have to get in and out of there as fast as possible. Two, we have to establish a defensible position in the case we do not get out in time.

"Your troops, more trained in traditional military tactics, will have to occupy the opposing forces which are set up around the building, most likely armed heavily. The PN spec ops will have to clear out the main sections of the target's interior, namely, the three stories. And then the Linits will head down the passageway to Tre." She looked up and met the sergeant's eyes forcefully. "This gradual shedding away of the force seems to be the most optimal strategy, though you may disagree. However, you must accept that only the Linits will go after Tre."

There was a pause, before the audible approach of the Pacific Northwesterian special forces. The Uyse stood and turned around, before courching and fading away into the dark.

The ACLCs, a row of them carrying what seemed to Uyse to be almost a hundred special forces, seemed to materialize on the beach. Immediately, the black uniformed soldiers exited their crafts and pulled them onto the shore, many of them men immediately focusing on the Azazians with their rifles. Uyse admired their professionalism. This mission would be easier than she thought. Don't think that! Overconfidence is the river of a fool.

Once Uyse spotted the highest-ranking officer, a major, if she was correct in reading his Pacific insignia, she walked over to him and slid her throwing knives back up her sleaves. "Welcome," she said, "to Lindim."

The major turned around, calmly and showing no surprise, before studying her intently. He seemed to come to a decision quickly, because he nodded to her respectfully and relaxed his rifle. But he did not take his hands off it. "You're the Linit?" he asked gruffly, with just enough courtesy as appropriate to a foreign allied soldier.

Not, of course, that Linits are soldiers, or even special forces. But they don't know that. I don't think even Fuego knows that. Uyse nodded and gestured to the Azazians, who seemed to fianlly notice the Pacifics and had their own rifles tightly gripped. "I am Usye, and these are Azazian forces who iwll be working with us on this operation. You can never," she said, smiling inwardly, "have too many soldiers working against Tre."

If the major was puzzled by her last comment, he didn't show it but merely nodded. "I'm Major Thompson. I have with me one hundred Special Forces for this operation." He glanced up at the crest of the beach, where twenty-four other Linits appeared, all dressed in the same dark blue silk skirts and shirts as Uyse. All were armed with only a pistol and a knife in their belt, along with several hidden knives up and down their sleaves and beneath their skirts. "I assume we are moving soon? And," he continued, "no vehicular transportation?" He gestured to his men, who all assembled behind him, their movements smooth and assured. "That's all right, I didn't expect anything else."

Uyse bowed to the man in the traditional Lindimese fashion, but evoked no response from the blank face. Very professional. And the Azazians, save their officer. I can do this. "Very well then, Major, I'll explain to you now what the plan is, because we will have to move by foot around one hundred kilometers south." She crouched down and drew out her knife, beginning to draw the same pictures she had before in the sand. Behind her, she could hear the soft padding of the other Linits coming down to meet the foreigners. The Pacifics barely showed any surprise at the appearance of the women, but the Azazians seemd to make it a topic of discussion among themselves.

Thompson bent down beside Uyse and lowered his voice, the gruff edge still present. "That Tre knows everything, huh?"

Uyse looked and shaprly and smiled, nodding. "That's why we move by foot. Otherwise she'll have us carpet-bombed within moments. However, the destruction of the satellites and the fact that her Air Force is preoccupied at the moment does allow us more flexibility in our movements. Now, from what we can ascertain..." ((OOC: Insert roughly the same battle plan as above.)) "If you have any changes to make, you may do so, but only after we begin moving." She wipped away at the sand and looked at the Major.

Thompson stood up and gave her a curt nod before turning back to his own men and gathering them around him. The men only nodded or voiced quiet questions, and they quickly seemed to reach a decision. Meanwhile, Dasr, a young Linit whose blonde hair was cut short in the latest fashion, stepped up beside Uyse and mumbled softly, "Oni le Tre?"

Uysse smiled at her and turned back to the Azazians and Pacifics. "Let's move."

The Azazians immediately began following the Linits, who had started off across the field between the forests. The special forces major turned back to his men and apparenlty said a joke, as they chuckled softly before checking their weapons and heading after the Linits.

Uyse waited until they had all passed her before she went back to the shore and picked up the burnt out flares. She went to each of the ACLC's the Pacifcs had left behind and drew forth a collection of explosives and charges. She planted one on each of the ACLCs and pushed them all back out to sea, drifting away the currents. She pressed a remote detonator in her satchel, and each landing craft burst into flames in fiery succession before falling beneath the waves. Soon, the ocean was quiet again.

Pocketing the detonator, Uyse sighed and looked up at the stars and the full moon. The sky was beautiful. Then, moving silently, Uyse went followed the others.

OOC: I think Carnl and the admiral make quite the team. Perhaps Kurichev is Carnl's future.

Outskirts of Iova

Carnl winced and spun the wheel, the car swerving and the tires screeching asit narrowly avoided a hulk of burning debris. Once past the tanks, Carnl slammed on the gas and didn't let off the gas until he swore he was reaching over 3 Gs. He let off, a bit, and turned towards Kurichev, smiling sheepishly. "Err, sorry about that."

Seeing another group of tanks down the street, Carnl took a sharp turn onto another street and was stuck right in the middle of a traffic jam. "Shit!" he cried, slamming his hand down on the horn until he realized it had stopped producing sound long ago. "I mean, uh," he said, turning sheepishly towards his passenger again, "the rebels? Oh, yes! Well, let me put it this way." He graqbbed a pakcet of Coffeemate and spilled it onto the dashboard. "Wait, why'd I do that.. oh well. Okay," he said gesturing to the mound of white and brown particles. "Imagine that as the Lindimese military, the modern and higly-trained professional force of a 1.4 billion-person nation, equipped with some of the world's most advanced technology."

He grabbed the empty packet and, using it, divided the pile of Coffeemate in half. "This," Carnl said, pointing at one half, "is about where the rebels are. They've divided are military in half. With all modesty, I'd say that's still pretty good. I mean, these aren't your usual hide-in-the-hills rebels, this is the Intelligence Minister we're talking about. And she's-" The car in front of them suddenly backed up and smashed into the front of Carnl's, sending Coffeemate over his shirt. "Damn it!" Then Carnl looked up at the smoking engine. "Oh..."

***************

L.V.S. Lujii Stei

Admiral Sero drummed his fingers along his desk, the ensign behind him still captured by the awe of Lindim's own military celebrity. They think the key to winning war is to take another man's life. The true path to victory is to save a man's life, Sero thought, not without a trace of bitterness. It seemed the foreign navies wanted him to enter battle with them. They moved up and around the island he circled, avoiding him and yet baiting him.

"Ensign Lawik," Sero said slowly, letting his toughts come to him one at a time while resisting the relaxing waves of sleep that threatened to break his self-discipline. What is now, three days of no sleep? War is truely an engagment of those who would lose their souls. "Ensign Lawik, would you please inform the XO that four, light fast attack subs are to be situated and left back at the opposing entrance to the Nages Strait? Remind the XO the waters there are very shallow and dangerous, and thus the submarines should not attempt to enter the strait."

The ensign smiled eagerly and saluted, probably thinking of some grand strategic game the Admiral was playing. I only wanted to save lives, I never wanted to fight. "The diesel-electric hybrids, sir?"

Sero nodded absently, running through the maps and sonar readings in his head. "Yes, yes, those ones. And," he added, "ask the Wave Admiral to set the ASW and AAS patrols to the highest defence readiness."

The enisgn nodded but did not move.

"You are," Sero said wearily, "dismissed." Lawik nodded and left the room quickly, shutting the door behind him.

Sero was left alone in his cabin to his thoughts, to his worries. But he could no allow himself sleep. No, he could not.

OOC: I'm trying to portray Sero as a reluctant hero/genius, who despises war and yet wages it with equal skill.

"That," Kurichev commented in a measured tone, "does not fill me with confidence. The last thing we need is to have to fight a military that can actually fight." He gave a short, barked laugh, broken off like a poorly-made knife when the car rammed into theirs. His muscles tensed and he snatched up the revolver. He grinned and turned to Carnl.

"If there's one thing I cannot abide," he said as he exited the car, "it's a bad driver!" With that, he pointed the .38's long barrel towards the car's rear offside tyre and squeezed the trigger. "Wanker."

Jungle

Barton grumbled inwardly, he didn’t want to be led by some woman. His father had been a general, and his father before him, and his father before him… sort… he was more of an admiral… but the point was the same. They had taken orders, but never from a woman. Not in the service, not in their careers. And damned if he was going to start now. As the group ran together, he moved over to Colair, “Sergeant, what the hell is going on here?”

“Well, sir,” Colair said between breaths, “I was simply gathering intelligence from our ally that you seemed rather negligent in obtaining yourself.” Colair threw him a glance with that last part.

“Sergeant, I hope that’s not insubordination.”

“No, sir. It is not. It is merely the advice and observations of your second in command.”

You bastard, he thought, you sneaking little bastard. You’re in league with the enemy. Hell, you’re probably ready to sleep with the damn enemy. You bastard. I’ll show you. “Sergeant, when we get there, you are to take Position Beta.”

“Sir, Beta is more suited to Zhukov’s capabilities. He is the heavy weapons expert, and is more than likely capable of learning how to operate those Lindim guns faster than anyone else here.”

“No, I want Zhukov with me. Are we understood?”

“But sir, I thi---“

“Are we understood, sergeant?”

“Yes, sir. Second Lieutenant.”

Barton scowled and proceeded to move off in order to tell Private Ivan Zhukov of the changes to the plan.

Coast of Booni Island

Lieutenant Andrew Franklin stared out over the water and into the bright evening sky. He whistled and pulled his hands close to his chest before shooting them out in the direction of the forest. His men began to pull the crates offloaded from the Swordfish into the covered and secluded areas of the landing zone. He now realized from the footprints in the sand that he had missed the insertion team. Damn naval battle.

But he would at the least be able to follow them. After realizing their disappearance he had his sergeant go back for satellite data imager, where they would be tracking heat trails through the forest. Difficult due to the latent heat of the jungle… but not impossible… however, there was one cluster of hidden buildings that were radiating heat… and he assumed that was where they were going.

On a second whistle, his five man squad grabbed their weapons and marched off into the jungle at double-speed.

Jungle

Sgt. Colair knew that his unit was in trouble. Barton had been unraveling more and more since their insertion. And he didn’t know why. But changing the plans at this juncture… was simply foolishness. It isn’t as if Zhukov had brought his weapons with them. He would need his knowledge and skill to learn how to operate Lindim weapons and quickly. Colair knew that he himself was far more valuable on the rooftop with Barton helping control the situation. What the hell was this man doing? But he didn’t want to say anything just yet… maybe Barton did have some sort of crazy plan that he couldn’t see himself. It was possible…

But unlikely.

Uyse looked back at the beach behind her and produced a pair of night-vision goggles from her satchel. She thought she had heard something, and the last thing this force needed was one of Tre's Special Forces after them. She fell down to the leafy forest floor and flipped the NVGs over her head, the rubber contour fitting snuggly over her binoculars.

Through the dense forest she saw the vague shapes of five... no, they couldn't be Lindimese. Another allied special forces? How many did they need? At least it was a small group this time. Uyse took of her binoculars and NVGs and put them back into her bag, before rummaging around and pulling out the IR beacon. She yanked the length of the string again, and threw the ball up in the air. It flew up, but the string became tangled in the branch.

Uyse sighed and scolded herself for such bad aim as she drew out a throwing knife. She aimed carefully, then flicked the blade upward. It cut off the branch and the ball came flying back down. She caught the knife and slid it down her boots again, and placed the red ball back into her satchel. Whatever allied force was out there should have seen that, if they were smart enough to scan for IR.

Up ahead, a young Linit named Dasr looked at the Azazian soldiers with confusion. The higher ranking officer seemed to be very angry, while the- sergeant?- appeared to simply be frustrated and annoyed.

Waiting for the lieutenant to leave, Dasr weaved through the other Linits and approached the sergeant. "Excuse me, sir," she asked in halting English, "but is your officer impatient for the weapons depot? It is so close to the target, and so far from us, so we would not have to carry it all this way."

***************

Iova

Carnl laughed. "In Lindimese, the term is oundin, literally 'fish-monger.'" He stepped out of his wrecked car, his Glock in its rarely-used holster. "Okay, I think we'll have to commandeer a vehicle. I think I have the authority to do that." A distant roar above him signaled the passing of a bomber squadron. "On second thought, who the hell would notice? This is just total fuckin' chaos."

He spun around and pointed to a shiny-looking sedan across the street. "I think we should get that-" a pop sounded from somewhere behind him, and suddnely the car he was pointing to was covered by the explosion of a grenade. When the dust finally settled, the car was punctured with holes.

Carnl groaned and slumped against the side of the car. "Any suggestions, Kurichev? We've got to get to Tenb, and I don't think walking is gonna do it."

Kurichev picked himself up slowly from where he had fallen, feeling slightly dizzy, heart pounding, his breath emerging in short gasps. Lowering himself against a nearby wall, he waited for the insistent drumming within his body to stop, and for his head to clear, while his brain went around the question Carnl had posed several times. He coughed a few times, gazing thoughtfully at the opposite wall, and then at the wrecked car.

"Hate to say it, lieutenant, but I don't have any better idea than "get out of here, without delay, by any means possible." He looked around, There were many wrecked cars; few seemed to be workable. Flicking open the Webley's drum, he shoved in another .38 round from his pouch and slowly rose to his feet. "I'd suggest, however, that a heavy vehicle might be a better idea; I dunno, a...a bus, maybe, or a lorry. Got to be one around here somewhere, right?"

OOC: This is a really fun subplot!

IC: Carnl nodded and checked his own gun, glad for its autoloader. He had a feeling he would use it today. He pushed himself back up, and pointed down the street to a green-striped shuttle bus that sat, abandoned, outside a hotel. "Green Route Main Vans, they're good. I've used them, and they startup with a button. No key required." Ducking down, he started off down the street, gesturing for the admiral to follow.

When Carnl reached the van, with no disturbances on the way, he quickly threw open the doors and jumped over the forsaken luggage of some tourist into the driver's seat. He paused, and then shifted over to the passenger seat. "On seconds though, you drive. Just button that blue button to start the car."

OOC: It is rather :D

IC: "You do realise I'm possibly the worst driver on this planet, right?" asked Kurichev, smiling wryly at the memory of passing his test on his fourth go, having failed each time before due to 'aggression.'

"Furthermore I've never used one of these in my life. Automatic gearbox, I trust?" he asked as the engine rumbled up to idle revs. "Incidentally, you'll have to navigate. Failing that, we could just blunder about aimlessly and scavenge things, which is also appealing."
He wondered for a second about the miscellaneous things he'd really have liked to know about this vehicle, but decided to forget about that. Then, with a surprising agility, he suddenly jumped fom the bus and out onto the street. When he came back, he was clutching a small case in his hand. He showed it eagerly to Carnl.

"My Wagner CD! I lost it when I came here! That'll teach the thieving bugger who took it, eh?" he bubbled. With a hideous grinding of gears, the bus lurched out onto the main street and began ambling up it, the strains of Tannhauser blaring from its speakers.

Carnl opened his mouth to speak, but then quickly closed it and pointed to a green sign down the road. "You, by any chance, don't read Lindimese, do you? If you can't, just follow those symbols on that sign until we hit Tenb." He twisted around in his seat and looked at the advancing tanks behind them. "I suggest that either way, we just move. Scavenging works, as long as we just stay away from those tanks."

Carnl winced at the music washing over his ears. "Err... I've never gotten foreign music. I know that's bad for an Naval attache, but I really have never gotten it."

OOC: Was that pre- or post-edit? Sorry :( I just had to add in the Wagner bit (I love his music).

Edit: Lol, looks like I spoke to soon *zips mouth closed* ;)

Ah well, I've got to be off to bed (since it's 5:25Am GMT this is fairly imperative), so I'll leave our two hapless heroes wending their way to their destination with bombastic Germanness seeping from every pore :D

OOC: Cheers to our impulsive, improper, informal, and utterly charming heroes!

Colair looked at the woman standing before him, "You're English is better than I expected, ma'am. Thank you, but no. The lieutenant is merely..." Colair paused desparately trying to find some word vague enough to cover the growing discord in the unit, "the lieutenant is merely... eager to begin the mission. He simply wants to neutralize the rebel heavy weapon emplacements before the rest of the group arrives. So if you know any shortcuts, I think he might appreciate it."

Several meters away, towards the rear, Barton continued to rant inside his head. He noticed a small click and turned, pulled out a metal strip from his pocket and clicked twice.

"Lieutenant Franklin, Royal Navy SIARs. You are?"

Barton fumed, a bloody lieutenant, a full lieutenant. He would never gain recognition for this mission now. He resigned himself to his answer, "Second lieutenant Barton, Royal Space Marines."

"Wait, the insertion team?"

"Yes, that's us."

"Weren't you supposed to be here already, what the hell are you doing still en route to the target. It was supposed to be secured already."

"There were complications dealing with our launch. We arrived not long ago."

"Bloody hell, so we don't have any solid intelligence about what the hell is going on in this compound? What about the locals, have you gained anything solid from them?"

Excellent timing... "No, we don't have any solid intel from these... women that are in charge here. In fact, I don't actually trust them. Their loyalty is... at best ambiguous. They even threatened to betray us. We need to be careful."

Frankling merely nodded, he didn't know this Barton, no reason not to trust him. But damnit, his team sure as hell had fucked things up for the SIARs. It certainly seemed to him that this mission was all fucked up...

But hell, he was SIAR... cream of the crop. Royal Space Marines... well... they were... babies.

It was all a mess...

OOC: I'm shortening the walk. :p Also, I love Uyse's magic satchel bag. And yes, I know this is a rushed post.

IC: From the shadows of the forest, Uyse rapidly made some mental notes. Azazian naval special forces. Interesting. And from what she could garner, the Space Marine man did not like her nor did he trust her. THat would be an awkward problem, especially giving how close the force was to the abandoned mall.

Sliding out from behind a large fern bush, Uyse approached the Azazian First Lieutenant and bowed. "You're here, and just on time." She slid a compass out from beneath her sleave and paused for a moment before dropping it into her satchel. "We have about five kilometers before we near a residential complex, which has been since abandoned. The first brick house we will be able to see is where the weapons cache is. From there, it's about one kilometer to the shopping mall. Our target. I hope the Second Lieutenant has briefed you in on the mission plan." She nodded politely to the special forces man and pulled out her knife, checking its edge. Good. Still sharp. "Questions?" she asked, looking back up.

Franklin looked at the Linit, studying her face. Not yet sure if she was friend or foe. "Several questions. One, why have you refused Lieutenant Barton's force from leading the assault, just because we are small in number and members of the male sex doesn't mean we are inferior to you as you've apparently made blatantly clear."

"Two. What guaruntees do we have that you won't hand the entire force over. Barton has informed me you have even threatened to hand them over or even kill them. That, madam, is flatly unacceptable to my command. I demand answers."

Meanwhile, Barton merely turned and walked away, smiling at his handiwork.

Uyse had to control herself. This Barton man was... a danger to their mission. But she had address this other man first. She started out by raising her eyebrows but making her tone respectful. "I admit, I am confused. Your Azazian Marines will lead the assault, and take down the enemy perimeter surrounding the building," she said carefully, looking up at Franklin. "Then, they will establish their own defensive perimeter to prevent any possible retaliatory attacks by Socialist Marines. That seems as equal a job as any other. The twenty-five Linits present could hardly do it by themselves." She paused smoothed her skirts, never taking her eyes off the soldier.

"As for my trustworthiness, I will let you make a judgement after I state three things. One," she said, holding up a finger, "your superiors trust me. Granted, that is not enough to trust someone on, but... Two, I trust you and your men." She lowered her hand slowly. "I trust you, and I assume, though my life may be forfeit, that you will not betray me."

Uyse turned and looked at the other Linits, moving farther up in the forest. "Three," she murmured softly, half to herself, "I am a Linit." Turning back to him, she continued in a stronger voice, "And though you, nor any foreigner, will know what a Linit is, we are not soldiers. We are not special ops. We are Linits. We are Lindim. You may now decide for yourself." And with that she stepped back a step and let a throwing knife drop into her hand, hidden behind her back. The first sign of aggression, and she would have to defend herself.

Unfortunate, but she hoped the man was wise enough to realize the truth for himself. What was that about women and men? If they only knew what a Linit was! This was crazy!

Thompson and his men walked through the jungle, following the Linits, listening to their intelligence briefing.
"Yes ma'am. We will neutralize and then hold the complex for as long as possible, ma'am. Also, one more thing... I meant to tell you earlier...*" he added, "You may have noticed that I'm carrying a rather heavy load of gear here. I was not told what to expect, I was told that I would be informed upon arrival. Will I be needing any of these heavy weapons? Many of my men have them, also. Heavy machine guns, mortars, plastic explosives, claymores, sniper rifles, IR goggles, UV goggles, light intensifying nightvision goggles, satellite uplinks, secure wireless communications, battlefield monitors, grenades, assault rifles, extra ammo for everything, two pistols, a knife, a laser target-painter..." "If it's too heavy, perhaps you want help from us girls?" "No ma'am, I mean, thank you ma'am, we'll carry what we have to, for as long as we have to. However, there will come a time when a light step will be necessary, and nothing that we don't need should be on us. It's sounding like the heavy weapons mighted be a mixed bag. We'd need them to hold the compound against any major infantry assault, but they might draw attention to the building and get us all bombed to he...ck" "I see what you mean, Major. I'll have to check with my leaders. I'll get back to you on that. In the mean time..." "We'll lug it all, ma'am."
--------------------------------------------------------------
Commodore Fortino was pacing the deck of his flagship, watching as the islands came into view. They were between them, now, barely avoiding treacherous waters. Fairly soon they would have no option but to stop running, and await the enemy. He never liked running away from a fight, even if it was a fight he was going to lose. "Comm, get me the insertion team."
"Can't you walk over to their cabins and talk to them yourself, sir? Do we really need to use the secure radio, sir?"
"Are you questioning my orders, Lieutenant?"
"Nosir. Right away, sir". He paused, a strange expression appearing on his face. He rechecked everything, tried, again, and still the same expression. "Sir, I can't raise them, sir."
"That is unfortunate, Lieutenant. I was hoping to get a progress report."
"Sir?"
"That will be all."
"Very good, sir".
Seconds later, the fleet halted, unable to retreat farther without accurate maps of the ocean bottom (OOC: please get them to me, or at least a brief verbal description /OOC). Here they would await their fate. He had one last trick to stall for time.
"XO, prepare to order a small detachment of escorts to slow down the opposing fleet."
"Very good, sir. What shall it be comprised of, sir?"
"Send out 2 Centaur Class destroyers, 3 Sabre Class destroyers, 7 Defiance Class frigates, 1 Dreadnaught Class SSGN, and a Swordfish Class SSN. And give them air cover for as long as you can."
"Yessir. What are to be their orders, sir?"
"They are to move to contact with the enemy fleet, and attempt to pick off some of the outlying ships. Stall them, force them to bring up their heavy guns and stay put with their advance forces. At that point, they are to run like hell. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Commodore."
*OOC: Wow, you guys move fast! I meant to talk about what equipment would be necessary before we got off the beach. Oh well.

OOC: Oh yea, we do. :p I don't like it anymore than you do. In fact, I wish I had more time to RP. But for some reason, it keeps speeding up between the many drop offs and different RL time zones. I'll post a long naval/ground/linit post tomorrow, and try to slow things down.

PN, I am very sorry, it's just I am having a lot of difficulty keeping the pace right with three different subplots for my five seperate plots in this RP I am doing (which, by the way, is my first ever full RP. On NS. Ever. Thought I'd let you know.)

*is going to collapse from stress*

OOC: Okay, can we do a long pause on this RP until the beginning of January. Like, January 3rd? And then maybe could I go back and reset some things so the RP flows nicer even in all the different time zones?

Please?

OOC:
1. No apology necessary. You had no way of knowing that I had anything else to say.
2. For your first RP on NS, you're doing a damn good job. Don't worry about it.
3. January works for me... just the fact that school starts again a little after that will limit my involvement to probably one post per day.
4. I plan to check the thread every day or so, even if nothing is up. If plans change, I'll be right back in the thick of things before you know it.

OOC: Okay, and thank you. *slumps in chair with relief* Do you have any idea what time it is here? 1:14 AM. Well, one or two long posts a day may actually make this RP work better, except that there are a lot of in detail conversations here. I guess I'll have to give permission to RP my characters taking to make the posting easier.

I'm done with this OOC stuff, and perhaps I'll see you 'round in the digital realm.

I need this vacation. :D

Franklin took a deep breath. What in the hell was going on this place? Not only could these damn locals keep their country in order, they couldn't even keep a damn coalition together. He was not particularly happy to have been sent here, his baby was due next week. Likely, he would not be home in time. There were better things to be doing than mucking around in this damn tropical jungle.

But the matter on hand was even more frustrating at this point. Barton was a well respected officer, hell his family had been more than instrumental in the revolution that had brought this current system of government into power. Did this... Linit know what she was asking of him. Political suicide. Figures. And this 'we are Lindim crap'. Mere patriotic bullshit. He'd heard plenty in all his secret liason operations inside enemy territory. He knew exactly what the hell they were, brainwashed chics who happened to be very deadly. He had no doubt that if he made one false move, this bitch would kill him. Or not... it would be dangerous. She had to know that to do so would jeopardize the entire mission. His men would fire shots in return, the Linits would kill his men, his men would kill them. Explosions would attract rebels. The PNs would get caught in the crossfire. And more than likely this PM would be executed before the firefight was over.

What in the hell was going on in this country? It sure as hell didn't make any sense to him. All these problems of capitalism versus socialism... I mean... his own nation had solved these problems years before. Was it really that bloody difficult to do. Sometimes, states just didn't know how to run themselves. If it were up to him, let the state of Lindim collapse. The Commonwealth, and more than surely one Andrew Franklin did not belong in this god-forsaken jungle hellhole.

But the clock was ticking. Enough bitching. "Lady, listen up. You're asking me to take the word of some foreigner over the word of a man whose family practically founded the Commonwealth. I can't exactly do that..."

Sergeant Colair had been watching the whole affair from afar. Jesus H. Christ, he mused, if he weren't stuck in the middle of the whole thing it would actually be pretty fucking funny. A coalition divided in the middle of a divided country. It's ironic too, he added. However, what concerned him was the look on this new LT's face. He looked angry, and he didn't know what the hell was going on, but he caught a glint of something metallic behind the woman. At best some sort of chain, at worst, some sort of weapon. Right now, he had to prepare for the worst. He quietly flipped his safety switch off and chambered a round into his rifle. Then he walked over to the two.

"Sir, Sergeant Tyler Colair, Royal Space Marines. I was wondering if I could talk to you..." he glanced over at the Linit, and although he had always sucked at the whole communicating with women through the eyes, hell he'd been divorced twice already... he hoped she understood the whole 'please don't do anything stupid yet' look.

Franklin nodded to the sergeant, and the two took a few steps away. "What is sergeant?"

"Sir, I don't know what's going on... but I think she might have a weapon ready behind her." Franklin's head rose sharply and he stared at the waiting Linit. "But, sir" Colair added quickly, "she's been nothing more than helpful since we arrived."

"Oh really? Well your LT has given me a different story."

Colair grimmaced. This was bad. Barton was well known, well expected to rise rapidly through the ranks. Colair also knew his short temper, it was infamous in the company barracks back home. More than likely he could also be a sneaky bastard. More than likely he was setting the whole damn thing up. Colair didn't like the man, but he was still his superior officer. This was going to become a rather... big deal.

"Sir, I believe that the lieutenant may not have been entirely factual in his report to you..." Colair went on at length, for several minutes explaining the entire sequence of events, using his hands for elaborate gestures at times. Eventually Franklin nodded, and walked over to 'the Linit'

"It seems that we may have a minor misunderstanding. Sergeant Colair over there has explained his interpretation of events as they've occured. As such, despite the contradictions between all three stories you've presented me, I see no reason right now to separate my troops from your command. We will continue on mission as detailed by you. You have my word."

Colair meanwhile smiled. He knew, however, that his career was now over. But he'd be able to return home feeling proud about himself for saving dozens of lives.

ooc: that long pause suits me fine

OOC: We need to get the time zone thing right, every time I come on here in the morning I find that you've all done two pages without me!

IC:
The Infantry were in the Humvee, there commander had told them to be on alert and not to trust these Lindim people, not until they had met the head of the loyalist forces. The Chinooks had gone some were else, they had gone back to the ship until they were needed. There were still three Apaches above them. Ambush was most likely.
The Apaches would report anything and shoot anything that could ambush the convoy.

OOC: I don't know what to write really.

OOC: Resisting temptation to respond...

Major Thompson, lugging his soul-crushing load of weapons and supplies until told otherwise, was nontheless alert to the world around him. That's the only way to survive in the special ops, he used to say. Ahead and a little to the right, was a Linit with her knife out, hidden expertly behind her back. Her face was calm, but her eyes were on fire. Only discipline held her back from the cockroach of a young second lieutenant who was in her face. He could respect that kind of discipline. It was the only way to survive in special ops, he used to say.
Ever since his forces came onto the beach, Thompson had been impressed by the methodical and precise movements and actions of the Linits. He was glad he was fighting with them, and not against them, in this chaotic wasteland of a jungle. Thompson then saw as a Sergeant, perhaps the only Azazian around with a cool head, calm the situation down. Admirable. He would pass this man's quiet heroics on to the Azazian superiors, although they might not understand the full meaning of what had happened. Many people high in the ranks view heroics as saving lives in a battle by killing the enemy or carrying soemone to safety. Would they recognize the heroics of preventing the battle in the first place? He hoped so. Otherwise, he was doomed. The hotheaded second lieutenant was his CO, and he wouldn't escape without a reprimand.
Thompson approached the group of officers and the Linit. "Hello, friends, I trust that everything is alright?"
"That little piece of..."
"No, it was..."
"Why, if you think..."
"Just one more..."
Thompson's eyes darted to the blade, moving into position behind the Linit's back.
"Gentlemen! I might not be in your unit, but as the ranking officer here I'm forced to remind you of your manners. Where is your training? Where is your discipline? Where is your common sense? What you geniuses fail to understand is that we're among friends. These Linits are the reason we're all here, we were sent for absolutely no other reasons than to help them. If you don't like it, perhaps you should resign from the military, because here we do what we are told and we take life as it comes. And death. But death to the enemy, for god's sake, not to our allies. I have ears, second lieutenant, and from what I have heard you have quite a bit of power back at home. Well, from what I have seen, you didn't inherit anything else from your fathers before you. Shenanigans will not stand under my command, nor on my battlefield. Sergeant, I will do my best to keep you from being sacked. And... excuse me, ma'am... I don't know your name... Madame Linit, I apologize for this young man. I assure you that he does not reflect the views of my unit. We, at least" He rolled his eyes, "know where our loyalties lie. We'll fight and die with you, Linit. For the honor of Pacific Northwesteria."

Merry Christmas, one and all!

OOC: I'm not Christian, but yes, Merry Christmas! Hope you have fun!

Wish I could respond to these great posts. But remember, Jan. 3 we return with a vengeance! Or something...

[I'm not Christian either. I'm a Unitarian Universalist. Who cares? Hell, my dad's an atheist and he celebrates Christmas (to be fair, it was ground into him as a boy as he grew up as a Fundamentalist 8-0 ]

I'm Anglican.

ooc: I know we're on pause, but I wanted to get this in there before skipping over the confrontation...

ic:
Barton glared at the PN officer. “Sir, with all due respect, as the ranking officer of the Royal Star Marines, you have no jurisdiction over me or my men. In fact, your claim that this is your command and your battlefield… well suffice to say that’s a rather ludicrous statement.”

Franklin, standing behind Barton as he addressed Thompson watched as Barton began to bicker with this major. To a point, Barton was correct. The Commonwealth had never signed off on abdicating its command authority to any nation, and so while this Thompson character technically ranked above Barton, and even over himself, they were more like colleagues, equal colleagues. Right now though, he didn’t know what the hell he had managed to walk into. Figures though, the damn Marines can never get anything right.

Colair stood behind Franklin and next to the Linit, whose name he still didn’t know. He’d have to ask her at some point, but he was more shocked than anything. The entire mission was seemingly dissolving right before him. Thankfully no one had fired a shot yet, so there was nothing to alert any rebel forces… but he couldn’t count on this disagreement from escalating. He simply looked towards Barton who was arguing something with this major, and then at Franklin, who seemed both confused, and amused at the situation, and then at the Linit. He smiled at her, “Kinda ironic, wouldn’t you say? The whole coalition to help your nation that splits in half finds itself split in half.” He certainly hoped it would lighten her mood, and not lead her to do anything drastic.

The rest of the Commonwealth forces had meanwhile stopped, all their leading officers and one sergeant had suddenly congregated over by the Lindimese woman and some officer of the PN forces. Not knowing what was going on, but sensing sudden tension, Corporal Edward Blithe gathered his Royal Marines. “Gentlemen, fan out. Unsafety your weapons and prepare to use force to defend our comrades.” Blithe drifted over to Franklin’s XO and gave a similar order, although phased as a suggestion since he was in fact an officer.

While Barton was arguing over command authority with Thompson, while Franklin humored himself in the utter absurdity of the moment, while Colair tried small talk between himself and the Linit the Commonwealth forces formed an arc around the group of officers at the rear of the column of troops. Blithe walked to each man, and when all were in position they crouched on one knee and brought their rifles to bear. Each rifle was now ready to fire upon Blithe’s command.

Meanwhile, Barton continued his rambling rant at Thompson, “And furthermore, I don’t need tell you that your insulting my family legacy is inexcusable from a so-called ally. Maybe it’s just that you don’t understand the importance of family heritages, because you sure don’t seem to grasp their importance in Azazian culture. And in addition, you can say whatever you want about Sergeant Colair,” he paused as he threw a menacing glare in Colair’s direction, “but he is still my sergeant, not yours. And if you want me to respect chains of command... you respect my authority, is that clear,” pausing for emphasis, “major?” Barton made sure to put enough emphasis on that last word that he couldn’t get in trouble for addressing a superior, but enough sarcasm that all present could sense Barton’s blatant dislike and disrespect for the officer.

Franklin finally burst out loud with a sharp laugh, while Colair, who had clammed up around the Linit after his little observation hung his head, having caught just a glimpse of his men surrounding the cluster of officers. But he smiled for the same reason as Franklin. It really was a funny situation. Unfortunately, it was punctuated by the noticeable cocking of the Azazian rifles behind them all.

Blithe stepped forward, purposely pointing his rifle at the ground so as not to provoke the foreigners from harming his LT and his sarge. “Lady and gentlemen, you will not harm these officers of the Commonwealth or you will be shot. Is that understood? My men now have each of you under their scopes and their safeties are off, I assure you.”

Thompson was more surprised than anyone at the Azazian response to his observations, which he had meant simply to make them realize the silliness of what they were about to do. Somehow, he had made it worse; he had gotten them to the point of uncloaked hostility. He had tried the chiding temper. That had not worked. Now he would try to calm everybody down. It would be admitting defeat on one level, but it would save the day.
"Lieutenant, I suggest you ask yourself one question. Would you rather kill Pacific Northwesterians or kill the rebels who are at this moment ripping the nation of our mutual ally to shreds? I assure you, any gunfire on your part and they will come. Why are we bickering amongst ourselves? This is quite pointless, and if you came here intending to work against us, you shouldn't have come. But you did. Meaning that, on some level, you want to do this mission. Even if you personally disagree with the politics of it all, you seem like excellently trained men, and ones who follow the orders of your superiors unquestioningly." (with this, he gave a little wink to Colair). "I apologize most humbly if you feel I have overstepped my bounds and encroached on your turf, so to speak, but I simply wanted to resolve the issue. As for family heritage, we in Pacific Northwesteria have a different way of considering it. It matters a great deal to the individual: each boy and girl grows up revering their ancestors and respecting their lineage. However, it does not matter socially... it does not affect relative rank in society. Let me assure you that I meant no insult, but rather wanted to put things into perspective, so that we don't all get shot."
He nodded to the riflemen, fingers on triggers.
"Do you really want to make murderers out of these fine boys? They will do anything you say. They are to protect your men, you say? That may be, but if it is so then you have misjudged our animosity. The Linits are well-trained enough not to strike without reason. We are here to help them, they would not harm us unless we struck first. And I can assure you that goes for my men as well. However, we would consider an attack on the Linits an attack on ourselves. If you are truly motivated by defense, I urge to to either have your men stand down, or point their rifles the other way so that we don't get ambushed."
Finally, he pulled Barton off to one side, and said to him in a quiet but deadly voice, "Lieutenant, don't call me a Major unless you plan on treating me as one."

OOC:
Where is everyone? I thought it was supposed to start up again today! Anyways, I'll check back a bit later, but not much later, because I have school tomorrow. And I'll be busy for the rest of the week, but if I get a chance I'll pop in and post. Let me know what's up.

ooc: Just waiting for Lindim to respond, but otherwise I'd be ready to roll... but since its his RP... that wouldn't make much sense...

OOC: Azazia, you could still respond to my confrontation post... that's essentially between you and me, the Linits won't get involved unless you talk to them or someone starts shooting people. Unless you're planning on ending the conversation now, we should be able to proceed without Lindim. That said, I probably don't have time anymore tonight. I'll check when I can.

ooc:
Hmmm, I'm checking during my free period, and still no posts. Does anybody know what's up with Lindim?

Didn't he say that we start this RP again on the 5/1/05?

uh-oh

To all Americans, that's the 5th of January, because you seem to put your date the wrong way round.

OOC: I'm not Christian, but yes, Merry Christmas! Hope you have fun!

Wish I could respond to these great posts. But remember, Jan. 3 we return with a vengeance! Or something...
ooc: Nope, it's the 3rd. Except he's not here. Something must have come up... I guess I'll just keep checking back until something happens. Azazia, unless you really want to wait, if you could respond we could at least keep the IC thread alive and in recent memory.

Barton glared at the man, feeling no need to hide his hostility. This indignant foreigner had dared to insult him, and now threatened his very life. "I assure you, sir, I call you a major by name only. You appear and act more as if a conscripted private. However, I am glad that you finally have realized your rank - or rather lack of rank in the Commonwealth's forces. The Royal Marines are under my command, not yours. And you will be best served by stepping out of the whole situation. So go, piss off in your fancy-schmancy (whatever type of insignia is worn to denote rank on your uniforms) and let me lead my unit in accordance with Commonwealth policy." He turned away from the officer and promptly stepped away to confer with Blithe. He reached the firing line and nodded to his Colonel, "Thank you, Blithe. I believe at this point you can safety your weapons and stand. I think that incompetent Pacifican has finally realized that we are in command of ourselves - and not them. I think the threat from those bastards is over. As for the damn woman in charge... I dunna know. We can leave her be for now, but the first sign of trouble, I want you to draw up contingencies..."

Franklin finally stopped laughing and headed over towards Barton and Blithe, who had finished their conversation by the time Franklin had walked over. "Gentlemen, are we understood on this; no one will fire upon anyone here. Not the Linits, not the Pacificans, not ourselves. Only the rebel force. While I may not like them as much as you, firing shots will effectively kill us. And I personally don't take too kindly to being killed."

At the same time, Colair smiled back at the Linit and gave a slight bow of his head, he treaded over to Barton and Blithe and his unit. Without a doubt, the whole thing wasn't over... but hopefully enough of a hiatus to allow the mission to be completed. But it was certainly more tense now than ever before.

OOC: Sorry, vacation unexpectedly extended by internal family strife. I'll respond to all your posts forthwith. Forthwith meaning, of course, later today, at about 3:30 PM EST.

Was it the Tsunami?

OOC: The infantry ambush I will type up tomorrow, Mattvia.

Booni Islands jungle, approx. 30 km ((OOC: This can be changed.))

Uyse wanted to cry and scream at the same time. The Tao. React to the Tao, move with it, but do not get upset at it. Still, she had hardly figured professional soldiers would act like-

"Boys?" Another Linit, Kara was her name, slid behind Uyse and shook her head sadly. "We estimate a 30 kilo distance to our target, and the weapons cache is just a few hundred feet up ahead," she said, gesturing to a group of bushes just behind the other Linits, whose faces seeemd to express a mixture of amusement and concern. "We need to solve this now."

Uyse sighed and smoothed her skirt, images of Tre torturing Fuego running through her mind. "Okay," she said with a look of utter distaste on her face, "We'll get this all fixed within a matter of seconds." She strode over to the foreign soldiers, all of them almost fixing their rifles on each other and opened her mouth to speak.

"Who here would like to die?" Uyse looked at all the men evenly, making eye contact at every chance she had. "Gathered here are some of the world's most elite soldiers. But that will not stop you from dying when this jungle is carpet-bombed. Because Tre," she said, gesturing south of her, "will have control of an alternate source of satellite imagery within twelve hours, only a few at the least." Uyse turned and walked over to the weapons cache, a deep unerground pit, hidden by jungle ferns and bushes and filled with old boxes and crates of various weapons and ammunitions. "But do not worry," Uyse said, pulling up a box of fragment grenades and passing them out to the Linits. "I have no doubt your funerals will be respectful, and those you leave behind will be well-cared for." She sat down on a box and looked back at the foreigners. "So, will we move out and engage the enemy, or will we kill each other now. I'm fine either way, I'd just like to know now."

Every Linit behind her resisted the urge to draw their pistols. Uyse had always been somewhat of a risk-taker...

***************

The L.S.S. Nioly, a Dreamer Shark-class destroyer.

((OOC: This applies to PN, the stray ship v.s. battle I referred to.))

Commander Lisle was very proud of herself. Of her crew and ship also, of course, but she did have a right to feel proud today. Rain Admiral Runad Sero himself had chosen her ship to lead the advance guard, ahead of the rest of the Northern Fleets. Engagement with foreign vessels was nearly certain, and so she had had all battel stations readied, any defensive systems online, and a sonar line was trailing behind the destroyer. She trusted the Socialist subs that was running patrol even father ahead, but it never hurt to be safe.

Still, what concerned her now was the post she was reading.

//Unindentified Pacific Northwestian
//Size: Approx. destroyer
//Location: NW
//Speed: 15-25 knts.
//Alignment: CBDR (variates)

"Ensign," she said to the short, young-looking sailor in front of her, "I want our to bring us bearing directly on the ship, and increase our speed to 25 knots. And send a radio message off that we are engaging a lone destroyer, no support is needed currently.

The ensign smiled dumbly and saluted. Sighing, Lisle dismissed her and turned back to the map. We have only one 5" gun, but I think we outnumber this ship in missile ratios. If we get the first strike it's over, so I just have to stay out of CIWS range.

OOC: Checks TGs, I've had an idea. :)

OOC: school tomorrow, so no time to post now. Time for bed. Will post tomorrow, I hope.
I have a lone destroyer? Ok, first I heard of it ;-) perhaps I'll have the task force I sent to slow them down spread out to cover any possible logical approach route, and have the rest of the group converge if resistance is encountered. That would be one way to get the escalating conflict you were talking about.

Booni Islands

Lieutenant Franklin watched the events unfolding, and glanced down at his Comlink. Sure enough, it was on record. The entire unfolding had been recorded, and now his secondary mission was accomplished. The Linits apparently considered the actions of the Commonwealth childish. More to his advantage really, well, his and the Commonwealth's. Either way, this objective had been secured, and it was time to move to the primary. Franklin moved over to Barton, "2nd Lieutenant, I am hereby removing you from command of your unit; Sergeant Colair, you are hereby acting command of this unit. Are we understood."

Barton stood dumbfounded, the previously lethargic Franklin was now issuing orders, orders subverting the authority of a Barton... Something was wrong with this man. "Sir, I must protest, under what auth--"

"Barton, if you dare countermand these orders under the technical provisions of the Commonwealth Code of Military Procedure, I will be forced to provide on-sight enactment of the regulations providing for the containment of classified matters of national security measures as per the Code of the Central Directorate, is that clear, second lieutenant?"

Barton's confidence shrunk like a salted slug. The Central Directorate, the mysterious branch of the Commonwealth armed services... rumored to report directly to the Emperor himself. What they were doing here... it was anyone's guess... but it didn't really matter anyway. Barton had been beaten. "I acknowledge, sir, the authority of the Central Directorate. Sergeant, you are now in command."

Colair nodded, "Colonel, I believe it would now be a good time to holster those rifles. We have a weapons cache to secure that lies several dozen meters in that direction. LT Franklin, the Marines are now at your command."

Franklin nodded, now looking and acting the full part of an experienced commander, "Sergeant Colair, your men are to take point, however my sniper will move into firing position once we reach the cache. He will take out any and all armed guards, and then your men will secure the weapons. Is that clear?"

Colair nodded, "Yessir."

"Madam Linit, I'd recommend that you or your comrades provide recon and inform us as to how many men are defending that weapons cache and once that is secured the main detention center. At that point, I will confer with you Major Thompson upon our direct course of action for securing the perimeter for the rescue to be operated by the Linits." Franklin unstrapped the SMG from his back and loaded a fresh magazine. "I suggest, everybody, that we get a move on. We still have 30 klicks to make."

OOC: school tomorrow, so no time to post now. Time for bed. Will post tomorrow, I hope.
I have a lone destroyer? Ok, first I heard of it ;-) perhaps I'll have the task force I sent to slow them down spread out to cover any possible logical approach route, and have the rest of the group converge if resistance is encountered. That would be one way to get the escalating conflict you were talking about.

OOC: Yeah, it's called roleplaying. :p If you don't want to, then just say so. I was just bored and looking for a very small, fun naval battle.

OOC: Azazia, interesting turn of events, but unless you comlink has really good technology, I doubt you would have heard the other Linit, Kara, say "Boys" to Uyse. The speech by Uyse would have been recorded, but Kara was talking only to Uyse. He may have been able to read her lips, though.

ooc: Franklin hearing her call them all 'boys' wasn't what the post was going after, his reaction to that was just fleshing out my post, Franklin's commlink recorded her whole conversation with the riflemen and then shot a secured encrypted message to a Commonwealth satellite, it didn't record her 'boys' comment or anything like that and Franklin would have been able to perhaps read her lips, but that's immaterial, he didn't hear the comment, I think that works. Also, would the allied fleets have reached Tenb by now? I think that was the name of the island where all the forces were rallying...

OOC: Avast, ye be right, me matey! Clever thunkin' you done thar! Argh! And I do be believin' that them thar allied farces (no pun intended) do be at the city!

Shiver me timbers if I don't have a nice fine post up tonight with the ambush on Mattvia and movement with the Linit's and their crew! Argh!

OOC: Yeah, it's called roleplaying. :p If you don't want to, then just say so. I was just bored and looking for a very small, fun naval battle.
ooc: Really? I've never heard of that before :p Yes I want to, it sounds fun, even if I can't do it particularly well. I'm not familiar enough with the ships I'm using and their efficiency to RP this accurately. However, I believe I can muster enough story to RP this in a way that is very fun for the both of us. Correct me, of course, if I make a brain fart.

OOC: No problem. Refer to a storefront if you want to know what a destroyer has, and you can fudge on the radar and AEGIS and such if you want to. Okay, RP your ship.

OOC: Really sorry everyone, I'll respond to jungle warfare tomorrow and Mattvia, I promise we can do the ambush on infantry tomorrow. Once again, I apologize.

On Board the HMS Yorke
Tenb, Lindim

Atkinson ran his fingers over the new gold insignia, Vice Admiral. Just for winning one battle, and he was promoted. Not that he was complaining, it meant a larger command when he returned, but it wouldn’t bring back the dead. And there were already too many dead. Atkinson placed the new patch on his cabin’s bunk. In addition to the crown and anchor there were two stars. But he had no time for such pleasantries and formalities, there was a war to fight, even if it was not yet fully recognized back home. Atkinson strode out onto the out-side bridge and looked upon the city of Tenb, a coastal city. Different architecture here, he mused. The Commonwealth, being farther north, had no real need for such buildings that dealt with heat and humidity. But the same feel, he had been raised in a coastal town… not a town, but the grand port city of Breningrad. He had watched the naval ships leave their base for deployments many a time… not even dreaming he would one day command some of those very ships one day in battle. But here he was, moored off a foreign coast, taking on supplies. About to meet with the commander of the second Commonwealth carrier to arrive, and together they would conference with the commander of the Andaman and Nicobar force, which was still holding off on joining the fray, apparently the Admiralty was concerned about their nuclear arms. Regardless, he’d like to have those forces on his side. They could still reach that damned socialist fleet, although it was still far enough away as of now to not be an immediate threat. Hopefully they’d all be done by then. Because he didn’t like having his back to a narrow strait. But just in case, ASW frigates had been deployed to the south and around the northern capes to provide early warning. It’s a shame, really, most of these most people don’t even want this revolt, but they are all going to pay the price. Atkinson wasn’t an economist, but he didn’t want to begin to think of the economic impact all this disruption was going to cause to Lindim, and even how much the Commonwealth would spend. Who was going to pay the Commonwealth’s costs was the number one question in his mind. Surely Lindim would owe the Commonwealth and the Pacificans and the Mattvians dearly. There were even rumors of more foreign vessels. Intel had provided pictures of DPUO also engaged in the conflict… it was going to get messy, that was for sure.

Central Directorate Offices
Outside Imperium, Commonwealth Republic of New Britain

Catherine Hood opened the new file on her computer desktop, Operation Playground Tiff. Inside were several audio files as well as many more visual files. She shut her office door, brushed the blonde hair out of her face, and placed her headphones on and hit PLAY on the latest file,

Unidentified Woman Commando: Who would like to die? Gathered here are some of the world’s most elite soldiers But that will not stop you from dying when this jungle is carpet bombed. Because Tre will have control of an alternate source of satellite imagery within twelve hours, only a few at the least. But do not worry, I have no doubt your funerals will be respectful, and those you leave behind will be well cared for. So will we move out and engage the enemy, or will we kill each other now? I’m fine either way. I’d just like to know.

Interesting, thought Hood, but boy is she a bitch. Hate to have her against me. However, that wasn’t the part that most concerned her, it was the brief comment about the socialists regaining satellite imagery. They could use that to pinpoint the loyalist forces, or worse, the Commonwealth forces. Either way, no matter who they would target first, that could not happen. She closed the file and began to type a report to her senior officers.

Ministry of Defence
Imperium, Commonwealth Republic of New Britain

Daniel Blair leafed through the report on his desk, and then looked up at the man in front of him, some nameless dispatch from the Central Directorate, the quickest and most-secure manner of delivering information. Apparently, the damn socialists were going to attempt to regain satellite control, or at least pirate satellites to capture imagery and restore secure medium-long range communications. For obvious reasons, that placed the Commonwealth assets in the area in direct danger. Not to mention the Loyalist forces and the coalition forces in the area.

Blair closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He had to give the Lindimese credit, they were persistent. They were worthy adversaries, but the Commonwealth had the advantage of a unified front, they were splitting from their comrades and brothers-in-arms. Unfortuantely, they were also serving only to damage the life of all Lindimese. More than likely the more remote parts of the islands didn’t like having no satellite TV and no satellite communication and such. Not to mention the loss of instantaneous contact with the rest of the world. The economic impacts were surely going to be high, but that was not his concern, that was Ivan’s over in Foreign Affairs. Or Finance, or Economics. One of them. His was securing the peace and making Commonwealth forces safe, then the Loyalists and the coalition.

He pulled up a schematic on his personal computer, an ultra-thin plastic display that fit in his hand. He thumbed through the details, glancing at the specifics and the necessary force deployments. Not to complicated, nothing that couldn’t be done on short notice. He waved his hand to dismiss the dispatch and proceeded to call up the base commander of the airbase on Car Nicobar. After confirming identities and exchanging pleasantries, he finally got down to business.

“Thank you, General. But today I am calling on business. I’m sure you’re aware of the business going on in Lindim.”

“Of course,” the gruff voice responded, “constant air patrols are in operation and I am coordinating with the Royal Navy battle group up in Port Blair for sea patrols. Nothing detected yet, but then we have been staying quiet and off the radar.”

“Excellent, that’s what I wanted to hear. But now I am going to need you to prepare to do something that will,” Blair paused, trying to find an eloquent means to express his intentions, “make noise and be seen, but be kept off radar. Here’s what I want you to do…”

The Ministry of Foreign Affairs
Imperium, Commonwealth Republic of New Britain

Ivan Valovich sat, listening to Blair’s request. “I agree, Daniel, that is rather… drastic as you put it. But I concur, it must be done. I do feel bad for all the citizens though, going through this horrible mess of a revolution. I am entirely glad we’ve seemingly gotten rid of those whole messy affairs.”

“Agreed, Ivan, but please, we must get this going quickly. I am working only a scale of… an hour.” Blair was lying, according to the intel, even by the Linit’s conservative estimate he still had a few hours, but better to get the diplomat moving now, he tended to be slow and… well like a diplomat otherwise. “I need you to get in touch with their interim PM, or that Sand General. Tell them I need the coordinates for all known bases of Socialist operations for… precision… cruise missile strikes.”

“And in case they refuse? Or should wish to speak to you for more operational details?”

“Ivan, my dear friend, that’s why you are talking to them, I can’t be bothered explaining the operation. If they request me, tell them that I’m busy – and believe me, I will be. If they should refuse, well… tell them they have no choice in the matter, the orders will be given to protect Commonwealth forces regardless. Again, give that vague promise of help after the conflict. But, now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to attend to other important matters.” Blair excused himself and left Valovich to deliver the message.

Valovich was always wary of the young upstart, but he could do nothing really as this time he had a point. The men and women of the Commonwealth were threatened, as was everyone else… but still. Perhaps that was why he was on this side of the street, he didn’t like war, whereas the opposing building lived for war. Either way, he had a duty to perform. He opened up the secure communication link to Tirrew, and (ooc: taking some leaps here, Lindim, so we don’t get bogged down in one line communications in the story) after dealing with undersecretaries and ministers finally reached the man.

“Ahh, Mr. Tirrew, so good to see you. I do hope all is well, however, I assure you it is not on the field. My comrade, Minister of Defence Daniel Blair has asked me to inform you that he knows where Miss Fuego is being held and that he has received intelligence reports indicating that Tre is going to regain satellite capability very shortly. Mr. Blair has given orders to eliminate all Socialist command and control centers with precision cruise missile strikes, and in that regard was hoping you and General Nuhmi might have precise coordinates for Socialist bases. He also intends on launching a coordinating strike with those preparing to secure Prime Minister Fuego, and he hopes that very shortly our team will have her back in safe hands…”

Jungle of the Booni Islands

Franklin pulled out his Comlink, having heard it give its quiet chirp. A message. It was simple, encoded of course, but easily decipherable. Once he had it decoded he read the simple phrase The Blind Man Stumbles While the Seeing Man Walks. He typed up a quick response that was of course encoded in a different sequence and then sent up through the secure link. It too was simple; Franklin loved the line, No shit dumbass.

He quickly moved over to the Linit, “Ma’am, about those satellites, I can assure you that… for the most part, given our Royal flyboys don’t screw up, they shan’t be a problem for that much longer. And in addition, before we begin our assault on the make-shift prison facility, there will be an event that will knock out all of the Socialists’ electronic equipment. It actually should be quite nice to watch, pretty colors and all.” Franklin smiled at the Linit and laughed, “Figures with those damn flyboys, they like pretty little flying things.”

OOC: A naval post will come, I just had to dispatch alot of short ones.

Booni Jungle

Uyse stifled her sigh and simply shook her head. "You don't know Tre," she said sadly. "We're winning the battles, but Tre will cost you and your country dearly. She is winning the war." Sighing, she slid a magazine into her pistol and pointed it south. "Tre has stationed regular Lindimese Marines, approximately fifty, at an outpost, which is exactly two kilometers north of our target. Officially, we are supposed to give the Socialist Marines a chance to surrender, however," she said with a grim smile, "weapons are free. That's my authority."

Uyse bowed to the Azazian and Pacifics. "We are not trained in conventional warfare methods. You may lead."

Kara tapped Uyse on the shoulder and whispered. "You do know you're being a bitch, right?"

"Look at how these men were behaving. I would rather be a successful and alive bitch than a nice, dead, failure."

***************

Socialist Marine Outpost

Sergeant Etron ran his fingers lightly over the handles of the machine gun, the soldiers below him laughing nervously in the Humvee's armored walls. Tre had assigned them guard duty, and she never did anything without a good reason.

"Clear!" a Marine from the observation tower above called out.

Sergenat Etron simply tightened his grip.

***************

Unknown

Tre looked at the satellite imagery intently, ignoring the various machinations of the navies and armies and such. Admiral Sero was a genius, and he could defeat a fleet twice the size of his already formidable one.

The movement of the troops, even the Linits who thought they were undetected, was of no concern for her. She could easily escape this facility and move to a new one. But the foreigners were becoming increasingly aggressive.

She could attack their country, with the nuclear missiles Fuego did not think existed. She could put Sero against their fleets now, and destroy them in one fell swoop.

Or she could use Fuego.

To the Distinguished Foreigners,

As you are attacking my country, you may think you could attack my command outpost, if you have found it. Unfortunately, you might want to hold that action as a last resort. Fuego is my hostage, and as much as I dislike commmon terrorist tactics, I will kill her if you attempt action against this base.

I propose a twenty-four hour ceasefire while both sides may meet and have a civil discussion. During that ceasefire, any cruise missile strikes will provoke retaliation against the current Capitalizt government, which I can target anywhere, anytime. If you agree, you may decide upon the location and time of your choice. Threats against me, of course, will result in Fuego's death.

In addition, unless you are truely prepared to fight a war of unimaginable proportions, you might consider pulling your fleets from Lindimese waters. You might be fighting overseas with the support of your people, but if the fighting comes to your own country you will find it much more difficult.

With Honesty and Trust
Tre

***************

Tenb, Loyalist HQ

Tirrew shook his head sadly but still smiled. This was going to work, Tre was losing the ground battles. It was still going to be a pain dealing with the Linits once they found out their "secret" mission was turning into something else. Oh well, their problem. "I have no problem with these strikes, and General Nuhmi himself has developed a map pointing out all suspected Socialist bases. Bases of unknown and neutral alignments are, of course, left off."

Nuhmi walked over and unrolled a map, with red dots indicatin the exact coordinates for each Socialist C3. "And here," he said, laying another stack of papers on the table, "are the layouts for each base."

Suddenly an aide walked in and handed a piece of paper to Tirrew wordlessly. Tirrew read the paper slowly, his eyes growing wider at each paragraph. "I'm sorry," he said slowly, "but something's come up gentlemen. Tre has left us a message." He handed the message to the Azazian delegation and waited quietly. ((OOC: It's the message Tre wrote above.))

***************

Approaching Tenb

Aome glanced about the Humvee he was riding in, right behhind the lead Humvee. Around him, he could see nothing except for the trees and the Mattivians with the Lindimese Marines. But still something seemed-

The Humvee infront of him burst into flames and he felt this one smash into to it before falling of the road and flipping over. He smashed his head against the glass windows, and as his vision faded all around him he saw gunfirespray the line of Humvees, ripping soldiers in half as even more RPGs hit the line...

OOC: This is why I love Tre so much. She is brilliant, well-meaning, and utterly scary.

Unknown location

Tre's finger's ran over the keyboard immediately upon reception of the DPUO response, dropping off a line to the leaders of several low-profile countries. They no doubt thought of her as a common terrorist, perhaps one that is bluffing.

DPUO. A socialist nation, so why was it opposing her? She would hate to have to punish it with a nuclear strike, but if she had to... Sighing, she flipped the laptop's lid closed and slid it into her briefcase. She would address the situation later. She would continue to slow down Sero; she didn't want to decimate the allied fleets yet, and she could care less about the ground battles.

Tre stood and exited her office, meeting with the highest-ranking Special Forces soldier in the dark and dimly lit hallways. "Is it ready?" she asked quietly, looking down the hallway at the door that contained Fuego. "I want to leave as soon as possible."

The soldier nodded wordlessly and gestured to the side of him, as a secret panel slid open to reveal yet another long hallway.

Tre nodded and gestured to the soldier and the five others she would bring with her. They all carried rifles. She gave her temporary base one last look, and walked off down the metal corridor as the soldiers shut the secret panel and followed after her.

Fuego was left behind. And Tre felt satisfied with what had happened. Control of Lindim? She had alternative means of securing her goals.

ooc: finally, I get to post my ship. It's a Centaur Class, which you can read about here:
http://s7.invisionfree.com/FDI/index.php?showtopic=2

ic:
Captain Farway was pacing the bridge of the PNN Evergreen, a seasoned and proven Centaur-class. It made him nervous to travel without the rest of his fleet, but he had no other choice. They rear guard, itself designed to slow down the enemy fleet, was forced to fan out because a heavily overcast sky was making the spy planes above unable to determine exact coordinates anymore. The report called for clearing skies shortly, so there was always the hope that they would be able to reform without incident. Just in case, ASW helos were airborne, scouting the area around the ship for subs and hostile surface ships alike. It happened very suddenly, just when it had appeared that the enemy would not strike at this point in the line. A blip came onto the radar screens, a destroyer-sized blip.
"Ready all missiles, warm up the CIWS, and alert the helos they'll be target-spotting. Get the guns prepped and ready for battle. As soon as they're in range, I want to be able to unload as much lead as possible at them."
"Aye-aye, Captain."
"Helm, take us to course 023, slow down to 15 kts. It is more likely than ever for us to have subs to deal with at this point. If we don't hear them, we're dead."
"Aye!"
"Comm, radio flotilla command, and also Commodore Fortino. They'll want to know about this. If we're lucky, we'll be able to get some reinforcements here. Until they arrive, however, it's up to us to make sure those rebellious bastards don't break through to the fleet."
"Aye, Captain"
The ships were about to move into range, and Farway was tense. There was no telling what was going to happen next.

Pacific Northwesterian Special Ops
Major Thompson was relieved that the situation had been contained, at least for the moment. Nobody was dead yet, and that was saying something, considering the interactions between some of these jokers. He sidled up to the Linit who seemed to be in charge, and said, "Excuse me, Madame Linit, but you may have forgotten in all of the excitement that I am still carrying my entire supply of gear. Gear that is generally left in a foxhole, a point of retreat. My men and I need to know what is most important to bring, so that we are rested enough to fight when we get there. Not that we could ever be unable to fight, Ma'am" he corrected himself quickly, "but endurance is still an issue."
While waiting for a response, Thompson trudged on with his men, nearing the site of the first battle. Maybe it was good to have his gear at this point, for access later. A .50 cal could come in quite helpful when fighting this significant a number of highly-trained enemy marines.

Pacific Northwesteria Naval High Command
"Demands we leave, does she? What does she think, that we were under the misconception that we were there at her request? If we comply on this matter, we will be in no position to deny any further requests. We must keep our presence there, and we must hope that her dismissal of our special forces is a bluff."
"Here, here!"
"No, I tell you, that's the entirely wrong way to think about it. If we don't listen to her demands, the PM gets executed. Isn't that the entire reason we were sending special ops in the first place? Better to withdraw, and get out before we can still escape death at the hands of their fleet. They may be an Expeditionary Fleet, but they're not an expendable fleet. Think of the lives, man!"
"Here, here!"
"Yes, the lives. It always comes down to lives. What about the Lindimese? What kind of a message would we be sending to our allies if we backed down if there was a possibility of losing personnel? An alliance of that sort is made of paper. I, for one, will not have the word of the Pacific Northwesterian people be worthless. I say we stand, I say we fight. I say we die for our allies, to escape the death of a nation."
"So, now you're a philosophy major, are you? No ally could possibly expect us to stand in the middle of a trash compactor and let ourselves get smushed. They would understand if we withdrew. There is no shame in that."
The debate continued, back and forth, about the proper course of action. None could be agreed upon, and so, the situation remained the same. The Pacific Northwesterian military was going to do its duty, for Lindim.

Loyalist Headquarters
Tenb, Lindim

Lieutenant Emily Ramsey received the paper from Tirrew. Ramsey had been assigned by Atkinson upon arrival at the loyalist headquarters; he had seen necessary a direct human contact between the two governments, and so had the Ministry of Foreign Affairs – and of course due to current actions sending a true diplomat was considered too risky. Her capacity was merely as an official courier. She cautiously read the short statement, and immediately recognized she would need to go higher than Atkinson for orders. “If you will excuse me, Mr. Interim Prime Minister, I will need to confer with my superiors before I give your government the Commonwealth’s official response.” Ramsey flashed a pretty smile and saluted, then turned and headed for the motor launch that would carry her back to the Yorke.

The Citadel, Commonwealth Republic of New Britain

Emperor Barin sat at the head of the long, ornately carved conference table listening to his top aides; the Minister of Foreign Affairs and Defence. “So Daniel, from your military perspective, what do you see in this message?”

Blair closed and opened his hands before laying them flat on the table, “Mikhail, flat out, she knows that she is losing. In the sea, she temporarily enjoys the advantage of not yet having been wiped out. Apparently this Admiral Sero is one of their nation’s best, so that gives them a few extra bonuses in the department of intangibles. I think though, that ultimately Sero will be crushed. He’ll fight bravely, but with all the naval might of every nation facing him… it’s simply a matter of time. Hopefully he’ll be captured alive, I think that the Central Directorate would love to have such a man in their custody. But I digress, we’re talking about this Tre character, their former Minister of Intelligence, or officer acting in a similar capacity – title notwithstanding. Currently, a great deal of their land forces, which are the Lindimese Marine forces, are on the Socialist side. Everything else apparently has remained predominantly Loyalist. Given that, and the superior firepower of the coalition’s ground and air units deployed, the ground and air campaigns are going largely in the coalition’s favour, granted there are minor setbacks, notably it appears to the Mattvian convoy, satellite intelligence suggests an attack ongoing.

“That’s the current situation, broad outline. Now, what should we do about this message, two-fold, sir. I would strenuously advise against a 24-hour cease-fire. She still maintains a significant force in the Lindimese Navy, satellite reconnaissance has indicated that some individuals have left the compound we believe PM Fuego to be located at – as of yet unconfirmed identities, we will be coordinating shortly with Lindimese forces for indentification – and for all we know, one of those could be Tre. In fact, I would advise we act on that assumption. By this point, several hours have passed and it would be safe to presume she has regained limited satellite communications, and would be aware there are troops moving in on her location. If I were here, I’d sure as hell bug out. And 24 hours gives her that time, at least to get to a neutral location, and while we debate, she continues to move to a safe location. Either way, I’d say she’s slipped out of reach temporarily. Clever bitch. Thus, I say we move quickly against any truce. She also claimed to be against terrorist tactics, but in saying so, she’s trying to distance the fact her current actions are indeed terrorist-ic in nature… so that whole bit is a little bit non-sensical, simply trying to bolster her moral authority as a ‘good’ revolutionary.

“The part that concerns me is her comments about bringing the war to us. She knows that our fleet, in combination with the Pacificans, DPUOs, and the Lindimese is sure to blow Sero right out of the water. In part, that statement makes sense, she wants to somehow save the only real valuable fighting force that she has left. Save your Queen by sacrificing your Pawns if you catch my drift. And since Lindim is an archipelago like us, Tre’s Navy is the only thing keeping out full invasion from the coalition. However, she must have some sort of card up her sleeve, because she’s too smart to make such a blind statement and not have such a card, otherwise she’d be seriously trying to cut her losses. Sir, I’d begin warning the population that this could get ugly really quickly. I’d request that we ask Tirrew about what sorts of long-range weapon capacities Lindim has, secret and non. And what sorts of retaliatory plans they have locked up, especially in the files and computers of the Ministry of Intelligence. Until we hear back from Tirrew, consider everything a possibility from orbital strikes to simple biological and chemical warfare.” Blair finally paused, looked around hoping that his long analysis stuck, and then concluded, “Sir, she’s a clever bitch. Don’t accept the truce, don’t send anyone to a meeting, at least anyone non-expendable, and commit more ships.”

Barin nodded to Valovich, “Ivan, I need your opinion, what sort of international support is Tre likely to receive? What sort of possibilities do you see from a meeting and a truce/ your assessment of Tre, et cetera.”

Valovich nodded, and spoke slowly, deliberately, each word weighed carefully. “Your majesty, I concur with my colleagues assessment of Tre as being very clever. I concur with his analysis of the demands to leave Lindimese waters, and the point of her assuming moral superiority. I even agree to a point about Lindim having non-public means of striking the Commonwealth, I’m sure even Mr. Blair has some methods that I and especially the Lindimese don’t know about of targeting their country. However, that said, I do disagree with his statement on the conference. I think that,” Valovich paused, considering his words carefully, wanting a much briefer and more concise argument than Blair. “I think that a conference would be most beneficial. Although I doubt we can convince her to stop this armed revolution, I think it might be useful to gather intelligence on the individual. More than likely, Tre will not attack the conference goers – at least directly. To do so would be instant death. She must know this. However, she is evil, no, she is cold enough to say distribute a virus or such to the attendees and use that to eliminate the governments of those nations responsible. We could not prove it was her with evidence, and thus she would get away with more than a cautionary glance from the world while managing to weaken the resolve of those nations affected. Despite this risk, I must insist that it be worth the risk, we simply quarantine the envoy we send post-meeting. We need more solid intelligence on how this individual will react, and in fact need to make some positive contacts within her organization should by some act of god the Loyalist government actually collapse. We would not need a full-fledged war on our hands. I suggest, sir, that we send a team to Lindim to meet with these rebels. For there still is the remote possibility that this is a rogue agent who can end the conflict and save tens of thousands of lives, and that, sir, is not something we can afford to pass up.

“Gentlemen,” Barin concluded at long length, “we seem in agreement that this Tre is up to something behind her back and up her sleeves. She simply cannot be trusted. As such, Mr. Blair, I want you to hurry your mission to rescue Fuego. We need her back in our hands before she can be used as that last bargaining chip. But be smart about it, don’t have them walk into a death-trap. And Ivan, while I agree with your ideas about intelligence… I am extremely reluctant to give into those who have no consideration for the lives of even fellow citizens. She is a terrorist, plain and simple. And the Commonwealth will not deal with terrorists, plain and simple. She is not a legitimate representative of the Lindimese government, and since her violent, yet failed, coup she has proven herself to be nothing more than an impediment to the peaceful advances of her people, going against their majority belief in capitalism as a primary economic model. And while I sympathize with her socialist beliefs, you two know I too am a socialist, socialism holds as one of its key tenets the belief that a state can be and should be created through peaceful democratic means. She has chosen violent means, and I no longer consider her even a socialist. She is a disgrace to those who hold the beliefs of socialism. There will be no negotiation, no talks, no truce, unless Interim Prime Minister Tirrew desires them. This is my decision. Daniel, relay this to our envoy. Ivan, also send word to Lindim that this envoy is now the official ambassador to the Lindimese government until normal diplomatic relations can be established post-bellum.

Loyalist Headquarters
Tenb, Lindim

Ramsey entered the command center fully representing the Commonwealth, dressed sharply in the black knee-length skirt and jacket accompanying an officer attached to an Admiral’s personal staff – different than her previous white line officer dress uniform. This time she also wore the rank of a full captain. She smiled the whole time, quite impressed by her sudden promotion and assignment as temporary Ambassador to Lindim. She saluted Tirrew, not sure that if she needed to since she was an ambassador.

“Mr. Interim Prime Minister, I have the full reply from the Emperor himself. And I am also to relay the message that he is personally impressed with your leadership skills thus far in this crisis.” She handed Tirrew the envelope stamped with Atkinson’s seal of the Royal Navy. The best the Ministry could devise to simulate official diplomatic relations given the situation.


Mr. Tirrew,

The Commonwealth and I stand of the firm belief that sovereign nations do not negotiate with terrorists. As evidenced by the wanton disregard of the safety physically, economically, and politically of the Lindimese people the Commonwealth considers former Minister Tre as a terrorist, threatening both your people and mine. It is the estimation that at this time, Tre has escaped her compound that our forces were approaching, although, this cannot be confirmed. Attached you will find our most recent satellite reconnaissance photos showing six individuals leaving the compound. Since we are not as familiar with this terrorist, we could use your assistance in confirming her identity as best as possible. Given this supposition, it is the belief of the Commonwealth that any such meeting would only serve to facilitate the escape of Tre and provide her with the opportunity to move to a safe location, either within Lindim or possibly to a foreign nation. That said, we also logically do not intend on following any 24 hour ceasefire, nor do we intend on removing our fleets from your waters. You are our new friend and ally, and we do not intend on letting your nation be torn to pieces by terrorist thugs. However, I do request one thing. Given the threats Tre made to the Commonwealth, among other nations, we have no choice but to take them as real and credible. I therefore need to ask to see all information on deployable weapons that pose a danger to the Commonwealth, both public and classified. This includes any classified strategic plans for launching retaliatory or first strike weapons at an enemy. In addition, my Minister of Defence Daniel Blair believes that this threat could be carried out by even hosting such a conference as suggested. That or he has even considered a strike by ICBMs armed with nuclear warheads. We know your aversion to nuclear weapons, however, given your history of destruction he believes it possible some survived, and that Tre has them in her possession via your intelligence operations. This is all conjecture, mind you, and we have no evidence, only mere theories posed by our intelligence staff. I hope to hear from you soon. Take care, Mr. Tirrew. I am most impressed with your handling of the situation thus far, keep it up.

Mikhail Barin

When Ramsey saw Tirrew’s eyes finish reading she waited for him to look up, “Do you have any questions, Mr. Tirrew?”

The Jungle
Booni Island, Lindim

Franklin stared at the satellite data. “Madam, my suggestion would be that we send units to the east and west of this outpost. My data suggests that there are no outposts in those directions (ooc: feel free to counter this, just acting off what I have in front of me) and given that we have info on six individuals leaving the compound to the south, we need to try and make contact with them ASAP. In addition, the flanking units, which will be equipped with sniper rifles, will take out as many guards as possible and leave only light resistance for the rest of our forces. It should be quick and painless, for us at least.” Franklin smiled “After that, if you would like, my men will give your Marines the chance to surrender after being surrounded and cutoff. If they choose to fight… they die. We’ll use our handy light-weight rocket launchers to take this observation tower out. And then my Royal Spaceboys will move in. That black armor suit they’re wearing, it’s got some tech-boys hardon dreamgirl thing inside. Some sort of temperature regulator. Basically makes it extremely difficult to detect them using thermal and IR scopes. Mainly they’re just pus—excuse me, wimps, about getting shot at. They call it stealth, I call it scared. Anyway, they’re best suited for that initial strike. My men will move in second and then Pacificans can mop house and secure the outpost, they have more men than me under my command. You Linits, well you can do what you see fit with the bloody socialists. If you don’t have any objections, I’ll give the order to start flanking movements. Oh yeah, and do you have a name… or even a rank, ma’am? It seems so unprofessional to keep calling you by a gender and not your true identity.”

Admiralty of the Royal Navy
Breningrad, Commonwealth Republic of West Oceania

Lord Admiral Colin Leary stood in front of the large wall display that showed the positioning of all his naval units in the world. Currently, two carrier groups in Lindim and six independently operating submarines. He also had the ANI battleship group to the immediate west of Lindim in the the Andaman and Nicobar Islands, but that was holding position for now. However, he now had a carrier group from the Indian Ocean, one from the South Pacific south of Lindim, and two from the Commonwealth making full speed for Lindim. In 24 hours there would be five carrier groups in Lindimese waters, in another 24, there would six and another two on standby north of Lindim. He of course wished that this Sero character would simply resign and save his men and women… but he doubted it. If he was in this position himself, he would fight ‘till the end, or at least until that bitch’s revolution was crushed. He’d ideally like to buy this man some dinner, and talk naval strategy with him, but soon… no matter his immediate victories… soon he would be crushed with the whole Lindimese Navy. It was a mere matter of time, and that time was running out. He motioned for a captain, “Captain, see me a commpad, I want to address this Lindimese admiral.”



Rain Admiral Sero, you may be surprised to receive this message directly from the Commonwealth. However, I assure you that despite your limited satellite capabilities at this time, my nation and those arrayed against you retain their full capabilities. I know your ship, your fleet and your current heading. I also know you are one of the best Lindim has ever produced.

And on those counts, it is my honor to at least transmit this message to you. I won’t bullshit you, you deserve more than that since we are both fighting a war right now. So let’s cut to the chase, shall we? Your nation is divided politically, philosophically, most people support your elected Prime Minister. Now, while you may think socialism is a better economic theory than capitalism, your people overwhelmingly chose capitalism through an open democratic election. Does this mean that socialism is wrong? I hardly think so. I can tell you that myself, I believe my emperor, and in fact one of the commanders you face – Admiral Atkinson – we are all socialists. As are many, many more in my country. True, we follow capitalism, but are working towards enacting socialist reforms to change my Commonwealth for the better. We don’t win elections, but we work slowly to make changes. We pick our battles, our battles of legislation.

War, well war brings nothing but pain and death. I would be certain you can relate. I lost a son in a civil war my nation had many years ago. I’d never want to experience the same again. Now, I don’t profess to know whether or not you have a wife and kids or a family still alive, but even if you don’t, you can surely imagine all the pain that this conflict is causing right now. That socialist, that Admiral Atkinson. He lead the small battle group that defeated your former carrier. We lost nearly a thousand souls that day, the worst day of battle this nation has faced in many, many years. I lost a good deal of personal friends that day. I don’t even want to estimate how many personal friends you lost. But your commander on scene fought bravely until the end. He or she, we never found out who commanded it, sunk the pride of our fleet. The Bismarck to the Hood. And now, in a few days time, it looks as if our fleets will once again face off, though this time far larger numbers of ships will be involved. Far more men and women will be at risk. Far larger stakes lay on the table.

Personally, I understand your presumed anger at having a foreign fleet on combat missions in your home waters. I too would feel the same if you were here. However, we are here on the request of your elected government, trying to save the lives of those people that I presume you have been sworn to protect. Right now, the Commonwealth economy is taking, not a hit, but an impact with the high numbers of troops and munitions deployed. However, my nation isn’t watching its infrastructure be destroyed, its labour force killed, its means of global communication and trade interrupted. In these past several days, your people have suffered enough that will surely last them a great number of years. As have mine. And my job is to protect the citizens of the Commonwealth, as yours to protect those of Lindim.

I ask you, as one naval admiral to another, as one decent human being to another, to help us stop this madness. Our nations can work together and attempt to get some of your political goals become reality through peace and not through blood. Lay down your arms and help save lives.

I only hope you receive this message with an open mind.

Take care, Admiral.

Fleet Admiral of the Commonwealth Royal Navy, Sir Lord Colin Leary

OOC: These are really good posts, and I will have a long, Fuego/Tre/Linits/Sero/Tirrew post up later. Actually, I like the RP with just 3 people in it, so I am sad to say Mattvia, due to inactivity, is gone. Anyways, time to begin typing the posts.

OOC: My apologies for my absense (final exams and projects), but if you'd still like me to be in I should be able to draft up a large post some point next week when they are all finished. In the meanwhile, I'd suppose that I can assume that my ships are underway, perhaps?

ooc:
I'd be fine with that. Welcome back!

OOC: Omz, not sure about that, now. Actually, considering an upcoming plot twist, perhaps yes. You will all see soon! ;) I'll let you know tomorrow.

Azazia, also, Tre and her special forces soldiers are still in the underground passage, so you couldn't see them with satellites. I'll run with it, though.

As for the jungle operation, I suggest you two, Azazia and Pacific, RP it our yourselves and assume the Linits are holding back. You may RP the Socialist Marines also, for the sake of brevity.

Unknown location

Intry Fuego moaned in pain as she sucked in another ragged, beaten breath. Her throat seemed to take in each gasp of oxyegn as the splintering of sharpened metal, and the pain was so unbearable her mind seeemed ot think of nothing else. Forcing herself to breathe was an agony beyond- Tre did you poison me?

There was a last moment of lucidty, before her mind finally went blank, releasing Fuego. With a last, ragged breath, her limp body collapsed to the ground.

***************

Booni Jungle

Uyse shook her head at Franklin, smiling as widely as she could. She liked this man, despite all that had happened. "Your men seem capable enough, and we Linits truely have no higher authority than you. The only request I have is that when we reach the target, only the Linits may enter the secret tunnel that leads to Tre's offices. Other than that, it's your show, Sergeant."

She paused and her smile became a grin of mirth. "My true identity? My rank? Someday, perhaps I will tell you what a Linit really is. Suffice to say for now, we are not soldiers, and have no ranks. Uyse, is my name, if you wish a more specific label."

Laughing, Uyse awkwardly, not knowing how, saluted the Azazian and turned to Major Thompson. "And you Major, I do understand your pain in bringing all the equipment, but I suggest you and your men carry it only one or two kilometers more to the Socialist outpost, which I am sure you are capable of. You may discovered you needed the heavier weapons you've brought, and if you don't, you may leave them at the outpost as you wish. However, enough of me talking as I believe the Azazian sergeant," she said, gesturing respectfully towards Franklin, "would like to discuss your approach on the outpost."

And with that, she gave one more graceful bow, before smoothly walking over to the other Linits, who had fallen towards the back of the group and seemed to be engaged in furious discussion. She was glad to extract herself from any further talking. She was not very good at talking or anything like that, she always felt awkward and ended up sounding either moronic or bitchy. Sometimes she wished she had the social graces and commanding presence of Kara.

I do not care what they do, I only wish to fulfill our duty. And finally be free of this cursed oath. The Sea be sure we are not late...

***************

L.V.S. Lujii Stei

Rain Admiral Runad Sero tapped his fingers along his desk as he re-read the email. Do they seek to manipulate me through my compassion, or through fllatery? Do they mean what they say? And what about Tre's latest orders to surrender? Do I dare let everything collapse, everything we've fought for, believed in? The latest reports implied there was about three carrier groups total in the region, with the Sea knew how many submarines. Three carrier groups... I could defeat them with the two Northern Fleets. But if more on the way, as per the rumors, the fight could only be won with the support of Socialist ports. And even they seem to be under seige. The isles are rockey enough to- know, even I would not attempt that...

Sero spent the next hour sitting quietly in his cabin, no, suite, with only the sounds of his harddrive to accomodate him. He truely did not want to fight, but... this would ruin Socialism, so much had gone wrong. One deck beneath him, aviators and sailors watched movies and drank sodas, eager to fight, eager to die in the fight against the capitalizt foreigners.

The writer, this Sir Lord Colin Leary, thought Sero was angry. Sero decided he was not angry, upon reflection. He was tired. Tired of waiting to go to battle, tired of sleepless nights, tired of watching the lower-class oppresed, tired of corporate domination, tired of fighting, tired of not fighting, tired of Tre's contradictory and enigmatic orders.

And so, over the dark sea outside, Sero drafted a letter. the only correction he had to make was changing the "my fleet" to "the Lindimese fleet."

To the Sir Leary,

I do not expect to be treated with dignity, nor should I expect it what with my dispicable crimes and actions.

But I am not petinent. I will not surrender the Lindimese fleet to you, nor to the Loyalist. However, I will surrender mine own person upon the condition that no officers, enlisted men, or any other man or women of the fleets or the Marines be treated as POWs or be held responsible for the treason. Only myself or Tre may be held on that crime, and you will most likely only ever hold me.

This truce and rejoining is not a time for an offer of celebreation or happiness. I write this for the the Lindimese, not for myself.

With Sadness and Honesty,
Former Rain Admiral Runad Sero Ihg

Sero dragged the icon for the email to the send file, and watched the last remnants of photonic freedom blink and leave. He allowed himself only a moment of sadness before calling for his aide.

"Yes, Admiral?" the blonde-haired woman asked, sliding into his room as if from nowhere.

Sero looked at his own hands. "Call for an meeting in the assembly room for all off-duty. And Anh," he said, looking up, "can we allow the intercom system to broadcast the meeting to the rest of the ship?"

Her face showed no emotion as she nodded.

And one hour later, all across the fleet, ships began cutting their speed, planes began to return home and end their patrols, and submarines surfaced. The fleet had stopped.

Except for one lone destroyer.

***************

L.S.S. Nioly

OOC: The Dreamer Shark-class of destroyers is not completely finished yet, so use the Sparrowhawk from here (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=278770) for now.

IC: Lisle turned towards the assistant captain. "Are the helo's up?"

He nodded and gestured towards the radar screen of the command room. "Yes, ma'am, two, and we are within range for combat."

"Get the new MODS system online and fire the first salvo of missiles. Let's keep them out of close combat range and sink them with the first strike."

***************

Tenb, Loyalist HQ

Tirrew smiled at the young lady tightly and gesutred to General Nuhmi. "Ah, if you'll excuse me, Your..." he glanced at her new uniform and shurgged, "Excellency, I must discuss this privately for a moment. It should only take a few seconds."

Still holding the message, he tugged on Nuhmi's uniform and they both entered a small, back office. Tirrew shut the door carefully before turning the Nuhmi. "The fuck?!?" he mouthed, throwing both messages onto the card table. He didn't like cursing, but this situation seeemd to call for it. First, Tre seemed to be scared and losing, which never happened. Tre never lost, which these allies didn't seem to understand. Then, the allies see Tre running, and ask if Lindim has nuclear weapons. From the look in the general's eyes, Tirrew guessed Nuhmi was having the same thoughts.

Nuhmi sighed and took of his reading glasses. "First, we have to ask ourselves what these allies want. They seem to be throwing themselves into this, and for what? Money? Only the corporations have money in Lindim. Military assistance? Our military won't be combat ready for months, at the very least, after this!"

Tirrew shook his head and rubbed his eyes wearily. "They think we have nuclear weapons? We have none! At all! There are no nuclear weapons in this country, and even Tre couldn't have acquired one without us knowing! We have ICBM's but no warheads! What do they want? And what is going on with Tre?"

Nuhmi shrugged and gestured to the door. "You're gonna have to make a reply soon."

Tirrew nodded and took a deep breath. Then he swung open the door and smiled at the young ambassador. "We are as shocked by the implications as you are, but we are open to any possibilities." He nodded at Nuhmi, who sent for an aide to retrieve a file of what the Azazians requested. The aide returned quickly, carrying a stack of thick folders filled with highly classified intelligence. "These are the ICBM sites we have, the nuclear reactors in the country, and the details concerning the destruction of all the warheads fifty years ago. Anything else you request will be granted. We cannot concieve what Tre is planning."

Suddenly Nuhmi grabbed Tirrew's arm and looked at him with an horrified expression. "Prime Minister! The former colony of Lindimn! Lindimn still may have..."

Tirrew's face went pale.

OOC: You can RP the ensuing conversation, search for the nation "Lindimn" and you will see a former colony of Lindim's that is now a peaceful, quiet little country. With nuclear weapons, though they wouldn't dream of using them.

Loyalist Headquarters
Tenb, Lindim

Ramsey watched Tirrew’s face grow pale. “Still may have, what, sir?”

Nuhmi, with his military training more capable of acting when in shock replied for Tirrew, “May still have nuclear weapons…”

Ramsey nodded, and then felt a slight tickle in her leg. “If you will excuse me gentlemen, I am receiving a phone call.” She smiled and stepped to the side, listening intently to the conversation, and then Tirrew could watch Ramsey’s previously warm smile grow cold with dread. She nodded again into the phone out of pure instinct, since the phone couldn’t show her nodding. Then she rejoined the interim PM.

“Mr. Tirrew. The Commonwealth has just been attacked with a nuclear weapon in the range of 100 kilotons in our port city of Carthage. Home to over 600 thousand Commonwealth citizens. As of this moment, Commonwealth forces are operating in a mode that allows local commanders to authorize nuclear weapons launch. This may be temporary, it depends on what the coming hours allow us to discover. I’ve been briefed about your nation’s abhorrence of nuclear weapons – and I’ve recommended to Admiral Atkinson to use nuclear weapons as a last resort, but he does now have the capability of using them at his discretion. I suggest, Mr. Interim Prime Minister, that we move quickly to this former colony and find out what may have happened to these nuclear weapons. For my country’s sake. And yours.

Admiralty of the Royal Navy
Breningrad, Commonwealth Republic of West Oceania

Leary sat in his office, too much on his mind. Just a half hour ago, the entire complex had been sealed tight. With the attack on Carthage, everyone in the Commonwealth was distracted and saddened, understandably so, but Leary still had a job to do. Running the Royal Navy. The attack had some consequences that Leary did not particularly find pleasing. First among them would be the chaos of the carrier and cruiser groups that had been docked in ports of the Commonwealth. Per standard operating procedure they were setting sail as soon as humanly possible. If things calmed down, they could return and continue to refuel and rearm and the sailors and aviators could take whatever sort of R&R they could given the new order of things.

His computer blipped, Leary took a sip of his tea and double clicked on the new e-mail message. Probably more status reports on the varying ships in the Navy. But no, this was not that, it was different. It was a reply from his message to that Lindimese admiral. Personally, he didn’t care for the man anymore. Proof was still not available yet, but it was more than expected that the attack had come from Sero’s superior, and as an officer of that superior, he was to be held partly accountable for this crime.

He read Sero’s message. So he wouldn’t surrender the fleet. Leary could live with that, so long as they held to that truce. If they didn’t… Leary would personally order a nuke to blow that fleet out of the water. No more gloves. It had been the damn Lindimese that had insisted they had no bloody nukes. But look at Carthage. The first casualty reports were indicating upwards of 300 thousand people dead within the next few weeks.

Leary typed up a quick response to his counterpart.


Former Admiral Sero,

I hope you understand my brief response, since your leader’s cowardly nuclear attack on one of my cities currently is eating up most of my time. 300 thousand people are presumed dead within the coming weeks. I will agree to your terms.

A single helicopter will land on your carrier and take you into the custody of the Commonwealth Royal Navy. You will then be transferred to one of our carriers whereupon you will be taken to the Commonwealth to be held as a prisoner of war accused of heinous crimes against the Commonwealth in accordance to your part in a war that had your side launch a nuclear weapon upon the Commonwealth.

We will not, however, hold any member of your fleet or Marines as prisoners of war unless they decide to take it upon themselves to break this agreement, at which point we will react accordingly. I would advise you to urge your men and women against such actions as my sailors and aviators are most assuredly looking for Lindimese blood after today’s attack. They will control themselves on my order, however. You have my word on that.

Expect a helicopter within the hour.

Fleet Admiral of the Commonwealth Royal Navy, Sir Lord Colin Leary

The Jungle
Booni Island, Lindim

Franklin nodded to his men, “Proceed on the flanking maneuver, I will go make contact with Major Thompson. You have your orders, move out.” After dismissing his men, Franklin moved over to Thompson, “Major, these are our plans (plans from above post is rehashed). I already have my men moving into flanking positions. I expect that within the half-hour the entire northern outpost will be under our control. Shortly thereafter, we will move upon the main compound.”

Several meters ahead of Franklin, Thompson, and Uyse Sergeant Colair moved ahead of Privates Beck and Holiday. To his left, on the other side of the jungle, three other men were moving along in a position to take care of any guards. They moved quietly, now with helmets on their HUDs fed them data on the ground terrain as it came up as well as data on local thermal variations. After fifteen minutes of careful maneuvering the two teams were on the flanks of the observation tower and the forward machine gun nests. Colair lined up a shot through a gap in the trees to target the support structure of the obersvation tower. He clicked a button on the side of his helmet, opening a secure commlink between the Royal Marines, “Delta Spear to Delta leader, in position. Delta Two, are you in position?”

Colair listened for a reply, “Affirmative Delta Spear, targets located and in sights. Waiting for your command.”

Colair nodded to Beck and Holiday, who each took separate targets at the machine gun posts and lined up their shots. Colair flipped up the targeting screen on his light-rocket launcher and confirmed the target. All was set. He set his finger on the trigger, and pulled. A guided rocket shot from the small tube targeting the observation tower, Colair smiled, “Delta Team, go.”

Sergeant Etron heard the familiar whoosh of a rocket followed by several cracks in quick succession. He saw the observation tower’s support beams shatter on impact, and he followed the dim white smoke back to a point hidden in the jungle, and pulled the trigger on his MG.

Within seconds of loosing the first rocket, Colair ducked behind a tree and pulled out his remaining shot. On first glance it looked as if one rocket would doom the tower, but he couldn’t be sure until the smoke cleared, and it was better safe than sorry. Suddenly he heard the familiar thuds, cracks, and whizzes associated with a machine gun. “Beck, Holiday, you two hit your targets?”

“Affirmative,” Beck replied, “two shots, two kills. But Holiday’s been hit, he’s down, but he’ll be fine, just out for a while.”

“Roger, Delta Two, your situation?”

Corporal Rogov stared through the site of his light-rocket launcher. Colair assigned him as backup, to take out any secondary targets of high-importance should they randomly appear. And somehow, they had missed the damn Hummer. And sure enough, it had opened fire on Colair’s position. “Sir, have the MG in sights. Hold.” Rogov pulled his trigger.

Etron barely heard through the din of his MG bursts the second whoosh. He knew instantly its target and attempted to jump out of the vehicle, the next thing he knew was bright light and intense heat as his world strangely went dark in the midst of such bright light.

Colair didn’t need his thermal vision on to see the explosion, but it recorded the whites anyway. Then he heard a stoic response from Rogov, “MG neutralized.” Colair unslung the sniper rifle from his back and proceeded to find targets in the outpost. It was quite easy, actually. Many of the men off-duty had poured out of their barracks into a field of crossfire, Between the four snipers, Colair could count near two dozen bodies. The 14.5mm rounds were surely ripping the Lindimese to pieces. However, it wasn’t long before some half-smart fool rallied an effective defense, hiding his men behind downed trees and termite mounds. Of course, in the pitch dark, against snipers, it was almost impossible to take out Colair’s men. But they tried.

Colair saw through the side of his scope a soldier duck behind a fallen trunk, he waited a minute until the man threw up a periscope. He let this go, and when that fell down and the head came up with the rifle pointing in his general direction, he placed a bullet square between the man’s eyes. One more down. Then, he heard a scream over the intercom. “It sounded like Mendez, “Delta Two, status?”

“Mendez is down, sir. Some punk must have seen the muzzle flash and took aim. Mendez is down, sir. But so is the punk.”

“Delta Team, enemy is aware of our locations. Fade and recycle positions.” Colair switched off the transmit, and swore to himself. Clever bastards had organized sooner than he had anticipated. He had underestimated his enemy. He wouldn’t make that same mistake again. The surviving members of Delta team were moving further south towards the rear of the outpost, so as to now once again flank those surviving Lindimese Marines. In minutes, the Marines would be facing empty jungle, shooting blindly.

Colair finally reached a small hill, quite advantageous, really, and picked off the two men guarding it, obviously the Lindimese had realized it’s tactical importance, but now it belonged to Colair. The rest of his men radioed they were ready once again, and on Colair’s order they opened fire all at once, from four different vectors. After eight more shots, Colair and the rest of the Delta team saw no one left alive outside the buildings. Now it was the Pacificans turn to take the outpost itself.

“Delta Spear to Delta Leader, primary goal achieved. Send in Epsilon Force (Pacificans). Perimeter is secure. Oh yeah, and tell that Linit we expect some drinks on the house when this is all over.”

HMS Yorke
Port of Tenb, Lindim

Atkinson stood quiet in the ship’s command center. Damn Socialists. Unlike some elements of the crew, he realized that it wasn’t the Loyalists, it wasn’t all of the Lindimese, it was a select few. But either way, the whole crew wanted blood. More blood than had been spilled in their previous battle. Fortunately, he had received word from Lord Leary that the Lindimese Socialist fleet commander was going to surrender, and it was Yorke’s ship that was to dispatch a helicopter.

“This is Vengeance One, requesting permission to take-off.” Atkinson listened to the exchange between flight control and the helo, wishing in part that it would change its call sign, but he knew that wouldn’t happen.

“Vengeance One, this is Command, you have permission to take-off.”

L.V.S. Lujii Stei
Lindimese Waters

Paul Lincolnshire guided his helicopter towards the Lindimese carrier. He secretly wanted to drop a bomb right here on this damn carrier and kill thousands, his family lived in Carthage and he hadn’t received word – no one had yet. But Atkinson thought it best to keep his mind occupied by flying this mission, and then he’d be closer to home by flying this bastard admiral back to the Commonwealth. His radar link with the satellite above and the radar bird further back read the enemy carrier on the maximum range of his flight radar.

“Lindim Carrier, this is Commonwealth Flight 001 requesting permission to land. Repeat, Lindim Carrier, this is Commonwealth Flight 001 requesting permission to land. Over.”

Lincolnshire continued his approach, wishing that he had a nuclear bomb onboard this helicopter.

OOC: Pacific, you have missed quite a bit...

IC: Sero's hands trembled as he stared at the T.V. She did... she did not! We had agreed to certain protocols and she... that... woman! He slumped foward onto the desk and forced himself to calm down.

His pulse and countenance was back to normal when his aide entered the room, slightly paler than usual, and saluted. "Admiral, a helicopter requests permission to land. It's... it's Azazian, sir."

Sero nodded and stood up, carefully smoothing out his uniform and brushing the dust off it. He was entering his well-deserved death, but he might as well go like a Lindimese officer. And his crew would be saved. But as he looked at the blade that reseted in his cabin, he flet something snap in his mind. Not a snap of sanity, or the lack thereof, but one of a decision. Maybe one he would regret. Or maybe he wouldn't live to regret it. "Tell the helicopter it may land, and I will be out there presently."

He left his office and after the long, oppresively quiet walk out to the deck, e turned to the aide, who was departing towards the radio room, and called out to her. "And tell the pilot to tell his superiors that I... I know where Tre is. I know where she is."

L.V.S. Lujii Stei
Lindimese Waters

Lincolnshire thanked the Lindimese operator for his helpfulness and waited for this admiral. In the meantime he sent off a quick message to the Yorke.

To Command: Cargo Has Intel Of Urgent Nature. Orders.

Lincolnshire lifted his HUD visor and stared out at the carrier, glad he didn’t have to face it in battle. Sort of. He’d still love to bomb it to hell several times over. The communications screen flashed with a secure transmission, a response.

To Commonwealth 001: Command Wants Intel Onsite.

Lincolnshire smiled, he still might get his vengeance after all. He watched as the Lindimese officer boarded. “Sir, Flight Lieutenant Paul Lincolnshire, welcome aboard the Helicopter 052 of His Majesty’s Ship Yorke, our new destination will not be the Commonwealth proper, but instead the HMS Yorke, it seems that my commanders want that information you have very much.”

He didn’t really care to listen to what the officer said in return, so whatever he did say, he tuned out (ooc: unless it’s important, but for now it’s just like that to move story along). “Lindim Carrier, this is Commonwealth 001 requesting permission for departure.”

Once he had his permission, Lincolnshire took off at full speed, soon escorted by a flight of Commonwealth fighters. Once back on the Yorke he smiled, he loved flying, but he’d rather see revenge served cold.

Atkinson stepped out onto the deck and held tightly onto his cap to protect it from the rotorwash. He had decided to dress his best, black uniform with hilted sword on his belt. “I am Admiral Sir Charles Atkinson of the Commonwealth Royal Navy, welcome aboard His Majesty’s Ship Yorke. As I’m sure you can imagine, you have some information that I am most pressed to hear. Please, follow me to the Conference Room.”

HMS Yorke

Admiral Sero held himself stiffly and did not move a muscle on his face except to form the words "Thank you, Admiral" and to nod respectfully. He could feel the justified stare of the pilot from behind him, and he did not miss the formal dress of the Azazian that matched his in formality, if not in color and design.

Walking briskly behind the Admiral to the conference room, he tought of the men and women back at the fleet. Had he just signed their death warrants? Or had Tre? And what was she planning? His thoughts carried him to the conference room, and he was suddenly aware he sat across from the Azazian admiral, who had another man of some rank Sero couldn't identify behind him. The door was locked shut.

Sero compsoed his thoughts into a single, concise sentence. "Admiral, I know where Tre is. The Lindimese fishing village of Sed. But I do not know what she is planning."

Sed

Tre raised her eyebrows at the news of Sero's surrender. The entire village around had erupted into celebration, along with the rapidly spreading rumors of Tre's death at the hands of Linits. That amused her, but Sero's surrender concerned her. He was her one weak link, and it appears he had broken. She would depart soon enough.

"Colonel," she said to the Special Forces soldier behind her, "go find a Humvee. We may have to move, and quickly." The soldier saluted and exited her hut quietly.

OOC: not my fault, it happened over the course of a few hours

PNN Evergreen
Captain Farway was alerted immediately when the ship, clearly enemy, came within weapons range. He had never dueled with an opposing ship one-on-one before, he had always had a fleet, or at least a unit, around him. And a higher-ranking officer to tell him what to do. But he had none of that now... no, here it would be a game of luck and skill, and death, most certainly, on both sides.
"Tactical, I want 10 strategic cruise missiles fired at that ship, and 10 more readied in their tubes. Also, bring the tactical missile launchers online. Helm, put us on an intercept course, full speed. As soon as we are in firing range, get our two 6"-ers working on that hull of theirs. XO, make sure the JOCIWS are ready to respond to any retaliatory strikes... they're not going to be happy when we ruin their day."
"Aye, sir" came the shouts from the respective officers, moving to do what they had been instructed to.
"Missiles ready, Captain!"
"Fire missiles, tactical, shoot to kill."

Pacific Northwesterian Fleet, outside Tenb
"They did what?!" shouted Commodore Fortino. "They nuked the Azazians? This could be bad. Comm, send an urgent message to naval command, get the anti ballistic missile systems up and running. First the Azazians, next us, is what I fear."
"Aye, Commodore. Commodore, you have a message coming in, from a Captain Farway, Sir"
"Let me have it."
Fortino read through the report. Enemy destroyer engaged, request immediate backup, will try to take her down. This didn't make any sense. The Azazians had informed him that there was a cease-fire, and for the Socialists to break that promise would mean almost certain death for Sero and his men. It didn't make any sense... but then again, he had learned that one does not predict the actions of an intelligence officer.
"Comm, tell the rest of the rearguard, except for three frigates for ASW, to converge on the rogue destroyer. If this is just the start of a planned attack, we need to be sure to be there in force."

The Jungle, Booni Island, Lindim

Thompson was approached by Franklin, an Azazian special forces soldier of some sort who seemed friendly enough. As he layed out the battle plans, Thompson began to notice that his forces had been given the dangerous but unheroic task of securing a building that has already been subdued. The only threat would be hiding enemy soldiers, and those would be difficult to deal with even given their training. Oh well, they were there to help Lindim, not to receive recognition.
Thompson also received word from the Linit: all of the equipment might be necessary. Good thing he had erred on the side of safety and brought it all along. Thompson and his men gathered behind the front lines of the fierce firefight that was developing, and took a couple of minutes of badly needed rest. Equipment was unpacked and readied, and the men gathered themselves for the final assault.
Finally, Thompson got the word. "Epsilon Force, go!"
At that signal, Thompson motioned to his men. Covered by Azazian snipers, and their own, the special ops moved in and formed a perimeter around the building. The remaining defenders didn't have a chance... the Azazian snipers were too plentiful and too good. Just for good measure, in case a large resisting group emerged, there were strategically placed .50 cal HMGs surrounding the building. Once the special ops had secured the building at the corners, special ops soldiers began to storm the building itself.
"Go!" shouted the commander, and the door was blown apart, Pacifican rifles at the ready. room by room the building was cleared, finding only minor resistance. Just when Sergeant Stevens, in charge of the assault force, thought that the building had been secured, he heard rapid footsteps above him. That couldn't be right... he was on the top floor. He had no troops higher up. Suddenly, it dawned on him. "Stevens to epsilon leader, advise watching for any windows from an attic, suspected socialist marine forces fleeing upwards."
He followed the sound, until he found the trap door in the ceiling. He put down his rifle, and took out his pistol. It would be much more effective in such close quarters. He opened the door, and to his dismay, it creaked. He dove out of the way, just as a hail of heavy caliber fire perforated the wall where he had just been standing. In the darkness of the attic, he had to go by sound, and so did his opponent. Stevens found his way to the outside wall, and moved as silently as possible around the perimeter. Suddenly, gunfire erupted to the side of him. Blood sprayed everywhere, his leg torn by the enemy bullets, and he fell to his knees. As he fell, his pistol whipped around, and he fired five shots at the source of the gunfire. On the first, fourth and fifth he heard the familiar sound of bullet entering flesh. With a thud, the enemy fell to the ground. Suddenly, another sound was heard, from the direction of the door. Stevens's pistol was raised again, his hand shaking, until he recognized the familiar uniform of Pacific Northwesteria special ops. He passed out, unaware of the fact that he was being treated. He had lost a lot of blood, but nothing absolutely vital had been hit. It appeared he would make it, but he would need medevac asap. That wouldn't be possible at this point, with enemy aircraft in the area and the necessity of secrecy. They'd have to solve this Tre problem, and they'd have to solve it fast.

Conference Room
HMS Yorke

Upon hearing Sero mention Sed, Atkinson snapped his fingers. Everything had been set in motion already and he had merely been awaiting a target. Commader Kenneth Cole nodded and after exiting the room dashed to the Communications Room. Out of breath he merely had two words to deliver, "Sed, Lindim." he breathed before stopping to catch his breath.

HMS Excelsior
Earth Orbit

The data had been transferred to the navigation computers and input into the data pads of the Royal Space Marines on station. For hours they had been placed at ready adjacent to their drop pods for immediate departure. Within a minute, the 36 men climbed into their vehicles and began their descent. Unlike the Marines in the Booni Jungle, these men were descending in something that looked like nothing more than an egg with heat shielding. However, maneuvering thrusters they would be dropped onto the scene in less than three minutes.

At the same time Captain Yuri Askov stood on the bridge of the Excelsior, he listened to the report from the communications officer. The target had been input into the weapons computer. “Fire cluster.” From the Earth-side of the station ten missiles roared to life descending upon the area around Sed. Timed to arrive before the Marines, Emperor Barin had especially ordered these missiles to contain non-nuclear warheads. Although the intended effect was the same. An electromagnetic pulse warhead would detonate in each of the ten warheads carried by each missile. With ten missiles descending, a total of 100 electromagnetic pulses would fry all electronics operating within 200 miles of Sed. Any means of escape that Tre had intended on using would become inoperable. And the Marines would be there to take her out.

Andaman and Nicobar Islands Airspace

The small helicopter took off at maximum speed all electronic systems turned off. One of the new stealth helicopters operating at the airbase, the pilot had been warned to stay out of the EMP blast, but once detonated, to move in at full speed to assist the Marines. In addition, in several minutes, fighters and attack aircraft would be taking off to saturate the area around Sed with carpet bombing.

Skies Above Sed

Five minutes after Sero had told Atkinson the name of this place, the three little letters, one hundred bright flashes appeared in the skies over the fishing village. Seconds later a pulse slammed through the atmosphere and the ground into an area with a radius of 200 miles. Electrical circuits exploded, including one unfortunate Commonwealth reconnaissance flight that had been unknowingly trapped in the blast zone. The small aircraft’s circuitry tore the cockpit to pieces in flashes and lights, and then plummeted to the ocean below, the pilot long since dead when the computerized sights in his helmet exploded into his skull.

Two minutes later, the 36 Royal Marines landed in a loose circle around the town of Sed. Lieutenant Vladimir Velchenko unpacked his rifle and chambered the first round before speaking into the helmet communications device, “Men, we’ve got a bitch to hunt.”

OOC: I know, I was commenting on the fact that in a few hours the storyline had turned around. I'm not blaming you.

Also, nice post.

And Azazia, I suppose Tre forgot she was dealing with post-modern. Let's see her escape. Or try to. This could be weird. Also, an EMP blast would not blow up circuits, per se, but simply fry them and render them useless.

Forty kilometers outside of Sed

Tre was impressed, as the engine on the car died and sputtered to a halt, and the flashes overhead died out. She hadn't expected such a quick response. For the first time in her life, she had underestimated the enemy. It would make escaping trickier, but not impossible. There was too much land for anyone to cover so fast. Or water.

She hopped out of the truck and nodded towards the Special Forces soldiers. "The plan will not be abandoned. Surrender to any soldiers upon your capture, and do not resist." They saluted her wordlessly and sat back in the truck, one of them pulling out a cigerette and lighting it, a habit Tre found oddly foreign. She grabbed a vial of serum she had with her and walked through a bush of trees to the edge of a rocky cliff, down to the Lindimese waters. With one last look at land, she took a deep breath and dived in the waters, forty feet below.

L.S.S. Nioly

Lisle looked at the radar screen. "Fire ten cruisers against that ship," she shouted just before the ships defence systems sprang to life against the cruise missiles. Involuntarily, Lisle squeezed her eyes shut and counted to five. She heard nothing beyond the shouts of the sailors and by the time she reached four, she almost dared herself to believe the MODS systems had worked perfectly, when an explosion rang in her ear and she felt the floor beneath her tremble.

"Damage at the stern, taking in water!"

"Compartments are sealing!"

"Fires on third! No damage to weapon systems!"

"Ready ten more missiles," cried Lisle, "and bring the ship on a 45 degree angle to them, at twenty knots!"

Booni Jungle

The Linits, judging by the dearth of gunfire, immediately emerged from the jungle and began treating wounds on the soldiers they could find. Uyse shook her head and walked over towards Franklin and Thompson, who had suffered no injuries. "The Linits will help to treat your men, but we need to move as soon as possible. Tre has probably long disappeared by now, but Fuego may still live." Wow, aren't compassionate? I'll give them no more than an hour.

Meanwhile, a Linit named Kara worked her way over to a particulary bad case, a Pacific boy who had gone pale and didn't seem to be in workable condition. She crouched down by her side and handed an IV bag of O- artificial blood to the medic quietly before standing up and moving on. She didn't know how, or why Uyse seemed to have everything and anything in that myseterious satchel of hers, but she may have just saved a life. Kara smiled. Uyse would like to think that.

Anonymous transmission to Azazian Admiral Atkinson

We are aware you have launched EMP blasts in Lindimese airspace. However, as you are searching for Tre, we may forgive that, as they are not full nuclear blasts. However, we request that if you do, somehow capture Tre alive, you will not turn her over to the Lindimese government, but to the Linits, who are no longer associated with them.

There will be no need for you to duplicate or mention this message.

With Honesty,
Ejal

Near Sed

Ejal hit the ground running as the helicopter above her rose back up into the air and flew away. The Azazians had dropped men here, and they were searching for Tre. But Ejal planned on finding her first. She rank into the trees the ran alongside the edge of the road abd began moving quietly through them, looking around with the utmost care.

ooc: i know they don't blow up, it just works more for... purposes of artistic license

Outside of Sed, Lindim

Velchenko glanced about the jungle, he heard nothing but nature, which meant that the EMPs had done their job, and now Tre was trapped. “Gentlemen, begin search pattern Bravo. Yalu flight, this is Yalu ground, keep perimeter check on the ocean and the air. Although I doubt she’s flying out, primitive boats could be a possibility.

“Roger, Yalu ground.”

Velchenko nodded and proceeded to move through the forest, looking through his array of sensor inputs scanning for any sort of thermal anomaly. More than likely elite units were guarding this bitch, and in that sense, he had the advantage. Any sort of sensors they might have had would be gone, he still had all his technology. Of course, it came down to how one uses that information, but it definitely helped having that information.

A quick search of Sed provided nothing except for tire tracks, apparently she had attempted to escape. Damnit, she had better not have made it. He followed the tire marks until he saw in the distance an abandoned truck and a group of soldiers, apparently ready to surrender. He moved into the foliage and approached them from their flank, radioing in for his nearest comrade to approach from the other direction. When he, and another Marine who had come in to assist as well, were all in position Velchenko stepped out in his full black armor and helmet.

“Gentlemen, I am Lieutenant Vladimir Velchenko of the Commonwealth of Azazia Royal Star Marines. We are searching for your leader Tre, we know she was in this area, we know she was in that truck of yours. All we want to know is where she went. No harm will come to you.”

The Jungle
Booni Island, Lindim

Lieutenant Franklin gazed at the smoldering remains of the observation post. With a half-sincere glance he looked back at the wounded. One Royal Marine dead. Unacceptable. “Sergeant Colair,” he called to the soldier standing within earshot, the young soldier walked over to the officer, “What the hell happened out there? There were to be no casualties. Was I not clear?”

“Sir, yes sir. However, sir, there was an unknown hostile vehicle that divided our attention. In light of the distraction, we could not focus concentrated fire and an uncovered Lindimese Marine managed to fire on the private’s muzzle flash.”

“I do not want to hear excuses, sergeant. Next time, there will be no casualties, or else you can add yourself to the list. Am I understood?”

“Sir, yes sir.” Colair did not salute as standard practice in combat zones, but merely nodded to him, Thompson, and Uyse. Then moved out barking orders to his men. Franklin watched the young man go off and then hoisted his own rifle.

“Major, Uyse, I apologize for the casualty, it was unanticipated and will not happen again if my men do their jobs properly. However, the more time we waste here, the less time your PM has to live. We know that several people abandoned the facility a short while ago, unfortunately my runners were too far north to accomplish anything but light recon work on the compound. It appears heavily fortified, and I would doubt that this outpost was meant as anything more than a fortification to cause injuries and slow down our movement. No offense, Major Thompson, but I suggest that for now we abandon your man and press forward.

“I will send my Marines forward as scouts, satellites detect nothing significant from here until the compound, at which point my men will perform recon and then Major we will briefly discuss an action plan. You have the more men, you will take the compound, I will secure the perimeter, an Uyse, you will rescue Fuego or retrieve her corpse. Personally, at this point, I’d expect a corpse.” Franklin moved off without leaving word for comment and found Colair critiquing the unit on its sloppy performance.

“Sergeant, you will lead Rogov, Beck, Holiday, Fife, and Harper forward until you reach the perimeter of the compound. Expect light resistance en route, nothing more than a few strays. When you’ve reached the objective, secure the outer perimeter and provide recon on the actual perimeter. When the outer perimeter is clear, Rogov, you will stay behind and call the rest of us in. When we all arrive, sergeant, I expect you back with Rogov to provide a brief analysis of what the compound has in terms of guards, gun emplacements, vehicles, terrain, et cetera. I want everything Colair, I want no foul-ups this time. Am I understood?”

“Sir yes sir.” Colair nodded and formed the five others up behind him and took point on the approach to the compound.

(ooc: Lindim, I’d appreciate any info that my forces could gather on the compound in terms of what Franklin said, thanks)

OOC: I will have a post up later with a map of the facility.

PNN Evergreen
The bridge officers clapped with excitement as the missile slammed into the enemy vessel. A few seconds later, the celebrations were interrupted by a cry from the RADAR operator. "We've got incoming! 8-11 cruise missiles en route!"

"Damn," Farway swore to himself. "We must not have detected the launch, because it was masked by the explosion." Then, to the bridge as a whole, "I want to be able to..." "Captain! Change of course, sir. They came 45° to port, and accelerated to 20 knots." "Thank you, RADAR. Helm, maintain course, go to 35 knots. I want to get within gun range, and no dodging maneuver is going to prevent that. As I was saying, I want to be able to..."

This time, his sentence was cut short by the arrival of the cruise missiles. "Damnit!" he shouted, over the roar of the missile defense systems. First to fire were the MLS missile systems, roaring towards the missiles. "Hard to starboard!" Shouted Farway, bringing more of the anti-missile systems to bear without swiss-cheesing the bridge. RADAR called off the missiles as they were hit, a total of 4 were destroyed before the 40mm millenium guns sprang to life. The fire control systems worked overtime, firing missiles at the remaining missiles that weren't being targetted by the cannons. "ETA 5 seconds... 4... 3..." four more had been destroyed "2..." the missiles were now out of range, "1..." visual contact was made on the two remaining missiles, heading straight for the ship. At the last possible instant, 40mm rounds penetrated one of the missiles, exploding it in midair. The other missile had seemed to penetrate the defensive systems, but at the last second, a 40mm came to life a nicked it, sending it into a death spiral. Farway was just about to start his sentence again, when an explosion rocked the ship. "Damn!..age report!"

"The missile was knocked off course, but still hit the bow! Speed is down to 30 knots, there is slight damage in the area but it is under control, and it appears that our 6" is out."

"Damn!" Shouted Farway. "That was our biggest advantage! Now we'll have to use the aft gun, which won't have a line of sight if we're going right for them. Helm, I want you to compute a slightly unorthodox course. Assuming our speed stays the same, and their speed and heading stays the same, I want you to plot a course that brings us parallel to theirs, within gun range. And do it as quickly as possible."

"Aye, Captain" said the helmsman, who estimated quickly in his head and changed course accordingly until he could figure out the exact course. Luckily, he still remembered his calculus.

"As I was saying," started Captain Farway, "I want to be able to retaliate NOW. Tactical, fire 10 more strategic cruisers, and follow it up with 15 tactical cruisers, as we should be in range momentarily."

"Aye, Captain."

The ten strategic cruise missiles roared from their cells, and were followed 30 seconds later by the tactical missiles.
"This is what you get for damaging my ship, bitch." Farway thought to himself.

Booni Jungle

"Lieutenant... Franklin, is it?" Responded Major Thompson. "There is no need to apologize to me for a casualty. I can't speak for Uyse here," he nodded to the Linit, "but as far as I'm concerned a casualty among my ranks is a great sorrow, not an embarrassment. Tend to the body, Lieutenant, see that the people of Azazia and the people of Lindim know what he gave his life for. His life ended because of a lucky shot, and because of an unfortunate error, something that nobody could have foreseen. This is a time for sorrow and for vengeance, not a time for apology, or blame, or self doubt. Soon, we will assault a larger compound, much more heavily fortified, the Concord, not the Lexington. More people will die, probably from my command. We train as well as we are able to avoid as many casualties as we are able, but there is some point where no amount of training will save you. But we're going in, because you don't sign up for the special ops because you're afraid to die."

"Also, Lieutenant," Thompson continued, "I have some questions and comments on the next phase of the battle. These are questions for you too, Uyse. First of all, I would suggest that we continue to suffer the burden of our heavy weapons, as this next target may require some heavy fire support. It is the one thing that most special ops units are lacking, for the sake of precision and the assumption of secrecy.

We can no longer make that assumption, as surely Tre has been notified of our strike here. They will be ready, and they will be waiting, finding the best hidden, most concealed firing positions available. A few .50 cals will keep their heads down, you can be sure of that. Also, with heat detection, enemies hiding behind things that offer no protection, only as a hiding place, can be found and eliminated by a good heavy machine gun. I would suggest that I leave some men on the perimeter with your recon forces, Franklin, equipped with our heavy equipment to provide covering fire. You can't storm into a building lugging a HMG, but you can make damn sure nobody storms out.

Secondly, I would like to honor the service of the Azazians in neutralizing most of the enemy in the previous attack, and I willingly accept that role on this strike.

Thirdly, how do we know that the PM is still in this facility? Or that she doesn't have a guard standing by, 24/7, whose only role is to put a bullet in her skull if they are attacked? I would suggest that the mission be covert until the last possible instant, so that such an assassin would be dead before he knew they were under attack. This will mean the help of the Linits, as it is their area of expertise. We'll be there for firepower in case things get ugly, and oh how they'll get ugly, but as Uyse knows well, a man with a slit neck can't sound the alarm. What do you think?"

OOC: http://www.freewebs.com/lindim/target_map.jpg

Booni Island Jungle

Uyse sighed and shifted her feet. "We don't know that the Prime Minister is still alive. But we do know that if she is, the Linits need to enter the secret compound in the shortest amount of time possible. Marines guard the outer perimeter, but inside the building are Lindimese Special Forces, that are very well-prepared and highly trained. The primary goal of this mission will be the speed. Forget everything else, we need to penetrate that building as fast as possible. The moment fighting begins on the inside of the target, the Linits will enter and make their way to the extended corridor. Once the Linits are inside, your men," she said, indicating the foreign soldiers, "may do as they please. There will be no need for an extraction."

L.S.S. Nioly

"Increase speed to thirty knots and move parallel to thier course!" Lisle shouted as the radar screen lit up with green flashes, twenty missiles overall approaching them. So they thought they could take on a Lindimese ship, then? "Launch another ten cruise missiles!"

Guns all over the ship sprang to life, ripping down missiles and nearly succeeded compltely until the second salvo hit, ripping into the stern of the ship and tearing apart several VLS.

"Engine damage, but speed is consistent!"

"Electronic systems are off down here!"

"Some VLSs are gone!"

The destroyer rocked, but did not pause for a second as it approached the other ship. Better ship then they have, I bet! Lisle grabbed the intercom and flicked it on. "We're in gun range, open up on them and fire off five tactical ship missiles!"

"Enemy appears to have sustained power damage!"

Lisle grinned.

Outside Sed

The Special Forces soldiers casually threw their guns to the ground and dropped all of the grenades and extra ammunition they carried. Unhooking their vests, one of the soldiers spat out his cigarette and grinned at the Azazians. "Would you believe me," he said, his brown eyes laughing, "if I told you the truth, that we don't know?"

The Jungle
Booni Island, Lindim

Colair returned to Rogov and smiled, though with his helmet on it was quite impossible to see. “Delta Spear to Delta Leader, Reconnaissance complete. Report 33 individuals outside the complex, primarily facing front entrance. Beck and Holiday remain at the rear.” Colair was glad the men were spaced out in small groups, far easier to kill. And the fact that they were mere Marines, meant the Pacificans would deal with the elite special forces units. However, the Lindimese on the perimeter enjoyed two distinct advantages, they outnumbered his own Royal Marines 3:1 and they had a building where they could retreat – granted it was to be taken by spec ops but still. Better fighting there than here.

Colair unslung the sniper rifle from his back, far more useful than his rifle at this point. However, he was down to a mere twelve rounds. The others had all been expended back at the outpost. But, he hoped this many would do. In total the Royal Marines would break into five units, each of two men plus Colair operating independently since Mendez had been KIA. It was a simple plan, there were three large gaps in the perimeter: One especially large one at the very rear, and then two more along the sides of the building. Beck and Holiday had been assigned to the rear, and once Delta Three and Four got into position, all would begin picking off individuals. With four shots per magazine, most of the small groups would quickly be down.

“Delta Three in position. Delta Four in position” came the voices over his comm system. He picked up his rifle and spotted a cluster of men standing in a box formation. They were the smartest of all the Marines on the field, but they’d be rapidly cut down. He sighted the leader of the four between his eyeballs. “Delta Spear to Delta Two, Three, and Four, go.

Far in the distance loud cracks poked holes in the cooing and cawing and roaring and chirping in the jungle. Sure enough, the men in Colair’s cluster became fidgety, he watched as one man went for a radio, probably calling to someone only to find they were dead or soon to be dead. At that point he heard shots from Rogov nearby himself. That meant that some small clusters were taking the bait and while moving to cover the rear were exposing their own rears and flanks. He heard four shots from Rogov’s direction. Then one more, “Delta Five Leader to Delta Spear, I win.”

Colair grunted, these four were only getting ready to dig in, apparently they thought otherwise. Soon, all the Delta teams were reporting targets eliminated. He was out of time. He silently complimented his target on standing firm and not having his unit collapse under fire, evidence of a good soldier. But all soldiers had to know that it was kill or be killed, and so Colair pulled the trigger. He watched as blood began to exit the rear of his head, but quickly switched to the man on his right, and placed one square in his face, looked like the nose. When that was a confirmed hit, he adjusted his aim up a slight bit to target the two standing behind that leader, and placed a round square through his neck, and then did the same to the fourth. It took mere seconds, they hadn’t really had a chance. He threw that leader a small salute and keyed his transmission switch. Epsilon Force, go. God speed.” They’d need it. Colair hated close combat.

Meanwhile Franklin smiled behind a .50 cal MG pointed directly at the entrance to the building. “Thompson, good luck in there. No one’s coming out but you.” He looked over to the other men of his command, taking a true defensive perimeter around the building, tighter than the Lindimese had because of the lack in manpower, but either way, Franklin was correct. No one was coming out and no was going in.

Outside Sed, Lindim
Velchenko nodded, and saw some foot prints leading into the bushes. “Jack, Stefan, check out that trail.” He looked back at his counterparts and with his rifle barrel moved all the weapons from the men to his side. “I do believe you, actually, which is why it’s a shame.” He nodded to the men around him who simply brought their rifles up to bare, bringing each a soldier into his scope. “You look like special forces troops, not your Marine forces. So you must know the rules of spec ops, no prisoners. Your death has become in the eyes of the Commonwealth, useless.” With that said he raised his rifle and shot the one who addressed him square in the face. All the other Marines followed suit.

Velchenko didn’t particularly like playing special operations, hell he was just a regular old Marine, but times had changed, and his superiors wanted blood. And a head. “Jack, Stefan, what’d you two find?”

“Not much, the trail ends in a cliff, towards the ocean.”

“Yalu flight, make damned sure you cover that ocean, anything sticks its bloody head up, I want you on it like nothing else.”

PNN Evergreen
"Tactical, report!"
"They seem to have sustained a hit from our missile strike, Captain, but they aren't badly damaged. Light damage to the weapons systems, as far as I can tell. And... uh oh... we've got incoming."
"RADAR, how many and how fast?"
"Five or so, low trajectory, and ten coming in higher. And they're coming in fast!"
"What's our CIWS situation?"
"Missile systems partially depleted, cannons ready to go."
"Ok, try to..."
Just then, a shell from the enemy destroyer struck the armor of the Evergreen, luckily at the toughest spot in the armor. There was no serious damage, but the ship was sent rocking. The next time, they might not be so lucky.
"Dammit!" swore Farway. "Apparently we're in gun range. How is our fore gun?"
"Damage, sir. No way to tell if it will work or just explode."
"We'll have to leave it be, then... how is our aft gun?"
"Fully operational, Captain."
"Good, return fire with that gun, and also tactical cruise missiles. I'm done playing games. Launch 25 cruise missiles at that enemy destroyer. And get all the rest prepped in case they launch something we can't shoot down. That will be all."
"Aye, Captain."
The fifteen cruise missiles came in, and four of them were easily dealt with by the missile CIWS. Although it further depleted the number of missiles available, it prevented them from hitting the ship. The 11 remaining were coming in fast, closing quickly and overwhelming the cannon systems. The missiles and cannons kept firing, again and again, destroying missiles left and right. However, two missiles made it all the way through, disabling some of the VLS and knocking out communications until the backup systems came online.
"Casualty report!"
"We've got reports of 23 casualties, 7 of them fatal. Emergency bulkheads sealing off affected areas, and the damage seems to be contained.
"Tactical, also launch two torpedoes at that bastard destroyer. It may do nothing at this range, but if it gets through, it will give them more to think about."
"Aye, Captain."

Booni Jungle

Thompson approached Uyse. "So, what you're saying is, all we have to do is take out the marines on the outside? You don't want us going in with you? You should know by this point, Madame Linit, that we are devoted to this mission. Unless we would simply get in the way, we would be honored to fight at your side in the building. The extended corridor is all yours, but we would be willing to escort you directly to the entrance."

ooc: waiting for reply from Lindim before I RP entering the compound.

OOC: Sorry, you'll have to wait until around 7 PM, EST. I'll get a good post up then.

OOC: Oh, and Pacific, I launched ten cruise missiles and five tactical ship-to-ship missiles. The tacts were for distraction to your ship's defence systems.

ooc: my bad. see edit.

OOC: PN, you can RP the Lindimese SF, imagine them as American Delta Operators. Very well-trained.

Also, I hope you don't mind I let your soldiers not get her right away. Could I assume they would be hesitant to fire into a crowd of innocents?

Booni Jungle

Uyse drew her pistol out and checked the magazine. "No, we need you to enter the target building, but the secret corridor going down is ours, and ours alone." She looked up and smiled at him. "It's nothing personal, it's just something we have to do."

She turned to the building and sighed. "You can go in now, but that building is full of the thoughest soldiers Lindim has. "I don't believe in luck, but good-" A glint of light shone through a tinted window, and Uyse threw herself to the ground as a sharp twang rang out. "Sniper fire!" she called out to the other Linits, who were throwing themselves to the ground.

Outside Sed, in the waters, near The Booni Snack Shed and Stop

Tre's lungs burned, but she forced herself to stay under until she reached the the rocky undercove. Fire racing through all of her limbs, she finally reached the inlet and burst to the surface of the water, took a deep breathe, and dived back down under, working her way down the coast.

The Azazians were probably near, but they couldn't have reached where she was. Yet. Hopefully the dock was still there.

Yes. Swimming beneath the slow shade of the dock, Tre poked her head up above the water and looked out. Two Marines were in the trees, looking dangerously about, and a Linit lurked behind them, equally dangerous looking.

Above her, the rush and bustle of a small dock filled with sailboats and jetskis were undiminished, even by the civil war she had incited. Just as well. tre went back down and swam over to where a jetski was idling, its owner over at the snack bar. Three, two, one, all in the Tao.

Tre pulled herself out of the water and swung onto the jet ski, kicking on the gas and pulling out of the dock at the max speed.

L.S.S. Nioly

"Screws and cruisers, two and twenty-five!" The radar officer called out as the white streams of jets fired onto the destroyer.

Shit, that just might do it! Lisle grabbed the intercom and said, "Twenty cruise missiles return fire, ready ten more!" She had finished her last breath of the sentence when she ship shook and she saw explosions rip across the deck.

"Ma'am, heavy casualities in the engine room, turbines damaged!"

"We're taking in way too much water already!"

"Lead sonar malfunctioning!"

Lisle ran to the sonar. "The torpedos?"

The junior officer shook his head. "We think they are from the destroyer, but we got them out. Still, if they send another batch..."

Lisle nodded and turned around. "Let's send three torpedos their way!"

"We can only send one ma'am."

Lisle just glared at the ensign who spoke. "Then do it! And swing us round to move aft of their ship, and open up with more of the gun."

"Ma'am, we've got to get help, we're taking in way too much water, and power sources may be damaged. We've got to get to a port within an hour or two or we'll begin to sink!"

Lisle snarled. "Just do it!"

The Jungle
Booni Island

Franklin heard the rapport of the sniper fire and turned his borrowed MG to the shattered window, he pulled the trigger and let loose a stream of lead in the entirely edible range – for human bodies that is – of .50 caliber. With his other hand he switched on the transmission switch, “Ladies and gentlemen, this here is called cover fire. Git your bloody asses inside! Delta teams, recycle positions and take out any baddie you see inside the building!” Franklin merely contented himself to whistle an Azazian folk tune as round after round slammed into whatever was inside that shattered window, waiting for the Pacificans and the Linits to make for the building.

Outside Sed, Lindim

Velchenko made his way through the palms and ferns, swatting branches out of his way with his combat knife. “Alright, what do you two got for me?”

Corporal Stefan Tuilev pointed his rifle towards the sea below him, “The tracks end here, sir. She musta jumped into the water. Nowhere else to go, we already did a search of the trees around here. If you look that way,” again Tuilev waved his rifle in the direction, “you’ve got what looks to be some sort of marina. I’ve already radioed in to the bird, it’s got the area in its long-range scans now.”

Velchenko pushed his switch, “Yalu flight, this is Yalu ground. Shoot just in front of anything that moves in the ocean. Stop them all from moving. Understood?” he got the response he wanted and then looked at Tuilev and Jack Kinsey, “you two double-time it down to that marina and secure the perimeter. No one comes or goes from that place once you get there, and commandeer a boat. Nothing with electronics in it because we already fried it, but I want something fast. Go!”

Velchenko watched the two men dart off along the edge of the cliff running towards the marina, they’d be there in minutes thanks to the military training. He turned away from those two and back into the forest, “Jeffrey, go back to your pod and get a rope, then make your ass get over here double time, you’ve got some climbing to do. I want you down the side of this cliff here.”

Lisa Kline served in the Royal Air Force, a helicopter pilot. One of the few, most of the helo pilots belong to the Army, then the Navy, but the base here in the islands utilized some helos for long range light interdiction duties. Typical stealth one, she was armed with a 20mm chain gun in a pod beneath the nose of the aircraft, and two weapon pods on the inside of the craft, this time armed with two air-to-surface missile and two air-to-air missiles. Very light stuff. But it would serve very well for stopping these damn jet skis and sailboats. Odd though, there was one jet ski that was pulling away from the docks at a high velocity, very odd for marinas where speeds were reduced to prevent wake damage… that would be the first target. She nudged her helo to a slight dip and accelerated to a point in front of the jet ski, targeting the water a few meters ahead of it, and pulled the trigger for a short burst, sending two dozen 20mm shells into the water ahead of this suspicious little bugger.

ooc: Ok, just don't get impatient if I don't post for a while, seeing as how I have to pretty much RP the entire assault. I have school and stuff. I'll try to post during free periods. Also, could you give me some more detailed information on the Special Forces, so that I can RP them more realistically?

Booni Jungle

Major Thompson hit the deck, sniper fire pinging off of the trees. PN and Azazian snipers and special ops fired back, killing the sniper, but it set the tone for what was to follow. Every meter would be hard-fought, every hallway would be paid for in blood.
"Ok, Uyse" nodded the Major. "We'll follow your lead on this one. I suppose it's not my business why you must go alone down the corridor?"
"Perhaps I shall tell you later," responded the Linit, "but at this time I cannot."
"Very well, ma'am. We may as well get going. The more time we just sit here, the better their snipers will get."
Thompson and his men charged the building, finally reaching the walls of the compound, covered by their allies. With a smile and a nod to the Azazians, keeping the coast clear, they moved to the door. A private went to open it, when Thompson motioned quickly for him to stop. He pulled out a long piece of cord, and tied one end around the doorknob. He backed up about ten paces, and motioned his men to do likewise. Laying prone on the ground, gun raised, he pulled on the cord. The explosion rippled through the leaves of the jungle, blowing back the hair of the special ops on the ground.
Thompson and his men, suddenly wary, approached the now-smoldering entrance. Pulses raced as they entered the building, knowing that for the first time, they were up against people like themselves.

"Private, report!" shouted Colonel Ayne of the Lindimese Special Forces.
"Sir, they have breached the perimeter, killed all of the marines outside of the complex. They discovered the booby trap on the door, sir, and managed to detonate it from a distance, without harm to themselves."
"This is bad news, Private... this means they're competent. Well, passive defenses may not work against them, but let's see whether active ones will. Have our men set up kill zones here, here, and here," said the Colonel, pointing at a schematic of the building. "I want snipers in the ceiling ducts, and heavy machine guns covering every corner from behind cover. Get our men into the secret passageways, and get them ready to come out behind the enemy once their location is known. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Colonel," replied the Private, who saluted elegantly and left the room.

ooc: more on this later. I wouldn't get to bed before school starts tomorrow morning if I tried to finish it now.

PNN Evergreen

"Tactical, any success with that last volley?"
"It appears so, Captain, they seem to be heavily damaged, but... RADAR, double check what I'm seeing..."
"It's right, Lieutenant. RADAR is picking up twenty more cruise missiles inbound, and... what appears to be a lone torpedo, Captain."
"Damn them and their..."
A shell landed in the water near the ship, puncturing the hull below the water line.
Before she could even ask for a damage report, her attention was grabbed by the incoming missiles.
"Tactical, fire off missile CIWS at your discretion, if we don't survive this, we'll have no need for them."
"Aye, Captain."
"And fire off two more torpedoes, as well as another batch of 15 missiles."
"Aye, Captain."
"And one more thing... tell our gunner to give 'em hell with the 6"."
"With pleasure, Captain."
The last of the anti-missile missiles, save a few, were sent into the sky, seeking their deadly prey. Twelve of them were brought down before coming into cannon range, but the remaining eight were moving rapidly. There were missiles build to hit a ship before it had time to react. The four millenium guns worked quickly, downing five of them, but the remaining three made contact at various points throughout the ship. The members of the bridge crew were hurled willy-nilly across the bridge by the blast, as were crew men and women throughout the ship.
"Damage report!!!" shouted Farway, lip quivering and bleeding from a cut above his eyebrow.
"Sir, we've got 60 casualties, no, 63, at least 10 of them fatal. We're taking on water, one CIWS is down, the engines have taken a beating, and primary power is out throughout the ship. We've also got some VLS..."
"That's enough, Lieutenant. Did you get the missiles and torps off before we were hit?"
"You bet, sir. They do pay me for something, sir."
"Okay then. We'll just have to hope that it will be enough. We're in no condition to take another hit of any serious size. Comm, radio the fleet, tell them that we have taken heavy damage, but believe we may have defeated the enemy. And send a message to the enemy ship, if it's still there after our strike, and ask them to surrender. Much as I'd like to kill that bitch, I can't take a chance that one more lucky hit will blow us to all hell."
"Yes Captain."

OOC: Sorry. Okay, Lindimese Special Forces specialize in close quarters, urban combat, so they know how to work indoors in buildings, but not necessarily in the jungle.

They work in pairs, and they will be found in pairs but not in larger groups. They rarely talk as a tradition and do most of their communications in handsignals or random noises such as shutting doors.

They do use IEDs alot, so you were accurate there, and inside a building they will try to confuse and isolate any enemies.

They generally wear all-black combat uniforms with light Kevlar armour and modifiable assault rifles, similar to the M-4A1. All of them carry knives, a few carry pistols. They won't have heavy weapons, but they will have fragmentation grenades, smoke grenades, flash bangs, and other standard items.

Azazia and PN, I'll get a post up tomorrow.

OOC:
As this is a special operation, the defense of a building (as opposed to a rapid strike team) I think it would be possible for them to have a few heavy weapons, i.e. an HMG or two. Thanks for the other notes on them.

IC:

Booni Island Complex

Colonel Ayne was pacing in front of the entrance to The Corridor, the objective he had been instructed to defend at all costs. This was to serve as his command center. There are two places that a commander can never afford to have overrun: the objective and the command center. With his limited resources, it made sense to combine the two.
"Private!" he called to his aide, and unfortunate soul by the name of Roberts.
"Yes, Colonel?"
"I have worked out our counterattack plans."
"Excellent, Colonel"
"Clearly, our first line of defense will by the 'kill zones', but just in case they are penetrated, or they hold the enemy in place for a moment of time but do not defeat them, we will strike back, hard and fast."
"Brilliant, Colonel"
"Our teams will wait until they receive the signal from the defenders, and then burst out of their hiding places in the walls. They will follow ambush pattern epsilon. Some frag grenades can follow the initial rifle bursts, and then a quick retreat back into the tunnels, to pop out again at another time."
"Of course, Colonel, I shall inform our forces, Colonel."


Major Thompson and his men moved silently through the seemingly-abandoned building, followed closely by the Linits. Every few meters, he had to stop and disarm a mine, a claymore, and other various and cleverly made booby traps. Thompson began signalling to his men, saying roughly,
"Lewis, Svenson, cover our rear. There shouldn't be anything back there, but I want to make damn sure we don't get surprised."
"Will do, Major."
"The rest of us will fan out. The hallways seem to branch a little bit, and we have to maintain a continuous front. Any encounters will heavy resistence will be reported to me immediately, so that I can get a sense of their defensive structure." There was a murmur of approval from the assembled forces. The Linits looked scathingly at them for making sound.
"Let's go."
The four assault teams, labeled Alpha, Beta,Gamma, and Delta, moved forward, rifles extended. At the first fork in the road, Alpha and Beta went one way, while Gamma and Delta went the other.
"Sergeant Williams, you're in command of G and D," said Thompson, leading the first two himself.
Thompson led his troops down this new hallway, encountering light resistence and the occasional trap. Apparently, they figured that if we made it through the first few meters, we wouldn't be fooled by more, thought Thompson. They approached another intersecting hallway, eerily quiet. Thompson's IR display was picking up vague heat sigs, to either side of the T intersection, apparently waiting in ambush. Thompson snuck a quick look around the corner, and swore silently to himself. They had bloody machine guns. Armored. Machine. Guns. Suddenly, he had idea. He motioned for a private to come up to where he was, and follow his lead. He pulled out a grenade, and pulled the pin, waiting for a two count before hurling it off of the wall to the left. The private followed suit, throwing to the right, and with an arm motion Thompson and his men stormed into the hallway right after the explosion, easily taking out the stunned defenders. Thompson frowned at what he had done. His grenade had missed the machine gun by two whole feet. Not up to his usual standard.


"Go! Go! Go!" shouted Ayne to Roberts. "They've penetrated kill zone one, and kill zone two is in danger. I wanted them trapped... have our counterattack strike the vulnerable force."
"Right away, Colonel."
Two special forces soldiers, dressed all in black, silently exited a secret passageway into the main hallway. With a silenced pistol, one hit Svenson in the base of the skull, killing him instantly. The other snuck up behind Lewis and slit his throat silently. With a gesture, twenty more special forces soldiers came out of their hiding places, following Sergeant Williams down the tunnel.

ooc: more on this later. This is hard. Sorry if it's awkward at points, just try to visualize it.

OOC: Ah, it's fine. RPing actual close quarters combat is difficult to do as still make sense.

Also, though usually building defence requires heavy weapons to prevent entrance, in this case the SF would allow the PNs to enter and then pick at them with rifle arms fire, thus disallowing the need for said heavy weapons.

Alternatively, I'm just babbling. Somewhere in your RP, the Linits will enter and such, and a super long post will wrap up everything, almost, but for now, I'll just sit here.

L.S.S. Nioly

Lisle felt the floor give way beneath her, and the entire room began to tilt as glass around her dissolved into thousands of fragments. She felt her back suddenly fill with shards of glass and she spasmed in pain before hitting the floor.

On the floor though, Lisle found herself very calm and aware. She noted all the pools of blood, who was alive, and what equipment functioned. Shock, this is shock before the death. Well, if we are going down, so is that other destroyer. She heard a voice speak, though it seemed removed and separate from the abstract pain that stabbed her back. "Fire all remaining cruise missiles and unleash one last round of the gun."

And then Lisle left shock and life, her body consumed in a torrent of fire.

The destroyer shuddered and twisted in the waters, flames roaring from the engines and men throwing themselves out of the ship. But even as the ship twisted from side to side, the MODS system, still functioning as it was programmed, fired off the ten remaining cruise missiles of the ship as the five inch gun sprang to life above. Nine of the cruise missiles managed to launch correctly, but the last slammed into the hull of the ship and detonated itself, silencing the gun above.

The stern of the ship split and freed itself from the rest, rising to the sky in a pillar of flame before it succumbed to gravity and fell back to the boiling waters.

OOC: If this ruins anyone's plans, let me know, and I'll edit it. I just thought it had been a great run, and I was glad to end it now. Only PN and DPUO now have dangling plotlines, and the PN one is wrapping up soon.

Outside Sed

Egal nearly cursed as she saw the helicopter try to scare Tre off. We can't let that cell phone be damaged! I just hope my agent in Tenb was correct. Of course she was, it was all playing out before me. And I did beat Nuhmi's men. She ran to teh edge of a cliff over the water and fired a flare up over the helicopter. When she was sure the pilot had noticed her, she crossed her arms and shook her head in the universal sign of "NO!"

The Azazian copter pilot, obviously brighter than many flyboys, stopped firing and pulled back up. Behind Egal, a black sedan swerved up the dirt road. The Sea help me! Egal pulled a pistol from her belt and shot the front tire of the sean, sending it spinning into a tree.

Turning back to the river, where Tre had jumped from her abandoned jetski, Egal tied her hair quickly into a bun, stripped out of her uniform down to a swimsuit, and dived into the blue waters beneath.

Hitting the water in a column of white bubbles, Egla paddled furiously, faster than she had ever done before. She twisted around rocks and under logs like the seal she was named after, and broke the surface of the water on the other shore was a deep gulp of air.

Egal pulled herself up onto the shore and checked to make sure her knives were still in their sheathes around her neck, torso, arms, legs, feet, and hands. Twenty-seven. She would need all of them.

Ahead of her, Tre was weaving through the dense pathc of trees, abandoning her clothes until she was dressed only in a t-shirt and her pants. Egal picked herself up and ran through the trees without turning, gaining cuts and leaving a stream of blood droplets behind her as she ran. "Jiuu Tre yiums sclene!" she called out to Tre.

Tre turned and drew a knife. "Ger ti, emmio ti?" she taunted before flicking the knife at Egal, who dodged it easily. So she has had Linit training, at least some. It's too late for her now.

Egal jumped up and spun, flicking three knives at Tre who jumped behind a tree and threw a knife back in return. Egal threw herself at Tre, who tried to trip her, but Egal twisted in midair at the last moment and kicked her in the chin, sending the woman stumbling backwards.

That was all Egal needed. Sliding one last knife into her hands, Egal leaped at the disoriented woman and placed it into her chest before rolling on the ground.

There was a breath of surprise and shock, and Egal heard Tre mutter, "Ti Tao emmio tiopac. Er?" A soft thud preluded the quiet that set over the forest, one even the steady beating of the helicopters blades above couldn't penetrate.

Egal caught her breathe and moved over to the silent woman, who laid prostrate on the ground, her black sunglasses cracked and bent. The Linit felt through the pockets of the pants before pulling out a dull, silver and scratched cellphone in a plastic, waterproof bag.

All of that, everything, over this? Was I crazy when I ordered this operation? Did Tre know. Egal stood and stretched her arms out. The answer to all of the questions was a "Yes!" and that thought alone let Egal smile. It's almost over, everything. When Uyse returns, it will al be done.

The Linit slid into the dense forest, and moved away, leaving the body behind with a blossoming of red on the chest, like a flower blooming into life.

Tenb

Nuhmi groaned at the familiar buzzing sound of his cellphone and answered it irritably. "Yes?" he asked, gruffly.

Tirrew smiled, worriedly though, at the expression on Nuhmi's face as the speaker inaudibly said his report. The general's eyes went wide, his face went red, and his mouth hung open. "General?" Tirrew inquired, when Nuhmi hung up.

Nuhmi grimaced. "Sir, I'm sorry, but Tre was last seen entering a forest, followed shortly by a Linit, unidentified."

Tirrew nodded sadly. "When Fuego returns, we've lost them. I hope whatever they want, they get."

Nuhmi silently agreed. "And hope the Azazians don't try to learn much more about them, 'cause I would feel sorry for the Azazians in that case," the general muttered softly to himself.

Tirrew looked up. "Make the announcement that Tre has died escaping pursuit of the Azazians. Just avoid the subject of Fuego."

The fishing village know as Sed

Three women sat on the edge of the dock, their toes skimming the surface of the cool water. There was no anxiety of unease about them, it was a gathering of reflection and calm. Two of the women wore skirts, one was dressed only in a bathing suit.

"So we have the numbers?" one asked casually, lying down on the docks.

Another woman nodded and dropped a wet plastic bag beside her. "It's over for now. They will find her body, and Fuego, and it will end."

"And the other warheads?"

"We are tracking them down now."

The third woman splashed some water on her face and smiled. "The Azazians, I assume, have learned about us?"

The women in the bathing suit smiled in return. "Yes, yes they do. And Sero will tell them many other things, as well."

The woman who lied down sighed. "We may have to expand to the Commonwealth, then, now that we are free of the Lindimese government."

The other two woman nodded. There was a silent pause, not awkward, but one of mutual comfort and content.

"Could Tre have... done all of this?" one asked curiously.

The woman in the bathing suit nodded. "The first battle, in the seas. If we hadn't managed to move an incompetent sailor to command the last battleship, Sero might of had the little advantage he needed to reach out to the foreign fleets."

"The foreigners were stronger than either Tre or we expected."

"They are," the woman who had laid down said, "interesting."

"Yes."

"When should we next meet?"

"Someday."

"Then I will see you there."

"The Sea willing."

Conference Room
HMS Yorke

Ramsey opened the door to the room, saw Sero sitting at one end of the long wooden table, and quietly placed a manilla folder at the opposite end. She tugged the bottom of her blouse and smiled at the Lindimese officer, “Good day, Admiral Sero. I am Captain Emily Ramsey of the Commonwealth Royal Navy. You are now in the custody of the Royal Navy, charged with complicity in most heinous acts committed during war against the people of the Commonwealth of Azazia, specifically referring to the nuclear detonation approximately one-kilometer off the coast of the city of Carthage where over 300 thousand have perished. The maximum punishment for these crimes is execution through a lethal injection of a toxin.”

She pulled out her chair, but merely leaned against the back, and leaned down to pull a pair of reading glasses, “However, you may be inclined to help your own case. There is some information that we would be most willing to entertain any information you are willing to reveal about the Lindimese fleet, specifically submarine warfare capability as well as surface fleet warfare capabilities. Currently some, shall I say, rogue elements of your former socialist command have taken it upon themselves to engage picket elements of approaching Commonwealth commands. As you can surely see, the safety of our men and women are considered paramount. Ultimately, you must know that these ships will be hunted down and sunk for violation of our arranged agreement. However, if you are able to provide us with specific details of the ships in the Lindimese fleet more precise attacks can be carried out that, although will still cause a loss of life, will not result in the ultimate destruction of these ships.” Ramsey looked up at the admiral, she had seen the video recordings of his conversation with Atkinson, and she replaced the files on the table, “You should know that at this point, Tre has been killed in the jungles and is no longer a threat to Lindim or this Commonwealth; the only threat that remains are the ships formerly under your command.”

Finally Ramsey sat down, sliding a pen and pad of paper down to Sero across the polished table. She also pulled out a tape recorder, “You understand of course, that this conversation will be recorded. If you please, Admiral, tell me anything you can.”

Bridge
HMS Yorke

Admiral Sir Charles Atkinson smiled as he sipped his tea. He stared out across the calm blue sea, finally peace was at hand. He had received word that Tre had been killed, and thus the Socialist Rebellion, or whatever Lindim would call this fiasco, was over. It came with a dear price, however. Over 300 thousand Commonwealth civilians, and approximately 1,500 members of the Commonwealth Royal Navy that had died under his command. History would soon record a name for the battle off the Booni coast, but it too would leave its own scar, radiation would be poisoning the waters off the northern coast for decades to come from the broken reactor shield of the Breningrad. Not to mention all those who had directly died from Atkinson’s missiles, and the bullets of the special forces in the jungle somewhere. Lindim would surely face troubling times for years to come, as would the Commonwealth. He couldn’t imagine the sort of horrors awaiting his return, especially to those who hailed from Carthage or the surrounding environs. Either way, it was time to begin a mission of another sort. Word had come down from on high for diplomatic and humanitarian missions to begin in Lindim. His orders meant the return of the Yorke to Tenb. This time, however, it would come in with flags flying and name uncovered, representing the might and power of the Commonwealth since the carrier was a force of power projection. Perhaps he would even open the ship to limited public tours and such. That was all off beyond the horizon, in the land barely visible as mountain peaks and clouds. Directly in front of him was the calm blue sea of Lindim.

Sero smiled at the woman, but he let her know through his eyes that he felt no joy. "Madam, the fighting is over. I ordered all of my ships to stand down, and all but perhaps a few of them have, I am sure. When you ask me to tell you the specification of Lindimese ships that, per our agreement, are now part of the official Lindimese fleet, you are encouraging me to commit treason, to spill the weaknesses of the only thing left that can defend the nation you have helped to save."

Sero smiled a second time, but this time with a bitter appreciation of the irony. "Ah, treason. I already did commit that didn't I? Nonetheless, I will not cause any further damage to Lindim. I will tell you, however, that I am glad Tre is dead. What she did in your Commonwealth," he said cooly, "was an act I would have gladly killed her for."

Suddenly something very odd occured to Sero, and he sat up straighter. "I was not directly involved in the acts of terrorism against your nation. Why I am being held by you? Shouldn't the Lindimese government be trying me for my crimes against them?" But the inspiration and the indignity of the moment left Sero, and he slumped back down, realizing how very tired he was. Too tired to think straight or match wits with this woman, who had all the signs of being a spook.

Conference Room
HMS Yorke

Ramsey smiled at Sero’s polite but unhelpful words. More than likely he was onto her, he was an admiral, a very powerful one. But she would get what she wanted. “I see, Mr. Sero. Your loyalty to Lindim is most honourable, however, I assure you at this time it is misplaced. Per arrangements in a newly signed treaty with the Lindimese government, we have the right to try you according to Commonwealth law. This is, to be bluntly honest, the least that the Commonwealth can do so as not to what would be in effect a punishment for the acts of a few disloyal Lindimese. National governments compromise for the best of all involved, and on occasion, the men,” Ramsey motioned with her hands to Sero, “and women in their service are considered scapegoats. No longer is the question about your direct involvement pertinent; you see, in the Commonwealth, you legally entered into a conspiracy which led to a terrorist act. You are therefore in part culpable. I will grant you that you did not push the button, and you might not even approve of Tre’s actions, but you were a part of the conspiracy nonetheless. However, if you were to have cooperated I could have made sure for you that such information played favorably for you. However, your… reluctance to assist us leaves me in a difficult situation.” Ramsey motioned for Sero to stand, “You are being relocated off the Yorke to a secure facility within the Commonwealth. I will be accompanying you on the journey.” She pressed a hidden button underneath the table and two armed guards entered into the room. “We must leave immediately.”

On the flight deck a carrier-based cargo plane stood ready in front of an electromagnetic launch system. Ramsey motioned for two medical aides to rush the cargo containers into the waiting hold, she watched them unpack several different IVs, syringes, and monitoring equipment. She had noticed the tired look of this admiral, that would actually play well into her advantage, unfortunately he had rebuked her offer to do it the honorable way. She smiled and thanked the medics for their assistance and waved to a waiting lieutenant. He wore a badge different than the rest of the Yorke crew, it was the symbol of the Central Directorate. She had officially taken over this mission from Atkinson. No doubt, however, that this man may notice this minor discrepancy. Ramsey, ever the good agent signaled for the man to come over, she paused as a fighter roared off the flight deck, “Lieutenant, go back and change your uniform, I want something with the insignia of the Yorke. There is to be no signs that any of us are working apart from the Royal Navy, although I suspect he may already have some ideas. Dismissed.”

Ramsey waited for the lieutenant to return before summoning the guards to bring forth Sero. When they did, she brought them inside the aircraft. “This is a C-43 long-range light cargo aircraft, Admiral. As you can see, designed to deployed from a carrier, it is primary designed to transport light cargo stuffs to and from carrier fleets, i.e. replacement crews, mail, light cargo stuffs such as books, movies, and the ever popular – though entirely unhealthy – cigarettes. This will also be our means of conveyance to the carrier HMS London where we refuel before flying directly to the capital of Imperium. Of course, I hope you understand that we must first need to run a few tests to ensure that you are not carrying any communicable diseases into the London carrier group or the Commonwealth.” She motioned for the three medics onboard to restrain Sero onto the bed in the hold. “The medics are going to inject you with a local anesthetic that will dull the pain from the sensors.” Ramsey waved her hand over any potential objections by Sero, and the medics proceeded to inject syringes that indeed held anesthetics. However, they also contained several chemicals that would relax Sero’s natural inhibitions to prevent Ramsey from learning all he knew about the capabilities of the Lindimese armed forces, specifically his area of specialty, naval issues. “It will take about fifteen minutes or so until the anesthetic begins to work.”

ooc: a pause just to allow you to inject anything Sero wants to say before chemicals take effect, they're mainly what are referred to as 'truth' serums, very potent... and of course sero doesn't know that ramsey is feeding him lies, obviously there are no rogue lindimese vessels and no such agreement between the two nations... hooray for intelligence agencies with far too much power

PNN Evergreen

"Tactical," said Captain Farway is a very tired, slurred tone, "what is the status of the enemy ship?"
"Destroyed, Captain," said the Lieutenant with a bittersweet smile. "But apparently, not without one last effort to destroy us."
"RADAR, confirm?"
"Aye, sir, a shell just landed in the water off the port, clearly their targeting systems were damaged, but we also have nine missiles coming in. We can't expect to be so lucky with them."
"ETA?"
"A few minutes, Captain."
"Why would they do this? This is no longer a fight for survival... don't they know that their little revolution is over?"
Military training had taught the Lieutenant to recognize a rhetorical question.
"Comm, I want this transmitted across the ship."
"Aye, Sir."
"Attention crew. This is the Captain speaking. You are all," he hesitated, "You are all to abandon ship. Find a life boat, and abandon ship. That is all."
Despite the calm, collected manner in which he spoke those words, they incited panic across the ship. Men were jumping over other men, over bent and disjointed metal spars, making their way to the life rafts. The wounded had to be abandoned in the sick bays, as there was no time to save them. All the doctor could do was sedate them, so that they wouldn't feel the onrush of water and fire.
Farway himself sat in his command chair, hands clenching the arm rests, their whiteness the only clue into his state of mind. He was breathing in and out, in and out, clearly focusing on each breath.
"Sir, aren't you going to abandon ship?" asked a squeaky Ensign.
"Haven't you ever heard the old saying, son? The captain goes down with the ship."
"Like hell he does, sir!" shouted the ensign, and knocked his Captain unconscious with his service pistol. Carrying the Captain, about his own weight, proved an arduous task, but the "fireman's lift" proved useful. Once he stumbled into the hallway, other hands and arms helped with the task, almost like pall bearers. They left on the last of the life boats, just as the first of five missiles made it through the depleted and damaged missile defenses. Soon, a giant explosion ripped through the hull, as the fuel tank had been hit. Dodging falling debris, they activated their distress beacons, watching the flaming hulk of the Evergreen fade beneath the blue waves.

Booni Jungle Complex

With a rapid hand signal, the Lindimese Special Forces stormed the rear of Williams's patrol. Firing smoke grenades as well as frag grenades, the rear units were cut to pieces. However, those behind them reacted instantly to the noise and the motion, torquing themselves around and firing at the muzzle flashes, still visible through the smoke. They quickly switched to IR vision, as did the Lindimese, but the initial surprise had done its job. Six Pacificans lay dead before a single kill was made in return. As the Pacificans regrouped, the Lindimese were quickly outnumbered. Realizing this, they made an ordered retreat back to the nearest secret passage, taking and giving casualties as they went. Reduced to eight men, they slipped away into the tunnel.
"That bastard is going down," said Williams, himself grazed in the shoulder. he found the entrance to the secret passage, opened it, but his rifle inside and blindly gave them hell. It was a narrow passage by necessity, and so Williams's method was quite effective. Only three made it back to Ayne to report.
"Colonel, we surprised them as we were told. The laughable rearguard was killed without incident, and we believe we inflicted serious casualties before we were forced to retreat."
"And what of the rest of your men?"
"Dead, sir... those guys are good shots, whoever they are."
"Damn... let's hope you hurt them sufficiently. Our booby traps have so far proven useless. We can still hope to get lucky, or that they will get careless, but I highly doubt it. Are the plastic explosives in place?"
"Yes, Colonel."
"Good. Make sure these ones are remote controlled, not activated by pressure or a trip wire."
"They are, sir"
"Excellent. Let's see them defy fire."

Thompson was worried. He had just received word that Williams had taken heavy casualties, from attackers that apparently came from out of nowhere. And Thompson knew what that meant. Lewis and Svenson were long dead. What cruel lottery made them the rearguards? No one could ever know.
"Men, get your IR scopes up, and have it register on your HUDs. We could expect an ambush from any angle, and from the... experience of the other groups, we can expect smoke grenades."
"Yes, Major."
Seconds later, Thompson caught the spark of an aluminum fuse out of the corner of his eye. "Bomb!" he shouted, hitting the deck. His soldiers followed suit, but the explosion was massive, showering his forces with shrapnel and debris from the walls. Most of it was placed at chest level, to optimize kill rate, and so most injuries were minor. However, seven men were either dead or critically wounded. Their injuries were bound as best as they could be considering circumstances, and then they were forced to move on.

"Sir, they are approaching the Corridor. What are we to do?"
"Last stand," replied Ayne, "We'll fight them here. Have twelve of our men circle around, and join in the fire fight when it gets started. The rest are to guard this room. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Colonel."

Thompson looked out of a nearby window. Huh. This terrain looked familiar. According to the vague map given by the Linits, they were almost to the corridor. He sent a brief message to the Linits, telling them the objective was almost accomplished. This was only half true: the resistance would be fierce. They approached a room on the side of the corridor, and started to stream in, to secure it. The first soldier through the door took a bullet between his eyes, and the men behind him dodged to the side, abandoning the invasion for the present. Thompson grimaced to himself. Should have seen that coming. He quickly formulated his plan, and communicated it to the other members of his team. They were going in.
3...2...1... the signals came, then the signal for "go". Smoke grenades were launched into the room, followed by normal grenades, flashbangs, and anything else they could think of to stun their opponents. Then special ops stormed the room, IR gear already on, overwhelming the defending force. Though they took heavy casualties, in the end the corridor was theirs. "Mission complete, Madame Linit. The damn mission is complete."

OOC: Aww... and I liked Sero too. Also, funnily enough, I was going to have Sero place a cyanide pill capsule in his mouth earlier and swallow it, but I thought that was going too far. But it isn't. Well, since I have the feeling Ramsey is plotting for hostile actions over Lindim, I'll have Sero do one last act of defiance.

You had to make this no fun, didn't you? I really wanted to use Sero in an actual combat later, in a different RP perhaps. You had to ruin my new favorite character.

IC: Sero twitched at the injection in his arm, and a strange sensation began spreading through his head. Something's not right in what she just said. Wait, agreement? That sounds true... but what about the Estanni Court?

He opened his mouth, and found he had to force the words out, he was so dazed and strangley relaxed. "Tell me, captain, did they talk about applying Clause Five of the Estanni Federation Accord for when I get back? That would make me alot happier." He ended his question with a giggle and a silly smile, but mentally he screamed. They drugged you! If she answers this question wrong, you've got to do something!

Ooc: the plan isn’t to have him killed, of course logically to any intelligence agency of a devious nature there is the possibility that Sero would disappear, the plan is merely to gain intelligence, ultimately the Commonwealth is concerned about the Lindimese capability to strike the Commonwealth in regular military action… actually, I’ll explain all this in Ramsey’s “inside thoughts”

C-43 Cargo Plane Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean

Ramsey listened intently to Sero, she and the Commonwealth had much to learn from the man. What was this about an Estanni Court, perhaps mere babbling. However, as she looked at her watch she saw that little time had elapsed, if he was well-trained he was still within the limit of partial-cognitive functionality. She had to wait another five minutes or so before the full effect of the drugs would kick in, and until then any sort of counter-espionage device under Sero’s own control could be activated. The trick was to wait until he was thoroughly disarmed and then do a sweep and commence questioning.

She smiled at the foreign officer, “What was that, I didn’t hear you properly.” She needed to buy as much time as possible, and in the meantime formulate a plausible answer to his question, which she had fully heard and understood. When he repeated his question, she frowned. “What I can tell you is the basic terms of the treaty, which are as follows.” Ramsey walked to the side of the small gurney.

“Under the treaty, Lindim apologized for the massive devestation caused by Tre’s nuclear weapons. That was the first clause, you know all that diplo-babble that we sailors don’t really care for. It took up quite a few paragraphs. Anyway, after that, they admitted partial blame for the blast, apparently they had concealed several warheads from your Linits and it was from this stockpile that the warhead detonated at Carthage originated. Since Lindim is quite… I guess the most apt word would be devastated, from the whole affairs, your government is incapable of providing adequate economic or humanitarian aid to the survivors at Carthage. The third important part was a compromise on your government’s part; they had initially wanted to try you for treason or something like the same – the Commonwealth doesn’t yet fully understand your laws or culture so the actual charges are… vague to us, but we surmise it’s along the same lines of treason. Anyway, since my government demanded something tangible to show its people, you are the next best thing they have to Tre. Consequently, you are to be put on trial in our capital Imperium for the crimes I told you about before. There was a tacit agreement, although unwritten that you would not be executed, that we would instead serve you some sort of, house arrest where you would be returned to Lindim for your own trial and you would serve some sort of public punishment to show our people you are paying for your crimes.

Ramsey sighed, hopefully this made sense to him in his rapidly deteriorating mental state. It wouldn’t be long before he fell completely victim to chemicals. Then she could begin asking him questions about Lindim, about their navy, air force, marines, and the Linits. Then the Commonwealth could connect the dots, and they might understand their most secretive… she hesitated on the word ally, allies didn’t hide things. “Now, all that was of course muddled and confused with diplo-babble and fancy words, especially those of Lindimese origin – words that I and my immediate superiors frankly don’t understand. So is it possible that you are to be subject to this… I think you called it Clause Five? I don’t know, if that’s your impending trial, yes. Otherwise, I don’t really know. All I have are my orders, to make sure you arrive safe in Imperium for your trial. After that, Lindimese representatives will arrive and you’ll be in their care. But for now, you’re in Commonwealth custody. Does that answer your question, Admiral?”

OOC: Yes, but Sero being the honourable man he is, is going to have to kill himself when he comes to. He thought himself a patriot, and you are forcing him to treason. He will try to send of a message to the Linits, before taking his own life in shame. The greatest naval genius I had, and now I have to kill him before he entered battle with me.

IC: Sero twisted and, through an effort of will he thought he never had, screamed and thrashed about on the bed they had. "That's... not... protocol..." he managed to force out between clenched teeth. "You... don't deserve to be... sailor... the Linits, will strip...you bare...I... SWEAR!" He beat his head backwards before finally losing on control, and issolving into a mixture of peaceful contentment and the choked breath and the tears. "You... monster."

And suddenly, to him, he didn't feel so bad anymore. It all seemed very real to him still, but so far removed and abstract. It was all okay. Ramsey was nice.

And, from a floating free and tortured consciousness of his mind, Sero cried.

OOC:
Do I have anything left to do, or do I just sit back, relax and enjoy the show?

C-43 Cargo Plane somewhere over the Pacific Ocean

Ramsey smiled at the man who lay before her crying. It may not be protocol in Lindim, but it was standard protocol in the Central Directorate. She leaned in and gave the man a small kiss on the forehead, “Everything will be alright, I promise.” And it would be, in time. The Central Directorate would in the interim pry Sero’s mind and gain all the intelligence it could about Lindim – they had already nuked the Commonwealth once, why not again? The Central Directorate was charged with gaining information on foreign nations that served as both ally and enemy of the Commonwealth, and although the Commonwealth had entered the conflict in Lindim as a friend, members of the upper-government now expressed doubts about a nation that claimed no-nuclear weapons and yet attacked the Commonwealth with a 100 kiloton device. And for a nation that acted as a friend, it hid a great deal. This was what Ramsey knew, and why she was serving here. Ramsey held no dislike for the Lindimese, that Tirrew and Nuhmi seemed like nice fellows, as did this Sero, but the problem was that for all the Lindimese had shared with her and her government, they had not shared quite a bit… and that withheld knowledge directly caused the death of over 300 thousand civilians. In her mind, this interrogation of a legitimate prisoner was in and of itself legitimate. She smiled at the man sobbing below her, she wished him no harm. But she wish above all no harm to come to the Commonwealth.

“Now, Admiral, I’m sure you didn’t mean all that you just said to me. I’m no monster, I’m just a captain in the Royal Navy. And my navy and yours, we’re friends now. The war at home is over. Your government and mine, we’re friends now. The war at home is over. We are friends now, we can talk about many things.” And so Ramsey’s conversation continued, talking about many things from Sero’s home, slowly earning his trust like an old friend from home, until she began conversations regarding his job, an admiral in the Lindimese Navy. “So you’ve been an admiral for how many years?” She listened to his answer, not particularly caring, “So that must mean you control plenty of ships, how many ships do you command? How many carriers, submarines, and missile ships are in a standard battle group, and battle groups in a fleet?” Ramsey’s questions continued, asking about means of propulsion, radar capabilities, locations of naval bases, missile capabilities, and about hidden nuclear arms caches.

OOC: I'm waiting for you to give my Linits the go in the building, PN! :D Until then, Fuego is just sitting there, dying.

Also, you might want to contact Tirrew about post-war alliances, because Lindim is going to need a better ally than Azazia, who is going all paranoid on Tirrew and Nuhmi. :p

Tirrew and Nuhmi really don't know anything, they weren't holding anything back. Ramsey just never asked.

ooc: but then Ramsey didn't know that, and neither did anyone else... it's not Azazia wouldn't be a good ally... it's just that like there were in Lindim, there are different factions in the Commonwealth government, as I would have hoped had become apparent in the different natures of my characters and such... but nevertheless, the official government, unaware of the Central Directorate's actions is not paranoid, but let me get a post up on that nature

"I've only been an admiral for five years," Sero smiled and responded dazedly. "That's public information, you know. I command the two Northern Fleets and three Western Fleets. Each fleet contains two large carrier groups ((OCC: I'll list this at the bottom)) and one or two lighter carrier groups. I must command around six hundred ships, I don't know the exact number."

Stop it!

OOC: Large carrier group

1 Yu-class heavy carrier
4 Derrin Mo-class fleet carriers
2 Languin Alg-class light carriers
1 Torrent-class heavy strike ship
5 Sea Barrier-class nuclear powered battleships
5 Lunmarin Isle-class guided missile battlecruisers
10 Linc Fighter-class heavy missile cruisers
15 Steadfast Tsunami-class missile cruisers
20 Barrage-class destroyers
25 Loon-class frigates
30 Blessed Waters-class corvettes
10 Lightening Eel-class fast missile boats
10 Glacier-class mine clearance vessels
4 Endgame-class nuclear powered attack submarines

OOC: Azazia, I know! I'm not a complete idiot, I do see the various factions and why Ramsey did what she did. Ahh...

Loyalist Headquarters
Tenb, Lindim

Lawrence Coleridge smiled broadly as he entered the compound that had become like home to some of the Yorke’s battlegroup. Unlike all the other Commonwealth contacts Tirrew and Nuhmi had met, Coleridge would be the first civilian. Coleridge had been a long-serving member of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and had under a different government even served as the Minister of Foreign Affairs, but the government of Tetley had replaced him with Ivan Valovich, and so he had retired, until called upon by Valovich to be the new envoy to Lindim.

Coleridge had been briefed on the long, unceremonious flight by cargo get to the Yorke about the conflict in Lindim. Everything seemed to be falling into place, Tre was dead and slowly Lindim would recover, with the Commonwealth’s help of course. And now was time to open normal diplomatic relations. He walked over to the man that had been identified as Tirrew and extended his hand, “Sir, I am Lawrence Coleridge from the Commonwealth of Azazia. I wish to congratulate you on your victory over Tre, although from what I understand there has been no contact with your elected Prime Minister. If there is anything further we can do to help bring back Ms. Fuego, please just tell me and I will see what I can do. However, enough of military matters, if you will pardon my saying so General Nuhmi, but I do not particularly care for matters of war. Mr. Tirrew, as acting Prime Minister, would I be correct in talking to you about negotiations for treaties concerning the post-conflict security of Lindim and the Commonwealth. I think you would agree that we both an interest in securing and maintaining peace between your nations. In fact, I am aware of something that you may not like; during the conflict, your Socialist fleets managed to sink one of our nuclear-powered cruisers. In doing so they cracked the reactor shield and it has been leaking fuel into the waters off your Booni coast for several days now. If you would agree to loaning us a deepwater port for a brief time, we could assist you in removing this hazard. We offer this as a symbol of long-lasting peace between our nations.” Coleridge smiled at Tirrew and handed him a bound report, which when Tirrew would read would detail an extensive operation to raise the hull of the HMS Breningrad and then see the deactivation of the nuclear core and its transportation to a safe facility in the Commonwealth.

C-43 Cargo Plane Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean

Ramsey smiled, “That’s impressive Admiral, what sort of firepower do all those ships have? I imagine it must be a great deal in order to protect all the Lindimese people. I can’t imagine the sorts of firepower they have on board… what do these ships carry, Admiral… and where do you manage to base all these ships?”

Ooc: basically Ramsey will be trying to find out the disposition of the Lindimese fleets, how many, how many missiles each has, where they are based, how much they cost to upkeep, et cetera. And i didn't say you were an idiot, I just wanted to make sure you didn't miss that subtle but important point

Tenb

Tirrew Smiled and shook the man's hand happily as Coleridge began to talk. Men like this were the friendly and competent people who Tirrew had tried to surround himself with. Suppresing a grin at the slight at Nuhmi, he handed the folder over to an aide and turned back to Azazian. "Thanks for the assistance," Tirrew said, sropping his formal manner of speech instintively, "I'm sure this will be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. We've already begun trying to contain the damage in that area as much as possible, and any removal is going to help with the ecological recovery. But all in all, I think Lindim will be able to recover from this tragedy. S&y, a Lindimese based international conglomerate, has already donated a sum more than the Lindimese government budget last year. But even after all of that, any help with repairing our infrastructure will be appreciated." He laughs and and adjusts his tie with a wistful sigh.

"What we'll need most of all after this are allies, plain and simple. We need allies to stop events like this from happening in any country, and we need to use our diplomatic strength to stop such attacks as the on your nation from happening. We're rebuilding Iova, now that we've seized it back. We'd love to an embassy exchange program with you."

Nuhmi steps up and interjects into the conversation. "On that note, sir, could I suggest a program to destroy or secure the last nuclear stockpile in Lindimn?"

Cargo Plane

Sero looked at his panic and concern in his mind, and saw it as a distant ball, real but far away. "Oh, our ships are designed for versality, we get nearly all of them from the aWen Corporation. They are designed to hold nearly any missiles, from Tomahawk naval cruisers to Harpoon ship missiles to EA4 SAM missiles. It really depends on the class of ship. Our newest destroyers have 196 VLS cells! As for our bases, we are a very large islands nation after all. We have managed a technique that increases our power projection by building temporary bases into the sides of small, rocky islands within days using our supply and replenish ships. This 'insta-base' allows us to perform operations of indefinite length anywhere in the world. That's one of the secrets the our Navy's success."

OOC: Curse my brother! He left his nation on. I'll go fix that. And if you found this because of my recent post, good job! Largessea is Lindim! Well, being used by Lindim. Kind of. My brother hasn't played this since he made it.

OOC: There.

Loyalist Headquarters
Tenb, Lindim

Coleridge smiled, “Mr. Tirrew, I am sure that our two great nations can come to some agreement as to alliances and such, as for help with rebuilding your infrastructure the Commonwealth has many corporations wishing to expand their business, especially shipping and maritime construction companies. They could perhaps assist in replacing the losses your navy suffered. As for your concerns to infrastructure, I am sure several satellite companies in the Commonwealth would be willing to have their services rendered. And as for an embassy exchange, that of course is only natural given the events our nations have shared.” Coleridge turned to Nuhmi, “And General, the Commonwealth would be willing to secure the weapons in Lindimn, that should not be a problem. It might take some time, but in two or three years these weapons should be destroyed.”

"However, any sort of aid will require a base of operations. To that extent I have been authorized to negotiate for the lease or purchase of area to be converted into a Commonwealth extraterritoriality where we can base our operations, initially this will be the teams slated to recover the HMS Breningrad, and later of course, the ports that will receive the Commonwealth freighters and naval forces that I assume will assist in the defense of Lindim. For if we are to assist you, we will need a logistical base to operate from."

C-43 Cargo Plane Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean

Ramsey smiled, “Wow, that is very interesting. What of your airforce? What can you tell me of them, what sort of weapons do they have, do they utilize these ‘insta-bases’ as well? Do they maintain nuclear weapons?

Cargo Plane

Sero looked quizzical before returning to his carefree state. "Nuclear weapons, in Lindim? There are none, and the last time a politician suggested that, he was exiled to Huyuni, years ago. Most of our aircraft are based off of carriers, and thus do utilize, indirectly, those temporary bases. We do have a wing of aircraft back at Lindim, but that's generally non-combat types or heavy bombers. Nearly all fighters, except for a few squadrons, are based on carriers."

Tenb

Tirrew coughed obviously and gave Coleridge an apologetic look. "First of all, if you want to get rid of the nuclear stockpile, you have to discuss that with the President of Lindimn yourself. They are a sovereign nation now, and would like to make their own decisions on that subject. Also, I understand you altruistic reasons for such a base on Lindimese soil, but could I perhaps request a timelimit for your use of the base, perhaps, a year or two of unquestioned use, followed by twenty years of use with oversight from Lindimese forces?"

Loyalist Headquarters
Tenb, Lindim

Coleridge nodded, apparently obtaining all of Valovich’s goals would not be necessarily so easy as he had thought. That figured. Coleridge thought a moment about which route would be most advantageous to the Commonwealth, and to Lindim. “I see your concerns about violating the sovereignty of Lindimn as an independent power, however, given your history with them it may be best if the Commonwealth acts through you. You obtain the weapons from Lindimn and then we will even purchase the warheads from you, and you can use that money to help defray the costs of repairing your infrastructure – I would estimate that the most immediate of which would be the rebuilding of a satellite network since they are almost the backbone of international trade. To that end, once this preliminary meeting is completed I will confer with my boss, Ivan Valovich – I believe you’ve spoken though not met – about potential corporations with which your government could contract.”

“However, with the amount of aid that will be coming into Lindim, we will need a base with which we have unfettered control. To that end, the Commonwealth is willing to purchase land from Lindim for a reasonable price that could again be used to defray the cost of rebuilding your infrastructure. In return we would abide by several general rules; one of which would be the restriction of nuclear powered vessels – with the exception of our aircraft carrier – so that your nation has nothing to fear from nuclear contamination. That would also logically extend to a ban on nuclear weapons on board those ships. In return the Commonwealth is willing to enter into a mutual defense pact, especially until such time as Lindim regains proper military intelligence gathering capabilities, i.e. satellites. Our aircraft and naval vessels currently on station could be the initial force based here in Lindim. I’m sure you are familiar with Admiral Atkinson on board the HMS Yorke, if not him than his staff officers. He could become the liaison officer between you, General Nuhmi – or your naval equivalent – and coordinate defensive operations. In the end, we would be willing to pay an annual lease to your government in order to secure the facilities. And while we could negotiate the exact limitations on the base(s), I do not think that the Emperor or even the Minister of Defence would allow a foreign armed forces to oversee Commonwealth operations."

[b]C-43 Cargo Plane onboard HMS London[/i]

Ramsey smiled at Sero, “But how can you be sure about your nuclear weapons, one of our cities was completely destroyed by one of your non-existent weapons…”

OOC: Since the Tenb plotline is going to require a long post, I'll hold that plotline till tomorrow.

Cargo Plane

Sero shook his head. "It must of come from another nation because Tre never mentioned any hidden stockpiles in Lindim, and I am sure there are none at all. And I did have Top Secret Maximum security clearance."

[b]C-43 Cargo Plane onboard HMS London[/i]

Ramsey smiled, the long flight was almost over, and so was her interrogation of Admiral Sero. Soon, the flight would land outside Imperium and he would be properly released to the Lindimese authorities. Before he would leave, however, she would administer a second set of chemicals, one that would leave his susceptible to suggestion. In a few hours, Sero should remember nothing about any of this interrogation. If the memories she would implant held, he would have merely refused on the grounds she saw earlier, he would not commit treason a second time. However, Ramsey was convinced that Sero and Lindim meant no harm and posed no threat to the Commonwealth. Her mission was complete, and in several weeks it would come time to change her name… and rank… once again.

Ooc: I’m assuming a flight that lasted hours yielded some information about plane types and ship types and stuff that is sort of public knowledge and that if I ever need to find out we’ll just figure Sero informed my forces. And again, the chemicals that will be injected on arrival are more like hypnotic suggestive drugs that will be used to alter Sero’s recollection of all the events that have transpired since his drugging.

"Mission complete, Madame Linit. The damn mission is complete."
OOC: This means "go" :)

OOC: Ack! :( Sorry PN, and nice work. So this second to last subplot will end today.

OOC: PN, wow, I missed that entire post of yours. I think we did a nice naval battle, and excellent CQB RPing too.

Azazia, by the way, my whining is generally in good humor. :p I liked your little plot twist. If Lindim and Azazia ever go to war, we can assume you'll have knowledge about my fleets and such. Oh, but I still don't like Ramsey.

Also, I am surprised you ddin't ask questions about the Linits.

Target building in Booni

Twenty five Linits quickly walked down the corridor, not giving the corpeses or bullet holes a single glance. There was still more to be done, and it was lurking several hundred feet under them.

Uyse approached Thompson gave him a brief smile. He was a nice soldier, all in all, and this mission was successful. She would have to mention that. She gave him a shy bow, before pulling out her knife and stripping the wall bare. Behind one section of wallpaper, she found the open elevator doors. Below, she could see the borken elevator, burnt and wrecked at the bottom of the stairs. No time to spare, or waste. She drew out a nylon rope and slid a lock over a metal bar jutting out from above. She let the rope drope and watched in spiral all the way down to the bottom. One by one, the Linits slid down the rope, until at last Uyse was left.

She looked at the foreigners and gave one last brief curt nod. "Transportation out of here is your own decision. I suggest you move quickly." And then she took one step backwards and disappeared.

Below

Kara squeezed herself through the top of the broken elevator and hit the floor in front of two Special Forces soldiers. Letting her training take over, she planted a knife in the chest of one and quickly delivered a kick to the head of another, snapping it instantly. All around her, the halls erupted with gunfire and she had to dive behind a door quickly. "Ill fe ninlino!" she called out to the other Linits as theypoured through the elevator like water, a few of them hit by stray bullets.

Kara threw herself around the corner of the hallway and pulled off two shots from her pistol before she realized the soldiers' body armour would easily stop it. She drew two knives, flicking down the hallway as she rolled across. A round of bullets cut through her skirts, but she kept on running to the first door she saw, and fired one bullet into the lock. The door poper open and she ran into the bunk rooms, where two soldiers were waiting were their guns raised. She was close enough to jump over them and grabbed one, slicing his throat quickly as she heard another Linit cry out. She kicked the other one in the chest and ran back out into the hallways, only to see a group of Linits drawing heavy fire from soldiers.

Suddenly, Uyse appeared and shot out two light as she slid into the darkness and crept towards the soldiers. The soldiers immediately flipped on their NVGs and spun to face Uyse, but the other group of Linits stormed them.

All around Kara, the gunfire was dying down as she heard the Linits spread throughout the complex. Eventually, it all died down.

"Dead?"

"Four."

Kara shook her head. That was too much; they had let the Special Forces get too good for this kind of operation.

"I found Fuego! Poison!"

Suddenly Kara saw Uyse sweep by her and swing into the room. The door locked behind Uyse and Kara had to wait outside.

Fuego

Through the dim haze of her dying state, Fuego managed to force her mouth open. Wait, why am I doing that? Suddenly water pours down her raspy throat, and she gulps it down carefully, each drink a painful trial. But then, something solid like a pill goes down and Fuego slowly blacks out again.

Tenb

Tirrew nodded thoughtfully. It could work... but in the formal pact, I'm going to have to state a clause that prevents them from abusing this position. I've just put Lindim in the weakest position it's ever been in. Well, almost. "Okay, Coleridge," he said with a smile, "I agree. I'll set up meeting with Lillid, the president of Lindimn, and I believe Nuhmi will want to discuss the base with his military colleagues from Azazia."

He shook the man's hand and an aide opened the door behind him. "I look foward to meeting with you again, perhaps next time in the Blue House in Iova." With one last friendly smile and wave, the door shut behind the Azazian and Tirrew turned towards Nuhmi. "Well?"

The general started to reply but stopped and pulled out his cellphone instead, an irritated look on his face. He answered it with an angry "What the hell do you want?" but the look of infuriation on his face was quickly replaced by an gaping astonishment. He nodded numbly and turned off the cellphone, his eyes wide.

"Well?" Tirrew asked, "What is it?"

Nuhmi managed a smile. "Sir, Fuego. Fuego's been rescued. She's at the International Iovan Hospital, and-"

But Tirrew was already out the door.

Nuhmi turned to his own aide. "Send a message to the Pacifics that we are grateful for their assitance, and hope to establish a friendly diplomatic relationship with them. Dress it up in the usual diplomatic bullshit. And get a press release about Fuego out there, now!"

Azazia Commonwealth Capital

The dark sedan pulled up, and two men in black suits and sunglasses stepped out, laughing. "So we grab Sero, go back home, and the entire thing is done?" the one with black hair said, adjusting his suit and brushing non-existent dust off.

His partner nodded. "Yea, apparently the Azazians just wanted to make sure he was okay before they turned him over to us. Go figure, they think we can't do it ourself."

"Yea, yea. Anyways, get your game face on, we have to go recieve him."

The two men walked briskly into the Azazian governmental building, the car behind them idling. But the driver was not resting.

When she heard the men walk off, she pulled out a cellphone and dials in a secure, encrypted number. She was in foreign territory after all.

"Hello?" the fuzzy, but distinctive voice on the other line asked in an obscure dialect of Lindimese.

"This is Jaen."

"Yes?"

"The discrepancy of times was enough. We have several hours of him unaccounted for."

"They probably did something. He'll have a mental block set in place."

"We suspect the captain, Ramsey."

"She probably wasn't even a captain. Okay, retrieve him for examination."

The driver nodded and turned off the cellphone as the two men returned, this time with a tall, distinguished looking man in between them, looking utterly placid. He'd kill himself if he knew.

The men entered, he car, with Sero in between, and tapped on the driver's shoulder. "Port, there's a ship waiting for us."

The driver nodded and pulled out two pistols, each loaded with a tranquilizer. She shot both men clamly and pulled out another one for Sero before he could react. When she was the only conscious individual left in the car, released the parking brake and gently applied pressure to the gas.

Iovan International Hospital

Fuego blinked dully and looked up at the fuzzy figures above her.

"The poison was incredibly made," one said, dressed in white. "It attacked her-"

"Will there be any permenant damage?" the other interjected. His voice sounded vaguely familiar.

The white figure shook her head. "Besides the trials of torture, there wil be no physical damage that's permenant. However, she's going to have to rest for awhile."

The other figure nodded and smiled at Fuego as his face began to come into focus. Tirrew. The Commerce Minister. And suddenly Fuego remembered everything, and shuddered.

"Welcome back, Ms. Prime Minister," Tirrew said, a smile on his face. "We've missed you."

Sed

Uyse sat with Egal outside the small village hut, a frown on her face. "So," she said slowly, "I'm guessing you got around the mental roadblock?"

Egal nodded, then shook her head. "Yes, but they put so many drugs into his body he can't remember exactly what he told them."

"Whne he wakes up, should we tell him?"

Egal laughed and shook her head again. "That they made him commit treason? He'd kill himself. No, we'll do our own hypnosis on him and drop him off to the Estanni Court with no memory of how much he's been used."

Uyse sighed and looked out at the sunrise, the pink and blue twisting in lines of morning. She supposed Egal was right.

Besides, it was going to be a beautiful day.

FINIS

Booni Island

The coffins made their way to the cargo plane, two by ten, in strict military formation, each coffin carried by four special ops. "Damn," thought Thompson, "we're supposed to have some left over." That was not the case. Every man in the unit, even Thompson, had to carry the burden of the dead physically, just as all of them did mentally. Even Stevens, his leg in bandages and a splint, supported a corner of a coffin on his shoulders as he hobbled forward on his crutches.
There had never been such a high death toll in the history of the Pacific Northwesterian special ops. But they had not died in vain: their deaths brought about the salvation of Fuego, and the start to a healing process in the brutalized nation of Lindim. Then there were the Azazians. Reluctant heroes, they had also suffered a casualty in the assault. Major Thompson was experienced enough to know that when it comes to casualties, it's more about presence or absence than about quantity. He knew that the Azazians were feeling just as he was. Everybody knew that too many people had died.
They marched up the ramp of the cargo plane, Stevens struggling against the incline. Thompson took one last look back on Lindim, and knew it was all worth it. Any nation that can create Fuego and Tre, any nation that is devoted to capitalism but has a passionate socialist undercurrent, any nation that can yield the zeal of a Linit, can not be allowed to vanish into death and obscurity. This place is a trial ground for mankind.

PNN Vengeance

Commodore Fortino was relieved. He wasn't going to die today. There was no socialist fleet, like so many islands, on the horizon. The special ops had done their job. And Sero had realized Tre's inhumanity. Everything was going well. Suddenly, a message appeared before Fortino's face. A message, barely readable through the molasses of diplomacy, from the office of Former Prime Minister Tirrew, signed in a shaky hand by... Prime Minister Fuego? Fortino immediately sent a message off to Admiral Michaels.
"Admiral, I think someone sent a diplomatic message to me by mistake. I'll forward it to you and you can send it to whomever one would send something like that to."
"You know the saying, Commodore: you fix it, you buy it."
"Actually, sir, I believe it goes..."
"Are you questioning my authority, Commodore? My authority over my own language?"
"No, Admiral. Of course not, Admiral."
"Good. Now go reap the reward of your efforts. You are to travel immediately to Iova, and set up personal talks with the leaders there. The diplomats can follow later to obscure everything. But the strongest connections are based on personal connections. We must get those in place. And you're the guy. They trust you... they didn't have a choice."
"Admiral, one more thing. The Evergreen was sunk by a rogue Lindimese ship, and only about half of the hands on board got off in time. It was a dying strike, though, sir. The other ship is at the bottom, we believe there to be no survivors."

Iova, Lindim

Commodore Fortino arrived in the capital city, where celebrations were being held despite the obvious devastation. Hell of a people, thought Fortino. He arrived at the temporary diplomatic headquarters, and approached the assembled leaders. He pulled a crinkled piece of paper out of his pocket, slightly smeared with sweat, and began reading.
"Sirs and Madames of the Lindimese Government. I come as a messenger of peace and of friendship. Your nation is in a time of need, while ours prospers. Your nation suffers devastation, while ours has not seen war on its own soil for many years. Your nation is devoutly capitalist, while ours is socialist in all but name*. I am here to offer friendship and protection, mutual when your nation has been rebuilt. I come with authorization of my government to act as an official representative of Pacific Northwesteria, and also with the authorization to offer humanitarian and monetary aid. The government of Pacific Northwesteria is prepared to pay 20% of all costs associated with rebuilding your nation, feeding your people until domestic sources are again available, and providing military protection for your waters and skies. From my government to yours, and from the bottom of my heart, I sincerely hope that this friendship will grow and prosper."

*OOC: completely by accident.

FINIS

OOC: Honestly, if you see in the other thread I posted recently, this was one of the best RPs on the II board for a while.

There was war, but no hundreds of cruise missiles being shot at each other, only small, well played and RPed, especially the one between our two destroyers.

There was political intrigue, but it was far from tired and had many twists, even one I didn't see.

There was a spec ops mission, but internal rivalries almost ruined it at the beginning.

And it was all well-written.

I really think I should stop now, while I'm ahead.

Booni Island

Franklin saluted the departing Pacificans, they had fought honorably throughout the mission, and personally he had thought their commander quite capable from the very beginning despite his charade. Barton of course, had been placed on the mission from the start, the manipulation of the Central Directorate. Even basic cadets understood that to go start a mission without any intelligence would be ridiculous, and so he had been sent to provoke a conflict with the Lindimese leader to test their mettle and fighting capability, and their dedication. Barton’s commlink had done the recording, and it was now on a helicopter back to safekeeping, as was Franklin’s – although both had already sent an encrypted communication home, the commlinks were merely hardcopies. Since his last dispatch before assaulting the compound, he had heard nothing but that Tre had been killed. It was denied that the Linits had accomplished the mission, but Franklin knew. He could never prove it, but he knew it all the same. The look in the Linits’ eyes, their hardcore dedication, it all showed through. He was certainly glad they were on his side.

Franklin watched the men board the second large cargo helicopter; it had been retrofitted with a passenger unit underneath, and was being used to carry all the men and their equipment home. In his estimation, the Star Marines had proved their worth. Orbital insertion certainly worked, and when appropriate commanders were installed – unlike Barton – the units should prove most capable, Colair, Rogov, Beck, the whole lot of them were good solid troops – best of the armed forces perhaps. And they would need it where they were going to end up, out in the cold darkness of space. Franklin saluted the odd Marine who gave one to him, although his current assignment had him in a different branch, tomorrow… who knew… surgery and ID switch and he’d be someone new. But for now, he was a lieutenant in Special Forces.

He strolled over to the Linit Uyse before she took off to who-knows-where. “Good work, ma’am. I’m glad things here all worked out for the best. Sorry about that Barton character, he’ll be dealt with appropriately when I return to the Commonwealth. Hope to work with you again sometime soon. Best of luck with your Prime Minister.” That said, he stood straight and saluted the Linit, and then jumped into the back of the chopper, everything else onboard and secured. He was the last to get off the island. With a slight nudge the rotors sped up and the increased force of life pulled the heavy metal machinery skyward where it soon found itself headed for the Azazian carriers out in the ocean.

Iova, Lindim

Coleridge took the sights in, granted that many of the sights still involved buildings pock-marked with holes left from bullets from the fighting during the Socialist offensive. Occasionally there were burned out or crushed hulks of automobiles and bicycles from the ravages of urban conflict – but he didn’t particularly mind. Lindim would more than likely rise from these ashes like a new-born phoenix. And he was glad to be a part of it.

His limousine, flying little flags of the Commonwealth, pulled up to Iovan International Hospital, where Prime Minister Fuego was still undergoing treatment (ooc: I presume, if this is different he’s at the actual location). His driver opened the door and held it for the ambassador. He nodded his appreciation for the standard, but still polite, gesture and walked briskly into the hospital, flanked by two men in black suits, armed with pistols hidden underneath their jackets – standard diplomatic security personnel. When they entered the complex he looked at the both of them, “When we get to the room, wait outside, gentlemen.” Coleridge led them to the room where Fuego was held, and saw Tirrew present (ooc: again a little presumption, if not it’s not a big deal) and shook the man’s hand.

“Ms. Prime Minister, on behalf of the Emperor and the people of the Commonwealth, I am glad to see you back home, and,” he waved dismissively of the medical instrumentation, “in the promise of a return to good health. We are glad to have been of assistance in your safe retrieval. And of course, we have many things to discuss that require, unfortunately, some immediate attention.” Coleridge waved inside a man who had arrived in a second black vehicle, this time a sedan. Into the room stepped Admiral Sir Charles Atkinson. “General Nuhmi, Admiral Atkinson is the unofficial military liaison until another one is provided to my embassy staff. I have brought him along so you two can discuss the terms of the procurement of a base.” Atkinson smiled to the general and motioned for him to move over to the side for a private conversation.

“Ms. Prime Minister, Mr. Minister of Commerce, both Lindim and the Commonwealth have suffered tremendously and although we may have suffered a more horrific form of attack, our damage is far more limited than that sustained by your people. This leaves us in the position to offer substantial economic and military aid to your people. At this moment, my boss, Minister of Foreign Affairs is holding talks with several major corporations, namely, Breningrad Shipyards, Luxtronics, and Icarus Technologies. They deal respectively with ship construction, electronic infrastructure of various fields, and lastly commercial satellite services. Those of course are private contractors that my government principally deals with. Now, their services won’t come free, however, the Commonwealth is willing to defray most if not all of the costs in exchange for a few treaties and land exchanges.” Coleridge withdrew a folder and handed in to Fuego. Inside were several draft proposals and geographical surveys.

“You’ll see that the Ministry of Foreign Affairs has prepared draft treaties that would initiate several recovery acts. The first, “Coleridge pointed to the first bound report, “would be an economic stimulus package. The initial first stages would call for 1.5 billion Commonwealth Credit grant that would be supplanted with a loan at fixed interest of 3.5% of 3 billion Commonwealth Credits. The loan would of course come with a period of approximately ten years before any repayment would begin.”

“The second stages would be dependent on the assent of your government and the status of the Lindimese recovery. Our aim is to bring back the GDP of Lindim to pre-rebellion levels within the next ten years. If this is not acheieved, then a grant of 750 million Commonwealth Credits and a loan of 1 billion Credits would be proposed by the Commonwealth – again at a fixed rate, however adjusted for inflation, that would be at 5%. Your nation would be free to use these Credits for any intended purpose with any intended company as principal contractor, however, Mr. Valovich is negotiating with Commonwealth-based corporation for reduction in fees assessed against Lindim in return for either direct contracts with your government or a less-drastic reduction for principal sub-contracting work when re-construction contracts go to Lindimese companies.”

“The second major thrust of Commonwealth aid to your nation will be humanitarian relief. This includes temporary shelters and basic food stuffs including fresh water. In addition we will dispatch medicines and medical assistance as well as engineers to firm up your national infrastructure. Given, however, the damage to your infrastructure, its is the analysis of my government that we need to construct several ports and airports for dedicated Commonwealth relief traffic. You’ll find several geographic surveys, maps, and meterological reports attached to the information in the folder, these are the primary sites desired by the Commonwealth for establishment of the aforementioned bases. I will touch on this lightly here, but we are interested in entering into a mutual defense pact, something that we believe would be in your best interest given your reduced defence capabilities. And so to facilitate this mutual defence pact it would be to your advantage to sell us land where the Commonwealth could base ships, aircraft, and men. But let me go on to this pact before I continue.

“The mutual defence pact would be contingent upon the ratification of both our government’s people – either through legislative or popular referendum. This is admittedly in part a move to give the citizens of the Commonwealth more political freedom, and given your democratic traditions we assume that your nation would be in agreement with this. The core of the pact would be defence of the other nation in a war instigated by a belligerent third nation, we come to your aid, you come to ours. Quite simple I believe, however, the length of the agreement is up to negotiation. The initial offer of the Commonwealth is a pact to exist in perpetuity or until the parties agree that it no longer is to their mutual benefit. If this is the case, however, the Commonwealth especially would need to keep forces on immediate call at bases in Lindim. Primarily these would be naval and air bases, ground forces would be minimal given the nature of Lindim’s geography.

“These bases, as Admiral Atkinson is discussing with your general would be either leased or purchased from your government and would act as extra-territoriality on your soil. Primarily we are interested in purchasing two plots of land that would act as major centers of Commonwealth activity, in addition to these would be the leasing of minor facilities more localized to areas receiving Commonwealth assistance. These leases would be for a start of 50 years, then renegotiable after the lease period expires.”

Atkinson shook the hand of Nuhmi in the other corner of the room, “General, I am glad we finally get the chance to meet. As I’m sure you can understand, my presence was required on my ship during the entirety of the situation. Mr. Coleridge has brought me to discuss with you the terms of purchasing and leasing bases from which the Commonwealth will act in its relief missions and later as your partner in your defence through a mutual defence pact. I understand your concerns about nuclear arms, and thus I can tell you outright that with the exception of our fleet of aircraft carrier the base will be a nuclear-free zone. We are in fact, after the events of the battle north of Booni Island considering switching to a new design of cruiser powered by non-nuclear means. However, nuclear energy is more efficient for large carrier operations. This nuclear-free zone would also expand to nuclear weapons, there will be none stored on the bases. Most of the bases will be temporary; I am looking at plans that call for no more than six naval bases and 12 airbases. Two of these naval bases will act as the site of both a naval and an airbase, and my government is interested in purchasing land for these two sites as they will be the major centers of deployment. The plan is that they will act as… sort of like a Gibraltar of the Commonwealth, it’s our territory and we have military personnel on it, but will be follow certain rules that we agree upon such as being a nuclear-free zone. I’m here to answer any questions and concerns you might have; so go ahead. Fire away.”

Fuego sat up in her hospital bed and read through the papers from the ambassador, wondering briefly what Tirrew had said that made Azazia decide Lindim would be an excellent colony of the Commonwealth. Well, they did help us. But then, it was of their own accord. Still, this would benefit both nations, but only on one condition.She called out to Nuhmi.

Nuhmi quickly replied to Atkinson. "We use nuclear-powered vessels ourself, it's not that. The weaponry implementation is what is taboo here." Then he quickly strode over to Fuego and bent down at her bedside table. "Yes, Prime Minister?" he asked quietly.

"What did that admiral tell you?" she whispered in a hoarse voice. It still hurt to talk, from whatever Tre put in her. Fuego had to resist the urge to shudder.

"Essentially, no nuclear weapons will be at any of their bases."

Fuego nodded and leaned back, sighing. You ran for this job. Well, not exactly, but you knew it was coming. "I'll agree to it," she said to Nuhmi softly, and quicklly went on over his raised eyebrow. "Don't worry though, I'll throw in two conditions that should quell any fears of yours."

Turning away from her new Defence Minister she faced the ambassador and smiled. "I appreciate the pledge of aid and will glady accept those terms. However, the issue of mutal defence pact remains. I do agree with you that the pact should exist as long as our two nations see fit. And you are right that this pact needs your bases in our country to work." She couldn't contain herself and smiled openly. "On that note, however, I also believe that an equal number of Lindimese bases must be established in Azazia, at locations of our choosing, so that sometime, at a later date, we may be able to repay the favor in defence of your honourable country. Let us hope, however, that such an unfortunate event does not happen for quite so time. I assure you it is most unpleasant." Fuego removed her reading glasses and suddenly felt a strong desire to drink coffee. You've become addicted to it. Not that that's such a bad thing, but... "If you agree to all these conditions, then I will be happy to sign any treaty drawn up."

OOC:
Would you like me to outline my military aid here, or should I just leave it that we'll protect you?

OOC: If a crisis ever comes up, then the military outline will be needed, but for now, simply assume a mutual defence pact between us, like the one with Azazia minus the bases.

Coleridge nodded at Fuego’s conditions not exactly sure if the Commonwealth would accept them carte blanche, for one there was now the divisive issue of nuclear-powered vessels in Commonwealth waters. His friends at Defence were informing him of plans to rebuild the Royal Navy to run ships off primarily non-nuclear fuels. “Madam Prime Minister, if that is to be the case, then I’m sure you would understand the Commonwealth’s hesitancy to have nuclear-powered ships in the immediate environs of the Commonwealth, given the utter destruction at Carthage. We would allow perhaps carrier powered by nuclear fuels, but all other ships utilizing such power plants will no longer be granted access to Commonwealth seas.” Coleridge dug around for another set of papers, “If that’s acceptable Ms. Prime Minister than I must depart to assist in drawing up the formal treaty.”

oc: Give me some time and I will make a threat announcing the treaty and all that associated jazz

Fuego nodded and smiled. Sad that such destruction had to happen for them to realize the danger of nuclear science, but at least we have an anti-nuclear ally. That's like what, our second? "I understand completely," she said with sympathy, "and I assure you, we will only based diesel and electric powered vessels at the bases."