NationStates Jolt Archive

Tabu Colonel Rashne Khortdad considered the map display hovering over his desk. There was nothing surprising about it – many times he had considered the map of Antarctica and the nations upon it. Lately, he had been considering it all the more often, but with recovery, not conquest, on his mind.

Operation: Polar Thunder had begun as a method of controlling and reversing the spread of polar bears across Antarctica. As the spread left controllability, the operational goals had changed from “Control the spread of polar bears” to “Defend from polar bear incursion… and loot the victims”.

So far, it had worked; far beyond the original, modest plans for some gains, Vastiva had… acquired the full material wealth of not one, but three nations. Everything not nailed down had been taken – what was nailed down, the nails were removed. What wasn’t needed in Vastiva, was being sold via the Internet as “surplus”. The clothing sales alone threatened to eclipse VALOREC’s yearly income from pushing crude oil onto the international market.

The current joke: “How do you commit the ultimate bank job? Take the whole bank”.

Rashne had expected an outcry from the region, to be shut down in a few months. Instead, he had been given regional honors for his work in “Restoring the Natural Beauty of Antarctica”.

“Restoring the Natural Beauty of Antarctica” was proving to be very, very profitable.

And, grinned Rashne, a definite step towards the Generalship.

He tapped one key; a list appeared and hovered before him.


*The Democratic Republic of Relorin
*The Queendom of Intellectuala
*The Empire of Taun Taun
*The Protectorate of BlueIceia
*The Queendom of Crystal Dorm
*The Grand Duchy of Polardia
*The Traditional Land of Japanese Artica
The Dictatorship of Thornapplebison
The Republic of Orchomenos
The People's Republic of Duck Moss
The Incorporated States of Umbrella-Inc
The Holy Republic of Episcopalia
The Borderlands of Mist and Fog
The Empire of The Light Heroes
The Rogue Nation of Southern-Antarctica
The Community of Divine Panda
The Protectorate of Hammerite Sanctur
The Free Land of Mellowan
The Rogue Nation of Rishadan Port
The Free Land of Tokonup
The Holy Worship of Pual
The Empire of Agnostic Vegetarians
The Empire of Rains
The Libertarian Nudist Colony of Orthodox Defenestrater
The Democratic Republic of Phischlandia
The Democratic States of Jangia
The Dictatorship of Phischkillers
The Fiefdom of Hooke
The Democratic Republic of Winchestertinfieldvile
The Empire of Achnul Suluch
The Oppressed Peoples of The Village Too
The Federation of Progressive Societies
The Commonwealth of Ashkeloh IX
The Usurper States of Mocea
The Evil Conservatives of Paxania
The Holy Republic of Arthurs saviors
The Jingoistic States of 21st Century America
The Dominion of Black Science Institut
The Grand Duchy of Mahbaar
The Commonwealth of Rosshore
The Science Fiction Collective of Sacria
The Science Fiction Collective of Sacria (clone)
The Holy Empire of Ben-Malleus
The Commonwealth of Anarco-Aptenodytes
The Federation of Halberdanger
The Republic of Persefone
The People's Republic of Finne Land
The Oppressed Peoples of Pina_Colada_burg


Another tap, and the first seven filled in with a deep blue. The remainder colored green.

“Seven down, profit to go..." He gave a cruel chuckle. "Not nice to speak ill of the dead. Alright then. Thank you all for dying today."

In the end, it came down to a choice between two, and a coin toss. The small silver chubat came up with the flame and triangle showing.

Colonel Khortdad’s trac-balls spun; the 3D pointer came a stop.

With a click, one country changed to blood.

Sece Emmitia - The Seat of the Empire - Wednesday, 3-12-1204
[Emmitian Calendar]

The Pirokajuon of Emmitia, Nicanor Angelicus Victor, stood behind a wooden podium, plain except for the banner of the Empire draped over the front. With the microphone pulled up towards him, the Pirokajuon was in the middle of a speech. Behind him was a black, seemingly-prefabricated police checkpoint. The Imperial Government had just signed into being the police bill which placed checkpoints around key areas in the city in order to identify certain undesirables.

The event was reported to be happening on the Six AM news and was likely to be reported on during the Six PM and Twelve AM news. That would mean the Twelve PM is covering it live. Therefore, many of the citizens of Emmitia had stopped work in order to watch the telecast. They saw the Pirokajuon, he was a slender man, though not necessarily thin. Tall, he easily stood over the podium. A slight beard had grown, darkening his fourty-eight year old chin and cheek.

With such an open event, perhaps it was more of a curse that people knew. For at that very moment, the group called simply the Liberty Rebels had gathered together and planned the Pirokajuon's assassination. From a private flat across the large square, a single man slid the scope onto the top of a high-powered rifle. Adjusting for wind and other such variables, he placed the Pirokajuon's temple within his sights. He was nervous; perhaps he was a rebel, but he certainly didn't want to become a martyr. He should have denied the job, but it didn't matter now. He needed to compl --

"Would you like a sugar cookie?" the nice old woman that had allowed him to use her apartment for the assassination (without any knowledge of what was going to happen, oddly enough) had barged into the room at the point, exactly when the man was taking aim. Already spooked about even committing such a crime, the man was surprised. He jumped and panic took in. In his fear, his hand moved the gun and squeezed the trigger.

Behind the Pirokajuon stood his Imperial Guardsmen. Faithful troops - they were the best trained of any of the Emmitian Imperial Army soldiers. They would give their life for the Emperor. And so it was that one was forced to do just that, for a gun report sounded in the very top window of the flat building. Within a second, an Imperial Guardsmen was stuck in the throat. His corrodid was split in two and blood hissed like a semi-blocked garden hose from his injury. He grasped it and fell to the ground.

Chaos ensued. The remaining Imperial Guardsmen took the Pirokajuon to his bulletproof transport and formed around it, afraid of a carbomb or something of the like. Perhaps if that happened they could shoot the driver.

Cetsifon - Same Day - One Hour Later

The Rebels had struck in many major cities. Rostovka, for a while, was a battlezone. Melitopol's city hall was nearly overrun by the mob. Anyone who even seemed to be with the Rebels was herded up in Sece Emmitia and escorted to Joy Camps in the mountains.

Cestifon was no different. Fifteen minutes after the assassination attempt had failed, the Liberty Rebels gathered in the streets. An Imperial Police APC drove up to them from the west, on Weiss Street. A man in a black uniform and riot helmet, with the tan-orange arm-band of the Imperial Police stepped out with a microphone. He raised it to his lips.

"In the Name of the Emperor! You are to cease and desist all protests immidately. You are engaged in an unlawful gathering. This is your final warning. You have five minutes to -- "

A gunshot.

The man was down.

The policemen rushed out of the back of the APC at the sound and formed a defensive perimeter around the likely now dead man. With their riot shields they formed a walla around him, as to protect them from bullets. It was not unlike the Roman Legions approaching a fort. Some policemen further in cried worriedly into he radio: "They've opened fire! They've opened fire! Man down.."

Not more than ten miles from Cetsifon was the Veriti Army Base. One of the premier army bases in Emmitia, it now geared for what seemed to be a war against its own populace. The commander had tuned the radio in to the intercom. With gun reports blaring over any voices, and groans of dying men, little else was heard.

The commander mobilized a mechanized battalion. Fifteen of the nation's limited supplies of BMP's were readied for action, and their drivers were put in place. They lined up in a row in the base's courtyard. With the blare of a horn, the troops crowded into their carriers, and they were sped off.

Thoughout the trip, there was silence. They looked towards the city of Cetsifon from their gunports and could see flames arising. Faint gunshots could be heard as the police battled with the rebels. Cetsifon had been, they all figured out a tad too late, one of the most important cities for the rebels. Anarchy had arisen within the city, and the police forces were in retreat. In more than one district, police buildings were besieged. People stayed inside their houses and mothers held their children, praying that the violence would soon be over.

Then, the BMP units entered the city. Upon the lieutenant colonel's command, the troops disembarked the transports and moved with the IFV's in the streets. Their first objective was to relieve the police at three of the regional city headquarters. Their second, was to liberate the city.

Sece Emmitia - Seat of the Empire - Wednesday - Six Hours Later

The Emperor was bombarded by commanders informing him that blank city had fallen to the Imperial Army, or blank rebel division was wiped out. Cetsifon had fallen an hour ago. It was now time that the Emperor took further action. It was well known that the Liberty Rebels had favored a type of democratic government. A Republic which would live in Emmitia. He had read about the democracies of past, knew that the Senate was prevalent in them.

The Imperial Senate..

He never liked them. He saw them as greedy, power-mongers. And so, he called into power one of his, and his predecessor's unused abilities as Pirokajuon. An Emergency Seizure of the Imperial Senate.

--

The Senate was called into session. They waited for perhaps fifteen minutes for the Pirokajuon. At the end of those fifteen, an Imperial Guard captain, with about fifty armed men behind him, burst into the room through the Senat chamber doors. The men took up positions around the senate floor and upper rampart, holding their rifles across their chest.

The captain barked with a semi-important air, "In the name of the Pirokajuon, you are all under arrest for conspiring against the state, the church, and the Pirokajuon himself. Surrender now and there will be no bloodshed."

A senator arose: "This is preposterous! We are the most loyal citizens of the Empire alive today!"

The captain snorted a bit, "If that is so, why are the Liberty Rebels fighting in your name? Arrest them!" The soldiers closed in on the senators, and within moments, the old men were beaten down to stop their resistance, and arrested. They were led outside of the senate building, brought before a kangaroo court just outside and sentenced to life in prison, with the Pirokajuon's order as the only hope of parole.

With the Senate dissolved for the moment, Martial Law declared in Emmitia, and the remainents of the Liberty Rebellion nearly crushed, the day gave into night.

Sece Emmitia - Seat of the Empire - Friday - 4-15-1204
One month later

Uneasily, the Pirokajuon had lifted the Martial Law order, though was ready to put it in place at any time. The police force had been hurt, but not devastated. Most of the repairs on the cities had been completed. Troikas roamed the countryside and city blocks searching for ex-members of the Liberty Rebels, and executing them. The Senate was about to be put back into power. Do not let the name "prison" fool the reader - it was much more like a resort community.

It was at that day that the Pirokajuon was approached by a member of the Imperial Intelligence Service, with important information. The Republic of Persefone had been assisting and aiding these rebels. It had long since gone defunct, only a fitting end to those who help terrorists, but the information on the Liberty Rebels remained in their government vaults. The IIS had previously stated that the Liberty Rebels had bases in several countries and many secret bases in Emmitia, therefore it was absolutely critical that the Emmitian Imperial Army recover these documents.

Melitopol - Monday - 4 - 25 - 1204
An oil tanker had recently been commandeered. Fitted with military equipment, it was not only to be used to compliment the troop carrier in carrying men, but also as a hospital ship. The Emmitian Cruiser PS ERNST was assigned as an escort, but it was doubted that such a cruiser was needed. That was fitted out with the necessary supplies for a short journey such as this and placed with a suitable company of men. It was waiting in Emmitian waters now.

At the moment, three Emmitian Airborne Infantry helicopters, MI-17's, with pilot and troops and sufficient fuel, were placed on the top of the oil tanker, strapped down in case of the nasty event of a storm. Not like it would do much - but it was better than nothing. BMP's and T-80's were placed into the troop carriers, along with their crews. The fighting troops, those with rifles and bayonets, were herded onto the oil tanker, to sleep in the halls and be crammed in everywhere. Of course, they had to put some in the troop transport as well, but there were not many.

Emmitia left the port at Melitopol with the following..

4 T-80's
8 BMP-1's
2 BMP-2's
3 MI-12's
1,000 fighting men (not including logistics, support, administration).

w/ sufficient food, ammunition, fuel, and logistics to carry such a force over the span of a "minor" mission such as this.

Sure, it would likely be a small strain on the Emmitian government to do such a thing, it was new. But, the Pirokajuon was confident that the bugs would be worked out, and even such a force would not be needed. He was confident that the MI-17's could simply sweep in, get into the four government vaults, and escape without any weapon exchanges..But in case there was, the Army was prepared.

And, with these, the Emmitian Imperial Army and Navy left from Melitopol, north, to the The Republic of Persefone.

The 1206th Combat Engineer Division had undergone a renaissance over the last year.

Originally a survivor of Vastiva’s part in Operation: Brimstone, it had been returned to Vastiva with honors, refitted and rearmed just in time for The Queendom of Intellectuala to fall. Orders had come down from no lesser personage then the General herself – Stop the Bears. Preserve Vastiva!

The 1206th had been chosen to answer the call.

In the year following, its membership had become adept polar bear hunters; armed with a wide variety of UAVs and UAHs and no small amount of armor, the 1206th was now considered a crack spearhead in the war against the bears – and for the betterment of Vastiva’s bank accounts.

Sirdar Cerus van der Valken continued to sip hot coffee from his silvered travel mug while the rest of his officers finished fetching fresh fruit, bagels, and bignets before milling to their seats. His thumb caressed the thirty-eight parallel scratches in the side of his mug until the last one sat.

He stood.

“Gentlemen. Our objective this time is the The Republic of Persefone.”

~holodisplays sprang to life before each officer~

“As you can see from these OVERSIGHT projections, the population of six hundred million has been decimated; it has been nearly three months since our scouts examined the area. Because of their theocratic beliefs, there were no zoos or the like to draw our early attention.

"The blowover of the recent hurricaine will allow a few days of reasonably clear weather. Yes, gentlemen, it will still be dark - it is winter, after all - but we expect clear skies and temperatures to be more reasonable."

"Reasonable?"

"Mid to low -50s, no precipitation, winds down to a more seasonable 30 knots or so. From the South, of course." An old Antarctican joke - 90% of the winds came 'from the south', as they were at the pole.

"Ah."

Sirdar Cerus van der Valken continued “We do not believe there are many survivors; any who exist are probably barricaded in the many churches throughout the area.”

“How many churches?” Risaldar Dalmas’ voice carried through the stillness.

“We estimate there to be one church for every two thousand citizens.”

“Ahh, so ka,” answered Dalmas. “That explains all the white buildings.”

“If I may continue?” van der Valken’s voice glassed the room to silence. “The bears have mostly finished with this area, though they are still reasonably active in most of the rest of the remains of the nation. We will start with the city of Eerdmans: it has an unexploited natural port, several tracts flat enough for ersatz airways to be constructed, and – most importantly – it is somewhat isolated by these hilly and mountainous areas on one, meaning it can be controlled for our purposes. It is also only a short distance from the Trans-Antarctic Highway, the distance between either we control or is part of no-mans land.

“UAVs and UAHs will be used for early scouting: drones will clear out any pockets and a defensive perimeter will be gained before we move in. Once the bears have been disrupted, we should be able to commence normal operations.”

“Aren’t we close to several other nations?” Several nodded at Risaldar Bristol’s words.

Van der Valken shrugged. “We have been before, we will be again. We do this with the… blessings of the region, to ‘restore the natural beauty of Antarctica’.”

A mild chuckle ran through the room.

“First line troops are going to clear buildings first in this outlying area, then towards the middle as the areas are denuded of ursines. Engineers will first repair and recharge the road, connecting it to Vastiva’s power grid for de-icing. Then we start the… “beautification” process.”

Another chuckle as the display changed and the briefing continued.

Melitopol - Monday - 4 - 25 - 1204

"Return to port," the radio chattled, in the bridge of the tanker renamed the PS VICTOR. "You are hereby unauthorized to continue into international waters, by the order of the Patriarch."

With these orders, the small fleet made an about turn and returned to port. It was there, for two days, that the fleet stood. On the third day, in the morning, an army marched through the streets. At the head of it was Ferelon Meyael, son of the Honorable Patriarch of the Emmitian Church, Patriarch Mayeon. The men trodding through the streets in marching order were nine-thousand men in combat uniforms, AK-47's on their shoulders. They saluted the crowd as they went by. Tanks and BMP's followed, their main guns raised into the air in a form of armored salute. Every few blocks, a band tapped out the marching cadence and the blaring trumpets of the Emmitian battle hymn.

The young man lept from the vehicle carrying him. He was a very tall man - 6'5 by inches - with curly black hair and somewhat tanned skin. "Khozain, Captain," he said with a tint of arrogance, "The Honorable Patriarch, my father, and backed by the Pirokajuon himself, has decided that I am to lead this expedition." In reality, the Patriarch simply appointed him, as he was friends with the Army Marshal.

"My troops are fresh from the Severus Augustus Training Camp to the south. They number nine-thousand fighting men, each with a rifle and ammunition and supplies to last them two days stranded, and five clips of ammunition. I bring with me fifty of our Pirokajuon's finest T-80 tanks and crews, as well as seventy BMP's of varying models." Mayael turned his nose up to the previous commander, proud of the forces at his back.

The previous commander, Lieutenant Colonel Kosecu, stared wide eyed at the arrogant brat. "We have neither the manpower nor the logistics in order to support your force."

Mayael's face reddened. "Then commandeer ships, and goods, and do what you have to, Lieutenant."

"Lieutenant Colonel, with all respect. And just what rank are you?" Kosecu expected a major, for some unreasonable reason.

"I am, as of today, the Supreme Commander of the Emmitian War against Terrorism." Mayael grinned a self-important, proud grin. "See that it is done. I wish to set out tomorrow."The new Supreme Commander lept in his jeep and left for his arranged quarters in the city of Melitopol.

It was not only a challenge to quarter the men for the night, it was also a challenge to gather up the transport room to bring a force of ten-thousand fighting men, fifty-four T-80's, and eighty BMP's. Kosecu himself thought it was a waste of manpower. It would take five minutes to get those MI-17's to the vaults, have the engineers blow a hole in them, and take the necessary documents. Obviously a hyperbole, but not that far off..

The Emmitian Imperial Army and Navy were forced to commandeer two more ships. The PS OCTOBER and AUGUST were placed in the harbor with conscripted sailors. The tanks and BMP's were loaded in, as were the troops. While the OCTOBER was a pure cargo liner - a car manufacturing ship, from Emmitia's booming industry of such, and could just manage to support the amount of armor placed inside, as well as the crew, the AUGUST was a minor cruise liner.

The "minor" cruise liner held the nine-thousand extra troops comfortably, including engineers. The sailors there were also conscripted, and they were all promised a bounty from the Pirokajuon himself, should they all fulfill their duties to a satisfactory degree. Sailors were also called to another cruiser, the PS PIUS, which left the port on schedual, the next day, with the troops.


Melitopol - Tuesday - 4 - 26 - 1204

Mayael met with his commanders in the bridge of the PIUS. A map of the Persephonian Republic was placed on the map, with the names of several cities and geographical features printed on them.

"The four cities we will have to hit are Ardemmen, Eerdmans, Alhum, and Tacmens. Eerdmans will be difficult. It's isolated, and far from the rest of the cities. Ardemmen, however, is simpler. It's located somewhat inland, but the natural harbor to the south serves as it's port. We can land there, set up a supply base, and unload our troops. We can quickly take Ardemmen, the necessary papers, and load them on our ships. Alhum is to the east. Old roads connect the two cities, but I wouldn't count on them. They're likely covered in snow. Use your compasses and don't forget to bring something warm, the temperatures go far below anything we've been trained in the Severnaya Tundra."

"How far below?" asked one of the commanders.

"Negative fifty.." another one muttered.

"Khozain! How will our troops be able to survive?" the first commander cried.

"They have heavy lamb-skin jackets, hats and some re-usable heat packs. Thats pretty much all the Pirokajuon is spending on this." Mayael detailed.

"For the love of..So, saying we get our troops past the frozen hell, and take Alhum, what then?"

"We blast through that vault, send the papers away, and carry on to Tacmens. It's far closer. Should be no trouble. This entire region, really, has little mountains. These are mostly snow plains..except for an area between Tacmens and Alhum, but that ought to be no trouble. The real mountains come in near Eerdmans. We'll have to get through the passes there and into the city. We'll move along the coast, and have the ships supplying us on the way."

The meeting ended, and the week itself ended with the Persefonian coast arising from the horizon, the horrible, dark, white coasts.

"Deconstruction" began once the forward teams had cleared out a two block long, three block wide area – the sewers had been French fried then planted with mines and autodrone guns; the bears would not be coming through that route. This gave the Engineers a block worth of "clear area", protected by autodrones, in which to work.

Everyone still carried weapons. Sentries were still posted.

Two T-105A tanks "stood guard", with four SV-90 IFVs playing roving patrol and four CV-90P APCs set as mobile "warmhouses". The six Polar Bears were all armed with 40mm miniguns at the least; one mounted a rocket pod, "just in case".

Tomorrow, the Engineers would arrive, and begin taking out, apart, and down the various habitations. A flood of trucks would head to and from Vastiva, carrying the wealth of a nation.

All in order to "Restore the Beauty of Antarctica".

OOC: Vastiva uses the Polar Bear, a LAV roughly equivalent to a Humvee, with more cargo capacity and a stronger engine. This is our standard transport. We don't "arm bears" :D

The small fleet of ships pulled up against he coast of the dock of the city of Ardemmen. Codenamed by Mayael as "Mayael Village", the majority of the town was well within sight. It had taken a while for the ships to cut through the hunks of ice floating through the water in such cold weather - especially with the everlasting night at their heels. Their hulls pushed aside some pieces of ice and cut through others, but there wasn't entirely too much as to prevent a landing.

The ramp which acted as a loading bay for the PS OCTOBER was lowered. Four BMP's, two with the tank-like maingun configuration (the BMP 1's) and two with a more rapid firing cannon (the BMP 2's) were driven into the water. As the BMP is designed as an amphibious combat IFV, it managed to float in the chilled water. However, the designer obviously had no idea as to the dynamics or existance of propellers, as the BMP's had none. Instead, they used their tracks to tread through the water, almost like paddles.

They were not one minute into the water when the crews of the OCTOBER tried desperately to close the cargo door - a -50 degree night is perhaps not the best night to be standing without incredible protection and heat. No doubt - the troops in the BMP's and the crews themselves were likely freezing as well, but at least their jackets and heat packs provided some protection.

The PIUS scanned the nearby radio lines.

"La ce numesi Pirokajuon, setucu nekiscul tali? Gadagate, votesi." For what seemed to be like hours, they tried the nearby radio channels for any sort of response or sign of life. They repeated that same phrase over and over again, as the BMP's made their way to shore.

From the smoke launcher of the BMP, a flare was fired. It shot up into the air and burst into a terribly white, brilliant flame. The ground below was lit with a cold, synthetic light, simply to reveal a town nearly in ruins, and deserted all the more. A BMP commander arose from his top hatch and shouted out:

"Setucu nekiscul tali? Gadagate!" Silence. The commander gave the order to continue, and within moments, the BMP crews were on the "beaches" nearby the town. The small squadron and the BMP's quickly secured the port against any sort of incusion by some enemy force. They had not yet learned of the polar bears..

The Incorporated States of Umbrella-Inc

OOC: Is that me?

OOC: Is that me?

OOC: No clue. Did your populace get eaten by bears? =P

Nah, I don't think it's you. Wouldn't be surprised if other people had the name with Umbrella Corp. in it too. I'd talk to Vastiva about it, though, if it's really gotten you steamed for some reason.

OOC: Is that me?

OOC: Most likely not, unless you had a puppet in Antarctica which went defunct. All the names were acquired that way.

Ironically, the war itself was begun by a drone.

UAV 1206-4232-4229-8763-DDVX-A was on routine patrol on the borders of the new city - SOP for the 1206th was to keep a drone perimeter to notify the troops if any new bears were entering - or old bears were leaving.

At 22:18:36, DDVX-A reported on twenty large masses and sixteen smaller ones approaching the city. UV cameras recorded blurry masses moving slowly, but determinedly.

At 22:18:51, the AIHQ DDVX-A was assigned to finished considering the views sent - through the filters of what it's Vastivan handlers had assigned as "probable" and gave DDVX-A a series of IFF codes to broadcast.

DDVX-A complied, but by 22:24:58 there had been no affirmative reply - in fact, noted DDVX-A, several of the masses were now moving apart. As the pack split up, the bears would become more and more difficult to track and follow.

At 22:25:07, the command for "Weapons:Hot" and "Engage" were received.

Immediately, DDVX-A chose one of the larger masses and fired a stream of 20mm hypervelocity SPI shells from one of it's two mounted 20mm Typhoon cannons into it's center. Rewarded with what it's limited processers regarded as a bellow of pain, it chose a second target and repeated the process, noting the location of probable hits, the sudden appearance of light in the area, and the mobility of the smaller masses - usually a sign of routing bears.

All contact with DDVX-A was lost at 22:29:14. The AIHQ marked it down to probable equipment failure following aerial engagement, given environmental conditions, and an engineer team was assigned to recover the drone the next day.

What the AIHQ nor it's handlers would know for some time was a matter of mass - what was left of DDVX-A could be safely recovered in several baggies, if one looked hard enough through the scatter pattern.