NationStates Jolt Archive

War Room, Supercarrier Leviathan (2nd Fleet), undisclosed location in the Red Sea.

“You are sure all units are ready?”

“Yes, Divine One, everything. The troops are eager for blood. They have been exhaustively trained in desert combat and are prepared to fight insurgents, if it comes to that.”

“If I had left it up to you, Supreme Commander, it would. But I have taken steps that will greatly reduce any risk of a guerrilla war.”

“My Lord’s wisdom is truly as all-encompassing as the gods themselves.”

“Silence.”

“As my Lord wishes.”

“I have no time to wait on your useless words, Supreme Commander. Ensure the plan is complete, and transmit the signal to all units. I expect that Operation Black Gold will be a success.”

***
Ballistic missile submarine Perdition (2nd Fleet), undisclosed location in the Red Sea.

Captain Valt hurried to the hatch, determined to reach the command room before his crew. Donning his hat and hurriedly buttoning the top button of his black dress uniform, he pushed inside, a frown quickly stifled as he saw that he was the last person there. Turning to the comm officer, he asked, “Well, Lieutenant, what’s the situation?” The young woman replied, “Sir, I’m getting a message over the command frequency. It’s from the Leviathan, sir.” At once the Captain came fully awake, and only vaguely heard himself say, “Send it to me, Lieutenant, and start monitoring comm traffic from the enemy. Lieutenant Verdillion, prepare missiles for launch.” Not waiting for the response, he turned to his handheld and opened the message Lieutenant Grenn had forwarded to him. As she said, it was from the Leviathan, the flagship of the 2nd Fleet...and the command center for naval activities during Operation Black Gold. Trembling slightly in anticipation, he waited for the decryption, and when it came read it twice to make sure.

March through the fire, Typhon, and you will conquer. It was from Twilight of the Gods, the Imperial holy book, and the passage quoted was known by everyone in the Empire above age three. It was followed by a message directed at him.

“Captain Valt, you will launch thirty-six cruise missiles at Saudi territory no more than five minutes after you read this message. The coordinates for these targets are in the first group below. Be advised that the 2nd Fleet will begin bombardment within two hours after the missiles are launched. Immediately after you have fired those missiles, prepare and launch all missiles that have graphite bomb warheads at the second group of coordinates below. After that, rendezvous with the fleet at the preassigned coordinates.”
“Okay,” he muttered, before beginning to carry out his orders. “Lieutenant Verdillion, launch 36 SSM’s at the coordinates I’m sending to you.” Valt forwarded the target coordinates to him and continued his orders. “Once you’ve done that, fire all the graphite missiles at the targets in the second group. Make sure that each target receives about the same number of missiles. Sub-Lieutenant Marcus, bring us about and take us to the rendezvous point. And move like you got a purpose. GO!”

The cruise missiles were directed at several military bases and key transportation locations, like train stations. Several of them were in flight towards the airports in Najran and Qal’at Bishah, which would cripple Saudi operations in the south; they were the only civilian airports for miles. The military bases with airfields were also high-priority targets, and the submarine Vanisher had fired its missiles at all known Saudi bases in the southwest. The graphite missiles were of a type employed in the Gulf War to knock out 90% of Iraqi electricity; once the missiles hit, minute threads of graphite would settle over the area, knocking out the power. Aside from a few of these fired at major cities like Mecca and At Ta’if to cause chaos, these were pointed at communications centers in the region. Even now, the 4th Armored Division and the 21st Army were crossing the rough border into the Saudi deserts, and the High Command was determined that the Saudis wouldn’t know about it for hours, much less mount a counterattack. Of course, many if not most of the Saudi troops in the area would survive. That wasn’t the point of the attack. The point was to get the vanguard force into Saudi Arabia unmolested. So far, the plan was working perfectly.

***
C-5 Galaxy transport plane, 4th Air Wing, over Najran

Commander Hyrek Vasraad shouted to his troops, “Okay, men, we got the signal! Let’s move out!” The ramp of the plane slowly lowered, and even before it stopped moving Hyrek threw himself out, plummeted for a few exhilarating moments, and deployed his parachute. Over the roar of the wind he couldn’t hear his troops doing the same, but he knew they were. He looked down at the city and saw the fires surrounding the airport. As he fell lower and lower, he began to listen to the planes above. A squadron of B-2 bombers were dropping tons of explosives on the city, causing eruptions of spectacular flames. He could see the flashes as the tanks of the 4th Armored Division pounded the buildings, and more vehicles dropped from the cargo planes above. Saudi forces were mustering a defense, but his troops and those in the other C-5s were here to change that.
As he touched down, he disconnected his parachute and ran forward, his men following. He barked, “Troops, organize by squad! Spread out and go street by street!” Obeying instantly, the Legionaries got into squads of twelve and began combing the city. The bombing soon confined itself to Saudi-held areas, with friendlies on the ground.
His squad made good progress, but was soon stopped by a low wall with machine guns mounted on it. Pulling out a handheld radio, he calmly called for air support. Soon, helicopter gunships swooped down, and with a few rockets, blasted the wall to hell. Hyrek heard a rumbling and looked back to see a pair of Leopard 2 tanks roll down the street, blasting apart a squad of enemy troops. A voice came over the radio: “-repeat, all commanders, there is an ammo cache in the southwest quadrant, slightly east of a blue mosque. It is heavily defended. The nearest squad has to take it out!”
Nodding, Hyrek motioned his troops in that direction. They couldn’t touch the mosque-orders from high up had made that clear-but somebody evidently thought they would. A hail of bullets rattled in from the left and front, killing two. “Down!” Hyrek yelled, and hit the deck himself, though he looked around for the source of the fire. He saw a gun protrude from a pile of rubble and he primed a grenade, threw it, and blew the man apart.
Under covering fire from half of his squad, the other half made their way to the dump, planted explosives, and got the hell out of there. Again, Hyrek tuned in to the radio, just as a thunderous explosion brought the dump (and unfortunately the mosque) down. “All squads in southwestern street, head to the main street and be ready to finish these assholes off.” Not waiting for more, Hyrek ordered his troops back to the main street.
After two more hours of mop-up work, the city was theirs, and due to their overwhelming air superiority, they had suffered less than eighty casualties. Hyrek, exhausted but exhilarated, surveyed the burning fires. They hurt his eyes, being framed by the dark Saudi night, but he looked anyway. They had won the city fair and square, and they would do the same again and again. They, the vanguard, had accomplished their mission, and the main Imperial force would come soon, and they would continue their advance. Until then, Hyrek was more than happy to sit back, relax, and rest.

***
City of Al Hufuf, east of Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.

As another squad of Legionaries scrambled off their troop transports, the battle began to swing in the favor of Subaltern Titus of clan Anor. His men scrambled from one stretch of cover to another, firing as they went. Titus hurled a frag grenade and was rewarded by its explosion and a pair of screams. Suddenly standing up, he fired his assault rifle at the Saudis, a trio of bursts, and got down again as bullets whizzed over his head. A muffled boom close by, followed by two more, represented the trio of Ravager tanks as they blasted apart the heavy machine guns that had slaughtered two squads foolish enough to try to charge. As the Saudis returned fire with anti-tank rockets, and a pair of A-10 Thunderbolt fighter-bombers strafed the ground with bullets, an idea struck Titus. He gave an order on his radio, and as a tank crumpled under a pair of rockets, he made his move. Hurling a pair of flash-bang grenades towards the main enemy formation, he was gratified to see that the troops near him did the same, as per his orders. As he yelled, “CHARGE!”, he saw a squad burst out from behind a rock and sprint towards the enemy, screaming war-chants that shook Titus to his core, even though these were his allies. War-Priests, of the lethal and barbaric Order of Korne. Pulling out his sidearm as the War-Priests had, he followed them and began firing blindly into the clearing smoke. He could soon see Saudi troops rubbing their eyes or clutching their heads, regaining their senses. Too late. The Thunderbolts were back, and they blasted apart the anti-tank soldiers, freeing the Ravagers to rumble forward, their gun barrels belching smoke and light as they hurled shell after shell into the Saudi ranks, who were now stumbling away from the carnage, but the War-Priests caught up to them. They did everything they were trained to do.
But hours later, the city was still not in Imperial hands. Guerrillas occupied a third of the city, mostly the industrial zones. The sun had fully risen, and it was a sure bet the Saudi commanders knew what was going on by now. The air superiority that on the other side of the peninsula had secured Najran was about to be challenged. They had swept all before them for a time, but no longer. On the other hand, Titus had heard that other than the Legions being prepared to follow the vanguard force into Saudi Arabia, thousands of the best troops in the Empire, the Immortals, were being readied for war. With them, it was win or lose, no grey areas. And Immortals did not lose.

***Being monitored carefully by New Tiamatian inteligence***

***Being monitored carefully by New Tiamatian inteligence***
Hey, go ahead. I've got nothing to hide... ;)

OOC: This is my first war thread, actually...so if there are any criticisms or compliments, express them please!

OOC: Um. You write a lot. This is good, but also bad. I can't be bothered to explain why, so work it out.

EDIT: I don't write a lot.

OOC: For a first time this is great, you'll make a good rper, other than that you took my piece of land, guess I'm gonna have to find a new colony.

*tag*

OOC: For a first time this is great, you'll make a good rper, other than that you took my piece of land, guess I'm gonna have to find a new colony.

OOC: Sorry... :( and round two of three is coming up. Sorry it wasnt earlier but my computer was being insolent.

City of Mecca, Saudi Arabia

Commander Daskar, mentally intoning a prayer to the Destroyer god, scrambled up the ruined stairs. From the top of the building, he and his squad could sweep the area of the Saudi forces holding the cul-de-sac. Creeping up behind the enemy sniper, Daskar slid his combat knife silently free of its sheath. Suddenly, he leaped forward, cut the man’s throat, and dragged the body down behind the low wall around the rooftop, before anyone noticed. Waving his men forward, he attached a night-vision scope to his SG-552 assault rifle. Immediately he saw a pair of Saudis, each holding an RPG launcher, hiding behind a pile of rubble and invisible to the Imperial troops advancing steadily up the street. Two short bursts, and they fell.
Suddenly, he heard a whoosh from behind him as one of his men launched a missile at one of the Saudi tanks. The metal crumpled and smoke spiraled up, but it survived, and swung its turret toward the roof! Daska yelled something incomprehensible, and tried to run back down the steps, but he heard an explosion behind him and the force hurled him into the air, and with a wet smack, his body slammed back down.

Such squads as Daskar’s were doing their work throughout the city, covertly blasting apart enemy tanks and infantry that the main force couldn’t reach. In the air above, five squadrons of Imperial Saab Viggen fighters were dueling with the Saudi air defenses scrambled from those few airfields that had escaped the pounding delivered by Imperial missiles before the invasion started. Imperial air superiority was taking its toll, and with this huge advantage the Legions had claimed the southwest and the eastern coast, and both wings of the army would begin, as soon as Mecca was conquered, to converge on Riyadh.

Colonel Dominicus Sadow hurled a grenade, and charged as soon as it exploded, taking out a Saudi rocket sniper hiding in some rubble from the ruined hotel ahead. Giving the all clear on his radio, he waved his squad forward, firing at a dark shape that looked like it was holding a gun, and was rewarded by a scream. At his signal, three huge Ravager tanks rolled around the corner and began pounding hell out of the whole street. Dominicus’ squad fell back, as shell after shell blasted gaping holes in any cover the Saudis might be using. Suddenly, a barrage of machine gun fire erupted from the windows in the hotel. He put in a request to the bombardment team outside the city, got behind the tanks, and waited. Right on time, two shells from the mortars outside the city arced over them and slammed into the hotel. The tanks and his squad continued their march up the street as if nothing had ever halted their progress. Soon they found themselves halted by a brick wall across the alley they were taking to the central square, but Dominicus only grinned, jumped up and grabbed the edge, and pulled himself up and over. The tanks couldn’t follow them down the narrow alley, or so they thought. Instead, the tank crews sealed all the openings and simply drove through anyway, ploughing through the walls on either side. With a single shot, they blew the wall apart, and the men continued their advance.
When they arrived at the central square, they were taken aback by the fury of the fight. Hundreds of Saudis, the best they had, were grouped in front of the legendary Kabah, and Dominicus knew they would sooner die, and gladly, rather than surrender that precious artifact to Imperial control. They had night-vision goggles, and were good shots with their machine guns. Already a pile of Imperial bodies testified to their worthiness as foes. Dominicus ordered his squad to get down in a deep crater and use it like a trench. Three died before they all got in, but they opened fire as soon as they were under cover, and more than a few grenades were hurled into the ranks of the desperate Saudis. However, the battle was finally decided when the Saudi remnant there was surrounded as the rest of the city crumbled under the assault. Under fire from all sides, and with no air support left, they fought to the end and all died.

***
City of Al Hufuf, east of Riyadh

Subaltern Titus Anor and his men were aboard a cramped M1 Bradley armed transport vehicle. They should be bored, but instead his men were hyperalert. He had been assigned to support the final assault on the Saudi portion of the city, which was holding out despite attempts to neutralize the resistance. News of the capture of Mecca had galvanized the Saudi forces, and rumor said the king had declared jihad against the invading Kreegans, and this had turned the religious Saudis from a barely intact mass of soldiers to furious crusaders. They were like animals, and animals got more dangerous the closer they came to extinction. Titus could hear the thunder in the distance as the 6th Armored Division began to increase its pounding of the Saudi-held areas. A-10 Thunderbolt fighter-bombers were readying themselves for the final attack. A company from the 1st Artillery was taking up position outside the city. The Immortals and War-Priests were finishing their battle rituals. The stage was set for the ruthless Imperial troops to overrun the Saudi defenses and claim Al Hufuf for the Empire.
After what seemed like an eternity, the vehicle ground to a halt and the deployment door opened. Titus yelled, “Out, men! Let’s spill some blood!” Screaming battle cries, the squad rushed out into the already-hot battle zone, which happened to be one of the city’s squares.
Battered Saudi tanks were blasting apart the lightly armored Bradleys, removing dozens of troops from the fight. Titus smiled and led his squad into an alley. They encountered a team of Saudis, guns at the ready, and opened fire. They lost two, but the squad moved forward nonetheless. They came to the end of the alley...which was right behind the tanks. A squad of Immortals was under cover and periodically fired the grenade launchers attached to their AR-650 assault rifles, but this hadn’t penetrated the tanks’ armor. Titus whispered, “Give me your grenades.” Puzzled but obedient, each squad member handed him a grenade. Separating them into two piles of six each, he pulled some wire from his pocket and tied the pins in each pile together. Titus then crawled behind the tanks, wedged each string of grenades between the gears on their treads, and returned to their position. Telling his squad to get down, he pulled hard on the wire, and covered his ears.
The grenades exploded right beneath the tanks, and if they didn’t destroy them outright they came close. Two volleys of grenades from the Immortals rushed in, and the tanks were out of the picture. Cheering, a squad of Legionaries rushed down the road, on the lookout for Saudis. Suddenly, a series of Bouncing Betty antipersonnel mines jumped into the air and detonated at head height. The multiple explosions tore the poor troops apart and hurled their mangled bodies away. Momentarily stymied, the squads in the square stopped dead. Taking advantage of this, dozens of Saudis rose from their hiding places on the roofs and rained fire down on them. Many were killed in seconds before the Imperials got under cover. Titus fumbled for his radio and shouted desperately, “This is Squad Six Leader, we need air support! We are under heavy fire and taking losses from troops on the roofs. Repeat, requesting air support!” He waited as the bullets pinged off the crumpled tanks, which he was hiding behind. Suddenly, he heard helicopter blades. Then the roar of chain-gun fire reached his ears, and then there was only the chopper blades and a few dragged-out rasping noises. The gunship landed on the roof and unloaded a few snipers and another squad of reinforcements. The snipers took up position on the roof of the apartment building they were on, and soon the crack-crack of rifles firing filled the air.
Titus and his squad were picked up by the gunship and taken to a forward position away from the mines. There, the battle was in full swing, and the Imperial tanks were engaged with unseen Saudis, evidently with anti-tank weapons, because there were several flaming wrecks scattered in the road. The tanks were sweeping the area with their machine guns, but to no avail. Titus thought about it, but his thoughts were rudely interrupted as a truck turned a corner and started driving at full speed toward one of the tanks. It turned its turret, but too late. The truck collided and a huge explosion tore the tank apart. “Damn suicidal assholes,” Titus muttered. It was so typical of these Saudis to drive trucks full of explosives at the enemy if they couldn’t kill them any other way. The rockets continued pouring in, and soon all the tanks were gone.
Satisfied that their prey was dead, the Saudis rose from cover, surveying the wreckage happily. “I’ll wipe the smiles off their damn faces,” Titus growled furiously. “UP, SQUAD! OPEN FIRE!” he yelled. His men rose up as one and poured bullets down on the exposed foe. It was a clean sweep. In less than three seconds they were all dead.
New orders came over the radio. He had been placed in command of a company whose commander had been killed, and they were to move to the Al-Saud Towers and terminate the opposition within. The Al-Saud Towers, he knew, were a luxury combination of hotel, bar, and lounge for the elite. However, the rich Saudis had abandoned it in a hurry after the city was attacked, and the soldiers had claimed it for their own. It was one of the primary bastions of the Saudi forces, and if it fell, the insurgents would never survive the day, especially given the fact that their men in the industrial quarter were being massacred by kill-teams of the Immortals.
His squad joined the other company in a parking garage across the road from Al-Saud Towers. Titus got together with the squad leaders. After a few minutes of hurried debate, they agreed on a plan.
There was a maintenance passage underneath the garage that led to the hotel. This was so the janitors could be kept out of sight of the rich patrons. Half the company would create a distraction by storming the upper levels, while the other half would spread out through the basements and place explosives on the supports. Titus requested high explosives over the command frequency, and soon a truck, escorted by a pair of tanks, rolled up the ramps of the garage, filled with C4. The troops who would be going into the basement loaded explosives into their packs, and Titus sent them out.
They crowded through the dark passageway, and once they reached the end Titus halted them and pressed his ear to the door. He heard voices, so he pulled out a small lock-picking kit and began his work as quietly as he could. After a minute or so, the lock clicked, and Titus smashed through it with his foot. His men poured through, spread out, and gunned down the two Saudi guards who were watching the door. They found the stairwell and filed in, and Titus gave them their orders. “Group Alpha, find the stairs and go level by level. Kill as many as you can. When I call you, get the hell out of here, you understand? Group Beta, follow me.” The company split, Titus leading his men down, and another squad leader taking the other group upstairs.
Titus had suspected the basement would be relatively unguarded, and he was right. They encountered a few patrols, but they still moved down, and soon they found the secondary parking garage. They planted enough explosives down there to turn the place to hell, and Titus signaled the other team. “Group Alpha? What’s your status?” An unfamiliar voice responded. “Sir, Subaltern Barbarossa was killed on the ninth floor. He took three men with him, sir. We’re on the eleventh floor, clearing out the lounge. We’re taking heavy losses, sir.” An explosion went off in the background. “Get out of there now, I repeat, out. This place is going up in ten minutes. Haul ass!”
Titus raced back up to the first level, hurried back to the passage, and ran back to the garage. He waited anxiously for his men to appear, but after eight minutes he knew they never would. He looked down at the detonator he held in his hand, sighed, and set off the explosives early. The huge skyscraper visibly shook. It wobbled for a few seconds, then collapsed into its own foundations. A huge cloud of dust rose, and Titus hurriedly donned a breath mask and got his men out of there.

***
Outside the city of Durma, Saudi Arabia, several days later

Supreme Commander Mikal of Domain Kun-Dra surveyed the army from his personal helicopter. Thousands upon thousands of the Imperial Legionaries were trudging along, with hundreds of tanks following. The flanks were guarded by lighter vehicles, and a few precious companies of Immortals marched as well, their eyes alight with the desire for war. Helicopter squadrons patrolled the skies, and squadrons of A-10 Thunderbolts, F-117 Fighting Falcons, FA-22 Raptors, and many others were parked in the sands outside Al Quway’iyah. That area of desert had been bombarded by incendiaries until it turned to glass, merely to provide a forward air base. It shows the resolve of our men, and the righteousness of our cause, Mikal thought.
Suddenly a frantic beeping came from a console. Mikal looked down and saw that it was a message from High Command, on the carrier Leviathan, far away in the Red Sea. It was from High General Dharus, a legendary old warrior with decades of experience in the art of war. Without waiting for Mikal to greet him, Dharus began. “Supreme Commander, you and the whole wing of the Riyadh assault force are under attack. Satellites show that a large Saudi force, probably detached from Riyadh’s defenses, is moving toward you and will contact you within the hour. While their planes are inferior, they outnumber you, and missiles are in the air towards the airbase at Al Quway’iyah. Surface-air missiles are being prepared, but they have many of them, and it is unlikely we will get them all. You are at the disadvantage, Supreme Commander. But if you remove this force, the Riyadh attack is assured success.” Again without waiting, Dharus terminated the connection.
Mikal swore. And swore again. Then he turned on the all-troops frequency and calmly said, “All troops and vehicles, be advised that a large enemy force is moving this way. We have less than an hour to prepare. Do so as best you can, and pray for victory.” He signed off and continued his flight, plans and scenarios running through his head.
Forty-three minutes later, the column was winding its way through a valley between two huge dunes. Dharus had not contacted the army since his first transmission, and Mikal had no idea when the enemy would arrive, short of the limited detection packages his air units had, which would be useless what with all the background heat from the desert. But he had his danger sense. He knew this was the perfect place for an ambush.
Mikal sent companies to the dunes on the north and west, deliberately leaving the east unprotected. He sent tanks and artillery to the same place, ready to bombard any enemy that showed himself, and he sent most of his other tanks to the eastern side of the column, ready to engage the enemy that would undoubtedly appear from there. He called the airbase and had them scramble half their planes to defend them, and finally had a few helicopters fly over the dune and see what was beyond it.
All Mikal could see as the helicopters coming over the dune, start to turn, and suddenly missiles spiraled up and blew them out of the air. Saudi troops suddenly rose up from their hiding place at the top of the dune, and rockets rained down like the spears of the gods, tearing apart the Legionaries’ companies. Saudi tanks rolled down the dunes, firing as they went, the sheer number of shells they put into the air more than a match for even the near-invincible Ravager tanks. The return fire from the Imperial armor began to slow, and soon it was silent, but for the tanks Mikal had sent to the dunes.
The Legionaries took cover behind the ruined tanks and popped out randomly to fire up at the Saudis. Dozens of corpses fell at each volley. But the Saudis kept firing, and they had the advantage. Saudi helicopters began to duel with the Imperial ones, and two dozen enemy jets screamed toward the infantry, gunning them down and rising up again, circling like vultures. AA fire from some of the vehicles and the missile infantry rose up to meet them. Some fell, and crashed in the Imperial ranks, but most dropped flares and continued to dive-bomb the Kreegan forces. “Where are those planes?!” Mikal growled, as he watched his men get torn apart by the Saudi tanks. The surprise was long dead, but the enemy had the initiative and the greater morale. The Immortals were especially lethal, and many foes fell under their rolling fusillade of armor-piercing rounds, but the jets noticed this, and began to attack them most, as did the Saudi armor.
Mikal watched in mounting despair as the Imperial forces fled back to cover farther away from the eastern dune. The Saudis advanced now, descending from their cover to shoot all the better. Six more enemy planes, these bombers, descended on the artillery as they began to blast gaping holes in the Saudi advance, and one by one the great guns fell silent. Heaving a huge sigh, and knowing the High Command would be furious for his failure, he reached for his radio and ordered the retreat.
Slowly at first, and then faster and faster, the battered army turned and stumbled away. The few remaining tanks and vehicles provided cover fire, and stopped the Saudis from overtaking them in minutes. Also, the air support finally arrived, to shouts of relief from the beleaguered troops below. But in vain, as the Saudi troops stopped to blast the tanks apart with anti-tank rockets. And the Saudi AA guns blew most of the reinforcements out of the sky, and the jets finished them off at small cost to themselves.
Stumbling over the dunes, trying desperately to get back to Al Quway’iyah alive, the Imperials prepared a counterattack as they fled. Disappearing behind a huge rock outcrop, they scaled it and prepared an ambush as the Saudis had done to them. The pursuing enemy walked right into the trap. The Imperials charged down and outflanked them, and rained fire on them from their cover in the rocks, but they wavered as the Saudis fought like devils. Finally the Imperials broke and ran, a sad remnant of the grand force that had set out from Al Quway’iyah.

***
Imperial High Command Complex, codenamed CHARIOT, undisclosed location, several days later

As High General Dharus read the report, his lips twisted into a small smile. He had orchestrated the removal of Supreme Commander Mikal well. The man was in complete disgrace, and was expected to be executed. He would now be placed in command of the force that would attack Riyadh, and he would do his job well. The prefects had concluded as he had that the losses were far from irreplaceable. Good to see those damn intendants have some sense after all, he thought.

...CONCLUSION:
The Saudi forces around Riyadh are the most substantial concentration of forces remaining in their territory. They have used thousands of these valuable men to drive off one wing of the force attacking Riyadh and their defenses are now significantly weaker. Balancing this is the effect that the loss of so many men will have on Imperial morale and timetables. Numerically, our forces won the battle, and the kill ratios were in our favor. However, the force felt defeated, and was taken aback by the ferocity of the Saudi attack. Prior to this, Imperial forces had not suffered serious losses at any point. Even the conquest of Mecca incurred fewer casualties than the Saudi counterattack. Now the illusion of security has been severely damaged and this has a detrimental effect on morale.
The Saudis have bought themselves time to complete the defense of Riyadh with the lives of thousands of soldiers that they cannot replace. However, thus far only our vanguard force has encountered concentrated opposition, and the main force is unengaged. Our recommendation is to insert double the forces that were lost into the same position, tipping the eventual battle for Riyadh more in our favor. These losses by themselves are tolerable; we have not revealed our full strength thus far. However, troop morale is suffering. We suspect this will improve once word reaches the soldiers that many more fresh Legionaries are on their way, along with another company of Immortals and another chapter of Calchexan War-Priests. We cannot allow these losses to delay the conquest of Riyadh. Every lost day is a day that their defenses are strengthened.
Council of Prefects

***
Terrorist training camp in the northern deserts of Saudi Arabia

Faisal al-Qaif sat on a cushion on the floor, letting anger permeate his soul. These were dark days for a man of Allah. And still, many faithful Muslims did nothing to stop the rape of the Saudi people by the infidel Kreegans! Times like these made Faisal pray desperately to Allah that the world would see reason as he had.
“Sir?”
He opened his eyes to see a new member of his sect in his tent. “Why have you disturbed me?”
“Sir, there is a man waiting outside. He says he is a man of Islam as you are, and that he has a gift for such a visionary as you. Those are his exact words. Shall I show him in?”
“Yes. But make sure he is unarmed.”
Faisal heard a rustling outside the tent as whoever this man was got patted down by his guards. After a few seconds, a man wrapped entirely in white and black cloth, with only his eyes exposed, stepped into the tent, bowed deeply to Faisal, and waited to be greeted.
“Welcome to you, stranger. Would you do me the honor of revealing your name?”
“My name is nothing. I am a man of Allah, as are you. I seek wisdom in the words that Mohammed wrote long ago.”
“Names have power. They are not nothing.”
“Let nothing have power over me save the Word of Allah.”
Faisal smiled. This man knew the Koran thoroughly, back to front. No infidel spy would have such knowledge of the truth, even if he did not give his name. It meant little anyway. “Why have you come here?” he asked, motioning the stranger to sit. He sat and responded, “I have seen firsthand the dangers of the world. Great powers are in motion and it would be foolish to ignore them. For a long time I thought that no danger could befall the Kabah. But now the unclean hands of infidels touch that great rock of faith. Allah sees only those who do not know him in the Sacred City. It is the most holy task of all to cleanse this land of the infidel and restore Islam to the country.” Faisal gritted his teeth. He had thought of this dilemma many times, and it was refreshing to encounter a man who would save the Kabah, as he would. Faisal felt he could trust the man, and so murmured, “Yes, Islam is threatened. What do you suggest?”
The man might have been smiling, it was impossible to tell behind his myriad layers. He lifted a briefcase, opened it, and showed its contents to Faisal. Stacks and stacks of Saudi riyals filled the briefcase. In an instant Faisal got angry. “You think I am some infidel swine? My faith is not for sale! You cannot bribe me to do what you want!”
The man sat there placidly and took it, and when Faisal was done, responded, “Faisal al-Qaif, I know the depth of your faith. That is why I came to you. You are willing to do anything to safeguard Islam, as I am. This is no bribe, it is a contribution that you should deal with as you see fit. I do have a request, but that money is not meant to buy you.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Too many Muslims have done nothing to stop the infidels, even with the capture of the Kabah. There is no middle ground; jihad is the only answer. They are not with you, thus they are against you. If they will not fight for Allah they are no better than the infidels. The only way to persuade them is force.”
Faisal and the stranger talked well into the afternoon and night, and next morning the stranger left. He was convinced. The only way to save the Kabah was to declare war, and to do that, the traitors must be stopped.

***
The Hall of Confluence, the Imperial Palace, Korronis, later that day.

“So it went well, my little puppet?”

“Yes, Divine One, the infidel is convinced that he must attack the other Muslims if he is to stop us.”

“Hmmm.” The Sacred Emperor stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I did not truly expect it to be so easy. Are you sure he is not deceiving you?”

“Positive, my Lord. He fulfilled all three categories for manipulation: radical, faithful, and stupid. He will do as I have asked.”

“Very well done. Very well done indeed. You have done a great deed today, Inquisitor, and I commend you for enduring the infidel teachings so that you might deceive this man. As I said, you will receive five million denarii for your reward, as well as the title of Imperial Lord and an estate in the Jamaane Dominion.”

“Truly my Lord is generous. And I will tell nobody of what has happened here.”

“Very well. Go then.”

OOC: Since I have no way of knowing whether my bloody computer will bow to my demands, I will post part three of the invasion now and wrap it up. Better to play it safe...

City of Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, just after dawn

The Saudi army infesting Riyadh had finished their vigil. Every morning before sunrise they had awakened and prepared for imminent attack by the eerily silent Imperial army waiting in the sands, knowing that dawn was the best time to attack. They had done this for days now, and the attack still had not come. Certainly, the Imperial artillery constantly bombarded the city, but hundreds of thousands of Legionaries and their tanks, helicopters, planes, and other weapons of war were out there in the desert, hiding, waiting. Because of this constant vigil at dawn and their familiarity with the lack of an attack, they were at their most vulnerable right after the vigil was over and the soldiers trooped back to their barracks, grumbling. High General Dharus knew this.
This morning was no different...until the bombs started to fall. B-2 stealth bombers high above were bombing the city. Mere seconds after the bombs fell, more than a hundred contacts registered on Saudi radar, dozens and dozens of planes coming to hit them hard and fast. In the deserts beyond, tanks rose up, sand pouring off their armor as they pointed their turrets at Riyadh and began to fire. Saudi forces scurried from street to street, trying to find something to do. AA missiles were launching from emplacements all over the city, but in vain, as the bombers still could not be detected. When the Saudi commander realized this, the second wave of planes was already on the city, blasting apart the AA installations before those missiles could be turned on them. The infantry slapped together a few portable SAM launchers, but those were turned aside by the flares. Desperately, the last remnants of the Saudi Arabian air force scrambled, but the Imperial pilots were rested, well trained, and brutal. One by one, the planes began to plummet back down in ruin onto the city. True, the Saudis scored some kills, but there were simply too many enemies. Minutes later, cruise missiles began to roar in from the southeast, and there was nothing the Saudis could do to stop them. And still the Imperial infantry were not to be seen, simply watching Riyadh crumble.
The Imperial Legions were taking vengeance in full for the massacre at Durma.
Finally General Dharus, standing on a dune, lowered his binoculars and nodded. Raising a clenched fist into the air, he yelled, “For the gods!” The cry was taken up and amplified by countless thousands of soldiers, rising suddenly from the dunes like the restless dead. Swarming suddenly, they ran across the small distance separating them from the outskirts of the city. Rumbling to life, the tanks stopped firing on the city to follow them. Helicopters rose from the ground and soared toward the key Saudi defenses. Unloading squads of crack Immortals, they provided covering fire with their miniguns, and flew off again, firing missiles into pockets of Saudi troops. The Imperial fighter-bombers were in the residential zone of the city, bombing anything that moved into dust, and the B-2s were still high in the air, dropping tons of bombs on the city.

***
City of Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, residential zone
Sergeant Ahmed of the Saudi Arabian army was hiding in the tottering ruins of a café, clutching a radio and yelling into it for aid. “All squads, rendezvous at the hotel on Hajj Avenue! Repeat...” He could hear behind him the vicious Immortals systematically gunning down his men. Murmuring a quick prayer to Allah, he scrambled across the street to the aforementioned hotel, he scrambled behind the buffet tables and reloaded, waiting for his reinforcements. There was an eerie silence as the Immortals prowled through the hotel, their demonically advanced detection gear sweeping the area. Ahmed held his breath and prayed again. Looking under the table, he saw three pairs of boots advancing his way-
Suddenly bursts of fire erupted from behind the Immortals. He was saved! His men had come! With a wild cry, he leapt up and fired at the Immortals...or where they had been. Somehow they had gotten under cover already, and many were shielded from both Ahmed and his troops. Gritting his teeth in rage, Ahmed emptied his rifle clip into those few who were exposed and watched them fall before three bullets slammed into his chest. He fell back, and the world seemed to slow. He thudded to the ground, and touched the wounds in disbelief. Then his head lolled back, he felt himself fade, and waited for his first glimpse of Heaven.
The Immortal squad leader, his face obscured by the mirrored faceplate of his helmet, gazed down at the dead Saudi. For the first time in the history of the Empire, except the Parian revolution, the Legions had never fought an enemy who had faith nearly as strong as theirs. These Saudis, for infidels, had individual strength. But, he reflected, their army was currently being wiped out, so it mattered little.

***
Outside the city of Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, Imperial mobile command station
High General Dharus watched the battle take place on the Battlenet. His screen showed the status and location of every unit in the city, whether it be a battalion or a squad. His men were sweeping into the residential zone, led by the cold Immortals. The air units were making runs on whatever concentrated resistance was in their way, despite taking losses against the Saudi air defenses. Battle-hardened Legionaries were pushing around the enemy, preparing to trap them inside the Palace and then bomb it. The plan was working perfectly.

***
City of Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, central plaza outside the royal palace
Commander Evincar, in command of Delta Battalion in this battle, wiped the sweat from his face, unclipped a grenade from his belt, pulled the pin, and quickly stood and hurled it at the Saudi resistance. They were encountering the Presidential Guard, in large enough numbers to halt the continuous advance. Occasionally new squads would be sent to assist, but for the most part, his battalion was on its own. Hiding behind any cover they could find, they were trying to push the Saudis back into their palace where they could be defeated with ease by the bombers. Standing again, the Commander fired four short bursts, killing three, before a bullet found its mark in his shoulder. Grunting in pain, he got back down and looked at it. The wound wasn’t bad, so he opened his field medical kit and downed a pill developed by the shapers, called dytricin. It would keep him on his feet; it was an extremely powerful painkiller with a mild stimulant, but would make the wound worse without treatment. He figured he’d get too see a medic once the battle was over, so he took the pill, grunted again as what felt like red-hot knives twisted through his system, and then he felt the rush of adrenaline. Feeling like he’d just drank ninety espressos, he stood again, fired again and again. He crouched again, and this time he leaned out to the side to fire.
Suddenly three gunships swooped down, unleashing their miniguns on the Saudi soldiers. With this covering fire, a squad of Legionaries leaped out from each one, surrounding the Saudi forces. Commander Evincar yelled, “For the Sacred Emperor!”, stood up and fired, and this time kept firing. He walked into the open, still gunning down the Saudis as they returned fire. His men followed his example, exposing themselves but slaughtering the surrounded enemy. The Presidential Guard returned fire, shooting down dozens of the Kreegans, but the rest continued their deadly barrage. A few seconds later, Evincar, bleeding from his shoulder, a thigh wound, and a shrapnel wound on his forehead, looked down at the corpse of a Presidential Guardsman, spat on it, and moved on.

***
City of Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, Imperial siege perimeter outside the royal palace
The Imperial forces in the city withdrew to a safe distance, while still watching the palace to ensure nobody left. They had sent an emissary to the Saudi nobles and soldiers still inside, thast they would leave the city immediately if the Saudis gave them half the treasures in the palace. Apparently the intimidated leaders had agreed, as a series of men were picking their way through the devastated plaza toward the Imperial forces. High General Dharus was standing there in his full ceremonial dress uniform. Still, even the man’s iron constitution couldn’t ignore the incredible heat. He had to be roasting, Commander Evincar thought.
He watched as the delegation said a few words to Dharus, who nodded and impatiently waved the ragged servants bearing chests and briefcases forward. They laid the various containers at his feet, and Dharus checked them to make sure they held treasure. Satisfied, he smiled, told the Saudis to go, and waited until their backs were turned. Then he raised his hand, waited a few seconds, then dropped it. The Immortal squads flanking him opened fire, the armor-piercing rounds tearing into the Saudis. Still smiling, Dharus raised his radio to his mouth. Evincar heard his voice crackle through the speakers of his own radio, “Withdraw. Repeat, withdraw from the city.” The victorious army turned as one and began trudging into the oustkirts. Evincar imagined the looks on the King’s face when he looked out and saw his delegation killed and half his palace’s wealth gone.
When the army was safely outside the city, Dharus looked back and hurried into his air-conditioned command vehicle. He sat down heavily in one of the comfortable chairs inside it, reached forward to the air units’ frequency radio, and ordered them to commence Operation: Carthage.
The planes that had been bombing the city all this time turned toward the palace, and launched a fearsome barrage of missiles and bombs. Countless megatons of explosives dropped from the bellies of the planes, and massive explosions began to be heard. The planes fanned out, striking indiscriminately. The 4th Artillery Legion outside the city resumed its bombardment, hurling hundreds of shells into the already-ruined city. As planned, Imperial missiles entered radar range and hurtled toward the city. They were incendiaries, and they set most of the city ablaze. He ordered the tanks to do what they wanted as well. Finally, Dharus called the Ministry of Pleasure back in the Imperial capital of Korronis and requested thousands of their girls be immediately airlifted to the Imperial camp, as well as tons of beer.
They had earned it.

***
City of Korronis, the Kreegan Empire, Imperial Palace, the Hall of Confluence

The Sacred Emperor leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and looked at Darian of Domain Aurelius, the Minister of Foreign Relations, and asked, “Have the Saudi remnants concluded their little insurrection?”
“Yes, Divine One. General al-Omari has accepted unconditional surrender.”
“Excellent. Terminate the Saudi leadership.”
“Yes, Divine One.”
Sacred Emperor Lucifer turned to Jakran Vuell, the Imperator of the Imperial Armed Forces. “Imperator, what is the disposition of the Legions, as our victory has not been without cost?”
“My Lord, they are as unwavering as they have ever been. You could order them to attack any foe and they would throw themselves on the enemy, completely and rightly confident of victory.”
“Excellent.”
“My Lord, it is not my place, but...”
“Speak.”
“The insurgency, Divine One. Or the lack of it. For some reason, many sects of radical Islam have begun fighting the more moderate Islamic groups. How has this happened? We expected to have to police the country extensively to prevent revolution, but they are very weak from fighting each other, and divided as well. Did...did you have something to do with this?”
Lucifer smiled enigmatically and leaned back, oozing satisfaction. “Suffice to say, Imperator, that manipulation is not the exclusive province of the priests.”

OOC: And there you have it. Amen.

OOC: Well done, bro.