NationStates Jolt Archive

Major Paul Gordon ducked inside a café to escape the heat of the African day. The café was not one frequented by whites, and so the tall Anglo received a number of looks from the patrons. Gordon largely ignored them, and proceeded to the counter. The proprietor was a heavyset dark man, who wore a large smile that had probably been quite genuine before the arrival of the intelligence officer. A ceiling fan turned lazily above them, stirring the hot air into something resembling a breeze.

“You’ll be wanting something to drink, eh, friend?” The grin remained on the owner’s face, Gordon imagined, because in this country Anglos meant money.

“That I would. Lemonade, please.” As the man pulled a bottle and a glass from the refrigerator behind the counter, Gordon reached into his pocket and placed a Crown note on the shiny wooden surface. The owner took the note and reached into a jar of loose change, though Gordon stopped him with a shake of his head.

The African nodded. “Thank you, sir.” Gordon opened the bottle and poured the lemonade into the glass. It was lemonade like one would find in the UK, colorless and carbonated, as opposed to the cloudy and flat beverage one would find in North America. He drained the glass quickly, setting it down on the counter. Thanking the proprietor again, he departed from the café.

*****

Kibwe Farai hurried down the street, heading for his rendezvous point. He turned the corner sharply, running into a well-dressed white man exiting a corner café. The other man stumbled for a second, as Farai completely lost his balance and fell. Quickly trying to regain his composure, he sat up and saw a white hand extended toward him. He took it and the other man helped him up, brushing off his shoulder.

“My fault, apologies,” the African said quickly, avoiding the other man’s eyes.

“No worries, friend,” was the reply. The white man sighed, and went on his way. Farai dusted himself off again, and hurried into the café.

“Chiz.” The owner of the café, Thabo Chizoba, looked up from a customer and saw the newcomer. He excused himself from the business at hand, and beckoned Farai into the back room.

The storage room was filled with several crates of fruits and vegetables, as well as several shelves full of loaves of bread and other dry goods. A large walk-in freezer held meats, and carts full of bottles of liquid were lined against one wall. Chizoba’s café was one of the best-stocked in the city, outside of the white district. Lifting a crate of oranges and setting it one the floor, Chizoba reached for a crowbar and pried open the crate below it. He pulled the lid off, revealing several dozen gold bars.

“Skimmed, you might say, from the mines to the south. Exchanged for these,” he said, gesturing to another crate he had opened. This one was filled with weapons. Farai didn’t recognize the make, but that didn’t mean anything. One gun was pretty much the same as another. All types would get the job done.

“And these will be made available to my men?” The fat café owner grinned widely and nodded. “Of course, friend. And more. I don’t want to get your hopes up, but it’s likely foreigners will be coming in to train and lead you men. You’ve learned from the best history has to offer. Che Guevara, Ho Chi Minh, and all the rest. Now you and your men will learn from the modern world.” Solemnly, he raised a fist. Farai did the same.

It was time.

*****

Richard Wallis Lorne strolled through the fields of his farm, waving to the field hands as they headed back toward the dining hall and worker housing. It was relaxing to walk across the open plain, as evening darkened into night. He reach a large tree, which was his mark to turn around on his daily walks. He began heading back to the dining hall, figuring he would arrive about the time the field hands would begin their supper. He liked to eat with them, and sharing stories and jokes with them around the table.

A dark figure stepped out from behind a tree and swung a club at Lorne’s face. The farmer fell to the ground, grunting. Taking a pistol and pointing it at the landowner’s face, the dark figure muttered something in African, and fired.

Back at the farmhouse, the last of the field hands were being herded into their barracks by armed men with assault rifles. The night was lit be an eerie orange glow from the burning farm house. Lorne’s wife and eldest son lay on the ground in front of the house. The farmer’s two young daughters clung to the dress of one of the older house servants, tears streaming down their face. She pushed them into the barracks, were they were surrounded by other workers.

The leader of the armed men took a shotgun, and handed it to one of the field women. “Take this, in case bandits try to break in. Kobina, lock them in.” The male field hands were already locked in their barracks.

“Sisters, the revolution has begun!” And then the door was closed, and the workers were alone as the insurgents disappeared into the bush.

*****

Paul Gordon inhaled deeply, the smile of smoke and charred wood filling his lungs. In the early grey dawn, a few fires still burned on the Lorne farm, but most were extinguished. The surviving field hands clustered around local police, who were distributing hot tea and food. A few female officers were trying their best to comfort the Lorne girls.

“Major!” Gordon looked up. A young policeman was running up the path. “Major! Sergeant Kwabena says to tell you that they’ve found Lorne’s body. Shot, about half a kilometer up the path.”

“Bloody fucking hell,” muttered Gordon. As the senior RIA agent in Rhodesia, and one of the top men in Africa, this had become his case. Eight farms attacked last night alone, bringing the total to twenty in the past month.

“Sefu,” he asked the young officer, “Does the term ‘Chimurenga’ mean anything to you?”

In the Upper Weston consulate in(OOC: what is Malkyer's capital), Captain Craig Bryson, the Upper Weston military attache to Malkyer, was reading a report on Lorne's murder.

It seemed that some 20 farms had been raided quite brutally over the last few weeks. The tactics and weapons appeared to fit into 2 or 3 patterns, implying more than one group of attackers with some degree of coordination. This would bear further attention, th epotential for trouble in a state where blacks outnumbered whites 6 to 1, but yet only held about 15% of the wealth.

He marke a notation on the report and put it in his Out box. Within two hours it was on the desk of Nathan Thorn, the Chief of Station for the National Directorate of Intelligence, in Malkyer. He read the report and made a mental note to check with his contacts in Rhodesia, if anyone knew who did this it was Benji.

He made a note to call his old friend as soon as his meeting with a minor official from the Malkyer Trade Commision was over. He would have loved to skip it, but his position as Economic Attache, in reality his cover, obligated to these regular meetings with Malkyerian bureaucrat.

"Oh well," he thought, "there'll be time to sort this mess out later."

Jafari Sabama, a man in his mid twenties and with a beard got into a pick-up and turned the ignition. It was dark out but he drove without the lights. The rickity truck went down the dirt road. Along the road there were several others standing. He pulled up next to them. One got in the passengers side and two more got in the bed. The truck continued. The sweat rolled down his face. After a few miles there was a fork in the road. One path led to a farm of a wealthy white. The men got out of the truck.
"Palassa, you take him and go around the back. I and Mosi will go in through the front. Don't use guns, we must do this silently." Jafari whispered. Each of them unsheathed a machete and crept across the field and up the road.

They finally reached the house and crept in. There was a white family, about six and all. They raised their machetes and brought them down upon the residents. It was quick and silent. They took some valuables and a shotgun. The attack was a success. Jafari and the others walked out onto the porch. Each of their machetes covered and blood.
"We must leave" he said and they departed. However, a little girl escaped the carnage and was cowering under a bed...

At KLM Embassy, Vancouver, Malkyer

Ambassador Karl Landsteiner (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v504/Ottoman01/f0123a6a.jpg) was in his office reading the latest reports on the recent killings in Malkyer Africa…it was unnerving for the most part. He had gotten word the AMI was keeping a close watch over the matter, since it was relatively next door to KLM holdings of East Africa. Yet the Imperial Government was taking a wait and see stand on the issues and just eh Ambassador was order to just watch events as they happen and wait for further orders.

The truck rolled down the road, all occupants were silent 'Such is the price' Jafari thought. He was a merchant and had some education. But he lost his job when the whites bulldozed the market area of the city. His wife and two small children lived out in the country in a small village controlled by the local militia of which he was one of the leaders. He hated what he was doing but believed it nesecary. The truck reached the village and the men got out and went into one of the huts. Inside was the Rhodenisian flag and a dozen others.
"Sabama, how did the raid go?" asked one of them.
"We crept like a lion and pounced on our prey" Jafari replied, sitting down adn taking a swig of water. They began discussing more plans.

This latest attack disturbed him. His mind had taken a downward turn from his old self. The only comfort he had was that he did not kill any children.

The fools deserved it...that was all on the thoughts of the Foreign Affairs Minsitry personnel as reports flew in that farms and outlying settlements in colonized Malkyar Africa had been raided soon. The fools...they would learn their punishments for their oversight of natives. Natives had to be destroyed, or they would come like cockroaches...never to be vanquished. And those who did not learn this lesson were better off dead before they made more mistakes...mistakes the Malkyar occupyers had obviously not learned.
So the Foreign Affairs department believed that Malkyar's reign over the area should be halted...before the weak spread their disease to the strong, a potential snowball effect that would instigate revolution. Supplying a revolution wasn't always in the forefront of Dominion policy, but they would do just enough for the rebels to win...and then come down on the new-found independence like an anvil.

It was Jafari's turn to speak. The men silenced and awaited. Jafari proved himself over the past to be a skilled fighter and leader.
"Brothers, we cannot hop to win by merely killing white farmers. They are only part of the problem. Yes, we are striking fear but the enemy are still here, depleting this land dry like a leech. We must bring war upon them-" He began to say
"Open war?! That is impossible. We do not have the weapons or numbers. They will crush us like ants" one man said.
"We must fight on all levels. Our brothers elsewhere are more organized than us, yes I will admit that. But, we are soldiers. Do we not want an independent nation? We can never achieve such a glorious goal without expelling the enemy" he said. The others began to discuss his words and they debated on what to do next.

Viceroyal Office, Pretoria
The sergeant-at-arms came to attention, announcing the entry of the Viceroy. "His Royal Highness, Lord Alphonse Perides, Viceroy of His Majesty's Dominions in Africa. All rise."

The Viceroy entered the council chamber. He nodded, and the standing officials sat. Perides took his seat at the head of the table. The chamber was more of a glorified conference room, but it reflected the informal nature of Malkyeri monarchy. Personally, Alphonse would have favored something a bit grander and more impressive, but it wouldn't do to be more extravagant than the Emperor. Leaning back in the soft leather chair, he looked around the room at his collected advisors. He focused on a new face, several seats down on his left. "Mr. Quinton, you have brought a guest?"

Felix Quinton, RIA Viceroyal Chief, nodded. "I have. Allow me to introduce Major Paul Gordon, our senior agent for Rhodesia." Gordon stood and bowed slightly to the Viceroy, and then took his seat again.

"Well, then. I suppose you're the authority on these murders, Agent Gordon? So what do you recommend we do to stop this? It's gotten almost as bad as it was decades ago."

"One could say that, m'lord. You'll forgive me if I lecture?" Receiving a nod from the Viceroy, Gordon stood and began to pace. "Apologies, but I think better on my feet. Now, where to start. M'lord Viceroy, you and your advisors, indeed all the politicians in the country, have decided mentally that we're facing criminals. Violent, organized criminals, yes, but criminals nonetheless. If we are to accomplish anything we must move past this notion. We're facing a classical Phase One guerrilla conflict throughout the African territories. The doctrines are fairly self-explanitory: murder, carbombings, terrorism.

"Our enemy has several advantages for the moment. First, we're not sure who exactly we're fighting. It's difficult to fight what you can't see. Their reasons for fighting are fairly predictable, though in a situation like this that doesn't narrow down the list at all. Second, they have out-country support. We know this from forensic analysis of bullets from several of the farms. Given a safe haven, outside our borders and providing them with a supply of funds and weapons, an insurgency can continue practically forever.

"The Imperial Commonwealth has little experience in counter-insurgency, or COIN, operations. I suggest then we look to the example of previous successful COIN operations, specifically those which were taking place some thirty years ago in this same part of the world. I'll discuss first the Rhodesian example.

"According to former NATO commander Sir Walter Walker, 'There is no doubt that Rhodesia now has the most professional and battle worthy army in the world today for this particular type of warfare.' Walker wrote that in January, 1978, just before power in Rhodesia was handed over to black majority rule. Throughout the Rhodesian COIN, the security forces enjoyed victory after victory. The Rhodesian security forces were battle-hardened, resourceful and daring. 40,000 of their opponents died at a cost of 1,735 Rhodesian dead - a ratio of 23:1. With 1 400 men only in the field on the average day, they could not usually muster the classic 3:1 ratio in attack. After 1976, the Rhodesian security forces were seriously out-numbered. Time and again, little more than a reinforced company far from home would take on defensive positions held by hundreds, sometimes thousands of their opponents.

"So why, then, did the Rhodesians ultimately fail? Because they were defeated at the bargaining table. Campaigns that are militarily successful can often be rendered moot by political dealings beyond the control of soldiers; history is full of examples: the French in Algeria, the Americans in Vietnam, etc.

Remember we are dealing with what appears to be a Phase One guerrilla operation. Violence will continue for the foreseeable future, and at the moment there is little we can do to stop it. More people will die, I'm afraid. All of that hurts, obviously, but it can't win, not in itself. No guerrilla war, by itself, has ever brought down an established government. Insurgencies, however, imply outside support. Nations have been brought down by insurgencies. The Ministry of Defense has okayed the use of military force in tracking, fighting, and eliminating these rebels; operations will begin within a few days. That leaves the brunt of the burden to you politicians, for the moment.

"The great thing is to not lose your nerve."

Jafari walked out of the hut, dawn was approaching and another day of misery for his people. He would lay down his life to defeat the imperialists. The others walked out, still discussing. While they were meeting a few trucks came by and they had several mortars, ammo, and weapons.
:Good, these shall be the tools of our freedom" jafari said as he touched the mortar tube.

New Christendom, Jagada

Alfred Rednight looked over the continuing international political, religious, and military events. His reports included the usual mini-invasions between third world countries, civil wars, terrorist attacks, and various inbetweens. Times were hard not only in Jagada, but across the world. Order was being torn apart at the seams and the World seemed bent on destroying itself on the simply ideaologies of Totaltarianism and Republicanism. In the end, at this rate anyway, neither would win. Victory meant that humanity had to look beyond these two classifications, if they collectively looked beyond them they may find their answer. Totaltarianism isn't itself inherently evil, as is seen in nations such as Roach-Busters, and Democracy isn't inherently good as it seen in Farminia. Humanity just couldn't go beyond classificaton. Though Jagada itself was purposely trying to become involved in this struggle between Totaltarianism and Republicanism--it had to in order to organize itself, rebuild and then strike out for its own goals. If this meant being the lacky or puppet for some other nation--then so be it.

Rednight suddenly got a fax in, one of this countless ones that came, but this one had a country that he vaguely remebered during the Kraven Years: The Imperial Commonwealth of Malkyer. Rednight turned around and pulled a file from a large file cabinet. Malkyer was labeled as a potentially hostile nation due that during the Kraven Years the Jagite Corporate State attempted to attack Malkyeri to prove its worth to Kraven. It seemed the Jagites would win their first wars as the Malkyeri Navy was pushed back, and the Saudauker were already on the beaches pushing the Malkyeri back, farther and farther inland. Though it was around that time when the War of Jagite Extermination happened. This caused the Capitol Police in Malkyer to become like children with the mobile command relays going offline--Malkyer won an easy victory.

Though Rednight returned to the report on Malkyer, appearntly the Imperial Commonwealth was having a difficult time controlling their African Empire. Rednight leaned back in his chair, around that time a knock came at the door.

"Who is it?" snapped Rednight not liking to be interrupted.

"General Sun Li, sir," said a voice with an Asian acsent from behind the wooden door.

"Enter," said Rednight leaning forward in his chair.

Sun Li opened the door and walked in, bowing to Rednight as he reached his desk. "Sir, since you are pretty much in the acting executive of Jagada until the Highest Minister returns, sir, I am happy to report to you that the Communist Insurgents in Inn have been rooted out completely."

Sun Li was an unusual man. He was about forty, very young for a Field Marshall by Jagite standards. He had black hair, and a scragly beard but his eyes were those of a man who'd seen many a thing, the eyes of man ever thinking on how to achieve victory--be it on the battlefield or in his personal life. "May I also add sir, the tactics of Sun Tzu have prevailed yet again."

Rednight nodded, "Very good, Field Marshall. Due to your success I may have another operation for you? Do you know anything about Africa?"

It was now day, a hot day. Jafari wiped the sweat from his brow as he and his men continued walking down the road. There were twenty in all, accompanied by two trucks. He swung his AK-47 over his shoulder and marched on. They were silent. They were going for some training, away from the village. The men did not want government forces snooping around the village.

At the place they got in a line. There were shrewd targets set up at the end of a small field. The me lined up and Jafari gave the order to fire, the sound of the guns going off echoed in the forest.
"Hold it like this!" he exclaimed and showed one of them how to hold the rifle right. "Aim when you shoot. Don't close your eyes!" he called out. The men were getting better at shooting.
"The enemy has better weapons, is better trained, and the enemy is more numerous. What we lack in strength, we make up in courage and brains".

"The G-11AR my firends, this weapon has won countless wars and is just the thing for any freedom fighter, the light weight caseless ammunition means you can carry many more bullets than with any other gun, and because the bullets are caseless, they don't leave tell-tale bullet casings that can lead the so-called government right to your door. The G-11 is almost as cheap and as durable as the old AK's but for the greater price you get a weapon on the cutting edge of battlefield fire-arms." Jalaby demonstrated by firing a few rounds into the target he had set up, easily blowing the plywood wrapped in det-cord dummy into a million pieces. Not even int he country for twenty four hours and already he was selling guns to some grass-roots rebellion that might or might not even really exist. That wasn't normally a problem, even where rebellions don't exist, if you sell enough guns it will happen eventually. But after years of tossing crates of military firearms into the backs of rented ford trucks and tracking down communists and fascists and democratists and socialists and we-just-want-to-be-free-ists to sell them to, Jalaby was getting tired of it all, wiping the sweat out of his eyes he tiredly assumed the stance that had singlehandedly sold more weapons than any speech he ever delivered, gun pointing straigth up, elbow resting against his side as he leaned on enough ammunition crates to supply a major war.
"So who wants one?" he tossed out.

Jalaby was one of about twelve arms-dealers Mondoth Arms Ltd. (on Authority of some secret agency or other) had carefully inserted into Malkyer controlled Africa after the reports of growing rebellion had broken out. He would spend a few more weeks going from town to town, looking for dissatisfaction and selling guns. After that he would hook up with the rest of the Arms dealers and set up a minor camp, letting word get out that they were open to train up anyone wanting to overthrow the current colonial government. That camp was always found out by government agents, but the second one usually remained a secret, and thats where the real training would begin.

The UH-60 Blackhawk flew low over the countryside, its shadow flicking over grass and stunted tree alike. As the helicopter neared its destination, the crew chief looked back at the passengers. Four men of the Frontier Scouts sat passively in the chopper. Three were chatting and joking with one another, while the fourth watched the scenery below. The crew chief signalled that the helicopter was nearing its destination, and the Scouts collected their equipment and weapons. Coming over the landing zone, the helicopter flared as it descended to a height of less than a meter. The Scouts swung down from the aircraft, landed in the tall grass and immediately heading into the tree cover a few meters away. Its cargo dispatched, the helicopter lifted off into the air again and departed for its home base to the south.

The Frontier Scouts were the African Viceroyalty's equivalent of the Empire's SAS troops. In addition to being elite combat soldiers, though, the Frontier Scouts had the advantage of being familiar with the practice of bushcraft, and many were skilled trackers. The four-man squad was, in essence, a group of hunters.

Olukayode Themba shouldered his rifle and pack, securing his own equipment and masking his entry into the bush before checking that his men had done the same. It wasn't that he wasn't confident in their abilities, as trust was implicit and absolute in the Scouts, but it would do no harm to be careful. Tracking a man was not like tracking an animal. A gazelle or leopard took no pains to conceal its path, and left no surprises behind in the form of mines or booby-traps.

Chima Ndidi, Olukayode's second, fiddled with a PDA-like device for a moment before breaking into a large and toothy grin. The bright white teeth seemed out of place in his dark face. The device linked the team directly to a UAV high overhead, transmitting data and images directly to the team. "We're connected, Olu," he said in Shona. Shona was the mother tongue of only one of the Scouts in this team, but it was the most common language in this part of Zimbabwe. Fluency would aid the Scouts if they needed to blend into a civilian population, or mask their presence from insurgents.

Olukayode nodded, and with that, silence took over. The four men departed deeper into the bush, moving quietly and carefully. They were not fools to become so engrossed in their tracking as to leave a trail for enemy trackers to follow. The group headed north, toward their quarry.

Thorn got off the plane in Pretoria and was immediately ready to leave. The African Viceroyalty was about the most unpleasent place on Earth. Being a native of Upper Weston he was used to cool, rainy weather, not this insufferable heat.

He quickly caught a cab to a small bar downtown. He desposited a coin into the pay phone and dialed a number from memory. When the man on the other end picked up he asked, "Did the Lancers (OOC: popular Upper Weston rugby team) win?" The man on the other end replied, "Yes, 19-7." Thorn thanked the man and hung up.

The code word told him all he needed to know, the meeting as at 7:00 PM at Safehouse 7. It was time to get to the bottom of this little insurgency.

Mutare Protected Village, eastern Zimbabwe
A helicopter flew by overhead, causing a few heads to turn. Mutare was a rural village on the Mozambican border, and while the frontier separated colonial territory from more colonial territory, the sense of isolation from the outside world was very real. Children still stared when tanks rolled through the streets, and pointed in excitement when soldiers marched by. As the days passed since the outbreak of a full-blown insurgency, however, the people of the Mutare Protected Village grew more used to the presence of the Royal Army.

In short, a protected village was a small village or town garrisoned directly by a force of regular soldiers, in this case the 117th Mechanized Guards Regiment, who provided for the defense of the settlement from attack, and who directed and participated in public works projects. The concept was hardly new. Realizing that the Royal Army in particular and the Imperial Commonwealth in general had little experience in fighting wars of this type, the commanding generals in Pretoria and in the rest of the empire had set their colonels and majors to studying successful counter-insurgencies from history.

Of particular interest were the campaigns of the British in Malaya in the 1950s and Kenya in the 1960s. By utilizing the system of protected communities, in which the pro-government segments of the population were systematically arranged into “safe areas,” insurgent elements could be isolated to the bush country, and hunted down by teams of military trackers and airborne light forces. In Malaya these had been the Gurkhas and SAS, “flying columns” in Kenya and the Congo, and in Rhodesia, “Fireforce” teams. The Royal Army had adopted something similar to the latter two, with small teams of trackers hunting insurgents, and calling down airstrikes and helicopter-borne light forces upon discovery.

The 117th was a force of some three thousand soldiers all told. While it would be a pitifully small force in any modern set-piece battle, its professional soldiers were easily able to garrison Mutare and patrol the surrounding countryside; they were more than up to the task of defeating a like number of poorly trained and poorly led guerrillas.

*****

Olukayode Themba whistled, mimicking the call of a European Roller, a bird native to Zimbabwe. From behind him, deeper in the bush, came an answering call. Olukayode lifted a pair of large binoculars to his eyes, looking through them. His view was obscured somewhat by branches and bits of foliage, but he did not move for a clearer view. He was about a dozen meters into the bush; that was as close as he was willing to risk getting to the open areas. Twenty in all, I would say, he thought as he counted mentally.

What luck it was. On their way north, Olu’s team had heard the tell-tale sound of a Kalashnikov being discharged. Moving toward the sound, the tracker’s had found a group of rebels, apparently practicing their marksmanship skills. Most were about what one would expect from such folk, but a few were good shots, and he figured a few would improve quickly. He whistled again, this time mimicking a Flappet Lark. That bird call was code for “disperse and Drake Shoot.” A few seconds later a dark face appeared in the brush a few meters to his right. To his left, the other two took up positions. The men were ready in a line, behind cover. Readying their rifles, Olu counted down from five on his fingers, and when he reached one the trackers open fire. Each man focused on a forty-five degree arc in front of him, firing first at targets closest to him, and them moving down the arc. As insurgents dove for cover, the trackers’ training directed them to fire two shots at all available cover within their arc of fire. If I were the enemy, where would I seek cover? Answering their own mental questions, the trackers continued to fire with deadly precision. The high-velocity rounds from their rifles could easily pierce through a tire, a truck door, or even a small tree. The insurgents fired back, naturally, and so the trackers were forced to keep their heads down for a good part of the time.

The gunfire masked the approach of several helicopter gunships from the Mutare Protected Village, some twenty minutes away by air. The helicopters had been summoned by Chima Ndidi after he answered the first whistle from Olu, and were now closing fast…

OOC: Those of you supplying or supporting the rebels, assume that they are going along with everything. If Tinsuvilia hasn’t posted anything by tomorrow, I will send him another TG and rp some of the rebels myself, so that Kulikovo doesn’t get stuck with everything.

The internet was a fascinating thing. Billions of pieces of information spread out across the globe, in a medium easily accessible to nearly everyone. It provided a incredibly useful tool in terms of communication, with information able to be processed and sent at near the speed of light. Possibly the greatest advent brought upon by computers and the internet was the fact that no information ever truly disappeared, if one knew where to look. It was this phenomenon that greatly aided the Royal Intelligence Agency of Malkyer in its searchs for clues as to the leadership of the current insurrection in southern Africa.

Two black vans sped through the streets of Bulawayo, coming from different directions but headed for the same place. Above, a police helicopter flew toward their destination, ready to trail any attempted escapees. After ten minutes of driving, the vans reached their destination. At a crowded intersection in the city's center, a van parked alongside the sidewalk. The other came to a stop at a traffic light. A middle-aged black man meandered down the street. Thabo Chizoba watched as the van parked across the street from his cafe. For some reason, it made him nervous. He left the counter under the charge of a young boy who helped him after school, and went into the back storeroom.

By a fluke of timing, Chizoba missed what happened next. The black man outside ran by the cafe, throwing a rock through the window. As it clattered to the ground and the man disappeared behind a corner, the patrons realized that it was not a rock, but rather a grenade. One man shouted, and in mid-word the grenade began to hiss, filling the room with tear gas. Across the street, the side door to the black van opened up and a squad of black-clad troopers piled out, heading for the cafe. The team from the other van jumped out as well, forming a line on the road and blocking traffic from both directions.

Amid coughing and a little strangled yelling, the glass doors of the cafe shattered as they were kicked in by RIA stormtroopers. Rifles swung back and forth as the troopers shouted for everyone to get down on the ground. One man tried to stand, and two bullets from a rifle quickly put him down. Two of the team members got down and began tying flex cuffs to the arrested patrons. The squad leader hefted his combat shotgun and headed for the storage room.

He had to lower his gun to slide the door open, and was greeted with a blast of fire as Chizoba detonated charges low in the walls, collapsing the floor and sending the team almost three meters down into the basement. Incendiary charges burned through the building. The police would find nothin left but ash and hot metal.

Score one for the insurgency.

It was still light out when Thorn's Range over rolled to a halt outside the safehouse. He walked in and found his contact and old friend waiting for him. Benjamin "Benji" Obatu had been Upper Weston's best agent in Africa for nearly 20 years. Very little happened that Benji didn't know about. This was no exception.

Benji slid a photo across the scarred wooden table, Thorn examined the man in the picture. "His name's Jabari, he fancies himself a bloody freedom fighter of sorts." Though Benji African he had spent his childhood in Upper Weston and picked up some of the local dialect.

"What else do you know?" Thorn asked.

Benji talked for nearly an hour before trailing off. With that Thorn ended the meeting. He headed back to his truck and Benji vanished into the bush on his motorcycle. As Thorn was driving back to Pretoria, he picked up his new prepaid cell phone and dialed a number.

When the man answered, Thorn started talking. "Major Gordon, you don't know me, but I think you'd like to hear what I have to say."

..:Somewhere In Malkyer Controlled Africa:..

The sun blazed high overhead the rebel camp, and the heat had forced most of the insurgents out of their shirts, revealing a sea of black muscle, hardened by life on the tough plains. Music at least twenty years old by western standards blared from a radio at least as ancient, and various vices were available to please the men, gambling being most popular. It was at the tables, scratched by millions of hands of cards, and nearly as many fights, that four men sat now.

All of them smoked heavily, and the chatter of the players was interrupted by sparse breathes and hoarse coughs, the tent next to them would smell of the tar forever.

"And then she just slapped me!" roared one of the men through his laughter, his eyes watering, whether from the smoke or his joy. The rest of the table roared their approval over their cards, and finally, after scattered fits of terrible hacking, they settled down long enough for another hand.

After dealing the cards, one of the men began a conversation that had begun very often around the whole camp. Where were the weapons promised to them by their leaders?

Each man simply shrugged as they so often did. They had made due with less before, they would make do again.

=====***=====

..:Far off Malkyer Controlled Africa's Shore:..

The spray of the ocean was felt easily as the motorboat pushed fast away from their mother ship. Behind this boat, filled with 6 men, came several more. Their objective was to arm and train African insurgents. Tinsuvilian Commandoes never failed their objectives.

Malkeryi Namibia

The giant metal formations would clearly be seen by those on the shore. Sun Li was gambling on this as being a psycological factor to the occupants of what he was calling Malkeryi Namibia. He added the 'Malkyeri' part due that not all of Namibia would be under the Imperial Commonwealth's control. Though the fact of the matter was--Namibia hadn't had a lot of insurgent activity. Which only helped Sun Li's stratgey. He would break the Namibian Insurgency before it even grew. He would ensure that Namibia would be Jagada's staging point for future operations against the Black Nationalists. He himself cared little about what happened to the blacks in Africa, if they were skilled enough to earn their independance than it meant they would survive in the modern world--if they failed, then they didn't deserve such freedom.

Though while the SuperDreadnaughts, Battleships, and Aircraft Carriers all in clear view of the Malkyeri citizen of Namibia--he wished to impose the fact that as soon as a Jagada boot hit that soil, it meant their insurgency was over. Of coarse this wouldn't be the case and he expected an extremely hard fight to end this Fourth Chimurenga--as the Malkyeri's called it. He looked down and drew the final line on the map before him on the bridge of the JGFS Gloria, and handed it over to the logistics commander, a General Xonug. As Xonug looked over the map his eyes widened, "General, sir, may I make a suggestion? Please!"

Sun Li didn't even look at him, "No. Do as you are told and do not question your superiors. Understood, general?" Xonug grudgingly bowed to Sun Li, Jagada had replaced with the salute with a bow--but of coarse like the salute it wasn't done to officers in the battlefield. He then walked out of the room to put the logistics together for the operation. Sun Li knew why Xonug was angry, but some needed to be sacrificed for the benefit of the majority. He looked over at General Ucekahi, the commander of the 78th Ambitious Assault Divison. It would be the ones taking the beach head. "Begin the operation," he stated. Ucekahi bowed and quickly walked out of the room.

An hour later, the assault was launched on the beach--no naval guns opened, no aircraft were launched. The ambitious marine divison gluided over the water in transport craft until they got to the shore. Knowing that the citizen of Walvis Bay would be watching as the Jagite troops stormed out of the troop transports--they would soon only the figure of the Jagite Overlords (http://i52.photobucket.com/albums/g18/HeavensKnights/Ages_Commando.jpg). Of coarse their armor was painted to suit the enviroment--and their eyes are not red, specifically made that way to not have the same kind of effect the Capitol Police did--Jagada wasn't apart of them anymore, but their landforce armor did come from a Kraven in a sense. The Overlords rushed up the beaches and quickly started yelling in Jagite and Namibian to move back into the city. It was only a matter of time until the entire divison was landed--they were sure to cause a stir. Though Jagada had already recieved Imperial Commonwealth permission to enter into this engagement--purely to put down an insurgency. This was sure to ensure that no Malkeryi soldiers were present in Walvis Bay--being Namibia probably wasn't high on the Imperial Commonwealth's importance roster.

Walvis Bay was in a matter of an hour--completely taken. The Jagites, however, were not here to be conquors or even liberators--but defenders. They brought with them many things that this city probably didn't have--including miniature fans to cool the people of this city, was which placed in an desert region, the desert being called Namib Desert. Food, water, and medicine were also distrubted to all the people. Sun Li saw no purpose in spending much of what his soldiers would need incase things were rough--espically on a foreign peoples. Though he did know that in order to win this unconvential war, he'd have to do what he did at Inn--earn the people's confidence and trust and respect. Jagites were told to keep their religious, political, racial, and all other beliefs to themselves. This was enforced by the punishment of death. Any Jagite found to disobey these rules would suffer execution. By order of Sun Li himself. This inspired loyalty in the Jagites, whom knew that Sun Li was a rising star and many of the soldiers wanted to keep the Jagite people around, also meaning they wanted to ensure that extermination didn't occur again. Many couldn't understand how erradicating Black Nationalists was protecting their people--but if Sun Li had agreed to it--then so did they.

Walvis Bay was only the start. Within a matter of days the soldiers had taken off their helmets most of time--yes making them open to headshots, but even with the helmet on it wouldn't stop a close-range round, plus the Overlord uniform looked very 'oppressive' to most people. The Jagites conversed with the people. All the while they made the city a fortress, meaning to protect it. They quickly found out whom was in charge of the city offically and unoffically, and ensured that they were on their side. This did include arming the city police with something more than handguns, and it also meant that the criminals were unarmed in exchange for their lives. This would keep Walvis Bay firmly under Jagite control. Though it wasn't over there. Most of the forces stilled remained out on the 3rd Fleet. They came in, in brigade and regiment sizes. First and foremost the 67th Mechanized Divison was brought in, and what awaited them what a fleet of helicopters brought in from the smaller aircraft carriers. Going across unfamiliar desert in very noticeable military vehciles with very foreign flags and military suits wasn't the smartest idea Sun Li could have--thus he opted for aerial transportation. These helicopters came in all shapes and sizes and by the dozen they took off from the various airfields set up inside of the defensive wall of Walvis Bay.

In the scortching sun the 67th Mechanized was moved by air across the desert--all the while the pilots gaining valuble knowledge of the area. Though a city came into their sights the provincial capital of Windhoek. This too probably only maintained a nominal Royal Army garrison--knowing that the Jagites were coming. The 67th Mechanized landed outside of the city and moved in as soon a the first regiment landed. They relieved the Royal Army Garrison of their primary duties and tasked them with being the 'talented' defenders of the city if the 67th should ever be called out of it. The Jagites followed a similar policy in Windhoek that they did in Walvis Bay. They brought in food, medicine, water, and all sorts of modern convineces that would make the people simply flock to the sight of an Overlord. To impress the people, the Jagites sent the Overlords marching down the main street, but allowing the Royal Army personnel to lead the march to show that Jagada was not coming to occupy Namibia or liberate it--only protect it. The Malkyeri National Anthem was also played during this instead of the Jagite one--mainly because the Jagite National Anthem was almost considered 'rock music' by most nations.

Thus as the Overlord's marched threw the streets of Windhoek--the Jagite presnece in this war was absolutely certain.

[OOC: Malkyer...I figured we could skip the formality of me sending ambassadors and going threw the ten page posting of convincing you we're not evil, and then spending five more posts getting your approval for our entrance--not that it would take that long, but you know what I mean. If there is some conflict with me landing in Namibia--please simply TG me. Thanks.]

[OOC: No worries, man.]

Gordon picked up his phone, answering it out of habit even though he didn't recognize the number. After hearing the words spoken on the other end, he quickly gestured to another man in his office. Keys were hit as satellites began the process of triangulating the call.

Casually, he responded. "Perhaps, perhaps not. I doubt I'll like it, but maybe it's worth something. What exactly is it?"

*****

Alphonse Perides was a nervous wreck. "The Emperor will have my head."

His advisors issued a collective sigh. Young Alphonse was neither as intelligent nor as politically savvy as his father. "M'lord, the Emperor approved the decision. You know full well that Jagadan ships would never enter our territorial waters without his express permission."

"But they've already overrun Namibia. What if they decide to keep it?" The Viceroy had been in charge less than a year when the Kraven-dominated Jagadans had invaded Africa, upsetting the delicate status quo. Understandably, he was still afraid of them.

"Kraven is gone from Jagada. They are repaying a debt of honor. Surely you can understand that? Besides, given their performance I doubt the insurgency will continue for long in the areas they hold.

*****

To reiterate, militarily the terrorist can never win. Whilst he can never be totally destroyed (simply because he blends so perfectly into the civilian population) militarily he cannot destroy trained security forces. Frelimo, for example, could never have physically overcome 60,000 troops; its victory lay in the paralysis of the will to resist; a paralysis which resulted from a defeatism emerging from a totally unimaginative military approach. Had the Portuguese not placed their faith in a ponderous inflexible conscript army (which could have no real stake in Mozambique) instead of compact flexible forces drawn from the indigenous population (which would in fact have been defending its homeland) the result would have been very different.
-S. MONICK, B.A., A.L.A.
Ministry of Information
Rhodesia, no date.
(Was reprinted from "Assegai", August, 1975.)


Across the African Viceroyalty, a new approach was being taken to combat the continuing insurgency. While the deployment of irregular and special operations forces had seen much success in the bush country of the Viceroyalty's northern stretches, rebellious forces continued to control considerable amounts of territory in the Namib desert, and in the Highveld of central South Africa and Rhodesia. Politically, the rebels could not be allowed to deny territory to the Royal Army. If the insurgents were able to coalesce a solid front line, they would be able to declare themselves rightfully independent; their government legitimate not because of the just morality of its rule, but rather by its ability to hold a stable frontier.

While the Royal Intelligence Agency and the Ministry of Defense remained confident in the feasibility and ultimate success of their COIN operation, the operation was not achieving enough results in a fast enough time. The embarassing loss of an RIA team in Bulawayo a week earlier only spurred the politician's ire. The Royal Army leadership saw this opportunity, and exploited. Several divisions of the Royal Army were mobilized and deployed to the central Viceroyalty.

So far the main deployment of conventional forces had been assigned to the protected villages and towns of the Viceroyalty, along with units assigned to patrol railways and safeguard large-scale agricultural operations and power stations. Operations against insurgents in the field were largely conducted by RIA teams and military COIN units. Several light divisions of Royal Army troops, largely from the Australian Viceroyalty, were to be deployed around Bloemfontein, and from there move northeast, driving insurgents out of the mountainous highveld into the garrisoned forces around cities and protected towns. One officer compared to a giant hammer smashing down on a dozen anvils at one time.

Malkyeri Namibia

Sun Li stood in his office, surronded by various Corps Commanders. The garrisoning of Gobabis and Rehoboth were completed--placing the 119th and 45th Infantry in both cities--these were only brigade sized elements. Sun Li had received intelligance report from the Malkyeris that most of the Namib Desert was controlled by the insurgents--he hadn't expected them to be in the deserts, but in the cities. This complicated things, but it was not beyond his abilities. To try and march the Overlords arcross the desert would be near suicide--the logistical problems that would ensue if the insurgency decided to begin attacking the logistics train. Not something Sun Li wanted. Though at the same time, he had to route them from this desert region and unconvential forces would have the disadvantage of not knowing the terrain and being easily led into a trap.

Convential forces would suffer a similar problem--but would have numbers and impossing feeling about them. Small skirmishes would errupted by the convential forces could easily crush the rebels--even if those convential forces were starving and dying of thirst. The best solution was combination of both. The Overlords would send in the special forces, known as the Phantoms, into the deserts with the assistance of helicopters. These rebels could not survive in the middle of a desert--that was the glorious thing about such places. They could travel around it all they desired, but they eventually had to come back for supplies. The Jagites would exploit this.

With that, dozens of helicopters left from Walvis Bay--their headquarters and flew all around the Namib Desert--searching not for bands of insurgents, and even if finding them, not firing. They instead found villages, and villages meant there was a well, and a well meant that the insurgents would use them to sustain themselves. Take away the water--you take away the life of the insurgency. No man, no matter how dedicated to his ideaology and his people's freeomd would allow himself to die in a desert due to thirst. Sun Li knew what the insurgents would eventually do--try to go into the cities where they would meet the Overlords and the Secret Police known as the Kensai, whom were trained in ancient sword styles and would prove a deadly security force, or they would try to fight for the various small settlements and villages in the area. Though, no black nationalist would stand a chance against an Overlord, more or less a platoon of them.

For days the helicopters made maps out of these areas, and soon the Overlords and Phantoms were called in. They boarded transport helicopters and headed towards the target area, supported by attack helicopters. Dozens of occupations would take place. The transport helicopters would fly low towards the ground, with the assault helicopters zooming around the town in a circle with their gatling guns aimed at the population. The Overlord's jumped out, and made loud thuds--surely showing the population this wasn't the Royal Army they were dealing with. The Overlords quickly moved in and forced everyone into their homes for a moment. The Overlords then began the process of fortifying these settlements, and asking locals in Namibian where the local wells and such where. The Overlords than began the task of helping the natives of these various villages with fixing things up, helping old men do manual labour, and helping bring nessecary water from the well into the city. The Jagites were basically nessecary to these people now, they controlled the well, and thus these villages existances. The Jagites attempted to bond more or less with the people show them that the Imperial Commonwealth wasn't nessecarily bad--for them anyway. They lived in a desert with no resources, no strategic importance and in the borders of a Commonwealth. If that didn't work, the Jagites simply pointed out the ruthless murders committed by the insurgents and the fact that they killed even children--and then pointed out that children didn't oppress blacks and thus these insurgents killed randomly--meaning it could happen to them if they were independant. Either way--the populations were subdued.

Then it was simply a matter of making the Phantoms the scouts of the villages and the Overlords the protectors. Eventually the Insurgents would come to these villages and they would have to fight the Jagites--and this would be their downfall.

Dust billowed in the hot, still air as the convoy rolled down the stretch of road in between Harare and Kariba. Several two-and-a-half ton trucks, along with a few Humvees, were carrying supplies to the protected village on the north-east shore of the lake there. They were on a particularly lonely piece of road, with no movement in sight for several kilometers. The rumble of diesel engines drowned out birds and the wind. Soldiers manning the .50 caliber machine guns on top of the Humvees turned their guns in slow circles, scanning the horizon. Nothing, and then something.

The convoy ground to a halt when the front tires of the lead Humvee exploded. Muttering a curse, the driver opened his door and got out to examine his vehicle. Kneeling down, he noticed something. "The road's lined with barbed wire. Shit, look out!" He shouted this as the brush on either side of the road began blazing with automatic weapons fire. A bullet caught him in the back, and as he fell he pushed the door of the Humvee shut. Inside, the lieutenant in command of the mission reached for a switch on the dashboard as the gunner above him fired at the attackers. Throwing the switch, he triggered a command-detonation of several Claymore anti-personnel mines lining the sides of the convoy's trucks. Thousands of tiny steel pellets were shot at supersonic speeds into the bush, killing eleven attackers and wounding several more.

A roaring noise began to be heard in the air, masked by the chattering of machine guns. Moments later, helicopter gunships appeared over a low rise, firing their miniguns into the bush. Rockets puntucated the assault, adding trails of smoke and brilliant explosions to the mix. More helicopters appeared, three in all. The lowered to the ground, flaring just before landing and dropping off teams of SAS troopers. As two dozen special forces soldiers vanished into the bush in pursuit of the surviving guerrillas, the soldiers from the convoy disembarked and began aiding their wounded. A squad was detailed to drag enemy dead and wounded from the bush. The trap was a success, with thirty enemy wounded and fourteen dead, to three Malkyeri wounded.

Two gunships stayed on station to monitor the situation, while the others began flying in search patterns, hunting down rebels and attempting to herd them towards either the SAS in the bush or the garrison at Kariba, which had dispatched troops upon receiving radio confirmation of the attack on the convoy.

*****

In the mountainous highveld of the Rhodesian-South African border, Kibwe Farai was led to a secluded spot, where he would meet the overall leader of this war for independence. It took several hours to reach the spot, and once they were there they were forced to wait another few minutes in order to make sure that no satellites were overhead. They followed another secluded trail, this one masked by a rocky overhang. The rebel leader, who called himself simply Hermano, certainly had a sense of dramaticism.

Malkyeri Namibia

The wind of the desert blew harshily as it seemed like a lone Phantom laid in the hot desert sand. The wind slowly pushing the sand over him, to where it seemed like only his eye lenses could be see--and then only by one with a sharp eye. He was scouting the area around one of the many nameless villages and groupings of houses in the Namib Desert. He looked out across the vast desert, never moving his head or his eye. His armors internal systems providing enough cooling for him to remain comfortable in the field for hours. For hour he'd laid on the ground, the desert sand slowly overtaking his body without even a sign of anything alive beyond the occasional snake and scorpion that would pass by his face. He was about to move, to begin to repower his suits cooling unit when suddenly he saw something--almost like metal glimmering out in the distance.

He stayed motionless as the figure grew in size and reduced in distance. Finally he realized it wasn't just one figure, but many. And it was the various figures of men on camels. As they came even closer he noticed they weren't simply merchants or nomads--they had AK-47s and various Soviet-styled weapons with them. He already had his helmet cut off from the outside world--ensuring that if he spoke it would only be heard by him and his comrades on the end of the comm link. He waited, counting them as they came, checking their equipment with his eyes--checking them out with his eyes also, to see what kind of men they were. Most were simlpy young men, looking no older than twenty--that would explain why the village they were protecting had only a handful of elderly men, and the rest women. As they finally walked right over him virtually, missing him by a hair, he spoke into his comm link, "Twenty camel lovers inbound, young and they are well armed," he said. He wouldn't get a reply back but instead a green link would blink in his HUD indicating that his message was recieved. Thus his part in this villages protection was half over, not all twenty men would survive but those they fled would run into his or another one of the Phantom's rifles.

Back at the village, much was happening. The people were being told to go into their homes and remain there until further notice. As the people did go into their homes the Overlords set up their defenses--the camel lovers as they were nicknamed by the Jagites, would not see these defenses at first, but once they entered gun range they would. The commander of the Overlord Platoon, a Major Zin, kneeled down behind a sand barrier made by himself for protection. As the Insurgents came closer and closer he kept his team on standby--doing this by not raising his fist into the air. As the Insurgents got closer and closer the tension mounted. They were within fifty yards of the village when the fist of Zin raised into the air. Suddenly a firestorm errupted, as Overlords appeared out of nowhere and began to send a wall of lead at the Insurgents. Immiedately four of them fell off their camels, while twice that number of camels fell to the ground--victims of a war they knew nothing about. The remaining Insurgents were crafty, those with camels realized their only chance would be to storm the village, and they did just that. They rode forward on their camels at full speed while firing bursts off at any area that the Jagites might be. Zin growled as a burst grazed past him, and a round even took a small slice of his black armor with it as it grazed by. He watched as a camel rushed by him--defying the bullets that were sure to be zooming around it. He spun around and fired a burst off, hitting the camel's legs, sending it to the ground. Appearntly this young man, who quickly got up and began firing wildly, was the husband of some woman in the village. This was assumed because as he fell off he rushed to a door and began banging on it, shouting something in Namibian, the door opened and he rushed inside. Firing out of the window. Zin looked back up over the sand mound to see the remnants of the Insurgents fleeing--the Phantoms would finish them off.

His men didn't come out singing in joy as they usually did--because the battle was not over. The man whom was in the house was still alive and firing bursts out--he'd already injured an Overlord whom attempted to advance towards the house. Zin rushed forward, the house was situtated at a point that if he moved across the window to get into a field of firing that could hit Zin--then the platoon sniper could hit him and take him out with a single shot. Either way--Zin wins. The insurgent never even bother to glance in Zin's direction, and in a matter of moments he was right next to the door of the house. He signaled his men to lay down withering fire, they did so with optimal efficency, litterally breaking down a small part of the wall. Zin took two steps from the door and rushed forward--kicking the small fragile wooden door and litterally knocking it a few feet into the house. He didn't both to check and see if his leg was alright, he rushed into the home, which was illiuminated in the day's sun. He saw the Insurgent with his back to him and raised his rifle. Firing a burst, the insurgent never even had a chance to turn around. The women of the house rushed over to him and begin to cry almost insanely. Zin simply kneeled down and lowered his head--saying a small prayer for the Insurgent who'd had to die in front of his wife and children. He knew a few words in Namibian and said one of the, "Sorry."

Part of him didn't care if the man died, the other part felt for the family. Neither part cared for the man--just having to kill him in front of his family wasn't smart--it would enrage the population of the village, but he felt he'd done enough 'clean up' on the situtation to defuse any possible future hatred. He walked back outside of the house and counted his troops that were assembled in the center of the village--he'd only last one.

Suddenly his comm link came alive, "Major, sir, the camel lovers have been sent to Judgement."

Zin nodded--score one for Jagada.

Thorn began, "Major Gordon, my name is Nathan Thorn, I'm the Economic Attache in the Upper Weston consulate to Malkyer. I have some information for on your rebels if you're interested."

Gordon sat up in his office chair, gesturing to one of the men by a computer. A search of the RIA database was quick in finding that, yes, one Nathan Thorn was indeed the Economic Attache to the Upper Weston consulate. A few more seconds provided whatever available personal information that was a part of his consulate profile, including a photo. A match was unlikely, but voice records were searched as well.

Another man by another terminal scribbled a note and held it to where Gordon could see. Thirty-five. Half a minute and the call would be successfully traced. A helicopter was already in the air.

"Mr. Thorn, I'm sure you know full well that all authorities are very interested in whatever information you can give us."

*****

Bamidele Uzochi keep his gun as steady as he could while in the back of a jeep, speeding through the rough Mozambican bush at nearly sixty miles an hour. Keeping the .50 caliber gun mounted in the back of the technical was difficult, but he managed. He had too. Trailing his group of vehicles were two Spartan LAVs of the Royal Army. Though the armored vehicles were slower than the technicals, it was not difficult to miss the path the trucks were tearing through the underbrush. If the LAVs caught the trucks, their heavier guns would tear through the technicals.

Bamidele’s group’s hope lay a couple of kilometers off. In about three minutes, the rebels would reach the Mozambican-Tanzanian frontier, and would be able to cross into Khailfah al-Musilmeen East Africa. Once there, they would have a sufficient lead over the Royal Army units to be able to abandon their trucks and disappear into the bush on foot. The Malkyeri may bring in a team of those damnable trackers, but would likely seek permission from the Khailfah authorities first, which would give the rebels more time. Then again, they might not. The Royal Army had been growing bolder as the insurgency progressed, desperate to avoid the same failure as the American or French armies in Vietnam.

Moments later, a cheer from the lead vehicle signaled that they insurgents had cross the frontier and were now safe from further pursuit by the Royal Army, at least concerning international law and customs on the subject. After driving another kilometer, the men stopped and disembarked, stripping their vehicles of supplies, ammunition, and weapons, but leaving the big machine guns, as those would be too difficult to carry. With that, the dozen men split into three groups of four that would head north for now, deeper into KLM territory, but would turn later, heading west, southwest, and east.

*****

Lieutenant Jamie Mace looked through his field binoculars at the path torn in the underbrush. He leaned against the side of his LAV, and immediately stepped forward. Having more surface area exposed to the air on this hot day was worth sacrificing the ability to lean against something. He looked through the glasses again, and laughed. About three klicks away, the path ended, and though he could not see the insurgents, it was fairly obvious that the vehicles were abandoned. Having a pretty good guess as to their plan, he walked around to the back of the LAV and looked through the door.

“Harry, radio on KLM frequencies that some of our rebels have crossed into their territory. Request permission to enter with armed force, but let ‘em know that we’ve got other things to occupy us, if their Black Hawks are bored.”

OOC: Your go, KLM.

Outpost of 18th Regiment AMI Border Guards, KLM East Africa Frontier

Captain Mansur Ngozi was just got into in his office, and was going do to the days paperwork, he was out on patrol with his regiment in the bush regions, he was very tired and very easier annoyed. Then his phone rang and commands inform him about Malkyer African rebels has cross into the frontier in KLM lands.

The Captain quickly out his officers and soldiers under his command…he told them they are going hunt for rebels…and their orders were to take no prisoner, the 18th regiment of Border Guards, was about the size of 2,000 soldiers and plus officers, with a number of vehicles.

With in a matter of 20 minutes the regiment was send out in the bush in the hunt for Malkyer African rebels with the support of eight army corp. OH-58D Kiowa Warrior Reconnaissance Helicopters, they did a gird by gird search of the area. After nearly two hours of searching the area, they spotted the rebels and rely the information to the regiment. Within a matter of minutes the regiment close into area and engage the rebels in the heavy gun battle, 6 broader guards were killed in the exchange and yet most of the rebels were killed by the KLM border guards. After killing the rebels, the Border Guards behead the lifeless bodies and put their heads on pikes. Then they dove to frontier between Malkyer Africa and KLM East Africa , and they put in the pikes on the frontier to show as warning to whoever wanted to cross into their lands as safehaven.

Shortly after this incident, the KLM General Staff order the 51st Army (Base in East Africa) under the command of General Isaias Afewerki to deploy along the fortier regions to support the border guard regiments in keeping the rebels out.

51st Army (Base in East Africa) under the command of General Isaias Afewerki
126th Division
127th Division
128th Division
129th Division

Ex of the Army core
40,000 men arm with XM8 Lightweight Assault Rifle and RPGs
800 T-90
600 T-95s
1000 Type 98 Main Battle Tank
1200 BMP-4(Troop transport)
600 Jaguar 2 Tank destroyer [with TOW]
200 G5: 155mm towed gun Howitzer
100 The PzH 2000 155mm self propelled howitzer
200-2S6M Tunguska Anti-Aircraft Artillery
200 TOS-1 Buratino 220mm Multiple Rocket Launcher
100 Ka-52 HOKUM B / Alligator Attack Helicopter
200 MI-24P (MI-25 AND MI-35) HIND ATTACK/TRANSPORT HELICOPTER)

Standards Weapons of the Army Corps, Marine Corps, Air Force, Reserves Corps, Army of fighters Corps,EU Dominion Army and Marine Corps.

XM8 Lightweight Assault Rifle
FN P90 Submachine gun
HK USP Handgun
OSV-96 Large caliber sniper rifle
Dragunov SVD sniper rifle
NSV-12.7 Machine Gun
Saiga 12(shotgun)
RPG-29( Anti Tank)

To: Imperial Commonwealth of Malkyer
From: Khailfah al Muslimeen

Dear Sirs

We have been watching recent events in your Africa colonies; the rebellions in those areas have deeply made our regional governments in West Africa and East Africa very uneasy. Just we offer to send your nation aid. We offer to send two AMI Black Hawk Brigades (8,000 soldiers in total.); these two special operations detachments are training in counter insurgency tactics. Also the Imperial Government offers to send a number of advisers to aid your government in the region on the matters of countering these insurgents…We awaited your message.


Sign
Sultan Suleiman al Bashir II

"Not over the phone Major. Meet me at Nyala's in Pretoria at 6:00 PM tomorow and come alone."

With that thorn ended the call and threw the cell phone out the window.

The rebellions starting up seemed to be proceeding well...it would not be long for the Nambian government before they would have real menaces to deal with. The Amazonians would see to that...being slightly unoccupied with war as it was. The rebels needed a serious boost, though, to have any shot at all of coming out victorious in this fight for freedom. That boost they shall have, though it would come from the coffers of the Amazonian treasury.
The Emperor and the government knew that they had to act quick to still get in contact with the government to have much of a chance to contact them. Since they were nothing but meager rebels, citizens uprising against a stronger, more advanced government, the usual tactic of an encrypted telecommunication was out the window. Something more personal wouldm have to be arranged for the operation to work. And there were few for the job...but only a few were needed. The first package could be sent as well, and seeing how the trip would be somewhat long, over potentially dangerous areas, the air group transporting the man and the packages would have to be well escorted.
At 3 AM, three men stood at the airstrip to take them off. A C-4 cargo plane stood, propellors starting to warm up, as the last of the contents of the first package were put on board a few other cargo planes. Several interceptors and attack fighters stood nearby, pilots in the cockpits, ready for escort duty.

OOC: my computer is fired so it might be a while before I can post again, I'm on a public terminal right now

-=Malkyeri Namibia=-

Seargant Gears sat back as the Transport Helicopter wisked threw the hot, dry air that was the Namib Desert. He replayed this conflict in his mind, and simply couldn't shake the one commandment that was constantly broken by Jagite soldiers--Thou Shalt Not Kill. He had wrestled with his mind and soul over this. So far he'd killed only three black nationalists since his arrival, nothing to be proud of. Though...this was for Jagada's survival--was it not? If these black nationalists weren't stopped they'd just fuel the Kraven war machine in its quest to consume all nations. Jagada, or so he'd been told, was in a race against time. Few in Jagada thought the Freeks would fair well against the Kravenites a second time--not with Whyatica and Neo Kraven involved this time around, needless to say the Surpreme State was stronger than ever. In Jagada a feeling of 'heroism' was setting in. The preachers and pastors of Jagada spoke in one accord that it was Jagada' destiny to put Kraven in its place to stop the Capitol Police, to push back the madness-driven Saudraukar--to repay the World for the pain Jagada had helped supply. Even now across the battlefields of the world, Jagite Capitol Police were cutting down children in a mad bloodlust desire to please 'Father'. Rumors were abound, however, that Riyabuo had developed something. Some said it was a new time of military unit, others said it was a plan. These rumors went so far as to say that Riyabuo is in league with 'Father' to bring Jagada back into the Kravenite Fold. Such fearmongering was unbecoming of a civilization that was almost whiped out.

His mind snapped back into focus with a Phantom next to him tapped him on the shoulder, he turned to see three fingers in the air--three minutes until they reached their target zone. Gears gave a thumbs up and then began to double check his equipment--as he did so he pondered on weather any of the other soldiers in his squad had the same feelings as he did--if they hated having to kill, even if it was in self-defense, as much as he did. Nevertheless, Sun Li was leading this campaign and he was truly a man of God. He knew what he was doing, if no one else did. God willing, this would be over soon.

The helicopter became a slow decent to the ground, ropes came off the sides as the helicopter hovered several feet in the air. The Phantoms grabbed the rope, five of them in all, and slid down. Gear felt his feet warm up, despite the cooling system the Phantom armor had the moment his feet his the hot sands of the Namib Desert. Immiedately his squad formed up and he gave a wave which the helicopter pilot replied the same and then the helicopter took off. His men had already established a premeter, which was apart of 'forming up'. All of them gave a thumbs up. They them slowly formed into a circle, each of them looking in a differently direction but their attention focused on Seargant Gears.

"Remeber kids, this isn't an air mission, we are to expect heavy resistance," he said, "Their camp is about a mile northeast of this location. Remeber our objective is simple--total destruction of the camp and its occupants."

One of his men spouted up, "Sir, what about civs?"

Gears had been told no civilians where in the air--as were his men, but the question stood. "No civ frags. You wound them only if you have to."

In his helmet four green lights lit it up--confirmation from his men. "Closed radio communication from this point. Understood?"

He heard clicks in his earpiece as he and his men changed to 'helmet silence', which effectively meant that they could speak, but no one would hear it outside the helmet, it meant they were relying a lot on the squad communications system built into all their suits. Gears spoke up after four gree lights blinked in his help, "Move out."

A march across the desert wasn't something fun, and considered the sand in this particular area seemed to try to absorb them with every step--it make stealth and quickness all the worse. Gears was getting angry, but not at the sand, at the fact that he was sure there was scouts out here. "Red Five, get up on a dune and frag any peeping toms."

A green link blinked in Gears helmet as suddenly Johnston, whom one could only tell was him now that he was moving--as all Phantoms looked alike, took off at was seemed like a slow pace but was probably his top speed. He eventually reached the dune and laid down, crawling up the side of it and then placing his sniper rifle on the top of the sand dune. He peered into the scope and realize just how much sand there--but other than that it seemed pacified. Though about a thousand yards away he saw small tents, and several men walking around with camels tied up or standing around. He knew Gears wouldn't like it, but he spoke up. "Sir, no peepers here. They seem pre-occupied with drinking in their camp. I have a good vantage point, shall I remain and provide some shock and awe fire before yawl go in?" A green light blinked in Johnston's helmet--Gears confirmation.

Gears and his men then took another route--if they were spotted he didn't want to be in the cross fire that would errupt between Johnston and the Insurgents--such would probably decimate both sides. Johnston could shoot a sniper better than anyone he knew--but the fact was Johnston often got close to friendly targets with his rounds for unknown reasons. As Gears and the remaining three members of his team walked over another sand dune they got an unexpected surprise. A young, no older than fifteen, black male standing there with an AK-47 trying to go up the other side of the dune. Gears and the young made eye contact--and for a moment all was silent. Gears went to deactivate his comm unit to speak so that the boy could hear him--but when he did the boy went to raise his rifle. Immiedately the members of Gear's team sent the boy to the dry sand in a short but accurate burst of gunfire. Gears didn't even look at the boy after he fell, he knew if he did he'd loose his focus. Tis was the way the World spins--only living for Christ can ensure a better tomorrow, a tomorrow where fifteen year-olds didn't die needlessly. "Is everyone alright?" asked Gears. Four green lights blinked in his helmet. "Red Five, we found a peeper," said Gears.

"Sorry, sir," said Johnston. Gears let out a sigh then signaled his men to continue.

As Gears and his men got within four hundred yards of the encampment--appoarching from the east instead of the south--Gears decided it was time to lay down the battleplan. He went to a knee, and pointed towards the camp, this effectively broke the instant command to form a defensive circle. "Red Two and Four, you will lead the assault into the camp, no civ frags, other than that kill anything that moves, understood?" said Gears. Two green lights blinked and he moved on. "Red Three, you and I will go to the northern end of the camp and provide covering fire. Red Four, note that," said Gears. Two more confirmation lights blinked in his helmet. Gears then sent a red light to his entire team, a signal to being. Red Two and Four immiedately went forward on their own, going from dune to dune to avoid detection and to provide cover incase they were detected. Gears and Red Three took off towards the the northern end of the encampment using the same tactic of going from dune to dune. It took about fifteen minutes, but as they reached their destinations, each member sent red lights into Gears helmet.

Gears and Red Three took up a position about twenty yards from the most outter hut of the encampement--which was actually rather large. Gears slowly creeped up the side of the dune, as did Red Three. Gears slowly laids slide his Hali-42 Assault Rifle into a firing position. Red Three had a the team's heavy weapons and a small selection of demolitions. Red Three placed the JGPMG (Jagite General Purpose Machine Gun) which differed from the Kraven verison a lot, as the JGPMG wasn't very technologically advanced, but it was rugged enough for the Phantoms to use. Gears then sent another signal of red lights to his comrades. By instinct they knew what to do. Gears was looking threw his scope about to squeeze the trigger went he noticed an Insurgent inside the camp fall to the ground in a heap--Red Five was doing his job. Gears and Red Three pulled their weapon's triggers and sent a hailstorm at the unsuspecting Nationalists camp. Red Two and Four were no where to be seen--but Gears had faith in them. Though as the Nationalists began to form a battle line, despite the fact that occasionally one or two of them would mysteriously fall to the ground with a rather large hole in their back--Red Five's work. The battle line solidified and return fire was being given to himself and Red Three. As sand shot up into the air around them as the Insurgent firing was getting more and more accurate. Gears kept firing, as did Red Three but his faith in Red Two and Four began to wane a bit. Suddenly two explosions rocked the Insurgent battle line, sending bodies up into the air and causing two holes in the line. Two more explosions rocked the same battleline and now the Insurgents weren't sure where the enemy was coming from. Many broke from the line, and their only source or chance of victory and began to fire wildly, in all directions. Friendly fire became common almost insantly amoung the Insurgents. Suddenly Gears saw Red Two and Four coming out from behind one of the huts and picking off Insurgents left and right--they had caused so much confusion that the Insurgents didn't even fire back at them, they simply fled. Some attempted to flee out towards the desert, but one by one almost five to ten yards apart they fell as Red Five earned his paycheck. Red Two and Four continued their drive into the encampment, riddling almost all the huts with bullets, as the last of the Insurgents were quickly finished off.

The gunfire quit for about five seconds and then Gears decided that was too long, "Report."

The voice of Red Two came online, "Sir, Insurgent Encampment neutralized."

"Health status," stated Gears. Three green lights blinked--one yellow, and it came from Red Five.

Gears spoke up, "Red Five, injury report."

"Sir, got hit in the arm, enemy who delivered is neutralized though," he stated.

"Red Four, patch up Red Five. Red Two secure encampment. Red Three, on me," said Gears almost like a machine. As Gears and Red Three made their way down the dune and across the twenty yard stretch of sand he saw Red Four fullfilling his orders. As himself and Red Three entered the encampment he was still in fighting mode, that meaning that he constantly kept his eyes open and his gun aiming in all directions. Finally he accepted that no enemies were in the encampment and lowered his weapon. Red Two then appoarched him, and gave a thumbs up, a silent sign of a good mission and compliment.

"Red Two, open up a comm link with command, tell them we've got wounded. Minor Status. Inform them that the mission has been completed and the Insurgent Headquarters of Namib Desert has been neutralized. No leadership was found," he stated.

He said no leadership was found simply because if they were here--there would also be a lot more troops with a lot more weaponry. Such as machine guns, RPG-7s, and there would probably be a few, very old mines around the area. Needless to say though, when the Insurgency leadership did found out about this--they'd have to find a new home to hide in.

OOC: I've been pretty busy these past couple of days (as my final exams are next week), so I apologize for the lack of posting. I'll have something tomorrow.

To: Sultan Suleiman al Bashir II
From: African Viceroyal Ministry of Defense
Subject: RE: Aid

The Viceroyalty of the Cape of Good Hope welcomes the assistance of our venerable allies in the Khailfah al Musilmeen. The addition of your Black Hawk special forces brigades will be a useful asset to our counter-insurgency operations in southern Africa. Basing areas will be made available to the soldiers in Francistown, Botswana.

The Viceroyalty apologizes for the embarrassing incident which caused your nation to become involved in our fight. It is our hope that in the future the Royal Army will be able to prevent rebels from escaping into the sovereign territory of a foreign power.

*****

Major Gordon parked his car across the street from Nyala’s. Getting out of the vehicle, he turned off his phone, and checked his watch. 5:57 PM. He was early. He chuckled to himself and lit a cigarette. Leaning against his car, he prepped himself mentally for the possible events of the immediate future. Whoever Thorn represented, he was a professional. When an RIA team had arrived at the satellite-fixed position of the phone call, they’d found the phone tossed out a window and smashed to bits. Gordon hadn’t expected anything radically different, but it clued him in to a few things about this…informant wasn’t the right word, but neither was adversary.

Coughing, he dropped his cigarette to the street and stamped it out with his foot before proceeding across the street at six o’clock sharp.

*****

Taonga Nkemdire stumbled through the bush, bloody and lost. His sole protection in the woodlands and savannah of northern Mozambique was a nine-millimeter pistol with five rounds, and a spare clip. He had been lost for some time, desperately trying to escape the pursuing KLM border guards. As far as he was aware, he was the only insurgent to make it back into Malkyeri territory alive. He had seen from a distance the heads of his comrades on spikes along the frontier, and was convinced that the al Musilmeen soldiers were devils.

He crested a small hill, and was overjoyed to see a small stream at the bottom. He ran down, abandoning stealth and bushcraft in his thirst. Throwing himself down, he drank until he felt he would be sick. He raised up a little on his knees, and wiped his mouth. It was then he noticed a pair of military-style boots on the opposite bank. Looking up further, he saw three men less than a meter away, all heavily armed. Taonga panicked for a second, and then realized something. These men were black Africans, filthy as he with the dust and sweat of the bush. Their camouflage was not the neat tiger-stripe of the Royal Army, but a blotchy and seemingly mismatched bunch of mottled greens and browns. He had found friends.

“Brothers,” he began, “you must help me!” When no answer came, Taonga tried again in Shona.

The man whose boots Taonga had first noticed smiled. His teeth were oddly white and straight in his dark face. “Why is that, brother? You look as if you have seen a demon.”

“I have. Days ago a dozen comrades and I crossed the frontier, running from the Royals. But the KLM’s border guards caught us, and…”

“I know. We’ve seen the pikes ourselves.” There was no pity in his voice.

“I…I’m afraid, brother. Even the Royals aren’t so horrible as that.”

“No, no they are not. You’ve not had any contact with command since you crossed the border?”

“Ah…no. Why do you ask? Should I have?” Confusion reigned on Taonga’s face, his mind still stunned by what he had seen.

“No reason,” was the sole reply, followed by an almost imperceptible nod. A gunshot rang out from the brush behind Taonga, and the insurgent fell into the stream. He died on his knees, having never stood. His blood turned the water a dirty crimson. Chima Ndidi stepped out of the bush, chambering another round in his rifle.

Olukayode Themba frowned at the dead man in front of him, and lifted his rifle from the ground. He jerked his head to the south, and it was clear that the team would continue tracking the enemy, hunting them like wolves. Within a minute of the gunshot, the area around the stream was deserted, occupied only by a dead man and the flies buzzing around the hole in his head. There weren’t even footprints to prove that his killers had so much as existed.

With the permission granted from Malkyer government to send the AMI Black Hawks and the advisers, the KLM General Staff quickly mobilize the following AMI Black Hawks Brigades (8,000 soldiers in total), they were send to via air transport to South Africa.

14th East African Black Hawks Brigade aka “ Typhoons”

19th West African Black Hawks Brigade aka “ Jungle”

Arms uses by Black Hawks (Special Operations detachments)
AK-103 assault rifle
9a-91 assault rifle
AKSU assault rifle (modified AK-103 with folding stock, short barrel, altered sight and gas mechanism)
GP 25 underbarrel grenade launcher for AK 103
FN P90 Submachine gun
HK USP Handgun


Plus the follewing Al Muslimeen Advisers were following were to send to Cape Town, to help the Malkyer Viceroy for the region in conducting the war to crush the rebellion.

Flag Rank Commander Siddig El Fadil, of the Imperial Black Guards, second in command of the Sultan Personal Body Guards.

Colonel Amcazade Hüseyin Pasha Köprülü, officer in the Black Hawk Corp.

Ambassador Karl Landsteiner, the KLM Ambassador to Malkyer

Deputy Defense Minister Hassan Mustafa al Mwinyi (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v504/Ottoman01/a716def2.jpg)

Thorn was seated at the back of the cafe so he could watch anyone who entered. He watched as Major Gordon entered and looked around, within moments the man he'd paid approached and pointing the Malykeri officer to his table. Now it was time for business.

OOC: I'm gonna be out of town for a couple days, so it might 2-3 days bfore I post again.

Malkyer Mozambique

The Two AMI Black Hawk Brigades were deployed in Mozambique, they were all para dropped in the bush lands. They broke up into groups of 20 to 50 men; they spread themselves all over the bush lands of Mozambique.. Their goals was to began night raids on the rebel encampments, a trade mark of the Black Hawks, they never attack in the day light…only during the night, they attacked and the day they rested. Each of these groups maintains radio silence and was independent of each other.

The first victims of Black Hawks…

Midnight local time

Major Muhammad Najib ar-Ruba’I and 20 men under his command were traveling the bush lands for nearly four hours, intill they finally came up to a rebel encampment. The Major rised his right hand up , as a sign for his men to stop. Then he made a number of hand signs to his men for the plan of attack. Within a matter of mintues, the rebels were gather around the camp fire, didn’t know what hit them.

First, Black Hawks open fire at rebels, then they use surpression fire and nailed as many rebels as they could. Then they ran into the camp, with swords in their hands…they quickly beheading a number of rebels. Then the Black Hawks ran back in the bush and disappeared. The Black Hawks repeated these hit and run night raids on rebels all over Mozambique, the Blacks Hawks main goal for now …was to install fear into the rebels minds by doing these kinds of raids over and over again.

As May yielded to June, winter began to take hold of the Viceroyalty. The African Viceroyalty had a climate similar to that of the Mediterranean, and winters were mild. The air outside the station was a balmy twenty-two degrees Celsius, with the air inside a couple of degrees cooler. The welcoming party, consisting of a Foreign Ministry official, an RIA liason, and a couple of military attaches, clustered together around a statue of Andries Pretorius, the man the Viceroyal Capital had been named for. The train from Johannesburg arrived on schedule, and among the passengers would be advisors sent from the KLM to assist the Viceroyal government in its efforts against the insurgents.

As the group of advisors ascended the marble steps into the station, the Foreign Ministry official welcomed them, and showed them to a waiting car which would take them to the Viceroy.

*****

Hermano was scrawny, and looked as if he hadn't eaten properly in weeks. Come to that, he probably hadn't. His hair was stringy and dirty, and his hands were lined with grime. Had Farai not smelled so bad himself, he would have complained about that, too. But such things one got used to in the bush. After a time, the smell of unwashed bodies and refuse blended into the background.

What was most surprising was that Hermano was white. Farai didn't know exactly if he was an Anglo, or an Afrikaner, or some other nationality. "Hermano" was not a name he was familiar with. However, it was an interesting fact to note. In a way, he felt as if he had sold out to the wrong side; even in a war for black liberation, he was still being led by the white man.

After an aide (a servant?) had introduced them, Farai stood for a moment in awkward silence. Finally, he spoke up. "So, what sort of name is that? If you don't mind my asking, sir."

Hermano smiled, but it was a thin smile, and cold. "It's not a name you would be familiar with, I'm afraid. But you really should know better than to ask such personal questions in times such as these...especially in your line of work, Kibwe Farai. Hmm. Suffice it to say that I have failed in my endeavors once, and do not intend to fail again."

Farai did not understand immediately, but continued to listen as Hermano talked. "I saw you start when you saw the color of my skin. Does it bother you to be led by a white man? It doesn't matter, anyway. I hate the Royal Government as much, probably more, than you do. That should be unification enough for us. I have read reports of your actions in the north. Good, good. Go now, and rest. I will speak with you again later."

As Farai was led from the cave and into nearby woods, he wondered if Hermano might be insane. He seemed to ramble, having no clear train of thought. The prospect frightened him, though the feeling was less than he would have expected.

OOC: I'm back, so Malyker we can restart our meeting between Gordon and Thorn.

Nyala's was not an upscale place, but neither was it a sketchy dive in some back alley. Gordon frequented places like this on his nights off; one could get good food and better alcohol in a place of this nature. A ceiling fan spun lazily overhead, stirring the air into something resembling cool. Like most Malkyeri, he still found Africa hot enough to be unpleasant in the summer; but nice in the winter. Maybe his children, if he ever had any, would be better acclimated to the weather.

A man approached Gordon, and the Major acknowledged him with a nod of the head. The man pointed to a back table, where a lone man sat. Gordon thanked the man, and headed for the table. Once he got there, he sat quietly, without introducing himself. It was somewhat unnerving, but the man in question already knew who he was.

Thorn leaned back in his chair and looked at Major Gordon. He slid a simple, manilla folder across the table to Gordon.

"I think you'll find the information there quite interesting."

Gordon took the folder, and leafed through it for a brief moment. Skimming a few sentences here and there, he began mentally piecing everything together. "So...Anything else? Specifically who you are and why you're doing this?"

Gordon didn't really expect an answer, but who knew? Maybe he would get lucky.

As the car ride to Viceroy Estate was going to take some time.Flag Rank Commander Siddig El Fadil, Colonel Amcazade Hüseyin Pasha Köprülü, Ambassador Karl Landsteiner, and Deputy Defense Minister Hassan Mustafa al Mwinyi were spoken along themselves in Arabic and say the following

“ Oh bloody hell…isn’t this Viceroy…some kind of pansies?” remarket Colonel Amcazade

“ That’s what I heard….and he is a major block head…constantly asking his advisers for advice on nearly everything.” Said Flag Rank Commander Siddig

“Plus he only got the job…because his father was the Viceroy…and he is a bloody noble….I have a half mind to punch for beings a moron…”remarked Deputy Defense Minister Hassan

“ Of course…don’t we all want to punch the moron…tell you what….whoever gets to punch the bloody…moron first…gets a free steak dinner on me. Now Colonel Amcazade what’s the latest update from the Black Hawks units in the region?” asked Ambassador

“ Last checked…my forces are currently doing hit and run operations…and so far successful…I am expecting a update within the hour…oh look…we’re here…” remarked the Colonel

The KLM advisers got out of the car and headed off to meet the Viceroy for their meeting..

Thorn lit a cigar, he smoked them from time to time but never inhaled, and pondered Gordon's question.

"Let's just say I have no interest in seeing these insurgents win and I'm prepared to offer my services in helping you eliminate them."

bump

Gordon took Thorn's lighting of his cigar as permission to light his own, and he pulled a cigarette and lighter from his coat pocket. The way he held the lighter put pressure on the front of the lighter, which triggered a radio beacon inside the lighter, which in turn alerted the waiting RIA van two streets down that Gordon would be a few more moments.

"I suppose just as many want to see this insurgency fail as do succeed. But as to your services? I suppose you speak in terms of a foreign intelligence service, Upper Weston's most likely?"

*****

As the Foreign Ministry car pulled up to the main Viceroyal Office, several aides came up to the cars and opened up doors, while a senior official led the Khailfah officials. Leading them into the building, he took them to the Viceroy's private office, where they were introduced to the Viceroy and offered tea and coffee.

"So, gentlemen, I understand you are hear to help me run this war. I must say I appreciate this. I am a bit inexperienced in such matters, I am afraid."

The Khailfah government officials and military officers bite their tongues when the Viceroy remark about how inexperience he was in such matters…that’s an understatement of the matter. But they bite their tongues out of respect for the Malkyer government.

Ambassador Karl Landsteiner finally spoke up

“And that’s why we’re here, Viceroy to help advise you on this situation for the good of your nation and insure stability for the region. “

Then Colonel Amcazade Hüseyin Pasha Köprülü spoke up

“Also I am please to report my forces in Mozambique are suppressing the rebellion successful so far…I believe my forces will root out all elements of the rebellion for that region in only in a matter of time. Also I am item of interest, I must reported there is a rumor of some white leader who will free the Africans from Malkyer rule….I need to know if their any more information on this matter…normally I would disregard such nonsense…yet my officers keep on repeating the same thing from their meeting with capture rebels….I need to know more about this..”

“Yes, this is a quite a paradox…a white man leading a nationalist black rebellion…such a paradox..” remarked Flag Rank Commander Siddig El Fadil, has he sip his tea

"My country has considerable resources, just because we keep a low profile doesn't mean we don't see things," Thorn spoke. "Officially Upper Weston is neutral in this matter. Unofficially we want this insurgency to fail miserably and are prepared to help. I already have 7 of my best men in country preparing to move on rebel leaders and sympathizers." In fact Thorn had more than 20 operatives under his control, but there was no need for Gordon to know that. "As a show of our support, I will deliver the corpse of Samuel Cross, a key rebel leader in Mojatu Province to you by weeks end."

OOC: If anyone wants to RP Cross when I move on him, TG me and we'll work something out.

The Foreign Office, Imperium, New Britain

Light streamed into the dark wood-paneled office through the large bay window, the light scattered through the drooping glass created intricate patterns that the Foreign Secretary could occupy herself with for hours on end – although she never truly had hours to spend looking at the walls, especially not recently. Instead, her warm brown eyes sped through a small report on her desk concerning a simmering conflict in a nation of growing interest to the United Kingdom. She leaned forward and pushed a small button that sat on a console at the corner of her desk, Yes, Marian, I need to speak with the Prime Minister.

Official Press Release



His Majesty’s Government cannot stand idly by while separatist forces attempt to tear the Imperial Commonwealth of Malkyer asunder. In this world of super-states and empires dedicated to the subjugation and elimination of humanity, the Imperial Commonwealth provides stability and security for those peoples who have decided to bite the proverbial hand that feeds them. Economic progress can only come through political stability, a stability that extremists and terrorists have thrown out in favour of an internecine insurrection that shall, in the end, benefit none of the parties involved.

As such, Parliament has approved an act resolving to stand beside the Imperial Commonwealth in its obligation to restore peace and stability to the African continent through whatever means deemed necessary and appropriate in response to the un-warranted and cowardly assaults by terrorists. Should the government of the Imperial Commonwealth need assistance, the United Kingdom stands ready to offer aid, be it of economic, political, or even military nature.

Alphonse lifted an eyebrow. "A white man? My own intelligence services suspected as much, and this gives us confirmation. I'm glad to hear of the reports from Mozambique, as well. Viceroyal forces are enjoying similar successes in other territories; though the military officers in charge keep warning me not to get my hopes up. It's like they don't have faith in their own abilities."

The Viceroy was interrupted when an aide burst into the room, looking excited and panicked at the same time. "M'lord! Urgent visitor to see you. My apologies for interrupting, and normally I wouldn't have, but...he's from the capital!"

Alphonse frowned, upset that someone would simply barge into a meeting as important as this. "Very well, Frederick. See that the KLM officers are taken to the guest quarters, and are given whatever they need. I am sorry for this interruption, gentlemen. Perhaps we can continue our conversation later?"

*****

Gordon took a long drag on his cigarette, pausing to think over Thorn's words. Seven agents is not the actual number, he's not that stupid. Probably more; we need to seriously get the RIA its own dedicated geosynch satellites for Africa asap.

"That's bloody helpful of you, chap. I suppose it'd be too hopeful of me to think that one of my agents could tag along for the op? For interrogations, and the like." Samuel Cross would probably prove more useful alive than dead, and Gordon intended to have him delivered that way. Either way, the RIA headquarters in Pretoria would be very interested tonight's news.

*****

Alphonse Perides was staring out the window of his office, watching thousands of people walking the busy streets of Pretoria. Below, blacks and whites mingled, living in relative harmony. The rebellious factions in the north sought to end that, and Perides was lost as too why. A glass in hand, he took a long sip, feeling the fire go down his throat. Whoever had disturbed his meeting with the Khailfah advisors was in for a tirade. The heavy wooden doors swung open, and the visitor walked in. It was odd that no one had announced them. Alphonse turned slowly, about to yell. Before he completed his turn, the visitor spoke, calmly and coldly. "You are a disappointment to the Crown, cousin."

The Viceroy spun quickly, coming to face the other man. Matthew Saarad, Prince Royal of the Imperial Commonwealth and Duke of Kingston, smiled thinly. "Your Majesty! I was not informed of your arrival--"

"I know, cousin. I made sure of that. You play at being king, but those who actually do things know who is in charge. You know the United Kingdom of Azazia has issued a statement of support for us?"

"Majesty, I do not understand...what do you mean, 'play at being king'?"

"Leave it. You have heard about the UK?" The Viceroy nodded, and Matthew continued. "Ask yourself. Why have they issued such a statement? You probably won't figure it out in a decent amount of time, so I'll just tell you. It means that we are losing. Not losing, to be exact, but not winning, either. And that is a problem, cousin. You've been acting like a child for the whole duration of this conflict. You consistently deny or ignore requests for funds and equipment by the RIA and Royal Army, because their dirty little special operations don't use enough shiny little tanks and jets for you. And our people are still dying, cousin."

Alphonse was flushed, and angry at these accusations. "Baseless, all of it! I have nevered ignored a legitimate request by the armed forces. Besides, the RIA wants to create an Orwellian society! Have you no concerned for civil rights?"

He noticed now for the first time that Matthew was holding a piece of paper. Handing it to the Viceroy, the Prince laughed humorlessly. "That packet is a list of all the people who have died at terrorist hands since this Chimurenga began. How many more are you willing to see killed so that traitors can enjoy their legal rights?"

For the first time in a long time, the Viceroy was without words. "You're out, Alphonse. The Viceroyship is no longer yours. You won't be stripped of titles; my brother and I owe too much to your late father to see his line end with you. But I think Guyana is in need of a Viscount to oversee sugarcane production. There is a car outside to take you to the airport. Your things will be sent after you."

Alphonse didn't move. He did, however, set the glass on the window sill before wagging his finger at the Prince. "Your Majesty, I don't think you're being entirely fair--"

The Prince crossed the room quickly, gripping the Viceroy's arm and twisting him around so that he was smashed against the window and great pressure was exerted on his shoulder, elbow, and wrist. Nervous sweat left a greasy stain on the glass overlooking Pretoria. "I'll give you a moment to think it over, but if you're still in the Viceroyalty in six hours you will be declared a non-person."

A few moments later, after Alphonse was gone, an aide looked slowly into the office to see what was going on. Matthew looked at him, and smiled widely. He looked very tired. "Frederick, find the KLM advisors. Tell them that if they have anything to say to the Viceroy, they had best hurry. Anything at all."

Flag Rank Commander Siddig El Fadil, Colonel Amcazade Hüseyin Pasha Köprülü, Ambassador Karl Landsteiner, and Deputy Defense Minister Hassan Mustafa al Mwinyi was all puzzled yet happy to find out that Viceroy has been dismissed by the Prince Matthew.

They all left their rooms in rush to catch up to the ex-Viceroy before he left, when they finally caught up to him, before he could leave, Ambassador Karl spoke his mind.

“Alphonse Perides, Ex-Viceroy…I am please to see your stripped of your powers…and you’re a idiot and pansy…you failed your government..fuckin moron!”


Then Deputy Defense Minister Hassan Mustafa al Mwinyi gives him a piece of his mind, he just punch him in the face, as hard as he could and say

“That’s for messing up the army, you jackass!”

As for the Flag Rank Commander and Colonel just nodded their heads in approve and just clapped their hands.

Just the Khailflah advisers walk away from the scene, smiling and happy that they give the ex Viceroy, a piece of their mind.

OOC: I got Malkyer Permission to do this...so yeah..

Yelling at the Viceroy hadn't bother Lieutenant Eli Williams. Hell, he often wanted to shout the young fool's head off some days himself. Assaulting a government official, however, was a different matter entirely, especially when the official was the resident Viceroy. Resting a hand on his pistol, he and the other guard on duty at the front door of the Viceroyal Office began walking toward the KLM officials. Ambassador Landsteiner was technically protected by his diplomatic immunity, but the other three were not. However, just as Williams was about to shout for them to move away from the Viceroy, the Prince called from a few meters down the hall.

"Lieutenant, hold on! The good Minister is simply taking out a little justified rage. It would be good for Viscount Perides to remember why he was struck." Seeing the confusion on the two guards' faces as they exchanged a glance, Matthew sighed. "Report to the main office. I'll explain everything to you personally in a few minutes."

He waited until the guards were gone before looking at Perides on the floor, pressing his nose to stop the bleeding. Matthew's usual cool calmness was clearly struggling against an expression of disgust. Finally, he reached down and helped his cousin stand. "There you are. Get out, the car is waiting."

Turning to the KLM officials, his face remained impassive."Well, damn it. I didn't think you'd take it that far. Well thrown, Minister," he said, breaking into a grin. "I'm taking over the office of Cape Viceroy for the duration of this insurrection. I suppose I should go explain the situation to the door guards now, but I would like to see you men in my office as soon as is convienient."

Deputy Defense Minister Hassan Mustafa al Mwinyi grin and replied “ Prince Matthew, we always at your service, we can meet with you right now, if you want.”

Thorn put put out his cigar and placed it in his pocket, no need to leave DNA for the RIA, and stood up.

"This is where I leave you Major Gordon, I have things to set in motion if we are to catch Cross by next Friday. I will have him delivered to you next weekend, have your men at the Dula Export Warehouse in Bradentown at 8:00 PM Saturday night. Do you want Cross dead or alive?"

The South African Blacks were growing hated to their new colonial masters was about to boil over.. with rebellions breaking out in the other regions in Malkyer Africa, it was their turn to take up arms against the their colonial masters, and take what is rightfully theirs.

Somewhere in the rural areas of KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa

It was around midnight in a quite village in rural KwaZulu-Natal, yet there is something of amidst in the village, a secret meeting was going on in one of the houses.

“Comrades, today we shall join our brothers in the other regions of occupy Africa and together we shall rid ourselves of the Malyker once and for all. Our brothers in Transkei, Ciskei, QwaQwa, and most of other ex Homelands will us in our righteous cause for freedom against the evil Boers and Imperialist! Tonight we began our war of liberation, today…the New African National Congress will free Africa, once and far all from Imperialist rule!” said self proclaim Comrade General Adebowale Chibueze
All the people in the room, clapped their hands and the Comrade General spoke up again
“We shall began our war against the Malkyer, by conducting hit and run attacks at first to put them on state of fear…. then we’ll began attacking their outlining garrisons and villages.. well that’s phase two,….we will currently enact phase one and began our hit and run raids. Take whatever you need from the dead Malkyer soldiers my commanders…your prizes will be their weapons and medical. Also Comrades will be attacking in groups of 50 and we must hit them hard and fast, don’t let them follow you at all cost, and avoid them if your outnumber..that is all…good luck my Comrades.” Said the Comrade General and just the meeting was over

Two days later, reports were reporting all over South Africa ex Homeland regions of rebel groups doing hit and run operations on Malkyer Patrols and conveys..just beganing the rebellion of South Africa.

Gordon took a drag from his cigarette, noting the way Thorn extinguished his cigar and put it in his pocket. Damn it, man, we aren't that bad. Not yet, at least. Aloud, he said, "Alive, of course, if that's practical. Either way, some other radical will replace him, but we may still get some information."

Gordon stood, and after Cross departed he stepped outside and walked to his car. As he was opening the door, his cell phone vibrated. Swearing, he answered it. "Major, we got trouble. Attacks are being reported across the east coast of South Africa. Mainly in KwaZulu-Natal, they seem to be concentrated in the old Bantustans."

"Is the military doing anything?"

"Yeah, they're sending troops out now to patrol the area and attempt to protect civilian convoys and local garrisons. So far it's not big, just some hit-and-runs, but..."

"But they'll step it up soon if there isn't heavy-handed retribution. Got it. Well, if the military is running the show there isn't much we can do for. Write up a report and have it in my office tomorrow."

"Roger that."

*****

Matthew nodded to Minister al Mwinyi, and led the KLM officials up to the Viceroyal office. It was probably just his imagination, but the whole building seemed so much more...efficient now that the Viceroy was gone. Bidding the men to sit, he looked out the window for a moment while aides brought in more refreshments. Matthew waited until they were gone before he started to talk.

"Hopefully this will go better now that my idiot cousin in gone. So, I guess I should thank you all for coming, and for sending your country's men to help. According to a dossier I read on the flight over, we know what color the rebel leader is, but other than that we have no firm ideas? The Viceroyal RIA chief reports that he has men infiltrating the rebel command structure...I suppose we'll have to wait and see how that goes. Any questions before I continue?"

*****

"You see the simplicity of it, Kibwe? A few small attacks, some landowners murdered, and the government panics. They increase security and begin to circumvent the law, in the name of public security. The ultimate goal, of course, is to make them paranoid, to drive them into a system of ineffective repression. Then, suddenly, they are validated our propaganda." Hermano smiled, his teeth surprisingly white against the dirt and grime one collected living in the bush for weeks.

Kibwe nodded. "What then?"

Hermano didn't say anything for a moment, instead leading Kibwe into one of the caves the black rebels used for shelter and a base. Going deep into the caves, Hermano led the other man to a weapons cache. He looked around for moment, before finally pulling a small device from a crate. He tossed it to Kibwe, who caught it. It was an electronic device, though the African couldn't say what its purpose was.

"I'm guessing from the blank stare that you don't know what that is. Heh, no matter. Once upon a time, Kibwe, I commanded armies. Did you know that? I shook the foundations of empires, and now all I have to show for it is a few thousand poorly-trained guerrillas, and a bomb."

*****

Eastern Zimbabwe
"Mudiwa! We caught two snooping around the camp!" The local commander of the Shona rebels looked up at the sentry who had come running to the central campfire. He was very excited, and very young. The older Mudiwa was amused.

"Calm down, boy. Say what now?"

"One of the patrols caught a couple of their Frontier Scouts trying to sneak past the picket!"

Mudiwa Chidi and two other men followed the sentry to another fire, were four rebels stood guard over two white men. The captured soldiers were kneeling, hands bound behind them. Their gear, including their weapons, was about ten meters away next two an ammunition crate. Mudiwa smiled. In thickly accented English, he asked, "Well, well, looks like your expensive technology didn't save you, did it?"

Grinning from his little joke, he looked at one of the men who had captured the Scouts. Something was wrong, and he noticed it quickly. He knew every man in his platoon=sized command, and this face was unfamiliar. He was about to say something to the insurgents with him when another of the four new men raised his rifle and cut down the insurgents with a burst of automatic fire. Panicked shouts came from the camp as Olukayode Themba bent down and cut the bonds from the two SAS men. Chima Ndidi sprinted to get their gear, and brought it back. The four Scouts and two SAS troopers quickly donned night-vision gear, and vanished into the bush.

The rebels started to gather their weapons when they heard the first gunshots, but a withering hail of machine-gun fire forced them to take cover. While they ducked and covered, a dark figure burst from the trees and ran through the camp, tossed a large blanket over the cookfire, extinguishing it and plunging the camp into darkness. Gunshots from close range tore through the rebels, but they were unable to get a clear shot at their attackers, who had superior tactics and equipment.

Three minutes later, six men stood among forty dead rebels. Night-vision lenses glowed green, and goggles came off as the camp was washed with light from a helicopter's floodlamps. The six men boarded the chopper, and flew north and west to Harare, to rest.

In the Viceroy Office

Deputy Defense Minister Mwinyi nodded his head and reply” No questions yet, Prince Matthew, please go on.”


Somewhere in the rural areas of KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa

The hit and run raids were going on for at least a week, just making the Malkyer uncomfortable; it was time for the next phase to happen.

Comrade General Adebowale Chibueze orders his men to perform night raids on key Malkyer garrisons and farms. Their prime goal was to ransack the supply deports for weapons and other key supplies then disappear into the night back to their bases. The attack groups were made up of 100 fighters each. In one of the groups, the Comrade General himself led one of the attacks on one of the villages. Yet losses were moderate for his force, yet he keep up the raids on the Malkyer very night to make them more uneasy in the homelands.

Thorn left the cafe and got in his Range Rover. Within minutes he was on the highway leaving town. Once he was sure he wasn't being followed, he pulled out another cell phone and dialed a new number.

"I've left the meeting."

Thorn waited for the man's reply.

"We move as planned, get the team together as we discussed. I'll be there by 4."

With that Thorn hung up the phone and took a sudden left turn and headed to the meeting site.

Ulundi, KwaZulu-Natal
Lance Corporal Misha Stepanov disabled the safety on his BR7, and chambered a round. The bouncing of the M1126 Stryker IFV wasn't enough to jostle someone into accidently firing their rifle inside, even on the rough country roads, and besides, they were going into an area defined by the government to be in a state of "apprehended insurrection." Whatever the hell that meant. Rebels probably wouldn't attack the convoy in the daylight, so far they'd stuck to night raids on farms, but that could change quickly.

The IFV came to a halt, and Stepanov's squad piled out into the street of the former capital of the KwaZulu Bantustan. The recent upsurge in insurgency in South Africa seemed to be concentrated in the former "homelands," and so the Viceroyal government ordered the military to garrison the settlements within those borders. The move went along with the current strategy of denying cities and other population centers to enemy, in order to drive them into the bush where they were hunted down by trackers and other special operations forces.

Stepanov and his men took up residence in an old police station on the edge of town, and elements of 3rd Company, 7th Battalion, took up positions elsewhere throughout the city. The Company CP was set up in the town high school (school was dismissed for the duration of the military occupation--many children saw no problem with the presence of the Royal Army), and a medical ward was established in the gymnasium. Soldiers patroled the streets, often handing out candy to children or MREs to particularly-hungry looking people. Southern Africa was exponentially better off than it had been
thirty years ago, or even ten years ago, but things were still bad for much of the population.

As the company dug into the city, the troops hunkered down and waited to see if the rebels would show up. They'd had a free hand in attacking towns and garrisons in this part of the country, but that ended here.

*****

"Very well, then." Pressing a button on the Viceroy's desk, Matthew sat in the chair as a retractable map came from the ceiling. A series of LEDs lit to show positions of Royal and allied forces in blue, known rebel-controlled areas in red, and suspected concentrations of rebels in orange. Matthew grunted, and typed something into the keyboard of Alphonse's computer. The LEDs shifted, showing signifcant changes. Blue lights now dominated Botswana and Namibia, as well as most of South Africa's western provinces. Zimbabwe and Mozambique remained largely orange, though in the northern areas of the latter were numerous blue dots where before there had been none. A messy splotch of red, blue, and orange covered South Africa's eastern coastal region.

"Lazy bastard," murmured Matthew. Louder, he said, "Seems my predecessor hasn't look at this for a while. It hadn't been updated since before those rebels crossed from Mozambique into KLM East Africa. It should be accurate now. Anyway, you can see here the approximate situation. There's been an upsurge in rebel activity centered on the old homelands. Fortunately, those were concentrated in the northeast portion of South Africa, so most of the country is still reasonably quiet. I've ordered units of the Royal Army into the area, hopefully to start denying territory to the rebels. Dedicated air assault units are going to come in soon as well, to give our forces more mobility, but at the moment they're mostly tied down bringing New Caledonia and a few other islands into the Empire."

"The key point of our strategy is to keep the rebels from concentrating enough to deny territory to the Royal Army. If that happens, it'd be a military setback which we could recover from, but the propaganda and political implications could mean the end of Malkyeri occupation of southern Africa. After all, imperial powers have a pretty long history of militarily successful campaigns that were ultimately rendered moot by political defeats."

"I'd like your input into the situation. I'm not much more experienced in large-scale military operations than the old Viceroy was, but I can at least take advice. Suggestions?"

Thorn pulled up to the shack and put his Range Rover in park. Once he was insde he surveyed his team. The DNI was primarily tasked with collecting information, but they retained the ability to conduct "wetwork" as well as anyone. For this mission Thorn had personally selected 6 of DNIs best operators. All of them were fromer Upper Weston Army and all had experience in this kind of operation. Thorn pulled a series of maps and photos from his attache case and began his briefing.

Thorn highlighted a house on the map, "This is the residence of Mr. Cross." Thorn then showed several pictures of Cross and his home. "We expect Cross to be well guarded, the guards are of no consequence to me, in fact it's best if they all die. Cross however, must be taken alive if at all possible."

After waiting for that to sink in, Thorn started again, "here's what we do."

After 30 minutes of briefing Thorn dismissed his men and got back in his Range Rover. He pulled out another phone and dialed another contact.
"Jeremiah, this is Nathan, I need to call in that favor you owe me.

Roughly eight rebel groups (800 men in total) were about to raid Ulundi, that night. Their prime objective was to take the city from the Malkyer, and just take a key city for the rebellion. The rebels were arm with AK-74s and RPGs, their were order to attack the weakest point and storm it. The Battle of Ulundi, began at midnight…

As the Malkyer soldiers keep watch…without warning, its seem the rebels came out of no where began firing on Malkyer soldiers lines. They threw Molotov cocktails at the Malkyer positions, they were probing for the best place to focus their attack on. They keep on attacking from all sides…they wouldn’t allow the Malkyer to rest and or group in one, they wanted to them to be spread thin as they keep on hitting their lines with RPGs and Molotov cocktails. The first major battle of the rebellion has began.

At the Viceroys Palace

Ambassador Karl Landsteiner listen closely what Prince had to say and was the first to speak up

“First let me say…its good to hear that you nation bough under its rule the Islands of New Caledonia and ex French Polynesia…Now I must ask this question, how loyal are the Afrikaners….what are the odds of them joining the rebellions that’s a question that needs to answer…if they decide to rebel…we’ll in deep trouble…” said the Ambassador

Then Flag Rank Commander Siddig El Fadil spoke up

“Yes…a Boer rebellions will make things more messy anyways…your plan so far is good. but you must have more air support is key, Prince Matthew…with air support, you can make them fear you , then to you fearing them…with constant air strike and patrols..they will be constantly on the move and never able to rest..just making them tired and weak. Ripe for the taking.”

“ I couldn’t say it better…air power is key in terms of crushing these blasted rebellions.” Said Colonel Amcazade Hüseyin Pasha Köprülü

"Fall back, fall back to the station! Simmons, flash a message to CP!" Stepanov was shouting, and could still barely hear himself over the chatter of automatic weapons. It was dark, almost midnight, but the inky darkness was lit by rifle fire. Dark shapes flitted in between buildings and across the streets. Stepanov moved back, methodically tapping off two shots at each shape. One of his squadmates covered him from a window with the M289 SAW (Squad Automatic Weapon), letting a stream of lead fly toward muzzle flashes. As Stepanov bumped against the building, he quickly turned and ducked inside. He crouched down by the door and poked his rifle out, continuing to fire.

Pfc. Jake Simmons was on the radio to the Company CP. "This is Squad 3-3, under heavy fire from an unknown number of hostiles. Repeat, we are under heavy fire, over."

"Roger that, 3-3, we're getting reports from all over the city. Hold your current position if practical, we'll have more for you later, over."

"Understood. Squad 3-3 out."

"Shit," Stepanov muttered. He ejected the empty magazine from his rifle, replaced, and began shooting again. His nightsight goggles automatically adjusted to keep the muzzle flash from blinding him, and gave him an advantage over his enemies. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough at the moment to make of for the enemies' advantages of surprise and numbers.

*****

A pair of Strykers, led by a tank, rolled down one of the wider streets of Ulundi. Across the city, the Royal Army was falling back into the city to prepared defensive positions and fortified redoubts. A concentrated attack by the rebels was not in itself a surprise, for that had always been expected. The insurgents had achieved tactical surprise, however, because the Royal Army had not anticipated an attack so soon after there arrival. Many fallback positions were only half-finished.

As the small convoy neared the position of a trapped squad, the tank paused in the street, its coaxial machine gun providing covering fire while the squad rushed out of an abandoned police station. One of the men was hit in the leg by a stray round, but he was pulled up and into a Stryker by one of his comrades. At the same time, a rebel poked his head out from behind a corner, and fired an RPG at point-blank range at the tank. Cheering to see the armored vehicle engulfed in a blast of fire and smoke, he never saw the flame leap from the tank's 120mm cannon and destroy the building he hid behind, blowing a large chunk out of the next one as well. Inside, the tank crew chuckled at the weak black smokestain left on the vehicle's Chobham armor.

Not bothering to turn around, the light convoy floored it, and drove in reverse back down the straight road to the fallback redoubt.

*****

Echo Company Command Post, Desmond Tutu High School, Ulundi
Captain John Wilkinson frowned over a large map of Ulundi. Orderlies and junior officers rushed through the CP, delivering orders and messages and bringing in coffee.

"Captain, Battalion requests a report. CP is on the line." The lieutenant in charge of communications handed him a radio mike.

"Thanks, Henry. Major, We are under attack by a hostile force of unknown size, estimated battalion strength. We're taking casualties, and request immediate reinforcements."

"Roger that, Captain. We'll inform Regiment at Vryheid, and get some troops your way as soon as possible. Aviation Battalion is going through final checks, ETA 10 minutes. Battalion out." Wilkinson set down the mike, and looked over the map where the company's static defenses were laid out. Outnumbered roughly four-to-one, he figured that his troops could hold if they got air support. He only had a few tanks, so he'd use them as stop-gap artillery until more armor and support could be brought down from Regimental Headquarters. Early morning, 300 hours or thereabouts. Damn.

*****

Overhead, several attack helicopters from 117th Regiment flew in over the landscape, dark shapes against a dark sky. To the southeast, orange and yellow light clearly denoted the town of Ulundi, where a major firefight was taking place. As the helicopters came close, Royal Army troops along the perimeter fired up flares, showing the line held by Royal troops. The helicopters came in fast, raining rockets and lead on everything outside that perimeter. Vulcan cannons and Hellfire missiles would probably cause collateral damage and civilian casualties, but the Imperial Commonwealth was not going to let its troops be pushed out of a city by ragtag militia mere hours after they'd occupied it.

*****

"I agree, air support is key. As I said, we're working on getting dedicated air assault units in-theater...until then our individual regiments will rely most on their Aviation Battalions to provide air support. The RAF is also working with special forces to coordinate airstrikes on rebel camps in rural areas." The Prince paused, clearing his throat.

"The Afrikaners, they're an interesting group. There's about three and a half million in South Africa, with maybe another two hundred thousand spread through Namibia and Rhodesia. You ask about their loyalty? Judging from pre-Empire political leanings, I'd say a little less than a third will support the Empire, out of a genuine hope to see us succeed and see racial equality and all that good stuff. This is my cynical side coming out, but I think another third can be counted on to support us just so they get a chance to be top dogs again."

"So the last third is the question. Given the chance, they'd support a creation of their own state, since a return to apartheid and minority rule is no longer a realistic goal. Now, out of that million or so, probably less than ten thousand would actually fight, and only guerrilla operations at that. But that would tie down divisions that could be used fighting other areas of insurgency."

"Once again, it comes back to not allowing the rebels to gain a political victory. As long as the Imperial Commonwealth is winning, and more importantly, looks like it's winning, the rebellion will steadily lose support, and any rebellious Afrikaner elements won't have the guts to stand up to us. Especially since I've issued standing orders to our commanders civilian casualties are unavoidable when defending against insurgent attacks. Alexei will hate me for it, but we can't afford this 'no innocent deaths' crap."

Three hours later, Thorn left Jeremiah's shop with his "package". Jeremiah Endawe was one of South Africa's leading arms dealers and happened to owe Thorn a favor. Now Thorn had the weapons he needed and he Jeremiah no longer owed him a favor.

The box in his trunk held 5 AK-47s, a scoped M14 rifle, 12 hand grenades, 6 .45 pistols, and 6 sets of Interceptor body armor.

Thorn made a quick stop at his safehouse and picked up his own gear.

Soon they would move.

The rebel forces were taking heavy losses (200 rebels killed in action) from the Malkyer counter attack in Ulundi, the rebel commanders decide it was best to cut their losses and retreat and fight another day. As the rebels began a orderly retreat, and number of rebels stay behind to give cover fight for their comrades.

The raid on Ulundi was a bloody defeat for the rebels. Yet the Rebels were not ones to give up..they will attack again…another day. For now they return to their hit and run tactics.. The Comrade General was not pleased with their defeat at Ulundi. He decide to make the Malkyer bleed dearly for this… He issue orders to take no prisoners, behead the captured Malkyer soldiers, and send their body parts home.

At the Viceroy Palace

“Well, what can you do…civilians will get way in the way…and get killed that’s the nature of war…. there is always civilian casualties…but I say this Prince…keep a very close eye on those bloody Boers…one can never truly trust ones subjects…mainly those who have a history of rebelling..” said Ambassador Karl Landsteiner

“And always keep your friends close, and your enemies closers.” remarked Deputy Defense Minister Hassan Mustafa al Mwinyi

Dawn broke to show Royal Army troopers moving through the scarred outskirts of Ulundi. The fringes of the city had been subjected to fire damage from rebel Molotov cocktails and other improvised explosives. Picking through the burnt-out neighborhoods and charred city blocks, soldiers under the direction of senior corpsmen collected the bodies of friend and foe, and searched for wounded fighters. Malkyeri who had been wounded in action were sent to the medical ward at the town high school. Enemies who suffered only superficial wounds were cleaned up by corpsmen and then distributed to waiting trucks, which would deliver them to prison camps along the coast. Those rebels who were seriously wounded were generally shot out of hand. The Royal Government would not waste the money of loyal taxpayers by wasting resources on insurgents.

Echo Company had taken heavy losses, and was more than decimated. Almost twenty percent of the company had been killed, and over sixty percent of the survivors had been wounded. 3 Platoon was pulling headquarters duty at Battalion, a few kilometers away at Melmoth. There weren't enough survivors for much else. Another platoon had been rotated in their place, and the city's garrison had been reinforced with an additional rifle platoon.

Around the city, defenses and redoubts were repaired, as civilian vehicles under military protection worked to clear the rubble and fix the worst of the damage to the city. The Royal Army had secured a victory here, but those in command knew that reprisals would follow, aimed at those in rural areas and remote garrisons. The rebels had failed in set battle, and so would revert to pyscological warfare.