NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: As for now, this is closed to everyone but Undershi and The Blubs. The Blubs, if you want to have a few (hundred?) Blubs in the League Proper defending, that'd be fine.

Oh, and Undershi, I hope you don't mind me RPing a few minor things that happen at the start of the invasion - you can call exactly how it happened, but it makes for a nice start this way.

The League Proper, Vandelmis, Leagueheim.

It was immense, the captain knew, as the ship slowly moved out to sea, moving under its own power, slowly, but surely, reaching the edge from which Captain James Brown could see Leagueheim.

The city was immense, he reminded himself. Four hundred million people. The city itself was clean, prosperous, and.. massive. That was what made his job so hard. He was one of the few who still believed in the outside world - believed that the League could be touched by them. It had been centuries of prosperity and trade, each expansion marked by diplomacy and peace, and it had been centuries of military disbandment.

The League possessed anti-warhead facilities. You would be a fool not to, after all. However, unbeknowest to many, they were not in possession of any nuclear weapons. Tactical, strategical, or otherwise. They had been, once. But outcry from the people had seen them buried in what was named a 'peace vault', far beneath the earth. Five thousand inactive missiles, wasting away.

It annoyed him to think of it. After all, he was captain of the League Military Ship Imperious. One of the six ships-of-the-line, the destroyers, of the League. Peace.. it made for good money. He made almost three-quarters of a million dollars a year, an immense salary for most. And the Imperious was small, but, in its own way, a powerful destroyer.

He sighed, and thought of the comminique that had brought him out here.

Captain Brown. The satellites have picked up.. strange movement off our northwestern coast. We're unsure what it is, as it seems to be unusual aerial and naval activity from the area. I believe the country is named.. Undershi. I want you to take the Imperious, and investigate. We've prepared seventy-five fighters for takeoff.. I'm worried. The First Councillor-elect won't even listen to me. I want you to arm your guns, and prepare for.. I don't know. Trouble.

- Admiral Baker

James rubbed his hands together. He'd had a better idea. A ship like the Imperious was fairly hard to miss, and so he'd simply intimidate the enemy into stopping. Such a strategy had worked for the League for a long time - but the tiger's teeth had long fallen out.


Something was.. strange, though. It had to be admitted. James looked out his window, and saw the flyers in their wings of silver, gliding throughout the sky. He spat onto the floor. Wings for flying were expensive, gaudy, and inefficient. Another luxury which would've been better spent on something like.. fuel for the Imperious.

He reached for his intercom mic, and spoke into it, grasping the small device firmly. "Crew, this is Captain James Brown. I want our AA guns prepped and ready to fire, as well as our larger cannons."

A fairly standard command, as well. Every now and then.. guns needed to be tested. He hadn't ordered them onto red alert, and he saw no need...

Some time later..

James stood on his deck, marvelling at the night sky. Marvelling, of course, was the correct word when dealing with the tropical paradise, and a beautiful, clear, night sky. If the Imperious had a pool, he would've been in it. It had been quite the time since he'd been told to keep a lookout.. and, really, the point was minimal. The League was massive. Sending one ship to look for an enemy was like sending an ant to look for a needle in a thousand haystacks.

He looked up at the sky again, and saw flyers.. no.. not flyers. They didn't have the shimmering, silvery wings of the flyers. A sound. A sound of aeroplanes. That was strange. A plane in the sky? If you wanted to go somewhere, there was very little reason to do so. And.. there wasn't just one plane. There were.. hundreds of them.

Hundreds and hundreds and hundreds... James looked up in horror, as the world turned to fire...

Leagueheim Northern Military Base

Admiral Baker wrung his hands in frustration. The Captain of the LMS Imperious hadn't radioed in. He'd sent out four destroyers, and three had reported back. Those three had reported back as fine... He'd sent out an airborne patrol in the morning. For now.. he had to catch some sleep. After all.. what could've happened? Chances were, it was just a frequency error.

He lay back in his chair, and wormed his way into the padded leather. Complacency was bliss. But it was also the way your enemy took his dagger to your heart...

Flight Leader Ulrich Smithson sent his Thunderer into a dive, straight for the enemy destroyer bellow. He smilled as his squadron joined him, all 12 of those beautiful fighter-bombers, their missile racks loaded with anti-shipping ordinance.
Hundreds of similar missions were underway at this same time, all across the League - Thunderers and their heavy brothers, the Golden Eagle heavy bombers, escorted by that most nimble of fighters, their quick cousin the Lightning.
The League was doomed - that much was obvious to anyone who took the time to examine the imbalance of forces. There was, quite simply, no way in heck that their little tiny fleet and little tiny airforce could stop the Undershi assault.
As the dive reached the point of no return, he gave an order:
"Now."
In seconds, the air was filled with shells from the attacking aircraft's 20mm assault cannons, as well as dozens of heavy anti-shipping missiles. Tracers lept up from the hostile ship bellow, some of them scoring, one lucky burst sending a Thunderer down in flames to crash into the clear blue water bellow... but even a school child who had never before seen a gun fired would have agreed without question - the weight of fire was on the side of the Undershis.
His anti-shipping missiles expended, Ulrich pulled out of the dive, rolling his Thunderer as he did so. His squadron had finished its mission against its designated target, now it was time to return to base. Or... as the surviving members of his squadron pulled up from their attack, he sent out a radio message:
"Gentlemen, I've still got fuel and ammunition for my assault cannons. I say we make a detour, and teach these norms a lesson." the replies were instant, all in the affirmative. He smilled at that - Thunderer pilots, especially those chosen for the high cassualty rate units such as their own, were chosen based on agressiveness. These men didn't disappoint... they would see how much damage they could do before returning to the carrier to reload.
Targets invariably presented themselves as they made their long way back to the carrier... after all, they were in a good mood - a fishing trawler or some random house would do for their entertainment.
As they practiced strafing, the rigid formality of the Undershi military fell away - Ulrich actually smilled when he heard a whooping pilot call out to him:
"Excelent work sir! Watch those Normans run!" he normally would have disciplined the man - but these were special circumstances, so he merely laughed in reply, and continued strafing the town they'd happened to pass over.

Grand Admiral Andrew Mikialov examined the results of the hundreds of air raids he'd ordered, and couldn't help but smile. They had been... effective, that was the word he would use. The Undershi airforce had only lost one Lightning and seven Thunderers so far during this invasion, and that luck looked set to continue.
He flipped over to a new page of the reports he had been reading, and frowned - it seemed some squadron or other had decided to practice strafing on their way back to the carrier they were based out of. He actually considered disciplining the Flight Leader... for about ten seconds. Boys would be boys, and it wasn't as if he'd attacked an oil refinery or anything - merely some random small town. What were a few norms one way or the other?

A mid-sized ship had been sitting in a harbor along the attacked coastline. It was simply refueling. No doubt, the dock workers had looked aghast at the crew of this ship, but it was being refueled anyway. The Blubs had stayed on the ship so as not to frighten or disturb the citizens of this nation.

It almost proved deadly, though. The Blubs didn't see it coming until too late when the invader jets swept down out of the sky to strafe the harbor and town. Cannon rounds tore through their ship, severing the refueling hose and igniting it. Like a flamethrower, liquid fuel began spraying the side of the Blub's ship.

Alarms went off, and they began to evacuate. Hundreds of Blubs pouring down the dock towards town, while behind them their ship went up in flames.

A Lightning swooped through the air, rolling like mad as anti-aircraft fire followed it.
Ulrich cursed as the nimble fighter was caught between the streams of tracers and then cursed again as an AA missile struck the rear of the fighter, causing it to catch fire and the entire plane to go into a death spyral towards the Southern Continent bellow. They were striking at League bases around Southern City this time, with escorts in case any surviving League fighters happened to be in the area. They hadn't seen any enemy fighters so far - merely some light anti-aircraft fire that had none the less managed to down an Undershi fighter. Ulrich cursed at that, and angled his Thunderer for a pass against the AA empacement that had just got so damned lucky. It's luck was about to change - he strafed it with his 20mm assault cannon, screaming as he did so, feeling some sort of primal warrior sensation as he did so.
As he pulled up, he heard the voices of his men on the radio - they were shouting and whooping as they strafed and bombed the base they'd been sent to target. He had to catch up with them - diverting to punish that AA site had delayed his completion of his mission.
While he flew towards the League base, he couldn't help but wonder why the Undershis were using the low altitude tactics they had been employing. They ahd Golden Eagle heavy bombers that could hit from out of range of enemy ground fire - why not use those? There had to be a reason...

Somewhere Over the Southern Continent

The 111th IIS airborn division had been selected as one of those "lucky" units that would hit the League from above to destabalize it before the main invasion occured. Their mission was simple - hit a small town near the main city on that continent, take the place, then dig in and fight until they could be relieved. If only it were as simple as it sounded.
IIS Major Ernest Jozanzohn cursed as something that sounded suspiciously like AA fire occured near to the converted Golden Eagle heavy bomber his command platoon was about to jump out of. They had an escort of Lightnings, and the entire area they were passing over had supposedly been hit by Thunderers just hours ago - the briefing officer had smuggly assured them that nothing larger than a gnat would be alive down on the ground. Never trust briefing officers. He sighed - they would drop soon enough, and when they did... well, then he was sure they would find themselves facing tough resistance. They were attacking a large country, and even if its military was ridiculously small, there would still be a lot of civilians who might turn into guerillas... there was always something to worry about. The drop was a while off, though, so he went back to checking his rifle for the drop. He knew it was in perfect condition... but he still checked it compulsively. It didn't pay to be incautious...

Because
Undershi
Must
Prevail

OOC: HT, are you there anymore? Is this RP dead/dieing?

OOC: Named map of the continent undergoing the main invasion (http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a192/CacoRPG/Invasionmap.jpg).

"...how could this happen? If the military bases have fallen under attack... that means we're soon going to be under attack."

"Yes, First Councillor."

The First Councillor, and a general sat in a small conference room, two hundred metres below the earth.

"Nine thousand, two hundred troops left. Eight hundred dead, by recent reports. General Johzan, I want those men pulled out of the military bases. Leagueheim will fall. It's.. we're being bombed. We don't have the firepower to retain the city. If we're being bombed, it's because we're about to be invaded. And the Undershi Empire.. they're too close for comfort."

"What do you want me to do, First Councillor?". General Johzan was a fine commander - but one unused to defense. And not willing to retreat his troops for seemingly no reason.

"Leave enough men to keep the AA guns and the anti-sea artillery operative. I want the entire division pulled back inland, to Golnos. There's a small unit of reservists there. Eight hundred, I believe? I'm going to activate them to combat status - they are now members of the full-time military. Eimon, and Tetra, as well. I want every reservist from those cities pulled up, and prepared to fight. We lack the naval superiority to fight the enemy in the larger, multi-million coastal cities. We don't have the force."

The general sat there, somewhat stunned by the First Councillor's monologue. Then he remembered. The First Councillor had his position via compromise - the two peaceniks, as he termed them, had been divided nearly equally in the vote, neither of them with enough votes to form a government. Thus, Jacob, the new First Councillor, had been chosen - mainly because he didn't particularly help either group.

Hell, without Jacob Miller, they wouldn't even have those AA guns that were being bombed right now. He smiled, and hoped that the First was right. If it was merely a false alarm.. there'd be hell to pay. He walked off, and opened up a video link to both of the military bases at once, hitting the 'Priority Alpha' key.

"This is General Gregory Johzan. Priority Alpha message. All non-artillery and non-AA crew are to retreat, repeat, retreat, to Golnos. Take any vehicles capable of exceeding 80 kilometres per hour, and evacuate every tank possible."

He typed in another command "Golnos; Eimnon; Tetra; Oln. MSG: Priority sub-Beta.". Some towns didn't have vid-links, and so he had to rely on radio transmissions, and, in some cases, text messages. But this message was simple enough. "Priority sub-Beta. Induction into regular army. All reservists are now members of the League Army. Acquire weaponry. Golnos reservists, begin preparations for housing eight thousand four hundred soldiers. General Johzan out."

He sighed. The underground base was actually a converted underground hot-springs resort - they'd taken it over when the First Councillor had taken his position. He just hoped that they'd be able to hold out. He walked back into the tiny conference room, and spoke. "Jacob. We're going to need to leave. If we're being invaded, as you suspect... this isn't safe."

Jacob snorted. "General Johzan. We're two hundred metres underground. We're safe from anything barring a nuke. And this place is better-hidden than anywhere else in the League. Chances are, it'd take any invader months, perhaps even years, just to find this place, and we can send messages without detection, to boot. I've built this place so it's virtually invisible. If there's a safer place in the League, I've yet to find it....".

He gestured at a wall. "Gregory, we have eight years of supplies down here, our own generator.. weaponry.. this is the perfect location to command a war from. And, if it turns out not to be an invasion.. hiding from the mobs is not a bad thing to be able to do, eh?"

Leagueheim Military Base; North and South

"Moooove OOOUT!", a sergeant yelled. Men were climbing into APCs, into tanks, into jeeps.. even into the new hovercraft, although they were built for water-travel. Thousands of men from each base. Only those who operated the AA guns, and the anti-sea artillery were to be left behind.. each base was rigged with explosives, although the soldiers didn't know that.

If the enemy took them, well.. at least they'd be able to dismay them momentarily. As men poured out of the base, frightened soldiers stood inside, manning their guns, constantly looking at the radar feed, tracking enemy craft as well they could. The defensive missiles for taking out high-flying aircraft were all in Southern.. and that was because Southern was seen as a viable target for aircraft.

As it was, the bases would be evacuated. Heading inland under cover of the forest would let them reach the inner, smaller cities fairly safely. If the coastline had to be abandoned to gain safety, it appeared that General Johzan was willing to sacrifice that. But, considering the size of the isle.. it would be a several-day trip.

Private Jones, the de-facto leader of his squadron, urged his tank southwards. The tanks the League used were horrendously expensive - large, deadly, and powerful. Keeping them alive would be the key to resistance, he had been told. He didn't really know who was attacking the League, and he didn't feel good about fleeing, but it was flee or die. And he liked living...

Undershi Airstrikes

Flight Leader Ulrich Smithson screamed an exhulting cry into the comm feed as his 20mm nose gun tore up a dirt road full of refugees. A decision had been made, at nearly the highest level, to divert aerial assets from attacks against League military assets so that they could conduct two different missions - for the lighter craft like his Thunderers... strafing and bombing refugee collumns, to spread fear and terror. For the heavier craft, the Golden Eagle bombers, so that they could drop propaganda on enemy urban areas.
He'd seen some of the propaganda - mostly it was almost humorously badly designed, at least as far as he was concerned.
Some leaflets showed mao-ist guerillas from Paxton impaled upon stakes, robbed of their dignity as they died horrible... others showed happy, smilling, norms living under the leadership of their True Undershi overlords, with a caption "Your Freedom is Nothing Compared to Your Happiness - Surrender Now". The only thought he had on the subject as he rolled his Thunderer and came in for another attack run was which of the two would be the most effective at provoking resistance...
As he came in for another pass, he noticed a woman running away from the trail, carrying a baby. He smilled - on her own she was a good target... he veered to fire at her, and sent a long burst of 20mm fire her way, then pulled up and prepared for another attack run against the remaining refugees...

Paratroopers

IIS Major Ernest Jozanzohn grinned savagely as he lept from the belly of the converted Golden Eagle into the void. He loved the rush he got from drops - that was why been chosen for the Airborn, good genes for the airborn, the Sergeant Instructor had said back when he'd been in boarding bootcamp... he waited until the last moment to yank the release cord, and smilled as the parachute caught him and he began to float slowly down to earth, feeling at peace in spite of the Thunderers roaring past, strafing the ground with their 20mills and missiles...
They were hitting a small town near the largest city of the Southern Continent, basically dropping into the suburbs... he looked down bellow - houses with green patches of yard. THe one he looked set to land on had been hit by a stray missile, and now lacked most of its second floor. He pulled one of the steering lines on his parachute, and angled himself in towards the lawn... he hit the ground, and his legs buckled under the sudden weight, but then he was up, and throwing himself flat, and waiting to establish contact with his team... once he had, then they would secure the immediate area and prepare to hold out against the inevitable counterattack he knew the League would launch once it knew Southern City was encircled by land as well as by sea, through the dropping of two IIS para-trooper divisions and three regular army airborn units... they had only to hold for eighteen hours, until the armour landed and broke through to their position...

She screamed. It was only an outer city, but it had been destroyed some days earlier. A fairly large isle, but nowhere to flee. And now the enemy were attacking. They had only ever been a fishing town, albeit a large one, and the Undershi were attacking.

A message had been sent - but the League Proper was busy fending off the enemy at the doorstops. As bullets smashed past her, she continued running, trying to escape the enemy. No use. A plane was faster than a man - and she was a woman, carrying a baby. Bullets smashed through her backbone, and she collapsed to the ground... it was the first they knew of their danger, and, for most, the last...

Southern City

What most people didn't realise about Southern, is that the majority of it was a barren wasteland. Of course, this was a barren wasteland virtually filled to the brim with useful ores, uranium, oil, coal.. the list went on and on. If you needed some sort of fossil fuel, or metal, you went to Southern. It remained mainly unmined, simply because the League had never needed many of those resources - despite the prevalence of such resources, solar power, wind power, and the like provided massive amounts of power to the League.

Nuclear reactors.. the list went on. But the power provided to the League was supplied mainly by non-fossil fuels. The reason for this was simple - most of Southern had been uninhabited when the League had developed such techniques.

But Southern City, as it had been known, was once a hundred city. The city itself dwarfed many nations - over five hundred million people in the one city. The food requirements alone were insane. Massive superfreighters came in and out, presumably unhindered because they only contained food - and the city would starve quickly, if they ran out. Southern City was comprised of thousands of suburbs, and was almost a nation in its own right - factories, power plants, miners.. it was the hub of activity for the League.

If Leagueheim was the capital, and the centre of cultural and economic life, Southern was the lifeblood of the League. There were two military bases here, and both had been evacuated when the enemy had come - they'd left the city for dead. But, then again, Southern had vindicated the military time and time again, and each successive Councillor had removed the funding, the power, and the ability of the military ruthlessly. The military had simply upped and left - they were already gone.

And that, in itself, was high treason. The troops weren't cowards - in fact, they were among the bravest and best of the League. But they were tired - tired of the contempt, the discrimination, and the sheer idiocy they saw from the city. And so.. Southern was undefended. But you could not simply take a city of five hundred million without trouble.

Foremost among problems was the fact that League cars were tiny - big enough to seat two people, or perhaps three, and they were generally electrically powered. The streets, as well, were tiny. Trying to fit troops in APCs or jeeps through the streets simply wouldn't work. They'd have to demolish houses with impunity to make paths - only the largest of roads would permit transit for the Undershis.

But it was a prize worth the taking. Industrial capacity, enough to dwarf many, resided within Southern. Computer chips, cars, aeroplanes, ships.. the city itself produced over 90% of the League's transport. An undamaged Southern City would see the Undershi empire with enough industrial capacity to give every man in the invasion his own tank. But Southern was massive. It could not be stated enough. Taking Southern was not a matter of simply invading a city - it was a matter of taking a small, urbanised country.

And that was where the problem lay. Southern, unlike the rest of the League, was a harsh continent. And many of those who lived in the city were miners, lumberjacks, and reservists. In such an environment, where the city extended both far above and below the ground.. it was virtually the perfect place for guerilla warfare. And, although no citizens had fermented anything within their minds but fear as of yet.. it would come.

But, as it stood, the situation for Southern looked grim. The orders given by General Johzan had seen the majority of the military evacuated - leaving for the northern ports. The First Councillor wanted the League Proper protected, and the troops in Southern were only too glad to leave...

Above the Southern City Harbour

Flight Leader Ulrich Smithson watched from his circling Thunderer as Undershi bombs obliterated the remaining League shore defenses. They had to be careful - that was why they were using Thunderers, not massive Golden Eagle heavy bombers - and it wasn't all going their way - here and there League AA guns got lucky before they died, and a Thunderer or Lightning fell from the sky in flames. Whenever he saw one fall, or flew over a crash site, he felt like turning his 20mill or his missiles on the city, smashing and destroying until nothing remained... but he couldn't - he had his orders, and he would follow them. He was a True Undershi, after all... he sighed as he watched the smoke rise from crashed Undershi planes and bomb impact sites, seeming to turn the sky dark... it was a bad day, he realized - here the League was still fighting, oddly enough - the Airborn divisions had cut off the soldiers left behind to man the AA guns and the shore defense guns, and so, oddly enough, here, where they had supposedly abandoned the city to its fate, they fought harder than they had at any other site so far.
He heard the request over his radio then - a call for action:
"Hey! Flight Leader, sir, that AA emplacement down there, sir - it's taken out four Undershi flyers so far! Let's go get it before it becomes an Ace!" he made a reply, of course he would help, and he the other pilot flew in towards the well positioned AA site, with its oh-so-lucky crew... they opened fire with their 20mills at nearly maximum range, and had almost no effect... then, just as they were about to launch their missiles, an AA rocket zoomed up from their target, and hit Ulrich's Thunderer right at its most vulnerable spot...
The last thought he had as his plane caught fire and fell from the sky was a thought filled with simple suprise: I'll be damned - that AA gun's an Ace... then he hit the ejection seat, and the force blacked him out...

Paratroopers

IIS Major Ernest Jozanzohn sat on a pile of rubble, his helmet removed, shaking his head at the thought that all five divisions of Airborn hadn't encountered a single enemy soldier. Sure, one or two civilians had tried to throw rocks or other things like that... they'd put a stop to that quickly enough... he glanced up from his ration bar, towards the impaled corpse of one of those civilians - they'd take a fence post, and sharpened it with their entrenching tools... then impaled the poor fool, and hung a placard around his neck, on it written: Rebel.
He hoped that act had had some positive effect, but he doubted it - the other impaled corpses spoke of how little it'd done to dissuade others from resisting. He rememebred the first few hours, and "passive resistance"... that thought made him laugh bitterly - what was passive resistance but a suicide attack without the oppertunity to kill your enemy? The whole occupation so far reminded him more of the time he had spent in Saint Rynald, just after the occupation, than he would have liked.
There the fanatics had been Christians, Christians who willingly blew themselves up to hurt the Undershis... he had thought that no mindset could be more alien than theirs had been, but he had been wrong - these people made no sense at all. If they'd been appropriatly cautious, they might have conquered the Empire themselves... but they hadn't, and so now Undershi boot-heels ground down their League... he sighed, and took a bite from his ration bar, wasing it down with water from his canteen - these people made no sense, no sense at all...

Southern City Harbour

The Undershi destroyer Berlin was the first into the harbour, braving the last few shore defense guns, firing its two 20mm AA auto-cannons wildly, while its prow mounted 105mm cannon thundered, sending shells in to strike at the defiant defenders...
Behind it came the Landing Craft of the 1st Urban Rangers Division, followed by the craft carrying the 192nd and 193rd Regular Army divisions... enough force to secure the harbor, and spear-head the armoured divisions push to link up with the Airborn and secure the city.
The destroyers Stalingrad and Tours followed behind, their own 20mills and 105mm cannons firing in support of the landing, their missile launchers sending occassional deadly accurate missiles in to strike at pockets of resistance... soon the landing would occur.
Captain William DeValles of the 1st Urban Rangers stood near the front of the Landing Craft, his Gauss rifle cradled in his arms like a child might have held a doll or a stuffed bear... soon they would be unloading, and then, he expected, he'd be facing the sort of fierce, house-to-house, resistance the Urban Rangers specialized in. It looked like they had air supperiority - with it, their victory was more or less ensured.
As he watched the Thunderers and Lightnings strafing, two of them broke off to make an Attack Run against an AA emplacement. Their 20mills chattered, and they sent their missiles off... but then a single answering rocket flashed up into the air, and tore into one of the Thunderers. As its pilot ejected from the flamming wreak, William shook himself - that just went to show you could die just as easily winning as lossing... then his Landing Craft had hit the shore, and he had no more time to think of anything but the fight ahead.
As he leapt onto the docks, as his men followed him, screaming assorted battle cries - either the "Victory!" shout of the Undershi Army, the "Glory!" cry associated with the Regular Army in particular, a contraction of one of the mottos of the True Undershis, "Glory to The Race", or, more rarely, some sort of personal battle chant - a distressingly large number of the men in his unit were screaming a particular non-standard battle cry that they had picked up while fighting in Saint Rynald, where it had been the chant of the Zealot rebels - "Salvation!" that battle cry distressed him - like almost all True Undershis he was a convinced atheist, and the thought that religion could be infiltrating his unit... that worried him.
Oh well, he thought, as he fired a quick burst from the hip while running towards the ruined warehouses that marked the first real cover available to him, that was a job for the Colonel...

Band of Blubs, Somewhere in the League

Captain Summers of Easy Company marched at the head of the column. A double ranked line of Blubs moved through the countryside, their M1 Garands and carbines slung over their shoulders, US WWII helmets covered in paratrooper nets to help blend in.

These were the Blubs from the harbor, and had been marching for days, moving south while occasionally sending out runners to check the beach for enemy landing sites.

Summers paused as the company came to an intersection. He glanced at a street sign, then checked his map. Behind him, Lieutenant Sword lifted a tentacle, - Easy Company disappeared into the hedges and tall grass.

After a moment, Captain Summers gestured. First Platoon ran across the road, followed by Third.. then covered Second Platoon's crossing.

Soon enough, a Blub returned, moving low and saluted Captain Summers. "Sir, we saw some enemy parachutes up ahead yesterday so I went to take a look. Seems we've got some enemy paras."

******

North of Undershi Paras

The Blubs crept through the brush and hedges. Captain Summers spoke to his lieutenants, "First Platoon, set up a thirty-cal position to anchor the left flank. I want Second in the center, machine guns stationed for maximum effect and a base of firepower. Third Platoon, that's you Sword, once the fighting begins.. I want you to flank up the right side. Be on the lookout for airbourne heavy weapons."

The three platoons crept into position. Out on the left, multiple .30 cals were setting up, feeding belt ammo from bins. The Blubs took aim down towards the Undershi paratroopers.

On a hidden signal... the guns opened up. A dozen sets of tracers rained down towards the Undershi troopers. M1s, BARs, Tompsons and greaseguns firing away in a devestating barrage.

On the right (To Undershi, it's left) flank.. Third Platoon used the base of fire - which should keep the enemy's heads down - to begin moving up the side, using a deep ditch and hedge row as cover, while tossing grenades.

Undershi 111th IIS Airborn Sector of the "Ring of Iron" around Southern City

IIS Major Ernest Jozanzohn gazed towards the city to the south of his position, watching as the fighting came closer and closer, as the Armoured divisions pushed through to relieve the isolated Airborn units that had been forward dropped to cut off the escape routes from the city...
He could only roughly estimate the ammount of time it would take for those units to break through, but he was almost sure it would be in under the eighteen hours they had been told to expect. He nodded to himself, and, feeling satisfied at the rate of progress he had observed, lowered his binoculars and began to walk towards the northern edge of his units positions, where they had converted two houses near to each other into strong-points, with their 20mill assault cannons deployed on the second floors, and two squads of soldiers in each...
In front of the buildings, on their northern lawn, a good dozen Airborn troopers lay at rest, weapons close to hand. He walked over towards them, wanting to ask them about the evening watch rotation... but then that thought stopped concerning him, as machineguns opened up from the bushes across the road...
The dozen men in the yard were cut down almost instantly by massively concentrated fire. The four 20mills opened up, sending a hail of fire-power towards the other side of the road... the soldiers Gauss rifles joined in, sending back a reputable weight of fire.
He cursed - they'd been caught off guard, but they'd hold, they'd hold for sure... then the left flank started to take fire, and grenades started flying in from a ditch along the road...
Ernest cursed, and ran towards the left of the two houses, kicking in its door even though he knew it was unlocked and running over to a first floor window facing out towards the ditch - he saw another soldier there, this one down, an unlucky piece of schrapnel stuck in the rubber neck-seal of his helmet. Watery blood bubbled out from the broken seal around the piece of metal from some grenade or other...
He went straight to the window, and tossed his two smoke grenades into the ditch in rapid succession, before adding an incindiary grenade to the mix. That done, he ducked beneath the window's edge, and tried to get the air support radio channel. Things suddenly didn't look so good... a few Thunderers strafing and bombing would soon change that, though...

Another Perspective

IIS Paratrooper Karl Mikialov screamed in angry fear as the 20mill gunner went down with a rifle bullet through his face, and sent a burst of Gauss fire in the general direction of that soldier's killer. He was just about to grab the 20mill gun's triggers, and hopefully cut down a few of the enemies, when he heard a voice on the tac-net:
"All Undershis - use grenades on my mark - three, two, one..." by that time Karl was at the window, his rifle hanging from his shoulder on its strap, ready with his grenades... "...mark!" at that, Karl lept up, the plastic frame holding his four fragmentation grenades in his left hand... he yanked all four pins at once, and prepared to throw them... a rifle bullet struck him on his shoulder, penetrating, nearly severing his arm... he fell, the grenade frame falling from his grasp... and landing on the 20mill's ammunition drum... Karl reached for them, felt his blood-slick fingers slipping off the plastic of the frame... he tried to curse, his lips forming the words... but then the grenades went off, and the whole world went away.

First Perspective

IIS Major Ernest Jozanzohn screamed an obscenity as one of the 20mills on the second floor of the building he occupied exploded, blasting a hole into the wall of the house, sending rubble and schrapnel and bits of bodies in Undershi armour flying through the air...
He could only hope the grenade volley he had ordered would have that much effect against the enemy... cursing, he fired another burst from his rifle, and prayed the air support would get there in time...

The Flank

Lieutenant Sword's Third Platoon was moving forward rapidly, making use of the cover afforded. Then.. a canister-shaped grenade clunked in among their position. Unprepared for it, there wasn't time to respond before it went off ... sputtering out smoke.

More aware now, they were ready when the next smoke grenade landed, a Blub snatched it up in one tentacle and tossed it over the hedges. Then.. the WP grenade hit in the middle of the unit. It was grabbed up as well, and thrown over the hedges. It exploded quicker however, lighting the hedges up in phospherous flames. The Blubs moved quickly as their cover began to break up in the white-hot fire.

Third Platoon moved swiftly forward until they found cover in the buildings next to the enemy's one strongpoint.

Base of fire

The Blubs fought fiercely, the .30 cals firing from both ends of the line and the center, spraying the windows of the strongpoint house. Then.. the wave of enemy grenades were tossed towards them.

The Blubs either flattened down in the ditches or dove behind obstacles. A few of the grenades were thrown back into the yard before they could go off. However, the line was soon blasted, covered in smoke. A few tentacles flew through the air as Blubs were hit.

The machine guns were silent for about three seconds, then resumed. The tips of the M1 Garands poked out from behind cover, mounting rifle grenades. The Blubs returned fire, shooting rifle grenades at the windows of the house.

A Blub with a white circle on his helmet and a red cross dashed out from behind cover, rolling over to where another Blub lay wounded. He opened up his medical kit, and while 20mm rounds flew past, the medic began bandaging up his buddy.

Blubs began running forward by squads, covering each other and sprinting towards the edge of the town. They didn't realize it, but getting so close to the enemy would make airstrikes nearly impossible without inflicting friendly casulties.

Undershi 111th IIS Airborn Sector of the "Ring of Iron" around Southern City


IIS Major Ernest Jozanzohn screamed an obscenity as the enemy continued firing at the two houses in which the remaining paratroopers had taken refuge. As he watched, a platoon of IIS Airborn troopers came running down the street to come to the aid of the beleagred forward team... only to be caught in a cross-fire, and forced to hold back.
The 20mills, those three of them that were still operational, continued to send massive volleys of fire out towards the enemy positions, while the remaining soldiers added their rifle fire to it when they could.
As the relief force found itself caught in a fire-fight with the enemy along the Undershi left flank, Ernest decided to shift his firing position. He threw a last grenade, this one a flash grenade, then ran deeper into the house, and up the stairs - as he opened the door that led to the stairs, a body - or rather, most of a body, fell out onto him. He screamed a curse, pushing the heavy torso in its matt-black IIS armour away from his face, forcing it out of the way... on its neck, a tag marker identified the poor dead IIS soldier as Karl Mikialov. Ernest pushed Karl's body aside, then ran up to the second floor...
As he exited the stairwell, he found himself in a scene from some primitive hell - the building was already on fire, the entire left half of its roof blazing from some incindiary bomb or something, a hole blasted into the corner where the now-defunct 20mill had been positioned... there were still men alive - one was wounded, lying on the floor, but still fought, firing his side-arm at the enemy through a hole that had developed during that same cataclysmic explosion... the other 20mill up there was still firing as well, with its two crew men traversing it as they struggled to keep up a decent rate of fire... there were a total of eight corpses, mostly reduced to fragments, in that room. Ernest Jozanzohn had seen a lot of things in his life, but that was one of the worst. He screamed at that, fear finally making its way into his True Undershi head, and he ran down the stairs, calling into the tac-net as he did for the Undershis who still held out in the left-most of the two houses to retreat, to fall back to the other strong-point, to try to link-up with the relief force, whilch was less than a block away, two platoons now...
As he ran out through the door, he heard a familiar noise, and looked up into the sky... there, more beautiful than anything he had ever seen before, was a Crusader mk. II VTOL gunship, hovering overhead while its gunners prepared to fire... it was beautiful... he stared at it, then glanced down towards the enemy positions, and smilled while the two gunners brushed past him, their 20mill on their shoulders. He couldn't help but whisper something, a wish he had developed as the fight against these enemies he had never even seen wore on:
"Burn... it's time for you to die..." his voice trailed off, as the VTOL began to fire its Gauss-autos, cutting into the enemy cover, sending up fountains of dirt... he smilled, and stood out there in the open to watch... he barely noticed as enemy rifle fire converged on him, barely noticed as one bullet struck his leg, forcing him down onto his knees, barely noticed as another struck his shoulder and threw him onto his back... he started to laugh, as his vision faded - it all made sense now, all the blood-mad True Undershi non-sense he had never truly understood...

Center Line

The Crusader found its choices of targets greatly diminished due to the fact that the Blub soldiers had move forward and were now entering the outskirts of the town itself. The .30 calibers were still in position, and while the Crusader blasted at one section, it would take fire from the other three.

The two mortar squads broke, fleeing into the hedges and tall grass as the Crusader's guns tore at the position they'd been preparing to support the attack.

However.. from under the Crusader, three Blubs with bazookas took careful aim, and fired upwards towards the craft's belly.

Captain Summers ducked, then winced as a chunk of shrapnel from the Crusader's guns sliced across his body. He clutched at the wound with a tentacle, then shouted in Blubbish, "Thirties! Aim for the cockpit!"

The three surviving .30 caliber machineguns shifted aim, pouring tracer fire towards the cockpit of the Crusader.

Third Platoon & City Outskirts

A half dozen Blubs lay stunned near the edge of town, the flashbang grenade having gone off right in their faces. They rubbed at their eyes weakly, senses ringing.

The Blubs who had gotten close made liberal use of their grenades on the enemy positions before moving in themselves. The ones with the automatic weapons, like the Tompson or the heavy-hitting BAR took the lead, spraying at resisting enemy soldiers.

one of the Blubs from Second Platoon poked his eyestalks out of a second story window, seeing the Undershi reinforcements trying to approach. "Enemy down below! At least a platoon!" He stuck his BAR out the window, pointed it down into the enemy formation and rattled off his 20 round clip before ducking down and retreating away from the window.

Major Ernest Jozanzohn's Position

The Major would hear odd noises. The Blubs talking. Then.. in the sunlight provided by holes in the roof, he'd see the shape of a WWII GI style helmet leaning over him, a white circle with a red cross on it. A dose of morphine went into him, and his wounds were being bandaged.

Another Blub with Lieutenant's insignia scribbled up a note and held it infront of the Major's face. "Easy Company, 101st of the 1st Airborne. Request you surrender your troops, sir. We have height on them." He offered over one of the Undershi helmet radios, taken off the dead to the Major.

Undershi 111th IIS Airborn Zone

The IIS Major laughed at the Blub request for a surrender, even as the Crusader gunship went down in flames to smash into the already burning remains of the house on the left. He coughed, and a bit of watery blood bubbled up around his mouth, before he managed to reply:
"We are the Undershis. We are the IIS. We do not surrender." as he said those words, the remaining Undershi soldiers, seeing their position was no longer so secure, made a last, desperate effort - they charged, firing their Gauss rifles as they came, fighting like mad men as their rockets added weight to their attack... they knew they had to either conquer or die - there was no middle ground for the IIS.
Mostly... mostly they died. They were assaulting fortified positions from across open ground, firing into the remains of the ruined houses... and taking fire from the defenders.
The attack came apart with dozens of Undershi dead - as the Major watched, they retreated, leaving behind entierly too many dead and wounded in IIS black armour. The Blubs had prevailed here - now they had to force their way in deeper, and attack the next ring of defenses, or fall back, and forsake encircled South City...

In The City

The destroyer Berlin was burning in the harbour, the flames that lept from it lighting the night like a small sun... the 1st Urban Rangers had cleared out the defenders at their AA and anti-shipping guns, but not soon enough - hold-outs had inflicted losses even as they perished. The harbor would need work before it could be used again... it had been blocked, and rendered all but unnavigable by the fighting.
As Captain William DeValles watched, Undershi auxilary boats pulled the wreakage from the harbour, and sprayed fire-suppresant onto the massive wreaks that still floated. His men were still pushing through the city, clearing the way for the Armoured Divisions. He had returned to the harbour to find out what exactly was going on with the Air Support rota - he'd requested a flight of Thunderers to take out a nest of resistance, and had been told to wait...
He could see why, though - a massive aerial armada, larger than any he had ever personally seen before, flew overhead. There must have been at least two hundred and fifty Thunderers and another fifty Lightnings... whoever those planes were about to attack would soon know the meaning of fear...

OOC: HT, what sort of resistance will my guys be encountering in South City?

South City

Captain Summers sat down in the shadow of a ruined building, resting as a medic bandaged him up. He looked up at Lieutenant Sword, whose face was grim. "Lieutenants Grecy and Freen are dead, sir. We lost fifteen others, with twenty wounded."

Captain Summers nodded as the Lieutenant went on, "One of the thirties was destroyed, and we're down to two mortars. First Platoon is securing the houses near here and setting up our remaining machine guns to cover the streets. I've got Second Platoon filling sandbags (With dirt and gravel) to protect the guns. We're stacking the bags up on the inside of the wall."

Sword pointed with a tentacle up the road, the hedge rows lining it blackened and pock-marked. "We could pull out, but there's no cover out there now. We'd be wide open to those gunships and airstrikes again. At least here, they don't know what buildings we're in and we've got cover."

Summers finally spoke up, "I want Poo leading First Platoon, and Jackson leading Second. Take Third Platoon down, see what you can get off the enemy dead. I want bandages, medical supplies, food.. if you can figure out how their weapons work, take some of the heavy ones to replace our thirty-cal. Take their grenades, strip their armor off and nail it up against the walls in our houses to protect our troops."

South City Harbor

Flight Leader Ulrich Smithson was lucky to be alive. The AA gun had shot down his plane during that last attack run... and it had crashed and burned... but he'd ejected in time.
Right now he stood on the deck of the Undershi carrier NietzscheII, and listened to some Admiral or other prate on about Glory and Service... it was starting to get on his nerves when the Admiral finished, and began pinning the medals on. He was one of several to recieve the Survival medal - a decoration given for surviving the downing of your plane... but he was the only one to recieve a silver Service Star - that one was for his daring in the attack run where he had been shot down - he'd come in fast and low to hit an AA site with his missiles... and paid the price.
When the ceremony was done, he made his way to Pilot's Quarters. His new Thunderer had already been assigned, and he intended to get used to the new members of his squadron before their first mission...

Second Landings

The Undershi 97th, 147th and 148th Airborn divisions were schedualed for the drop on the Northern League - 30,000 men, a massive drop... they would be going in with heavy air support, ready to take control of the strategic positions they had been assigned, then to wait for the armour to land and reinforce their positions...
Sergeant Herman Grunning rocked back and forth in the belly of the converted Golden Eagle heavy bomber, waiting for the drop - this one was already being discussed - the Admirals all spoke of it as the "final blow" to destroy the League's ability to resist invasion... he wasn't so sure of that - the League hadn't had that much to start with - but he knew it would be a difficult task, the landing they were about to make...

OOC: HT, can you post about the fighting in South City? I want to know how the armour is progressing on its way to relieve the Airborn divisions.

OOC: HT, are you there? Where are you? We can't really go on with this RP without you...

OOC: Urghle.. I'm here. I just haven't had the chance to respond. The little spare time I've had has been spent replying to a few older RPs, but, rest assured, I'll be posting on... Friday. Yeah. I have a test tomorrow, and an assignment tonight. I haven't abandoned the RP, I've just been doing a lot of stuff, and it's been more a matter of being too tired to do anything with it, and the whole 'every assigment due in the same week' factor, which tends to dampen any wish I have to RP. And then there's NaNoWriMo... yeah. I'm still here.

I'll post the day after tomorrow (tomorrow is a big day, and I'll be out 'till eleven, and I just saw this while I was trying to think of more of my assignment to write), although I've got my end-of-junior-school exams the week after, so I'll be inactive again after that. On the bright side, I have about two months after that of absolutely nothing.

OOC: Friday? Alright - I'll wait to post until then. Anyways, I've come down with something nasty, so I might not be on too much in the near future...

And that was it. Southern City had decided to surrender. The Undershis, despite their firepower, hadn't knocked out the communications, because of the simple fact that communications were quite the distance below the earth. Representative democracy was one thing. Direct was quite another.

In this case.. it was those who had been fighting already, who had voted to fight on. Almost eighteen million had voted to fight on. Of course, some of them were merely rebellious, others guerillas in the outskirts of Southern City. The attack had not yet touched anything but the city outskirts.

But that was to be expected. Southern City was almost like a small, autonomous, highly-urbanised nation within itself. Capturing it was not like capturing a normal metropolis. From underground rail systems, to underground houses.. the city was built far above and below ground.

Representative Gaelor, the man who had just been elected as their leader. Four hundred and eighty-three million votes for him, an overwhelming majority. And he was going to deliver Southern's surrender. Of course, it wouldn't be as all simple as that. There was still resistance in the outer suburbs, quite significant resistance, at that.

A radio channel was opened. They didn't know the frequency the Undershi Empire operated on. Thus, they simply flooded the channels, one message from the broadcasting stations after another. One message.

"We surrender. Stop the attack. We surrender.". Repeated over, and over again. Gaelor looked down at the small pocket radio he held in disgust. Surrender was abominable, especially to such people. But... it was the lives of every man, woman, and child in Southern City, versus his own wishes. He could not condemn half a billion people to die on his whims. The surrender was given. Now that all remained was to see if the Undershi Empire would remain to accept it...

South City

The surrender was accepted almost immediatly. Within an hour, heavy transports loaded with a total of eight divisions of infantry were unloading their True Undershi cargo onto the captured docks, while elements of the 1st Urban Rangers moved in to secure key sites.
Any resistance, even passive resistance, is being met with brutal force - passive resistors are shot after one warning, any violent resistance is put down without mercy - if any prisoners are taken, they are impaled as soon as the IIS torturers decide they know everything the prisoner knew.

Captain William DeValles watched the Viper IFVs as they stood idle, unable to progress down the narrow streets... that had been a problem they had been prepared for - already Engineering units were being moved in, to rebuild the city along lines less suited for guerilla warfare... of course, with a city that large, rebuilding wouldn't be possible, but the main thrust would no doubt be completed - widen the streets so that they would allow the passage of heavy armour.
For the present, the Undershis were having to make do with infantry units, captured or commandered local vehicles, and a few hundred motorcycle cavalry, part of the 1st Urban Rangers support group.
Right now, the Armour was rolling around the city, taking the long route to relieve the beleagered Airborn divisions... from what he'd heard, they were having a hard time of it - he wished them well.
Right now, he had little to do... so he leaned back against a pile of rubble, and watched as a Lord General in dull grey half-armour rode towards the building identified as roughly "city hall," to officially accept the surrender of that city.

Over the Northern League

Flight Leader Ulrich Smithson screamed in triumph as his 20mm cannon and air-to-ground missiles blasted apart a small house, clearing the way for the Airborn troopers on the ground... the Northern League was being occupied, with some resistance to be sure, but not too much - and at this moment, all the Airborn troopers had to do was take the villages they had been dropped on, then wait for the armour or the mechanized divisions to relieve them... and, they had complete air supperiority - any attack against them would be met with concentrated aerial bombardment, aircraft used in the artillery role that had so long been Undershi policy on their use...

South City Suburbs

The aerial armada that had so recently been launched from the carriers off the shore now rained missiles down on the Blub positions, striking with impunity... sure, here and there one or two went down in flames, but there were so many of them... so very many of them...
IIS Major Ernest Jozanzohn watched the aircraft strike at his dug-in captors, and grunted - these people were... odd, that was a certainty, but they were better men than most of his comrades - they had cared for the wounded, even the enemy wounded, and he had yet to see them drag out the hot irons to interogate him... but the Undershis had the advantage in this area - that much he could tell. If he remembered the tactical manuals correctly... he turned to the nearest Blub, and commented:
"This is just the begining, you know - they'll hit you from the air, then open fire with rocket artillery in the lull, then hit you again... they'll make you keep your heads down while they move the regular artillery in to hammer you... and then, once they've got that in position, they'll start hitting you with everything they've got, rockets and shells and mortar bombs at once, and then, they'll stop the bombardment and send in the mechanized units as shock troops... it's all standard procedure... hammer the enemy, keep them pinned, until you can move in overwhelming force...

Because
Undershi
Must
Prevail

OOC: Take liberties with killings, but don't kill off any characters without my consent, mmkay? I have some plans for a few I want to develop.

"..can you imagine it?", he whispered. "For so long.. we said this would happen. Always the lone voice of dissent. The right voice of dissent!"

Ten men sat around in an alleyway, storenotices still holding strong. It seemed that the Undershis simply took what they needed - the areas where they held sway had been given martial law. Jorgan was a rebel, or so he thought himself. One of the few within the League to carry a sidearm, his repeater-rifle was the pride of the resistance cell of twenty he had managed to gather.

At first.. he had seen the Undershis as liberators. Brutal, perhaps. But nonetheless.. they were a damned sight better than the League! Democratic freedom! Pah! There were few checks and balances, and it was more like mob rule, than anything. The frequent elections, coupled with the easiness of voting.. it meant that the candidates changed from month to month, and rarely, if ever, fulfilled promises to re-arm the armed forces. In the days of the League's strength, a Minister for the Armed Services had written a detailed invasion plan, down to the extermination of their 'True Undershi' master race, and had garnered significent support from the government.

At which time the dissatisfied citizenry voted against them. That was the last mildly radical government (at least by League standards), that they'd ever had. And that was almost.. two hundred years ago. CENTURIES! Then, they could've carried it out. Now, the League had disarmed completely. Only one in a million men were in the armed services, where one in a thousand had been deemed to be under-armed.

Great autonomy to individual provinces. More restrictions on arms. It was, in some ways, a utopia. In others, it was hell. The League was like one neverending formal dinner - the speed of communications, and the hatred of anyone who preached war, meant that individual citizens could see their careers ruined by a few accidental remarks. And that was freedom of speech.

Jorgan spat. But then.. there had been yesterday. Yesterday had changed all that. Yesterday was when he had sworn revenge on the Undershi bastards. If he got the chance, he'd kill every last one of them.

He remembered it clearly. They there were, hiding in the selfsame alleyway they hid in now. It was perfect for a hiding place. From the outside, it looked like a building. It had hundreds of nooks and crannies, and led into the sewers. They had been able to escape using it.. twice now.

Jorgan's semi-auto rifle.. he looked down at it, and patted it fondly. Forty-three bullets left. It would have to be enough. His ammunition supplies had been confiscated by a group of soldiers ransacking his house. Soon after that, it had been demolished. But he had forgiven them that. War brought some things.

But, like almost all citizens of the League, he was a firm believer in the rights of each and every human, and that such things should never be infringed upon. Yesterday..

They had been hiding in the alley. A woman, clearly distraught, had run up to a soldier, and started screaming at him. Jorgan had felt contempt, and, apparently, so had the soldier. After a few seconds of the tantrum the woman appeared to be throwing, the soldier emptied the contents of his rifle into her midriff. Jorgan was horrified. But.. still. It was to be expected.

And then... the little girl had come along. She had apparently been hiding in one of the shops. She ran out, and cried, seeing her mother laying there. She ran over to her mother.. and the soldier looked at her, grinning.

The soldier turned, looked straight in Jorgan's direction.. and blew the little girl's head off. A few bullets ripped her tiny skull into a bloody, splintered mess. And Jorgan felt hate. No matter what had happened before, no matter the faults of the League.. some things were inalienably evil.

And so he had shot the man. Eighteen bullets. Luckily, there had been no other soldiers nearby. That had been unusual in itself. Ransacking his body, they'd found some Undershi equipment, poorly kept. The man had probably been a deserter. Or perhaps merely an over-active looter.

He didn't care, either way. And so they met, in the alleyway. "Brothers. As none of you have seen fit to nominate yourself for candidates for the leadership, I am taking control. We have all read the movies, about resistance, and the like. The tiny cells, each man knowing another two's names. However, the Undershi torturers are skilled. I saw one. Half a week ago. No doubt they could drag names from man, slowly working their way across the.. network, I hope to set up."

They all nodded. Silence was paramount, in the tiny alley. He spoke in a low voice, trying to keep it down. This was the resistance's (such as ten men could be called a resistance) safe house. A single manhole into unused sewer-cleanage pipes, which were dark, and infested with all manners of creatures, from rats, to small crocodiles, were fairly dangerous - but not as dangerous as the streets above.

"I want you to recruit men. And men only. Women will be a liability. We will not be moved by anything other than necessity. Find those without family. Without many friends. Those who may join our cause. If they do not join.. kill them. We must be ruthless, and selective. Secondly.. the sewers below belong to a tiny network of sewage, not used any longer. They are clogged, and stink - but this shall work to our advantage. The old sewer-checker's closets, as they are called, shall be our armories. That is all. You ten may know the secrets of the League. We have all ensured our safety with the gargin-drug, which hinders the nervous system's capacity for pain, but there is no more of that."

The men looked at him. They knew that. Of course, he was merely restating it, so that untrustworthy men wouldn't be recruited.

"Do not kill Undershi soldiers near here. Kill them when they stray from their battalions, kill them when they in ones, or, perhaps, twos. When they are unarmored. We need weapons, and we need to slow the enemy advance. From what I have heard.. the city is surrendering. These outskirts will become almost void of Undershi soldiers within weeks. The factories, and the airports will be guarded. They cannot police the entire city's border. To do so would take perhaps two million men, and that would be.. impractical. No, but they will head to the north. Capture our ports. Then there will be no way off Southern, despite where we may flee."

He sighed. "You know all this. Never write anything down. Never record anything. Take new names every week. Simple things. Tell them to our new members. We will surely need them.."

Southern City, Capitol Hall

The building remained relatively intact - in the days of old, this building had been the seat of government for the Southern League. It had withstood Undershi bombing, and, although it was relatively shattered on the outside, it extended underground - indeed, it had been built to withstand nuclear blasts, in the days of old. And now.. Gaelor would surrender it to the invaders. He shuddered. But there was no choice. To co-operate, or the men of evil would inflict even greater evils upon them. He was not a brave man, to risk letting millions of innocents die.

And he stood there.. almost alone. The former politicians had abdicated office and responsibility. His name would go down in the annals of the League as a corroborator, and a traitor. He looked at the Undershi general approaching him - with hate in his eyes.

He held his hands up, to show that he was unarmed. And he spoke, heavily. "I am Representative Gaelor of Southern City. In the name of the populace of Southern City, as their rightfully elected representative, I come to.... offer you our surrender. Unconditional."

He spat out that last word, and looked at the general. Maybe the man would order him shot. Maybe he'd award him with a medal, and administratorship of the city. Right now.. he didn't care.

He looked the general in the eye. He was probably going to die, he knew that. But he wouldn't die like a coward...

Southern Isle, Harlin's Landing, some time later

"So. The League Proper and the Southern League have fallen."

"Nossir. From what we've seen, via intel report, and the occasional satellite photograph, Southern City is preparing to surrender. With the resources of Southern behind them, the Undershi Empire can finance its war with relative ease. We've begun recruiting in all major cities, although the new conscription bill was narrowly defeated."

"Ah. Very good, then, Major. Tell me. What do we know of the New Isles?"

"They're doing the same thing as we are, Lord Commander. It appears that they'll be impotent, however. A tenuous intelligence link gives us the word 'Yallak', although this means little at the moment. The nation it pertains to is relatively aloof from this affair. They've brought four destroyers out of mothballs, and they're gathering up every weapon they can. Several cruiser liners, it appears, have been armed with anti-ship weaponry. They might hold out long enough for us to re-arm sufficiently, although we don't think so. However, there is some even better news."

"Yes?"

"We've located one of the minor Peace Vaults near the Great Oil Cluster. It contained six nuclear bombs. Although we have no means of delivery, and they're only low-kiloton yield, we feel that this will give us the means to deter any initial attack, and give us more time to get our way out of this mess."

"Major.. send three to the New Isles. Ever since those damned Peace Vaults have been buried, nowhere knows where they are. Security issues, goddamnit. If we could uncover the League's cache of nukes.. we could end this damned invasion in double-time. But the people who know where they are, are probably captured, or dead, up in the League Proper. If we can deter an Undershi invasion of the New Isles, they'll act as a buffer for us. Damn.."

"Sir?"

"I'd hoped to have revamped our manfacturing infrastructure for war. We've got plenty of resources, but no way of turning them into guns and bombs. We've only got four major warships of any kind.. and thirteen jetplanes."

The Lord-Commander, as he termed himself, sighed. The Undershi Empire was small, but potent. If the Southern League fell to them.. the abundance of resources, combined with the manufacturing capabilities there.. it sufficed to say that Southern dwarfed the Undershi Empire in manufacturing. Which was not comforting. They would more than double their industrial power, and they could build these ships from the League. Yes, that was grim news.

And, of course, the abundant farmlands of the Northern League, as well as the kelp-farming operations there, would be the second to fall. The New Isles were fairly poor, in comparison, as was his own realm, the Southern Isles. But they were poor because they were unexplored, and unmined.

But the oil cluster between them.. that was where the danger was. It contained insane amounts of oil, and, was, as yet, fairly untapped. Black gold. All ready to ship to the ever-growing Undershi Empire. And control of the refineries of the two island-clusters was vital to making it affordable to take that oil.

He couldn't see a way out. Foreign aid was unlikely - the League, in its morally-judgemental stance, had alienated many former allies within the last few years. But he would do the best he could. Surrender? Never. That much was sure. Perhaps.. perhaps he would send more aid to the New Isles. They could certainly use it...

Undershi Command Ship Periclese, off the coast of the Northern League

"500,000 Janissaries?" the Lord General asked, seemingly suprised by the sudden generosity of the higher-ups. Grand Admiral Andrew Mikialov nodded, absently bringing up the Force Disposition charts.
Things looked good there - the oil derricks were being siezed by destroyers carrying marine units. There had been a few problems, but nothing serious so far - a few crucificions, and the others tended to liten... as the IIS was fond of saying, 'where there's a whip there's a way'... the Lord General cleared his throat, then asked, tentitively,
"Can I expect that the Janissaries will... be released onto the populace of Southern City?" Andrew nodded, answering:
"Yes, you can. We've taken the city - now we send in the occupation troops. That's what Janissaries are for, after all... and we can't really deny the Janissaries their usual rewards, eh? Just a little L & R," he continued, using that hatful phrase, a mocking variant on R & R, the letters standing for "Looting and Rape"... "it'll put the fear of god - or I should say, the Undershi Empire, into the local norms." The Lord General nodded meakly, not daring to contradict his superior. Fifty divisions of Janissaries... he only hoped the good that that many occupation troops would do would outweigh the damage that their inevitable attrocitied would create.
After all, these weren't the Southlands, where peasants were to be terrified into obedience - these people were educated, and used to thinking... things here would almost certainly get ugly... he only wondered how ugly.

Undershi Airborn Positions

While the bombardment of the Blub positions continued, the first tanks of the armoured units rolled into position to support them. The tired paratroopers were relieved, and allowed to rest. Fresh soldiers from the mechanized infantry that accompanied the armour would take over from them... and, in a matter of moments, they would launch their attack to overwhelm the Blubs... Southern City was now truly encircled - no one could escape now...

OOC: The Blubs, if you want to you can RP the initial attacks taking place - even a few Undershi cassualties, if realism dictates...

‘Shall I begin?’ inquired the tall woman standing at the back end of the Imperial High Council chambers. She was clad entirely in the common, non-combat, black uniform worn by Imperial military personnel, save for any kind of hat, instead wearing her reddish brown coloured hair tied back into a pony tail. Next to her, sitting in a hollow in the wall revealed by an opening panel, was a giant one hundred inch screen.

‘Please, General Telán,’ answered Emperor Balor, while the rest of the High Council in attendance merely waited quietly. Six of the nine members of the council were present today for this special briefing, a good turn out given the ever slowly but surely increase in the involvement of the Empire in the international world.

Without wasting a moment, General Nereïs Telán, the head of Imperial Intelligence, began. ‘Well, I know this was unexpected and on short notice but a few hours ago, during one of our routine satellite sweeps of the nearby continents, we detected a large scale military operation here,’ she said pointing a remote at the screen and pressing a button which brought up an image of an array of large and small islands. ‘They call it the Islandic League, I believe.’

‘Yes, wasn’t that on the list of possible places to seize for mass resources during the Kraven war?’ asked the Imperial Guard Commander, Lord Solban.

‘It was indeed, but was turned down due to the lack of pre-existing mining infrastructure which we needed to enable the fast gathering of the resources; having to set it all up first would have taken longer than the war itself. This invasion of the League however provides the rare opportunity to negotiate the inclusion of this nation and its resources into the Empire. If we…’

With a wave of his hand the Emperor cut the Nereïs off. ‘Excellent work, General, I shall make contact at once. While I do that recall the second fleet we were sending to ViZion and have it diverted towards the islands in preparation. ’

And with that the meeting was ended as abruptly as it had begun.

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

Encoded Imperial Transmission
To: The Islandic League Government
From: The High Council of Arrandin

To the leadership of the Islandic League,

The Imperial government of Yallak is aware of the current invasion being launched upon your sovereign territory by foreign aggressors. Normally such things would not be our concern but your nation is fairly close to our own and we do not like when warmongering barbarians replace our peaceful neighbors.

Therefore, I wish to make you an offer - become a member of the Infinite Empire of Yallak and among all the other benefits, you will gain the protection of the might of the Imperial military and we will assist you in driving out the invaders.

For your own sakes, I hope you will accept this generous offer.

Signed
Lord Balor, Emperor of Yallak

The Northern League, Leagueheim

They sat there, shivering, in the bunker. They had not been found. And the sound of footsteps, oh, so many, many footsteps, sounded overhead. They could only imagine the screams, the horror.. and the leadership of the League did not wish to face that.

Above, the massive city of Leagueheim faced that horror. People were dying, now. Food was scarce. And refugees fled the city daily - but, despite the massive size of the island it sat upon, there were few places to run to. The military was trapped, they'd heard, holed up in a large set of well-armed fortifications to the south.

The Undershi had not attempted to conquer those smaller, inner cities, yet. They were harder to reach, and did not have as many people to control. No, for now, the Undershi Empire had conqered a vast portion of the League's population, cowing them into obedience. The neutered Northern League, despite their talk of freedom, had not the weapons to resist. Indeed, weapon ownership was rare in the League, and even moreso in the north.

Education meant little, in times of war. But, even in the Northern League, resistance was being mustered. It was a strange scene. A man stood there, on a footbridge, one that allowed easier access into the city centre. Janissiaries moved along, laughing at him. It seemed they were going to shoot him.

But then, they decided otherwise. They walked up to him, and began.. taunting him. Humiliate your enemy before you kill him. It was the last mistake they ever made. The man's body disintegrated from the explosives hidden on his body - he had seen his wife, and his children, killed the day before that. And then twenty men were dead, the footbridge ruined.

A few more incidents cropped up, but, overall, the League was conquered, the Northern League weakened. The spirit for rebellion had been destroyed before it had even had a chance to rise...

New Isle Aidin, Acting League First Councillor's Office

Ionar looked at the message. He tossed it down, annoyed, and sat on his chair. Leaning back, he thought. The westernmost parts of the League had fallen. He was the midway point between east and west - to reach the Southern Isles, the New Isles would have to be conquered first. And, although consilidation of Southern would take a long time - mines to be maintained, shipping routes to be set up, half a billion people to be fed.. that gave them less than enough time.

He looked at the message on his desk, and sighed. It was offensive. But it had the right to be. Their military was weak, and.. he considered accepting it. The Empire of Yallak was far, far superior to Undershi domination. Yet... he wasn't sure.

A young woman walked into his office. His eighth aide this week. They seemed to drop away like flies, now. His short temper with any incompetency, combined with his lack of sleep.. he cursed quietly. The coffee was, as normal, empty. The stuff was in short, short supply in the New Isles, and the damned laws on coffee.. he looked at his aide.

"Yes, Jennifer?"

"Well, sir, it's.."

"Speak up! Speak up!"

"Sir, we have.. news."

"Yeessss.. what is it, girl? Quickly, now!"

Jennifer looked as if she was going to cry, but then composed herself, and spoke.

"The self-appointed Lord-Commander of the Souther-"

"That damned self-righteous, greedy bastard. What does he want?!"

Jennifer looked at him, took a deep breath, calmed herself, and spoke. "Sir, he is sending us.. three nuclear weapons. Low-kiloton yield. He says we should be able to use them to deter an Undershi attack for some kind.

Ionar's face broke into a smile. "Thank you, girl! That's the best damned news I've had in months! I think I know just how to reply to those uppity Yallak bastards, now..."

His smile grew wider. Condescending buggers would get exactly what they deserved - an equally offensive message.

To Lord Balor, Emperor of Yallak

We apologise, Lord Balor, but we are perfectly content as we are. We possess the willpower to drive out the invaders. In fact, as much as we would appreciate aid, we would not appreciate conquest in another name - such as you offer.

Despite the invasion, our sovreignity is still ours, and will remain so. Perhaps you'd be better served to cast your greedy little eyes elsewhere?

Acting First Councillor, Ionar Indurian
- - - - -

He hit 'send', and relaxed. That was taken care of. Perhaps it was insulting - but it got the message across. He shuddered, and sank back into his chair. God, he was tired! He sunk into unconscious, the sleepless nights finally taking their toll on his body, slumping down onto his chair.

Jennifer looked in, curiously, and grinned, as the First Councillor fell asleep. And then she looked across at the computer screen. And her face turned white...

‘Well, I’ll be…..,’ was all Erkal Dortrean, the Imperial Foreign Minister could come up with when the reply came through from the Islandic League. Insolent little bastards given their situation, he thought as he quickly printed a copy of the message and departed to find the Emperor who had relocated to his quarters after the meeting. Just as he left the room, he almost collided with the Emperor who was at that time coming down to see the Foreign minister.

‘You’ve heard back I take it,’ said Balor reaching out to prevent Lord Erkal from falling over as he attempted to stop.

‘In a way.’ Having straightened himself out Erkal handed the printout over to the Emperor, and could tell he’d just gotten to the good part as the shocked look on his face appeared, followed soon by some icy laughter.

‘Well, they’ll be fine if their weapons use confidence as ammunition,’ said the Emperor, his voice filled with mockery, ‘Thank you Erkal, I’ll deal with this.’

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

Encoded Imperial Transmission
To: Acting First Councillor, Ionar Indurian
From: The High Council of Arrandin

So you’re content to let your nation be overrun, your people murdered and enslaved. I offer sovereign membership in the Empire not conquest, but you choose oblivion instead.

So perhaps I will look elsewhere, there would be no point watching your demise - it is a simple matter to predict the outcome of this battle, your beleaguered League is collapsing. Maybe your soon to be masters will make more logical neighbors after all.

Think about the choice you’re making, the Infinite Empire spans multiple nations with a population of more than sixteen billion people: All free, happy and content. By now you must surely release that Yallak’s help is the only way to prevent this catastrophe in your nation. The Infinite Empire can save you.

Southern City Harbor

Janissary Sergeant Nathan Spence watched the assembly of fifty divisions of Janissary occupation troopers. He knew, as he watched the 500,000 men march into the city, that it would be... an interesting day. The order had been given - key sites were to be secured, and then... and then the Janissaries would be turned loose, to terrify the locals with looting and destruction... for thirty hours, their official orders would be:
"Have a nice time." he found a bitter irony in the policies of the Undershi - use the norm Janissaries as boogey men, to terrify the local norms into obedience with the threat that if they did not obey, then they would be once more subjected to a sacking...
Already the Ox Hauler trucks of the Cultural Directorate were rolling into position - those men, those more disciplined, discerning looters, were going to sack the museums and libraries - to haul the art and artifacts of the conquered people back to Undershi...
He hated the idea of looting... but he still intended to look, and see if he couldn't find a piece of jewlery or two for his wife back home, or some souvineer for his daughter... he wouldn't indulge in any of the other activities that the sack would be marked by - he was still enough of a Paxtonite to know that such things were wrong - but he wouldn't even try to stop the other soldiers from doing as they pleased - there wouldn't be a point to it...

Undershi Command Ship Periclese, off the coast of the Northern League

Grand Admiral Andrew Mikialov smilled as he reviewed the latest lists of incoming forces - the kelp farms would be the next target... but they would be on the recieving end of a very light occupation - mostly they would be held, and the workers there made to work so that the conquered millions could be fed.
For that, a division of specialized troops was being assigned - a variant on mechanized infantry, with heavily armed speed boats instead of IFVs. That unit was the... 1st Regular Army Amphibious Infantry Division. He smilled, feeling happy and relaxed - soon the food supply of the islands would be under control, and then it would all be over barring the screaming... on that note, he checked his watch - the Sack of South City would begin in less than an hour...

Undershi Command Ship Periclese

Grand Admiral Andrew Mikialov read the latest reports, and tried to ignore the sound of Thunderer fighter-bombers taking off in the background. Another 100,000 men were on the way, as more reserves were being called up... all 100,000 of these men would be True Undershis. He wondered how the industries back home were doing with so many True Undershis called up. He assumed they'd manage - after all, they now had captured League factories to help pull the weight of the Undershi military machine along...
It looked like it was time for another Airborn assault - this one on the New Islands. Only 10,000 men would be used, but he felt sure they would be enough to hold down the villages and cities they hit until reinforcements could arrive.
That reminded him of the Northern League - two divisions of Armour and one of Mechanized Infantry had just begun pushing in to relieve the paratroopers who had already hit the interior. Things were looking good there, as far as he was concerned...
But then there was the League Proper. Southern City was all but taken - the Sack was underway, almost entierly through, and he thought that being shown Undershi cruelty would help them appreciate Undershi leniency... which could never be called Undershi kindness.
The Marine units that had been sent to the oil derriks seemed to be doing well - he wondered what sort of resistance they would meet. The kelp farms were the next objective - he made a notation, and assigned the destroyer Berlin to assist the 1st Regular Army Amphibious Infantry division - they needed to take those kelp farms if they were going to hold onto the League... until the kelp farms were brought under control, things would be getting bad - he made a note, and sent a requisition in to the High Command that they send a few extra boatloads of food over, so that he could feed the civilians they had taken.
That done, he went over to the windows of the Observation Deck, and looked out at South City harbor, where engineering units worked to fix the damage done, and Occupation Police with whips drove chain gangs of local norms to drag Shore Defense and anti-aircraft guns into position. He didn't see the purpose of rebuilding the shore defenses when the enemy lacked the naval strength to threaten an attack, but he had been given that task as a priority... and so he did what he was ordered to do.
He had other orders, too... he walked back over to his computer, and composed a new Order for the Air Wings of his fleet - they were to comb the islands, and look for any surviving enemy warships or aircraft. He knew there was a Resistance movement out there - he just didn't know where.
When he finished, he closed his eyes, and leaned back on the couch in his private section of the observation deck, and clicked on the music player - Wagner began to play faintly as he tried to relax... tried to relax while a city burned...

OOC: Whew, hard to write offensively from this perspective. But, still, we need an excuse for a multi-front war, with the poor ol', undermanned League stuck in the middle. ^_^.

To: The High Council of Arrandin
From: Acting First Councillor, Ionar Indurian

We are free people. What you offer is not sovreignity, it is the offer for us to relinquish our nationship, our right to self-rulership, and our power, for your safety. I think there is a succuint way to sum this up.

Never. You can take your offer of 'protection', and put it wherever you deem fit, but we are, and will continue to be, a free, self-governed people. Evil prevails when good men do nothing. Perhaps you have heard the saying. But, nonetheless, we will not stand by idly, and let our freedom be taken from us. No, we will fight. We will fight the Undershi Empire, and you and your damned imperial ambitions if they choose to come north to the League.

I advise, most courteously, that you restrain your ambition, and perhaps take up a new form of governance. One that doesn't rely on obsolete old bloodlines, with sickening royalty to take advantage of the hard work of the people.

- - - - -

The message was sent. Ionar was angry, now. The Northern League, as well as Southern, were both firmly under Undershi control. He'd heard the tales - and the stories, of the brutality there. He grinned. Three nuclear bombs. They wouldn't be enough. But he wasn't about to give his leadership over to Yallak, and he'd be damned if the Undershi Empire was going to take it from him.

OOC: I might draw up a map, indicating Undershi control (And Yallak control, once they enter the way) some time, just so we can all see how the war's going, and who controls what.

OOC: I've been making a real effort for a while to take control of the kelp farms and of the oil sources - how's that going?

Encoded Imperial Transmission

To: Acting First Councillor, Ionar Indurian
From: The High Council of Arrandin

Fool! With your destruction so imminent, you now turn to insulting the Imperial Government? Well, this is one “sickening” government that doesn’t take kindly to such linguistic slander. I offered you a defence against your enemies - a chance to avoid death - and in return you, with your undoubted lack of knowledge in matters of our state governance, seek to worsen your own situation.

Know that an Imperial Fleet was dispatched to your League before we first contacted you. They were coming to aid you, but unfortunately without as little as an apology from yourself, you will find they are a far worse enemy than the Undershi could ever hope to be.

[signed]
Lord Balor, Emperor of Yallak

Jennifer walked into Ionar's office, and, without speaking to him, looked at the message sitting on his desk. She swore.

"What the fuck were you thinking? This will mean war, for the League! With the fucking Yallak Empire!"

Ionar simply looked at her. "Temper, temper."

"How the hell can you think of my fucking temper at a time like this!"

"Now, my dear, be reasonable. They will attack, of course, and they will be forced to combat the Undershi menace, who are far more potent then we are. We have signed no treaties with them, and, although riskier, we may yet preserve our freedom."

"I-you unbelievable son of a bitch.. you.. you.."

Her voice cut off, as Ionar rose, and pulled out a drawer from his desk. "Be silent, girl. Insubordination is not tolerated here. We are fighting a war."

"I know that, you-"

Before the insult could escape her lips, Ionar had picked up a pistol, calmly turned off the safety, and emptied two rounds into her neck.

Jennifer fell to the ground, the carpet around her turning red, blood jetting out, spotting the floor.

"Such a pity. She was pretty. But no.. I cannot allow the League to fall to barbaric invaders. No matter what comes to pass. We have our pride, and we will fight to keep that. Do you understand?!"

He leaned down to the corpse, and looked into its dead eyes. He grabbed it by the shoulders, and screamed at it.

"DO YOU HEAR ME?!".

He let it slump back onto the ground. No, he had a nation to run. A war to win. Enemies to kill. He smiled. And sent the last message back to Yallak.


To: The High Council of Arrandin
From: Acting First Councillor, Ionar Indurian

Perhaps you would be better to look to your own safety, Emperor Balor. We are a weak people. Not a defeated one. We will not fall to you, nor the Undershis, nor any damned nation that comes to assail our freedom.

Should you defeat us, we will not calmly go under your yoke. Perhaps you have the greater number of ships and planes. Yet men die as easily from a single blade as they do from a thousand battalions.

Consider that..

Acting First Councillor, Ionar Indurian.

- - - -

He looked up with anger at the Undershi controllers. From what he'd heard, he got 'preferential' treatment. It was still horrible. No luxuries, no LeagueNet, no.. no anything! Oh, he was fed, and he had his own room, as his position as Farm Programmer, the only person there qualified to organise the vast quantities of bland, tasteless, and yet nutritious help into the boats they were to go into.

The Undershis, here, had been intelligent, it seemed. The kelp farms produced enough food to feed the majority of the League, their massive lengths spanning tens of thousands of square kilometres, each.

Their control of Southern, however, was vital to their cause. The oil derricks there, although overused, still tapped into massive amounts of the black gold. And that, of course, went to fuel Southern's burgeoning weaponry industries. Which, in turn, went to give the Undershis more weaponry, more armor units, and more equipment, which they then used to perpetrate their control of Southern.

- - - - -

Southern City

How did they retain such control? The entire damned area was cowed by the Undershis! And there was, at best, one soldier to each thousand of them! They had the sheer weight of numbers, and, due to the League's cowardice, they decided not to use it.

No, it was something different. The urbanisation. The city extended far above and under-ground, and housing for people was often a 'cell', a padded, four-foot high room, with enough space to lie down, and use a computer, or watch a movie. Although those luxuries were generally cut off nowadays.. he sighed. Organising a rebellion was relatively easy. Fifty men were with him, now, and every day, they raided Undershi troops. But the simple matter of the fact was that the population was super-concentrated. In a rural area, the invaders would've long since given up, or at least simply scorched the area. But Southern was so- so compact, that it was easy to police everyone. Declare some streets forbidden, and shoot anyone in there.. restrict legal travel to the main roads, and patrol them.

He, of course, disobeyed the Undershi rules with alacrity. It wasn't as if they often looked in the darker streets, and he, also, had a gun. He cursed, and looked. Another patrol was coming. He quickly shifted a block of rubble, curling himself into a ball under the pile of glass and concrete...

- - - - - - -

OOC Note: I figured that you'd probably be caught up in controlling the northernmost islands (that's where I've placed Undershi, on my little map. Yallak is to the south. Although, since we're primarily at sea, and a lot of it really, really open, it's not like there are any true barriers to attacking from anywhere else.), and Southern is an inhospitable hellhole, for the most part. It has uranium, iron, coal, etc, but I think controlling those resources (as opposed to controlling the people and factories) would be a secondary goal for the Undershi invaders.

I'm using the term 'controlled' very loosely, to mean that you know what's there, and you're directing the main infrastructure there, and you have transport around. Naturally, the sheer size of what you're conquering means you have minimal control over the rural populace, and you probably won't be patrolling the roads, but you are controlling the resource production/manufacturing there, which are the important things.

I'm considering another colour of lines

Oh, and here's a brief population breakdown, just to make things easier.

Southern City: 500 million (rest of continent population negligible)
League Proper: 3.5 billion
Southern Isles: 600 million
New Isles: 1.5 billion

At the moment, the Undershi Empire controls about 1/2 of the League Proper population, and the entire Southern City population. The Southern Isles, and New Isles respectively remain free, and actively defending themselves.

Blue denotes New Isle control, and Green denotes Southern Isle control. Once a rebellion is actively organised, I'll give it its own colour (once it begins controlling territory), and once Yallak invades, it'll probably get brown, or some equally sparkly colour. I think I'll assign dark red for "Super-controlled" areas (areas in which the entire damn place is under Undershi control, not just the major resource/manufacturing infrastructure), and darker colours for each invading nation.

http://img168.imageshack.us/img168/6449/newrealmconquest2bg8.jpg

Taskforce Komarr
Bridge of the Fleet Flagship, the IYS Bloodthirster

‘Range to final waypoint?’ inquired the Imperial Supreme Commander as he looked over his ships tactical display. Using an array of radars and satellite uplinks, the sophisticated device projected a 3D map across a dinning table sized stand, and at this time it was focused upon the ‘Islandic League’, allowing probably the most brilliant naval tactician within the Empire to plan the upcoming battle. Although he was receiving intelligence regarding the Undershi forces, the Supreme Commander knew it would be unreliable at best and had been constantly revising his plans the entire trip with every new bit of information.

‘Two hundred kilometers due North, Commander Dagon,’ answered one of the bridge officers quickly over the low background noise of the general activities on the bridge. Personnel worked casually but efficiently to coordinate the fleets readiness as it grew closer to the League and it was this dedication and skill that would allow the three Imperial battlegroups that had been dispatched to complete their mission with a minimum, if any, amount of problems.

Leaving the tactical display, Dagon walked over to the ships communications terminal and was just about to activate it and give the battlegroups their orders when it began to give out a high pitched beeping noise: an incoming communication. The Commander swiftly pressed a button on the console and a small holographic image of the Emperor, about fifteen centimeters high, appeared.

‘Lord Balor, a pleasure, I am almost in position to begin our attack, said Dagon, nodding a formal greeting to the Yallakian Emperor.

’Yes, about that Commander,’ started the Emperor, ‘the situation has somewhat changed in the last few hours. The League has made a mistake they refuse to amend, and now we must make an example of them. You are to seize control of every one of their islands.’

‘You want me to invade them?’ stuttered the Commander, finding the idea confusing. The Empire was not in the business of conquering other nations, well it hadn’t been before he took to the sea a few days ago anyway. ‘Has the Senate agreed to this? And anyway, I don’t have the ma….’

‘Yes, Dagon,’ interjected the Emperor, ‘the Senate concurs with the Councils stance. And don’t worry about ground forces, available Legions are already readying or shipping out to you. Your other objectives still stand too – the Undershi must be eradicated. Good luck, Commander.’

A few seconds later and the Emperor’s image vanished, leaving the Commander to return to his tactical map and re-plan the entire operation all over again.

Grand Admiral Andrew Mikialov watched the satelite feed, and wondered what they would do... already another force was on the way from the Undershi mainland - forteen more carriers and their attendant fleets would be there by morning.
A flight of Golden Eagle heavy bombers were on the way too - he hoped they wouldn't be needed. He hoped there could be a peaceful solution to the incoming Yallak fleet... but he had his doubts.
He wondered why the Undershi Empire had ever allowed itself to become tied down in such an occupation as this... but he knew the answer - the Empire needed to expand, to incorporate new land, every few years, or the entire system would collapse. There was always a need for new sources of Janissaries, for new raw material... for new genetic material to be incorporated into the Race in the form of new True Undershis.
Now he faced a problem - Yallak seemed intent on invading, and that could be bad... the Undershis literally needed to keep the League, or their government would likely collapse... so they would fight, if it came to that... but no - he had that new communique from Aleksander Miller, those new orders... so he had the communications officer open a channel to the Yallak fleet, and made an offer:
"On behalf of Aleksander Miller, Leader of the Undershi Empire, I offer you the remaining unoccupied portions of the Islandic League in exchange for a peace treaty. That is - we offer you the New Islands and the Southern League, while we keep the League Proper and the Southern continent. We already have control of the oil derriks, but we offer a treaty under which they can be exploited jointly by our two nations. We even offer favorable terms - we pay for the maintainence and upkeep, while you claim 60% of the product removed from the sea. That is what we offer. We hope that you accept it... because if you do not, then, well, further negotiations might be possible... but we also offer war."

Taskforce Komarr
Bridge of the Fleet Flagship, the IYS Bloodthirster

At just over one hundred kilometers from the League the communications console began beeping it’s alert again for an incoming transmission. A few moments later and Dagon and the bridge crew were listening quietly as the Undershi representative delivered his offer.

’Interesting…’ said the Commander simply, before turning to the Bloodthirsters Captain. ‘Send the offer to the Emperor and then signal the fleet to prepare for the attack.’

‘Of course, Sir,’ saluted the officer before he walked off to carry out the orders. Only minutes later Imperial ships were moving into new formations and countless planes began launching from the carriers. Behind them came a vast array of amphibious assault ships and transports bearing the Empires initial landing force.

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

Some time later the reply from the Emperor came through and Dagon immediately sent a response to the Undershi…

‘This is Supreme Commander Dagon of the Yallakian Navy.

I afraid the Infinite Empire must decline your offer. The League has earned their downfall through bitter words with us and the fate of their islands is now unavoidable. They are to be made an example of to the world.

If you wish to join the Empire then such things can be considered. If not, then leave, or I will be forced to destroy you.’

Undershi Command Ship Periclese

Grand Admiral Andrew Mikialov cursed bitterly as he recieved the new communique from the Yallak fleet. It looked like war... which would be bad. Sighing, he turned to his communications officer, and ordered:
"Alright. Get me the High Command. I want everything we've got here on the double... and," he added, a little reluctantly, "tell them I think we should call up the Final Reserves... this war will be a terrible one... and I fear we might not win even with all forces commited." the communications officer nodded, and sent that message. That done, Andrew sat back in his seat, and waited... he would see which way the high command would jump, and then he would act.

OOC: HT, I assume I can't call up my allies, eh?

OOC: It'd probably be better not to, unless Yallak really brings in the big guns. After all, you could probably get quite a few units of League auxiliaries, and the factories in both the Southern and Northern League you possess can churn out a lot of military gear in short order. If you think you need an ally - can you keep it to one ally, at most?

All throughout the captured areas of the League, posters were being put out, all calling on the League citizens to enlist in Jannissary units to fight the Yallak invaders. The propaganda they released was unsubtle - it basically said:
Fight for us. We will enslave you and use your labor to enslave others... but these Yallak swine will exterminate you." the second part was untrue, the first part was. These posters were backed up by a major campaign of "niceness" on the part of the occupation authorities - no more sacking, no more legal looting... the IIS men even crucified a Jannissary rapist, to show how the Undershi government respected and loved its norm workers... it remained to be seen how many locals would believe them...

Undershi Command Ship Periclese

Grand Admiral Andrew Mikialov nodded slowly as he listened to the man from the Colonial Ministry. Finally, he nodded, and spoke in reply:
"Alright. Convert all factories that we can to producing war material... I want armour and weapons for Jannissaries given precedence... if we can pull off the propaganda campaign, we will be fighting this war primarily with Jannissaries." the man from the Colonial Ministry nodded, and fiddled with the arm computer he wore.
After a moment, he answered the unspoken question:
"We believe we can get a good number of soldiers from the local population... fewer than we would have before you let the Jannissaries lose to sack South City, but many none the less." relieved, Andrew nodded, then went back to work, not looking up as the Colonial Ministry man left. There was a lot to do...

Taskforce Komarr
80 km South of the League’s Southern Continent

The bulk of the Imperial fleet, roughly two thirds of the taskforce, now sat stationary off the coast of the Southern Continent, poised but not making any aggressive moves. Warships prepared cannons and missiles while the carriers fueled, armed and readied armadas of aircraft within their hangers, but to any observers they would appear inactive. Overhead, multiple squadrons of Yallakian fighters circled the area, performing combat aerial patrol, ready to respond to any threat at a moments notice.

‘There has been no reply from the Undershi, Commander,’ Dagon was informed by one of the bridge crew as he re-entered the room after taking a moment to get some food. ‘Are we going to wait for one, Sir?’

‘No,’ replied the Commander coldly, as he activated the ships communication console. After a few moments the holographic display flickered to life, and a man in his early forties came into focus; Dagon’s long time service colleague, veteran and Fleet Commander in the Imperial fleet, Ajir.

‘Commander Ajir, what’s your status?’

‘I’ll be in position and at full readiness within the hour, Sir,’ answered the little depiction of the Commander, which still flickered every few seconds.

‘Good, signal me as soon as you are and we shall begin. Dagon out.’

OOC: Basically I’ve got 2/3 of the fleet below the South Continent and 1/3 heading east towards The New Islands.

The Yallak fleet had split off a task force that was headed for The New Islands. It had split itself up, and was so far sticking to what had been offered to it under the terms of the proposed peace... but that was not enough for the Undershis. They needed an assurance of peace.
So, the High Command had called Grand Admiral Andrew Mikialov, and told him to organize a little display... which he had done.
14 Carrier Groups were en-route from Undershi Proper, The Fleet of The Pacifics had been recalled to form a new fleet, and was set to launch for The Islandic League in a matter of weeks...
But, at this moment, there were only 27 Carrier Groups in the entire League. They had an advantage, though... the option to attack the main Yallak fleet, and leave the other too far out to do anything for a while, and then faced with the incoming relief fleet, and its Thunderer fighter-bombers and missiles...
It looked like it just might work - if the Undershi gave the Yallaks a bloody nose, then perhaps they'd accept a treaty... somehow, that thought reminded Andrew of the wishful thinking of the Japanese before Pearl Harbor. Everyone knew how that had turned out.
He shook his head back and forth, and grimly tried to clear away the dark thoughts. He could only hope he would be as succesful as the Japanese had been...

Attack Run

Flight Leader Ulrich Smith licked his dry lips, and waited for the Launch order. It was official - an all-out attack against the main Yallak fleet, to be launched all at once, with all the might of the main Undershi fleet...
In a few moments, the Thunderers would launch, rising up into the sky in a massed formation.
A few moments after that, the missile launchers would open up, sending hundreds of high speed missiles flying into the air, to land amoung the Yallak ships and cut them to pieces... or, at least that was what the Moral Lecture had said they would do.
If that was the case, then Ulrich wondered why the Thunderers would be needed. They had all been issued special medication - pills to ward off fatigue.
It looked like the higher-ups expected a long, drawn-out, battle, a massive slaughter, something to last for days. That didn't bode well for pilots like himself... but, he had no choice - it was as they had said in boarding bootcamp, when they'd been teaching him how to do the basics, like read and fire a Gauss rifle... his soul belonged to service.
He smilled, a memory rising unbiden - those funny first school books, with the colorful pictures... he remembered that funny one, with Corporal Alekzandrovski, burning the fat ugly norms with his flame thrower, the stupid norms panicing and running, breaking cover like the born cowards they were, to die at the hands of the supporting troops... he remembered laughing, as he'd looked over that picture, to see how fat and stupid and ugly the enemy soldiers were, and how they fled. Now, now he was older, and had killed enemy pilots by the dozens... he had seen what fire could do to a man, when they'd seen the bodies of pilots who had died when their planes had been shot down and had burned...
Somehow, that childrens book didn't seems so funny anymore.
Still, he had a job to do - these norms weren't willing to all be fat and stupid and drunken, so some True Undershis would die... but they would die striking the enemies of the Empire.
Ulrich licked his dry lips, and the launch order came, and he felt the force of gravity as his Thunderer shot into the sky... time to fight, time to die... he would see how the battle would go.

Reply, coming soon to a thread near you!

OOC: I'll have a post ready sometime tomorrow.

The Islandic League Jannissaries were being taken into the forces as quickly as was possible... which wasn't fast enough for Grand Admiral Andrew Mikialov's taste.
The attacks against Yallak were underway, but the dieing hadn't begun yet, so he took a few moments to check things.
The forteen carrier relief force was on the way - it would soon be within striking distance. With it came 60,000 soldiers... which, if they made it safely to the League, would bring the Undershi presence up to... he paused, and thought for a moment... 2,140,000 men from the army, 80,000 marines, and the Undershi fleet.
He knew it was a massive force, the largest ever gathered by the Undershi for any purpose... but he also knew that, when faced with the might of the Yallak fleet, all it would be able to do would be to sting, to sting like an insect and hopefully to delay... but, delay for what? For the incoming relief fleet? That would strengthen his force by almost half again... but no, even then it would not be enough.
He thought about the assembling Fleet of The Pacifics - that was a force that would be twice the size of his forces even when the latest relief fleet arrived... but it would not arrive for weeks. Things looked hopeless, as far as he could tell... but, he would fight, and see what he could do to the enemy. All was not yet lost, and while his fleet survived, he would fight. That was all a True Undershi could do.

OOC: Well, that's one massively glorified BUMP...

"..why?"

"Because they'll damn well feed me, that's why! Where else can we go? The rest of Southern is a bloody desert! They're barely feeding us here as it is.. and going to war has got to be a damn sight better than starving."

Harry looked at his friend. "And.. besides. Chances are, we'll all going to die anyway. If I get sent somewhere with the army, I might just be able to skip out, and find a new home elsewhere."

His friend shivered. "Harry.. fine. Join them. I won't, though. Not now. Not ever."

"I know, Sam. I know that. Just don't try and stop me, kay?"

The new recruitment campaign was cause for concern among the members of the fledgling rebellion. Perhaps fifty, a hundred thousand, had joined up, all over the city. A miniscule amount - one in every five thousand men, but not an inconsiderable one. Although they would no doubt be armed poorly.. they could tip the balance.

OOC: Sorry about the crap post I didn't have as much time today to write this as I though I was going to.

Taskforce Komarr: Main Fleet

‘Commander Ajir is in position, Sir,’ declared the Bloodthirster’s Captain, Urian.

Dagon gave an off-handed thank you to the man, already aware of that fact because he had been monitoring the fleet on the ships tactical display. He glanced away from the map and looked at his watch. Perfect. Everything was running on time down to mere seconds of the arranged schedule.

Then the tactical display sent out a resounding beep, and several flashing red planes appeared at the edge of the 3D image on the tactical display. The gap between the fleet at the center of the map and the maps edge equated to a distance of some several hundred kilometers, but the radar had begun picking up non-Imperial planes, closing in fast.

Captain Urian moved across the bridge to join the Commander as the alert came through. ‘An Undershi attack?’ he said after a few moments thought, ‘Shall I order the fighters to intercept?’

‘No, Captain. If this really is an Undershi move then our carriers will be high on the priority list. There is still a significant amount of time before they reach us, use it to get all the aircraft off the carriers. Have the fighters deploy into a screen and prepare for engagement and send the bombers out wide.’

‘What will they do, we can’t just leave them in the air?’

‘We proceed as planned, Captain,’ insisted the Commander, un-phased by the incoming ‘threat’. If these fools think they can have the technology, experience or training to defeat us then it will be their last mistake. We will destroy their aircraft over the seas while the bombers circle the battle and destroy any defences or airfields. And signal Commander Ajir to begin his attack.

Battlegroup of the Coast of the New Islands

It took mere seconds after the order came through for Ajir’s battlegroup to commence its offensive. As precision cruise missile strikes began being launched against any identified defensive position or anti-aircraft emplacements, the Imperial carriers began deploying aircraft and landing craft ferried the first wave of ground forces towards the shore.

Shore

Incoming missiles burst in the air as CIWS fire struck home, other missiles got through, and sent up fountains of dirt, sometimes with bits of guns and the body parts of the crews thrown in.
The defenders had been prepared - this beach had looked like the most obvious target - so they had fortified it. Python Towed Field Guns looked down at the landing ground over a trench network held by well equipped Janissaries, while mortar batteries, Anaconda SP artillery and Gryphon MLRS units waited for orders as to where to fire.
The landing craft came into engagement range.
Heinrich Muller, a sergeant in the 137th Artillery Group, ordered his gun to fire its first shell. It did - the Python gun boomed, and a 135mm shell hurled out into the sea, followed by scores of other shells, both from the dug-in defensive artillery and the mobile artillery units further back.
Overhead, enemy aircraft came swooping in... only to be met by a vertiable reverse hail of SAMs and CIWS fire. The anti-aircraft sites had been well protected, since the CIWS platforms were part of their section... now it was time for the enemy to feel pain, as they strove to force a landing.
They didn't have the skies to themselves for long, either - a single Flight of Lightning interceptors, launched from some inland base, came roaring in to face the enemy, suicidally ready to die, as all True Undershis were...
Heinrich Muller smilled - it would be a long, hard, day, but the enemy would suffer so very much for their arrogance. No unaugmented humans could match the Undershi.
He frowned for a second as he considered the Jannissary soldiers dug in in front of his units position, but then he smilled. As the Python boomed again and again, supported by Rattlesnake 88mm rapid fire cannons on either side, he shouted to the Jannissaries dug in in front of his gun:
"Just try to run, you cowardly norms, and I'll give you a taste of canister shot!"

In the Air

Flight Leader Ulrich Smithson grinned as he saw the enemy fighter screen up ahead. They had no idea what they were about to face.
The Lightning interceptors tasked to guard the incoming wave of Thunderer fighter-bombers rose to meet the enemy from above... while the Thunderers made a quick dive towards the water, and deployed their cargo. Torpedoes. Ten thousand torpedoes, now heading straight for the enemy fleet. He went on the radio, and spoke to his squadron:
"Excelent work. Now, let's teach those norms why the Thunderer is refered to as a fighter-bomber..." as he spoke, the signal came, and those same flights of Thunderers that had so recently seemingly proven their lack of Air-to-Air orientation by launching torpedoes now pointed at the underside of the enemy formation, and in unison with the Lightnings above their position, launched a saturation barrage of Air-to-Air missiles. It was good to be clever...
Each Thunderer had been kitted out with a mixed load - half torpedoes, half Air-to-Air missiles. They would make the enemy pay, for each mile they advanced...

Recruiting

The recruits were taken to hastily organized Training Centers, where Jannissary sergeants drilled them in tactics and gave them target practice... they were on higher than normal rations the whole time, and were even given "pay" in the form of food ration cards they could send back to their families.
Such were Undershi attempts to create an effective force, and to increase enlistment...
The new League Jannissaries were equipped with better weapons than they had expected to recieve - what the Undershis refered to as "half-armour", and Gauss rifles of their own. Even heavy weapons were available.
The captured factories of the League allowed for all the production the Undershis could wish for...

Relief Fleet

The relief fleet has launched its fighters and bombers, which are currently on their way to attack the smaller enemy fleet, supported by missile attacks from both the fleet already in the islands, and the relief fleet itself.

OOC: Hello? Is anyone there still?

OOC: Is this RP dead? I mean, no one's posted in a while, and if it died, well, then I'd be able to send some troops somewhere... so, does it live or did it die? Hello? Anyone there?

Starvation. It had been the watchword of Southern City for weeks, now. It was not that there was not food to spare - no, even though the League numbered in the billions of people, the farming and kelp industries spanned vast, vast areas, enough to feed twice their amount. Indeed, the greatest challenge that had always met the League previous was not production, but transportation.

And that, too, was the challenge they met now. Transportation and distribution. Administration of a city such as Southern was not easy, and the Undershi overlords had not picked it up as ably as their previous leaders. Thus, the outskirts were fed reasonably well, and the centre was fed reasonably well - but there were pockets of disease and hunger throughout the city, some expanding, some contracting.

Mines still worked, as did factories - but no longer did they churn out the goods that the people of the League were used to - computers, luxuries, delicacies, unneeded things; no, they built great weapons of war, every non-vital factory retooled, or in the process of being retooled, to construct artillery, tanks, and weaponry. This was the fate of Southern City.

And it was in this horror that the League Janissaries arose. Most of the populace were pacifists - but not due to any true sense of brotherhood, not to any well-borne hardships, but because of fashion, and because of politics. There were still many who were willing to fight. And, in the starving areas of the cities, the new Janissaries arose, rathering to take their chances with the bullet and blade, as opposed to the empty belly.

They came, at first, in their thousands. And then in their tens of thousands. And then, in their hundreds of thousands. Like a great flood, there were few places where League citizens were not standing in front of a recruiting station, few waypoints in the city where the new Janissaries were not placed. Were they loyal? Perhaps not. But the League had never had the same sense of.. nationalism that other countries had. It was merely a conglomerate of like-minded states and cities, not a true entity in its own right. There were many who would fight to overthrow the Undershis, but few, very few, now, who would fight to restore the League.

The men ran forward, ready to face the Yallak enemy, their rifles raised, prepared to fire. They didn't really have much of a choice. If they fell back, they would be cut into mincemeat. If they stayed where they were.. their chances improved only marginally.

A shot rang out from one of the Janissaries. He swore, and a bullet cut him down. It had come from behind. "Now, let that be a lesson to the rest of you! Obey orders!". The others looked all the more resolutely ahead, and prepared to fight...

The New Islands

Within minutes, the attack was over. They were well-armed, yes, with rifles, and armor. But in terms of anti-ship weaponry, they had nothing. Missiles flew through their ranks like scythes through grain, and, indeed, the League had never been able to defend their islands. It was simple enough, in nature. Considering the size of the League - it was vast beyond comprehension, and considering the fact that the majority of it was easily accessible, fortification would've done no good - the attackers could've simply moved a few kilometres up or down the coast.

Indeed, the troops there had never been prepared for an attack, they had been there to spot the enemy. And a radio message meant they did exactly that.

"This is Sergeant Greenhill. We have spotted enemy ships. They don't fit any Undershi design-.. they're firing! Send help! We're under heavy fire! Se-"

The voice cut out. Ionar scowled. "Well. We're going to need to conduct a ground defense. The bomb is set?"

"Yessir. The bomb is set."

"All of the bombs?"

"...yessir. Sir, I can't honestly condone doing what you're sugg-"

"Shut up. Just.. shut up! We have no choice. Some may die to preserve freedom. It is their duty. If we have to sacrifice a million to remain free, we will do so!"

The general, Scott Garan, looked at him, and shuddered. Ever since the Yallak declaration of war, Ionar had grown more and more fanatical, always obsessed with the singular idea of freedom. Nuclear weaponry had been set in several places, the most frightening of these the one that sat directly below them. Ionar did not intend to let them take his capital. Nor any of the other vital locations in the New Isles.

Scott hoped, just.. hoped, that he could conduct a successful defense. If they took any of the.. afflicted areas, everyone there would die. And 'everyone' in those areas were quite a few people...

The newly recruited Jannissaries were not sent directly to the fighting. They were set aside, and trained while others died fighting Yallak. It was a sort of odder ruthlessness, a bit of the seeming kindness that made the Undershi so hard to understand. They had already decided, when they had called for new troops, that mere cannonfodder would be at best worthless, at worst... at worst, the mass slaughter of their countrymen might be enough to rouse the majority of the League from its slumber, and set it on the path to revolt.
So the Jannissaries trained. They trained to fight as armoured units, trained to fight as artillery units, trained to fight as mechanized units... they would have to be worth something, have to have some chance of survival, before they could be sent to die. The Undershi did not believe in waste.
Meanwhile, a constant stream of transports brought IIS and True Undershi Army soldiers in ever increasing numbers, along with supplies and weapons for the Undershi and Jannissary troops.
Some transportation was even redirected to ensure that the food supplies did not run too low in any section of the League... and the Occupation Police, grim and deadly with their automatic shotguns in their white armour, moved in as well.

Grand Admiral Andrew Mikialov whistled as he saw the latest statistics. At this point, some four million Undershis were in the League, under his command, counting land sea and air forces. He now commanded a good tenth of all the Undershi military forces throughout the world. Good. He had seen the oncoming horde of Yallak... he would need every bit.
The real good news, he decided as he continued to read, was the number of Jannissaries they were recruiting. They weren't able to use them to hold down occupied areas - doctrine was against that... but they were able to train them, and prepare them to fight. Soon they would be ready... and then? Hundreds of thousands of Jannissaries would join the millions of Undershis under his control.
He made a note in the margin of the report he was reading. He would have the new man in charge of the Occupation Police and their foreign Jannissary auxiluaries bring in special supplies for the Jannissaries. His note read:
"Ensure that the local vollenteer Janissaries have access to sufficient food, as well as to such vices as you judge would satisfy their base, norm, desires without damaging their combat effectiveness. I.e., alcohol, tobacco, women and so on. You have my full authority to requisition any of those, as well as anything else you deem appropriate."
Smiling, he sent that note. The Jannissaries would soon be quite aware of just how lucky they were to have chosen to serve their new Undershi masters. Soon they would have everything they had used to have... and they would owe it all to their Undershi masters. They would see their former equalls labouring in the mud as farmers or in the mines or factories... and they would look at the wretched lives that those serfs lived, and would thank whatever sort of god they believed in for their luck to serve their masters as Jannissaries.

The phone rang. An oddity, in these days. But he supposed it was not so strange, now that the Idika Isle Republic had been formed. The southernmost isle of the League Proper, a junction between the Southern Continent, and the New Isles, both of which used, well, had used it, as a convinient refueling stop and vital link in their trade routes. Of course, those days were over.

But the Idika Republic was the most powerful of the little member-states popping up, and for good reason. Unlike the remainder of the League, those poor few arrayed in the New Isles, they did not seek to reunite what was obviously lost. No, they intended to defend their isle, if it could be called that, being the size it was, and defend it well.

They had a formal declaration of independence written, and signed by the new members of Parliament, as well as.. well, himself. President-elect Soonan Goldsmith. They would not be crippled by the League's wars, sending forces and supplies to the tiny remnant of the League, nor would they pledge their allegiance to the brutal Undershi.

The phone rang. Soonan smiled, thinking of who it might be. With power supplies as low as they were, it was unlikely any citizen would waste their ration to ring him up, when they could easily send him a message via their cell phones, or, alternatively, simply writing him a letter. The postal service on Idika still ran. He made sure of that.

The Yallakians, they had known about for some time. They had not deigned to tell their neighbours, however - Idika was under threat of domination from the League, and the Undershis alike. With their newly-formed nation, they could no doubt sign a treaty of military defense with the Yallakians - Yallak desired the Southern Continent, and the rest of the League, besides, but Idika was fairly poor in resources, having no great factories, no massive farms. It was a fairly stock-average place, and the only thing that made it notable was the stockpiles of nigh-obsolete weaponry on the isle.

The phone rang. Soonan ignored it, looking over a nearby map of the outer defenses, and smiling as the map updated itself, one of the artifacts of the northern factories, those technological items which were no longer produced to come into existence.

With artillery, concrete defenses, barbed-wire, and rifles in the hands of every citizen, they felt fairly safe. It was not a defense that would hold up to the might of either of the two empires warring over the shreds of the League, but it would be improved. Each day brought new walls, new layers of wire, and new men bearing guns, to the isle. Although poor in mineral resources, Idika's resources were fairly wide-ranging in the form of defenses and weapons.

And, to tell the truth, it was all she needed. To make herself unremarkable, an island that, in the normal run of things, could've been useful to capture, but to make herself scarcely useful - and to make any attackers pay in seas of blood to take it.

The phone rang. Soonan sighed, and picked it up. "Hello?"

"..President Soonan Goldsmith?"

"Yes. What do you want."

"This is Ionar Indurian, Acting First Councillor of the Le-"

Soonan cursed. "Ionar, I don't want to be a part of your little dream. We are not going to join the League. We are free, now, and safe. The League is dead, Ionar. Shattered underneath the jackboots of the invaders."

"I know."

The revelation shocked Soonan. Ionar knew? Then.. why did he continue? Why was he continuing the mad dream of reforming a nation that only ever existed in name, fighting, when the Yallakians would treat them fairly - he had spent the last few days gathering intelligence in provinces in Yallak, the various under-nations in that empire. Oh, he did not have the money to gain the best of spies, and discover secret military plans, but uncovering the average standard of living, and standard of political freedom had been easy. Indeed, he had simply contacted a few refugees, nothing more, nothing less.

Ionar spoke. "Soonan, there are.. ways we have of stopping the invaders. I am not asking you to join me. Nor give me any resources. Indeed, I am asking the opposite. If I were to send some stockpiles of coal, and oil to you, for.. safekeeping, would I have your word that you would return them in kind when I am able to ensure the safety of my.. realm?"

Soonan smiled. "Provided that you can send them to us without requiring our escort, that would be most welcome. I am sure I could arrange a similiar.. loan. Do you require artillery, or perhaps armor? We have quite the number of unused tanks we could ship across to you, although, admittedly, they are quite old."

A sharp intake of breath came from the other side of the phone. "Tanks?

At first, Soonan thought it was an exclamation of disgust.

"Oh, yes! A few units of armor would help us immeasurably, President! We have infantry, infantry enough to swamp the enemy ten times over, but they are poorly-armed, and we will be slaughtered. We can only defend the cities, where we are putting up makeshift defenses. It would allow us to battle on our own terms, admittedly. And artillery would give us the ability to strike at their ships.. Soonan. I have quite the amount of... uranium. No doubt you still have the nuclear power plants standing and ready to run, although they have no fuel. Should we send you what you need, could you see your way clear to sending us some anti-air guns?"

Soonan smiled. Coal, oil, and uranium. The three resources he lacked the most. Uranium would allow him to decrease the rationing of electricity to a far lesser degree, and coal and oil had numerous practical applications.

He looked at his map. There were three formerly-League factions. The League Remnant, comprised of the New Isles, who were being invaded by the vast Yallak. The Admiralty Administration, or the Fleet Administration. The name differed, from person to person, but it controlled the Southern Isles, as well as a significant portion of the former League fleet. Although it could not challenge the naval supremacy of either the Yallak or the Undershi, it had a fleet large enough to bother either of them.

And, of course, the Republic of Idika. His own faction. But he did not seek to rule, merely to survive. That reminded him. He picked up a copy of the Declaration of Nationhood and Autonomous Independence, and promptly sent it to Yallak. Perhaps they would not be so eager to attack a newly-formed nation, as opposed to a crumbling League of isles.

As it was sent, he looked at the report. They had plenty of artillery - but little petrol and ammunition. They had many, many tanks - but no trained operators. They had a vast number of military jeeps, which served as their main divisions of troops for the moment, although lightly-armed. And, of course, they had jets and bombers aplenty, although, again, few, few pilots. Those who were currently in service were training other pilots, trying to get their airforce up to strength before they had to face combat.

And, lastly, their navy was pitiful - a few destroyers and cruisers, and only four afloat. And they were expensive. But that was a matter for another day. The navy was used only to maintain trade lanes, and, for that use, it sufficed.




..in Southern City, the Janissaries were not nearly so lucky. Or, perhaps, they were. Most of them, however, were a fairly moral sort. Giving up pacifism for food had been easy - but there were few who desired women. Tobacco and alcohol, though, long-since banned in the League, were like the forbidden fruit. To forget, just for a few hours, that they were slaves, they would spend what little monies, or what rations they had drinking themselves into stupors, smoking like chimneys - they were to die, in any case, why not die happy?

But they were lucky only in the manner that they were allowed their vices. And it was these vices that kept them firmly trapped to the Undershi, alcohol ensuring loyalty far more than any sense of duty or glory from serving the new overlords did.

Illegal distilleries sprung up on the edge of the city, illegal at first, at least. The soldiers didn't touch them, for the most part. Everyone wanted a cut of the alcohol, and the profits the owners made were astronomical. In the shadow of the impending attack, people tried to ignore it as best they could. Indeed, since the invasion, the city's population had dropped a full thirty-four million. Formerly at five-hundred million, it was not devastating, but some areas were abandoned, haunted only by criminals and thugs, and off-duty soldiers looking for some 'action'.

Some had starved, some had been shot. Most had fled. Enforcing a perimetre around Southern was nigh-impossible - it was just too damn big. Most people fled to the countryside, where.. most of them died. A few made it to ships, and escaped from the League. But these were pitifully, pitifully few, telling their tales of sorrow and starvation to distant foreigners in bars, who declared angrily that the government should do something about it.

Some were captured, and worked the mines. Mine-work was vital, and, with League equipment failing left and right, manual labor was back on the table a as a viable mining option. Anyone who knew how to repair or work the machinery of the oil wells, or the mining operations, were fairly well-treated, as each of them were worth a thousand men in labor.

But they, too, were few. New cities sprung up, where villages and hamlets had existed before, around arable land, around warehouses, wherever people could find a place to run. And then there were the last. Those who fled, and returned, taking up the gun of a Janissary, for, at least they were fed. Bloody revolution was still far from the minds of most - they had been annihilated! How could they possibly throw off the shackles of servitude?! It was that attitude that prevailed; the attitude that Undershi domination merely forestalled Yallak obliteration.

And among that attitude, more Janissaries joined the army. Southern City was a hollow, dead place, despite its vast population, crumbling, and screams filled the streets. The factories churned out guns, bullets, and more guns, their copious abilities absorbed by the Undershi need for weapons.

The storm was coming. The first one had washed over them, deadly and thunderous, sapping their will. And another, greater storm brewed. And so men took up guns. More, and more. Perhaps a full half-million, now. So many that they were often not supplied with guns at first, and ammunition became all the more limited. They were not good fighters, nor were they brave ones. But it did not take much skill to aim a rifle, and a thousand brave, good men with rifles were all the same against a thousand who were bad and weak...

Even the revolutionaries had.. given it up. They no longer plotted to overthrow the Undershi, they plotted to create their own little government somewhere, to live. Jorgan, the leader of almost a thousand men, planned to lead them away, to take a boat, and to flee. They had heard of a new land. Called Idika. It was an island in the League, unremarkable, never vital, indeed, it was only a part of the League because of its military significance. Now, though, that mattered more than ever. The message he had received was fairly simple. One man in Idika had reported on the defenses. They would begin their exodus on the morrow. No doubt a warship and a thousand soldiers would be well-received by the new nation. Fighting for freedom from behind a turret was far, far easier than fighting for freedom in front of one. That was his take on the matter, in any case.

He watched another line of Janissaries pass in the street, their boots thumping on the cracked ground, their voices resounding throughout the alleyways around them. League Janissaries. They did not, for the most part, steal, or rape. But they were serving the Undershis. Who, at first, had seemed like a blessing, to him. Then a curse. And now, they were working to defend the League. No, his little revolutionary movement would leave the city.

The Janissaries marched on, shouldering their rifles, their uniforms somewhat tattered and worn. He sighed. "Goodbye, Southern City. I won't miss you.."


OOC: Here's a current map of the League. Blue indicates various League factions, (although they're not particularly affiliated), red indicates Undershi control (the areas I assumed they'd take first, mainly 'cause such areas are somewhat vital.). Green indicates Yallak control.

Map of the League (http://i18.tinypic.com/4iesyo4.jpg)

Undershi City, Undershi Province, The Undershi Empire

Aleksander Miller was angry. The more time he spent examining the reports from The League, the angrier he got. Things were not being run as effectively as they should have been. Things were failing. Four million Undershis, it seemed, were not enough to keep things working.
He sighed as he read the reports, and prepared an order, a special order, a Leader's Order that the High Command would obey.
It would prepare for deployment a full million men more, and would complete the mobilization of the Undershi reserves. One million men more... of which one quarter, 250 thousand, would be engineers, would be engineers who would be tasked with organizing the infastructure of the occupied areas, so that order could be maintained, so that the mines could be kept open, so that supply shipments could be on time. Little things like that.
They would do their jobs, and keep the Occupied Territories as functional as they could. Meanwhile, the other 750,000 men would be sent to the fighting, to expand Undershi controll to the rest of the main continent, to secure islands and oil rigs and algea plantations here and there... to prevent resistance from forming.
As he thought, Aleksander decided that it was time to make an example. An example. That new Republic, Idika... it was acting too proud. It needed to be taught a lesson. He smilled, as he thought of that. A lesson. A lesson indeed, for all the damned norms who thought they could oppose the Empire.

Over The League

A Golden Eagle heavy bomber flew high, ready to create a second sun rise over the isles.

Taskforce Komarr: Main Fleet
Air Defence

Oh the enemy had been smart, too smart. Even as their planes maneuvered into the attack against the fleet, the Imperial fighters struck. Eighty squadrons of the sleek, agile and powerful ASF-32 ‘Shadows’, now arrayed in a one hundred and twenty degree arc around the incoming Undershi, let loose some of their deadly cargo.

The sky almost looked as if the gods themselves were pulling a cover over the world as the first volley of weapons blotted the sun from the view of the people watching in the ships below. Six thousand long range AIM-155 ‘Starfire’ missiles were away. Some were directed at the enemy Lightnings and some at the Thunderers, but one thing was certain – there were less targets than missiles targeting them. Still the sheer quantity of Undershi planes warranted more defence and from the East the forty squadrons of Darkfist fighter-bombers circling the engagement turned towards the fight as the ‘Shadows’ switched to their other missiles and kept closing the distance between themselves and the enemy. Deploying counter measures and evasive maneuvers against the Undershi return fire, the Imperial pilots held firmly against the enemy, ignoring any casualties sustained – there would be time to count the losses later, but until then the knowledge that this scum had murdered valiant Yallakian pilots would fuel their efforts.

Below, floating in full readiness, the fleet’s frigates unleashed their anti-air firepower against the Undershi aircraft, adding hundreds more long range missiles into the attack.

Fleet Defence

The Bloodthirsters bridge crew watched eagerly out of the forward window as the Imperial aircraft launched into their attacks. Smoke, explosions and flares illuminating where and imperial pilot had just won his duel against an enemy or where an outnumbered ‘Shadow’ had just taken a hit, plummeting towards the ocean.

The Yallakian Supreme Commander had just gotten of the communications terminal, having ordered the ‘Darkfist’ portion of his air wing into the battle when a young Lieutenant monitoring the warships tactical display yelled out in alarm. Dagon spun around in time to see the display lagging as it tried to lock onto and track the launching of thousands of torpedoes and depict them on the display as white icons.

‘What the hell are we going to do, Sir?’ inquired the man, visibly in distress.

Why did the computer lag, that’s impossible.

’Commander?!’, cried the Lieutenant, his voice becoming more urgent.

Again he got no reply, as Dagon just stared intently at the tactical display, now smoothly operating, showing the torpedoes closing rapidly with the fleet. Although many of the enemy fighter-bombers had been downed* well before the launch and were still under constant attack from the Imperial fighters there were still nigh uncountable torpedoes. What kind of tactic is that? Well, one that’s going to work I guess?

The Lieutenant was just about to speak again when Dagon did. And it was the last thing any of the crew expected. Laughter. The bridge crew stared blankly at him. Did imminent death somehow amuse the Commander? It didn’t, it was the kind of laughter one might make when the opposition makes a move that catches them off guard but nobody had time to speculate further on the matter before the Commander began issuing orders.

‘All forward battleships to turn full starboard to the mainland and form up overlapping bow to stern with each other in a line as all hand abandon ship off the port side. Move the rest of the fleet in behind them, maintaining at least half a kilometer distance from the line.’

With the few minutes they had left the fleet performed their orders to the letter. The Four front Khorland-class Battleships made a barrier stretching the length of three of the ships while the remainder of the fleet moved in behind them. Dozens of motor boats were powering away from each ship, sitting low in the water due to being overloaded with crew while many more crewman were simply catapulting themselves off the edge of the ship.

Super-cav CIWS guns and counter measures hummed in the background as they hammered away at the incoming weapons, easily blowing hundreds out of the water because of how clustered they had become homing in on such a small number of ships. Even the destroyed torpedoes took out even more as they exploded or caused collisions between others.

And then they hit. The wall of fire that rose on the far side of the battleships created a near blinding flash within the bridge of the Bloodthirster. As it faded, the watching fleet could see the air filled with flames, smoke and flying chunks of shrapnel. More explosions rippled along the length of the ships, and the right hand battleship had its front break almost to the top, another few blasts snapping it off entirely. Several more long seconds of dread followed as the torpedoes slammed into the burning hulks of the Imperial warships, but when silence fell over the waves, the tactic had worked and the bulk of the fleet remain unscathed behind the shattered remains of the four formerly powerful battleships, which now sat listing heavily in the water, burning and bent along almost every surface where there weren't gaping holes. Behind the broken battleship a single destroyer was smoking, having taken a hit in the forward section, but damage reports revealed it was still functional.

* Sorry, I know its kind of stating your losses but it’s just to make it sound realistic.

OOC: No problem with the whole semi-losses-stating thing. Sorry I haven't been on for a while.

The enemy AA fire was... impressive. Still, the bombers and fighter-bombers were safe - they'd dropped their torpedoes from long range, fired off their missiles, then turned back for their bases. No problem there.
It was the Lightnings that were taking the worst of it, those swift, sleek , beautiful Lightnings...
They stayed behind, and loosed their AMRAAMs, and took missile fire from the enemy, as they struggled to keep the enemy fighters away from the vulnerable bombers on their return journey.
Mostly, they suceeded. Here and there, a Golden Eagle was struck by an enemy missile, was struck, a wing blasted away, to swerve and spiral as the crew perished in flames, until the burning wreak struck the sea bellow, and all ceased...
Mostly, though, it was the Lightnings who died. Bold, brave, True Undershi super-men, those who had so shocked some foreign correspondent during one of their wars that he had remarked that the Undershi were 'homicidal children, who believed in fairy tales even while they screamed, their flesh reduced to sausage meat, and struggled to hold their intestines in'... they died.
Lightnings, swift flying Undershi craft, were struck, were shattered, were made to fall, to fly no more.
Thunderers struck at the enemy from bellow with their missiles, and some were struck in turn - to burn, to fall like pigeons caught by an angry hawk, their wings torn away, then dropped...
Three hundred and eleven Lightnings. One hundred and eight Thunderers. Fourty nine Golden Eagles.
Too many dead. Still... had it been enough?
Four battleships burned. Too little. Four battleships... and how many enemy fighters? Too few. Even with a favorable kill ratio, there was no way that the Yallak could be stopped. They'd known that when they'd gone out to fight and die, but they'd done it anyways. They were Undershi.
It was a matter of population, and will to fight...
The Yallak had the advantage in the first... and the Undershi would just have to have the advantage in the second. They flew back, the surviving planes, and refueled and rearmed, and prepared to fly again. They would do what they could. They were True Undershi.

OOC: No worries, I took long enough to get my last post up for you guys anyway so I can't complain.

Encoded Imperial Transmission
Priority: Urgent
To: The High Council of Arrandin
From: Supreme Commander Dagon

I have begun my offensive against the League, however the Undershi element already here has turned hostile. We are heavily engaged with their forces, which at this time I believe vastly outnumber us. They are trying to prevent us from making ground fall. We are sustaining substantial losses against a fairly well prepared enemy.

As such, I request the full mobilization of all available forces from the Northern Fleet to be dispatched to my location immediately, plus the additional ground units for our main landings.

That should about do it. There was little the Commander could do during the battle overhead, so he had taken the time to arrange reinforcements for his beleaguered taskforce. And if the High Council acted with their usual efficiency, then he would get those forces quickly.

‘Commander,’ cried out a Lieutenant rather excitedly, ‘the Undershi are pulling back to the mainland.’ The man pointed to the tactical display before him, which did indeed show the little red aircraft representations of the enemy aircraft flying away from the fleet’s position. ‘Squadron Leaders are awaiting further orders, Sir.’

Dagon heaved a sigh of relief, looking out the window just to triple check the information. This Undershi strike had cost him more than half the battle against the Kraven fleet had in nowhere near as long a time frame. But such troubling thoughts were past him now.

‘Inform all ‘Shadow’ squadrons they are weapons free to pursue. The bombers are to continue on with their primary assignment. And get me damage assessments from all fighter wings!’

‘Already done, Sir,’ said another voice. Dagon turned to face the ships Captain, who stood before one of the side consoles on the bridge. ‘Total losses are eleven percent from the fighters, one hundred and six planes, and only seven from the ‘Darkfists’. Forward frigates are deploying to pick up downed pilots.’

‘Good. See if they can’t pick up any Undershi survivors too.’

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

Over the fleet Imperial fighter squadrons charged out after the fleeing Undershi armada, using any remaining missiles to pick off trailing groups or straggling and damage aircraft before they too turned and headed back to refuel and rearm.

Above them, and ever climbing up to the limits of their altitude capabilities, the ‘Darkfist’ fighter-bombers resumed their journey to the mainland. By the time they were over their targets the bombers would be far out of range of any ground based defenses and if luck was on their side, hidden above the scanning area of any RADAR stations. Then, then they could deliver the Empires retribution against the Undershi. It was their turn to strike back.

OOC:Any chance some of your pilots will have survived and can be fished up and interrogated?

And, of course, the Republic of Idika. His own faction. But he did not seek to rule, merely to survive. That reminded him. He picked up a copy of the Declaration of Nationhood and Autonomous Independence, and promptly sent it to Yallak. Perhaps they would not be so eager to attack a newly-formed nation, as opposed to a crumbling League of isles.

The Imperial Palace, Yallak
High Council Chambers

Two transmissions from the League had arrived within a few minutes of each other, and one of them being marked as urgent had called for the Council to assemble even at this unusual hour of the late evening. The sun had just begun setting over the Empires capital, and the spectacle cast the Council chambers in a deep orange and purple haze.

The first message, the urgent priority one, from Supreme Commander Dagon had been, despite the few looks or gasps of surprise at the situation, overly mundane and boring. The Emperor immediately validated the request and the orders were dispatched to the Imperial Fleet Marshal.

The second message though, was much more interesting, perhaps even worth interrupting a good evening for.

‘It’s a declaration of Independence, from one of the Islands of the League,’ said Caracas slowly, even as he continued skimming over all the pages that had come with it. ‘A ploy?’ he hypothesized, passing the documents along to the next person, Foreign Minister Erkal Dortrean.

‘Perhaps not,’ the man responded, shaking his head slightly, after a few moments of looking the declaration over. ‘This is rather thorough.’ The minister was quite well rehearsed in dealing with the attempted deception of foreign states despite the Empires isolation. ‘I’d say it’s more of a survival attempt on behalf of some League state government. I think we should make contact?’

‘I think we should send a fleet, that’ll get the truth out of them,’ insisted the Supreme Magistrate, Lord Sollonaal.

‘Yes, good idea,’ the minister replied sarcastically. ‘Let just blow everyone up and then we can be sure none of them are lying.’ His voice was quite icy now. ‘We need to talk to someone in the new government before we do anything else, or am I in the wrong group for a suggestion like that.’

‘Of course not Erkal,’ intervened the Emperor, cutting off Sollonaal as he made to reply, but there is merit to both suggestions.’ The other councilors merely waited for him to explain, rather than ask a daft question. ‘We send a single cruiser, maybe two, to make contact, nothing more and nothing fancy. We can gauge this ‘new nations’ responses while at the same time putting us in a position to flatten them should anything go wrong. Caracas?’

‘I’ll make the arrangements,’ said Caracas standing, leaving the others to talk amongst themselves or depart and carrying on with whatever they were doing.

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

From the bombardment of the New Islands, the cruiser Proteus and the destroyer Hakon slipped away to the North. In a few hours they would be in the Republic of Idika.

The Undershi had lost too many aircraft... but they had more. It wasn't as if they hadn't been prepared.
As the first bombers from the first wave landed, more craft took off - only fighters this time. AWACS-equipped patrols had already reported on the incoming Yallakian aerial armada, and such a force had to be opposed. Had to.

The stragglers of the returning force proved easy meat for the attacking Yallak fighters... but not all of them - Golden Eagle heavy bombers, the slowest Undershi craft, tumbled from the sky in flames, like a legion of Lucifers.
Not everything went the attacker's way, though... those Lightnings which still had missiles and fuel swerved back, and threw their remaining AMRAAMs at the oncoming foe, doing what they could to protect their massive, slow moving, brother craft from the swift and deadly assassins.
Here and there, a Lightning pilot, more daring than the norm and perhaps a bit suicidal, flew in towards the enemy and fired his aut-cannons, sending 20mm shells through the air, slashing with a line of tracers at the foe.
Mostly, those who dared to try such tactics perished, struck by missiles as they struggled to close... but even a few of the Lightnings that had already been shattered by enemy fire proved the dedication and courage of their pilots.
A few of them, as they burned and spiraled down, were turned by their pilots, towards the oncoming fleet, there to act against the enemies of the Undershi one last time.

Flight Leader Ulrich Smithson screamed as his Thunderer burned around him, screamed as he turned it towards the enemy fleet. The pain... it was almost unbearable. A hand, a hand that was his, clutched down on the firing trigger for the Thunderer's auto-cannon, sending a continuing stream of 20mm shells at the fleet as he came in towards one of their frigates.
The frigate was firing itself now, CIWS sending up a curtain of fire, tracers marking their path...
He heard the shells from the frigates CIWS as they tore through the flaming air-frame of his wreaked craft, heard the tearing noise...
He released his grip on the auto-cannon trigger finally, the pain too much to bear, and reached for the eject lever. He pulled...
Nothing happened. A shot must have torn through a bundle of wires, must have smashed a mechanical component. Crap.
As his flaming metalic pyre came in towards the frigate bellow, he began to scream, as his flight suit melted, as the gloves on his hands began to run, hot molten plastic scalding the flesh beneath...
Agony. Agony unimaginable.
Then... blessed, merciful blackness. He'd passed out. He'd passed out, disconected from the pain, and...
Another moment of agony, the realization at some level that his plane's fuel had just ignited, had just exploded.
Agony.
Then nothing.

In the Water

As the battle overhead re-intensified, Mikial Lee thrashed in the water bellow, casting off his parachute, his bulky helmet and communications set-up. He cursed as a shard of burning metal from an explosion overhead narrowly missed him, then cursed again as more and more bits began to rain down on him.
At least fourty Golden Eagles had gone down overhead in just a few seconds, plus a number of other craft. A lot of metal in the air, to suddenly fall...
He cursed continually, as he pulled the tab on his flight suit that lighted the chemical glow in his suit's rescue lights.
Two bright red glowing dots appeared on each shoulder. He cursed as they began to glow, and kept cursing as no other dots appeared in the night. It was unlikely that a pilot would survive the crash of his plane, but still... was he the only one? The only one left?
As the water, cold in the night, began to leech the warmth from him, he kept cursing, hoping as he did to attract attention... but whose? The enemies, he guessed... it looked like they still held the area.
He stopped cursing for a moment, and remembered what he'd heard about the enemy doing to downed pilots. He couldn't remember. Were they like the Hatarians, who tortured their prisoners? He didn't think so... so... what were they like? He didn't know.

OOC: Sorry about writting your actions a little when I said the CIWS on the frigate was firing, but I assumed it was a fairly likely reaction. I didn't godmod you suffering losses - the kamikazi I had as a view point got shot down.

OOC: Na, that’s fine. Nice writing by the way.

And I was realy tired when I wrote this so apologies if anything doesn't make sense.

In the Air

Carnage. There couldn’t be a more pure and simple description of what Group Captain Corollin Ialeri saw outside her cockpit. Planes dove and twisted, spewing forth cannon fire and every now and then a missile. Plumes of smoke drifted up from below, signaling the burning remains of some unfortunate aircraft and most likely its pilot too, and all over the sky explosions and gouts of flame from highlighted yet another aircraft about to go down and join them.

Even as she looked around planning the next move, her comm. crackled to life. ‘Captain Ialeri, the Darkfist’s are starting their run, make sure you keep those Undershi occupied as long as possible.’ Despite the comm. distortion being caused by the surrounding battle, Corollin could tell she spoke to the Supreme Commander himself, his voice (let alone him) was well known throughout the fleet.

She acknowledged his transmission and then switched over to the frequency used by just the Imperial fighter squadrons. ‘This is Captain Ialeri, all squadrons reform and come to heading Zero-Zero-Five. Begin search and destroy protocol.’ As she spoke, the Captain was pleased to see the several squadrons who were heading back towards the fleet, circle around and move quickly up behind the main group.

Within mere seconds, every Imperial plane was reforming and converging on the new arrivals the Undershi were launching, except the rear units which began to mop up any of the first wave who were still in the area. By now, few missiles remained, but they were quickly fired off at any available target before the main formation of ‘Shadow’ fighters dove in, their twenty five millimeter cannons creating a wall of death before them.


Far, far, far overhead and some distance ahead of the fighter battle, the Darkfist fighter-bombers disengaged their afterburners and opened their weapons bays. If only the pilots could have been lower and have the opportunity to see their revenge attack strike home. Oh well, they’d see soon enough. Stretched out over a large distance, the bomber squadrons unleashed their cargo, each of the five hundred planes dropping over six thousand pounds of explosive munitions – hundreds to thousands of large black cylinders began the decent to the targets below. Airfields, coastal defenses, anti-air emplacements and any pre-identified Undershi military bases and troop concentrations would soon be experiencing a new kind of rain.

In the Water

The frigate Larcina circled the area trying to pick up any survivors. Three pilots had so far been pulled out of the water. Two alive and one just barely, but he’d been given immediate treatment and was expected to recover given enough time. This loop however had a purpose. A sensor anomaly had been picked up nearby – a beacon, but not an Imperial one.

A few more moments and they were upon it. The beacon pulsed just off to the starboard bow. Several crewmen ran along the outer deck, manning a pair of heavy machine guns mounted on the railing, while another brought out something and attached it to the railing between the two guns.

Some scraping noises filled the night, then after a moments silence, a resounding click was followed by a bright search light beam flashing out into the water, right where the signal should be.

‘He’s Undershi!’ one of the gunners called, pulling the bolt back on his gun and aiming it at the floating man.

‘Hold your fire, Ensign,’ called another, obviously one of the crews officers. ‘Standing orders are to retrieve any enemy as well. Someone get him out of there.’

As the frigate pulled closer to the downed pilot, a shadow with a rifle moved out from behind the spotlight, pointing it at the pilot. With a muffed whoosh of air, it fired sending a speeding projectile into the man. A tranquilizer. It would only take about half a minute before the man felt the full effects of the drugs he’d just received and about the last thing he would probably remember was the large pole come prodding at him to lift him out of the water.

"President Soonan! Sir!"

"Yes, what is it?"

The man ran in, clutching a military report. He scanned it quickly, trying to make out what it said. He had served in the League military a few years back - luckily, he still understood most of the jargon.

"Yallakian cruisers..", he mumbled. "Those sons of bitches. They want to waltz in here with as many damn ships as they want, and see what we do. Fine. Get the Mary out there. We may not be able to make her combatworthy, but the Yallaks sure as hell won't know that. If we have one cruiser afloat, it's a display of power. I also want every plane on standby - and every bit of artillery we have."

"Sir?"

"John, look. If they think they can walk all over us, they'll be able to. But you have to understand that this is an isle which is quite large - and indefensible, were it not for our obsession with defense. We need to convince them that we're more trouble than we're worth, and that they'd bleed to take Idika. If they think they could conquer us without a second thought, they'd do it."

"Yessir. I see."

John, his aide, was a good man. He ran messages that no-one could be trusted with - he was also the shadow President, as the title had become known to be. The Vice-President could take the job on, should it be required - but the shadow was always at his side, helping him make decisions, and taking control, should he be incapacitated briefly.

The Deadly Mary was a cruiser that had originally been a pleasure liner - she had seen repairs from League technicians, before the government fell, and overhauls by massive teams of engineers. Of course, they'd left, most of them emigrating to greener pastures, once the government couldn't pay them any longer. So they continued the work themselves. Her armor plating was done, but, more importantly, her guns had been placed. She had aircraft ready to go - the only problem was, half of her equipment wasn't operational.

If it came to a firefight, she'd be horribly outgunned and sunk before she had a chance to use what few guns she had. But that, of course, was what the airforce was for. The Mary would serve as a show of strength - Idika had its own navy, its own airforce, and its own army - it could defend itself. That was undeniable, and, with it, its legitimacy made itself.

"Send them a message, John."

This is the [b]Deadly Mary[/i], a cruiser of the Idika fleet. We wish to know your intentions, and why you have come to Idika. Please note that we will not permit your ships within our currently-claimed national borders - there are lines of buoys to mark where those are. State your intentions, and, if you wish, send a representative across to negotiate with us.

Approaching Idikan Waters

‘Incoming transmission from the approaching vessel, Captain,’ exclaimed the Imperial cruisers communications officer from behind his workstation on the bridge. Partially obscuring the mans face from the Captain’s position on the bridge, the communications station was an array of dials, switches, screens and other interfaces.

‘Play it through the main speaker please, Lieutenant,’ responded the Captain walking around the station to stand beside his subordinate officer. Captain Taillan Carbray, like all Imperial officers wore his black uniform in spotless condition. He was a large man, not in weight but in build, one of his personal hobbies lying in unarmed combat but as he stood at an above average height his size didn’t seem too noticeable. ‘Record this and all future transmission from both us and them too.’

It took a few seconds for the orders to be carried out but then the message came through clearly and the bridge crew listened in silence. Apart from the Idikan voice, the only other sound was the periodical low level beep emitted by the radar station as its rotating scans tracked the Deadly Mary.

‘Sound general quarters, prepare firing solutions on the vessel, alert the Hakon to prepare.’ Taillan issued a string of orders immediately upon the conclusion of the message, and despite the orders, the Captain had no intentions to fire unless necessary, and the calm manner of his voice demonstrated this. ‘I want an open channel to that vessel Lieutenant,’ continued the Captain as he reached down and picked up the detachable microphone.

All crew man your battlestations. Overhead, the ships speakers repeated the battle alert. All crew man your battlestations. Taillan waited until the alert subsided before he began broadcasting to the Idikan ship.

Deadly Mary, this is Captain Taillan of the Yallakian Cruiser Proteus. We are here by order of the Imperial Government to investigate the claims of Nationhood and Autonomous Independence we received from your island yesterday. With your permission I will of course be happy to meet with your Captain on your ship for further discussions.

"Situation's not looking too good, captain. If those two fire on us.. we're going under before we even have a chance to get to the lifeboats."

"You think I don't know that?!"

Guns swivelled to face the enemy, but they were pitifully few. The main guns were not operative, and, indeed, most of them weren't installed.

"If those ships fire, we're going to need air support out here ASAP."

"If they fire, there's a squadron of naval bombers prepared to put them on the bottom of the ocean. We'll just do what we can from here. At least they aren't Undershis."

"Captain, it could be some sort of trick."

"Lieutenant, you're paid to relay my orders to the crew. Not to think. There's a reason for that. If they wanted to level Idika, all they'd have to do is launch a stream of nuclear missiles. No, they're negotiating because Yallak and the League are at war. We're not the League. If we can prove that, I suspect they'll leave us alone."

Captain Robert Smith - an unremarkable man when it came to commanding a ship - he had dreams of grand strategy, but there were enough strategists, and not enough captains, in Idika.

This is Captain Robert Smith of the Deadly Mary. Should you wish to come across in an unarmed small boat, we would be willing to let you do so. Although I am not personally equipped with the authority to negotiate for my nation, a diplomat can be here within the quarter-hour.

Very well then, Captain Smith. I will be across in fifteen minutes.

‘Prepare one of the motorboats for launch,’ demanded Taillan, returning the microphone to its receiver. ‘Commander Hadaw, the bridge is yours while I’m away, though I’ll be taking the Lieutenant here across with me,’ he continued, patting the communications officer on the shoulder.’

‘Understood, Sir,’ answered the Commander snapping a salute.

The Captain returned the gesture and then lent in close to the Commander before he spoke again. ‘I’ll make regular contact, say every half hour. But Atius, if I miss even one of those you sink their little island.’

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

Exactly fifteen minutes later, the Captain and the Lieutenant sped away from the side of the cruiser in a small boat. At the back of the boat, a third man, an Ensign from the cruiser, piloted the boat towards the Bloody Mary.

OOC: Sorry for my absence. Life caught up to me for a while.

In The Air

The Undershi fighters tried their best. It was a good effort, a commendable try... but they were overwhelmed.
Their fighters were taking off as soon as they were refueled now, the pilots high on stims and caffine and desperate as they saw wave after wave of fresh enemy craft incoming.
They would do their best - Undershi AMRAAMs tore into enemy formations regularly, or a fighter cut into the underbelly of a formation, or came at them from the sun or the clouds...
They tried. They just never had a chance to start with.

On The Ground

The bombs started falling, as SAMs started to rise in huge volleys from the mobile Hipogrif launchers and the emplaced variants as well.
The enemy was smart - come in high and avoid flak and AA machinegun fire. But the missiles could still find them...
Here and there, Lightnings joined the fighting, their 20mm cannons and missiles cutting through the night at high altitude... but mostly the planes were enemy craft.
On the ground, the bombs were falling like rain. A deluge. A flood. The Undershi endured, however... they had no other choice.
The Undershi had invested heavily in ground-based SAM sites, and now those sites came active, as automation and Janissaries and Second Line units found their targets and fought.
Undershi would do what it could. They would all do what they could.
They were not beaten yet.

In The Water

Mikial Lee allowed them to help him out of the water. He shivered in the cold, the water dripping down from his soaked-through uniform. He was exhausted. Nevertheless, he managed a quick remark:
"Alright... now, are you going to impale me, torture me... or, are you one of the really weird nations out there who'll just tell me about some Geneva Convention?"

OOC: No probs. I've been away since, say, a week, so you haven't really missed anything. Of course poor Yallak has had to sit around, but he can vent his frustration by firing missiles at hapless Janissaries. I'm a tad short of time, so this'll have to be poor, I'm sorry.

IC:

A missile. He didn't remember much more. The enemy shells flew onto the beaches, tearing men apart like ragdolls where they hit. Limbs and blood flew towards him, and yet he had no time to be sick.

Bullets and bombs, shells, missiles, all flew like rain from the sky, blotting out what little sun there was to be had. He'd always seen combat as somewhat more glorious. Man-to-man, each with his gun, each testing his skill against the other. No, it wasn't like that.

It was luck. Pure, dumb luck, that had seen him through so far. He wasn't brave. He wasn't strong. His friends had been. And now they were dead. He fired again and again, the anti-aircraft gun he manned spewing bullets into the sky.

A plane fell from the sky. He wasn't sure if it was an enemy one, or a friendly one. Friendly. Hah. Be a slave and live, or die free. It wasn't much of a choice. What was once a torso bounced past him, blood and bone spilling freely onto the ground.

He forced back the bile that was making its way into his throat, and fired. Two. He wasn't sure if it was his - or just if he'd fired in that direction at the same time the plane had fallen. He aimed, and fired again. A click met his expectant fingers.

He swore. "Ammo! Damnit, reload!"

Even shouting as he was, the battle drowned him out. The man beside him could only see his gestures, and quickly moved to reload the gun. He took up his position again, his fingers locked onto the trigger tightly, shells screaming through the sky to take out the enemy in the air.

Three. Another kill. That time, he was perhaps more sure it was his. Did it matter? Probably. Enough kills meant that he'd be fed better, perhaps given a bit of protection. If there were enough people not dying to notice. Four.

A trace of a smile graced his lips. It was as if it were a game - he shot, the planes fell. And then his thought hit him. A game? He had.. had never believed that. There were men up there - falling, and dying for this war, because one man in a palace decided that it'd look better on a map.

A plane screamed overhead. He could've hit it. Fiv-

"No".

His fingers relaxed, his hands slipping away from the controls of the gun. His face was less rigid, almost peaceful, when the bomb tore him apart.

- - - - - - - -

The Mary let down a ladder - there really wasn't any more she could do. At the same time, a plane came, moving across the horizon, preparing to land on a nearby airport. A single diplomat was aboard. He was also, incidentally, a pilot. Easing the plane onto the landing strip, he would take a helicopter from there - a jet flight was faster, but the Mary could accomodate a helicopter, and it was far easier to maneuover.

Smith walked towards the nearby motor launch.

"Hello, and welcome on the behalf of Idika. I'm Captain Robert Smith. If you'd kindly follow me to the negotiation chamber we've prepared on your behalf? I apologise, as they're fairly rude, since we had little warning for such an event."

Grand Admiral Andrew Mikialov stood grimly in the command bridge of his flag-ship, watching the tactical display. He winced as companies and Squadrons vanished, flinched as enemy bombers got through the fighters and the ground-based fire to attack Undershi positions.
Flinched as they made his men, those tall proud True Undershi heroes, vanish into death's kingdom.
A poem came to mind, as he watched the display update itself, little green and red lights telling a story of horrific human suffering. A poem... one he'd read a long time ago, when he'd been young and had believed the lies they told, the lies that too many of his fellow True Undershis believed even with their faces ground to sausage meat by the wars of the Empire, even as they died and struggled to hold their intestines in.
A poem.
A poem about heroes, and the absence of the old things that had seemed so fixed and certain... of war in the modern industrial world, so disimilar to the ancient clashes of hoplites or the stories of the heroes outside of Troy...
How did the poem go?
Ah, now he remembered...

A plain without a feature, bare and brown,
No blade of grass, no sign of neighborhood,
Nothing to eat and nowhere to sit down,
Yet, congregated on its blankness, stood
An unintelligible multitude,
A million eyes, a million boots in line,
Without expression, waiting for a sign.

Out of the air a voice without a face
Proved by statistics that some cause was just
In tones as dry and level as the place:
No one was cheered and nothing was discussed;
Column by column in a cloud of dust
They marched away enduring a belief
Whose logic brought them, somewhere else, to grief.

To grief.
He thought for a moment, about the things he'd seen during the NSAA War. A screaming enemy POW, impaled on a stake, tounge cut out, a grenade fastened to his back so that when his comrades came to pull him free and try to save him, they would pull the pin from the grenade, and they would all die...
Other things.
Such was war in the modern world.
Grand Admiral Andrew Mikialov watched the display, and watched as his army faded away under the bombardment.

Sorry, not a very good post but I said I’d give you one the other day and didn’t so I didn’t want you to be left waiting any longer.

The Southern Continent
Air Battle

‘Were taking heavy loses, Commander,’ crackled Captain Ialeri’s voice over Dagon’s communicator, ‘the enemy are still getting planes off the ground, Sir.’

‘Understood, Captain. Just keep pressure on them, take them out while their lifting off and guard the Darkfist’s, they’ll finish off those runways. Our reinforcements will be here soon, so hold as long as you can.’

‘Copy that, Commander. Ialeri out.’

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

Within minutes, the Darkfist fighter-bombers were changing their targets and although they were still ordered to demolish any anti-aircraft defenses they came across, the primary target was now any remaining active Undershi airfields. If those could be destroyed then the Empire would have garanteed air superiority over this area of the Southern continent.

Squadrons of bombers dove down through the smoke, flames and tracer rounds that pierced the sky, sending thousands of pounds of explosives hurtling towards runways, traffic control towers, hangers and any open fuel and munitions deposits.

The Undershi had the numbers advantage in the air, but the Imperial pilots would do their best to make that count for little, but they were running out of time, and fuel and ammo.

Onboard the Frigate Larcina

‘Geneva Convention?’ the Frigate officer repeated as a question, his tone as icy and cold as the water from which the Undershi pilot had just been pulled out of, ‘never heard of it.’

That of course was a lie, but the Empire wasn’t a part of any of these pitiful international treaties. The officer leant in towards the shivering pilot and continued speaking. ‘No, what happens to you will very much depend upon how you answer any questions we ask of you.’

The officers stood once again and with a dismissive wave of his hand, two of the soldiers standing near the prisoner began picking him up. ‘Transfer him to the flagship.’

Near the Idikan Waters

‘Thank you, Captain,’ Taillan responded politely, taking the last step up onto the Idikan ship. ‘I’m Captain Taillan Carbray and this is Lieutenant Baurev.

Lead the way, Captain. And don’t worry too much about the chamber, anywhere with some place to sit will satisfy my comfort needs in a diplomatic meeting.

"Ah. Welcome to my ship, then, Captain. And to you to, as well, Lieutenant."

The 'chopper was nigh overhead now, preparing to alight on the Mary.

"Shall we wait a few moments? The diplomat from my government.. Alexander Tailev, will be with us shortly. It would hardly to be polite to act without him."

Half a minute later, a short, fat man emerged, red-faced and puffing, from the helicopter. His clothes were obviously pulled on hurriedly, and his hair was mussed. Nevertheless, he managed a decent, gasped-out greeting, and nodded to the two Yallakians.

"That was.. brief."

Smith smiled, and led the way into the conference room. A table, and four chairs had been set up, as well as a whiteboard, a coffee machine, and a small array of biscuits - none of them particularly vital, but a testament to what a worried ship's quartermaster could come up with in but a few minutes.

He sat down on one of the chairs. "So, what precisely does your government want to know?"

The Southern Continent

Enemy aircraft zoomed this way and that overhead, while SAMs screamed into the air. Lightning interceptors engaged the enemy as best they could, their pilots running on drugs, caffeine and adrenaline.
To his left, a Dragon Assault Gun burned, its massive 500mm cannon twisted out of alignment, its light SAM battery a burning wreak. Abdul Whitman, corporal in the Undershi Army, whistled a tune as he lit a cigerette from a bit of burning metal, remains of what had once been the massive mobile fortress. It hadn't done well - it was like the air power advocated had said for decades - any tank larger than a standard Drake MBT would draw enemy air power like a bucket of caramel would attract flies. For some reason, he was glad only three of those monsters had been deployed on the entire Souther continent.
This one had performed well, even if its 500mm main gun never got the chance to fire in anger - it had sat in the middle of a cluster of Hipogriff AAMLRS batteries, and had just acted as a magnet for enemy aircraft. The SAMs would smash them from the sky, and more would come... it went quite well, really.
Of course, as did all things, its career had come to an end. A single missile got through its improvised CIWS, and detonated... it was dead at that point, its crew along with it. Sad. A waste. Oh well.
Abdul took a drag on his cigerette, and smilled as another volley of SAMs flashed into the air. How nice. More flaming death for the enemy norms. It was good that the Undershi had invested so heavily in ground-based AA and in fighters... it was all paying off quite well now. Yes indeed, all paying off...
As he thought that, an Undershi Lightning was hit overhead, burning brightly it spiraled down towards the earth. Flames. Death. This was war, war pure and simple... this was the Undershi element.

Yallak Fleet

Mikial Lee laughed at that, and replied:
"I've been threatened by scarier individuals than any norm alive, little human. Ask your questions - I might answer a few of them, to relieve my boredom." for all his bravado, he shook as he spoke. It was the cold, he told himself. Only the cold. Somehow, he knew he was never going to survive, never going to see the cities and towns of Undershi again.
Oh well, he thought. It was like they said in boarding bootcamp, when he was eight - dieing is easy. Living is hard. He'd try not to shame the True Undershi race, he'd try to be a good soldier... he'd try. Soldiers don't cry. He remembered the Sergeant Instructor saying that as he beat a young Mikial Lee with a shock-maul... remembered smelling burning flesh, and realizing that it was his... remembered the Maoist guerillas he'd seen impaled on rough wooden stakes around the camp where he'd been learning to fly at age twelve... they'd screamed and moaned, and had had all the dignity they might have had taken from them in the moments when they died. The soldiers had laughed, had laughed at the screams... soldiers don't cry... that was it, he realized as he stopped shaking, willed himself to stop shaking - death is nothing but a joke. True Undershis don't cry, not because they're gods, because they're not, whatever the High Command might say... but because they're so messed up that they realize that little truth - that life's a laugh and death's a joke. That's all there is to it.
Unexpectedly, he started to laugh, on the deck of the enemy ship, surrounded and captured... he started to laugh, and couldn't make himself stop for a good ten seconds. It was all just so ridiculous...

Idika

Taillan, trailed by his communications officer, entered the room behind Smith. He circled the table to one of the far side chairs and sat down, adjusting his spotless uniform back into its perfectly fitting position. As he did so, he listened to the question.

‘I think you would by now have been able to deduce why we have come,’ he responded, though he withheld any mannerisms which would make the questions asker sound like a fool for not having worked it out if that was the case. ‘We are at war with your nation, or at least it seemed that way until we received a declaration of independence for your ‘Republic’. This is of course high suspicious given the circumstances, and I have been ordered here by the Imperial High Council itself to see exactly how true this declaration is.’

The Captain gave the two men from Idika a few seconds to consider what he was saying and then continued. ‘So, what does my government wish to know? Well, foremost amongst any questions is what your Republic intends to do about the situation in the Islandic League and the war?’

Yallakian Fleet
Onboard the Battleship Bloodthirster

The Undershi’s laughter had been ignored as had his little macho speech aboard the frigate. The crew merely carried out their orders and rendering the pilot unconscious, sent him across to the taskforce’s flagship, the Bloodthirster. There were after all a dozen reasons for his outburst, perhaps more, and each crew member merely picked the one they liked best to explain his abnormal behavior, be it his time in the sub zero temperature water, a side effect of the man’s part in the battle, any number of drugs the Undershi could be pumping into their soldiers or trauma from his crash. Or fear, many a prisoner exhibited similar shows of bravado when threatened or first captured. If that was the case though, it would soon change – the Yallakians were not a vicious race, nor even a violent one, but neither were they a perfectly peaceful one and in an interrogation there were no laws to govern questioning methods and there were no limits to a Yallakians determination. If they wanted answers, then answers would be provided.

When the Undershi man awoke, he found himself in a small room, sitting unrestrained in a chair at a desk. This was the small administration room for the ships brig, and beside the desk and a pair of chairs the only other objects within were a couple of filing cabinets and a cupboard. Although guards stood outside the room, only one other person was in the room, sitting across the desk from the prisoner – an Imperial Naval Commander.

‘We’ll start with something simple,’ the Commander said, his voice was fairly deep and reflected well against his muscular build. ‘What is your name and rank?’

Hey Undershi, what about the airfields? Have most been destroyed or what?

Alexander spoke. His voice was surprisingly melodious and deep, now that he was no longer running.

"I see those as reasonable things to wish to know, captain. The Republic of Idika was formed, not entirely by general consensus, but rather to preserve Idika, who have always had a rather more... alliance-like nature with the League than the other members. We are neutral in this affair - we tolerate your ships because of your nature. You have not tortured and enslaved, burned and killed. We tolerate the Undershi because we have no choice in the matter. We tolerate the League because they are no threat to us."

He took a breath. "But I can assure you, this is no ploy on part of the League. Idika is perfectly capable of defending herself against all but nuclear attack, and that too will soon be rectified. We will not sacrifice ourselves to the deprivations of the Undershi, and nor will we submit to Yallakian rule. do not wish to offend, but rather to make that perfectly clear."

Another breath. The little man was talkative, and yet his voice was slow and clear. "This may be.. premature, as you have not yet had a chance to speak, but my government is prepared to do a deal with you. To the south of Idika, on the Southern Continent, are major steel, aluminium, and coal mines. Idika is poor - the soil is poor, we have little in the way of resources, indeed, her only asset is her defensibility. We would be prepared to allow your forces to use Idika as a staging base, provided that you could guarantee us trade from the southern mines, in order to keep our industries functioning. Any foothold on the Southern Continent you gain will inevitably be under constant danger from Undershi attack, and to repair ships and planes, you will need to return to your Empire. If we provided such a base, the liberation of the Southern Continent would be expidited."

Another, final breath. His face was turning red, and he was talking more rapidly once more. He was excitable, true. But he was fairly good-natured, and likeable, and that was one of his virtues as a diplomat.

"..of course, for that to happen.. we would require a guarantee. Should the people of Southern be liberated, we would require that a decent standard of living be maintained, and a basic set of human rights given."

He stopped, finally, overflowing with words, but willing to let the Yallakian speak. His government had only thought of that plan within the last few minutes - but even they could see the advantages of it. Undershi control on the continent was strong, and the fighting in the massive Southern City would take months - perhaps years, simply because of the limitations on urban combat. The northern League was closer to the Undershi homeland, and that would make it far harder for the Yallakians to take. If the threat in Southern could be ended decisively, the Undershis would be forced to island-hop in the Northern League, their superiority in position countered by Yallakian naval superiority.

That was their hope, in any case..

Idika

Taillan was not surprisingly shocked by the diplomat’s proposal, such an arrangement being the last thing he expected to come out of this, although it had been included as part of his orders from the High Council. Still, he hid that surprise beneath casual expression while he contemplated a response.

…if you ascertain their claims to be truthful, then make arrangements for the inclusion of this Republic into the Empire or for its use as a refueling station by Imperial forces…. His orders had been fairly clear, and even as he recalled them, Taillan wondered whether he had managed to fulfill them already. No, I’ve yet to hear enough to decide whether they are to be believed.

‘You say you are neutral in this affair but are prepared to let us use your nation to stage our war efforts?’ the Captain asked finally. Though would all too eagerly agree to the idea, seeing the benefits that would come out of it, it was best not to let them know that yet. ‘That doesn’t sound very neutral to me.’

Without pausing Taillan continued speaking, deciding to get in what he could before he let the talkative diplomat have the floor again. ‘Still, your offer has some credibility to it, but I fear from your demands that you do not truly understand the difference between the Empire and the Undershi. The Infinite Empire does not exploit or mistreat any of its people, nor does it enslave other nations to its will. All member states, joined us of their own accord, whether by invitation or request and we exhibit no direct control over those countries or their people. Such will it be with the League, eventually anyway, once order has been restored.’

A quick wave of his hand towards Lieutenant Baurev, a signal which had the officer getting out an Imperial communicator and start speaking into it making the first of the Captains regular check-ins to the Bloodthirster, and then Taillan was talking again. ‘And as for trade, that can be easily covered, perhaps more so than you may want. You see there is a condition the Empire must ask of you, to ensure totally that your independence is what you claim, and I’ll ask that you hear out the whole thing, before you make any kind of decision. Yallak requires Idika to cease all trade and communications with the League for the duration of this conflict. Should your country require supplies it cannot get elsewhere then such things can be arranged for with the Empire or any other nation. Refusal to comply with this will unfortunately mean we must consider Idika as still part of the League and hostilities will most likely proceed accordingly.’

On that note the Captain fell silent, leaving the diplomat with a tough position to deal with.

OOC: Sorry I wasn't able to post for so long.

Southern Continent

A Golden Eagle heavy bomber burned on the ground, burned where it had been struck as it loaded for another attack against the Yallak fleet. Undershi air cover was thick, and ground-based AA defenses heavy, with many carrier based craft from the Undershi fleet assiting... but the enemy was getting through none the less. They were getting through.
Abdul Whitman watched as another Yallak bomber got through, watched as its strafing tore apart a bunker packed with jet fuel, sent up a huge collumn of flame...
He shrugged, shook away the awe he had felt at the sight of so massive a blast, then began to move again. He walked across the airfield, moving out of the way as fire fighters arrived in converted Ox Hauler trucks, walked on, helmet off, smoking a cigerette and grinning. To see so much death and destruction... it was inspiring.
Who had known that mankind could do such things to itself? Of course, he reminded himself as he walked, the Undershi, the True Undershi at any rate, were not truly human. Oh well. It was worth it, he decided, as he reached the relative safety of the darkness on the other side of the airstrip - it was worth it to not be human, if it meant that he could see the things he had seen. Worth it. But maybe not. He'd never been human... how was he to know the worth of humanity?
Oh well. He had work to do. He checked the strap on his Gauss rifle, checked the power indicator, then began to move again. There would be work for the rifle before he died... that much he hoped. Two million True Undershis and a half a million Janissaries were on the Southern Continent - they would fight, they would die, and they would do what they could to ensure that the enemy would either fail and flee, or at the very least, know it had been in a fight.
As he walked on, he grinned at the sonic boom as a tiro of the new Lightningbolt interceptors flew low overhead, missiles and guns loaded, ready to bring flaming death to the enemy bombers as those same bombers strove to silence the SAMs on the ground, to bomb to useless rubble the airstrips which still sent up fighters and bombers to oppose them... to ensure a victory for their nation. A worthy goal.
He laughed, as he walked down the packed-dirt side path, towards the defensive position he had been told to join when his AA battery had taken too many hits, had been gutted and dispersed...
He would fight. He would die. No matter - Undershi would prevail. It always had before.

Interogation Room

The pilot stretched a little, then smilled, a quick smile, a grim smile, before replying:
"My name is Mikial Lee. I am a True Undershi. My rank is Pilot First Class. My serial number, although you didn't ask for it, is 246014281B2." that said, he smilled again, another grim, thin liped smile, before asking:
"Now, what else do you want to know? Is it time for the hot iron and the whips?"

Southern Continent

Like an airborne school of fish the Imperial fighter armada broke as one, turning back towards the fleet and accelerating away at maximum speed. They had been in the air for a long time and attrition had well and truly taken it’s toll. The Undershi numbers were playing their part well. Standing orders had been to remain within a few kilometers of the ocean, so they could make a quick escape, and now that that time had come, whole squadrons and tattered remains of ones, dived low over the coastline and jetted off towards their carriers. All but the last group of several Darkfist fighter-bomber squadrons that was. They, having the most armaments and fuel left would remain behind and discourage pursuit by engaging any trailing Undershi fighters, and drawing the attention of ground defenses as well. Holding not far in flight time from the coast, Imperial fleet escort ships, frigates and destroyer held ready to provide SAM defences too against any Undershi.

‘All ships report ready status, Commander,’ declared one of the Lieutenants onboard the Bloodthirsters bridge.

The Imperial Supreme Commander acknowledged the statement were a brusque wave of his hand. He had been monitoring the entire air battle over the ships tactical display and initial estimates of losses did not look pleasing to him, though he took solace from the fact that the enemy appeared to have suffered worse. ‘Initiate the attack,’ he demanded, ‘we must not allow the enemy time to breath.’

From across the fleet, thousands of cruise missiles blasted out of launchers and VLS tubes. They would continue on with the tasks the fighter groups had previously been carrying out, skimming mere inches from the waters surface until they reached the coast where they would target and maneuver to strike at defences and airfields, self-guiding themselves, but up-linked to the fleet and overhead satellites, which could take over in the event of counter measures.

Interogation Room

‘Hot iron and whips?’ the Commander repeated scornfully. ‘Such things would be pleasant compared to what I could put you through if needed. Do not be so eager to induce such measures.’ The Imperial officer returned one of his own mocking smiles to the Undershi pilot. While he would have liked to just beat the smile of the pilots face, he had orders to comply with.

‘Tell me, how many aircraft has the Undershi Empire currently have station in the Islandic League? I’m sure you would have seen first hand today the hundreds upon hundreds of your fellow pilots shot down today against just a few of our own fighter groups, but we are interested to know how many more of you there left that will be sent out to die ineffectually.’

"We are neutral in this affair insofar as it involves yourself and the League. Some weeks ago, a party of men escaped from Southern City. They told us of what had gone on there. It was once a city of nigh half a billion people - one of the largest in the world. Now - now it is perhaps half that. It is vital to fight against the Undershi. Should we fall to them, we would be butchered for our resistance."

The little man took a breath, red-faced once more.

"..ceasing communications with the League is not what we wish to do. Nor will we extend them any military help - however, the evacuation and feeding of many League citizens, is a duty. Furthermore..."

His voice trailed off, and he thought for a moment.

"No, it is best to tell you. We have spoken to what remains of the League in the south, and we have made them an offer. Or, rather, they have forced us to this offer. Evacuation for their citizens, and food to prop up the starving in many of the cities..."

He couldn't say it. And yet, aware he had already betrayed one government secret, he continued. "The leader..the man who, I believe, was the man who insulted you to the point of bringing about war, has planted nuclear munitions around the isles he occupies. He has enough to devastate the island, and your invading armies, to boot. We have offered to house six nuclear bombs in return for the supplies just mentioned. If we do not remain in communication with the League, no doubt everyone on those isles will die."

It was agonizing. It went against his diplomatic instinct - hide everything you could, and reveal your hand only when it was vital. But this was important. If they were found to be lying, about anything, anything at all now, the Yallakians would not believe them again. And if that happened...

"Should you fight against the Undershi, and defeat them.. we have no qualms with the incorporation of the Southern Continent into the Infinite Empire, nor the Northern League. However, we are not in any position to cut off negotiations with the League. At least, not until the threat of nuclear holocaust over the Southern League has passed."

When the diplomat had finished speaking, Captain Taillan remained quiet for a few moments, considering his options. His dark eyes stared intently at the little man while he did so

‘So you are refusing to abide to the communications restrictions?’ He paused again, finding the right words to use before continuing. ‘I admire your honesty given the circumstances of our discussions,’ he said finally, ‘I really do, however what happens from now on may no longer be dependant on my decision.’

‘The operational commander of our forces within the League set down the conditions I put before you, however these arrangements you have made for nuclear weapons are going to prove problematic. I am going to have to contact him in order to explain the situation, but before I do I will need you to tell me everything you know about these nuclear weapons, and anything about their location which may have been revealed to you, or which you could ascertain given the area’s in the Southern League still controlled by this man you spoke of.’

Another pause. Had he covered everything? Hopefully, mistakes at a time like this could never end well. Not for the Empire and especially not for him.

"Unfortunately, that is not so. The man sent us several nuclear weapons to prove his possession of him - and, given his ...disposition, we believe he is not bluffing. However, we understand that any cities that fall will be met with nuclear destruction of those cities. He has not informed you, as he believes that you would invade irregardless, or perhaps simply bomb the cities he possesses into oblivion. Incidentally, our nuclear weapons will likewise remain in our hands - we possess no intercontinental delivery method, however, short-range weaponry will allow us to annihilate Undershi-held ports and railways, should the war turn bitter."

A breath. "We know, however, that the nuclear weapons he speaks of are high-megaton yield, and, furthermore, we believe that he holds the Peace Vaults. We are unsure of their location - such information was destroyed upon the locking up of the last of the League's nuclear weapons, however, although the Peace Vaults contained tens of thousand of nuclear weapons, they contained no delivery systems.

He was wrong, of course, although he had no way of knowing that. The Peace Vaults were buried far away from where anyone had a hope of finding them - anyone yet, in any case. The sea was a vast and magnificent place to bury something, and the League, admittedly, had a lot of sea...

Fight to the Last.

The incoming Yallak missiles faced counter-missiles, chaff, CIWS fire and ECM... but, it was not enough. Never enough.
Always, something got through.
Flame spread across a continent, as missiles struck, as death was brought into the world...
And the dug-in Undershi defenders got an order, one from their government. Hold to the Last. Fight to the end. Do not surrender. Do not retreat unless absolutely necessary. They were Undershis. They would obey.

Meanwhile, in Undershi itself, the people prepared for a war such as they had not seen in years. Undershi would prevail. That much the propaganda they had been imersed in since birth assured them of. They merely hoped to live to see that triumph...

Interrogation

The pilot actually laughed, before responding:
"I don't know how they do things in your military, but we Undershis do not believe in letting low-level under-officers, mere pilots of individual aircraft, know the details of the dispersal of our forces in a given battle." he smilled, and added:
"Now, if you want to know what I know, then I can tell you that... how about the price of vat-grown protein loaf in Undershi City?" he smilled at that, trying to look brave...

Battlegroup off the South Coast of the New Islands
Operation Foothold
05:40 Hours, Sunday 25th March

Although periodic bombardments of the New Islands had gone on since the Imperial Fleet had first arrived off its coast, not even combined would they have matched the fury of the attack which would mark the beginning of the Empire’s invasion of the League’s islands themselves. The dead silence of the night was torn asunder by opening of the near perfectly coordinated start to the preliminary attack. Shells up to twenty-eight inches in diameter hurled out towards a sixty four kilometer stretch of coastline along the center island and largest of the group of islands which composed this part of the League, across which would be several intended landing zones for the ground forces. Joining them would be near countless cruise missiles and an immense aerial attack conducted by two dozen squadrons of ‘Darkfist’ fighter bombers, almost three hundred planes loaded to the maximum with guided bombs and incendiary weapons, like napalm and phosphorous bombs.

While it was well known, and demonstrated clearly throughout history, that such attacks would not wipe out the enemy there were two main reasons behind the bombardment. Firstly was the psychological factor, the fear it would instill upon the defenders who had probably never even been called upon to fight ever before, let alone against anything like the Empire. The second was to make sure the landing zones were clear of any would be entanglements that had been set up and to remove any defensive positions, be they permanent or recently established that would be vulnerable to such an attack.

As the Navy’s hellfire, quite literally evaporated the designated stretch of coastline, landing craft issued forward towards the landmass. The shining metal barges sliding through the array of flaming warships, disappearing momentarily as wafts of swirling dark smoke drifted across their paths. At the forefront, the transports would be bearing brigades of Yallak’s titanic ‘Bloodhowler’ battle tanks but they would be followed closely by other armoured vehicles and an entire battalion of infantry, including the Empire’s fearsome shocktroopers.

OOC: Replies to your posts coming soon, I just wanted to do this before I forgot about it for another 2-3 pages of posts again.

OOC: Alrighty, two weeks off, its that time of year when everyone gets the replies they've been waiting for...

The Imperial Flagship, the IYS Bloodthirster
Bridge

Commander Dagon gazed uneasily up towards the sky as he watched the first of the arriving Imperial aircraft traveling overhead towards its carrier. The roar of jet engines streamed across the length of the roof in the bridge as the plane past closely by to land on the nearby carrier Summoner, sitting only a dozen meters off the flagships aft. Further out in the distance, skimming along just above the height of the fleet, hundreds of other sleek, black planes followed. However this group, significantly smaller than the armada that took off not that long ago, flew in a scattered and spread out manner not in their typical disciplined fashion and many of the aircraft had bits missing, were yawing or rolling unstably or were trailing flames or smoke. This is just the start of it all too.

‘We have confirmation, Sir,’ declared one of the bridges officers, interrupting the Commanders thoughts, ‘Captain Ialeri’s plane went down as her squadron made its withdrawal. No one saw whether see managed to eject or not.’

‘Well, get some launches out their looking for her then,’ ordered Dagon rather rudely as he caught sight of the next aircraft heading in to the Summoner. A procession of bullet holes threaded their way from the starboard side of the crafts nose diagonally across through the cockpit canopy to the port side. Blood was splattered and smeared across the shattered canopy but the plane seemed to still be under control. Hopefully he makes it all the way, the last thing I need now is a carrier deck temporarily out of action because of a crash. ‘Find her body or pick her up and get her back into the air,’ the Commander persisted, ‘and don’t stop the search until you've managed to do one or the other.’

Interrogation Room

‘That won’t be necessary,’ retorted the Imperial Commander, ‘I am not hungry at the moment.’

The officer lent forward onto the table and clasped his hands together in front of him before continuing.

‘Now, let me tell you how we do things in our military. In battle, every officers knows his objectives and he knows what forces he has available to achieve that goal, but he also has a general knowledge of what other forces will be doing and what scale of Imperial forces will be in action. This allows any and every officer to co-ordinate with each other where applicable, use their own initiative in deploying their forces or even, should it be required, knowing what ground he can afford to yield or not.’

The commander shifted slightly, but narrowed his gaze at the prisoner.

‘Then again, even if this was not so, like in your military, a pilot like yourself would have taken off from a base or ship, therefore he would know how many other planes left that place. He would also have seen how many other bases or ships capable of doing the same were in the area. He would also have a general knowledge of how many forces his nation was using to invade another nation from reports or news or even propaganda efforts from any warring party.’

The large man kept talking, his eyes never leaving those of the Undershi pilot but his stare grew ever more intent like they were about to start boring into the other mans brain.

‘That is why I know that you, no matter how general, have some knowledge of how many aircraft were stationed at your base and how other bases or planes are operating in the area you took off from and how much your nation has committed to this war. So, I ask you again: How many?

He finally slackened his gaze, leaning back comfortably into his chair. ‘This is your last chance to give me something of use willingly.’

OOC: Oop, my bad. Very bad. Didn't notice the attack on the New Islands.

IC: Bravery. Tenacity. They counted for little against firepower. Armed with rifles, the occasional machine-gun, and ancient emplacements of rejigged anti-air, the defenders were annihilated. There was no other way to put it. A thousand years in the past, their steadfastness would've counted for something. Even a hundred years back, perhaps, it could've given them the edge. But not now.

Guns hammered out a deadly song, firing at aircraft that sped far more quickly than the hands of the men firing them could match, little damage inflicted - anti-air missiles would've been more useful, but they had few, and the attack had come too quickly for them to be prepared.

You would, perhaps, expect gore. Instead, the reek of burning bodies filled the air, as the terrified remainder of the defenders on the beach fled, outposts and emplacements abandoned. One had to understand, of course, that the only truly effective way to defend a group of isles was with a navy. And without a navy, one then had to defend the shores. But a defense must be strong enough to repel an attack at any point - not just stronger than the attack itself, but proportionally stronger, so that every point - every possible avenue of attack must be powerful enough to fend off the attack.

When one is outnumbered and outgunned, such a thing is harder than you would expect. That is, to say, impossible. Casualities were minimal for the enemy, or perhaps none at all. Demoralized and defeated, the defense began a massive withdrawal - all around the island, some by foot, most by trucks and hastily-armoured cars, those caught in the combat unable to escape, but the remainder hoping to reach a city - where the enemy, at least, could not bomb them with such ferocity. They hoped, of course, the enemy cared about civilian lives.

"Sir, we've faced a massive attack on the beaches. I've given the order for complete withdrawal - our main AA emplacements and artillery pieces have been taken out; we're not able to counter-attack. If we could get some of our own air out here to give us some air cover, sir, it'd be much appreciated."

"Sorry, Major-General. Apart from Omeg-. I mean, we have no air assets available."

Major-General Anders grimaced. What was Omeg? Omega? It seemed to be a likely word. And then he remembered the stories his men had been telling him, the story that they'd cracked open the Peace Vaults, and were ready to use their devastating potential on the invaders. He shuddered. He wasn't sure whether that would be preferable to occupation.

"This is Major-General Anders. I'm calling a general retreat. Take anything you can, and retreat to the nearest defensible population centre. We'll fight from there."

The radio crackled again, and acknowledgements came over it. They continually switched wavelengths, and they used older, long-wave radio transmissions; harder to block, and less likely to be noticed. It was only a matter of time, of course, before the enemy found their wavelength, and figured out what algorithms they used to switch it - but, right now, he had other things to worry about.

His car groaned with the effort of moving even more quickly, the armor plating atop it hastily bolted on, and the structural reinforcements merely making it slower, and more heavy - stronger, too, but he doubted that'd matter if an enemy bomber found him..

OOC: Bears. Umbrage. Mothers. Postmen.

Well, apparently Undershi's dead. No more nation for him. If you'd like to declare victory, Yallak, and initiate the process of absorbing the League into the Infinite Empire (assume you've won and all factions are subdued for the sake of simplicity), that'd be fine.

But if there's no reply for another fortnight or so, I might just declare that all the invaders packed up and went home. For some weird reason. Because I do want to get involved more with MT affairs, so.. yeah. If you want to do that, that's cool.

Hey, really sorry. Haven't been online really over the last couple of weeks. Didn't help that I got a new computer game so yeah hehe...

I noticed that he died. I was holding off from continuing to see if he came back but guess not. (though I was in the process of making a reply to you about the attack too).

I will start the occupation tomorrow (as I'm going out today in about half an hour). Do you mind if I take a few creative liberties etc with your people and characters. Say even capturing Acting First Councilor Ionar?

Sure, liberties are fine. Keep in mind I'll be off for a week, starting Monday, as I'm going to have to focus on my exams, but after that there'll be a lapse in work and whatnot, and I'll be able to get some stuff done.

OOC: Hey, sorry about the wait. Hope this is alright - if your not happy with anything just send me a TG.

IC:

For the most part it was over. Piece by piece, island by island the Imperial Army had forced the Undershi occupiers out of the League and instated their own control. But it had come at a terrible price. On every segment of land that the Undershi had held, no matter how small or insignificant, they had fought willingly, desperately, driven by some higher Undershi purpose no Imperial soldier knew or cared for. And in every place they had fought to defend, the ground was left charred, desolate and ruined. Corpses were strewn across defensive positions and before them, buried under collapsed buildings and around burning wreckages. Among them tanks, cars, artillery pieces and trucks were damaged and abandoned, overturned or burnt out. Even plane wreckages were a common sight; whether the aircraft itself lay shattered on the ground or it whether what was once a plane was merely denoted by a large blackened smear across the ground where the aircraft had literally been vaporized upon impact. Damages weren’t just restricted to the islands however. Ship wreckages lay washed up onshore or ground up on rocks or shoals off coastline and oil slicks or still burning fires indicated places of naval engagements.

Above the vast destruction, a trio of Yallakian aircraft flew now over Southern City, coming in low on approach to the airport. The lead craft was a small twin-engine cargo plane released from its supply duties now that the bulk of the conflict had subsided to ferry an Imperial General to a very important meeting. Flanking it were two ASF-37 ‘Slaven’ fighter planes. With mass construction of these precision aircraft for the Imperial air force beginning only just before the war started their entry into battle was late coming but almost flawlessly successful in tipping the balance of air power to the Infinite Empire.

‘What happened there?’ asked the General, Lord Caracas, sighting an anomaly in the vast expanse of city below. What he had seen was a hefty burnt out hole stretching several city blocks near the outer limits of the town.

The man who answered had been there when it happened. He, General Sammael Gûlavhar, had been at the head of the twelfth legion and even now he could still recall the memories of that late afternoon. After a key victory in the constant street fighting, the twelfth legion, which had been the spearhead of the Imperial efforts on the Southern Continent had pushed hard and been able to advance steadily through the city all day. As night began to fall they came under a massive Undershi counter attack. Perhaps that initial victory had been too convenient and successful to be anything but a trap, it made perfect sense now that he could consider the events of the day without the pressure of being shot at constantly. As soldiers on both sides died in every direction the eye could look, he ordered his radioman to call for air support. The static of gunfire, the wailing of rockets and the screams of the dying had deafened him to the conversation but apparently the Supreme Commander had considered this a battle not worth losing because the air support arrived. Continuously. They bombed the entire section of the city into ruins, then they bombed the ruins into rubble before finally bombing the rubble into a fine layer of ash. Yet these memories, the carnage, the terrible bullet wounds and the bodies and body parts flung around in the air raid hadn’t affected him as he thought they should, like it was something that was not unordinary. Maybe for him, it wasn’t anymore?

‘Heavy resistance,’ Sammael answered finally. There was no need for elaboration. What the tone of his words and the missing section of the city didn’t reveal, the eighty-four percent casualty rate suffered by the twelfth legion during the fight for the city would.

Ten minutes later and the plane was idling on the runway tarmac, the two General’s parting ways. Sammael and his decimated twelfth legion had been taken out of combat roles and put onto convoy escort and distribution of the food and medical supplies already being shipped into the major population centers. Helicopters or trucks would accommodate those places without adequate facilities for cargo planes or ships. Caracas on the other still had further to travel and boarded an awaiting APC which would take him to the newly established army headquarters just outside the city limits.

The trip didn’t take long though, with nearly the only traffic around being the odd supply trucks or other APC’s participating in the insurgent sweep – a ruthless hunt down off any remaining rebel groups within the city that had begun during Undershi control. Their brutal tactics had created an armed opposition which although had by now mostly disarmed and disbanded when it became clear to them that the Empire was a far more pleasant occupier than the former, there was still the more passionate or fanatical rebels resisting. But the Empire had fought this kind of war before and teams now scoured the city up and down, over and over, relentlessly hunting them down one by one if necessary. Complete pardons were offered to those who surrendered themselves peacefully while army raids or VX gas or other mercilessly unpleasant methods would weed the others out of hideouts, lairs or sewers.

There were no less than five security checks along the road to and at the entrance of the military headquarters, but they were passed with minimal fuss. At the center of the hastily erected defensive perimeter, a ring of wire fences, barbed wire and gun emplacements, was a single building that looked like some kind of warehouse and the APC stopped directly in front of the doors. Jumping down from the vehicle with a quick nod of acknowledgement to the driver, the General crossed the short distance to the doors and entered the building. The inside was piled to the roof with various sized supply creates containing everything from food to spare parts. Caracas was just about to return outside to question the driver on his competence when a soldier appeared from a little room beside the entrance, which he hadn’t originally noticed.

The man saluted and then indicated for Caracas to follow, ‘This way, General. He’s waiting for you.’ Although the distance they had to cross wasn’t very far, having to wind their way through all the stacks of crates made it take some time, but they eventually came to a set of stair that lead down to the warehouses basement. The soldier saluted again and left the General to go down.

The basement was quite dark at this time of day. Almost every room was locked and empty, with most of the small command staff posted here either out with their units carrying out some mission or another or upstairs dealing with the supply operation. Towards the end of the corridor one door was open, light shining out across the floor and far wall. The General walked briskly towards it and entered. Inside were three men; two Imperial officers and another who, despite his confident appearance, wasn’t. Although the two officers saluted, General Caracas returned the gesture without looking at either man – his focus was on this mystery man who sat in one of two chairs in the room, on either side of a simple desk. Although it couldn’t be seen from the way he sat and the fact that the desk hid them, his hands were bound together at the wrists.

‘Acting First Councilor, Ionar Indurian, is it?’ the General stated more than asked. He knew full well it was though. Imperial intelligence and Special Forces had spent a lot of time and resources trying to hunt this man down from the very start of the war, but more so once the nuclear weapons plot had been uncovered in Idika. Ironically however, it was the First Councilor’s own plan that lead to his capture. When it became apparent that they were no longer making progress on their own, Intelligence had recruited the Idikan Government to help. After they received their nuclear weapons in the pre-arranged exchange with Ionar, the Idikan’s sent him a gift to show their appreciation. The Empire had subtly hidden within this present a single advanced transmitter, which had been tracked across the League until it was finally given to Ionar. Mere hours after a strike team had gone in and raided the location the transmitter had ended up. Many were killed but the rest, including the Acting First Councilor, were arrested and dragged out of their hideout. The speed of the attack also resulted in the capture of many important documents intact, which allowed several of the planted nuclear devices to be located, disabled and removed. It was of course though, impossible to tell whether that was all of the nuclear weapons or not.

‘The unconditional surrender of the Islandic League,’ Caracas said offhandedly, dropping a piece of paper onto the table in front of the man, ‘sign it!’

OOC note - my computer is fixed from the asplosion it suffered, it'll be back on Saturday.

No worries...I'll still be here.

Bump

Ionar spat at the paper. "I do not think I will sign, sir. You may have imposed your will on my people, but I will not surrender. Forge my signature, if you will. Kill me, even. But surrender.. no. I would rather have let my people die than have given them to you.."

Of course, the League itself did not care for his surrender, or not. Idika remained more-or-less independent, but, for the rest of it.. Undershi occupation had done damage. Almost all of the League's resources, bar what food and fuel was needed to maintain the Undershi ocucpation, had been sent to the Undershi homeland, factories had been retooled for war, and people - so many, many people, had been killed.

The Yallakian occupation was a relief in comparison. Although the Undershi had killed many with bullet and bomb, the sheer mismanagement of the League's resources - or the well-managed funneling of them into Undershi hands and pockets, had led millions to starvation, and the entire League to economic collapse.

Blow after blow to the once economic and manufacturing giant had been delivered, and the League could no longer produce all the food it needed. Ionar smiled. The occupation would probably cost the Yallakians more than it would profit them. And, of course, the final blow was yet to be delivered.

The Idikans had betrayed him - in his his mind, this was betraying the League as a whole. And, of course, he had given them several nuclear weapons as a sign of his good faith. He could make them pay, at the last, for their betrayal.

OOC: A short, tiny update, but I've got a lot of stuff to catch up on - my computer's been out of commission for a month and a half. I'll get something better up in a few days, when the holidays begin.

(OOC: Sorry, i'm sick so this will just be a quick post)

IC:

The General smirked slightly and then turned away from Ionar. Pathetic fool. He began walking out of the room again, nodding towards the highest ranking of the two officers as he did so. ‘Call me once he’s signed it.’ The officer simply nodded in return and Caracas left.

The third man who had stood silently in the corner of the room this whole time now stepped sideways revealing a small wheeled trolley holding a sizeable metallic box on its surface. Grabbing the handle he pushed the trolley across the room to the table before moving around to the side of the device. With two swift movements he flicked on a switch and turned a small dial around as far as it would go. As the device began emitting a low pitched humming, the ranking officer moved across to join his companion picking up two cables with large metal alligator clips on their ends.

‘Now Acting First Councillor, we shall discuss the issue of this surrender further.’ He touched the two clips together causing a spray of sparks and zapping noises upon their connection with each other.