NationStates Jolt Archive

"War Is Nothing But The Continuation Of Policy With Other Means"
-Carl Von Clausewitz, from On War.

Moscow, 0930-3 Blocks from the Winter Palace

Nikolas Lvov (pronounced il-vov) was listening to the only credible Moscow Radio Station that was still on the air. There was a quick news update, saying there had been disturbances across the whole country, and that war had basically broken out in the west. Nikolas longed for the music to come back on, he would probably spend the rest of the day hearing about the problems across what used to be the RCR (Russian Communist Republic).

Like most older people in the RCR, Nikolas had grown up in the Russian Federation, when things were good. He remembered peace and relative prosperity. Then the RF had collapsed, almost overnight. He had been told the Government simply fell apart, but there were rumours that the RF had suffered a military defeat in the Pacific that had forced a coup that led to almost complete disintegration and endless infighting. The ancient enemies in the October Alliance had been the ones to blame, but the blame game was short lived. The Tyrandians moved in to Russia quickly. They were allies and so there was little resistance. Nikolas hadn't liked the situation, but not many had. He just kept his head down and kept on at the Civil Service job he had started as a young man.

He had heard more rumours during Tyrandian rule, that Pantheaa had been virtually destroyed by the Hirgizstanians, the Cottish and the Germanians, and on top of this a number of former RF provinces had been taken over by these old enemies. At the time Nikolas didn't believe it, couldn't believe it. That is, until he took his black Lada estate up north until he could see the huge border walls and barren minefields snaking away into the distance. Behind that lay Tver and Novgorod Oblast, two proud gas producing states, now in the hands of the enemy. He wondered what it was like behind the huge grey border walls.

After seeing the proof for himself Nikolas followed up a job in Pantheaa, basically a Civil Service job they needed filled by an experienced man. From there he saw the destruction wrought by the old enemies, but he also saw how cowed the people there were in Pantheaa, how the war had changed them. No longer were they proud and boastful of their nation, they were more subdued, working to put things back together. Even moreso, people had told him that in the regions that were taken over people were doing well in the belly of the enemies. He found people who had fled from the enemy forces, left their homes and their possessions, but who now cursed themselves for missing an oppurtunity to be part of something more than a rump state that was going nowhere.

Nikolas' experiences in Pantheaa had led him into politics and he was a new man when he returned to what was now Tyrandis. He had gone straight into local Government and was successful as a Deputy Mayor in Moscow for a while. But then came the re-emergence of the old Guard from the RF. With the help of the Tyrandians they had emerged as the RCR. Celebrations had gone on across Russia as the Tyrandians pulled out. Nikolas had joined the Communist Party and had been elected a Deputy in the Moscow Soviet.

But the celebrations did not last long. Trade was nearly impossible due to the fact that nearly everywhere the RCR was hemmed in by the Hirgizstanians, who had grown bigger and better since the days of the Federation. As quickly as the celebrations had ended the RCR was quickly going downhill. Nikolas found himself at the head of the Moscow Soviet, responsible for millions of people- all disgruntled and scared.

And so almost as quickly as it had re-emerged the RCR collapsed. But the Tyrandians were long gone, and the RCR was being left to fate. Moscow was the biggest target in the whole country, the place that, once taken over, could be used to get the country back on its feet. And Nikolas controlled it. But those who wanted to take it over where no better than the Hirgizstanians or the Cot's, they killed their own people and wanted only power for themselves- they had already made it clear that they would destroy Nikolas' beloved city and kill its people if he didn't aquiesce. But he knew they'd purge the place no matter what, and he couldn't let that happen. Surely there must be better options, he often thought to himself.

These men, these warlords, had already tried to kill Nikolas and the entire Soviet, which was responsible for Moscow and the Moscow Oblast alone, every Oblast was now on its own. Four deputies had been killed when the Kremlin, where they met, was blown up one evening. Nikolas had been outside, at his car, but he had been caught by debris, and still wore a big bandage on his forehead. From then on the Soviet had taken to meeting at the Winter Palace, which had a Militia garrison inside it. Army elements in Moscow had also come to Nikolas, there were around 100,000 troops in Moscow, and a few hundred now guarded the Winter Palace, with a few tanks out front just to show they could defend themselves.

Nikolas saw the tanks as he neared the Palace entrance, his heater in the Lada going full blast. He showed his ID to the Militia man at the gate, and a soldier with a dog checked the car over. A few minutes later and Nikolas was walking to his office, down an ornate corridor on the second floor.

His office was the biggest in the building, as he often had small meetings in there it needed to be. Inside the outer office his secretary handed him his schedule for the day and he went into his office and shut the door, plopping himself down on the red leather chair behind the big oak desk. He smiled. Half an hour from now he would have perhaps the most interesting interview of his life. A team from RWB (Reporters Without Borders), a Hirgizstanian News company, was in the building for an interview with him. He would certainly relish meeting the face of the enemy, although now there was a lot more enemies in his own country. He sighed, things had just become so complicated.

The Winter Palace, Moscow-1009 Hours

Nikolas was late for the interview with the RWB team, but on purpose. He wasn't going to simply rush over, psychophantically. Instead he would make them wait, while he finished up with some business. It was not good business though, twenty people had been killed in the south of the oblast during rioting about a lack of food and heating oil. So far the rioting had been confined to the southern limits of the oblast, but it had been getting progressively worse, now that twenty people had died, it would get very bad, very quickly.

Nikolas decided to have the Militia men who fired into the crowd arrested, perhaps that would appease some of the hotter heads in the area. But he feared it would not.

He was still mulling his decision over as he went up to the third floor of the Palace, passing a couple of deputies on the way. They all looked tired and strained, just like Nikolas himself. He walked to the end of the huge third floor hallway, where there was a big conference room. The door was open and he knocked gently as he walked inside, but he was greeted with a strange sight.

There was a film crew in the room, with three cameras, mics, computers and all sorts of other electronic gear that lay sprawled across the shiny conference table. But there was something glaring at him, something that looked completely out of place- the crew. There were seven of them in total, the three camera men were big, muscled men with buzz cuts. Then there were two women, athletic and lithe, not soft like regular reporters. And finally the mic operator and a man sitting at a computer, both were skinny, but hawk eyed and sharp.

They all saw Nikolas enter the room and do a double take when he saw them all. They were used to it, and one of the women stood up and came closer to him. "Mr. Lvov, good to see you. You speak English?" Nikolas nodded, he had forgot he wasn't going to let on that he spoke their langauge. "Your puzzlement is quite natural, we at RWB are used to it. Most of us are ex military or police and we have to be tough, we go where no other news reporters would. I'm Anna Krezsetzia, and I'll be interviewing you today. Have you any questions?"

Nikolas regained his composure as the tough looking woman in front of him spoke. He recognised her name as Russian. "You are from Russia?" He spoke in a low, slow voice. Anna simply nodded her head and said, "From Yamalia, and two of our camera men are also from Hirgizstanian Russia." Nikolas nearly winced at that name.

Anna led him to a seat and she sat down opposite him. A camera was pointed in her face and his face, and the third camera sat on one of the men's shoulders, ready to roam and capture different angles. Nikolas desperately wanted to call Anna and the two camera men traitors, but he was better than that, he would simply let them know in the interview that he despised Hirgizstanians.

The whole interview was about him and about Moscow, and what his plans where. He thought he would never get his chance, but towards the end of the half hour Anna threw in a question he was hoping for- "Who, in your opinion, is to blame for the collapse of the RCR." Nikolas licked his lips, literally at the question and he sat up straighter. He said, "You are, you Hirgizstanians are to blame. You squeezed us until our leaders simply had to give up, we could not trade or even fly out of the country. We were stuck because of your evil imperialist ways. You wished to destroy us, and you have nearly succeeded. But I won't let you destroy Moscow, you have my word on that." Nikolas stopped and smiled. There were a few more questions about the riots the previous night and then the interview ended.

Anna tried to shake his hand but he refused. She didn't seem bothered. She went about putting away her notes and putting her lap-top into a bag, and the rest of the crew were also packing up, except the hawk eyed man at the far end of the table. Anna turned to Nikolas, who was just about to get up. "Sir, I was wondering if you would be so kind as to give a moment of your time to Abdul, he is an internet writer for RWB, and he is preparing a short piece on the Moscow Soviet, he would be most grateful for your time." Nikolas looked at his watch. He had ten minutes to kill and he nodded. Abdul nodded at him from across the room. The rest of the crew continued to pack up.

It took a few minutes but the crew worked fast, they left the lights and some equipment in the room, they were scheduled to interview a few Deputies later in the day. Anna turned to Nikolas, "The rest of us have to leave, we have a story to cover in the south, but Abdul will stay here. " Nikolas replied, "You know you'll be operating illegally if you leave this building, your passes don't permit travel." Anna simply replied, "We're RWB, Mr. Lvov." Nikolas didn't really understand but he couldn't really arrest them, that would be bad all round.

A few minutes later and he was left in the room with Abdul who was silent for a time. He eventually stood up and lit a cigarrette, offering the pack to Nikolas who declined. His first words were, "Did the bouquet of flowers get you anywhere with Ms. Karennia in Kursk in September?" For a second Nikolas thought he had mis-heard, but then he gained instant clarity...Heather...how did they know about her and the bouquet...and the fact he visited her in September. Nikolas was angry, but also deeply puzzled, "What the fuck is this?" Abdul exhaled a cloud of smoke and calmly replied, "Its a question Mr. Lvov." Nikolas got up to leave and went over to the large oak doors, Abdul didn't move, just followed him with his eyes.

Nikolas tried to the doors, they were locked. He turned around, still angry. He was about to speak but Abdul cut him off. "Have you ever heard of the NIA, Mr. Lvov?"

The Winter Palace, Moscow-1055 Hours

Nikolas was stunned for a second. He knew what the NIA (National Intelligence Agency) was, everyone in the former RCR knew what it was. There were horror stories told everywhere about the Hirgizstanian spies that tortured children for fun and raped women in custody. Tales of their atrocities were well known.

Despite his stupefaction, Nikolas still didn't understand something. This guy was a reporter, from RWB-so why was he talking about the NIA and how the hell did he even know about Heather and his trip to Pantheaa a month ago? Abdul was silent, he betrayed no emotion, he didn't even look like he wanted an answer, he just stood near the door, watching Nikolas in his seat, struggling with his thoughts.

Finally Nikolas garnered enough incredulity to speak, "But your a reporter damm it, what is all this shit about the NIA? I demand to see the rest of the crew." Nikolas caught Abdul smirking slightly as he returned to his seat behind the laptop. He spoke evenly, without emotion, "The RWB is a news company, but its also a vessel, if you will, for inserting certain people from certain organizations into certain countries." Nikolas nodded slightly, he understood now. But he still didn't understand what this asshole wanted. "What the hell are you doing here though, and what the fuck do you want with me?"

Abdul seemed to ignore Nikolas, he stubbed out his cigarette and typed on his laptop for a second. Then he looked at Nikolas. "Tell me about you and Ms. Karennia." Nikolas looked puzzled but there was no real harm, he supposed, in telling them what they may already know. Besides he was proud of what he had down for Heather, and was pleased that it had led to a relationship, albeit a long distance one.

So Nikolas told Abdul how they had met in Kursk a few days after he had taken up a civil service post there. She was a refugee from the south, looking for a home, who was assigned to him. She had fled from Penza after her family was murdered by Hirgizstanian soldiers. Nikolas relished telling Abdul about the murders, but he still betrayed no emotion. At the time she was desperate and since no housing was avaliable, Nikolas took her into his flat and she stayed for a few weeks, fascinating and scaring him with horror stories of the Hirgizstanian occupation. She even plucked up the courage to tell him an Officer had raped her, but she had escaped after stealing his gun from his clothes, shooting him and making a run for the Tambov border. Once she got her own flat he visited her all the time, she was a political activist-a natural- and soon Nikolas was becoming political himself. So when he returned to Moscow he himself went into politics, and his relationship with Heather continued.

As Nikolas stopped speaking Abdul only nodded. His first question was, "Would you like some water?" Nikolas nodded and Abdul went over to a small fridge in the corner of the room, and took out a bottle of water, throwing it to Nikolas. He sat down in front of the laptop again and then said, "What if I told you, and showed you, that Ms. Karennia is a liar, and a wanted terrorist?" Nikolas nearly choked on the water in his mouth. He spilt some down his chest and coughed, spitting water everywhere. He then spoke, his voice gravelly after nearly choking, "What the fuck are you talking about, you bloody pig!" Abdul sighed slightly and then turned the laptop around. Abdul tapped a button and a video began playing. It was color, only slightly grey-toned. The picture showed a road, there was a small cafe on one side and the road was blocked by a big military truck and a few concrete barriers. Soldiers stood in front of openings in the barriers, and lines of people extended down the road. Another camera image was set into the frame of the larger image, showing the faces of the people waiting in line. And there behind one old woman was Heather, looking gaunt and tired.
Nikolas spotted her in the larger camera picture. The old woman was waved through the checkpoint and Heather's face and shoulders filled the small screen. Then both screens shook and darkened and when the picture brightened and the camera stopped shaking the cafe was a smoking ruin, and the people queing up at the checkpoint lay on the ground, cowering, injured or simply stunned. The smaller image was empty, but Nikolas could see the soldier Heather had been standing in front of, he was lying on the ground. Then the video stopped.

Abdul turned the laptop back around. "Ms. Karennia exited the cafe before joining the queue to get into the city, the cafe was filled with innocent Pantheaans and Hirgizstanian soldiers. She placed a device under a table and left, she detonated it and then killed the soldier who was checking her credentials with a small calibre pistol stowed in her handbag. She killed twelve Hirgizstanian soliders and sixteen Pantheaans, including two teenagers." Nikolas was completely dumbfounded. On the one hand he wanted to spit in Abdul's face and call him a liar, on the other he wanted to applaud Heather's actions, but he simply couldn't bring himself to do it. Nikolas was not a murderer, no matter what. He was really a man of peace, and he thought Heather was too, if a little fiery. But he had seen the proof of her actions himself.

Nikolas was silent for a long time, he was saddened and angry and confused all at once, his emotions were running all over him. He managed to speak, slowly and in a low voice, "But what do you want from me?"

Abdul looked as if he expected the question. "Mr. Lvov, I have a couple of pictures to show you. They are nothing to do with Ms. Karennia, but I think you will find them interesting. They are two pictures of the town of Yamalia, the capital of that state, or Okrug as you call it. The first picture shows what it was like before we took over, as you remember it. The second was taken a month ago." Nikolas turned to look at the laptop as Abdul turned it toward him. The photo filled the page. It was from a high vantage point over the city which looked squat, grey and depressing. Smoke stacks billowed and mist stayed low over the city. It was a dirty industry city, thats how Nikolas remembered it. Then Abdul clicked a button and the picture changed. It was the same vantage point, but the city was completely different. There were skyscrapers everywhere and high-tech factories off in the distance, relfecting the weak suns rays. But it was probably fake, it had to be? "Its fake, isn't it?"

Abdul again looked like he expected the question. "I assure you it is not. Since we took over it has become an energy hub and is the starting point for the world's biggest gas pipeline that brought billions in investment and has made the population extremely wealthy."

Nikolas sighed, rubbing his forehead, "But still, what the hell do you want with me?"

Abdul didn't miss a beat, "We want you and we want Moscow."

The Winter Palace, Moscow- 1115 Hours

Nikolas laughed slightly, more at the absurdity of the statement Abdul made. But he cut himself short on seeing that Abdul was dead serious. "You're joking...surely...," Nikolas sputtered.

Abdul sat down again and replied, "I assure you Mr. Lvov I am serious, as a heart-attack." Nikolas looked pained, still trying to grasp what Abdul had said-why or how did they want Moscow? It was unconceivable, surely? Nikolas looked at the window behind him, the weak fall sun was just getting through the clouds. He could see the Kremlin in the distance. "No, you cannot have Moscow," Nikolas replied, almost sighing as he did so.

Abdul simply nodded. Again it looked like he expected Nikolas' reply. He tapped away on his computer for a minute or so, as Nikolas sipped at the cold bottle of water. Then Abdul said, "Do you know a General Kuznetsin?" Of course Nikolas knew Kuznetsin, everybody in Russia did. He was a big, flamboyant tank General, a national hero of sorts. He nodded at Abdul who spoke, "Well he has three thousand tanks headed this way, I'm watching them via sattellite. They'll at the border to the Oblast by midnight." Abdul said it matter-of-factly, without emotion or emphasis.

Nikolas was puzzled for a second, wondering why three thousand tanks were headed this way, but it took a split second for it to click and for him to connect the dots, as it were. He immediately remembered that the 100,000 troops in Moscow had less than three hundred tanks between them, and there was no chance of getting any more supplies or vehicles. Nikolas' was dumbfounded. He knew Kuznetsin, at one point they had been freinds. Perhaps we was simply coming to re-inforce Nikolas, "Well...what does he want, why are his tanks coming here?" Without looking up from the computer Abdul tapped a key and a recording began to play.

There were two voices, one gruff and old-Kuznetsin-Nikolas recognised it immediately, and another, softer voice. Kuznetsin was holding the floor-"That fool Nikolas, he will think I am coming to help him." There was laughter, then Kuznetsin continued, "He's a stupid desk jockey, a civil servant pencil pusher with less sense than a Hirgizstanian on vodka. We'll take Moscow from right under his nose, and if he resists we'll kill him and destroy half the city if we need to." Abdul tapped another key and the recording stopped. Nikolas slumped in his chair, a look of absolute defeat on his face.

Abdul took that as a cue to speak, "Mr. Lvov, we Hirgizstanians are not the barbarians you make us out to be. Your own countrymen in various places have embraced us, and are now Hirgizstanians themselves. They have prospered and improved their lives beyond measure. Right now you have about twenty four hours before Kuznetsin kills you or you have to flee. Moscow will be at his mercy, and both you and I know he has little of that."

Nikolas nodded and then caught himself doing it, he said testily, "But what do you want with Moscow and what do you want with me?"

Abdul nodded and continued, "We don't want one of the world's great cities to fall into enemy hands. Not to mention the fact that the RCR's only nuclear weapons are in this Oblast, and we can't let Kuznetsin get a hold of them. As for you, you'd become Governor of the State of Moscow for two provisional years, and then its up to the people."

Nikolas again looked out the window. It was hard for him to take everything in. He must get down to the military base in the basement, where there was an auxilliary situation room. But first he had to let this slimy Hirgizstanian know that there was no chance Nikolas would give up Moscow, he would take his chances with Kuznetsin. He turned to look at Abdul who was standing now, off to his right front. "No, I will not give in to the enemy. I would rather take my chances with Kuznetsin than sell my country and my city to you." Abdul betrayed no emotion, he simply walked toward the doors and unlocked them with a key, opening them and saying to Nikolas, "I'm sorry we couldn't come to an agreement. I hope we meet again before our team leaves." Abdul stuck out his hand, but Nikolas ignored it and simply walked out of the room.

Abdul closed the doors and locked them. He took out a secure sattellite phone and hit a speed dial button. An operator prompted him for a security code and he gave it, before being connected to someone way above his pay grade in Cape Verde. He reported he had failed with the initial operation, but was ready to begin another. He got the green light and terminated the call.

Then he punched in another number from memory. It was a military number, for an Air Force base in Astrakhan. A freind of his, Ivanov Metsek was the base Commander. After two rings Metsek picked up, "General Metsek, Astrakhan AFB." Abdul smiled and spoke, "Ivan, this is Abdul. I need a favour." The other end of the line crackled as Metsek howled with laughter. Then he spoke, "So what happend this time? You need rescued again or are you just late for a date with that fine Benghazi stunner?" Now Abdul laughed, Metsek had remembered that the last time they met in Benghazi he had introduced Abdul to a stunning model, and since then Abdul had been late for every date. "Thats funny Ivan, you just wait...she wants me. But seriously, a big favour. You got any old MIG's lying around?" There was silence on Metsek's end for a split second, "Sure, we got about ten down here. The flyers use them as Aggressors to train. What type you looking for?" Abdul thought hard, trying to remember the various types of MIGs and their roles, "The 23...any 23's?" Abdul heard Metsek tap a few keys and then replied, "Sure, we got five Floggers." Abdul breathed a sigh of relief. "I will contact you via secure transmission with the details of what I need and my clearance codes, I need some ordnance dropped on the Kremlin." Metsek breathed in sharply, "Wow, thats a target in a half. This would make one great story, but I doubt I'll ever hear it." Abdul said, "Too right Ivan. I'll send the transmission, wait for it. Will call you later to confirm." Abdul ended the call and got to work on his laptop, getting the information ready about the target and what weapons he wanted used, and most importantly when he wanted the operation carried off.

The Winter Palace, 1205 Hours

Abdul had not been bluffing. Nikolas sat and saw the proof for himself. The small but high-tech situation room in a sub basement of the Palace was displaying a live sattelite feed from the western edge of Yaroslavl Oblast. It was in a blue colour, and there were faint blue and yellow squares moving slowly across the screen-tanks-thousands of them.

For a while Nikolas was speechless. The few soldiers that staffed the room also looked worried, that was not a good sign, nor was it good for Nikolas' nerves. He couldn't defend the city if those tanks arrived. But maybe he could do something...anything.

He asked a soldier sitting behind a console, "Are you recording this feed?" He nodded at Nikolas, who stood up and dissappeared into the Watch Officer's room just behind him. He dialled a number from memory and after a few rings a polite female voice answered, "Moscow Satellite News, How can I help you?" Nikolas asked for Mr. Krey Karpov, and the woman asked him to wait until she connected them. After a few more rings a gruff male voice answered, "Krey Karpov" Nikolas breathed a sigh of relief and then said, "Krey, its Nick. I have something for you." Krey sighed audibly before replying in a fed-up tone, "I have no more interest in whatever legislative crap your doing in your hidey hole-" Nikolas cut him short, "Listen Krey, Kuznetsin is sending three thousand tanks this way. He wants Moscow, and whats more I have the proof he's coming." There was a silence on the line then Krey exhaled, "Fuck...thats a...Get me the proof, I'll get it on air A-SAP. Can you do anything about this, I mean what do we tell people?" Nikolas had expected those questions, "I have one hundred thousand soldiers of questionable loyalty and three hundred tanks with barely any fuel and a little ammo. I have no working planes and no fuel to fly even if I did have planes. I'll do what I have to, but it won't be much if Kuznetsin is serious." Krey exhaled sharply again, "Ok...so send me the tape...and keep in touch." Nikolas said, "Will do, and hung up.

He went over to a bank of consoles and electric equipment and asked a soldier sitting near them to get him the video of the satellite feed and then keep recording.

At the entrance to the Palace Nikolas handed the tape to his aide, a trusted young man who happend to have a good condition Ural Moto motorbike that could get him to the news station in a flash. Nikolas could only hope the people in the city wouldn't rampage, but if he did nothing he was condemning many to death by not preparing them. He found himself wondering what Abdul was thinking about all this.

The Winter Palace, 1545 Hours

Nikolas had gone back to his office for a while, and had watched the news report about the tanks. The city was in uproar, and in some areas people were desperately trying to flee the city. But others stayed, some didn't want to abandone their homes or their hope.

At exactly 3.42pm he received an urgent phone call from the Watch Officer in the situation room. He sounded worried and was speaking fast, "Sir, we just picked up five Migs over the west of the Oblast, moving low and fast towards the capitail. ETA on them is ten minutes. They are falling in and out of contact and will not respond." Nikolas cursed, Kuznetsin...that bastard.
"Major, do we have anything that'll shoot them down?" The Major sighed and was silent for a second longer, "Maybe...I didn't want to have to tell you this but the news report prompted a mass desertion from our forces this afternoon. I might be able to get some Igla (Russian MANPADS) Launchers onto some rooftops, but I can't promise anything. As well as that they are Migs and the IFF technology might not even let us fire them. I suggest you evac everyone to the bomb shelter immediately."
Nikolas thumped his desk, "Thank you, Major."

On the wall inside his office there was a small button with the stencil of a B-52 bomber above it. He got up and moved across the room, pressing the button. A split second later a siren sounded throughout the building and doors began opening all over the place and people began moving quickly toward the emergency stairs down to the bomb shelter.

Nikolas got his secretary up and moving and went up the stairs instead of down, arriving at the second floor conference room, just as Abdul had opened the doors to look out. Nikolas nodded at him as people pushed past, "Bomb Shelter, there are Migs on the way." Abdul nodded and dissappeared, re-appearing a second later with a briefcase. He followed Nikolas and the other people down into the huge shelter in the basement. There were a few rooms down there, but everyone stayed in the biggest one, sitting on the chairs provided and talking to each other about why they were down there. Abdul knew, of course. He wondered whether his plan to scare Nikolas into acquiescence would work or not.

Around ten minutes later the building rumbled and reverberated with explosions for a few minutes and people were silent, some crying, some praying and some hyperventalating.

Around ten minutes after the explosons and tremors had long since subsided an 'All Clear' alarm sounded. Everyone began to shuffle out of the room again, and Abdul was headed back up to the conference room. Nikolas dissappeared into the crowd, probably heading outside with a crowd of other people. Abdul decided to follow, for appearances sake.

But he was caught by Nikolas, obviously on his way back into the building, he shouted something about the Kremlin and gestured for Abdul to follow. The two men double-timed it up to the second floor conference room, the News Team's equipment still strewn everywhere. Abdul wondered whether they caught any of the bombings on tape.

As soon as they entered the room they could see the smoke rising from the Kremlin buildings. It looked like a fair amount of ordnance had been dropped on it. Nikolas got to a phone on the big table and dialled an extension, "Major...whats happening?"
The Major came back on the line, sounding half-excited and half scared, "They hit the Kremlin, lots of damage, fires raging. No Migs were downed, I couldn't get through to the Kremlin Commander, nobody knows where he is."
Nikolas sighed, said thanks and put the phone down. He stood up, looking strained. Abdul was still staring at the rising smoke in the big window. He spoke, with concern in his voice, "If he's willing to do that, what will he do when his tanks get here?"

Nikolas was angry for a second, he half-shouted at Abdul, "You didn't tell me he had any dam planes!" Abdul turned away from the window to face him. "Frankly we didn't think he could get them off the ground, we knew he had a few, but our sources said there was no ordnance and only a little fuel. Obviosuly, we were wrong." Nikolas now looked resigned. "What the hell am I going to do? This is unbeleviable. That old communist bastard..."

Abdul looked genuinely surprised at Nikolas' last comment, "I thought you were a communist, you joined the party some time ago?" Nikolas laughed, it was strained and forced, "Fat chance, I only joined the dam party so I could get into politics. Fat lot of good that did me. This is hopeless...I can't stop this guy."

Abdul walked over to the table and sat down in one of the chairs, "We could stop him, but then again why would we want to. You already made your position clear. Of course that means many people are going to die, but hey you can hold onto your prejudices when Kuznetsin locks you up or kills you." Nikolas looked up, not angry, just tired looking, "What are you...but I can't, your our enemy, you'd be worse than Kuznetsin..."
Abdul again looked like he expected what Nikolas had said, "There you go again, your prejudices...your propaganda. We wouldn't kill innocent people so we can claim this capital for ourselves, we want to protect the people here. But we can only do that if its a part of our country." Nikolas sighed and stood up. "I need a drink." He walked out of the conference room, the smoking Kremlin still visible in the windows.

Moscow, 1820 Hours

Nikolas had decided to stay in the Winter Palace, he was going to use one of the guest rooms on the top floor. He wanted to be near the action, he was needed in the Palace. But he had no clothes or toiletries, so at 6pm he'd walked outside and had a soldier check his car for any signs of tampering, as he had started doing recently.

The soldier with the dog gave him the all clear and a few minutes later he was winding his way through the quiet, almost deserted city. Shops were closed and people were avoiding the streets. The odd fire engine or police car zipped past his black Lada, some going towards the fires still raging at the Kremlin, or to new fires started by rioters or looters. Nikolas kept checking the doors in the car were locked and that the small Makarov pistol was in his great coat pocket.

His flat was a couple of miles from the Palace, but he changed his route every day just in case, and it usually took him fifteen or twenty minutes to get there. Instead of using the dark underground car-park that had his designated space, he had taken to using a parking bay across the street that was lit up by street lights and visible from his apartment. He parked the small car up and didn't bother setting the meter, he wouldn't be long.

He said hello to the old porter at the reception desk and checked his still empty mail box before riding the elevator up to the fifth floor. His apartment, 5C, was on a corner of the building, it was a fairly sizeable place with nice views and nice furniture that was supplied when he moved in. Once inside the apartment he flicked on the lights and closed the door, putting on the bolt locks he'd had installed recently. He checked the Makarov again before walking over to the bedroom to sort out clothes.

Had he looked out into the street he'd have seen another government black Lada turn up and park behind his. Abdul sat behind the wheel. He slowly got out and stood leaning against the passenger side door, looking up at the now lit-up apartment that Nikolas was moving about in.

Up in the apartment itself Nikolas was throwing clothes from the closet in the wall onto the bed, next to a leather travel bag. He threw a pair of military-issue boots he'd bought years ago, they'd be useful if it got any colder as they were fur lined. He turned around and began to pack up the bag. Once done he did a mental check in his head of the clothes he'd taken and turned around to head into the en-suite bathroom. He opened the door...something moved. Nikolas ducked out of the doorway and there was a slightly audible whump and then the window behind him shattered. He knew the whump sound, it was a silencer. He touched the Makarov in his pocket, but a black clad figure wearing a balaclava burst out of the darkened bathroom and was turning the gun toward Nikolas when he jumped at the figure.

Nikolas knocked him over, the gun went skittering across the floor and Nikolas began punching and kicking the writhing figure beneath him. He used his right hand to get the pistol from his coat pocket, but no sooner did he have it in his hand than the figure beneath him punched it away, and it went flying behind them. Nikolas was flailing for all he was worth, but the figure beneath him was stronger and more agile. He felt a leg come up and it kicked out, hitting him in the balls. He groaned in pain and tried to keep the figure pinned, but it still flailed about, another kick to the groin. Nikolas nearly blacked out in pain and then a punch to the side of the head and then another and another, the last sent him sprawling onto the ground beside the bed. Then the figure was up in a flash and Nikolas tried desperately to use the bed to get himself righted.

As he managed to get up on his knees he half turned and saw his own Makarov pointed at him by the heavy breathing black clad figure. There was a loud shot and Nikolas flinched. Then there was nothing, just a thump near him. Was he dead? Was that the sound of his dead body falling over? He opened one eye and simply saw the black clad figure lying on the ground, a smoking hole in the middle of his face, his Makarov still in the figure's hand. He slowly turned his head the other way and there was Abdul, standing in the bedroom doorway holding a still smoking pistol. Nikolas managed a half smile before blacking out from the pain in his groin and head, not to mention the shock of the whole thing he'd just been through.

He eventually came to, lying prone on a bed in a guest room of the winter palace. He started, jumping up, breathing heavy. The throbbing pain in his head told him he shouldn't have moved so quickly and he winced at the pain, touching his head, there was a bandage around it. His groin still felt sore, a dull pain shooting up into his stomach. There was a bottle of water and some aspirin by the bed, he gulped the water and downed the pills. He then went over to the bathroom and saw the bruised and broken face that greeted him in the mirror. He had been bandaged up and washed up by the looks of things. He walked back out of the bathroom, the leather bag he'd packed was sitting at the foot of the bed. Then everything came flooding back at once...the gunshot...the figure...Abdul?

He exited the room as fast as he could, his head throbbing with the pain. He wished the aspirin would hurry up and kick in as he descended the marble stairs to the second floor. He burst in through the double doors and there was Abdul, tapping away at a computer screen. He looked startled, but pleased to see Nikolas standing in the doorway, gulping in air and screwing up his eyes to try and deal with the pain in his head. Abdul's face then changed back to its normal, non-expressive self, "You shouldn't be up, you got one hell of a concussion." Nikolas waved his hand dismissively, "What the fuck happend, that guy was on the floor and you were in my apartment holding a gun...then I'm here. Explain...now."

Abdul motioned for Nikolas to take a seat, which he did, the pain in his head subsiding slightly as he settled into the chair. "This city is dangerous right now, some people want your head, so I followed you. Like it or not your a valuable politician whether you want to join the Commonwealth or not. I saw glass shatter from your apartment and I got up there as quick as I could. Took me a minute to kick your door in, those damm bolts of yours. The figure, he was about to kill you."
Nikolas remembered the struggle, "Who was he? Any idea?" Abdul looked knowingly at Nikolas, "We have more than an idea, he was wearing dog tags, turns out he's one of Kuznetsin's boys. Was a Spetsnaz trooper in the RCR, last known post before the collapse was at Kuznetsin's base out west. And before you ask, it was your staff who helped me get the ID from the tags, it took a while. They were shocked, but they seem genuinely happy your okay."

Nikolas let things sink in for a second. So much had already happend this day, and now this. Things were rapidly becoming complicated and downright dangerous. That was the second time someone had tried to kill him in as many weeks. Kuznetsin both times he assumed. "I guess I owe you a thank you...if you hadn't...you know..." Abdul just nodded, and then added, "Go back to your room. Get some rest, take some aspirin. The nurse checks on your every so often so don't worry about the concussion. Your people are keeping an eye on things. They know where you are if they need you."

Nikolas nodded and got up, he was shaking a little, the pain was as strong as ever in his head as he trudged up the stairs back to his room. He downed some more aspirin and water before collapsing down on the bed, dog-tired all of a sudden.

The Winter Palace, 0510 Hours

Nikolas had been asleep for the better part of the evening and all the night. He had woken only once to take a leak, and had nearly collapsed from the pain. He downed some more aspirin and went back to sleep. The next time he woke was at five in the morning, some noise outside his room roused him and when he went to look he saw the catering staff had left a tray with some breakfast. He took it inside.

He set the tray on the bed and went into the bathroom. He splashed water on his face to wake himself up. He removed the bandage from his head to reveal a huge ugly black and yellowing bruise in his left temple. He touched it and winced.

After having a quick shower he changed into a fresh pair of slacks and a shirt before drawing the curtains to reveal a still dark city. The foreboding was almost overwhelming. He closed the curtains again and sat down on the bed. The food on the tray as a few slices of black bread, some jam and butter and some cereal and milk. He wolfed it down hungrily, but he had to chew slowly because every time he did the pain in his temple pulsed and sent pains screaming through his head and neck.

As he ate he went through everything that had happend the previous day...it sure had been a long one. He was finishing up a glass of water when the bomb siren went off in the building. A set of emergency lights flicked on in his room, nearly blinding him.

Nikolas jumped up, dropping the glass on the carpet and ran out of the room and down the stairs, skipping two and three as he did so, trying to get to the situation room as quickly as possible. At the end of the concrete corridor he keyed in his code and burst into the brightly lit room. The soliders inside, still a skeleton crew, were bustling about with purpose. Up on the screen was another satellite feed in thermal mode, showing the same square yellow shapes moving forward. This time the barrels, thin and yellow and red, were emitting blasts of red and yellow heat. Nikolas didn't have to be told to what it was.

He burst into the Watch Officers room who was busy shouting down the phone line. "Yes...you need to stop him...STOP HIM I SAID...I KNOW BUT TRY...GENERAL...GENERAL...COME IN...shit," the Major jerked the phone away as a loud explosion echoed down the line and then there was nothing. The Major slammed the phone onto the desk and slumped into his chair, hands across his face. Nikolas had to know what was going on, "Major, whats happening?" The Major tore his hands from his face and sighed dejectedly, "Satellite came back into orbit a few minutes ago...Kuznetsin is across the border and already five miles inside the Oblast. That was General Krelo on the phone...with I Corps' two hundred something tanks...looks like they got taken out in a surprise attack...there's no one else between Kuznetsin and us now, just some troops and most have deserted. What do we do sir?"

Nikolas bit his lip, he made his decision. There was no second guessing it, no discussing it, he made the only decision he could. He wasn't going to let Moscow fall to that eastern barbarian who had dared call himself a General. "I'm going to save us...the Hirgizstanians...they're our last hope..." The Major barely reacted, until he said, "The enemy of my enemy is my friend..." Nikolas nodded, then said in a more upbeat, hopefull tone, "Major, get all the troops at the Palace together, get all the weapons you can from the armory and get your men set up ready to defend this place." The Major nodded and followed Nikolas out, turning right while Nikolas turned left toward the exit.

He ran up the stairs, telling stragglers to get to the bomb shelter and expect a longer stay this time. He bombed up the stairs, taking them in jumps, and sprinted down the second floor corridor. He ended up at the conference room and took a deep breath before going inside. Abdul was in there, still at his computer. He looked up at Nikolas, "Are we going to the shelter?"
Nikolas did nothing, "You know whats happening?" Abdul nodded gravely, "I'm watching it in beautiful technicolor. Looks like whoever tried to stop Kuznetsin just lost his last tank. Kuznetsin lost about fifty, looked like one helluva battle. He'll be here soon you know." It was Nikolas' turn to nod now.

"Listen Abdul, if I agree for this Oblast and this city to join the Commonwealth, can you protect the people here?" Abdul pushed his chair back from the computer, "You've left it pretty late...but I have no doubt we'd be able to stop Kuznetsin, but he'll probably be banging at the gates by the time support arrives." Nikolas nodded and was silent for a second, "Well then, fellow Hirgizstanian, we had better get a move on." Abdul nodded solemly. He took out a satellite phone from his inside jacket pocket and keyed in a small number. He quoted a security code and then stated simply, "Moscow State is a Code Black. Repeat, Code Black."

The Winter Palace, 0525 Hours

Nikolas watched Abdul put the phone away, he wanted an explanation of what the hell a 'code black' was, but he saw none was going to be forthcoming without some prodding, "What the hell is a code black? Whats the plan?"

Abdul stood up and walked over to the window, a palm pilot in his hands. He was tapping away on it when he started talking, "A Code Black means that a Hirgizstanian border has been breached and it alerts all military units within a reasonable range, that aren't engaged, to ride to the rescue, so to speak. The plan at the moment is to wait for a Special Forces team to arrive, they'll be here soon, and then to fortify this place and hope Kuznetsin doesn't make it into the city before dawn."

Nikolas nodded, Abdul tapped a bit more on the palm pilot and then put it away. Nikolas said, "So what should I do...about the people in the city...what do I tell them?" Abdul, for the millionth time it seemed, looked smug in the fact that he knew that question was coming. "Tell them the truth, tell them we're here to protect them. But use what police and extra soldiers you have to keep them in their houses, make that clear. The city will be dangerous enough without civilians causing all sorts of mayhem and confusion." Nikolas understood, "I'll use the recorders at the Press Room to make an announcement and get it sent out to the Moscow News Service. Have you any idea when your...our people will get here?"

Abdul smirked at Nikolas' mistake and correction, "No, no idea when they'll be here. But we can expect some Air assets to be on their way. Hopefully I'll get word before the Special Forces get here, but if not they'll let us know. And one more thing..." Abdul walked over to a corner of the room and rustled about in a black holdall before producing a large soft thing wrapped in white paper. He handed it to Nikolas, "...run this up the flagpole." Nikolas looked down and unwrapped a layer of paper to reveal a corner of a huge new Hirgizstanian flag. Nikolas just nodded and left to get the flag sorted and do his announcement.

Abdul just slumped back into his chair and brought up the latest satellite feed of Kuznetsin's tanks...they were getting closer.

The Winter Palace, 0605 Hours

The first light of dawn was breaking over the skyline of the city as Abdul came up onto the roof of the Palace. It probably wouldn't be sunny, but he hoped it would be full light before Kuznetsin arrived. He was so close now.

The helipad on the roof was lit up brightly, four big lights glowing at the four corners. A couple of soldiers walked about, one carrying glowing sticks with which he could help bring the SOF helicopter down. Nikolas was just coming up the stairs as the distant sounds of rotor blades broke the silence.

Nikolas quickly moved across to where Abdul was standing, "The broadcast is going out now. We'll know what people are doing soon. You get any word about the support we're going to get?"

Abdul nodded as he scanned the dark blue morning sky for any sign of the chopper, "Air Force are scrambling assets, and three Corps from a Border Defense Force are on their way."

Nikolas stared bug eyed at Abdul, "BORDER DEFENSE! You mean to say the only help we're getting is from a bunch of over-hyped policemen?" Abdul looked incredulously at Nikolas for a second, then he realised. He didn't know that the COH Border Defense Forces were military, and equipped similar to the regular army. Abdul laughed and Nikolas nearly had apoplexy, "You misunderstand, the Commonwealth's BDF is not law enforcement, thats the Border Patrol. The BDF is military and is equipped like an Army, they'll be able to give Kuznetsin's inferior equipment the rightabout." Nikolas calmed down after that. Abdul spoke again, louder over the thump of rotor blades somewhere to their front, "I know the Special Forces leader on this team, your gonna love him." Abdul laughed, Nikolas didn't quite understand why.

The Pave Hawk suddenly appeared in the blue sky in front of them, a looming black shape with red light spilling from the cockpit and rear bay. The soldier with the nightsticks was already up on the edge of the helipad, waving his arms like a wind-caught scarecrow as the big MH-60G began to descend. Nikolas and Abdul tightened up their suit jackets and looked at the ground, not wanting to get dust blown into their eyes.

They didn't look up again until the whine of the rotor engines was receding. The doors of the cargo area of the aircraft were yanked open and a tall soldier jumped down, carrying a big holdall, his Land Warrior gear inside. Four other soldiers also jumped off, their holdalls slung on their backs as they carried big metal containers down the steps of the helipad, the tall one striding in front of them.

The tall soldier strode across to Abdul with a big grin, "You've got me saving your ass and this Russian vodka swiller, man? Why don't you give me a challenge eh?" The man's voice was distincly South African. Abdul shooks the big man's hand and turned to Nikolas, "This is Lex MacPherson, Staff Sergeant Mac to us, and as you can see he doesn't like Russians." Abdul smiled aswell. Nikolas just nodded, happy that help was here at last. Abdul realised Nikolas was asking questions with his eyes. "Lex is from the United States [Of Brink], an immigrant. He still isn't used to Russians yet, although he should be after so many years." Nikolas nodded with a slight smile.

However, the pleasantries were cut short by a loud explosion from the other side of the city. Kuznetsin had arrived.

The Winter Palace, 0615 Hours

Everyone on the roof flinched and ducked at the sound of the explosion tearing the relative stillness of the early morning. A flock of birds burst from a tree in the corner of the parking lot and immediately Lex was shouting orders to his men. He dropped his own duffel bag and threw on the Land Warrior system that incorporated armor. Next to come was a helmet which he plugged into a small camouflage lead coming from the back of the vest.

Abdul and Nikolas were both looking across the skyline to the east as fire began to light up an area down there. Intermittent gunfire began to sound out near where the flames lit up the sky a little. Lex said loudly to Abdul as he was fiddling about with the small interactive console in his forearm, "Get down into the building. You got any soldiers round here?" Nikolas nodded, "Well send them up here with all the weapons they can carry. Close the security gates to the palace aswell. If its breached get the fuck up to the roof for an evac...no arguments." Despite Lex's words, Nikolas opened his mouth to argue but Abdul grabbed his arm and started shoving him towards the stairwell in the corner of the gravel strewn roof.

The four soldiers Lex had brought with him had set up positions on the east side of the roof, from where Kuznetsin would probably attack from. One of the soldiers, kneeling in the corner, had an M82 Barret on its bipod sitting on the ledge of the roof. But the soldier sat below the roofline, with one of the long green metal boxes. He was busy setting up a M92 15.7mm Banshee Anti-Materiel Rifle. One of the other soldiers sat about ten feet away with a Predator Anti-Tank Weapon. He had brought it in one its hexagonal carry cases with a big attachment on the bottom that carried a stacked magazine of missiles. He had them set up against the wall below the lip of the roof. His personal weapon, a SCAR-L with a Grenade Launcher, was slung.

On the other side of the roof another soldier sat in the corner with an M240G sitting on the ledge. Ten feet up from him sat another soldier with the other box at his feet. He had emptied it of its M134 ATL's, and they sat lined up below the lip of the wall, ten of them in all. His personal weapon, a SCAR-H with some modifications, was slung around his back.

Lex was still standing below the helipad. He was finding out where the 4 AH-60DAP's (Direct Action Penetrators) that they had left with where. They had refuelled en-route so they would be able to take up stations for longer over the city. He eventually got word they were five minutes from the suburbs, and as he was about to close the comm link with the JSTARS aicraft, they told him that an AC-130U was en-route and would contact him when it was closer.

Lex's four other team members had yet to check in. They were riding with the three BDF Corps and were still far away. As he shut down all comms links another explosion ripppled across the city and the sound of tank tracks and diesel engines could be faintly heard on the light wind.

Lex slung his M29 AICW (Advanced Infantry Combat Weapon) and picked up the duffle bag at his feet. He pulled out a small green plate-shaped device. It was a mini-drone, which all Squad Leaders in the COH Military carried. It looked like a thick frisbee, with a central body raised up from the circular bottom, and this raised area housed the propeller mechanism. The small metal propeller sat at the front of the strange little machine, that was only about a foot across and a foot in length. A small multi-direction camera sat on the bottom of the body.

Lex brought up the MD (Mini-Drone) screen on his visor as he walked up to the heli-pad. The crew were pottering about the MH-60G as Lex walked past. He placed the small drone down on the helipad, its plastic motorized wheels balancing it. He aimed it out east and stood back. He pressed a button on his arm console and the little metal propeller broke into life. Then he pressed another button and the little green drone released a burst of gas and it was shot off the roof and into the air in a split second. It wobbled for a bit before stabilising and then climbing. Lex added some co-ordinates into the MD menu and he went back down from the helipad.

Another explosion, closer this time, broke across the city. About ten Russian soldiers came up the fire escape, holding RPG's and other Russian-made rocket launchers. Two had Dragunov's and two had PK MG's. The rest carried the black AN-94. Lex set them up around the roof. The sound of heavy tank tracks sounded closer now.

The Winter Palace, 0630 Hours

Lex gripped up his weapon and started shouting at the Russian soldiers on the roof. Three of them carried hefty yellow-greenish coloured 9K111 Fagot ATL's, they were visibly shaking under the weight of the beastly Russian weapon. Lex pointed and shouted as gunfire began to erupt to the east, punctuated by the unmistakable sound of tank's firing in unison.

Three more of the Russians carried shiny new RPG-8 Launcher's. Lex cautioned them not to waist the missiles on the tanks, but to fire at any lesser vehicles or dismounted troops. The two guys with the Dragunov's he placed on the shorter side of the building, facing the gates that two of their comrades were busy closing. The two with the MG's were to stay with Lex and fire where and when he fired.

After sorting out the Russians Lex stood watching the brightening sky and listening to the sound of battle get closer. He wondered who was fighting who, or was this Kuznetsin guy just killing anyone and everyone in his way? It was hard to tell, no tanks had yet come into view. But as he thought about this, his visor kicked into life and the drone's camera screen came into the middle. Now he could see the tanks. He used the directional controls on his arm-pad to zoom in and check the types. There was a motley crew of sorts, some Cherney Oriols (Black Eagles), some T-90's and a whole load of heavily upgraded T-80's with a lot of ERA.

There were also some BMP's and troops moving with the rearmost tanks. The roads all around that area of the city seemed to be choked full of grey-green armor. This guy had 3000 tanks, and they were all over the damm place. Lex wondered if Kuznetsin knew the Winter Palace was where the government was, not the Kremlin, to which he was coming close. If he hit the Kremlin first, that would be good. It would slow him down and give Lex and his men a fighting chance. He set the drone to fly a pattern and record.

As he shut down the drone camera on his visor, his radio crackled to life. "Party Crasher this is Keg 1-1," Lex smiled as he heard his chosen call-signs being repeated without a hint of comedy, " we are inbound, will cross your position in thirty seconds, en-route to engage." Lex looked behind him but he couldn't see anything yet in the still dark blue sky, "Roger Keg 1-1, keep in contact, over."
"Roger Party Crasher, wait out."

Just over half a minute later the Palace seemed to shake as four AH-60DAP's, their wing pylons bristling with weaponry, roared overhead. The Russians watched, still worried looking, and Lex's men simply stared nonchalantly as the four aircraft banked east and headed toward where there was smoke rising. Lex could hear the pilots on their channel. They were arming their weapons and picking targets. A split second after he heard the 'fire' command, all four aircraft lit up as four Hellfire missiles dropped from their pylons and speeded downward. The missiles dipped below the skyline and then there were four huge explosions. The pilots shouted out their hits and went on to locking up other targets.

For the next five minutes the AH-60's buzzed about over the eastern sky loosing off their compliment of Hellfire missiles. Each carried 8 Hellfire's and it took them a while to fire off each one. They were reporting 'hits' with each shot. Once they were out of Hellfire's the aircraft regrouped and then began strafing the tanks and lighter vehicles with their 20mm Cannons and dual 7.62mm Mini-Guns. The tear and pop of the big guns rumbled across the sky as the soldiers on top of the Winter Palace watched the awesome display of firepower.

Lex was listening in on the channel and feeling better about their chances when he heard, "Shit...shit...this is Keg 1-3, someone's locked me up. Iglas Missile, oh crap. Missile Away, Missile Away! Its closing...taking evasive ma-" There was a roar of static and Lex saw the fireball before he heard the last words of the pilot. One of the AH-60's just exploded in mid-air. The fireball seemed to stop for a second before falling from the sky in a fiery ball toward the ground. The soliders on the roof began to mumble and point and wonder what was happening. Lex didn't interrupt the other pilots, he let them get on with it.

He heard Keg 1-1 come on the channel, "Its a Havoc...its a damm Havoc! It was under radar. Let's get this bastard...come on...closer...Lock...Fox-1" A Stinger Missile (2 each on the AH-60DAP) streaked out from one of the aircraft in the distance and Lex watched the fire-trail all the way until it exploded. It exploded big, and the pilot shouted the hit. The enemy helicopter exploded like Keg 1-3 and slowly, almost floated toward the ground.

Another Havoc showed up and the AH-60's dealt with it, but not before it had loosed off its own missile. However, the AH-60 that got locked up went in low, below the roof line of some of the buildings in the city and the missile went straight into one. It took another fifteen minutes or so before the remaining three AH-60's expended their ammo. They bugged out over Lex's position again and he thanked them. They sounded solemn on their way back, mourning the loss of a crew.

All in all they had destroyed 32 tanks and 12 BMP's. To a formation of 3000 it wasn't but a small dent. However, as Lex observed with his drone the remaining tanks seemed to still be moving forward, with more coming up behind them. The whole procession looked confused though, there wasn't much organization to it. It seemed they had been taken completely and untterly unawares. However, their confusion didn't stop them pushing on toward the Kremlin. One of the Russians stood on the ledge to get a better view and he said his brother was a Guard over there. He began to shake with sorrow and anger as the explosions and gunfire erupted from the former seat of Government.

The Winter Palace, 0715 Hours

Lex and his men on the roof had watched as the day had dawned. The sky was near full bright now, but still overcast. Palls of black smoke hung over the city and rose up angrily from the Kremlin. The last gunfire had died away around 7am. The soldier with the brother at the Kremlin had cried and been consoled by his freinds. Lex stood him up and vowed he would have his revenge.

At just after seven Lex breathed a sigh of relief as the AC-130U Spooky checked in. He was watching the skies as it passed way above, coming down out of the clouds like some masterful bird of prey. "This is Boom-Box 1, ready to engage. Enjoy the show gentlemen." The Spooky levelled off below the cloud cover over the Kremlin. The drone of the big turboprop engines drifted across the city. And then, like the sky was tearing, the 25mm and 40mm Cannon's opened up, the tracer arcing to the ground like fire from a dragon's mouth. The tear of the heavy rounds was punctuated every now and again by the pop and loud explosions of the 105mm Howitzer.

The Russians on the roof stood on the ledge to get a better look and cheered the big aircraft on. For about ten minutes the big grey beast went to and fro over the skies spitting its deady cargo on Kuznetsin's hapless tanks and men. At about 7.25 the pilot came across Lex's radio, "Boom-Box is out of ammo, we're pulling out. Be advised Party Crasher, enemy units appear to be heading your way. Good luck, Boom Box out."

Lex was immediately moving across the roof to get the Russians down off the ledge, but as he did so a huge explosion tore across the front of the building, sending him flying backward onto the gravel roof. His hearing seemed to go and it was replaced by ringing. All he could see was white smoke as he moved about on his back, trying to right himself. As he did so the bodies of a couple of Russians, limbs missing lay to his side. One of his men was screaming in his ear that they had incoming. The whoosh and pop of rockets and gunfire echoed around, but it sounded distant. Lex's hearing was still fucked, but coming back gradually.

He sat up and crawled forward. The roof ledge in front of him was gone, there was just a jagged concrete edge. The helicopter crew were off to his left, covering behind the helipad structure.

Another explosion rocked the building as Lex stood up and crouched down, bounding toward the edge of the building, his gun up and in his shoulder. His men and some of the Russians were busy firing their ATL's, and the heavy thud of the Banshee erupted to his left every now and then. Intermittent heavy and light machine gun rounds were being layed down and the zip and pop of incoming was all around. The unmistakeable heavy thud of many 'dushka's' (Russian DSHK 12.7mm MG) and NSV's firing in unison crackled all around and echoed off the building.

His radio sparked up again, "Sergeant, we got serious fucking incoming, tanks, APC's, soldiers. Rockets are nearly depleted and we got three Russians dead."

Lex made it to the lip of the roof in between his man with the Banshee and the one with the Predator ATL. The beep and whoosh of a rocket locking up and firing sounded beside him and he was engulfed in propellant smoke. The Banshee shot out again to his right. Lex gripped his weapon and crouched over the lip. He nearly stopped dead when he saw the scene. There were smoking wrecks of tanks and dead soldiers strewn everywhere, but there was so many more tanks moving inexorably towards them. There was no way they could hold them all off. Nikolas fired the GL on his weapon until the mag was empty. The rounds hit a couple of squads of soldiers moving toward the building's gates. A couple of the guys had big heavy bolt-cutters in their now dead hands, as Lex could see on his visor, via the sight on the M29.

But he had to duck again as rounds sparked off on the lip of the building, sending brick dust puffs into the air. Behind the lip of the wall Lex wrote a quick email, it read. "Party Crasher is about to be overrun. Require Assisstance Immediately." He sent it and then called up his assistant squad leader who, with his other three men, was with the BDF.He got a reply but they were still too far away to do anything.

Lex shut off his radio and breathed deep. He stood up as another explosion hit the building, this time plowing into the side. The M240G stopped firing. "Corporal, check in, check in." Lex bellowed over the radio, unable to see from the smoke that engulfed him from the left. Despite it, he was immediately up and running to the side of the building. But it was gone. His Corporal was gone and a couple of limbs and body parts in torn and bloody Russian camouflage lay about. He moved closer to the edge and something heavy and dull smacked him in the shoulder, like a heavy punch. He staggered back. Then another, much heavier smack hit him in the chest and he was thrown backward to the ground.

He tried to get up, dazed, when another explosion to his front tore the breath out of his lungs. Debris rained down on him as he tried to move. Something sticky and warm trickled down his right arm and his chest ached as he tried to draw breath. It felt like his ribcage was pointing inward.

From the smoke a face appeared over him, shouting something. But he couldn't hear. It was his other Corporal, the sniper. He dragged Lex in behind an air conditioning housing and left. As Lex's hearing came back he could make out the sound of heavy machine guns and the odd report of a Barrett and an AK. Then the was another huge explosion to the front of the building. Lex crawled forward and made it to his feet, his gun in his right hand. There was blood on his hand, mixed with concrete dust.

As the smoke dissapated he could see the whole front and left side of the roof were gone. The MH-60G on the helipad was on fire and the cockpit was blown apart along with the front of the helipad. The crew were nowhere to be seen. His men and the Russians were nowhere to be seen either, save for a few body parts, blood and weapons. He made it to the edge of the roof to see a huge Black Eagle tank ram down the gates to the Palace. He fired his M29 at it and then something hit him in the head. His vision went dull and he was aware of falling...then nothing.

Kuznetsin's tanks and men poured through the gates into the Palace.

The Winter Palace, 0800 Hours

Abdul and Nikolas were standing in a corner of the bomb shelter near the door. Abdul was watching the chaos outside on his palm pilot, via the CCTV cameras placed around the palace. Nikolas didn't even ask how he could have got into the system, there was no real point now.

The people gathered inside the Bunker looked frightened at best. They could hear the gunfire and explosions and the building seemed to shake with the latter every now and then.

Nikolas was watching a woman hyperventalating on the other side of the room, a brown bag to her face when Abdul touched his arm, a worried expression on his face, the first time Nikolas had seen him that way. "They're inside Nikolas, time to go." He just nodded, too weary to really care any more.

Abdul stopped by the doorway and turned to the soldier who was there, "When we go out, close this door and don't open it unless its a Hirgizstanian, me or Nikolas." The young soldier nodded and gripped his gun tighter.

Nikolas and Abdul opened the heavy blast door and were outside and running down the corridor as the soldier shut the big door. The firing sounded so close as they made it to the ground floor. There was glass and broken concrete everywhere.

They sprinted up the stairs to the top floor and were inside the roof stairwell in a few seconds. Abdul was first out of the stairwell and onto the roof. He simply stopped in his tracks. Nikolas was up second and he careered into Abdul, sending them both falling to the ground. Abdul fell beside a severed arm, an AN-94 still gripped in the dirty, blood streaked hand. He rolled over to get away from the sight and was greeted with another, the body of one of the helicopter crewmen lay on his other side. He simply rolled onto his back and jumped up.

Nikolas lay a few feet away, breathing heavy. There was another helicopter crewman, with no lower body, lying in front of him. Abdul helped him up and they both stood and looked around what was left of the roof. Smoke hung in palls everywhere. Bodies and limbs and blood lay all over the building. The smoking wreck of the MH-60G sparked and crackled as the electronics burned. The sound of gunfire from the back of the building echoed all around as Kuznetsin's men stormed in through the gate, several stories below.

Abdul and Nikolas just stood there. They couldn't get away now. Abdul walked around the roof, he found Lex's body, lying sideways, gun still in hand, brass casings all around. His helmet had a whole in the front-left the size of an apple. Blood and brain matter were pasted to the camouflage. Abdul hunkered down beside him.

Nikolas appeared at his side, "What do we do?" Abdul didn't reply, he didn't know. He was about to say that when he heard a static noise followed by a barely audible voice. It was coming from Lex's helmet. The radio still worked! The sound was still there, with the voice breaking the static every few seconds as Abdul slowly got the helmet off Lex's head. There was blood and brain matter all over it. He grabbed the mic as he held the helmet in his hand and pressed the transmit button on Lex's weapon, "Party Crasher is gone, they're all dead. This is Abdul Suleimann, NIA Agent, security number 1789." The static returned for a few seconds, then a voice came through, "Sir, this is Entourage 1-1, we're eastbound over the city. Whats the situation, over?"

"Palace has been breached. Enemy units surround us, what are you Entourage, over."

"Sir, Entourage Flight is an Air National Guard formation, seventy five A-10's, inbound."

Abdul smiled briefly, "Entourage, drop all your ordnance danger close but be careful of the palace."

"Roger that Sir, Entourage inbound, out."

Almost as divine confirmation the sound of heavy and monotonous jet engines began to punctuate the lulls in gunfire. The unmistakeable sound of A-10 Thunderbolt's.

Abdul grabbed Nikolas and shoved him toward the stairwell. The last place they needed to be was on the roof. As they were in the concrete stairwell Abdul dialled a number on his palm pilot, "This is 1789, I want all the communications to Staff Sergeant Lex MacPhearson to go through this line from now on. Yes, do it now." Abdul pulled the foldable wireless headset from his inside pocked and put it on, putting the palm pilot away and listening to the chatter from Entourage 1-1.

Nikolas was about to open the door from the roof stairwell to the top floor of the palace when Abdul caught him. "No, Kuznetsin's men are in there. We need to-" The door burst inward and Nikolas and Abdul were knocked backward. Standing in the doorway was a surprised looking soldier, wearing Spetsnaz camouflage and carrying an AK-74SU. He was bringing it up to fire but Abdul was quicker. He whipped out his SOCOM .45 and fired twice as he brought the gun up. One shot hit the soldier in the lower torso, the other just over the heart. His armor stopped the bullets, but he was staggering backward in pain when Abdul put a round through his face and he collapsed like a sack of water. Suddenly gunfire erupted from down the hallway, blasting chunks of concrete from the doorway. Nikolas shut the door quickly, rounds pinging and clanging off the heavy steel. Abdul handed him a fire axe and he jammed it through the opening bar so the door wouldn't open.

With their ears still ringing they went back down the corridor and turned the corner to go up the stairs, both nearly collapsing from the exertion. Abdul put the SOCOM away and unholstered another weapon from his shoulder, a Para PXT .45. He handed it to Nikolas who, surprisingly, checked the chamber and safetied it. He saw Abdul looking quizzically at him, "Conscription...Military Police for my last year." Abdul then remembered, it had been in his file.

Abdul heard Entourage 1-1 over his headset, "Entourage Flight, this is Lead, prepare to engage. Pick your targets and fire at will."

From the open hatch at the top of the stairwell Abdul and Nikolas heard the scream like sound of the A-10's as they descended from cloud cover. Nearly a minute later the first explosions sounded at the front and sides of the building, shaking its very foundations. Each A-10 carried six Mavrick AGM's, which meant, if things went well, 450 of Kuznetsin's tanks would be scrap. Then the 30mm GAU Cannon in the nose, that would put paid to a few more tanks aswell, and as Abdul thought about that he heard the unmistakeable tearing sound of one of the 30mm Cannons somewhere outside.

The Winter Palace, 0830 Hours

They could both hear the 30mm Cannon's tearing into metal and huge explosions from the Maverick missiles, which shook the building. That sound was interspersed with the swearing of SpetsNaz soldiers trying to break through the door that led to the roof stairwell. The door was starting to give under the pressure. It wouldn't be long before the wooden handled axe gave way or they decided to blow off the hinges with a few well placed shots or a grenade.

Abdul looked up at Nikolas who was standing, his back to the wall, peering around the corner at the door, watching the axe rattle with every kick and cuss. Abdul stood, "They'll be through that soon, I'm going up to the roof to see if I can get some weapons. If I don't come back, try and get out of here. This state's gonna need you." Nikolas nodded, not taking his eyes off the door and Abdul climbed up the stairs, keeping his head down.

He crawled out onto the roof. Lex's body was off to his left. A couple of bodies lay to his right. He crawled over. They were both Russian, one had an AN-94 wedged under his chest. Abdul pulled it out, the sound of explosions and aircraft and mayhem all around. He rolled the soldier over with some difficulty. His face had been destroyed, caved in. Abdul simply ignored it. He undid the chest harness that held five magazines with two grenades and threw it behind him toward the stairwell. It clanged off the metal stairs as it fell.

Nikolas carried the AN-94 in his right hand as he crawled forward, the gravel on the roof pulling at his suit jacket. The second soldier lay near the first, only one of his legs was missing and his left arm was torn to shreds. There was blood everywhere. But there was also a Dragunov sniper rifle still clasped in his right hand. He moved forward to try and pry it from the man's dead fingers, but as he did so there was a barely audible crack and then some gravel kicked up violently an inch from his arm, and then again, closer. Nikolas quickly moved backward, using his legs and digging in his elbows. There was a sniper somewhere. "Entorage Lead, this is Palace Guard, my new callsign, I have a sniper off to the east, probably on the roof of a building higher than the palace and directly facing the east wall."

"Roger Palace Guard...coming in for a look." A minute or two later there was an almighty roar of jet engines as the A-10 roared low above the Palace. "Thats affirmative Palace Guard, there's a squad on the roof of a building opposite. Will return for strafing, over."

There were probably civilians in the building, but nothing could be done about that. A few minutes later the A-10 roared back overhead, above the mayhem below, and its gun spat out thousands of rounds of ammo, some of the huge brass casings falling a few metres in front of Abdul. "Palace Guard, roof is clear."

"Thanks Entourage, Palace Guard out." Nikolas crawled forward much more slowly this time. There was no shot or eruption of gravel like before and he was able to lift the Dragunov out of the soldier's stiff hands and take off his blood soaked chest harness and throw it down the stairwell. Abdul followed, crawling down the stairs until he was well below the lip of the roof and then stood up. He picked up the chest harness' and ran down the few flights to the bottom. The same kicking against metal greeted him and Nikolas looked more worried. "A few more kicks and the wood in that axe is going to go." Abdul looked and right enough, it was beginning to splinter, the cheap piece of shit. Abdul realised then and there that the fate of millions of people and an entire state lay in the hands of a cheap axe.

Abdul laid the weapons on the stairwell and checked the chest harness's, taking a grenade out of one of them. As the wood began to splinter in earnest Abdul removed the pin and Nikolas nodded. The door then began to give and the shouting got louder, drowned out only every now and then by explosions and 30mm Cannon fire from outside.

The door burst open and Abdul chucked the grenade and ducked behind the corner with Nikolas, covering their ears. There were a few loud shouts in Russian and then an explosion that Nikolas and Abdul could both feel wash over them. Their ears began to ring. They could hear nothing. Nikolas stood and peered around the corner. The small corridor was clouded in smoke and several bodies lay slumped, bloody and dismembered all over each other. There were groans from the bodies and screaming and cursing from the doorway. Through the smoke came a burst of tinny AK-74SU fire and Nikolas ducked back behind the corner, watching the bullets take chunks out of the concrete in front of him and beside Abdul who was sitting on the stairs.

Nikolas stuck the PXT pistol around the corner and fired off a few shots, the cartridges being ejected powerfully (PXT-Power Extractor- stops double feeds). The AK fire tailed off and there were raised Russian voices. Nikolas' eyes went bug eyed as he understood what was said, so did Abdul's, they shouted "GRENADE!" in unison and stumbled up the stairs, grabbing the chest harness' and rifles as they did so. They turned another corner, the roof exit ahead of them up the stairs. The another explosion as the grenade went off, probably right where they had been a few seconds ago.

Abdul stopped on the stairs and chucked his SOCOM pistol to Nikolas. He threw on the chest harness with the AN Mags and picked up the black AK-like rifle. The sound of shouting and shooting blasted up from the hallway below. Nikolas already had the bloody harness holding the big Dragunov magazines on his chest, and the big rifle strapped to his back. The two men just nodded at each other. They were goners if they didn't move, and if they moved onto the roof they would be taken out by every sniper and MG gunner Kuznetsin had.

So they stepped down off the stairs and rounded the corner, Abdul with the AN-94 in his shoulder, Nikolas with the two guns held outstretched like some guy in a film. The first SpetsNaz solder rounded the corner in the smoke haze and was about to start firing when Abdul and Nikolas cut him down, sending him sprawling into the wall. Another soldier rounded the corner firing, but he didn't elevate the gun enough and he was cut down again. There was more shouting below and then an AK with a hand on it came round the corner and loosed a burst of fire up at Abdul and Nikolas. They both jumped back into cover. A grenade then bounced up the stairs toward them. But Abdul kicked it back down the stairs and jumped into cover. The explosion rocked the building and his ears felt like they would explode. When the explosion died away there was more screaming and oaths from below.

The screaming eventually subsided and then there was nothing, nobody else put their gun around the corner or tried to throw a grenade at them. There was relative silence, apart from the gunfire and explosions from outside. The two men cautiously went down the stairs and peered around the corner. There were seven bodies lying there, one in the doorway, three in the middle of the hall, one at the near corner and two at the foot of the stairs. None of them were moving or making a sound. They had bullet wounds or shrapnel wounds that dripped and leaked blood, some of it pooling on the dirty, debris strewn concrete floor.

They moved slowly toward the doorway, trying not to make any noise. Once there they listened for a few seconds and then Abdul peered around. There was nobody there, just the body of the first soldier he'd killed lying in the corner near the balcony overlooking the spiralling stairwell. Abdul grabbed up the headset from around his neck, "Entourage whats your status, over?"

"Palace Guard, Entourage Flight is nearly out of ammo and three planes are down from SAM fire. The cavalry is inbound, over."

Abdul didn't understand, "The what is inbound?"

"The BDF Forces, their forward elements are in the city. Its got the enemy units in a panick, they seem to be pulling out of the palace."

Abdul smiled slightly, "Thank you Entourage, Palace Guard out."

The Winter Palace, 0910 Hours

Abdul smiled for a brief second before trying to raise the nearest freindly ground unit via an uplink on his Palm Pilot to the Battlefield Network. He linked into the first avaliable unit, not checking what it was, just wanting to hear some good news. "Hirgizstanian Unit, this is Palace Guard, whats your status over?"

The was silence for a few seconds. Nikolas put the SOCOM in the band of his trousers and held the PXT with both hands, aimed down the hallway, toward the staircase. "Palace Guard, this is Little Bear, Tver National Guard, over."

Abdul looked puzzled and worried for a second, "National Guard...where's the BDF?"

There was another brief pause, "Palace Guard, the BDF is behind us somewhere. The Code Black got sent to half the National Guard units in the northern state's, there's a whole bunch of us out here. I got called up so quick I'm still wearing a pair of jeans. What is your status, Palace Guard."

Abdul felt better now, it seemed there was more than just the three BDF Corps on the way. He quickly checked the Palm Pilot to see the list of units on the way, and right enough there was quite a few National Guard units from various places, as well as the BDF Corps. "Little Bear, Palace Guard is isolated and we have been under fire. Relay the message to advancing forces that Party Crasher is dead, repeat- Party Crasher is dead. Palace Guard is two up and in need of urgent reinforcement, you copy Little Bear?"

"Roger that Palace Guard, hold on, I can see the palace from here. Sit tight."

Abdul put the earphones down again and just as he did so he heard shots from a few floors below and shouting. There was a woman screaming and a few male voices shouting obscenities. Abdul signalled to Nikolas to move down the stairs.

They both did so, getting closer to the noise the further they went down. The disturbance was on the second floor. There was a single AK shot and a loud cry from the woman before she started wailing and screaming. There was laughter.

Nikolas and Abdul sat on the stairs, the third floor peeling left and right in front of them. The noise was down to the left, fairly close. It was magnified by the stone walls and marble floor.

Abdul stuck his head round the corner and quickly jerked it back. Out in the hall, next to an office door a woman was pinned up against a wall, being raped by a SpetsNaz soldier, with two others standing by shouting encouragement. A dead man lay on the floor nearby, blood pooling from his head. They couldn't throw a grenade without killing the woman.

Abdul leaned in close to Nikolas who was standing a stair up, the Dragunov still strapped to his back. He whispered close to Nikolas' ear to help defeat the screaming and sobbing from around the corner, "We jump out on three, you take the closer soldier, I'll take the further one. We'll see what the scumbag rapist does. If he fires we duck back into cover. Go on three."

Nikolas nodded out and mouthed the numbers, then jumped around the corner, AN-94 in the shoulder and set to single round fire mode. Abdul stepped out from the wall a bit more, the nearest soldier saw him but didn't have the time to move as Abdul fired, hitting the far soldier in the chest with a well placed double tap. Then, the near soldier instinctively brought up his gun and Nikolas, now beside Abdul, loosed off a round from the PXT, hitting the soldier in the neck. He went down on his side, hands clutching the gurgling and bubbling wound.

The rapist had fallen to one side, and the woman was running toward Abdul and Nikolas. He was on the floor with his pants around his ankles trying to get to his rifle which was up against the wall. Nikolas fired, hitting him in the balls. He screamed like an animal, and then Nikolas fired three more shots, stepping them up his chest to his head.

The woman collapsed in Abdul's arms. The two men pulled her skirt down for modesty and carried her catiously down to the bunker in the basement. The pale, shocked and worried soldier who had let them out, let them back in.

But Abdul wasn't staying. He took the Dragunov and spare ammo off Nikolas and took his SOCOM back before nodding and leaving again, the big blast door shutting behind him.

The sounds of battle were still raging outside, but the sounds were further away from the Palace now. The roar of planes overhead was also dying away, and then to confirm it, "Palace Guard, this is Entourage Lead, Entourage flight is pulling out. Good luck, Entourage out."

Abdul didn't dare go outside. That would be pure stupidity. So he sat at the reception desk, looking out past the smashed doors and broken windows at the palls of smoke rising above the city. The remains of a destroyed Cherny Oriol tank sat right outside the doorway, some of the smaller ammunition cooking off every now and then.

Abdul had the headset on and he was listening to the reports coming in. It seemed Kuznetsin had tried a multiple angle attack through various streets of the city to cut apart the advancing Hirgizstanian forces, but UAV's had seen him coming and the M1A5 Tanks of the BDF were at the fore, simply obliterating anything in their way. Some National Guard units, armed only with M1A3 tanks, seemed to be taking heavy fire in some areas, but progress was being made. There were also reports from UAV monitors that civilians seemed to be out in the streets, in some force, with their own weapons and Molotov Cocktails. They were firing on Kuznetsin's troops and throwing the cocktails over the tanks. It was not a wise move since a bit of fire would not destroy a tank, but it couldn't really be helped. There was no way to get the civilians to stop defending their city.

The first signs of success came when a recon unit reported enemy tanks turning tail and heading back toward the eastern suburbs. It looked like they were retreating. A few minutes after this report an LMTV, bristling with guns, turned up outside the Palace. Three soldiers jumped off, all armed to the teeth and wearing SOF versions of the standard Land Warrior equipment. Abdul knew they were the rest of Lex's team.

He stood up to greet them, their faces said everything. Abdul simply said, "On the roof." They passed him by. They had been gone for a few minutes when a big armoured HummVee turned up next to the LMTV and a BDF General wearing armor and carrying a SCAR, got out with a couple of BDF troopers and entered the building. Abdul stood up again, his bloody, torn clothing and soot covered face, not to mention the Dragunov over his back, the chest harness and the AN-94, made him look like he'd just been through the tough end of the battle, which in a way he had. The BDF troopers and the General looked at him slightly funny. "General Izimov, BDF."

Abdul nodded, "Abdul Suleimann, Reporters Without Borders." One of the aides, a Major, spluttered, "Your a reporter?" Abdul smiled, "As far as you know." Abdul turned to the General, "You can take over General, I'll be here for another few hours. The State Governor is in a bunker with the rest of the State's staff. I'll tell them to come up." The General nodded.

Abdul picked up a secure phone from the glass covered reception desk and keyed a button that said 'Shelter'. The soldier answered. Abdul said they could come up now.

A few minutes later the first of the tired and weary staff came up. A few more BDF soldiers had arrived, mostly medics and they were organizing them into groups as they came up from the bunker staircase. Abdul stood watching and Nikolas walked over to him from the crowd. They shook hands. Nikolas said, "Thank you...thank you." Abdul smiled, "Just doing my job Governor. The General here is in charge. Once Kuznetsin is safely outside the city limits a Government team should be sent in to help you." Nikolas looked slightly sad, "You're leaving?"

"Afraid so Governor, Kuznetsin has to be dealt with. He might be tried here in Moscow, but I doubt it." Abdul winked. Nikolas just nodded, he would be hard to catch and it would be dangerous to keep him locked up and on trial. He wasn't the sort of person who would make things easy for a newly established Hirgizstanian court in Moscow. The two men shooks hands once more and Abdul turned and dissappeared into the crowd.

Outside the palace smoke still hung in palls around the city. Shells of vehicles and tanks lay everywhere, intermingled with bodies. BDF and National Guard tanks, vehicles and men moved about purposefully, and the sound of battle still could be heard off in the east. Above the Winter Palace, on the virtually destroyed roof, stood the flagpole with a bullet-holed and burnt Hirgizstanian flag, still fluttering in the wind.

Kostorna Oblast, Three Days Later

Moscow had sure taken a beating. Abdul observed the destruction as he flew over the city in the National Guard UH-60M. Some buildings still burned and a few of Kuznetsin's troops had been left behind to harass, and they were still causing disturbances, especially in the suburbs.

The people of Moscow, were, for the most part, subdued. A lot had been killed. An early estimate put dead civilians at around 500, with twice as many wounded. The city's hospitals were full and the Medical Centres set up by the BDF and National Guard were also full. People were coming in with wounded from all over the place. Some greeted the Hirgizstanians as saviors, others literally spat at them. It would take a while for things to get back to any semblence of normalcy. Abdul was just glad he wouldn't be staying, but with a guy like Nikolas things would settle down eventually.

The helicopter was cold inside. One of the Crew Chief's had the left hand door open and was enjoying the freezing air. Abdul wasn't. But at least he had a big great-coat on. In fact he was wearing an RCR Army Guard's uniform, which consisted of a greyish-olive tunic and trousers, with a huge grey greatcoat and red lapels, with an olive coloured officer's cap.

The uniform had been easy to put together from supplies in the Kremlin, which was partly destroyed, but still standing. Surrendering offices had volunteered the whereabouts of Kuznetsin in return for the sparing of their lives, or so they thought when they surrendered the information.

Kuznetsin had fled the battlefield with an escort of Cherny Oriol tanks well before his forces began an ordered retreat. The Air National Guard had caught up with his retreating forces as they entered Yaroslavl Oblast, but by that time Kuznetsin was in a civilian car headed to his 'safe-house'/holiday home in Kostorna Oblast. It was guarded round the clock by RCR SpetsNaz dressed as regular Army Guards, and an Armoured Company of troops was less than two miles away. All in all he was a well guarded chap. He was probably, this very second, sitting and drinking vodka, ready to get into bed with his wife and forget about all the people he'd killed just three days ago.

The helicopter set Abdul down about three miles from the house, well out of ear and eye shot. Using his Palm Pilot he made up the three miles quickly, despite the thick forest and thin layer of snow. The house was, itself, dark except for a few dull lights here and there. But the area in front of it was lit up by floodlights and Guards, with dogs, patrolling. It was all very professional looking. Abdul had to avoid the area with the floodlights, his dark skin would give him away very easily, but if he managed to slip through the fence and come in behind the house he would be in shadow, and anyone patrolling wouldn't be able to see his face too well if he was stopped.

The house itself backed into a small rock and root strewn bank that led up to a forested area, and at the edge of the bank, in front of the treeline, sat the chain link fence. Abdul lay up against it, after having checked for sensors and mines, and plucked away with a pair of small wire cutters, pausing every now and then to check for noise. Nobody seemed to notice. He cut away a square at the bottom of the fence and quickly slid through.

The rocky area was easy to navigate, but he had to wait for a guard with a dog to pass by below, before picking his way down the rocks and tree roots. At the foot of the small bank he rolled into the shadow of the house and stood up. There was a back door on a small porch to his left. He moved slowly, the wooden boards in front of the door were creaking slightly. From his pocket he dug out an electric lock pick. He half expected the alarm to go off as he opened the freshly unlocked door, but there was silence, just the sound of his breathing and heart beat.

Faint, classical music came from somewhere above him and a TV murmur from somewhere in front. He stood tall, if any guards were in the house it would be best not to be seen skulking around like a burglar. Despite this Abdul dug his hands into his pockets and closed his right hand on the grip of his silenced SOCOM.

He exited the small kitchen that the back door had let him into. The richly decorated living room was dark, but Abdul could see it still tried too hard to look like a hunter's cabin. A bear rug lay on the middle of the floor, and the heads of various animals adorned the walls, probably fake. Kuznetsin was nearly 70!

There was a TV on somewhere on the ground floor, it was low but it was on, and the sound of quiet talking could be heard. There was a door adjoining the living room, with a TV glare coming out of it. The door was ajar to one side. Abdul silently walked across the room and stood in shadow, looking directly into the room with the TV. Two soldiers, AK's beside them, sat in the blue glow of the TV chatting quietly.

Abdul breathed deeply and turned around to head up the stairs. They were well made and didn't creek. The sound of classical music drowned out the low murmur of the TV as he ascended to the first floor.

Light poured out from one of the five rooms on the landing. He crept over and peered in. There was Kuznetsin, his back to the door, lolling his head in time with the sombre music. Abdul felt around in his left great coat pocket for the piano wire.

He crept up behind Kuznetsin and stood up, pulling the wire tight. He dropped it quickly around Kuznetsin's neck and pulled on the two plastic handles. It bit into the old man's neck. His hands shot up to the wire closing off his windpipe. He struggled for a few seconds before going limp and then he stopped trying to breathe. Abdul put the piano wire away and took out the pistol, grabbing a cushion from another chair to take away even more sound than the silencer could. He placed the cushion at the back of the old man's head and put the pistol to the cushion. He fired.

There was a slight whump as the cushion exploded. Kuznetsin's head jolted forward, the wound in the back of the head seeping blood and matted with fabric from the inside of the cushion. The empty round bounced soundlessly on the thick carpet. Abdul listened. Nothing stirred. He set the cushion down and put the gun away. He exited the room and walked down the hall, entering the master bedroom catiously, opening the door inch by inch. Kuznetsin's wife was sleeping, her breathing deep and steady. He took the pistol out again and grabbed another cushion from the chair at the side of the room on a small armchair, next to a vanity desk. Kuznetsin's wife was sleeping face down with her head cocked to the right on a pillow. Abdul placed the cushion lightly over her face and fired again. There was another whump and the ejected round fell onto the bed. Nothing stirred. The blood seeped out of the wound in the old woman's head as Abdul left the room as silently as he'd came in.

The two guards were still watching TV as he walked into the kitchen and crouched by the door. He looked at his watch. It was two minutes to midnight.

At midnight exactly there was a temendous series of explosions outside followed by the whoosh and roar of jet engines. An alarm went off somewhere. Abdul heard the two guards, their heavy feet thumping up the stairs, probably to get Kuznetsin and his wife out of the house. Fat lot of good that would do now!

He slipped out the back door, just as the Guard with the dog was sprinting around the corner toward the explosions way out in front of the house.

Abdul climbed carefully back up the rocky slope and through the hole in the fence, dissappearing into the dark forest.