NationStates Jolt Archive

“When you make your move,
I won’t hesitate;
If you take too long,
You could be too late;
This time I’m playing to win.”
John Farnham, Playing to Win (1984)



A person, blended into the dark grass and greenery, about twelve-hundred meters away from the airstrip, steadied an experimental Messian sniper rifle. An eye peered through its scope, the person completely relaxed.

Director Jason Foster, ruler of the Militia Enforced State, walked down towards the waiting, modest, entourage, as the figure in the grass pulled the trigger.

***

With the situation chaotic and communication lines hampered, power had unintentionally fallen to a street-smart young lad known simply as Timothy. His helicopter flew above Angelas-Fransico, capital of the Directorate of the Militia Enforced State. “I tried to warn them,” said Timothy, a Farminan and a leading member of Directorate government; looking down as hundreds of machine guns chattered all at once.

The rebels were going to take the city; there was no question of that. Timothy had tried to arrange the evacuation of as many people loyal to the government as possible; he wished he could have moved faster. The question was whether the Directorate could retake the cities.

“Mister Timothy sir,” said one of the intel officers on the plane, “We’ve now also lost control of Varsity, New Darius and Norrah. Fighting is heavy in Dylaria City, but the local commanders believe they shall soon gain the upper hand.”

“Hooray,” said Timothy sarcastically, his muscular right arm stinging, “The Directorate will have a grand domain from the west of Dylaria City to the east of it. Tell the Farminan military to give us the help it offered.”

“They’re refusing,” said the intel officer, hoping Timothy wasn’t someone who shot messengers, “The Farminans won’t do anything without the explicit approval of President Palmer, who is currently in bed sleeping like a baby.”

“We’d better find how many Directors escaped the carnage,” said Timothy grimly, as he rubbed the bandage over his wound, “We need to regroup and take every city one by one. The Directorate will prevail!”

***

President James Palmer was ready for another day running the Democratic Republic of Farmina. The sun was shining brightly and the birds chirped as though it were mid-spring instead of autumn. The sound of Nozick and Hayek (Palmer’s cats) racing recklessly through the house created a sense of fun in the old manor. Ille de Moree was Palmer’s favourite country estate; the world always seemed so alive there, a place where nature and a more sedate time violently clashed with Palmer’s normal urbane and contemporary lifestyle.

As he sat down at the long (and very expensive) oak dinner table, the two pieces of toast that awaited him reminded him that the Parliament still considered the country at war and refused to lift wartime economic controls, particularly rationing. The main group in Parliament responsible for that was the Moralists; led by Tobias Grey, a man who was proving to be an incredible political nuisance.

“The paper sir,” said Gina, Palmer’s personal secretary, handing it to the President, “I think you will want to see the cover story.”

Palmer unfolded the paper and there it was: a massive photo of smoke billowing from Angelas-Francisco, the capital of the Militia Enforced State. The headline screamed “OPEN REVOLT.”

“Why wasn’t I told about this?” demanded Palmer.

“By the time we received the news, you were asleep sir,” said Gina.

“You should have woken me,” hissed Palmer furiously, reading the article, “We were preparing for this. Our forces have been moving into position to crush anything that threatens Snyder’s regime.”

Gina could have insisted she was trying to respect Palmer’s privacy in his own chambers, not to mention prevent the unpleasant result of potentially waking him to a bad mood, but accurate answers were best avoided.

Despite Farmina and the Militia Enforced State still technically being at war, James Palmer believed that Director Jason Snyder was firmly in his pocket and hence tried to prevent major accidents befalling the regime (minor accidents kept Snyder dependent, and thus were welcomed, or even encouraged). Director Snyder however had the opposite view, believing James Palmer was in fact in his pocket and it was the Palmer Presidency who relied on the Messian dictatorship for their continued survival. Neither view had become apparent to the other, a major factor in keeping the war at an official level that didn’t involve throwing bombs at each other.

Rather than debate the past, Gina continued to brief him, “The military says they can’t do anything till tomorrow morning Messian time anyway. Apparently it’s hard to see rebels at night and we might unintentionally bombard the wrong team. And the Parliament has recalled you to Verica; they want their voice heard on the matter.”

When she said ‘Parliament’, she might as well have said ‘the Parliament’s main powerbroker’- the indomitable Tobias Grey.

Palmer picked up a piece of toast, reading aloud from the paper, “The people who have so long been brutally suppressed now openly take up arms against their leadership. It is the duty of President Palmer to continue to prosecute the war against the Militia Enforced State and defeat the oppressive Snyder regime, to give the Messian people the freedom they crave.”

“As though written by Tobias Grey himself,” said Gina, knowing all too well Tobias Grey was a fire-breathing democrat.

“No,” sighed Palmer, “That thorn called Grey would be more aggressive and poetic at the same time. I’m not saying he isn’t responsible for this trash; only that he didn’t write it personally. In fact I bet he had it written and waiting before this latest rebellion kicked off.”

Noticing Palmer wasn’t eating the toast and simply holding it, Gina grabbed the second piece, “I’ve organized a plane, to leave in half an hour for Verica, you can confront Grey there.”

“Damn it, damn it, damn it,” said Palmer, banging the table, dropping his toast, “If everything had gone to plan; Snyder would be now kissing my boots for saving his butt.”

Jamie sighed; plans had a habit of falling apart. Ask Justinian the Fallen, Daniel Rickhart or even Tobias Grey. The anger now no longer obvious, but visible to those who knew the signs, “Thank you for your help Gina,” he nodded. “Send that new guard up to my room. I’d like to brief him personally.”

“Jamie, he is only sixteen,” said Gina, who received a glare causing her to immediately add, “I’ll arrange it immediately, sir.”

Jamie Palmer turned his attention to the paper as Gina hurried off to her duties. Nothing grabbed his attention (or was given as much coverage) as the reports of rebellion. Maps of the Militia Enforced State made it look as though the country had come down in a bad rash. Pushing the paper aside, Palmer stood up leaving the toast uneaten. Something tastier would satisfy his appetite…

***

President Palmer entered the Parliamentary Chamber with caution. Everyone was waiting on him; it was a long held formality. The Moralists occupied the opposite side of the Parliamentary Chamber to his own Liberal colleagues. Making his way to the front, Palmer spotted the leader of the Moralists, Tobias Grey, and glared at him. “What is he planning?” Palmer’s thoughts were written across his face as clear as day. In contrast, Tobias Grey’s expression was the perfect poker face.

Looking at Tobias Grey in the wrong light could be deceiving. Grey was short, mid forties and significantly overweight. The overweight politician was easy to caricature as a jolly fat man, prone to drinking, smoking and gambling. Seeing him in Parliament now, Palmer could see how inaccurate the caricature was. His clothes were well tailored, making his excess weight look like eminence and stature. Tobias Grey spoke with a voice and charisma that people listened to. A master of poker table, Tobias Grey also had the perfect poker face, a valuable asset in politics. Grey though not a man physically capable given his large mass; he was a political juggernaut, trouncing all his opponents in turn. It was the ambitious Grey who had forced the mighty Justinian into exile, the once untouchable Boy-Emperor.

President Palmer reached his lectern and observed Tobias Grey sat confidently, but his expression gave few other clues. The President spoke in firm tone, trying to ignore the gossiping in the Moralist ranks, “Will the Member for South Verica explain why the Parliament summoned me here?”

Tobias Grey stood up and walked the short distance over to the closest lectern slowly, his short legs allowing him to move no faster. His fat hands gripped the top of it as though using it to support his bulk. The man spoke in a level, loud voice, his chins of fat bouncing under his jaw, “The vile dictator, Jason Snyder launched an unprovoked attack against our beloved Republic. We brought him to Farmina to discuss a permanent treaty but he would not sign anything unless the Farminan people consented to his perpetual tyranny over the Messian people. What is President Palmer’s legacy with Snyder regime? Negotiations have stalled; no progress is made towards a peace this Parliament can accept. The President has wound down the war to a dead halt and promised assistance to crush those seeking freedom from the very regime we are at war with. This unacceptable, immoral and bordering on treason!”

That final line was delivered with more aggression, one of Tobias Grey’s fat hands slamming against his podium, the flesh rippling as it struck. “And is this all? No; I would dare suggest that our President has had inappropriate relations, of a sexual nature, with members of the Directorate regime, including Jason Snyder himself!”

That filled the chamber with gasps of horror; some natural (Farmina was a conservative society), but they were mostly prearranged for effect. Jamie Palmer slammed both fists into his own lecturn, “What evidence do you have to support this outrageous allegation?” he called back.

Tobias Grey continued on, ignoring Palmer’s question. Against Palmer, allegations of a sexual nature needed no evidence. The rumour mill tended to accept them with little scepticism, spreading and distorting relentlessly. The tabloids were more sympathetic to Tobias Grey; portraying a gentle and jolly fat man who had lost his wife yet persevered. Palmer was young, athletic and rich, so as a reward the media scorned him.

“I suggest that the Parliament use the power vested in it to replace Lord Palmer with a more suitable candidate for president,” said Grey, “One who will use the powers of the office with a greater respect for the freedoms that so many go with out.”

“And who should replace him?” yelled Jonathon Longwool, a moderate Liberal and one of Palmer’s backers.

Tobias Grey watched Palmer shake his head at the stupid question from his incompetent ally. Phillip Sullivan, a Moralist closely aligned to Tobias Grey stood up to answer the question as rehearsed, “I suggest Tobias Grey be reinstated as president. In these trying times, we need someone with a proven track record as well as being well received by the broad spectrum of the public.”

James Sarck, another prominent Moralist, stood up, just as planned, “I second the motion that Tobias Grey be reinstated as President and move it to vote.”

“All in favour of the motion raise your hand,” declared a protocol officer, although the actual vote tally was taken by computers in front of the seats.

James Palmer snarled; he knew Tobias Grey had the numbers from the get-go; he didn’t speak as hands were raised across the chamber.

“The motion carries,” declared the protocol officer as the last parliamentarians cast their votes, “Tobias Grey is hereby declared President of the Democratic Republic of Farmina.”

Jamie Palmer stepped back from the lectern in a reserved manner. Wondering if he should phone Snyder over the matter, he realised it would be one o’clock in the morning over in the Militia Enforced State and even if Snyder was awake he had fish closer to home that needed frying. Instead he politely retreated from the chamber to attend to constituency matters that he had fallen behind in dealing with.

President Grey remained standing, his voice brimming with prominence and assertiveness.
“The Farminan people must settle their accounts. Our relationship with the Militia Enforced State has been a long, twisted and hostile road. We are coming to the end of that road. They tried to destroy our Republic and have failed. Now we shall pay back the Militia Enforced State in full. This administration as of now resumes hostilities against the Messian dictatorship

We shall defeat this dictatorship. And it will not be a minor humiliation like the Second Arandior War; this time we shall truly smash them. We will not rest until we break them. This time we will be in at the death and in for the kill!”

The last sentence was shouted not spoken; and shouted to a furious applause (an applause that Grey had prearranged). The atmosphere that filled the chamber of jubilation in the face of death and destruction even caused some who wanted peace to join in the clapping and cheering. Tobias Grey simply sat down to the mighty roar, as Phillip Sullivan prepared to ram a series of war bills through the Parliament. Only now did the fat president grin. Removing a notepad and pen from his jacket pocket, he crossed out the top of his list “Palmer Presidency”. Next was “Trinity Island.”

***

The wind howled as Supreme Commander Varius Aricar looked out through the darkness towards Trinity Island. Intelligence said the defence batteries on the target stretch of coast were unmanned. In fact intelligence also suggested the Messian military had abandoned the island deciding it was indefensible. Much of the civilian population had also been evacuated. The Messians had suspected the Farminans might attack one day; and if not them, someone else equal to them. Varius Aricar was quite happy to prove that prophecy correct.

Farminan fleets were scattered all around the Militia Enforced State. The original reason was to help smash the rebellion. Any minute now, the Farminan leadership would be changing hands and the Farminans would be changing sides. The military leadership had been informed of side-swap beforehand and made preparations for an invasion of the Militia Enforced State when they were supposed to be preparing to support the government. If Palmer had known that the military was deliberately disobeying orders he would have…actually Aricar didn’t have a clue what Palmer would do.

The plan required careful and deliberate timing. It had been a day since the revolts opened; now the middle of the Messian night had arrived, the shield that would cloak the attack. The military would move against the Snyder regime at the same moment as Grey moved against Palmer. If Grey moved first; Snyder would gain precious time. The inflatable boats were already in the water; their marine crews rowing towards the eastern shore of Trinity Island. Once on the ground they would attempt to seize the unmanned coastal defences before pushing in land. If control of the defences was impossible, the Supreme Commander was happy to settle for obliteration. Automated defences were the only potential threat, but machines would be no match for Aricar’s logical and conservative mind; they would be methodically destroyed. The island would probably be in his hands without a casualty; but matters would have been different had the MES made a stand. Human opponents were creative and hence infinitely dangerous.

The move against Trinity would have been anticipated by the Messians (and there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about it), but Supreme Commander Aricar timed it with a second move he was sure the Messians wouldn’t anticipate.

***

Field Marshal Graham Salamander had fought the Messians in Alice and the Pass of Farmina. Now he would launch an attack against the Messian west coast with the help of, incredulously, a Messian. “When I proposed this attack,” said Salamander, “The Supreme Commander jumped at it. I assure you Colonel, we will give the MES a kick somewhere they won’t be anticipating.”

Colonel Richter nodded. “They suspect us to go after Trinity and then springboard onto the north coast. If it wasn’t for Mister Gleeson we would be.”

Salamander checked his pocket watch again. His landing vessels were faster and mechanical and thus were to leave slightly after Supreme Commander Aricar’s attack. “Begin lowering the boats,” he ordered

Colonel Richter picked up his communications device and sent the one word that explained everything, “Elverson.”

Soon after that one word, landing vessels could be heard hitting the water, packed with marines, infantry, tanks and infantry assault vehicles. As soon as Bill Gleeson gave his signal, the engines would commence and the motorised landing vessels would pour onto the Messian west coast; from where Field Marshal Salamander planned to do a great deal of damage.

“Arvincar,” bellowed the communications device.

“The bulk of the defences are down and the time is at hand,” ordered Salamander, “Gleeson has done his job. Initiate the attack Colonel.”

“Smack down,” said Richter clearly into his comms device and then he fell silent.

The landing boat engines began starting up; tens at a time. Richter looked over the bow of the Messian manufacture dreadnought that Salamander was using as his command vessel. The small boats were pouring toward the coast line. The dreadnought’s cannons were ready to deliver as soon as any resistance from the shore batteries became apparent. The entire fleet’s cannons were waiting for the exact same thing.

Jets on the two carriers in the battle group roared to life and took flight with the sole intention of destroying anything that could try to slow the strike inland and destroy the defences that Gleeson had failed to deal with, aided by the mass of Farminan naval weaponry (much of it ironically produced by the Militia Enforced State). Along with the two land offensives, every plane Farmina could lay its hands on was about to be thrown at the Militia Enforced State. Commander Kaider had been kind enough to detail the enemy infrastructure. Messian airbases were the prime target for this sea of fire; disabling the famed Messian airpower was a major priority.

“I think we might just pull if off. The Messians will be spread out all around the country, those not sent inland to retake the cities,” said Richter, “We might just pull it off.”

“Tonight they are asleep,” said Salamander, “But I fear that by tomorrow morning the Messians will be awake.”


OOC: Joint post with MES.

Office of the Minister of External Affairs, the Red Bailey, Arn-Maciska

"...have the Cabinet Secretary put the matter on the agenda. Next?"
"Notation from Farmina ma'am, it seems that the Palmer Presidency has been toppled by a vote of no-confidence."
"Have Ambassador Co'nor congratulate them. Next?"
"Not strictly external business, but the States-General convenes..."

**********

Official Communiqué
Classification: [closed]
From: [MEA(UIK)]
To: [Office of the President of the Democratic Republic of Farmina]
Subject: [Recognition]

To the President, Tobias Grey, of the Democratic Republic of Farmina, greetings.

I have the honour to inform you sir, that His Most Serene Majesty’s Government does formally recognise your new administration as the sole legitimate government of the Farmina, effective immediately, and warmly congratulates you on the formation of your new administration.

May your term of office be long and prosperous,

Lord the Tuísech Seamus mac Co’nor,
His Most Serene Majesty’s Ambassador to Democratic Republic of Farmina,
Ministry of External Affairs

From: Office of the President of Democratic Republic of Farmina
To: Ambassador Co’nor

We do humbly extend our thanks to the government of Macisikan for the quick recognition of our administration in the dark times that approach us in the fight against oppression and tyranny.

Tobias Grey
President of the Republic

A man in his late thirtes, in a grey camoflauged military uniform with a gray-ended flag on one sleeve, looked around the corner. He saw a few soldiers inside the main control center, with similar uniforms, except that their arm patches had flags in black and yellow, rather than black and gray. Some were looking for hostiles, while others were directing the Snyder Guard units attempting to hold the city of Francisco-Angelas. The man rolled back behind the wall, turned towards some other soldiers, gave a nod, then swung around the corner.

"Get down on the ground!"

A few soldiers swung around in suprise with their weapons aimed at them, but before they could even react, they collapsed on the ground full of wounds. The few that did listen to the former Force Commander's orders dropped their weapons and got down onto the floor. The men and women inside the control center, after the few second exchange, quickly also follow the man's orders. The former Force Commander quickly marched in, walked up to the senior commander who was lying on the floor, grabbed his pistol, then grabbed the man off the floor by the hair.

"Admiral Jacobson...I never would have guessed," the former Force Commander muttered.

"I hoped never to have seen your face again, Ackvick," Jacobson replied fearfully.

"Too late for that," Ackvick replied in a deeply angry tone. "Be thankful that I spare enough mercy to spare your life. But I'm sure that our court of law will be less...forgiving. Take him!"

Loyalist Messian soldiers walked up to the two men, and took Jacobson forcefully. "Not...not the Equal Punishment law! NO!"

As the man screamed as he was dragged away, Ackvick looked around the room, which had been since cleared of the officers. He saw a lot of Snyder's communication traffic links open. The most secure ones Ackvick could tell were already locked down, probably from the knowledge of their arrival. However, now that the central command was taken, their organization, at least at the moment, would be severely hampered.

Ackvick walked up to the master communications hub, made strictly for emergency broadcasts, and picked up the reciever. He set the communicator to broadcast to all communication sources, including media, international media, military, and Snyder's own codec, then pressed the transmitter.

"Today, as you probably are all aware, the time for the civil uprising against this illegitimate government is nigh." The sound of his troops behind Ackvick could barely be heard as they took over positions.

"For the past six months, you may have think we may have abandoned you. That is not the case. We have had assasinations, betrayals, captures, and terrorism inflicted on our cadre, and the rest of us had to go into hiding, for both our safety, and yours. But now...now is the time to come back, and make things right. For the system, which we all put a lot of trust into, seems to have failed us. Ultimately, it did, and for that, I personally take full responsibility for letting that madman into this cadre."

Ackvick paused for a moment, taking a breath. "Mistakes were done, but that is the best time to make changes. As soon as we take this country back, I will bring the democratic section back, and make the Force Commander system less crucial into the government's working, hopefully eliminating it eventually, as I originally planned. But in order to do this, we need to uproot the tyrancy of Snyder. Those working with him, here's your chance to get out. Fight for the right cause."

Ackvick made another pause to gather effect. "Those loyal to him, and choose to keep fighting, I will tell you this. Your time is up. I will be less forgiving to you Snyder's loyalists than ever before. Expect your punishments to be swift, just, and following traditional Messian law. You have 24 hours to throw down your arms and join the right side."

Ackvick cut the communique.

http://www.nationstates.net/images/flags/uploads/militia_enforced_state.jpg
Militia Enforced State
Official Communique
------------------------------------

Today, as you probably are all aware, the time for the civil uprising against this illegitimate government is nigh. For the past six months, you may have think we may have abandoned you. That is not the case. We have had assasinations, betrayals, captures, and terrorism inflicted on our cadre, and the rest of us had to go into hiding, for both our safety, and yours. But now...now is the time to come back, and make things right. For the system, which we all put a lot of trust into, seems to have failed us. Ultimately, it did, and for that, I personally take full responsibility for letting that madman into this cadre.

Mistakes were done, but that is the best time to make changes. As soon as we take this country back, I will bring the democratic section back, and make the Force Commander system less crucial into the government's working, as I originally planned. But in order to do this, we need to uproot the tyrancy of Snyder. Those working with him, here's your chance to get out. Fight for the right cause.

Those loyal to him, and choose to keep fighting, I will tell you this. Your time is up. I will be less forgiving to you Snyder's loyalists than ever before. Expect your punishments to be swift, just, and following traditional Messian law. You have 24 hours to throw down your arms and join the right side.

- Force Commander James Ackvick
Militia Enforced State

http://edf.tauniverse.com/MESMapSciren3.jpg

--------

In the quiet night, Lance Corporal Jessie Summers looked down towards the sea, inside the cockpit of her 16 inch XVB-219 Predator shore battery, which in militaristic terms, was the equivelent to a long range anti-shipping cannon. "We're in the middle of a rebellion, and we're sitting here, defending the coastline?" she said quietly over her local radio system.

"I know what you mean. Some days, I don't even know what that man is thinking," a man replied over the radio. "Honestly, I'm starting to wonder if we should have even followed his orders to defend this location."

A sudden beeping sound, as well as some flashing lights inside the woman's cockpit caught her attention. "I'm getting some movement detected on the short range radar," the woman stated. "Unidentified. Switching to FLIR."

"What the hell?" the man replied. "Geez, I take over Gleeson's shift for the night, and interesting things happen."

As the woman flipped on her FLIR, she gasps. "Uhh...go to alert status one. It looks like an invasion force. Can't tell identification from here, but if it's the Farminans, are we sure they aren't here for the insurgency?"

A moment later, the radio crackled alive. "This is Gleeson, to all defending units, units are friendly. Stand down."

At that moment, the alert status cancelled, and the turret that she sat in went back to roaming mode. She flipped to a private frequency. "I haven't been trusting Gleeson lately. His rather anti-Snyder comments make me wonder if he's working for them."

"Disobeying a direct order wouldn't be the best idea in the world," the man replied. "Besides, what if they are friendly?"

--------

The first motorised boat hit the coast. "Spread out," Lt Samuels ordered quietly as more boats hit the beach, "We want to bring these defences under our control with miminal fuss. Start by forming a perimeter for safe landings."

As more boats landed, more soldiers began to inflitrate their way through Gleeson's sector. Colonel Richter, the Field Marshal's adjudant soon landed and took direct control of the forces, "We move soon. Our airforce will begin pounding soon too. Perhaps they notice that Trinity is falling out of their hands. We are nearly in position; soon we will take complete control of the area."

Ten minutes later the Field Marshal himself was on the beach and took the personal liberty of giving the order, "Take them down."

Farminan soldiers stormed the manned defensive weapons in Gleeson's sector. "Stand down, stand down," yelled the Farminans with fury. Not only with fury but with weapons to support their orders.

--------

"I surrender!" the woman yelled.

"Take her away," said Lt Samuels, not mentioning exactly where to take her. The XII Construction Corps was supposed to be building a prisoner of war camp; but it wouldn't have even started building, let alone finished. With the Command Centre cleared Field Marshal Sensor and his adjudant entered not long after his engineers. Taking over the systems wouldn't be perfectly easy; but with Gleeson's help it wouldn't be too hard.

"We won't be using this as my command post," said Salamander, "Its too obvious. The tents will do for now, until we have a handful of hotels under our control."

"A wise decision sir," said Richter, "If we stay close to the coast we can use our ships as heavy artillery."

"For now perhaps," said Salamander, "But the longer the we cling to the coast, the faster the Messians can build up their defences around Sciren."

"I thought you planned to attack further north, misdirection you called it," said Colonel Richter.

"It is the major supply center in the region," sighed Salamander, "Thus my superiors are jumping up and down demanding we deprive the Messians of it. There is some sense to it; but the Messians need it and will defend it as such. For now I want the landing area cleared and anti-aircraft guns brought right up to the front. The Messians are bound to start throwing jets at us and I want to catch them out."

"Immediately sir," said Richter saluting before walking off.

"Sir we have control of the system," said one of the engineers.

"Good," said Salamander, "Target the long range cannon gun to the south."

Then he pressed a button on his communicator, "Target six. All weapons to target six."

He pressed a second button, "Target eight. All weapons to target eight."

He looked at his watch. Soon it would sound like every cannon and rocket carrying plane in the world would open up on the two neighbouring long range guns. Farminans don't use a logical numbering system; they try to confuse the enemy.

--------

A man in his fourty's looked down the long range scope of his Preadator cannon, after recieving an urgent, short message from his neighbouring sector. He flipped on his radio. "Attention all units. We are being invaded. Code White, I repeat, Code White. This is not a drill. Fire at will."

He then rotated his massive turret, with the other defensive guns, and aimed to fire, just in time to see what appeared to be a bazzilion weapon flares lighting up the night.

"Fire, damnit! FIRE!"

A moment, a near dozen shells flew towards the landing forces, and the ships where the flares came from. Shells started landing in and around the landing vessels, the screams quick and hard to hear over the roar. The shells and missiles loyal to the Republic though were far greater in number; especially when combined with the naval submarines and aircrafy flying overhead, oblivious to the nearby anti-air sites just outside of range.

As the shells streaked down, the man cringed. "For the Directorate!" he yelled courageously, though unheard as the entire beachhead was leveled for a new military development, out of all probability.

On the continent the fighting had not been a hard slog; but it was no holiday. Supreme Commander Varius Aricar chuckled at how easy landing on Trinity had been. There were no Messian soldiers and very few Messian civilians. Intelligence reports observing a major evacuation of Trinity appeared to have been an understatement. Automated defences continued to function; but were being disabled quickly.

Aricar’s men had been holding wagers to see who could be most creative in deactivating an autogun. Standard procedure was simply to find the wiring to the autogun and drain its power. Several soldiers had placed heated dummies near autoguns (popguns according to the Messians) to drain the weapons of bullets. Aricar had quickly canned the competition after an immature corporal caught a bullet in the arm and ordered the autoguns be powered down according to procedure.

The target of the Trinity Airstrip had ‘fallen’ quickly and was now covered with military engineers and construction crews (as well as finding itself home to Aricar’s command tent). The engineers were working frantically to disable the little metal obstacles that popped out the runway to interfere with non Messian aircraft. The construction crews were working equally as frantically to expand the airfield to support Farmina’s massive desire for air travel as well as build up the air defences. The only other airfields Farmina had in the region were called carriers; which simply were not enough. Some of the construction crews were working on new ports to support the Farminan navy after the Messians had destroyed the old ones in the evacuation. This however was secondary to the airfield effort.

Aricar walked out his tent and looked up to the sky. The huge mass of fighters and bombers flew on towards the Militia Enforced State. Five thousand 12-11 stealth fighters took the lead, with their long range missiles ready to destroy targets beyond the pilot’s sight to slice through the enemy fighters when they thought the real fight was still a minute away. These were supported by ten thousand XG-32 Swarmers that were designed by the Messians; which in turn protected four thousand XB-91 fighter-bombers.

The intention: to smash Messian airpower early in the war. Messian airbases and airfields had been targeted, along with air defences on the Farminan routes. Targets had been identified using the list supplied by Commander Kaider and crosschecked using satellite. Hundreds of long range missiles were already being hurled from submarines and other naval vessels towards mobile phone towers, to prevent Snyder detecting the stealth aircraft when they approached the Militia Enforced State.

If everything went to plan; Messian airpower would be massively reduced in the short term and somewhat reduced in the long term. If everything didn’t go to plan…well there was always the army and the navy.

Looking around Aricar saw the construction was going better than planned. There was a lot of anti-air batteries ready for the anticipated Messian counter attack. A lot of planes would go down in flaming ruins.

The aircraft sailed towards their targets all over the Militia Enforced State, bombs and missiles ready to make ruin to their targets. There were more than enough bombs and missiles; so Farmina could use them with far more haste than her opponent

Down below, the 2nd, 9th and 13th Anti-Air battalion sat and waited. They had been waiting since the evacuation of Trinity; this whole setup was planned in the backstab of Palmer, or some major ‘failure’ in Farminan politics. Some of them were asleep, while a few others kept watch at the quite peaceful Messian mountainous winter sky. Battalion commander Riker Jicorsky looked up in the air from his modified Fury MKI anti-air tank, equipped with an array of .50 cal gattling guns, and one massive 30mm rotary flak cannon. He could hear the faint sounds of what sounded like jet, then Messian PDE engines from the sky above. He looked at his binoculars as one of his co-horts drank some coffee. He took a sip and spat it out. “This coffee tastes like shit!” the Lieutenant said, disgusted

“Ah, shut your trap. You know that rational Coffee tastes like diesel fuel,” the tank’s commander said, chuckling, “Here, have some of this Brandy. I promise it isn't more than a century old!”

The Lieutenant smiled, “Thanks, Joyce.”

As the officer poured his Brandy into the Lieutenant’s coffee mug, the Battalion Commander turned around. “Hey, guys you better take a look at this,” he said, "”I’m seeing unidentified and Messian aircraft up high.”

***

“This is northern command,” said a Farminan female, “We are picking up numerous targets in Sector 8. Swarmers are ordered to engage at will.”

That targets that hadn’t been detected would be more troublesome, and Lt Shar knew it. An order however was an order. The Swarmers had been armed with Farminan make missiles, built to destroy things well out of the line of sight.

“Switching scans to detect ground targets. Selecting targets,” said Lt Shar, as he activated two missiles, one under each wing, “Locked. Firing.”

***

“What are those planes? And why are Messian planes escorting them...?” the tank commander asked to himself. The Batallion Commander used the tank's enhanced scoping and targeting system to look at one of the Messian fighters. “Hey...that’s...Farminan markings! What the hell?”

The Lieutenant again spat out his drink, though this time it sure wasn't the drink's fault. “Excuse me?” he shot up to look at the scopes, pushing the Battalion Commander aside. He noticed the same markings, then could see a missile flash. “Ah hell! We're under attack!”

The Battalion Commander quickly turned back, “What are you waiting for? Start firing!” he then got onto the radio and started barking orders, as the crew reactivated the primary functions of the unit, and turned his turret towards the incoming swarm, and activating the point defense Gatling turrets.

***

“All air units,” warned the northern command, “We have Sector 8 lighting up like a Christmas tree. All units are to deliver maximum destruction on targets.”

“That’s a useful order,” muttered Lt Shar, as a plane on his left exploded.

Shar targeted another missile as he ordered, “Wing B commence climb.”

***

“Yep, they're definitely hostile!” Jicorsky yelled as more missiles flew downwards. “All units! Continue firing! Use firing protocol twenty-nine! Activate anti-missile defenses immediately!”

A moment later, what appeared to be a wall of massive tracer fire appeared in front of the enemy aircraft wave, detonating a slightly random intervals, putting up a wall of Flak in front of them. Meanwhile, the defensive gattling guns fired rapidly towards the incoming missiles. Crossfire between the guns was fairly common, as they explode the missiles as they came down.

“Damnit guys, stop the crossfire! We need to conserve ammunition!” Jicorsky yelled, “Activate only a third of the anti-missile shield temporarily!”

***


Lt Shar reached the top of his climb and then began a desent releasing another missile at the Messians. Planes were going down in flames; but enough Messians were going up in flames to make up for it. 12-11s and the fighter-bombers were also releasing hellfire on the Messians. Something occurred to Shar; the Messians were trying to conserve munitions. It also occurred to Northern Command, “Destroy all Messian positions in Sector 8.”

***

“Oh hell!” the tank commander yelled as a Firespray anti-air tank exploded next to them, showering shrapnel that barely passed their heads. Jicorsky ducked down. “All units! Resume full anti-missile systems! They’re blasting us like flies now! Start focusing your fire on the Swarmers, immediately! They got anti-ground missiles on those suckers!”

The turret rotated again, and fired another volley of rounds, in conjunction with close to two thousand separate flak tanks in the battalion. “All Phlanax's, initiate firing pattern Delta four!”

A moment later, what seemed to be a massive wave of anti-air missiles streaked from the Phlanax anti-air missile tanks on the ground.

***


Captain Weiss almost fell out of bed when the air-raid siren blasted inside his dormatory. “Another false alarm..? Have they fixed the damn thing?” the man muttered, as he got up to look out the window from his room of the NORAD Airbase and Deployment Center, which was the MES’s primary airbase. Soon, he stood corrected; “All units! This is not a drill! Scramble! Scramble! Scramble!”

“Ah...damn,” Weiss muttered, “Alright, everyone! Saddle up!”

***

“This is Northern Command,” warned the female voice, “We have incoming bogies. All stealth craft break off to engage enemy units.”

The Swarmer wasn’t a stealth craft, but Lt Shar planned to break off too. He was down to his last two anti-ground missiles. “Targets locked,” he whispered, “Firing.”

The final two missiles departed to deliver death at foul range as more Farminan jets crashed into the country side.

The 12-11s vanished into the distance. “This is Northern Command,” said the female voice, “We are selecting targets. Missiles will be released in ten seconds.”

The voice was correct. The 12-11s lost sight of their missiles very quickly as two were launched at each Messian aircraft; one on the left, one on the right; just to make evasion more difficult.

Out of nowhere a Messian missile flew at Lt Shar. That was the last thing the Farminan pilot ever realised.

***

A swarm of three dozen XG-32 Swarmer aircraft from Norrah were first at the scene, racing to the known target area. One pilot watched her radar, noticing the enemy aircraft a fair distance away. Suddenly, she got a mass missile warning from nowhere. “What the hell?!” she yelled as the missiles flew at them at high speed. “Base! Stealth un...!”

Her fighter was enveloped in flames as the other planes were pummled into scrap metal.

The 12-11s continued their destructive engagement as the Swarmers started moving to support them in the push towards the Messian airfields. Every Messian airfield that turned to rubble was another target achieved.

***

Soon, the majority of the entire flight compliment of NORAD airbase was up, with close to 1,000 XG-99 Vengeance fighters, most of them fresh out of the factory from its new production run, another 1,000 XG-32 Swarmer fighters, and to compliment their counterattack, their XG-49 Nighthawk night fighters, which were developed for anti-stealth and night fighting capabilities.

Captain Weiss flipped a few switches to listen into the Comms chatter. One part caught his ear: “Base! Stealth un...!” He flipped his own comms. “All units! Switch radar scanning mode to wind-shear radar." He flipped a switch, which changed his radar to scan for pressure waves from probable stealth aircraft. Fairly recently discovered, stealth’s were notorious for instability due to their awkward shapes for stealth. This should work, “Got em’. All units, fire on my mark...fire.”

Suddenly, a large swarm of missiles launched from the thousands of aircraft towards the enemy, though some missiles seemed confused trying to find said aircraft.

***

Screens in Northern Command must have been going crazy as the two sides trades thousands of missiles at long distance. The Swarmers were climbing while the 12-11’s concentrated on the enemy flanks, both while engaging in evasive maneuvers. Missiles were slamming into each other mid-flight as planes fell to the ground in a multiple pieces.

Capt. Weiss pulled four G's as he turned his fighter hard upwards, firing his twin-link cannons, and shooting down another fighter. He could see the incoming flank attack from ground-air linked radar on his central display. “All units! We’re about to get flanked. Alpha, break when able, and prepare for the splinter force. Delta, Gamma, tie them up. Beta, engage the incoming bombers. Engage!”

***

Capt Weiss woke up. It was all a bad dream. The nightmare he had every night. The room was incredibly blurry, perhaps he was unwell. There was a distinct smell of disinfectant in the room as he tried to move his hand up to his face, but for some reason he couldn’t…

Day one for the occupation of Trinity. Supreme Commander Aricar wondered what had possessed him to establish his command post at Trinity Airstrip. He was convinced that between the massive construction effort, furious repairs and the continual flow of aircraft had made his command center the noisiest place on terra.

“It’s a disgrace,” yelled Aricar, throwing the report at Air Marshal Downer, “You won’t supposed to draw with the Messians. You were supposed to cripple their air capacity.”

“Lord Commander,” said the Air Marshal firmly, “The Messians were not simply going to role over. In many ways a draw is like a victory. The Messians have had their launch capacity hurt. Furthermore they can afford draws even less than us. They are facing a massive rebellion, a lower population and have a industrial capacity.”

“Do not make excuses for this failure. You have wasted our element of surprise. As punishment for drawing,” said Aricar, making ‘drawing’ sound worse than ‘losing’, “You shall personally report to Tobias Grey on the order of the battle.”

Once the bad news was out of the way, Aricar planned to call Tobias Grey and report on the conquest of Trinity, something to keep the head of the military in the good books for a few hours.

With that Downer left silently as a cement mixer rolled past Aricar’s tent. Aricar felt temped to check that the construction teams hadn’t decided to turn all of Trinity into one giant airport. After one day, it looked like that was exactly what would happen. For that reason he decided to spend the day inspecting Trinity City, the only civilian center of worth on the occupied island.

Trinity City looked like a ghost town. Much of its population had fled; especially the most vehemently patriotic. That didn’t mean those that were left loved Farmina. The Messians struck Aricar as quietly seething. They didn’t want the Farminans on their island, but they seemed intelligent enough to keep their mouths shut and their hands where you could see them.

As he explored it there was a Messian holding a grudge against just about everyone; you could tell even when people were quiet that they were angry. A few Messians were angry with Snyder for abandoning their homeland without a fight. Other Messians were annoyed with the Force Commanders for allowing Snyder to come to power, which in turn saw Trinity occupied by Farminans. Aricar thought he heard one cursing President Palmer for invading Trinity Island. The propaganda services would soon correct the woman.

The propaganda services via posters, newspapers, radio, film and television were already at work explaining how Tobias Grey benevolently liberated Trinity from the cruel grip of military dictatorship. There were some people on Trinity who didn’t need Snyder’s tyranny explained to them; these few already believed it. The people left on Trinity were more likely to be opposed to Snyder, or have a special attachment to the island. The occupied were self selecting, which had its advantages (although it also meant those most loyal to Snyder had fled back to his domain).

News reports detailed the cruelty of the Snyder regime and played up how Snyder had abandoned Trinity “for personal consolidation of his crumbling empire.” Pictures of Snyder overemphasized his facial features, just slightly, distorting him to make him unpleasant. Attention was paid to the revolts that had sprung up in so many Messian urban centers “in support of Tobias Grey’s continuing liberation effort.” The air offensive was being reported as a “brave attack in the name of freedom smashing the infrastructure of tyranny.”

The first posters to go up however didn’t involve winning over the Messians or making Snyder look like a villain from a film, but conveying a simple message, “Saboteurs will be shot.” The locals couldn’t complain they weren’t warned. They were under military occupation and would have to take everything that goes with it. Occupation reduced them to a strategic consideration for Farmina and still viewed as politically part of the MES.

Farminan officials were taking over the planned Trinity economy. It had always required administrators and so the Republic would do so to keep the locals feeling comfortable. The credit was still legal currency, but Aricar was sure people were now just as happy to take Farminan money, if not happier, as rumor of a pending Messian economic collapse spread. The Farminan ration system would soon incorporate Trinity, as the island’s production was molded to aid the war effort.

His phone rang about lunch time. The President himself was calling in the Farminan morning. “Lord President…”

“I don’t give you planes to throw away,” warned Tobias Grey.

“That wasn’t my fault,” insisted Aricar.

“Perhaps not,” said Tobias Grey, “But I think Salamander would make a fine Supreme Commander.”

Aricar winced, “We have captured Trinity and a strip of land west of Sciren. Trinity is safe enough for you to visit.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Tobias responded, his voice mannered, masking his fury at the lost chance of a quick victory, “If you didn’t have that land, you would be sweeping streets not commanding armies.”

The line then went dead.

The National State
INVASION! MES GOES TO WAR!

By Jack Wilbinson
The National State

Today, for the first time since the great war, our homeland, is under attack. Reports are scattered, but apparently, the west coast near Sciren, as well as Trinity island and the northeastern homeland, is under attack by the disgraceful Farminans. On an unprovoked attack after an initial ceasefire, they have sent invasion fleets to the Militia Enforced State.

Snyder has not yet been reached for comment, however, the Snyder Guard bureau has officially declared an invasion is occuring, and that all National Guard units, as well as all able-bodied men and women from enlistment age to immediately report to duty.

Evacuation orders have been sent to Sciren. If you are from the Sciren area, you are to immediately evacuate. Please move to the nearest emergency relocation center for information. Please turn to Page 4 for complete listings of the evacuation orders

More to come...

***

“What the hell is this?!” Snyder yelled into the communicator, as he slammed a copy of the national paper down onto the desk in front of him. “Palmer, what the hell happened to ‘crushing the rebellion’?!”

“Tobias Grey was one move ahead of us,” said Palmer, his words covering hundreds dead and more to join them.

“And you didn’t decide to tell me that Tobias came back into power?! Give me the chance to deploy our entire forces in the defense of my homeland?!” responded Snyder.

Snyder was furious; no one was in the room, but if there were, they would be able to see his beet red face, veins popping out of his forehead.

“You would have had only minutes,” said Palmer, before adding, “And why should I risk my neck for a sinking ship. Say goodbye to Timothy for me.”

Snyder was most unimpressed when these brief words were followed by the sound of Palmer hanging up.

“Pal...!” Snyder yelled, “God damn you!!”

He attempted to redial the number. The phone that Palmer used to contact Snyder made no attempt to accept the incoming call; leaving Snyder with an ‘engaged’ tone. Snyder hung up the phone, did a deep sigh, then walked out of the door. Leaving the APC, he looked around to see the smoke that damaged the NORAD airstrip. It was quite minor compared to the two main strips, but nevertheless, it would severely damage his capacity to hold his nation together.

“How bad is it Jason?” asked Timothy, walking over after talking to one of the engineers, “Who is still aligned with us?”

“We’re on our own,” Snyder replied, grimly, “Oh, and Palmer more or less said that he’ll never be seeing you again.”

“I had come to a similar conclusion when I first heard of the attacks,” said Timothy, “I doubt I can ever leave now. But to business, what is being done?”

Snyder turned to him, snappishly, “That’s your job, isn’t it? What IS being done?”

Rather than argue with the dictator, Timothy kept to the facts, “I’ve been building up forces around several major urban centers to attempt to recapture them from the rebels. However with the invasion; all our planning may be on the scrap heap.”

Since it had less than 72 hours since the rebellion started “all” the planning was probably not a huge amount.

Snyder sighed, “Alright, it’s time to speak to the local media.”

***

Snyder sat down in the mobile media office that he had set up. Temporarily, he was going to meet who he could actually contact through the media hub’s immense teleconferencing capabilities. Timothy sat at a chair near him.

“Alright, we're being invaded by the Grod’s, and having a revolution. We don't have a lot of time to plan, so what are our plans?”

“Our forces are scarce,” said Timothy mastering understatement, “Perhaps concentrating retaking the capital will give the rebels a wobble, even if it won't break them.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Director Reagan Hamilton said over a poor quality transmission, “What about enacting law 94?”

Timothy started counting on his fingers, then stopped, “Which is?”

“The Final Solution to rebellion,” Snyder replied, “Basically, anyone who opposes the government, is to be shot on sight.”

“That seems reasonable enough,” said Timothy, “And what about the Farminans? I think they might lick their wounds for a time; but not forever.”

“We can't attack Trinity directly,” Director Tia Norris replied. “We would lose any attack forces we send that way. I think what we just did, a defensive staging action, we can force them to withdrawal from the war from casualties along. They may be Grod’s, but they surely aren’t dumb.”

“When did we start calling ‘them’ Grod’s?" asked Timothy, “And why?”

“Oh, just an old Messian slang ever since the Arandior war,” Snyder replied, “It’s a Messian-made insult, where Grod’s stand for Grey-God's, in how they believe that the Grey lineage is holy.”

“And in our taste of hating everything of what religion stands for,” Reagan continued, “We came up with this short nickname to be able to identify their cult-like followings to such a fanatical, and crazy religion.”

Timothy wasn’t sure the Messians understood the Farminan religion correctly, but decided it best not to correct them, “I assume we are concentrating our defensive efforts in that southern city...Sciren.”

“Ground units, and ground-pounding aircraft, yes,” Snyder replied, “However, we do have anti-air and some tank units covering the northeast.”

“If they take Sciren, where will we try to halt their advance?” asked Timothy.

“Highly mobile units will cover the inter-city exchanges,” Tia replied, “That will buy us time, and perhaps catch them by surprise; they after all only expect us to have slower and heavier tanks than they do.”

“Do they?” said Timothy, with an elaborate shrug, “Well it seems everything is under control.”

“It would be,” Snyder replied, “If it weren’t for this damned rebell...”

He then paused, “I...I think I just had a brilliant idea.”

Timothy avoided saying “Oh dear” and instead said, “Perhaps it would be more use, if you shared it with the rest of us.”

Snyder smiled, “You know the saying, how two bitter enemies can become allies in the time when a greater enemy is at hand. That threaten them both?”

“I doubt the rebellion and the invasion a mere coincidences,” said Timothy, “Surely the democrats and the commanders and Farminans have collaborated.”

“You never know,” Snyder replied, “But I do know is that James would never allow any nation to invade his home turf. He’s too patriotic and proud to let it happen. He would likely never let the Farminans get their own way.”

“And you will simply dispose of the Commander’s afterwards,” smirked Timothy.

“Exactly,” Snyder replied, “And if they refuse, I do have a plan B which you might hate me initially for, but love me for later.”

“You’re the boss,” said Timothy.

“I didn’t say yes, yet,” Snyder replied, “Thoughts?”

“I think they suspect we will cheat them,” said Timothy, deciding at this moment it was best to be honest, “Thus they might only accept if they know they can cheat us. Simply put I doubt they’d accept, and if they do accept, we probably don’t want them to.”

“It’s catch 22,” Hamilton replied, “Spend half the troops quelling an uprising, or get them to work for us and deal with the aftermath later, or con-currently.”

“Do you think we have much choice?” Tia asked the advisor.

“If we can cause the rebellion to dissolve rather than capture each city one by one,” said Timothy, “There will still be a cost; but it will be less.”

“Then we better start,” Snyder replied, “Unless you had any brilliant ideas?”

Silence told Snyder to continue. “Then we better move now,: Snyder replied. :Hamilton, prepare our new tanks for deployment, and put them into position by Sciren. Tia, work with reorganizing the air defenses. Timothy, you will defend Sciren until Hamilton can bring his tanks into position. I will deal with the rebellion...personally. You have your orders. Dismissed!”

Snyder went back into his private communications suite, and dialed his communicator to Rickhart’s portable, hidden device.

Rickhart was alone, survey the rebel-held Angelas-Fransico he had helped capture, “Milord, is that you?”

“Stop the milord crap,” Snyder said angrily, “You’re crossing the line! The Farminans are invading, and you’re leading a rebellion! You have some damned good explaining to do!"

“It was preferable to hanging on the end of a noose,” sniped Rickhart, “Some might argue I would be foolish to stick with a sinking ship.”

That was a veiled threat to Snyder; warning him he didn’t have nearly so many cards now and if played them poorly he could lose Rickhart too.

“Then what the hell do you want me to do?” Snyder said, exasperated.

“We shall see what we can salvage,” said Rickhart calmly, his statement already accepting the Snyder Directorate would face losses.

Snyder sighed, “We can salvage this situation if we can make this rebellion realise that no matter who wins the rebellion, we'll be under Farminan rule, which would be a bad case scenario for everyone.”

“I doubt Foster believes the Farminans are coming to rule you,” said Rickhart, pausing, “But that doesn’t mean an alliance is unfeasible.”

“Well, whatever the case,” Snyder replied, “It has to be fast. They’re attacking from two fronts, one I didn’t even expect. That side has a land invasion, and with the military and my guard units in a civil war against one another, they’re gaining an unprecedented advantage. Before you know it, you’ll be arrested and hung by Tobias himself.”

“The Commanders will require their power be firmly cemented,” said Rickhart, “And they will probably demand so much power as to be assured to keep you in your box.”

“...And you firmly expect Tobias to keep either governmental system alive?” Snyder replied, scoffing.

“No,” said Rickhart, “But the Commanders will want to be a secure party to any alliance. They do not wish to be the rag doll you dispose of after the war; regardless of victory or defeat.”

“Whatever the case, we need to stop this war,” Snyder replied. “I doubt that Ackvick would ever agree with such an idea of being just an elected politician. He’s like me in many ways. He’s just not as smart.”

“I will do what I can,” said Rickhart, “But the Commanders may need some persuasion. Angelas-Francisico in their hands has made them confident.”
“I was hoping to get a communications link directly. Can you give me that codec frequency?”

“I suggest we let them think it was their idea,” interjected Rickhart, “They will like it better that way.”

“Do they even know what’s going on?” Snyder inquired.

“Foster was informed by Tobias Grey of the President’s plan,” said Rickhart.

“He what?!” Snyder boomed.

“Foster knew that Grey planned to invade Trinity and eventually the mainland,” said Rickhart, “Who he told before the invasion, I’m not sure.”

Snyder sat there in stunned silence, “So who’s idea was it?”

“Tobias Grey planned it all,” said Rickhart.

“That fool...” Snyder replied, “He’ll ruin us all. Alright, do what you can to get me to speak to them.”

“Weakening their hand might make them less uppity,” said Rickhart, “Angelas-Francisco has been the diamond in their crown. Take the capital out of their hands. It will be a massive psychological blow; enough to make them talk.”

“That city’s huge, and right now my forces are stretched to the limit. How do you think I should do it?” Snyder mused.

“You’re going to have to scrap the bottom of the barrel,” admitted Rickhart, “But the Farminans are building up rather than attacking and the rebels don’t dare exit the cities they’ve captured as they'll be out in the open.”

“What about taking over the central command center? Just holding that should shake their faith long enough,” Snyder asked, “That’s probably their current headquarters, and where they'll be most focused.”

“You will still need to go through the city,” said Rickhart, “The Commanders have anti-air units it you plan a drop. The principle however is correct.”

“Anti-air units? What?!” Snyder exclaimed, “How the hell did they get their hands on them?...At any case, I think it’s best to hit the tunnels, which I believe is the way they got in the first place.”

“It is the way they gained access,” admitted Rickhart.

“Alright,” Snyder replied., “I can spare...a few hundred troops. Assuming they haven't yet influenced an entire military division, that should be sufficient for a raid, and small enough to elude detection. Can you make a diversion?”

“I’ll see what I can.” Barely the answer Snyder wanted to hear.

Documents had a habit of falling off Tobias Grey’s desk. On occasions this was intended; leaking was a skill many politicians developed. Somehow an important intelligence document relating to Arandior had fallen off Tobias Grey’s desk and now he couldn’t find it…perhaps someone, a black-shirt loyal to the President, had taken it by ‘mistake’. The document was a list of potentially dangerous troublemakers in Arandior. Perhaps the troublemakers would disappear like the document…or perhaps their rotten corpses would be found in Selvak forest over the years.

Tobias Grey could have ordered the military to deal with the potential threats, he bore that power. The Democratic Republic had no qualms about removing any threats it saw to its unity, especially in what amounted to occupied territory. None the less Tobias Grey realised the value in keeping the brutality under the radar.

Tobias Grey shook his head as trying to remove those thoughts. Suldanor Square had been freshly restored as part of the continuing reconstruction effort in the occupied land of Arandior. Behind his Arandior House remained in ruins, a symbol ever reminding Arandior that it was defeated and would be forever under the Farminan heel.

Black-shirts and soldiers kept a close watch on the Arandiorian crowd that had come to see the fat man talk. The Arandiorians hated Tobias Grey; he’d given them good reason after he smashed the former province so savagely. On the other side of the coin, the Arandiorians had given Tobias Grey every excuse to smash them. Plenty of injustice to go around…

Arandior had been subjugated. Its people were broken and the troublemakers were routed out. That was the theory at least; Tobias Grey suspected that there were those who had escaped the net, those who still believed there was a chance to win. He also suspected they were too few to cause a problem. Tobias’ next move would be as controversial as the one that caused it.

“People of Arandior,” said the President in a soft yet powerful tone, “I have consulted with my Parliament and they have decided new measures must be taken in this territory.”

The congregation was technically a violation of the measures that had already been taken; public meeting had been banned as a potential source of trouble. Despite the harsh measures already in place, the crowd gasped at the talk of more. “As of now,” said Tobias Grey, his cheeks bouncing as he spoke, “Arandior is no longer classed as an occupied territory.”

The next line the President said in a booming voice, “Farmina welcomes the Province of Arandior back into the Democratic Republic.”

That received applause, though it was more from Grey’s men than the shocked locals. “Thus Arandior will have its full rights under the constitution restored. Many of the restrictions placed on this land will be lifted immediately; all special impositions will end in time.”

Tobias Grey had done it. He’d extended the olive branch. However his plan involved more than the recapture of goodwill, “In accordance with the end of Arandior’s status as an occupied territory; I shall be removing a significant portion of General Parm’s force for redeployment.”

The fat president ended with just a brief glare at the people of the recycled province. The people knew what it said, “I’ve extended the hand of peace. Bite it again and you will be even sorrier.”

Farminan forces had been on Messian soil for a week. Since the initial engagement, both sides had skirmished but no big moves had happened. Each side furiously prepared for the next round, the Messians building up their force in Sciren and around as civilians fled while Farminan troops stockpiled supplies closer to the coast. If one ignored the massed movement, then one could easily mistake the war for cancelled.

“Lord Marshal,” insisted Colonel Richter, “The Supreme Commander insisted all efforts go towards preparing for our offensive against Sciren.”

“This will aid in our offensive against Sciren,” insisted Field Marshal Salamander, “This will bring our forces to the gate.”

“That isn’t what the Supreme Commander means,” pleaded Richter, “He wants us to continue to build up forces to the greatest degree possible.”

“The Supreme Commander is a big girl,” responded Salamander, looking out his binoculars at the assembled force, “Everything is in position. Its time to give the enemy a little poke.”

The first phase involved two armies tank heavy, rolling forward with air cover. The first would move in from the north along the high ground to cut off the northern road to Sciren. The second army would advance along the road from the coast and seize the junction cutting off the northern road at a second point. With the northern road blocked; the difficulty of trying to move huge amounts of people and goods both in and out of Sciren at the same time would become more difficult.

“As you order,” sighed Colonel Richter, checking his watch, “The time is upon us.”

“North road,” said Salamander, the order for the attack.

With that thousands of Fast Firer IVs opened up reigning death on the outlying enemy positions as mobile infantry supported by tanks moved forward towards the northern road to Sciren.

Salamander's attack north of Sciren (http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y145/Farmina/AttackPh1B.jpg)

The First Battle of Sciren

The 23rd, 24th, 25th, and 26th National Guard units, as well as the 6th Strike Battalion, took ambush positions around the city. Everyone had been evacuated as quickly as they could, and the fact that the Farminans didn't shoot the fleeing civilians was a great courtesy, or at least a fluke. However, it didn’t help to cool Anderson’s nerves. Not one bit. He didn’t appreciate being stuck with just the one battalion (his own), and four part-duty National Guard units. He would be badly outnumbered; estimates and scouts have estimated it at three to one. His own scout units had it grimmer; four to one. He had to deal with what he had.

Fortunately, his strike unit was designed for mobility over firepower; a rare sight indeed in a standard Messian force. His troops were mostly carrying CR-20 Assault Rifles (MR-20’s without the grenade launcher, but a single shot launcher instead), actual grenades instead of the rifle grenades, they traveled in the Hellrider APC instead of the Battle Carriers, and their tanks made up mostly of the Shatterer instead, and only a few Destructor II tanks, modified to reduce weight.

Anderson sighed as his top lieutenant walked up next to him, “I don’t like this. They’re leveling our city, and are vastly overwhelming the local defenses.”

“You’re telling me, sir,” Davidson replied, “This whole thing is wrong...rebellion in one hand, full scale war in the other. Personally I’d rather defend the homeland than trying to stop a rebellion.”

“I didn’t give you permission to speak,” Anderson replied.

Davidson stiffened up, “My apologies, sir.”

Anderson shook his head, “Not that I care. At ease lieutenant.” Davidson loosened up, “Understood.”

Anderson turned to see another lieutenant approach. “How are the preparations, Rogers?” Anderson replied.

“We are ready for them,” Rogers replied.

“Some tanks hiding in the underground parking garages for rear flanking, infantry in buildings, and the third, four and fifth Shatterer units are ready to high-speed flank them. Rocket launchers are properly distributed.”

“Very good lieutenant,” Anderson replied, a grim look on his face, “Hell gates will be swung wide open this day...let it be known that although we may all not survive this battle, we’re going to make God damn sure that they won't miss the apocalypse.”

***

Corporal Liam Jones looked down the scope of her sniper rifle. Although the forest gave her cover, and being in a tree, hard to spot, she couldn't shake the feeling that her forces were badly exposed, even with the infantry in the bushes. She felt though, that with clear view down this straightaway, they had a clear shot of the incoming forces; as well as first contact.

However, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were badly outnumbered, and outgunned.

She then saw a few metallic figures come over the hill in the far distance, then some sticks. She grabbed her radio, “Unit nine-zero, I have confirmed contacts.”

***

The Farminan troops neared the enemy line on both the northern and southern thrust; John Young, a simple infantry man among them. Little resistance so far. Not much resistance was expected to the effort to breakthrough this far north of Sciren. Still enemies were an unpredictable beast.

Several FastFirer IVs had been pulled all the way forward to blast the enemy at close range. The enemy held a smooth line, so flanking at a strategic level would be impossible, tank commanders were to launch tactical flanking maneuvers wherever possible. The heavier Behemoths tanks were to go in first supported by infantry, with the lighter Leviathan tanks taking up the rear, but expected to overtake the Behemoths once through the enemy lines. FastFirers gave the enemy line one fast, intense and final barrage to keep enemy heads down and movement disabled as the Farminans brought themselves as far forward as possible.

The barrage of artillery suddenly stopped as the light machine guns of the infantry opened up, forcing and flesh to stay hidden (this was mostly targeted forward, but those defending the flanks recklessly spent ammo into the bushes). The tank cannons followed quickly after, with the intention of blasting anything solid into smaller pieces. Then it was like an entire orchestra started to play very badly.

***

As the Farminans fired wildly, the Messian troops, hidden, moved through the bushes, attempting to flank the Farminan task force. Meanwhile, the four tanks lining the highway opened fire with their 120mm smoothbore cannons.

***

“****I repeat! We're********* I ****peat! We’re under att****ck! W********eed backup!”

Anderson could hear the 32nd unit's pleas through the radio. He shook his head. There wasn't much he could do. If he withdrew, the city would fall, and it would be much harder to uproot the Farminan menace from this area, than to hold them to the roads. He checked his watch. “Damnit...six more hours...can we hold out until then?” Anderson pondered, as he prepared to redeploy some of his very few National Guard units to the besieged area...

***

Movement in the bushes confirmed to John Young the need for machine gun fire. He like the other soldiers around him fell to the ground, not wanting to be open targets as the sounds of the more accurate assault and sniper rifles revealed a substantial effort to prevent significant embarrassment to the two major thrusts. The Behemoths rolled forward their cannons still releasing furious bellows. Three tanks however were out of the fight, two bellowing in flames as their munitions cooked off. The Leviathan tanks now used their speed, swinging out from behind the protection of the Behemoth, moving to hit the enemies in the flank and the rear using their mobility and speed.

***

“Damnit, we’re losing units right, left and center! The western flan’'s been wiped out!” the commander yelled into his radio in desperation. “Where the hell's the backup! I need air support! God damnit! He--”

Suddenly, a radar-guided bomb landed in his tank, blasting it into pieces. A few moments later, some Messians surrendered, while others fled to fall-back positions.

However, a few hundred miles away, fighter and bomber aircraft flew towards the beleaguered troops.

***

“We’ve got’em by the nose,” whooped Field Marshal Salamander, “Now we kick them in the teeth.”

Colonel Richter accepted that the Field Marshal did have his opponent by the nose, concentrating two powerful thrusts through a soft strip of line. The first two breakthroughs of the war. The orders were to stay on the defensive. Richter now accepted that his superior had placed those orders into the shredder well and truly. “Are you sure we want to press the advantage so soon?” said Richter, “Our gains will no doubt face airpower.”

“We’ll teach the Messians about airpower,” said Salamander, “Our fighters will soon be patrolling about our gains. But there is more. I’ve moved anti-aircraft weapons forward with our troops. They sit at the very front, rather than further back as per standard policy. The Messians will suddenly find themselves experience anti-aircraft fire sooner than they expected.”

Richter accepted that was crafty. More importantly was exploiting the breakthroughs, he may not agree with it, but if it was to be done it had to be done quickly, “Do all previous plans stand Lord Marshal?”

“Yes.”

That settled that; and so Richter went and relayed the order.

***

A thrust into no-man’s land, deeper into the city of Sciren. The infantry moved cautiously from building to building searching for signs of trouble. The infantry were making good time, expanding the small chunk of Sciren held. Lt Walker guessed the 12th Army’s thrust would bite off a quarter of the city. The Farminans weren’t attacking Messian lines; but no one was going to tell the Messians that. Every building gained made Farmina harder to dislodge. Furthermore it allowed Farmina to bring its artillery further forward, increasing the scope to smash apart Messian-held Sciren and threaten an attack into the very heart of the city. Bringing artillery forward and beginning a mass bombardment could only mean the big attack was soon. If Lt Walker was the Messian military commander of Sciren he would be wetting his pants right about now. Who wouldn’t wet their pants faced with a potential attack in the very heart of what they were supposed to be defending?

***

Orders remained. The Farminans in the north were to use their speed to chase down their retreating opponents to death or surrender. Those that had surrendered were being bound and led back to the coast for permanent detention. More Farminan troops were pouring into the two gaps forced into the Messian line. Not only were the fleeing opponents to be chased down; any enemy units between the two breakthroughs were to be encircled and attacked from every possible direction, creating a gapping whole in the Messian line that needed plugging.

***

The advance into Sciren continued, moving from house to house, checking any residents who hadn't fled for weapons. Every street the infantry went forward, so did the artillery. The artillery however lobbed the occasional shell towards the Messian positions to keep them worried, and their heads down. After launching a shell, the big guns would be quickly moved to another position as to minimise the effects of counter fire.

Lt Walker checked his map, “Halt.”

His platoon was approaching the Messian line, though were still out of effective range. More importantly, the artillery could now move far enough forward to hit deep behind Messian lines, including the road out of the city to the south.

The FastFirer IVs took no time wasting their new positions. Always moving, suddenly it seemed the Farminans wanted to use every shell they’d ever made to blast away the Messian positions in Sciren as well as the roads to the south of Sciren to block resupply.

Before long Lt Walker saw more troops joining his position, and tanks, as the barrage continued. It certainly looked as if Field Marshal Salamander planned to make one more big push, right into the heart of Sciren.

***

“They’re getting close, sir,” Davidson stated, “According to our reports, they're nearing the downtown core. What are your orders?”

Anderson looked on from his commander’s cupola, just looking into the distance, “Sir? Your orders?”

Anderson turned to him, “Oh, sorry. Just nervous. However, I’m waiting until they reach the downtown core. I’m hoping to ambush them. Cut them off. I believe if I remember Farminan tactics properly, they’re going to bring their artillery forward with their confidence. I believe if I can wait until they move into the downtown core, I think we can destroy their artillery and tank units.”

Davidson smiled. “Let the mouse take the cheese,” Davidson said metaphorically, “So that’s why we’re still waiting out here in the outskirts.”

***

Field Marshal Salamander was pleased with the chunk he'd grabbed off Sciren, and what he hadn't grabbed was getting pounded by artillery. The Messians were expecting him to advance further into the city, a brilliant diversion. Farminan air units were fighting a draw with their Messian counterparts in the north to a draw...again. The encirclement of the few Messians between the two breakthroughs was going well to plan.

“I suggest we commence the third and final phase,” said Salamander.

“But we haven’t finished phase two,” observed Richter, “The enemy might try and exploit.”

“Poppycock,” declared Salamander, “The enemy is completely baffled about what we are trying to do.”

In part Col. Richter was also confused, but he consented (more so than the Messians at least) to the plan, “I’ll give the order for the flanking maneuver immediately.”

***

The Leviathan tanks were either trying to surround the pocket of Messian held road or were giving chase to the Messian cowards fleeing the battle when the order came through. Phase 3 had been brought forward; exploiting the victory. Resources were stretched; but the Messians were more stretched.

Tanks and infantry were to pour south and cut off the eastern road, taking advantage of the fact that Farminan forces were now on the wrong side of the Messian line and a section of that line was being sewn up; to create one very large hole.

John Young clambered onto one of the APCs that gave the infantry a chance of keeping up with the armour.

Part the flanking force was supposed to stop half way, to ensure the Messians didn’t try and strike between the north road and the east road cutting off the main thrust. In all honesty, the thrust didn't need much support, the Farminans had broken through and the Messians would be to busy panicking in Sciren to set up a new line further east in a hurry.

***

Thirty kilometers east of the flanking force, a squad of twenty-four HellFire artillery units lined up behind a ridge. Using a Spy Satellite link, they aimed their guns in a moderate-dispersion target-following artillery strike.

“Rotate, 283 degrees. Fire on mark. Mark.”

The sound of an orchestra of artillery shots rang over the hill, to the unsuspecting flanking force away.

***

Shell rained down on the fast and armoured moving targets. The armour and speed only did them so much good. Two tanks and three APCs ceased to function. The FastFirers didn't take long to respond. Around fifty moved into position and respond with the speed and fury that made them the most feared weapon in the Farminan arsenal.

Suddenly, the ground shook all around the artillery guns. However, they already had moved one hundred meters down to the south. But even with the relocation, a few lucky shots hit the repositioning artillery units. One exploded on impact, while another was immobilised from a very close glancing hit to the engine. As they moved, they rotated their turrets back to the east, and fired another barrage.

The cannon shots were strong enough to knock one of the HellFire artillery cannons onto its side.

The battalion of Leviathans and their infantry support turned east to hunt down the enemy artillery; but the bulk of the force kept moving towards the east road, the final target in the swift campaign. More FastFirers were moving forward to smash the enemy artillery; using their standard fire and move tactics. The massed fire was not perfectly targeted, but aimed at and around the enemy artillery, not only to hit but also to strangle enemy movement.

More shells fell, blasting holes into the lush countryside. Navigating the forests was going to be difficult. “Move southwest 196 degrees. Continue firing pattern Omega two. Fire.”

Another volley was launched at the enemy forces, “Maintain firing pattern. Load scram frag rounds, and fire. Mark.”

The Farminan battalion continued their hunt for the enemy battery, now with massive artillery support, against the outnumbered enemy artillery. A wailing sound distracted John Young from his brief rest, when he realised it was the long ranged rockets on the APC doing their part to smash the enemy artillery.

***

Field Marshal Salamander was full of glee with the latest report. Farminan forces had passed over the east road. Chasing the enemy artillery wasn’t going so well, but the Farminan artillery had hammered it badly, which made for a decent second prize. The large chunk of Sciren itself also more than compensated for that small embarrassment.

“The enemy reinforcements get closer,” noted Colonel Richter, “Shall I give the order to start reinforcing our positions?”

Salamander thought for a moment. Perhaps now he had the enemy on the rocks he should try and tear apart the enemy positions in Sciren once and for all, “Not yet. Contact the military commander of Sciren; ask for a one day ceasefire to collect the dead and other ceasefire activities. Have General Werner make an obvious preparation to strike into the heart of Sciren. Make sure our enemy realises they need the ceasefire more than we do.”

“Immediately sir,” said Colonel Richter, racing off to draft the radio message.

Battle for Sciren (http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y145/Farmina/AttackPh3.jpg)

“Sir,” Rogers announced as he ran up to Anderson, “They’re asking for us for a ceasefire and are promising to cease expansion.”

Anderson shook his head and sighed. “Well, that’s good. I wonder if they’re the type to keep their word though.” He then turned to Rogers. “Alright, I accept the ceasefire, but underline that if they cross their lines without permission from myself, that the treaty is over.”

He then turned back to look at the distance, “Also declare that I wish to meet with their high commander. Alone. Light vehicle transportation allowed.”

***

Artillery fire was leveling off, the ceasefire hadn’t been agreed yet, but the Farminans liked to be ready beforehand. General Werner continued to build up for an attack into Sciren; but that was simply a warning to Anderson. Salamander picked up the radio, he now had a direct link to those with the power in Messian-held Sciren, “All business between our forces will happen half way between our lines. The ceasefire shall officially begin at the hour and continue for exactly 24 hours. If anyone has to cross lines; they shall be blindfolded for security reasons.”

“The same rules will apply for our end,” Anderson replied over the radio, “Oh, and if you want to just meet and speak at the downtown core, that’s acceptable as well. There’s a great National Coffee place there, if you want to take a less serious tone to the discussions.”

“Is it still standing?” asked Salamander, “Have the operators fled?”

One could of thought he was joking, but he wasn’t, “I suppose the coffee can’t be worse than the Farmina rations. If we have an agreement, I suppose that is acceptable.”

“I’m not sure if it’s standing or not,” Anderson replied, “I assume so as it’s in the downtown core, and if you’re not crazy enough to hit skyscrapers in the downtown, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Then we are agreed,” said Salamander, “I’ll broadcast the ceasefire, then prepare to depart.”

“Understood,” Anderson replied.

***

Field Marshal Salamander stood flanked by two bodyguards in the no-man’s land in Sciren. Colonel Richter was in charge in his absence, though a ceasefire wasn't the hardest thing to manage. In the distance, the sound of what sounded like a truck could be heard. A few moments later, an armoured SUV, escorted by two others, came around the corner to the rendezvous location.

One of Salamander’s bodyguards waved a white flag so to be absolutely clear about intention and location. “Your supplies must be worse than ours,” called out Salamander, “We at least get a real flag.”

“Yeah, well,” Anderson replied, smiling, “I just didn’t expect to lose.”

“May I introduce Field Marshal Graham Salamander,” declared one of the Farminan bodyguards, “Farmina’s first soldier.”

Anderson walked up, holding out his hand to meet Salamander’s. “The name’s Ryan Anderson. Commander of the 6th Strike Battalion. Also known as the ‘Speed freaks’.”

“With me to my right, is John Davidson, my right hand man.”

Salamander shook Anderson’s hand, “Shall we continue on?”

“Alright. What vehicle are we taking? Or am I leading you?” Anderson inquired.

“We shall take your vehicle,” said Salamander, not mentioning the Farminans were trying to save on gas at every corner.

***

The SUV slowed to a halt next to the National Coffee, after a ten minute ride. The other following SUV slowed to a halt right behind it, the third saying behind. Anderson got out, followed by Salamander and a few others. The cafe, except for a couple of broken windows, was unscathed.

Large solid metal bars lined the windows and doorway; a security feature commonly installed on Skyscraper floor level businesses.

Anderson waited for two of his National Guard troops to leave the second SUV, a man and a woman.

Salamander exited the vehicle after one of his bodyguards but before the other, commenting that, “I’m afraid I don’t have any credits with which to pay.”

“Don’t worry,” Anderson replied, “Consider it a courtesy from myself and National Coffee.”

“Thank you,” said Salamander, taking a seat, “The spoils of war, one cup of wartime coffee.”

The two National Guard troops walked up to the locked up store, and used a swipe card on a door-frame mounted reader. It beeped, and the metal bars retracted into the floor. “C’mon in, Anderson offered.

Salamander walked in and took a seat, “Your economy is unlike ours. Supreme Commander Aricar tells me bringing Trinity into Farmina’s war economy is proving an interesting challenge; but is none the less triumphing. In the small section of Sciren we held before today we have had greater difficulties.”

The two National Guard officers took off their combat jackets, and walked behind the counter, donning some of their ‘not-so-standard’ uniforms. “It is quite different,” Anderson relied, “Our economy is based on government jobs. Our booming oil industry is paying for a substantial portion of extra-government expenditures, as we don't have much use for oil around here. As well, because it’s government based, unemployment is drastically reduced. So yes, I can see why an economic powerhouse is having trouble.”

“Sciren is difficult because we only control parts, plus most of experts are in Trinity,” said Salamander, “Imagine taking over a person’s house but not the factory where he works. It is not like we have a huge number of factories prepared in Sciren ready to use. When we the secure the rest of Sciren and Aricar finishes his work in Trinity, I believe we will make good progress.”

Anderson shook his head, as the woman, now wearing a National Coffee uniform, approached, “What would you like to order, gentlemen?” she asked.

“Long black,” said Salamander, “I don’t want to take to may risks with wartime supplies.”

“Don’t worry, sir. All of the restaurant-based supplies are outside of said economy,” the woman replied, “Are you sure you don’t want something better? We’re a coffee shop, not an aid center.”

“I’ll have a cappuccino,” said Salamander, “And something to eat.”

He then looked at Anderson, “I suppose our men are trading their rations with each other. Will the Farminan capitalists out do their opponents?”

Anderson smiled, even though he hated the whole war. “Meh. All we have to do is to mass-produce Farminan currency, and your economy will collapse,” he said.

“How would you circulate it?” suggested Salamander, “I question whether you can even create the fakes.”

“I was half-joking,” Anderson replied, turning to the woman. “French Vanilla Cappuccino,” he ordered politely, “And an egg-salad sandwich, if it’s still good.”

Food was certainly more surplus here than it was in Farmina. When Tobias Grey declared he would throw everything at the Messians he meant it. For a Farminan to buy anything these days required permission from the government. Food, LNG, entertainment; everything was carefully monitored.

“The same,” said Salamander taking full advantage of the situation.

As the orders were taken, Salamander observed, “How does Snyder think he can win the war if doesn't concentrate troops on the battlefield? A battalion will never be enough to hold Sciren.”

“Hey, now,” Anderson replied, “You should know that reinforcements are coming. It’s just that we were the first to arrive. There’s a reason why we were deployed.”

“I’m still wondering whether I should have finished you off,” said Salamander, “That would have really cooked Snyder’s goose.”

Anderson shook his head. “And sending our troops to their graves?” he murmured.

“More now for fewer later,” said Salamander, “If you and your leaders were so concerned about casualties, would you have attacked us to begin with?”

Anderson laughed, though it wasn’t about humor. “Hey, I never asked for the war either. I still think Snyder’s a crackpot.” The woman approached them, and gave them their cappuccinos.

“Thank you,” said Salamander taking the coffee, “There won’t be much left of your nation if you keep fighting. Surely your people must realise this? Surely your fruitcake that passes for a leader realises this.”

Anderson grabbed his cappuccino, and took a sip. “Mmm...love this stuff.” He then looked at Salamander square in the eye. “Our nation has been around for nearly a century. A lot of the people around here are proud of the accomplishments of the Force Commanders, and their united nation. If you people were only going for Snyder, I think this would have been truce-ified long ago...but the people sense, or know, that Farmina has huge grudges against us, and they don’t want to see what they see as a...crackpot democratic leader trying to force change upon us. It’s happened millions of times in the past, and it’s happening again. Surely you see this.”

Salamander said nothing, but reached into a pouch on his uniform and withdrew a rolled up piece of paper. Openning a file full of small coloured posters he flicked to one of the new ones, “These are going up in Farmina but now also in Sciren and Trinity. These are not the first, not the last, and certainly not the worst.”

The picture was of a golden Farminan hawk, with back tipped wings, and streaks of red and blue, looking particularly aggressive. Its face though not resembling that of Tobias Grey, somehow brought the charismatic president to mind. The bird’s claws had pierced through a tattered Messian flag. Above the bird, the post read, “TWICE THEY TRIED. TWICE THEY SHALL FAIL.”

The background drained from red to black down the poster. The colour scheme, despite the peculiar coloured bird, seemed not to clash. The propaganda carried an appearance of power.

“As I said, a lot of people here are proud of becoming as advanced of a nation as we have become. We have come a long way from the days of commercialism, oil, and all-out war. Crime is minimal, many people have government jobs, we use alternative fuels, and we're using technologies that are far more advanced than some other nations, just simply because we don’t have a bureaucracy,” responded Anderson.

The woman returned with the meals. “Here you are, gentlemen!” she replied nicely.

“You are a bureaucracy,” returned Salamander, “For all your full employment and technology, you manage to produce so little.”

“Economically speaking, yes,” Anderson returned, “Our economy is mainly localised, except for oil and weapons. That's how come the manufacturing is much lower than other nations, because we neither export or import, except for said weapons and oil of course.”

Salamander didn’t think that answer made any sense at all, but changed the topic back towards peace, “The longer your nation fights, the harder the President will punish you. Surely your people must realise this?”

In that statement was an inbuilt assumption Farmina would win, and the victory would become more massive as the war continued.

Anderson shook his head. “Your nation is so full of it,” Anderson commented, “We may lose, but the casualties for both sides will be enormous. Our nation will likely not quit unless a peace treaty was forced, I’m afraid. I’m curious, do you remember the Second World War?”

Again Salamander wasn’t completely sure Anderson was talking sense, but perhaps it was because he was ‘so full of it’. None the less, he responded to Anderson, “Do you propose that your nation will need to carved into two? East and West MES?”

Anderson shook his head, feeling the same thing that Salamander was thinking, “Are you willing to let your democratic psychopath end the lives of tens of millions of your service members, for such a turbulent nation, that will be a thorn in your side for the rest of your days? Do you want to sleep at night, telling your children how many people you killed in the 'Great war'?”

“Is accepting a mild peace worthwhile if it only means we fight another war in ten or twenty years time?” noted Salamander, “Better to suffer now and end this conflict forever.”

Anderson shook his head. “If Snyder never came to power, I would still be vacationing at your port city,” Anderson said, “The disease is Snyder, not the system. I think this is lesson enough for the Force Commanders to make a change.”

Politics was not Salamander’s specialty, but he knew the propaganda broadsheets well enough, “The system is prone to disease. It is now undeniable, as Tobias Grey prophesized when the Commanders denied it, that the Messian system would catch the tyrant disease.”

“And Farmina's system is any better?” Anderson remarked. “Rickhart? Palmer? Your former Emperor? All within our time spans. We've only had one.”

“We never elected Justinian to be emperor,” noted Salamander, “Rickhart and Palmer may not be softies; but that aren’t tyrants either.”

Anderson started eating his sandwich, “The point is, no system is perfect, and I don't think this nation is ready for a democracy.”

“Perhaps Snyder should relay that to Tobias Grey,” said Salamander, “But the next sign your leader shows of talking will be the first.”

“They’ve already spoken,” Anderson replied, “Tobias won’t listen. I just wish my former Commanders would be around right now.”

Salamander knew there was a propaganda poster that displayed the Force Commanders, so he opened up the file and flicked through, “Here it is.”

There was black and white pictures of the Ackvick, Dasch and Foster's heads, on a black background, with big red letters above it reading, “THEY FIGHT WITH US.”
Below the three heads it read, “ANGELAS-FRANSICO REMAINS IN LIBERTY’S HANDS.”

Anderson looked at the poster. His eyes responded with his eyelids opening. “They wouldn’t...they...couldn’t,” Anderson stammered.

“I hate to ask,” said Salamander, “But what is Snyder saying about rebel holdings? I know for a fact the capital is in rebel hands. What does Snyder admit?”

Anderson smiled, “News is quite short nowadays. As I’m not a part of his loyal guard units, I’m not privy to the information. However, from rebel reports, it sounds like Snyder is sending reinforcements to stop the rebellion. However, I’m not involved, as I’m a part of the old guard. Secretly, I hope the rebellion succeeds. However, I don’t want it to be for nothing,”

“The rebel held cities tend to be out of Farmina’s reach,” noted Salamander, “If we could link up, we’d be able to support them and maintain their loyalty, but even the closest which is Angelas-Francisco is a long way away. The future is for politicians to divine, its my job to make sure Tobias Grey has as many tools as possible to carve that future in Farmina’s favour.”

Anderson caught in the corner of his eye a second female, coming out of the kitchen to stand behind the counter. She seemed vaguely familiar, but seeing her in a National Coffee uniform, he couldn’t think that was her. But who is she? He only brought two employees.

“What are you looking at?” asked Salamander, slipping his hand into his jacket.

“Oh, nothing,” Anderson replied, “Just thought I saw someone that seemed familiar to me.”

Salamander nodded and finished off his meal, “Sciren will fall at the next push, you realise that don’t you?”

Anderson looked at Salamander directly in the eyes, “I don't want to kill any of you. And honestly, if I have to die defending my own nation, then so be it. I’m not fighting for Snyder, but I'm fighting for the old guard.”

The second woman, walked out from the counter, and approached the two men. She didn’t look like she was going to threaten them.

Salamander placed his hand in his jacket anyway. His bodyguards also moved defensively.

“Field Marshall Salamander,” the woman announced. Anderson's mind then just clicked on who it is, “It can’t be...” Anderson said distantly.

“Ms Ackvick,” said Salamander, “I thought our spies were going crackers when they claimed you weren't dead.”

“...You’re alive?” Anderson stammered in complete suprise. He then stood up and saluted her.

“At ease,” Amy said firmly, “I don’t think we deserve the respect.”

She then turned to Salamander. “No,” Amy replied, “I’m alive...if you call it alive.”

Salamander remained of the opinion that spies were for the most part crackers, even if they did get such things right...occasionally.

Salamander then pondered for a moment, “I assume there is a reason you are here.”

“I was in the neighbourhood,” Amy replied, pulling up a seat. “Actually, I was in the city area when I found out about your meeting.”

“You may not have chosen the safest city in the world to visit,” observed Salamander.

She smiled. "It's not like we asked you to drop in the day I was working with the resistance," she replied.

She looked at him more seriously then. “But do you wish to bring this war to a sudden conclusion?”

“I don’t think you are talking to the right person,” said Salamander, “But I’ll hear you out.”

“A large reinforcement battlegroup is coming in, from four different directions. This is mainly run by Snyder Loyalists. They’re using a couple of new tank designs, which has only been developed recently, and I’m sure your intel has never seen them before.”

“We did receive the details on some new tanks,” said Salamander, not wanting to mention a group of loony Farminan spies onboard a Messian spacecraft.

Amy took out two photos, taken from a high-quality camera from a long distance. It seems to be at a military base that he hasn't seen before. “From what I’ve found out, these two are called the Apocalypse, and the Destroyer.”

“Perhaps we should return to my lines to discuss this further,” said Salamander.

“What for?” Amy responded, taking out a third photo. This one showed a tank which looked completely different from anything he's ever seen before.

“I do not want Mister Anderson to have a conflict of interest,” said Salamander, “If we are to make a plan to secure Sciren, surely it is his duty to oppose it.”

Anderson looked at Amy, “The man has a point...why are you working with the invaders?”

Amy sighed. “Alright, I’m going to put all the cards on the table. I want Snyder dead more than anything. He killed me, and destroyed my nation from the greatness it was.”

“Then I suggest we return to my lines,” said Salamander, “Tobias Grey is more than happy to see Lord Snyder dead. He will not see this war end with him alive.”

He then glanced at Anderson, “I hope you the best in fighting for your nation.”

“I....Sala....Ackvick!” Anderson stammered, “To speak frankly, ma’am, are you letting your personal feelings take advantage of you?”

She shook her head, “Partly, but listen to me when I say this.”

She turned to Salamander. “I will not take part in a democratic MES. I want Snyder out. If you can help us take out Snyder and his loyalists, and you also promise to bring Tobias to the table, I can end this war quickly. With the building rebellion, I’m sure I can,” she turned to Anderson, “With loyalist help.”

Salamander turned to Anderson and looked at him; would this man betray his nation to help it in the long run? Salamander’s mind turned to the propaganda poster “THEY FIGHT WITH US.” He wondered if the image of the three heads stuck in Anderson's mind too.

Anderson looked skeptical, “I’ll follow your orders, ma’am, but are you sure that this is a good idea?”

Amy looked at him, and put her hand onto his shoulder. “Trust me. Anything is better than Snyder, but life is all full of gambles. And if I remember correctly, Tobias is a gambling man, but I'm sure that we can figure out a solution.”

She then turned back to Salamander, “I think you have your answer, but will you forward to Tobias about this?”

“Tobias Grey will be keen for an alliance,” said Salamander, “Even if it is temporary. Your help could break Snyder's grip on Sciren making it easier to join up with the rebels in Angelas-Fransico and eventually elsewhere. Not to mention the potential propaganda value. How are you in front of a camera?”

“You kidding?” Amy replied, “I have my husband’s talents, except that I have young teenage boys dreaming about me at night.”

She paused, turned to Anderson, then turned back. “What about a dupe?”

“How do you mean?” asked Salamander.

“I have an idea which may serve us all,” she replied, “What about if yours and Anderson's forces exchanged bullets, and not aim for each other? From what I've seen, you people love spilling lead.”

“I’ll do what I can to avoid conflict with his battalion,” said Salamander, “However if it gets in the way during the big offensive, there is nothing I can do.”

“Anyways, the plan,” she continued, “Is I want to bring Snyder’s four battalions into the city limits. Once they arrive, I want both of our forces to engage immediately.”

"Another point is that all of his units have those noticeable yellow flags that I love to despise,” Anderson pointed out.

“We will take longer than that to prepare,” said Salamander, “And we will want to be ready to drain every propaganda edge out of this possible. This will be your rising milady.”

“I’m willing to give you the war on a silver platter,” Amy said, “I will gain almost any force, National Guard or otherwise, to join your thrust. That will cut down the effective Snyder Messian force to...50,000 troops?”

“Two billion troops against 50,000. I’m hoping at least,” she finished.

Salamander was expecting there was a great deal of hoping involved, but he couldn’t deny the opportunity, “May we first prepare the propaganda to optimise on the victory at Sciren.”

“I will go with you as soon as we’re finished here,” she replied, “But first, unfinished business here, as I need to show this intel to Anderson as well.”

She repositioned the photos in front of her, particularly emphasising the strange looking tank.

“How much of a problem are we looking at?” asked Salamander.

“This tank is called the Incinerator. I will tell you this, and emphasise it, do not let this tank get anywhere close to your infantry or light vehicles,” she replied, “This thing is a treaded porcupine of heavy gattling armaments, and two twin-linked ‘Nitrocannons’.”

She gave him a few documents, which seemed to have been stolen, which depicted the vehicles she was describing.


“I’ll have specialists analyse these,” said Salamander, “Shall we aim to commence this offensive in two weeks? That we can do it properly.”

She shook her head. “They’ll be arriving in...” she checked her watch, “Four hours. If we're going to dupe them, we need to fake it in three.”

“There is a ceasefire along this entire front for another ten hours,” observed Salamander, “We must abide by it.”

“They won’t acknowledge it,” Anderson said, “They are under a different command.”

“In addition,” Amy replied, “Snyder won’t let you people make a foothold in this area. That’s why he’s deployed the heaviest tanks in his arsenal in this defensive action. If my calculations were correct, this is two-thirds of his personal tank force. That's how serious he is with this.”

“We are entrenching our infantry,” said Salamander, “We have anti-tank rockets waiting on the front line. I think we can repel him.”

“Entrenchment is a bad idea in this case,” Amy replied, “The Incinerators are easily effective against such ideas. I believe taking them into the city or using tanks to attack their guns will be a better strategy.”

She pointed at the photo of the tank, “These are Nitrocannons. They're basically flamethrowers with a special conniption of fuel and accelerants to make an ignitive blast powerful enough to flip a car over with the force alone.”

“The tanks will be deployed behind the entrenchment for a mobile defence,” said Salamander, “Rockets hitting flamethrower fuel will cause Snyder to come out in spots.”

“But keep the strategy If you want to see your troops cremated before their deaths,” she finished.

“One hundred meter range. But yes, rockets will work. But you must aim at the tanks on the top of its turret to make a dent; the vehicle is, from what I’ve read and seen, is built on the modified Armageddon chassis. Same with the Apocalypse,” she pointed at the other tank.

“The only other vehicle I haven’t shown you is this one,” she finished, pulling out another picture. It was a mammoth APC with machine gun turrets on the side, front, missile launchers on the top, and a tank turret in the forward roof. “That’s carrying the majority of his troops.” She took out the rest of her documents, and looked at Salamander. “This is everything I have.”

“And all I had was this,” Anderson said, pulling out a map defining the reinforcement movement paths.

“I must return to prepare the defence then,” said Salamander.

“Very well, I shall join you. Anderson, prepare your troops for a fake-out. We need a signal to start the operations. Any ideas?” said Amy Ackvick.

“A massive FastFirer barrage,” said Salamander, "No one can miss that."

“That works,” Anderson said with an awkward look, “You don’t need to tell me twice!”

“Then it’s settled. Pack it up ladies and gents, we’re going to war!” Amy announced.

Salamander had quickly returned to his command tent to begin the planning defence with his adjutant, his advisors, and probably his superiors. Rumour had it that he faced an official reprimand for an unapproved victory in Sciren, that now mattered for very little indeed.

Commander Amy Ackvick had been abandoned to the clutches of the military propaganda service, which operated someone independently of that run by Tobias Grey, but was very careful not to upset him. Tobias Grey had heard of Amy Ackvick’s assistance and as an act of generosity pardoned her for tyranny (despite the fact she had never been convicted of such a crime).

“Alright Ms Ackvick, could you just stand on the these two men’s hands?” said Lt Staurnburger, pointing to one man in Farminan uniform and the other in Messian uniform (despite being a Farminan), ready to give Ms Ackvick a leg up.

Amy smiled and helped herself higher upon the arms of the two men.
Amy Ackvick had been dressed up in Force Commander uniform altered with pieces of blue garb, as she was held up by the two privates of ‘different’ nationalities. “Snyder guard,” called out Lt Staurnburger, “And the sword.”

One of the Farminan privates carried a long blade over to Amy Ackvick as more Farminans took up their positions dressed as Snyder’s men. Most lay sprawled on the floor with fake wounds; but two crouched upon the ‘corpses’, bowing before Amy Ackvick.

“Comfortable everybody?” asked Staurnburger, to which there were several complaints.

“I’m fine,” Amy replied, “But I would still prefer wearing my normal uniform. I think this is too...Farminan. I don’t want to look like I’m working with the ‘devil’.”

“The devil is holding you up,” observed the Farminan dressed as a Farminan private.

“What we have added represents liberty,” said Staurnburger, “Altering the uniform itself represents change. Now could you be a dear and point that sword at those bowing before you.”

Amy nodded her head, “Well, I don’t want to look like the traitor to commoners in this nation. Now, smile!”

“People will see Snyder Guard bowing before you in response to your blade,” said Staurnburger, “Ready the cameras. Ready the lights.”

Amy gave an intimidating pose, holding the sword with great grace.

“Lovely,” said the photographer who hadn’t mentioned his name.

Flash. Flash. Flash and then it was done. The Farminan actors gratefully exited their uncomfortable positions as the producers began putting their poster together with a brutal efficiency that powered Farminan industry.

Salamander returned from his command tent, followed by a man who was somewhat shorter and had a middle age expansion in the belly like Salamander. “Ms Ackvick this is Colonel Richter, my adjutant,” explained Salamander, “I believe we have hammered out a plan of sorts.”

“Explain,” she replied.

“Snyder in moving his way to battle through Sciren,” said Salamander, withdrawing his pocket map, “Now I intend to launch a fighting withdraw through Sciren, a campaign of horrific attrition on his forces, make him pay for his gains. A solid force will also hold here in the north. Once the fighting breaks out, I’ll ask Anderson to bring his National Guard in the city to aid in this.”

Salamander skipped back a step, “I should have mentioned I’ll use our artillery advantage to cause chaos on the roads Snyder will be using. Follow so far?”

“So far,” she replied.

“The key is we use the enemy’s momentum against him,” said Salamander.

“Momentum at great cost,” added Colonel Richter.

“So she has been made aware,” said Salamander, “The enemy positions will move forward. There are places we will not abandon, like this junction in the north. Then we strike like lightening; with speed, airpower and mass against this south most battlegroup. We shall hit it in the flank and rear as well as the front. It will be cut off and recieving damage from three prongs. After losing a battlegroup, exposing the southern flank, separating his force from MES Beta and all his gains paid in blood, Snyder’s force will be in a bad way. Then we shall make him pay.”

The attrition defence was standard, but Salamander felt a blitz attack on the southern front was somewhere between lunacy and genius; just what the doctor ordered.

“That is acceptable,” Amy replied, “Shall we prepare? We only have an hour left.”

“We shall,” said Salamander, “We also want you seen leading the Messian units. All part of the propaganda. You realise this will make a mess of Sciren?”

“Let’s keep it outside of the downtown core,” she replied to that statement, “After all, collapsing skyscrapers would be incredibly dangerous to friend and foe alike.”

“We will fight where we have to,” said Salamander.

She sighed. “I don’t want my country to be leveled,” she replied grimly, “But there’s no time to waste.”

“Indeed,” said Salamander, “Colonel, have Ms Ackvick escorted back to her lines.”

The enemy approached. “All Snyder guard units, there is a ceasefire in effect over the entire front, do you acknowledge?” Col Richter said into the radio.

Farmina could now take Sciren, he was sure of it. Field Marshal Salamander’s plan had an element of caution and much of the land already won had now been abandoned.

There was no response.

“Respond Snyder Guard units,” called Richter, “If you do not cease the advance and confirm you intent, you shall be presumed hostile.”

He tried to make his voice nervous; with the tone of a bad bluff.

There was a response. The radio garbled, then became clear. “This is the Snyder Elite Guard, to enemy Farminan units. Stand down or you will be decimated. There shall be no prisoners if you don’t withdrawal from this quadrant immediately.”

“We have prisoners of our own,” warned Richter, “We shall match brutality for brutality.”

Switching channels, he sent a series of seemingly meaningless beeps to Ackvick, Salamander and Anderson.

He then returned to the link he had with the Snyder units, “The Democratic Republic of Farmina will fight for every inch of ground it has won. In the name of liberty we shall stand and fall together. Attack our Sciren holdings if you will.”

“Very well then,” the voice replied, “Then prepare to be ground to dirt under our iron boot, lowlife Grods.”

***

Field Marshal Salamander stood not far from the heart of Sciren. His infantry units would soon pour forward once Snyder’s men realised they had been duped. “The Messians refuse to respect the ceasefire,” bellowed the Salamander, dressed as a private, “FIRE.”

Farminan FastFirer IVs along with heavier guns opened up with fury and mass on the roads that the Snyder guards were trying to pass down. The shells would be landing in front of and on the enemy. A few might even fall behind. Shells raining down ahead of you would certainly make you think twice about advancing, not to mention ruin the road.

“Eat that Snyder,” said Salamander as he climbed into the protection of a tank, that would pass for a mobile command center.

***

Artillery shells rained around the slow moving yellow-marked tanks, rolling down a few major arteries. The force was nothing that the Messians have ever deployed before; it had Apocalypse and Incinerator superheavy tanks, new Destroyer medium-heavy tanks, and the huge Battle Carriers. This, along with regular APC’s, Destructors, and many troops, approached the city from all of the major roads. As they came near the city, more artillery shells rained down, one hitting an unlucky Destructor tank, blasting it into pieces.

“They dare to use such cowardly tactics?” the main replied. “They dare? Commence firing from artillery units Ceta, Delta, Eta, and Mu.”

Suddenly, a counter barrage from a number of HellFire artillery guns rained from the sky above. “Commence firing of artillery unit Black. Fire primaries only.”

Quadruple blasts rippled through the air from what can only be determined to be massive cannons. Their shells streaked through the air behind the other shells.

***

The FastFirers maintained their move and shoot tactics; but that only did so much good. FastFirer pieces started turning into scrap metal. Field Marshal Salamander however intended to fully use his advantage in artillery. The artillery commanders were already aware of what to do when the HellFires opened up. Nearly half the FastFirers extended their range to hit the enemy artillery pieces.

Then something new joined the counter barrage. The Farminan infantry had needed to do something in their spare time; Supreme Commander Aricar had found it. The entire Farminan army had been assembling crude but effective long range rockets. Their greatest weakness was their lack of guidance; their greatest advantage was they were a scrap yard weapon.

Concealed infantry started releasing hundreds of these rockets moving from building to building, ditch to ditch, launching the small sacks of trouble at the enemy, trying to hit the artillery.

***

Some additional artillery rounds came down around the vehicles, a couple hitting the mark, but the rest doing a great job putting holes into the ground. The commander looked up, and saw what he could only tell to be little specs, until they fell down. Suddenly, explosions blew up all over the place. “Maintain movement! Maintain movement! Inbound mortars!” the officer yelled, as rockets rained down on his units. The heavier tanks and the Battle Carriers only took glancing damage, but a few of the smaller APC’s, and artillery units were feeling the heat, some being blasted.

***

The artillery wasn’t doing as much damage as Salamander expected. The roads were getting torn up as intended (whether it occurred to the Messians the roads were the actual target he wasn’t sure). He had expected the tanks to dome damage, but the enemy artillery was still firing and that was unacceptable.

***

“They think they can do this to us?” the man scoffed to himself. He picked up his communicator, “Artillery Black, fire Primaries, and Secondaries. Link secondaries to satellite control. Fire fire fire.”

Suddenly, four more of the loud blasts were heard through the air, but then what can only be described as a loud, quickly repeating thumping sound for six seconds could be heard from the distance as well.

***

Amy looked up to see the streaks of what looked like to be quite large-calibre shells. “Can’t be...” she said quietly. But then she could see the streaks of missiles in large, spreading out clusters flying over her. She quickly picked up her communicator, and set it to communicate to Farmina. “Incoming cruise missiles, incoming cruise missiles. Spread out!”

“Armageddons...” she murmured to herself.

Dozens of rockets came down. The Farminan FastFirers fell silent.

***

“Targets eliminated Director,” a man stated through the radio, “What are you orders?”

“Begin the advance immediately,” the man stated coldly. “Bring us in.”

***

Field Marshal Salamander was now moving into the next phase of the plan, rearranging his forces. With the roads ruined, the Snyder guard would be expecting help from the locals to attack into Sciren. They would be in for a disappointment. The FastFirers were now all silent and hidden, ready to give Snyder’s men an unpleasant surprise once the attrition battles for Sciren began.

***

“Maintain course,” the man replied, “Prepare for war.”

The tanks rolled towards the city, rather slowly, but in a half-hour, they arrive at the outer city limits and the expanded expressways. Two Apocalypse tanks spread out horizontally driving down the freeway, as the other tanks rolled up behind. The Battle Carriers stopped to unload their hundreds of troops, while the APCs stopped to load up some of the Battle Carrier troops to move in-city. The anti-air units spread out within the group, and the main artillery group started to pound the former artillery positions again.

As their units moved into position, a duo of Messian Shatterer tanks drove down the freeway. One of them had command markings.

The command tank stopped, and Anderson’s head peeped out of the cupola. “Thank God you made it, we’re being overrun here, and we need your help to secure the downtown core! They’re raining hell on us!” he said on the Radio.

A response crackled through. “Lead the way,” the voice responded.

Anderson gulped. He did NOT want to be followed by an entire battalion when his job was to stab them in the back.

***

Salamander had two armies to defend the city, though in time that number would be reduced to one. They would fight house to house, street to street with infantry armed to the teeth. Tanks would be held in support, hidden inside buildings and ruins, blasting passing enemies in the rear and flanks. Much of the infantry would be armed with armour-piercing rockets to tear out the sides of tanks from concealed positions.

Machine guns were set up and the artillery remained hidden, to be pulled out for brief bombardments of enemy concentrations before again being hidden. Snipers readied themselves to take spill the blood of unsuspecting soldiers and officers. Improvised explosives had been planted to catch out the Snyder and slow them down. Salamander had promised a war of attrition and he would give one.

***

In theory the Messians moving through the neutral zone; the Farminan line was still a distance away. “Strikers Battalion,” someone whispered as the first group passed.

People on other roads made similar observations. Then came the Snyder Guard, “Well we can’t hold on any longer.”

Within seconds of each other rockets wailed out of the windows of abandoned buildings, aimed at the vulnerable points of tanks. Machine guns, assault rifles, grenades and sniping weapons all sounded shortly after.

***

“Inbound fire. Fire at will, fire at will,” the man announced as the lead vehicles took missile hit. The massive amount of armour deflected the rocket projectiles from the Farminan soldiers, but even with the plating, it became very uncomfortable inside. The tanks stopped, and rotated their massive turrets towards where the shots were fired, and fired a few shots into their positions. However, another rocket nailed the lower side of the forward tread unit on the left, of the left-side Apocalypse, derailing it. "Tread damage," the driver announced.

***

Salamander could hear the sounds of the battle starting further east as Farminan troops prepared to ambush the Messians from every building as the commenced a slow retreat. Still no word that Anderson had played his hand. For now, Salamander planned to allow Snyder to think he was having an expensive victory, as the Farminan fire and move tactics showed to be a very slow retreat.

Snipers and machine guns would reap a massive butcher’s toll amongst the enemy infantry. Grenades rolled under enemy tanks or dropped from a second storey window into an open cupola hatch would also prove expensive, along with rockets and tanks hidden within structures, before suddenly trying to blast apart a tank’s side armour and tracks. This would keep the enemy advance all tied in nots, while Snyder secretly strengthened the southern flank, waiting for the time to strike.

***

The infantry immediately ran to cover as smaller shells rained on them. A number of them didn’t make it to cover. However, those that did immediately moved from cover to cover, advancing on the infantry, while Destructor and Destroyer tanks moving around them joined the fight. The main tanks kept their slow advance into the city, the one with the damaged tread rolling on boggys on one set.

***

The Farminan infantry supported by a few tanks and the occasional FastFirer (the artillery seemed to be yelling “nah nah you missed me”) continued their fire and move tactics, sneaking up close to the enemy and blasting them intensely from ambush positions. When counter fire came in, they would often play dead. Sometimes they were dead, more often they moved or reused the same position in a couple of minutes. Snipers kept making heads explode in a random fashion. Farminan infantry would occasionally allow the enemy to pass by, before releasing a rocket into the rear of an enemy tank or machine gun fire into the backs of an infantry column. This was done infrequently; if it was frequent it would become expected and hence inefficient.

***

Colonel Richter came over the radio, “The enemy has reached 33rd, but they pay for every street. They’ll pay all over again if they try to retreat through the blocks they think they’ve cleared.”

“Good,” said Salamander looking out his tank. In south eastern Sciren, Snyder’s men weren’t moving forward. There Salamander was stockpiling men and tanks and helicopters. Pulling out his map, Salamander saw that the enemy still needed to advance a little further into the city. The Messian commanders would be seeing progress, once Sciren fell, the Farminan supply port was vulnerable and practically ended the Farminan incursion. The Messians wouldn’t get that far, hopefully...

***

“Attack units Cobra and Raptor, commence entrance into the city, and engage targets of opportunity,” the man stated. A few moments later, a large wing of twenty-four attack H-10 Beast attack helicopters, followed by another wing, flew treetop and rooftop level into the city.

“Apocalypse Alpha Seven to director, we have friendly Messian units in sight. They are engaging Farminan units. Moving into area to engage.”

The man smiled. Excellent, he thought. Once we link up, we shall completely mow down the Farminan scum. He looked up from his tank. “Engage at will. Save our comrades!”

The Apocalypses drove into the Messian line, moving towards the Farminans. The tank rolled in, firing its twin heavy, high velocity cannons into the melee, followed by three other Apocalypses, then two other tanks, and swarms of infantry, the latter moving through buildings, and clearing them out.

Farminan rockets and machine guns, supported by rifle fire, responded, seemingly from random locations, and rarely the same window twice in a row.

“Sir, we are taking fire from enemy units from inside structures, requesting support,” an Apocalypse driver stated calmly as his tank took numerous dents on his tank. One left a serious, noticeable dent in the side, startling the crew. “Requesting orders!”

The man picked up his communicator. “Level the neighbourhood. Leave no one alive.”

The Apocalypses rotated their main guns towards the ‘cowardly’ Farminan troops, as they started calling them, and blasted some buildings to utter ruin.

Much to the dismay of the Messian supertanks, the rockets kept coming, sometimes from the rubble, sometimes from other buildings in front of them. Sometimes from a behind them in areas that should have been cleared.

***

Amy watched the tanks starting to hit the structures the Farminans were hiding in a blatant disregard for personal property damage, and protecting civilians. She picked up her radio, and muttered two words to Anderson.

“Start operation.”

Anderson heard the radio, and immediately turned around and motioned with his hands to the Shatter tanks around him to move out and move into flanking positions, while moving carefully.

***

Colonel Richter reassigned more units to the flank. The center of the Farminan army group would be significantly weakened, with much of the force in the two armies preparing to strike the southern flank. The center would have its fighting withdraw weaker and have to withdraw further, probably to the far side of the town center. That wouldn’t be too bad. There would still be plenty of the city between the Messians and the coast. The super-tanks hadn’t been disabled, even if the Farminan infantry was causing huge amounts of difficulty for them, which worried Richter and General Werner and the Field Marshal himself. If nothing could be done, well that was too bad. Once Anderson threw the Messians off guard, the counteroffensive would begin on a larger scale.

***

The centre of the Farminan line was beginning to falter, falling back through the heart of Sciren. The retreat quickly halted and the Farminans threw up another savage defence not far west of the central district of Sciren. General Werner allowed the Snyder guard to position themselves just outside the central district; after all Amy Ackvick had insisted it was a no fighting zone.

Colonel Richter knew Salamander’s plan relied on massively superior numbers; but it also relied on superior timing. Those loyal to the Commanders had to move soon. What the hell was taking Anderson so long?

***

As the tanks moved into position, a few beeps came over the radio from different units. Anderson counted them. Twenty....thirty...forty. When he heard, if he counted correctly, the fifty-third beep, he flicked the button on his communicator.

“Fire.”

Suddenly, tank rounds from the Shatterer tanks, in perfect flanking position, fired rounds into the rear of the Apocalypse tanks, into their rear and turrets. One’s turret buckled, and came off sideways off of the tank, while another had a major engine fire. A third took a number of hits, but kept functioning, rotating its turret to meet the attackers. However, the Shatters had already moved down other blocks, to swing around again to engage.

***

“What the fuck?!” the man yelled as Messian tanks fired at other Messian tanks. “You God-damned traitors! All units! Level those traitors! Destroy them at all costs!”

At that moment, all hell broke loose in the downtown core.

***

Jets were flying overhead, going to deliver as much death to the southern Messian flank, before flying back to the carriers or the mediocre airstrips. Anderson was now causing difficulty for the Snyder Guard, the advance through Sciren had ground to a bloody halt at the new Farminan line.

As Salamander closed the hatch on his cupola, he was about to show why Farmina would win the war; Farmina could spit and chew gum at the same time.

Amassed FastFirers opened up the southern Snyder battlegroup trying to smash apart everything resembling a concentration. The Farminan Leviathan and Behemoth tanks started their engines, as did the APCs. The two assembled armies were to smash through the Messian lines at several points and strike the heart of the battle group in the rear, the left flank and the front. Helicopters would join the advance for the first time; having the advantage over jets of having the capacity to hover in the air for long periods of time.

“Forward,” yelled Salamander, “To victory!”

***

“Look at those bastards run!" Anderson yelled gleefully as some Snyder Guard ran away from his tank, incapable of dealing with his modified Destructor tank, “After them!”

As they swung around the corner, he gasped. “Oh shi...”

Suddenly, his tank is nailed by a barrage of Apocalypse and Destructor shells. Reinforcements had arrived on the flank. In addition, some very easily recognisable, yet strange looking tanks moved down the street. “Incinerators!” Amy yelled from her tank, “Fall back and regroup!”

***

“That’s better,” the man replied, watching from his special command viewer. “What’s this? They’re attacking the southern flank? Those bastards.” He activated his communicator. “Attack wing Cobra, divert to the southern flank. Raptor, maintain course, and engage any hostiles in view.”

***

Colonel Richter came in over the radio, “We have helicopters coming into your force. Not enough to stop you. Enough to cause trouble. The Messians haven’t seemed to realise how big the counter attack is yet; they don’t realise we have half our force there.”

With only a quarter of the Farminan force actually holding Sciren, however savagely, Salamander didn’t expect the Messians to realise the problem until they had one less battlegroup, “Send some 12-11s to knock them down. We have anti-air tanks leading the pack and anti-air rockets on the APCs we’ll mop up what’s left.”

“Into them,” yelled Salamander, “Lets tear them apart before they realise this isn’t just a spoiling attack.”

Machine guns, tank shells, rifle fire, mortar rounds, helicopter rockets suddenly all began playing their foul rhythm a lot faster as the overwhelming force slammed into the southern part of the line.

***

Colonel Richter realised Ackvick and Anderson were in trouble, “Lady Liberty, pull back to Farminan line. We will launch spoiling offensives from there.”

***

Timothy studied the map in Snyder’s office. The radio said everything was dandy. The map disagreed. Timothy was pretty sure the radio was telling fibs. On the other hand the radio stations Farmina set up were claiming that Farminan forces and rebels had pushed Snyder’s men out of Sciren and into MESB Fargo. Timothy was pretty sure Farminan radio was fibbing too.

In the north, Snyder’s battlegroup had engaged in the occasional artillery duel with the Farminan forces. The result was that the road was now badly torn up. Going around the road was impossible, thick forest with snipers and machine guns awaited. The drive through Sciren was going well, slow but not to slow, the cost was something else. Still the downtown section had fallen. How much longer could the Farminan hold the Snyder Guard back? How long before Messian artillery could completely pummel the coastline?

In the south…Timothy didn’t like looking in the south. What was happening there was bad and getting worse by the minute.

The door opened to reveal Snyder's stressed-looked face looking towards the Advisor. He walked in and looked at the maps. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” he said.

“The Field Marshal...Sameaner is going after the southern flank like its full of gold,” said Timothy. It certainly hadn’t been because it was full of the Messian currency. The rumours about the imminent collapse of the credit continued to cause trouble. The Farminan blockade of all Messian exports only made matters worse.

“We are making progress in Sciren itself,” insisted Timothy, trying to make the best of a bad situation, “If we control Sciren perhaps the rest doesn't matter.”

Snyder looked at some of the video footage of the battle. “But even if we hold Sciren, which is a huge accomplishment on its own, won’t stem the tide.”

“From Sciren we can hit the coast,” said Timothy, “Sciren is a key link in their supply chains.”

But Snyder did have something. The Farminans could cut their losses and try somewhere else where Snyder wasn’t looking. How long before Snyder’s luck run out? Several cities, including the capital were still held by rebels. The other question was how long before Farmina’s casualties became too much for Tobias Grey to handle.

Timothy looked at the map. A new attack from the north would be expensive with road ruined and the forest full of Farminan snipers. Reinforcements would be needed. To hold the southern flank, reinforcements would be needed. That would mean pulling troops out of Sciren, and if that was done, could the line hold? If not, Snyder's force would probably have to withdraw to the far side of central district.

“What do we do?” asked Timothy, hoping that someone had an answer.

Snyder looked at the map. “What if we had our northern and southern flanks do a fighting retreat to the rear of the city, and reinforce the center?”

“We could salvage what we can,” said Timothy, looking at what was left of the southern flank. One moment the Farminans had been launching a minor counter offensive against that southern flank, next it seemed the entire Farminan military was behind the line and mauling the battle group from every direction.

“We better move quickly,” said Timothy, “The casualties on the southern flank are rising quickly. There won't be much left before too long.”

The northern battlegroup would have to pass through the forest as the road only led south into the enemy or north, not south east.

“Alright,” Snyder replied, picking up the phone, “Director. Here’s the plan.”

***

Whoever said the Messians would refuse to give up an inch of ground was a damned liar. Salamander could see from his command tank that the Messians were clearly making a fighting withdraw. Salamander had a single thought; the Farminans would strike north, hitting the withdrawal with massive firepower, speed and numbers. The Farminans had concentrated and broken through. Now was the time for overrun and outflank the retreating Messians and exploit the gains earned in the breakthrough.

***

“Extend range,” yelled the artillery colonel as the new orders came in.

The FastFirers paused for a moment and then the shells started falling further north, towards the rear of the retreating Messian battlegroup. No one liked retreating through artillery fire.

Salamander’s Leviathan tanks gave chase, trying to strike the flanks and behind the Messian force, as helicopters dealt down death from above using their huge rocket stores and heavy machine guns. The slower Behemoth tanks were concentrated in the center of the Messian line, designed to smash up the screen resisting the Farminans with simply intense firepower. Anti-aircraft weaponry was kept practically at the front; Messian air cover was anticipated. Infantry using a wide range of weapons supported the armour at every turn, keeping pace with the thrust north by virtue of the APCs.

***

A number of Messian super-heavy tanks stopped their fighting withdraw to engage the attacking force, firing their high calibre gattlings at the attacking attack choppers, while in fact charging forward in what could almost be considered to be a fall for the team, engaging the Farminan heavier tanks, and more specifically, the APC’s as the others retreated. The rest of the units moved in a full advance in the other direction; towards the city. Suddenly, Messian attack choppers flew in low, under the hill and tree line, then fired their high-calibre tri-barrel rotary cannons at the Farminan attack choppers, while firing their Hunter missiles at the Farminan anti-air units as they flew strategically.

***

As Salamander endorsed two minor counter offensives in the north to keep the enemy tied in knots; his major attack in the south continued north. As the superheavy tanks tried to halt the Farminan drive, the swarms Farminan Leviathans moved in from behind and the side of the superheavy tanks with speed, hammering them with numbers and on the weaker sides. Farminan artillery continued to use its mass to hamper the enemy retreat as entire regiments of Leviathans and their infantry support simply drove around the superheavy heavy tanks. APCs also avoided getting too close to these tanks and allowed their infantry to disembark a reasonable distance away (there was no concern the superheavies would be going anywhere fast). As helicopters crashed into the ground and Farminan anti-air units went up in flames; more anti-weaponry sounded as flak shells and portable SAMs flew into the air from cover. The jets Salmander had called in earlier to deal with problem streaked past in a flash, their missiles released to deal with the enemy helicopters before most people realised the 12-11s had arrived.

The Farminan infantry used their own tanks as cover as they aimed short range armour piercing rockets at the enemy tanks and tried rolling grenades under the enemy tanks. Some were chained down; more continued to deliver trouble to the enemy.

***

The Apocalypse superheavies weren’t going to give up without a fight however; their guns firing alternatively once a second with their large autoloaders, taking out a number of tanks before one after the other succumbed to the barrage. However, when some were destroyed, the gunners used the built-in forward and rear gattling armament to attempt to stem the infantry tide. One tank actually surrendered during the fierce fighting, but then another Apocalypse fired on that tank their own teammate to quell the morale-breaking of their men.

***

The Messian screening force was now more like a pile of bricks than a wall. Several divisions had broken off from Salamander's main group to strike the east of the city and chase down the retreating Messians before they could join the main group. APCs again allowed the infantry to keep up with the fast Leviathans. Some of the Farminan force mopped up, while Salamander was now trying to destroy the northern Messian pocket by hammering it from several angles.

Helicopters flung long range guided rockets into the retreat as artillery also hammered the Messians with everything they had, the shells often deliberately falling behind the Messian positions to place itself between them and their target. Machine guns did everything they could to chain down Messian infantry, both from tanks and helicopters. The Leviathans moved quickly, quicker than the Messians with shrapnel and machine gun weapons intent on destroying the Messian force.

***

MESB Fargo lay open. The southern pocket was ruined, those retreating were being massacred. The Farminans chose speed over strength and now they were explaining why. Timothy shook his head; the Messian leaders didn’t want to learn the reason why, not like this. Now it looked like Field Marshal Salamander was planning to share the treatment he'd given the southern pocket to the northern pocket, but more of it.

“This isn’t what you had in mind, is it?” asked Timothy.

“Not at all...” Snyder mused, “I’m going to speak with my directors about the final plan, if things don't shape up soon."

Timothy looked at the map again, “The plan was to trap the Farminans; now it looks likes that it is our force that walked into the trap.”

Snyder slammed his fists on the table, “This is unacceptable! Now I’m stretched too thin!”

“We need to look one step forward,” said Timothy, “After Sciren, what will the Farminans go for next?”

He walked over to the big map of MES. Trinity was gone. Farmina controlled the seas and was getting uppity in the air as well. Air raids on military and industrial targets had increased, even if Farmina was still being incredibly cautious.

Snyder shook his head, “What am I to do?”

“Make the best peace you can,” suggested Timothy, looking at the red patches on the map meaning rebellions, it looked like MES had a rash, both the Commander types and the democratic types.

He then towards Sciren, Timothy was convinced that was a write-off and a senseless waste of a force. Salamander had made a nasty trap and the Snyder had charged straight into it. Even Timothy had to admit it seemed like a good idea at the time; but most traps did, “If we can prevent the Farminan next move or at least slow it down we might get better terms.”

Timothy dragged his finger along the map, :North is forest for some distance and our pocket there might hold out. North east is MESB Fargo and if you go a distance further the rebel held capital. South east to Sector Beta and us. Where would you move?”

“All directions, to free up the beaches,” Snyder replied, “But mainly the capital."

Timothy nodded, “Unfortunately the Farminans unlike us can do two things at once. I agree however that the main push will go towards the capital to link up with the main group of rebels. Now we have three choices as I see it, scrap up everything we have spare to halt the Farminan drive before it starts, place a screen against the Farminans as we try and wipe out the Angelas-Francisco revolt once and for all, or scrap up everything we have spare to try and break the Farminan trap at Sciren.”

“Will you be able to knock down their missiles?” posed Timothy, “Who knows how many projectiles they for us to shoot down? Can we knock them all flat at once?”

“Depends how many they send after us,” Snyder replied, “The satellites have about thirty shots worth of juice before needing a lengthy recharge. So sixty, and that doesn’t count the Hurricane. The Hurricane can shoot all day because it combines that with a nuclear reactor.”

Snyder looked at the satellite map, “If they fired over a hundred at once, I can see some getting through. But that would be hard.”

“There are a lot of angles to approach from in space,” noted Timothy, “And we only have two laser satellites.”

“It would take the missile about ten minutes to reach orbit, and those beams and satellite can aim and hit in a fraction of that. That’s why we developed these a long time ago as a nuclear deterrent rather than using nuclear weapons,” Snyder replied.

“I suppose,” said Timothy, before moving back to Sciren, “What are we going to do here? Promise the centre that reinforcements are preparing to break them out and hope they keep the Farminans distracted long enough.”

Snyder shook his head. He walked up to Timothy and put his hand on his shoulder. Before he could react though, Timothy felt his rank patch get taken off his shoulder.

“Oh,” said Timothy, looking at his toes, “So we aren't going to lie through our teeth to the condemned.”

“Not quite,” Snyder said as he took the patch away. He went to a drawer in the room, and shuffled through it; eventually he took something out of it. He walked back to Timothy.

Snyder reached over, and strapped on a new rank patch onto his shoulder. “Timothy Reis, I hereby give you a field commission of Executive Director, effective immediately. Your orders are to stop this war in our favor by any and all means necessary.”

Timothy smiled gratefully looked at the map, “I want your opinion, do we make one last counteroffensive or do we try a stand at the capital?:

“Either way, we’re fucked,” Snyder replied, “You know Farminan psychology a lot more than I do. That’s why I promoted you.”

Timothy wasn’t a military expert, but he couldn’t see the main force being able to break out. “It’ll be night soon,” said Timothy, “We evacuate what’s left of the north pocket then. I’m going to Angelas-Francisico. I want everyone and everything you can send, including Directors.”

He then added ironically, “The Farminans seem more likely to make peace than your own people are.”

Snyder winced. “No offense, but what the fuck is wrong with your people?”

Timothy looked again at the map of the Farmina advance, “They have to win. They can't allow it to be any other way. They thought they had won, now forty-five years later its round two. They need to be sure this time that they have won.”

“So, are you saying that I should just cut to the chase, and initiate the Final Solution?” Snyder said sadly.

“Good grief no!” exclaimed Timothy, “Put out feelers with the ever-neutrals, err...the Macisikani. Whisper in their ear that you are ready to start talking and they might pass the word on.”

“Very well,” Snyder replied, “Good luck.”

Timothy hurried off trying to recruit everyone he could find in the secret base as a soldier. Anyone who declined had his name put on a list he would supply to Snyder.

***

“We’ve got’em,” said Salamander in his command tent, “We have the bulk of Snyder’s force in the biggest prison camp ever built.”

The difference with this prison camp was that the prisoners had guns and tanks and refused to admit they were prisoners. Someone named ‘Director Tim’ previously unknown to the Farminans was bellowing over the airwaves about a counter attack into Sciren to break out the force. Maybe it was coming maybe it wasn’t. ‘Director Tim’ demand the trapped men fight until and help arrived. Salamander severely wished they wouldn't. The Messians had to run out of food or munitions or men eventually; surely they would realise it.

Salamander looked at Ms Ackvick, his adjutant and his top generals, “Well done today. Good work.”

Colonel Richter observed, “How many men will need to stop the Messians walking out of the pocket?”

“A lot,” said Salamander, “But not too many. It’s worse for Snyder. That’s my opinion. Do you agree Ms Ackvick?”

She looked with her binoculars down towards where they were held. “You should try to bombard them from the air, while holding a full perimeter. They don’t have a lot of anti-air left, other than those tanks.”

She looked over to Salamander. “Have any high-altitude bombers?”

“We do indeed,” said Salamander, “We do indeed. None the less, I don’t think they are going anywhere. And they aren’t going to be getting any supplies. Let’s see them fight without more munitions or fresh food. I am however concerned about the threat by this ambitious new Director to break into Sciren and let our prisoners out.”

Richter looked over the map, “They saved a bit of their northern pocket by pulling back into the woods where we didn’t give chase. If they can reinforce that, they'll be able to break in.”

“Attacking through the forest,” said Salamander, “I doubt it. I’d attack from the east, better land in that direction, plus they can use MESB Fargo for support. Ms Ackvick, your thoughts?”

She looked up into the sky. “Bomb them sky-high, and your problem will cease. Best of all, you'll get a dead Director free, if reports are correct.”

“If our prisoners roll over and die that easily I’ll be amazed,” said Salamander, “None-the-less we shall commence crushing them tomorrow. I also want to take an army to attack MESB Fargo; I believe that should keep Snyder too busy to bother us here.”

“The base is empty,” a sore voice came over Amy’s radio, which was being used to communicate to Anderson after taking a big hit, “The entire force stationed there, except aircraft, all attacked here.”

He then examined the map looking further ahead, “I’d still like it occupied, its one of the biggest bases around. Would you both agree that our schwerpunkt should be Angelas-Francisico so we can join up with the other surviving commanders?”

Amy nodded. “Yeah...” her voice went distant when thinking about her husband. “Is he still alive?”

“Yes he is,” said Salamander, “Well last I heard he was. He is on our ‘They fight with us’ poster.”

She nodded, “Just making sure. From my end, news has been sparse.”

“I better get onto the Supreme Commander and start organising our next move,” said Salamander, “My guess is the Messians aren’t going to take kindly to any attempts to reach Angelas-Francisco.”

Amy scoffed, “Do you have any paratroopers around?”

“Some,” said Salamander, “But I don’t want to drop my men into a target surrounded by Snyder’s.”

“Wasn’t the plan,” Amy replied, “I’d like to drop into the city before you pack up and move. I have an idea which should work brilliantly.”

“Into Sciren?” said Salamander, “That is not my idea of safe, nor sane.”

Amy swatted Salamander on the side of the head. “No, doofus. I meant Angelas-Francisco.”

“Ah,” said Salamander, “There I can take you.”

Samander pointed to a stack of “Lady Liberty” posters, “You can take those if you want, when do you want to leave. It’ll probably be at least a week before my forces break the lines around the capital.”

“Immediately. Preferably at night to prevent from being spotted,” she replied.

“Midnight tonight,” said Salamander, “Very well. See you in Angelas-Francisco.”

She nodded. “Give those animals deserve,” she replied coolly.

OOC: Phase 1 (http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y145/Farmina/Counterattack.jpg) Phase 2 (http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y145/Farmina/CA2.jpg)

Valdir looked over a secret communication from Snyder with vague interest. She'd never liked the man, when she bothered to think of him that is. In fact, she didn't like the MES as a whole... or any foreigners really, come to think of it... the Klatch were OK, and the Vaadians were strange but nice... the Farminans were a little sharp... and the ViZioners were lovely people, but...
The Minister shook herself and came back to reality.
"Was this encrypted?" she asked.
Dame Miranda, Secretary of State for Imperial Security frowned. "Not very well..." she said. "I expect the slicers already sold it to the highest bidder." The Secretary's normally grandmotherly disposition seemed subdued. Valdir closed her eyes.
"Which one?"
"Daldirdiek."
Valdir shook her head, while her ever-present Rechtaire heaved a sigh.
"Great," Perez said. "If they have it, the Vash do too...
"... and the rest of the Metropolitan Arc will by lunchtime," Dame Miranda finished.
"And every pirate in the Covenant will be laying off the Messian coast by tomorrow, just as sure as God made green apples," the First Minister's voice crackled out of a speaker.
Valdir didn't open her eyes. "If they aren't already," she murmured.
Perez waited a moment, then spoke.
"Shall we respond?"
"Ask him why the hell we should lift a finger, but tell Ambassador Co'nor to pass the message onto the Farminans."
"Should we tell the Farminans what we think?" Valdir's eyes opened.
"Tell them last week's lotto numbers for all I care." there was a click.
"Cheer up Minister, retirement's only about eight hundred years away," Dame Miranda said, all too cheerfully.
The only response she got was a baleful glare.

-------------
In the event, Valdir fired off two communiqués. Both were short, sharp, and to the point. The Ambassador to Farmina relayed his one. The Messians got theirs directly from the MEA. If Snyder was astute enough to read what was being said between the lines, the answer was "no, but you can talk us into it."

OOC: Communique from Macisikan.

To: MES, ATTN Lord Snyder

Until good cause can be demonstrated for the involvement of His Most Serene Majesty's Government in this particular military engagement, the stance of His Serene Majesty's Government remains centred around our continuous policy of non-involvement, and as such, we are presently disinclined to acquiesce to your request.

MEA

The comms screen flickered for a moment, “With his people’s loyalty wavering badly, the defeat at Sciren was a blow that Snyder can’t afford.”

“I understand that Supreme Commander Aricar,” said President Tobias Grey, his fat face bouncing, “Still I want you and your Field Marshal to push ahead with your plans. Snyder might be beaten; but he isn’t dead. I find this highly disagreeable.”

“Then you won’t be negotiating with him,” said Chancellor Sullivan, “We have just received word…”

“Shut up,” said Tobias Grey, “I don’t want to hear what you might say next. Lord Commander, that is all.”

“Very well,” said Aricar, “Signing off.”

The comms screen went blank. Tobias Grey turned to his current Chancellor for Foreign Affairs, “Talk abstractly.”

“How interested are you in talking with Snyder?” said Sullivan.

“It depends how interested Snyder is in talking with me,” said Tobias Grey, “I’d rather talk to him when he is dead.”

Sullivan looked at the map which marked most of the Militia Enforced State, “Lets say, in abstract, Snyder is using the backdoor, not the front. I also notice we could soon close on Angelas-Francisco.”

“That’s what I was looking at,” said Tobias Grey, “If Salamander succeeds in breaking into the Messian capital then we really have done what we set out to do. Breaking into Angelas-Francisco will be going for the kill.”

“Then he won’t be asking via the backdoor,” observed Sullivan, “Snyder will be begging on his knees. I will ask our contacts to stall, buying time to reach the Messian capital.”

The Minister, her rechtaire, and the Deputy Minister were all regarding Snyder's latest transmission with expressions mixing incredulity, shock, and surprise.
"They thought we'd give them military assistance?" Valdir asked aloud.
"It gets better," her personal secretary chuckled.
They read down. They stopped. They read it again.
Then they began laughing. It was laughter without humour, harsh and mocking.
"Was that an appeal to our better natures?" Deputy Minister Aldreset managed to choke out.
"Wasn't aware we ever had them," rechtaire Perez murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind an ear.
"And this came in from the embassy in Farmina..." the personal secretary handed the three copies of the transmission.
"Pompous git," Aldreset remarked.
"Seamus has a cool head," Valdir waved the comment away. "He won't care."
There was silence for a few minutes. Then Valdir resumed speaking.
"He wants a delay? Fine. Get me the Fifth Circuit Covenant Foreign Affairs Committee; they're free," she snapped "Have them start deposing testimonies now."
Aldreset frowned. "Who's on the fifth?"
"Two SGDs from each of the divisions," Perez answered promptly. "Four from the minor states. Arn-Paldiz, Vakatavi, East Brechan, and Sakenburg. The chair is open. deRenci?"
"deRenci," Valdir nodded. "He'll hate me for it; buy him a week in Arn-Setakai with his wife. Question before the committee is to consider the feasibility of facilitation of negotiations between the DRF and the MES."
Perez turned away and began talking into a phone.
"They sit in the Red Bailey," Valdir said softly. "And they're in town."
"Doghouse turn?" Aldreset used the term meaning that it was the turn of that group to hang around in case Valdir needed them.
"In a word... yes. Julia? Depositions from Daldirdiek, the Vash, SIS, the embassy, the Farminans, both government and embassy..."

**********
deRenci strode into the committee's conference room, and took his place at the head of the oaken table.
"Right. Everyone here? Yes? Good. Let's start," he said, arranging papers, folders, and pens.
"This meeting of the Fifth Circuit Covenant Foreign Affairs Committee will come to order. Question before this session is the feasibility of facilitating negotiations between the DRF and the MES. I have a dinner in two hours with the Tredyens, so let's make this quick. Valdir wants depositions from the following parties..."

**********

Official Communiqué
Classification: confidential
From: V-CCFAC(MEA)
To: Tuísech Seamus mac Co'nor, Ambassador to Farmina
Subject: Facilitation of negotiations

Your Excellency,

You are instructed to provide deposition to this committee regarding your estimation of the facilitation of negotiations between the DRF and the MES as soon as possible.

The objective of such negotiations would be the cessation of hostilities.

Baron Tierce Alexander deRenci, Chairman of the Fifth Circuit Covenant Foreign Affairs Committee
Baronet Celestine Alarl, His Serene Majesty's Ambassador-General

------------------------------

Official Communiqué
Classification: confidential
From: V-CCFAC(MEA)
To: Jason Snyder, Militia Enforced State
Subject: Facilitation of negotiations

Director Snyder, Greetings,

This Committee has been formally appointed by the Minister of External Affairs to consider your request that we facilitate negotiations between your nation and the DRF.

As such, this Committee is now formally requesting that you provide reason for our consideration as to why His Serene Majesty's Government should facilitate any negotiations between yourselves and the government of Farmina.

As the decision depends on the deliberations of this body, I would recommend that you make your case carefully.

Baron Tierce Alexander deRenci, Chairman of the Fifth Circuit Covenant Foreign Affairs Committee

------------------------------

Official Communiqué
Classification: confidential
From: V-CCFAC(MEA)
To: Phillip Sullivan, DRF Chancellor for Foreign Affairs
Subject: Facilitation of negotiations

Chancellor Sullivan, greetings and salutations,

His Serene Majesty's Minister for External Affairs has appointed to this committee the task of determining the feasibility of any negotiations facilitated by His Serene Majesty's Government between your government and the MES.

This has been done in response to a request by the MES that we facilitate such negotiations which have the objective being the cessation of hostilities.

To that end, this committee is formally requesting that you state your position regarding such a proposal, and any recommendations you wish to make regarding such diplomatic overtures from the MES.

Baron Tierce Alexander deRenci, Chairman of the Fifth Circuit Covenant Foreign Affairs Committee

------------------------------

Official Communiqué
Classification: confidential
From: V-CCFAC(MEA)
To: Illorin Romano, Farminan Ambassador to the Covenant
Subject: Facilitation of negotiations

Your Excellency,

His Serene Majesty's Government is formally requesting your recommendations regarding any facilitation of negotiations between your government and the MES.

The objective of such negotiations would be the cessation of hostilities.

Baron Tierce Alexander deRenci, Chairman of the Fifth Circuit Covenant Foreign Affairs Committee

Amelia was due north. North-west was Dylaria shipyards and Dylaria. Supreme Commander Varius Aricar had finally left Trinity to get a look at the mainland. Trinity was now being administered by a group of Messians collaborating heavily with the Farminan government. Those Messians seemed to want to be Farminans; though Aricar suspected that was a façade to get themselves power and wealth.

Standing on the bow of a Messian dreadnought did not make him feel secure. Farminan victories made him feel secure. An engine off to the east of him indicated that another ship was going out to cause trouble for the Messians. The Farminan navy was now helping the Marines seize offshore mining facilities all around the MES. Just another few nail in Snyder’s coffin, though after Sciren there was more than enough.

Commander Aricar looked down into the water. Allegedly there were submarines down there. Those submarines were also about to start their own little campaign, targeting the underwater defences of the Messians around MES Sector Beta. Reports spoke of sensitive wires that set off alarms when touched. Aricar wondered what happened when you detonated a torpedo amongst the wires, if it would cause the biggest alarm of all time. Only one way to find out….

To: Baron Tierce Alexander deRenci, V-CCFAV, Macisikan
From: Department of Foreign Affairs, Farmina
Subject: Receipt of Macisikani communiqué

We have no objection to this exact message being relayed to Lord Snyder.

It is the position of President Tobias Grey that the Democratic Republic of Farmina is officially willing to negotiate with the Snyder Directorate under Macisikani mediation. Such negotiations will not however be unconditional.

A ceasefire must be put in place not only between the DRF and the Snyder Directorate, but also with those loyal to the Force Commander Regime and Messians for Democratic Change. All of these parties will be represented at the negotiations.

The second concern relates to timing. After an implementation of a general ceasefire, we request five days to evaluate the situation.

Thirdly, all parties will administer the territory they hold until more permanent arrangements are agreed without interference from other parties.

Fourthly, the blockade of the Militia Enforced State will remain in place till negotiations are complete.

Finally, the Snyder Directorate will surrender all of its space facilities, including the Hurricane, and twenty percent of its military haulage capacity to the DRF.

These conditions are non-negotiable.

Phillip Sullivan
Chancellor for Foreign Affairs
Democratic Republic of Farmina

Dan Rickhart walked into the current hideout of the remaining Commanders and their top aides, "Look what I found."

Pulling her through the door, Daniel Rickhart pulled Amy Ackvick into the room, "The wind picked up more speed than she realised. The wind picked up more speed than she realised."

James looked over to Rickhart. "This better be..." he said, then going silent. "...Amy?!"

"Apparently she goes by the name of Liberty these days," said Rickhart, looking at a Farminan poster, before shutting up. He didn't want to interrupt the reunion. Amy locked her eyes on James, then flashed him a smile. "James!"

The two rushed to each other and embraced with great ferocity. They both started to cry. "I thought you were dead!" James said, overjoyed.

She shook her head in the nook of his neck. "I did."

Ackvick loosened the embrace, and looked at her. "What do you mean?" Ackvick said.

She frowned, but then smiled. "Best way to put it, I'm a virgin again."

Ackvick gave an incredulous look at her. "You mean..."

She looked into his eyes. "Yes."

"Full body transplant?"

She nodded. "My internal organs were so badly damaged that my body was completely incapable of sustaining my life. They put my body and mind into a brain-sustaining machine, while they grew a replacement body."

Ackvick's head looked down. "I'm sorry that I couldn't protect you." She smiled, and gave him a kiss. "It wasn't exactly your fault, hon," she said.

"Since you dropped in," began Rickhart, "I'm rather curious as to how. Someone needed to fly you here?"

She frowned. "I've betrayed the cause. I got flown in by a Farminan paratrooper aircraft."

James then also frowned. "You did what?!"

"Sort of explains the Farminan posters," noted Rickhart, "Although I'd remind Mister Ackvick that he is also on a Farminan poster and has given Tobias Grey a big hand."

"Uhh....what?!" James stammered. He and Dasch hadn't been told that Foster also was working for the Farminans.

"You are leading a revolt during a Farminan invasion," said Rickhart, "Now you can't deny that." Rickhart suspected that James wanted to deny it; but that was different from being able to deny it.

"I..." James stammered as Amy started to hold him tightly. "..." He then sighed. "You're right. We already lost; even if we took over Snyder's government, we'd lose anyways."

Rickhart wondered if the rebels themselves were fracturing. He didn't raise the comment, "Have you heard the latest statements from this new Exectutive Director?"

James regained his composure while holding onto Amy. "Yes, I have. The name is Timothy Reis, and there's rumors circling, but I haven't confirmed them, but he's Farminan."

"He sounds like a pyschopath to me," said Rickhart, "He's been yelling all over the frequencies about an inevitable victory for the Directorate. Promising to hang every rebel he catches as a traitor and Farminan lovers."

Amy muttered to herself, then couldn't resist speaking up. "You're all psychopaths, the whole bunch of ya's."

James looked down at her. "Amy...stop it!" he said firmly.

"After you fought for them in Sciren, Lady Liberty," observed Rickhart with a twisted smirk.

Amy growled, then held onto James tighter. "Leave her be, please," James requested. "I don't think you've had what she's been through happen to you."

"Very well," said Rickhart, "Shall we get to the nuts and bolts then?"

She turned her head towards Rickhart. "Check my bag. It has the plans to bring our military back into line, and to hopefully rout the force southwest of the capital."

"The Farminans plan to reach Angelas-Francisco?" asked Rickhart, "Despite their gains, it is quite some distance."

Amy had a serious look on her face. "Yes, that's what they plan on doing. The group is even being lead by a commander named Salamander. Are you familiar with him?"

"He was in charge of the army of the north," said Rickhart, "Then was promoted after defeating Snyder's force in Alice."

Amy nodded. "Well, I suppose we should make the arrangement at dawn," she replied. "I personally need the rest; I've been on my feet and on my own for a few months now." James nodded to Rickhart to dismiss him, then escorted Amy to a private room to catch up on things, and cry.

Field Marshal Salamander looked towards central Sciren. In the north-east Brigadier General Varner was leading a force to take MESB Fargo. The entire northern pocket had withdrawn into the forest and the Farminans weren’t keen to chase them. Explorations into the forest north of Sciren proved that ‘entire’ didn’t cover snipers and machine gun nests.

The Messians in Sciren remained his biggest problem (even if they were also Snyder’s biggest problem). The sooner the pocket surrendered the better. It had to run out of something eventually, be it bullets, rations, morale or people. Any of those failed, so would the pocket. General Werner had gathered up his forces, now Field Marshal Salamander wanted to launch a series of attrition battles to drive the Messians back into the city center.

FastFirers were moved well forward as infantry armed with rifles and machine guns sat waiting in buildings to open fire at the Messian positions across the street. Suppressor and Behemoth tanks were called in support the infantry, but Salamander had been clear they were not to be overly active. Reserve infantry stood ready to storm the buildings held by the enemy after their strength had been whittled away.

The battle began slowly, first the snipers started picking off the occasional Messians. Messians returned the favour quickly. Then nearly every machine gun and rifle began opening up. Colonel Richter took off his head set, “Sir the Messian communications are flaring like wild fire. From what we can tell, they think whoever is in charge here must be one slice short of a loaf to start stirring things up. They are rushing over everything they have in the east, leaving a skeleton force there.”

“I’ll thank them for the compliment first chance I get,” said Salamander, “General demolish the enemy positions.”

FastFirers opened up, supported by helicopters, smashing up centers of resistance. The Messian positions were quickly overwhelmed as the reserves were brought forward to occupy buildings still standing. Several Messians were captured, more managed to escape the onslaught. Shells landed on some of those trying to flee. Amongst the Farminans it was the reserves that took the highest casualties, used for the expensive task of crossing the street. Casualties were about equal, slightly higher for the Messians who were at a severe disadvantage on the issue of supplies.

As they were dislodged from the last houses in western Sciren, the Messians had now concentrated most of their strength in central Sciren, including all their heavy armour. It was nearly as though the person in charge was yelling, “Try taking us on now. You might have caught us by surprise but now we’re ready you bastard.”

Salamander thought that was what was being said. Despite for a moment having torn off the western side of the Sciren pocket they’d quickly patched it up heavier than before, he’d pay like crazy to advance further. “Halt the offensive,” said Salamander, “Bring in the jets.”

Five minutes later Farminan 12-11s soon flew overhead of central Sciren, releasing their munitions. “Active the charges,” said Salamander, to his adjutant.

In the previous days retreat through central Sciren, charges had been placed at the bases on most of the buildings, with the intention on literally bringing Sciren down on their heads. Such move had been delayed, until now.

Explosions roared west of Salamander, both from the charges and the missiles. The skyscrapers seemed to be collapsing on the Messian concentration in slow motion. “Contact whoever is in charge of the Messian bulge,” said Salamander, “Repeat our request for their surrender.”

The radios on Salamander’s end were silent for a two good minutes until a person, who Salamander hadn't even heard of before, stammered onto the radio. “We surrender! For all that is holy, we surrender!”

“My goodness,” said Salamander, “I didn’t expect that.”

Richter spoke firmly into the radio, “Abandon your weapons and walk out to Farminan positions with your hands in the air. Farminan troops will move in to collect the wounded.”

The voice continued a fearful stammer, “Understood. Please don't fire on us!”

Suddenly, another radio call came through to Salamander, from the forces north of the city “We surrender!”

“Surrender accepted,” said Richter, “Put down you weapons and move with your hands up to the nearest Farminan position.”

***

In the span of a half hour, a few thousand Messian troops, with their arms behind their head, started marching towards the Farminan lines.

The Farminans prepared to search each Messian before sending them to prison camps for the rest of the war. More Farminans would be called forward to cautiously occupy the old Messian positions. Salamander didn't think Snyder would stoop that low, but it could have been a trap.

Farminan troops moved to cautiously search the areas the Messians had been holding in small groups. If this was a trap, casualties needed to be minimised.

As they reached the bombing location, a surprising lack of bodies could be seen. In addition, most of the tanks were simply abandoned, not damaged as previously expected.

“Seize them,” ordered Captain Striker, “Take everything we can.”

When a few of the officers came around the corner, where a skyscraper used to stand, an Armageddon tank sat there. The tank had what could only be described as a 150 ton I-Beam skewered it from the collapse.

“Tank kebab,” noted Captain Striker, “Better have some engineers come from Division HQ and check give her the once over.”

He looked to the east, in one of the standing buildings, the Farminan flag was now flying high.

The engineers from division soon arrived and were like children on a field day playing with their new toy, although were unimpressed that someone had put a beam through their tank. Striker shook his head. “Where do you suppose all the Messians went?” asked Lt Ward.

Striker looked at his feet, “Most I think are in camps. We’ve found a few corpses. I reckon the rest are under the sky scraper we are standing on.”

The engineers prowling deep inside the mammoth tank found a body, skewered in half by the I-Beam, the lower part nothing more than small chunks of meat. Blood was everywhere, but the uniform was unusual.

“This fellow is wearing a red uniform,” said one of the engineers.

“That’s blood you twat,” called Striker, climbing into the tank, shaking his head at the engineer.

“What sort of uniform is this?” called out the engineer.

“Executive Director, I think it is Reagan Hamilton,” said Striker.

***

In the morgue, the upper part of Reagan Hamilton was placed a concrete table for examination, while the lower half (or what was found of it) was placed in a plastic container, looking something like an impossible jigsaw.

After the autopsy was complete and Hamiliton was confirmed not to have biological irregularities like a bomb in his belly, the mighty came to inspect the dead.

Anderson walked up to the body, limping on crutches because of his broken legs. His doctors told him to stay in the hospital, but this was too important to miss.

“Yep...that’s the bastard,” Anderson confirmed.

“Doesn't look so tough now,” said Salamander, “I’d like to see Snyder’s propaganda networks deny that their second in command was impaled alive.”

“That snake...hell of a way to go,” Anderson replied.

“Shame we couldn’t stick him on trial and hang him,” said Salamander, “Still, there is always Snyder.”

Anderson nodded, “With him dead, no wonder why there is a new executive director. I wonder if Snyder actually wrote Hamilton off even before that airstrike.”

“Trapped in our net, he was pretty well stuck, unless Snyder decided to try and him out,” said Salamander, “Perhaps it was punishment.”

“Perhaps,” Anderson concurred, “Perhaps.”

“Fighting has broken out around MESB Fargo,” said Salamander, “Not big fights, more like Snyder’s men are trying to be pains in the neck. We’ve also found severe damage to the roads between here and Angelas-Francisco. It looks like someone is trying to stop us getting there.”

“Well,” Anderson said, “With the presents left by Snyder’s men, the roads may not be as hard to navigate as you may think. If you jury-rigged the super-heavy tanks with bulldozing equipment, you could clear a path easily.”

“I think you might have a point,” said Salamander, “And with the pocket in Sciren gone we will have a lot of free troops I didn’t expect.”

Anderson nodded. “With those tanks, you can match anything we have to offer,” Anderson added, “All of the tanks you went against here were all at least somewhat more powerful and dangerous than even your medium tanks.”

“The Supreme Commander thinks he was hilarious,” said Salamander, picking up the military newspaper, “He tried overnight to set off every alarm Snyder has, by detonating torpedo in his anti-sub wire networks.”

Anderson grabbed onto the paper, and limped along with Salamander. “I don’t think he cares much,” Anderson commented. “At this point, Snyder doesn’t even have a navy.”

“He does however a ruined defence network,” said Salamander, “And now a submarines will have a good chance of hitting land targets with immunity. Marines are taking over the offshore mining centers and the nation is under blockade; even if Snyder wins a military victory on land, his economy will be ruined.”

“Which is unlikely,” Anderson said as they went around the corner.

“Indeed,” said Salamander, lighting up a cigarette, “Do you want one?”

Anderson shook his head, “I don’t smoke. But thanks for the offer.”

Colonel Richter hurried over, “The First Corps, Third Army has expelled the Messians from MESB Fargo. We expect continuing nuisances, especially from snipers, but that’s life. We are sending our own snipers ahead of the main force to try and equalise them out.”

“Good show,” said Salamander, “Organise a car. I’ll go down to Fargo myself.”

A few minutes later one of the command cars arrived. “Care to join me Mister Anderson,” said Salamander as Richter jumped in the car, along with a body guard for Salamander.

Anderson smirked, “So are we also prisoners, or are we helping you?”

“Helping,” said Salamander, “Even if some of your men have won POW status.”

He smiled, “Good. So how do you wish to deploy our group?”

“Your forces will probably be incorporated into my left wing,” said Salamander, hopping into the car, “My superior insists I do this; are you coming?”

He nodded, as he limped to the other side of the car.

The car drove the short distance to the recently captured MESB Fargo. There was a good reason the building was on the map. A whole regiment remained behind to protect it and Salamander as the main force continued down the road. In the distance occasional gun battles could be heard, it sounded like war a relaxed, leisurely pace.

Salamander stepped out of the car, to be greeted by a team of military journalists, who Salamander seemed to snub. Farminan construction teams were doing their best to repair the roads, to make shifting supplies north-east as easy as possible.

“The Farminan flag flies above MESB Fargo,” said Salamander, “Who would have thought we would have reached here so quickly.”

“You also didn’t expect to run into Amy either,” Anderson pointed out.

“Ain’t that the truth,” said Colonel Richter.

One of military photographers said, “Lord Marshal, could you just stand next to the road sign?”

Salamander sighed and did what he was told; standing by the road sign in front of MESB Fargo, the Farminan flag behind the Field Marshal. One side of the sign pointed to “Sciren” the other side pointed to “Angelas-Francisco”.

After a series of flashes, the photographer said, “Thank you Lord Marshal, these’ll make mighty fine material for the public. We even got some footage.”

One of the journalists said, “You better give the TV and the radio some words....What do you have to say about this stunning series of victories?”

Salamander played the role as he was taught by the more politically astute Aricar, leaning against the signpost he pompously declared, “Next stop, Angelas-Francisco!”

OOC: Communique to Macisikan.

Note: Slightly tweaked; don't use my bad grammar against Snyder! :p

Militia Enforced State
Private Communique

We request mediation, because Farmina is commiting an illegal war against us. Originally, we attacked their nation in retaliation for an unprovoked attack by a rogue corporation called Reaction Corps. They caused the deaths of many Messian sailors, and our retaliation was fair and just.

However, they were able to repel our invasion, and now they have decided to destroy our own, non-corrupted government, whereas their own government is horribly corrupted, with terrorists, special interest groups, corrupt politicians, and a complete lack of democratic process during the past three years.

The Farminan nation is an extremely dangerous religious state, and only through mediation, negotiations and sanctions, can this powerhouse be brought under control.

However, at this time, all I ask for is negotiations to stop the loss of innocent Messian and Farminan lives. I am willing to cease hostilities in all areas, and to allow the Loyalist Messian and Democratic factions into this negotiations. However, I cannot accept the loss of our space program, as I refuse to allow our only advantage against an invading force, to fall into enemy hands.

- Lord Director Jason Snyder
Militia Enforced State

The Messian deposition was not received well. deRenci didn't care a whit for the humanitarian concerns of foreigners, and he cared even less for the governing political systems of other nations and foreigners' opinions thereof.
But it was the notation about a "extremely dangerous religious state" that inflamed tempers beyond belief. As deRenci observed in handing down the Committee's findings, the Macisikani head of state was also the head of the Macisikani Church; if that didn't denote a "religious state" he didn't know what did.

Depositions, testimonies, and and the full body of the report were classified and sealed for five years in foreign affairs matters; only the executive summary was made even remotely public.

In theory at least. Soon, someone would be asked to find out exactly how the Messian deposition and telegrams found their way into the hands of the Lord Archbishop of Sar-Agara.


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



[Printed in the Arn-Maciska Times (International Edition), and published online with MNB]

Findings of the Fifth Circuit Covenant Foreign Affairs Committee
Executive Summary
[declassified]

His Most Serene Majesty's Government treats all requests for diplomatic assistance of any sort with the utmost serious, and the request from Director Snyder is no exception.

The matter was referred to the Fifth Circuit Covenant Foreign Affairs Committee for consideration and recommendation of the appropriate course of action to His Most Serene Majesty's Government. The question before Committee was that of the feasibility and appropriateness of hosting and facilitating negotiations between the protagonist parties in the conflict between the Democratic Republic of Farmina and the Militia Enforced State with the aim of a permanent cessation of hostilities in that conflict.

Depositions on the matter were sought from the protagonist parties in three areas and received in two, and sought and received from six Covenant nations most directly concerned with trans-gard affairs. Depositions were also sought and received from the Office of the Minister of External Affairs, the Ambassador to Farmina, the Secretariat of State for Internal Security and several subsets thereof comprising various security organisations.

Amicus Submissions were deposited with the committee from the ten Minor States comprising the so-called "Metropolitan Arc", and the Minor State of the Constans Islands, and Amicus Testimony was heard from several notable individuals and organisations, as well as the Ambassador from the Federation of Wisjersey who also submitted a deposition on behalf of his government. Eight additional depositions were submitted from several other nations in Vårheim.

In total 12 depositions and 4 testimonies were sought. 41 depositions and 23 testimonies, including amicii, were received and admitted by the Committee.

The Committee has considered all submissions and testimonies carefully and fully, and examined the relevant precedents, cases, and treaties.

The conclusion of the Committee, based upon reasoning contained herein, is that the interests of the Covenant are not best served at this time by facilitating any negotiations between Farmina and the Militia Enforced State.

We advise the Minister to reject the request.


Official Public Statement of the Office of the Minister of External Affairs
[published in the Imperial Media, distributed to foreign media, and cc'd to the governments of the MES, DRF, and rebel Messian factions]

Under advisement from the Fifth Circuit Covenant Foreign Affairs Committee, the Minister for External Affairs regretfully declines to accommodate the petition of the MES at this time.

- MEA

The map said it all. Field Marshal Salamander had brought his army group all the way to Angelas-Francisco and the force loyal to Snyder looked ready to keel over and die. The Messians had done everything in their power to slow the Farminans down. The Farminan troops didn’t stop, they just kept moving. Tobias Grey nodded at the map, as though the map would appreciate his approval.

Other maps showed the sea; there, Farmina ruled without question. The Farminan navy blocked Messian ports. Everything offshore now was the property of the Republic. The offshore mining had been Snyder’s cash cow, now Tobias Grey had closed them down. Reagan Hamilton had his just desserts for allying himself with tyranny; all in all Tobias Grey was a happy man.

“Snyder rebuked,” said Chancellor Sullivan, “Rebuked and rebuked again.”

“The Macisikanis have certainly done us a favour, closing another avenue of escape for the tyrant,” said Tobias Grey, “and now we have Snyder’s location.”

“I wish you would have us send a wave of bombers to flatten it,” said Sullivan.

“We shall leave him be, let him think he is safe,” said Tobias Grey.

“And the Hurricane?” asked Sullivan.

“I hope we can still force him to hand over that toy,” said Tobias Grey, “It would be a waste if he forced us to blow it out of the sky.”

“For that we need Snyder at the table,” noted Sullivan.

“And now there is one less table for him to choose from,” noted Grey, “Will he able to swallow his pride and ask us directly for talks?”

“It would require him to admit we have him down,” said Sullivan.

“And once we have him down,” said Grey, “we’ll hold him there.”

“You won’t believe who we have on the line,” said Ms Reilly, Tobias Grey’s communication officer.

“If it is Santa, I agree, I won’t believe you,” said President Grey.

“Jason Snyder,” said Ms Reilly.

“Well then you better put him through,” said Grey, “No point delaying the inevitable.”

“We need to negotiate,” Snyder said, bluntly.

“And hello to you,” said Tobias Grey, “Things not going to plan? Very well, I shall host you at the White Palace. Is that what you wanted?”

Snyder growled. “I’d say something to that statement, but I’d rather be in person.”

"However," said Tobias Grey, “I expect you to come to these negotiations seriously. That pocket between my forces and Angelas-Francisco must surrender and the area they control be occupied by Farminan troops. The rebels will be allowed to join the negotiations and the ceasefire. The Farminan naval and aerial blockade will remain in place. You will surrender the Hurricane and twenty percent of your military haulage capacity.”

“I cannot let my last advantage fall into your hands,” Snyder replied, “If you were in my situation, would you want to give up your only advantage?”

“I’ll take your satellites instead,” said Tobias Grey, “Would you disagree with that?”

“How about eighty percent of my airlifting force?” Snyder counter offered.

“Eighty percent,” said Tobias Grey, “Plus one of your new weapons and fifty percent of your ground haulage.”

“Forty,” Snyder countered.

“No deal,” said Tobias Grey, “Field Marshal Salamander is just about to strike at your last desperate stand south west of your capital.”

“Fifty,” Snyder confirmed.

“Good,” confirmed Tobias, “The ceasefire commences on the hour, as of when you hand over all you said you would. Talks begin on Monday week, nine o’clock Verica time.”

“Goodbye Lord Snyder,” said the President, then hanging up.

Snyder muttered after the phone disconnected, “That bastard...”

Messians north-east of Field Marshal Salamander’s position were streaming towards him. Soldiers on other Messian fronts were handing over logistics trucks and aircrafts. “Its over,” said Field Marshal Salamander, “We’ve done our part; now the politicians will fight their part of the war drinking wine and smoking fat cigars.”

“Perhaps they will loosen the ration system,” suggested Colonel Richter, “and we can get decent cigarettes, booze and coffee.”

“Perhaps,” said Salamander, “Something tells me that the high-ups don’t think we are out of the woods yet.”

***

Trinity Square was as packed; or at least as packed as anywhere in the abandoned island of Trinity could be. Most of the crowd was Farminan soldiers and functionaries, but the turn out of locals was impressive. The ceasefire seemed to imply the war was over. Now Tobias Grey had come to Trinity Island and the people were curious as to why. President Tobias Grey stood on Messian soil. Trinity was his and fairly won.

Security provisions in the square were tight. Everyone was searched twice on the way in (including the Farminans) and was subject to random searches in the square. They were also to be searched when leaving the square (the point of this wasn’t entirely clear). The Farminan military had taken control of the surrounding buildings and set up snipers to eliminate assassins and machine guns for if the crowd became severely out of hand. If one of those snipers weren’t loyal, things could easily come unstuck.

Tobias’s stage was high enough up to prevent people jumping on without using the well guarded stairs. Tobias Grey himself had several bodyguards to try and reduce unfortunate accidents. If someone shot at him; Tobias doubted they would be any use. The President was too big a target, in more ways than one.

Across from Tobias Grey stood a group of well dressed important looking people with even more bodyguards. The Trinity Island government had been made up of people from the Militia Enforced State, but was easily controlled by Tobias Grey with promises of wealth and power. A civilian authority of local collaborators made ruling Trinity easier. Tobias Grey approved Messians ruling Messians was safer than Farminans ruling Messians.

The head of the Trinity Island government, John Watkins stood up and walked to the lectern, “Fellow Trintites, Farminans, and the esteemed President of the Republic. I have an important announcement to make. The Trinity Island government, has applied to the Parliament of Farmina that Trinity Island be granted admission to the Democratic Republic of Farmina.”

The Farminan military presence had been grudgingly tolerated. The collaboration of the Trinity Island government had been tolerated, if only slightly less grudgingly. Now there was a silence in the crowd to the application by Messians to become Farminans (albeit Messian collaborators under Grey’s control). Shocked? Horrified? Curious? Tobias Grey thought all of them were likely answers.

Tobias Grey began to speak, “The rise of tyranny is the natural by-product of dictatorship. I warned Commander Ackvick himself of this, but he would not listen. Now he and the entire Messian nation are paying the price. Here in Trinity you are safe from the madness that Ackvick and Snyder have let loose on the continent. You will remain safe, I have received word from the Parliament on the Trinity Island government’s request for provincial status in Farmina. The Parliament by near unanimity accepts the proposal.”

Farminan soldiers cheered. A few Messians cheered, a few booed, while most remained silent. Trinity Provincial Police (the strong arm of the Trinity Island government, only just come into being) were amongst the crowd in plain clothes, taking note of who was responding how. Tobias Grey and the collaborators walked up to a table in the middle of the stage. Tobias Grey put down the proclamation by Parliament admitting Trinity into Farmina. Each of the members of the collaborator regime signed, followed by Tobias Grey himself.

Another round of cheering and heckling began; the guards indicating it was time to clap as Tobias Grey shook hands with the Trinity Island government. A banner dropped down from the top of the stage, slightly off cue, reading “The Parliament of Farmina welcomes the Province of Trinity into the Democratic Republic. Welcome to Farmina.”

“Welcome to the Democratic Republic of Farmina,” bellowed Tobias Grey, “Welcome my fellow Farminans.”

Posters that read ‘Saboteurs will be shot’ were pulled down; and new posters went up that read, ‘Traitors will be hanged’, reflecting the new reality. A boy of about ten cried to his mother, “I don’t want to be a Farminan. I won’t be.” One of the Trinity Provincial Police noted the boy and secretly photographed a potential troublemaker. The new order could not be too careful.

The Trinity Provincial Police were watching; the Trinity Secret Police were watching.

Jason Snyder couldn’t complain about his treatment. Tobias Grey was a fine host. Jason Snyder was feed well, entertained and perfectly housed, for days before the formal commencement of negotiations.

Now the real show was starting in, Tobias Grey's private lounge. The delegates sat on plush lounge chairs, around an oak coffee table, roaring fire in the background. A bottle of expensive red sat on the table. Tobias Grey sat on what had to be the biggest chair in the room. The surroundings were barely formal, but they certainly were not meek.

“Your facilities are quite impressive,” Snyder remarked. His hatred for the country was well hidden. Under his suit was the injector. He hadn’t used it in a while, and before, he wished he did.

“Can I offer you some wine?” said Tobias Grey, “The representatives from both rebel factions will also be joining us in a minute.”

Snyder smiled. “Gladly,” he replied.

Tobias poured Snyder a glass, before passing it over to him. Snyder took a small syringe-like device from his pocket, and stuck it into the drink. He clicked a button, pulled it out of the wine, and checked it.

“You can’t ever be too careful,” Snyder remarked, as he put it away after inspection

“It would be bad form to poison you,” said Tobias Grey, sipping more of his wine, before pressing his earpiece, “Yes bring them in.”

“Well, bad form or not, it would be practical...you God-damned snake...” Snyder said to Tobias, then went to a mutter that could be heard, as Snyder looked towards the Force Commanders. James Ackvick, Dasch, and Foster walked in line into the room.

“Wine?” the President gestured to his new arrivals.

The men sat down, “Thank you.”

Tobias Grey poured out more wine, “This is all four groups present; even if not present in equal power. Where shall we begin? Lord Snyder perhaps?”

A moment later, a few men walked into the room. They weren’t immediately recognized, “Messian Democratic section. My name is Wyatt McKennith.”

“Well met,” said Tobias Grey, pouring out more wine.

As the men sat down, Ackvick turned to Dasch. “The democratic section? What are they doing here?” he whispered. Dasch only shrugged.

“The ceasefire covers all rebel factions,” said Grey, “Now it was Snyder that called for these talks, so let us hear what he has for the table.”

Snyder frowned momentarily, feeling the pressure of being put of the spot. But then he regained his composure. “Right now, we have a war going on, made up of completely messed up reasons.”

“May I start by proposing the democratisation of the MES?” said Tobias Grey, “It might be an easier way of resolving your disputes than shooting at each other.”

“Absolutely not!” the former Force Commanders, and Snyder announced simultaneously. The democratic section nodded in defiance.

“Dictatorship working out so well?” struck Grey, pointing to the Messian internal conflict.

“Everything was fine before that snake got into power,” Ackvick snarled.

“Hey!” Snyder blurted.

“If it can happen once it can happen again,” said Grey, “And you still haven't gotten over the first bout.”

“We were going to implement a stronger democratic process anyways,” Dasch replied, “A transition, if you will.”

“Let me be quite clear,” said Tobias Grey, “Democratisation is not a request.”

There was murmuring between the Force Commanders, as well as the Democratic Section group.

“Now we have clarified that,” said Tobias Grey, “We must also be clear that Farmina intends to keep what it has earned.”

“We didn’t want this war,” Foster replied, “We didn’t want anything to do with you but help. Until that snake got involved, we were even close to being allies.”

“I’m not pleased with your tone,’ Snyder replied. Inside, he was furious.

“Do not take this personally,” said Grey, “It is just business. How much of my coffers have I paid to you Mister Foster? I owe you nothing.”

Tobias Grey continued in the same vein, “The Messians will pay the full cost of the war.”

Foster glared, “We didn’t have to make that alliance. Our timed rebellion saved millions of Farminan lives."

“Would you be at this table if it wasn’t for me?” asked Grey, calmly and politely, “No, you would be hanging from Snyder’s gallows.”

“See what your foolishness has done?” Snyder said furiously to the Force Commanders. “You’ve ruined us all in your little tirade against a just and intelligent rule!”

Tobias Grey placed his hand against his forehead, “The Militia Enforced state will also limit its military and space investments.”

Snyder looked at Tobias straight into the eye, “You will not destroy us like this. I said negotiations, not terms.”

“Do you wish to return to the battlefield?” said Tobias Grey.

Snyder’s eyes narrowed, “If you break negotiations, I will rue the end of your entire nation. I will not care what happens to anyone in either country. I will destroy you all.”

Ackvick stood up violently, “You wouldn’t dare! Using innocent lives as pawns in your little sick game!!”

“You wouldn’t,” said Grey confidently, “And if you would, we could prevent you. Now shall we continue like grown ups.”

“You’re being the schoolyard bully!” Snyder exclaimed.

“I am doing what I must to protect Farmina and make it strong. If we do not look for firmer ground, our nation may crumble in the earthquake,” retorted Tobias Grey.

“It sounds more like a global grab for power,” Ackvick responded cynically.

“We have beaten you twice,” said Grey, “I don’t want to see a third war.”

Ackvick shook his head, “I’d agree with a demilitarization program if you just leave us alone,”

“How can you have a military dictatorship with a boxed up military,” pressed Tobias Grey.

“It wouldn’t be a military dictatorship then, wouldn’t it,” Dasch retorted half-joking.

“True,” said Grey, “In fact I doubt you would have any dictatorship at all. May I suggest democratisation could be gradual; over five years perhaps?”

“I have an alternative, regarding military,” Wyatt stated, “What if we used our arms industry to reequip the Farminans with some badly needed next-generation technology? It could also pay off our debt for the war.”

“What if we are more than happy with our weaponry,” said Tobias Grey, “And I still expect all of Farmina’s costs to be paid by the Militia Enforced State in haren.”

“You’re going to destroy this country,” Ackvick warned, “And be breeding a group of terrorists.”

“Voters,” said Tobias Grey, “They are called voters, not terrorists.”

“Voters on a vendetta armed with guns and bombs,” Dasch added, sarcastically.

“Why in blazes do you let weapons get everywhere?” asked Grey rhetorically, “We can have a lag between military dictatorship and democracy; allow you to get tough on the trouble makers during the conversion.”

“The country is based on police and military,” Snyder replied. “We do have some gun-related crimes, but the zealous police force keeps it under control.”

“Yes, yes,” said Tobias Grey, “I’m not talking about banning the police, I’m talking about elections.”

“Have you bothered to read a Messian history book?” Foster retorted.

“I can’t think that someone rewrote your history to suit those who wanted to make a dictatorship," said Grey, “You had a war. So what, under dictatorship you are still fighting each other.”

“This is the fight time in eight decades that we’ve had a rebellion,” Ackvick replied, “You should know this. The first Arandior was a mistake, hense why my father made a public apology for the war the first time around.”

“Perhaps,” said Tobias Grey, “But surely your people wouldn't want to kill each other just because they are allowed to vote.”

Ackvick shook his head, “You don’t understand. This country isn’t ready for a democracy.”

“Why not?” asked Tobias Grey, “Are your people to stupid have their own ideas on ruling?”

“The system worked. People would be reluctant to let someone democratically elected with no strings attached to get into power. Especially with what happened eighty years ago.” Dasch replied.

“We aren’t talking about giving absolute power to one person,” said Grey, “We are talking about division of powers and possibly multiple chambers of Parliament. Federalism as well might be an idea.”

Ackvick looked towards Dasch, then back at Tobias, “What about corruption?”

“What about it?” said Tobias, “Why should a checked and balanced democracy become corrupt; as opposed to absolute power in your hands, or those of Lord Snyder.”

Ackvick looked towards the others, not looking at Snyder.

He started to murmur with then. Snyder’s face looked like he was turning red.

“We seem to have agreed on very little today,” noted Tobias, “Perhaps I can at least gain your consent to terms supporting that Trinity and Arandior are part of Farmina.”

Ackvick muttered, “I’m not consenting, but I’m not denying you either.”

“Perhaps we should resume later,” said Tobias Grey, “We have covered quite a lot today. I have business of state to attend to.”

Snyder slammed his fists on the table, “You Goddamned bastard! You will not destroy, divide, or demoralize us! This will become your undoing if you don't cease hostilities permanently!”

“We will discuss this tomorrow,” said Tobias Grey, “Perhaps you should consider a comfortable retirement Lord Snyder.”

At that, Snyder stormed out of the room, and exited the building.

“He’s got a temper. I’ll tell you that much,” Ackvick commented.

Tobias Grey sat down. The other delegates had arrived before him. The wine bottle sat on the table for anyone who wanted it. “May I start by reiterating Farmina’s position,” said Tobias Grey, pouring himself a drink, “Trinity is part of Farmina. Farmina reserves the right to decide the future of western MES. Farminan demands to be fully compensated. The Messian threat must be diminished and democracy must spread.”

Ackvick looked at Tobias straight in the eye, “We’re not your enemy. Your enemy is the one on the other side of the table.”

“Perhaps,” said Tobias Grey, “But perhaps not. It is my prerogative to ensure Farmina is in the best position it can be. It is my duty to see democracy spread.”

“You sound no better than Snyder if that’s the case,” Dasch remarked, “That’s what one of the old states in our continent used to say, ‘liberating’ nearby nations.”

“And how are the people free under you?” said Grey, “Do they choose to be ruled by you?”

“They don’t have the direct choice, but we have checked with the population,” Ackvick replied, “and the majority like the system. Probably because of all the grandmas and grandpas who remember the old days.”

“Do they know anything else?” said Grey, “The assumption that democracies naturally nuke each other is a bit of a strange one to raise a people on after all.”

“They know that normal, unconditioned and trained folk aren’t capable of being politicians,” Ackvick responded.

Rather than defend ‘normal’ people, Tobias Grey took a different tact, “Then surely the public wouldn’t elect such people,”

“And how do you expect to train the potential candidates within the time you take over the place?” Dasch inquired.

“I have suggested that we do not need to hold elections tomorrow,” said Tobias Grey; quite sure he had a far better idea what skills were needed by leaders than the Force Commanders.

Snyder looked up from the table, while he was listening. Unbeknownst to the group, he was using his injector. “How do you plan on creating a government system that doesn't go corrupt?” Snyder said calmly, “After all, just look at our history books and you'll see what happened those many years ago. To make this nation a democracy would be a disaster.”

“I didn’t realise Messians were so corrupt,” said Tobias Grey, “Now tell me why democracy would be more corrupt than a system of dictators.’

“It’s not that simple,” Snyder replied, “Before you were both, this nation was divided into no less than eight nations; Sto'Kolv, United States of Bridonia, Jakan, Scirenia, Zeresh, Norrahnia, and the island nation of Trinity. The collect of nations populated more than both our nations combined. However, things were quite different back then. The USB, possibly the most power of the nations, was lead by a corrupted democratic government, The second largest, Sto'Kolv was a communist dictatorship, Zeresh is, as it is now, a dictatoral monarchy, Norrahnia, Trinity and Sciren were democratic, and stuck in the middle of it all.”

He took a sip of his wine, “The USB’s government was based on business, and it refused to switch to alternative fuels even during an energy crisis. It ruined the poor and enriched the rich. Sto’Kolv ended up with an insane dictator who loved to kill innocents. Trinity started withholding fuel to the two big nations, Scirenia and Norrahnia created a non-aggression pact, and started creating a powerful conglomerate."

He finished his wine, “And Zeresh, was taken over by a psychotic woman, began militarizing, and dreaming of world conquest. We don’t know who fired the first shot, but in the end, 90% of our population was wiped out. This is why the Force Commander system was born.”

“Like how you went around it,” Ackvick muttered.

“Shut it, scum. You are the traitors. Heck, you even legally appointed me as a Force Commander,” Snyder stated.

Tobias Grey sighed, “Look, we can discuss a plan to bring democracy to MES or we abandon these talks.”

“Then prove that you can pull it off, while regaining the Messian’s trust of democracy, and doing it in the best way possible,” Ackvick replied, “Your government, after all, had brought a president into office by private vote, not once, but twice.”

“By a body that was elected by the entire population,” noted Tobias Grey, “It is a similar method to how some countries appoint their Prime Ministers. There is more than one road to democracy.”

“Alright, then how about this. Make a plan on how you want to do it, and we’ll review it for our approval,” Ackvick said.

“Oh no you don’t, you traitors!!” Snyder yelled, enraged.

“Well do you want a directly elected president or a prime ministerial model?” asked Tobias Grey, trying to sound accommodating.

“Prime ministerial,” Ackvick confirmed, “There is less chance that...”

Snyder stood up sharply. “This is your undoing, Tobias,” At that, he again left the room.

“He can’t stay in one place, can he?” observed Tobias Grey, “Bladder problems?”

Ackvick chuckled. “Why don’t you go arrest him or something useful?” Ackvick asked.

“He is under my protection,” noted Tobias Grey, “Prime Ministerial, very well.”

There was a sudden light cracking sound suddenly emanating from the ceiling. The crack sounded continuous. Ackvick looked towards the ceiling. There was a tiny crack running along the ceiling. Then a couple more small cracks started to form.

“It can’t be...” Ackvick murmured.

“Don’t be melodramatic and say what you’re thinking damn it,” said Tobias Grey, standing up.

“Umm...” Ackvick replied, as a small leaf of plaster came off the ceiling. Ackvick then lurched up, and grabbed Tobias by the arm. “Get everyone the hell out of here!” Ackvick yelled forcefully.

“If Snyder is behind this,” snarled Grey, pulling out his phone as he waddled along, “Tell Aricar that all units are to move to maximum alert. Hostilities may be recommencing very soon.”

Tobias Grey then hanged up and waddled a little faster.

Just as they arrived outside, Ackvick saw a yellow beam dive straight down into the palace. It was a concentrated beam; he figured it’s about the size of the room they were just in.

Tobias Grey’s phone rang, “Understood, retaliate with full force. Have Lord Snyder apprehended. I want the ark sunk.”

Ackvick looked up as he heard a jet streaking in. He looked up to see a strange contraption; a jet with four adjustable engine pods designed for VTOL, fly down and land nearby. Farminan home defense jets streaked above, engaging what appeared to be black Messian XG-99 fighters. Almost as soon as it landed, it took off again. “Shoot that aircraft down!” Ackvick yelled.

Tobias Grey didn’t think the Farmina defences needed to be told that and that they were opening fire proved as much. 12-11 jets streaked across the horizon. Air raid sirens wailed as Verica turned to chaos. Troops locked down the city, trying to put themselves between Snyder and his aircraft as the battle for the sky continued.

The gunship started to maneuver around the ground, then landing, after firing a bunch of weapons at the troops that Ackvick figured were trying to hold them at bay. It landed, then a few seconds later, flew off, blasting the eardrums from the engines. The fighters up above were still flying, but it was obvious that top skills weren’t going to last forever.

The VTOL transport then jetted forward, aiming what Ackvick assumed to be pulse-detonation engines away from the plane, propelling it forward. Defensive guns fired back at incoming missiles, while the fighters swooped downwards, firing their own countermeasures to lure them away.

Suddenly, one of the jets gets hit by a Farminan jet’s missile, and spins violently out of control, swooping away, then crashing hard into the ground. Ackvick watched a sudden bail-out just before the crash. “Well...looks like you have someone.”

A second jet exploded on the impact of a second shell, while the remaining four with transport flew away at high speed, Farminan jets and interceptors hot on their tail.

“That was a serious embarrassment,” said Tobias Grey, with an ominous feeling worse was too come.

“Very true,” Ackvick replied, “However, I don’t think they’re heading there.”

“Where then?” asked Tobias.

“The island of Bortelago,” Ackvick replied, “I just recently got privy information of a secret base. Apparently, it was created in secret for the space program. If he’s planning what I’m thinking, he’s going off planet…for good.”

“The Hurricane is under guns,” said Tobias Grey.

The President’s phone gave a peculiar ring. Solemnly, Tobias said, “Destruction will commence soon.”

Ackvick sighed. “It all comes down to this. Shall we bring this to a safe conclusion?”

Tobias Grey checked his watch then looked up into the sky, “Its either the end for us, or the end for the Hurricane. Either way, I hope you like fireworks.”

They all stared into the sky as it turned to fire.

Arn-Maciska, Covenant of Macisikan, Vårheim
"Ma'am, there's been an incident in 17-C. Verica. Feed two."
A moment's silence.
"Get me MoD."
"Ma'am."

==========

CNS Glen Allan, High Earth Orbit
Morning Midwatch. Not much to do in the ageing frigate fleet.
"Sir," the ensign's quiet voice intruded on Commodore Matthew Lyman's thoughts.
"Mmm...?"
"Sir, wave from Highnote. The Stackhouse has picked up activity over MES, and there's been an incident in the DRF," he handed Lyman the plastifilm report.
There was a moment of thought while the Commodore thought. The Russel and the Theile were already over the MES... High over the MES; just keeping watch from the extreme limits of watchable range, but they were there... he tapped the report thoughtfully.
"Signal, tell the flotilla to follow course. Helm, put us over the MES."
"Sir."
"And signal, tightbeam to the Russel and Thiele as soon as we're in range."
"Yessir."

==========

The ship shuddered as its brutal Impact Drive engines surged into life. Around them four other bridges trembled as their human controllers relayed the instructions.
There were five of them. They were 180 metres long. Sporting poor, primitive, shields, barely good enough to deflect debris, certain to fall after a couple of missile hits. But their armour was thick.
There were five, and they were a dull grey. Long and thin, with a segmented appearance. Running lights active; they could be seen.
Macisikani Imperial Military Impact Drive Frigates.
There were five of them, and they were moving smoothly into orbit over the Milita-Enforced State.

They weren't hiding their presence; for those that could hear them, the transponders were active, and one was signalling flag officer aboard.

At the same time the CNS Furman, a heavier variant of the gunboats, was moving into position over the DRF.

==========

[encrypted telegram to Macisikani Embassy, Verica from the MEA]
CO'NOR: RTN SITREP + STATREP ALL A-PERS N17 STOP RTN STATREP ALL I-PERS N17-VERICA STOP MOST URGENT STOP ACK - ALDRESET

Supper time. The White Palace looked very unwell in the distance. Verica had been hammered by the Hurricane and other Messian space weapons. Smoke rose lazily from the city; fires were ablaze all over the city, in even in parts that hadn’t been directly attacked. Alarm bells continued to ring, sounding furious to the President’s ear, although the President’s ears were ringing regardless of the alarms. A long bandage ran along his forehead, covering the deep cut caused by an air born part of the White Palace; that might leave a scar. It could have been worse; but it certainly could have been a whole lot better.

A cheap inn was barely suitable for a President; but it was discrete. A pair of soldiers entered Tobias Grey’s temporary dinning room. Putting down his knife and fork, the President commented, “Well look what the cat dragged in.”

“I ain’t talking to you, you fucked up Nazi!” Director Dylan Aguilar yelled. He was pretty banged up, but at the velocity the plane came down, it was to be expected. That and Tobias wasn’t joking around anymore.

Tobias Grey returned to his sparse meal for a moment, then turned his attention back to Aguilar, “You will be tried for tyranny, Director. After you are found guilty, you will be publicly hanged by the neck.”

“You may ring me by the neck in the gallows, scum,” Nicolas yelled, “But you will not destroy what we have accomplished! You have no idea of what a perfect world is!”

“Dinner is very important,” said Tobias Grey with utter conviction and utter calm, “And I won’t have it ruined by the likes of you. Take him away.”

“I will have you dead!” yelled the Director as he was dragged away.

“Join the queue,” the President muttered, returning to his dinner.

“The chicken is just right, would you agree?” Grey asked Ackvick as calm as he could be after practically sentencing a man to death.

“It is wonderful, much better than rations,” Ackvick replied politely.

Tobias Grey looked out the window at the devastation that the Hurricane had reaped, “My personal chef can make good things with only a few ingredients. I’m glad he wasn’t conscripted, and I’m certainly glad he wasn’t killed.”

“I’m sorry about this,” responded Ackvick calmly, “I am sorry about everything. Perhaps you were right to begin with.”

Tobias Grey finished off the last of his chicken, “What is done is done; there is of course grief for the dead, but one should not grieve for the history they did not write. Central Verica is a melted ruin and this cannot be undone; I thank God that the attack happened after work hours. So much of the city has been damaged from flying rubble and secondary fire, we simply must move forward. The White Palace…”

The White Palace was a structure that no expense had been spared to build. Justinian had been sure to lavish himself with marble and fine art. There was no other building in Farmina like it. There were few other buildings like it in the world. Now it was a pile of rubble in North Verica. The far less lavish Parliament building had gone up in flames (thankfully it was free of Parliamentarians) along with the neighbouring Republic Hotel; both melting into slag when Central Verica turned into an inferno under the Hurricane’s glare. So much government infrastructure had been destroyed in Central Verica and secondary attacks. Commercial infrastructure was also in tatters; up in flames in Central Verica. Tobias Grey’s beloved Casino Verica, in fact the entire casino strip, was located in Central Verica…the President would have to take his money somewhere else. Even the beautiful River Verica was affected; its path now partially blocked by melted rubble. Large amounts of water had boiled off; but how long before the blockage caused the River to burst its banks?

James Ackvick simply looked down and ate. Tobias Grey took a more positive vein, “With Messian space power broken by the combination of Farminan and Macisikani firepower; Farminan weapons satellites are now destroying every last Messian asset in space, from space stations to weather satellites. Now that we are unchallenged in space, like we are on the water, we are going to make the most of it.”

Ackvick didn’t approve of destroying the Messian weather satellites; but he didn’t want to openly disapprove of Farminan actions after the…incident. When peace came, the Militia Enforced State would have to replace a lot of satellites. That assumed the war would end.

“I understand,” said Ackvick sympathetically, cleaning up the chicken and the few vegetables, “I realise that Snyder’s last ditch attempt to hurt you did just that. It was a stab in the heart, I do understand.”

The President paused to look at his watch before continuing, “If you’ll excuse my I have another statement to make. You may watch if you like.”

Tobias Grey stood up and walked out of what he had transformed into his own temporary dinning room, into what was now a studio. A massive Farminan flag had been draped across the back wall. A simple lectern holding Tobias Grey’s speech, with a single government camera recording. The message would not be broadcast instantly; but from a distant location, so the desperate Snyder couldn’t trace his location.

Ackvick walked into the room and stood behind the recording equipment. Tobias Grey read through the speech twice, first to approve it, the second time to help it flow. The third time he spoke aloud, “Ladies and gentlemen. Tonight will be one of the bloodiest nights in Farminan history. There will be time to grieve later, in trying to times we must not halt but progress. I am not here to update the situation in Verica, or pass addition condolences. This message is for those who still wave the banner of MISTER Snyder.”

“Mister” could not have been said with more contempt. Tobias Grey spoke in a somber, but firm tone, “By 11 o’clock Verica time, that is within 45 minutes, I require the unconditional surrender of all remaining forces that have been under Directorate command and the complete dissolution of the Directorate. All Directorate forces and personal will disarm and hand themselves over to Farminan forces, including those on Borteloga. All cities, towns and bases under Directorate control are to bring down the flag of their failed regime, run up the Farminan flag and place themselves under Farminan control. Farminan forces have already begun preliminary strikes. As of 11 o’clock Verica time, I will authorise the Farminan military to hit holdouts on Dyria and Borteloga with the full fury of the previously restrained Farminan war machine.”

The harsh warning was enough; all of the holdouts held by Snyder's forces across the continent, surrendered unconditionally. NORAD, Francisco-Angelas, New Darius...even the three big bases in the northeast, the Arctic Base, Training Academy, and the Launch Base, all surrendered...everywhere, but the southwest. If only, it made them more ignorant.

Snyder's most loyal men, numbering a thousand men, armed with what was left of Snyder's impresive technology, fell back to hold only four areas; Dylaria City, the Dylarian Shipyards, Amelia, and the 'hidden' headquarters, though it was obvious that now it was widely exposed.

The troops had deployed themselves in chokepoints that led into the area, aiming the entire force along the lines between the coast, northwest of Dylaria City, and the border of the 'Zeresh' empire. Snyder knew that the Zereshians feared the Messians; ever since the great war, the Messians despised the Zereshians, and the fact that they couldn't retake the nation. Snyder was counting on the fact that the Zereshians had an entire century to build up, and how they would react to anyone invading their 'rightful land of the heir'. At least, that was the plan.

To cover the forest routes, specialised carpet bombers ahead of the Farminan positions dropped specialised time-delayed land mines, designed to design on contact, but also auto-detonate after two months time, to prevent nasty 'problems' down the road. Defensive positions were fully equipped and prepareed for battle. The automated batteries, ranging from shore artillery to anti-infantry and anti-tank batteries fully deployed, no longer using the element of suprise, but rather, the ability to attack indescriminately as an alternative tactic. Anti-air batteries were activated, and one report stated a perfectly good missile was inadvertantly fired by a computer controlled battery by a flying hawk.

Arriving via his lightning fast transport, when he got out, he noticed that two of his planes were gone.

"Oh, for the love of..." Snyder murmored. His directorate was becoming an endangered species. "Alright, emergency meeting. Have you seen Timothy?"

Tia took off her fighter helmet. "Yes, apparently he has already arrived here."

Snyder sighed. "Good, one thing went right today. Alright, we don't have much time, let's move!"

Supreme Commander Varius Aricar watched the clock…any second now the first wave would commence.

A distant rumble, a very distant rubble, could have only been Farminan artillery opening up on Dylaria city. A massive fifty thousand artillery pieces (more were being held in reserves) would leave the city a pile of rubble, creating a bigger mess than Verica. Aricar could not recall such a concentrated bombardment in recent times. “Completely deserved,” thought Aricar.

Reports appeared on his screen nearly immediately, including projections for casualties of and enemy artillery. The reports of casualties grew quickly to begin with, then slowly; while the projections for enemy artillery were original high but then dropped quickly soon to become nothing. There was a clear correlation between the two.

Some of the shells would be falling on the rear of the city. The bombardment would see troops rushing forward creating chaos. Artillery landing on them would make the chaos tenfold.

Further north, near Snyder’s headquarters a lighter barrage would be commencing as Field Marshal Salamander geared up for a massive drive south, through the heart of the pocket, Farmina’s new schwerpunkt.

Supreme Commander Aricar turned the key in the command box, before typing in his code. The target had already confirmed. The Kettle would move along the stretch of line near Snyder’s command center, starting in the west, moving swiftly north, then east and finally south, delivering an intense blast of concentrated radiation to the enemies of freedom. His trusted staff would ensure the weapon stayed on its deadly mission should the enemy start moving.

Supreme Commander Aricar left his office and walked out to the bow of the ship, first looking out north to Amelia, as decoy aircraft flew to “bomb” enemy air defences. Then he turned the sun rising in the west. That radioactive sun had been the Dylrian Shipyard...a single submarine with a single torpedo had just ruined Snyder’s new fleet in its entirety and a chunk of MES with it.

Salamander checked his watch, as he paced back and forth in his tent, “Nearly time to move forward.”

“Yes, sir,” said Colonel Richter, “That is if there is anyone left alive to move foward against. You have seen the images of the bomb haven’t….”

One of the battle technicians quickly burst into the command tent, with some papers of tactical printouts, “Sir, we may have a problem...!”

“What is it?” demanded Salamander.

“Umm...” the soldier said, flipping clumsily through the papers, looking for something. “Ah,” he said, pulling out a few printouts of overhead views. “Intel has reported buildup of military forces along the entire Zereshian border.”

“Mobilisation will still take time,” said Salamander, “Time Snyder doesn’t have. Send this to Aricar, he'll pass it onto Tobias Grey. His diplomats will then open dialogue with Zeresh and find out what is happening."

“Immediately sir,” said the technical officer, saluting then leaving the room.

The mass surrenders saw Messian airpower significantly weaker than that of Farmina for the first time in the war. 12-11s and Farminan Swarmers flying overhead with impunity proved as much.

Field Marshal Salamander was in charge of the schwerpunkt. General Werner and Karn were to launch a series of small attacks on the Messian line north of Snyder’s headquarters; while General Samuels and General Drake were to take even larger armies to strike east and west of the base respectively. Everything human on the stretch of line had ceased to be; boiled alive by radiation weaponary. Machine was a different matter.

“The pocket will be under attack from three directions,” noted Richter, “The line is in ruins and our artillery can deal with machines from a safe range. Snyder’s base itself will be surrounded and the remaining Messian forces will be cut in half.”

“Snyder’s base itself will be under attack,” corrected Salamander, “As the offensive moves forward, the paratroopers will go in, supported by a unique method of breaking down the door.”

Salamander’s artillery fire intensified; both men checked their watches. The advance was commencing.

Tobias Grey liked confrontational diplomacy. It was like poker, Tobias Grey's game of choice. Phillip Sullivan, Chancellor for Foreign Affairs, was too much of a wet blanket, meaning Tobias Grey was ever more active in the role. That Phillip Sullivan couldn’t be found in the ruins of Verica only made things more difficult.

“We have HER on the line,” said Ms Reilly.

“Good,” said Tobias Grey, picking up the phone, “Your majesty.”

“Hello,” the Queen said fiercely.

“We have reports that your forces are about to role into the MES,” said Tobias Grey, “Let me be blunt; what are your intentions?”

“Simple,” the woman said, matter of fact, “I’m taking this continent back, to my rightful rule. And anyone who steps in my way shall be punished severely. I will give you the courtesy of a three day pullout. Afterwards, consider yourself to be in violation of my lands.”

The Queen then hung up.

“Get her back,” snarled Grey, “Tell her I have an offer for her.”

The phone connected to her automatically. “I was expecting you to call me back,” she mused.

“We will fight to keep you from dominating this continent,” said Tobias Grey, “But I will turn a blind eye if you annex the territory you lost before the Great War, in fact I will actively support it in further peace talks.”

“You dare try to fight us?” the Queen bellowed, “We have had a century to study Messian tactics, Messian technology, and Messian opponents in battle. Our military economy is booming, we have millions of troops, and we're well equipped. Are you sure you are willing to risk the lives of your own men for your selfish whims? After all, you got what you came for; you broke the Messians’ backs, and they won’t hurt you ever again!”

Tobias Grey was stubborn, he wouldn’t fold that easily, “You won't be fighting just the Messians. You will be fighting Farminans as well. Both Farmina and MES number you individually; together we will outnumber you horrifically.”

“The Messian military is broken,” the Queen replied, “Their best tanks and aircraft were all destroyed in your brilliant attacks against them. Their navy is completely sunk or captured. They have nothing but men with sticks.”

“You are right,” admitted Grey as first mournfully, then his tone took an evil twist, “Farmina does have all that equipment.”

“I’ll compromise,” the Queen offered, “Keep the lands you own. We take the rest. Let them die peacefully.”

“That is not what is on offer,” observed Tobias Grey, “You may annex the territory stolen from you in the so called Great War.”

The Queen’s voice deepened, “The pain they’ve done to us! They’ve suppressed us for a century! It is time for revenge! You have three days, I suggest you use them well,” the Queen said.

Tobias Grey continued to press the Queen, “Can you really hold onto that many people? Many of them are trained. Arms could easily find a way into their hands. That would be uncomfortable.”

She laughed, the way in which she did made Tobias nervous, “Who said that there would be a lot of Messians to handle?”

“If you push the people hard, they will push back,” warned Grey, “I hope that the territory historically loyal to your nation is acceptable.”

She sighed into the phone, “You don;t get it, do you? I;m charging them for their crimes, and punishing them using their own judicial system against them, for a twist of ironic judgment.”

“You will only incur punishment on yourself if you try and go through me,” said Tobias Grey, “Look at the violent blows struck against Lord Snyder if you want to see your future on a course of aggression. I am offering you a stretch of land for nothing but assurances that you will allow your land to prosper.”

There was silence on the phone. After a wait, ruffling could be heard. “Alright, I’ll submit the annexing we have in mind. However, we will take Snyder's regime, and Dylaria, no discussion.”

“You can’t have Snyder,” said Tobias Grey, “And you can't have Dylaria. The return to the old borders is what is on offer.”

Tobias hears the fax machine go off, printing off a modified map of the MES. It showed a scribbled line across it, which also marked the Farminan fronts.

“This is not the old border,” observed Tobias Grey, “Not even close.”

He paused, it was one of those times he would give a concession, “The old border plus Amelia. And I won't make any objections to what you do out in the unclaimed east.”

“It’s less than half,” the Queen reminded, about her offer. “Take it or leave it, and the souls in your army, to my whim. Surely, you don't want to drag your men into yet another war, especially against a fresh army with a well tuned navy, I should add.”

“I leave it,” said Tobias Grey, “My troops are more experienced and more numerous.”

“Very well,” the Queen said, “You have three days. Make them count. ”

Just then, media networks started to broadcast the Queen, but instead of showing her face, it showed a new, pink-red flag with two swords:

Tobias Grey looked as Ms Reilly, “Any response from Lord Snyder. He might finally throw in the towel after this.”

“Afraid not,” the Ms Reilly replied, “There has been no communication out of that area since the final phase.”

“Then we must finish off Snyder tonight,” said Tobias Grey, “I will go to MES tomorrow and make peace with Ackvick the day after that.”

High above, Commodore Lyman's flotilla had gone black. No wide-range signals, no transponders, minimal heat dispersal. The only real way to tell that they were there was using the gold ol' Mark I Eyeball.

Though soon Farmina's weapons satellites would have noted that there were less MES targets then their files indicated, and strange vapour trails. A human, would realise that the vapour trails were being left behind by rockets, and were drawing neat lines between the frigates and expanding clouds of debris that used to be Messian satellites. It would take a bit of maths, but a human would also infer that the Commodore's flotilla was a little larger than the five ships that were originally deployed.

No communications had been heard from the Covenant by the DRF, the MES or the Queen since the brief flurry of messages between the MEA and their battered Embassy.

Unless one counted the javelin rocket salvos as communication.

Timothy wore a pair of jeans and a worn blue shirt. His hair had changed his hair yet again, parted to the left. He zipped up the suitcase he had brought with him and picked it up. He would never have made it to Borteloga on time anyway. Now Borteloga had thrown its hands in the air and declared itself a servant of Farmina. The Hurricane was gone; blasted into pieces. Despite having escaped from the pocket south of Angelas-Francisco, places to run were getting short. Timothy picked up his case and proceeded to the door. There was no turning back; but there was no future for him here.

As Timothy hit the button to open the door, someone tapped him on the shoulder, “Leaving without saying goodbye?”

“I didn’t realise you were there,” said Timothy.

“I just noticed you leaving,” Snyder replied.

“I have no future here,” said Timothy, “If I find a cave to hide in for a few days, I might still have one.”

Snyder shook his head in sadness, “I’m sorry.”

“One last time?” asked Timothy, his tone somber.

“No, you don’t have enough time,” Snyder said. He then gently pulled Timothy’s arm toward him, then gave Timothy a kiss.

Timothy reciprocated, then said softly, “Goodbye Jason.”

Snyder pointed towards an obviously rarely used door near the exit he was about to leave. “That way is to the civilian parking garage. In the end there’s a rusty old car. You can pass as a civilian if you make it to a town. Head towards the Messians...I’m sure that they'll treat you better than the Farminans.”

“Thank you,” said Timothy, exiting through the suggested door.

He wondered if his paths would cross with Tia Norris. Coincidentally, just as he was thinking that, he saw her, plain-clothed, standing by the car that Snyder described. It was as if it was arranged.

“You need a ride?” asked Timothy, smiling.

“Up to you,” she replied, “I can drive, and probably know the roads better around here than you do.”

“You drive, but I better do the talking,” said Timothy, changing his accent, to highlight the fact he was a mimic by trade.

She nodded as she opened the door to her side, got into the ten year old car. She turned the ignition as Timothy got in. “Ready to go?” she asked.

Timothy threw is case his back, along with his backpack, “Ready.”

She pressed the accelerator gently, driving the car out of the parking garage. Soon, she reached the top, where she drove out of a door, which appeared to be a part of the single large building that populated the place.

As they drove across the false grass (it was modified to take vehicular and aircraft traffic, Timothy looked around the entire area. It was huge; and the force defending it was massive. Anti-air guns, artillery, mobile anti-air, and the remnants of what was left of Snyder’s super-heavy (if super-thin) force was waiting for the inevitable. Troops took positions towards the Farminans, and the tanks would probably be quite effective, as they don’t need to rely on speed. As they approached the forest, Timothy noticed a tiny road; a single lane dirt road that headed northeast.

“How far till we get beyond enemy lines?” asked Timothy.

“I have no idea,” she replied, “I suppose we’ll see it when we get there. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if we run headlong into them.”

Timothy had forged papers, he wasn’t sure if Tia did.

Tia looked towards him, “Wouldn’t you think it would be too prepared if we had our papers on us?”

“I don’t know about you,” said Timothy, putting on a distinctive Scirenian accent, “But I fled the Farminans as they approached Sciren. I needed my papers to get on the evac choppers so I could prove I wasn’t a Farminan spy. Dylaria didn't turn out to be much safer.”

“True enough,” she replied, as they could feel and hear artillery falling behind them. Not close, but they knew where they were hitting. “Long live the directorate,” she said, withdrawn.

Timothy didn’t want to dwell on the past, “Do you plan to leave the country? I have currency, solid currency, not credits. If you stay, you might be recognised.”

Tia nodded, “Yes, but not immediately. I actually hope to just blend in, if it's at all possible. I really...I...really must admit, I really started losing faith in Snyder and his ways in the end...I’m glad it’s ending. He was dangerous.”

“We are of one mind on that matter,” said Timothy, “Tobias Grey is now striking such violent blows that if Snyder survives another twenty four hours, there will be nothing left of the Militia Enforced State.”

As Tia nodded, Timothy wondered about MES after the war. It would be impoverished, more deeply impoverished. So much rebuilding would need to be done, and there would be so little wealth to do it with. Perhaps democracy would provide the answer; perhaps it would provide Timothy with a future.

Deep in the twisted labyrinth of the Red Bailey, the pumping powerhouse of the Imperial Civil Service, wheels clicked, turned, and spat out a result. Finally, something was actually heard from the Covenant, some sort of communication that wasn't ordinance. A message was sent out to all and sundry.
And it wasn't friendly.

=======================
OPEN CABLE
From: Ministry of External Affairs
Attn: Combined Guild of Bounty Hunters, international press

The following individual has been deemed hazardous. A bounty of ∂1,000,000 is offered for the delivery of this individual to Covenant authorities. Termination is authorised; a bonus of 10% applies for the delivery of the subject alive and undamaged.
NAME: James Snyder, Lord Director of the Militia-Enforced State, MES
(a brief bio profile is attached, including recent photos)

The following individual has been deemed hazardous. A bounty of ∂750,000 is offered for the delivery of the following individual, alive, to Covenant Authorities:
NAME: Timothy Reis, Executive Director, MES
(a very, very, basic bio profile is attached, including a fairly recent photo, and a caution that the individual has been known to change appearance)
Penalties will be applied should the unit be damaged.

The following individuals have been deemed hazardous. A bounty of ∂500,000 is offered for their delivery to Covenant Authorities. Termination is required.
(a list of the other Messian Force Commanders loyal to Snyder is attached. It's not quite up to date, as it includes Reagan Hamilton as "Alive")

Safe passage is granted to all individuals seeking to collect bounties, unless they have been so named herein or in other such notices. Use of force is authorised against individuals who obstruct collection. Penalties apply for violation of Covenant laws. Penalties apply for delivery of damaged goods. Attempted fraud will result in immediate termination. The Covenant accepts no responsibility for any damages incurred, accidental or otherwise, by any party in the course of the acquisition of the individuals named herein. Other terms and conditions apply.

Snyder’s headquarters sat quietly on the hilltop, among the trees, looking down on the lightly forested lands around it and the cities in the distance. From every direction enemy troops approached and in the south, the mushroom cloud hung in the air as a reminder of Farmina’s dedication to victory. Artillery had not paid much attention to Snyder’s headquarters relative to the front line, though numerous craters making it appear Snyder had decided to build his base on the moon. Within half a minute, the base burst into flames as scores of precision missiles found their targets, the howling of the rockets sounding several seconds after the explosions.

Unseen, the Kettle was working its magic, a weaker burst of its radiation targeted from space on to the headquarters, enough to create immense illness but only a few deaths. The Kettle stopped suddenly for a few seconds. The mighty base looked like a flaming scrap yard as hundreds of jets made a low pass over the ruins of the base, delivering surface and bunker buster bombs. The surface weapons cleaned up what the missiles had missed, as the handful of bunker busters tore open holes in the ground creating chaos below. It only took seconds for the jets to pass by; and the Kettle returned to delivering its horror as Farminan attack helicopters rapidly approached. Despite the damage Messian counter fire was rampant, but desperate; more hit random forested areas than the actual forces, the Farminan jets took minimal casualties.

The Kettle stopped as the helicopters entered range; it had done its job, and was quickly reprogrammed to start slaughtering Messians somewhere the line was holding, or at least not collapsing badly. The thousands of attack helicopters didn’t take long to open up their side doors. The helicopters continued what the jets and medium-range missiles had started, raking the ground with machine gun fire and churning up the earth like a giant garden hoe using their HellFire missiles, as paratroopers began jumping for the base below. The devastation above ground would leave the ignorant thinking that no one could be left alive. The Farminans knew that a lot of Messians, however ill, were still alive underground.

The first paratroopers to hit the ground quickly began securing the area, disarming any surviving, if profusely ill, Messians on the surface that were still alive. The sound of battles raging north, south and west seemed to be getting closer rapidly, but Farmina was already standing on the prize, literally.

Within minutes of landing, the first paratrooper squads led by Colonel Richter himself, moved to secure the network of bunkers that had already sustained minor structural damage, in which it was hoped Snyder would be found.

Because of the deafening noise, they neglected to hear the six four-engine turboprop aircraft above, with additional paratroopers coming down. However, these paratroopers were obviously not Farminan.

Major General Alexander Putsch of the 1st Paratrooper Division reacted to the situation as soon as he was informed of it, “This ground is under Farminan occupation. Remove yourselves immediately.”

The new arrivals were Zereshian soldiers; marching up, aimed their guns, and immediately opened fire on the Farminans, targeting high ranking officers.

The Farminan troops on the surface dropped to the ground and returned fire. Farminan helicopters that had finished unloading troops quickly returned to the sky so they could aid the battle while a swarm of 12-11s made another pass over the base, intent on clearing away other Zereshian aircraft.

The Zereshians leaving behind a small screening force raced towards the entrance to Snyder’s base, exposing themselves to the fury of machinegun fire from above

Then, a single twin-turbojet aircraft flew above, and more paratroopers came out. However, in this case, it was obvious that the Force Commanders decided to send in troops of their own. The Messians went straight for the Zereshians and the entrance to Snyder’s headquarters, intent to secure the regime’s leaders for themselves.

“Surrender,” yelled Alexander Putsch, “We have you outnumbered and outgunned.”

His words were underlined, by a helicopter gunship releasing a stream of HellFire rockets at the Zereshian screening force. The first Zereshians were reaching the entrance to Snyder’s headquarters and were preparing to pour in behind the small number of Farminans that had already gone in.

Amy Ackvick became visible as she led her small force of Messians towards the entrance and the bulk of the Zereshians; armed and ready to fight. She wanted Snyder worse than anyone.

Major General Putsch acted decisively and aggressively. Killing Amy Ackvick would be a disaster, but neither she nor the Zereshians could be allowed to capture Snyder. A 12-11 made a low sweep delivering a series of high explosive missiles into the entrance of Snyder’s underground lair, before pulling up rapidly.

The briefly flashed with flame then collapsed as the Zereshian troops were thrown away like by bloody rag dolls by the force of the blasts, or simply crushed by the collapse. The Messians took their chance and opened fire on the shocked Zereshian survivors, slaughtering them with neither fear nor favour.

Major General Putsch decided now that the objective had been deprived from the enemy, it was time to ask nicely again, “Surrender or die in vain.”

“They aren’t in a state to surrender,” said Amy Ackvick, as she inspected the dead and wounded Zereshians, while secretly searching out a second entrance.

“I meant you,” said the general firmly, “Weapons down or we shoot.”

“Shoot at us and you’re declaring war!” Amy replied with the same tenacity she would have used against Snyder’s forces.

“Cold comfort for your husband when we send him your body,” sneered Major General Putsch, stalling, as Farminan snipers prepared their shots from the helicopters hovering above.

“A war will hurt you,” said Amy Ackvick, frantically searching for a second entrance, “Farmina is holding the territory Zeresh desires most; how much can Farmina take?”

“That is true,” said the Major General, “But it would ruin MES.”

“Let us have Snyder,” insisted Amy, “We can avoid all of this.”

“All shots prepared,” General Putsch heard in his earpiece, “Awaiting the order.”

“If you do not disarm and place yourselves in our custody,” said the Major General, with the snipers listening in, “I will use force. Ten...”

“General...” began Amy Ackvick

“Eight,” the General interrupted, “Tobias Grey will not be pleased if you ruin the chances for peace Ms Ackvick. Five...”

“You missed seven!” Ackvick yelled.

“They passed while I was talking,” said the General, “Three…two.”

She glanced around, then raised her hands, holding her rifle in the air with them.

“Very wise,” said the Putsch, before yelling orders, “Secure the prisoners. And clear out our rubble, our men are down there.”

In the dark of Snyder’s underground lair, the Farminan troops moved forward unabated by the situation above ground. The lights flickered as the blasted power infrastructure faltered under the strain. Moving room to room, the Messians were disarmed and bound with out resistance. And what a horrid state the Messians were in...

The floors of Snyder’s inner sanctum were lined with his finest and closest; sobbing, sweating, vomiting, screaming and dying. The smell was horrific in such a confined space and the air was remarkably warm. Farminan soldiers held their noses to keep the smell out. Many of the Messians were lying in their own vomit or their own excrement, possibly both. The Messians could barely move many still puking and all of them sweating profusely. It was obvious that several of the Messians had died choking on their own vomit. The Kettle’s worst victims lay dead in their own blood, having sweated immense quantities of blood. The Farminans gave their prisoners a little water to make up what they had lost and a little pity; but not much. Snyder was still out there.

Colonel Richter led the charge into the heart of Snyder’s complex, finding ever more of the vomiting, copiously sweating Messian lying, crawling, puking sometimes even spasming on the floor.

The command center fell like every other room, without a fight. Without losing a man (excluding all those dying on the surface) Farmina controlled the very heart of the Snyder Directorate. “We have head,” said Colonel Richter, “Now the badly wounded body can only spasm and die.”

“We still need Snyder,” observed Captain Wagner, looking from panel to panel, “We must find him quickly, before he can recover from the Kettle’s effects.”

‘Effects’ was a very polite word covering the foul smelling, suffering Messians on the command center floor. That didn’t mean Wagner was wrong and after consulting the commander center equipment, Colonel Richter had a good idea where to find Snyder

Colonel Richter personally led a squad to Snyder’s office. After a small problem involving the reading the map the wrong way round, they eventually arrived at it. Colonel Richter carefully pressed open the door.

The door opened to reveal an empty room, but a grand office chair turned away from the door.

The Farminans drew their pistols cautiously and approached the swivel chair from the flanks. They could hear a man weeping as they came closer. The soldiers sidestepped to bring the fallen lord within their sight.

Snyder just kept weeping, however, seemingly unaware of the Farminans presence, though it could be almost guaranteed that that wouldn’t be the case.

“Restrain him,” said Colonel Richter, looking at the broken man, nearly drowning in warm sweat, the front of his damp uniform crusted with Snyder’s last meal.

The Farminan soldiers began tying Snyder up in plastic thread.

“I’m so sorry...” he moaned.

“Come along Mister Snyder,” said Colonel Richter, “We have to get you out of here to the safety of Farmina.”

“I’m so sorry,” Snyder kept repeating.

Colonel Richter would rather have interrogated Snyder after the dictator had been bathed. One question did not wait, “What are you sorry about?”

“I have become what I was trying to prevent,” whimpered Snyder.

Colonel Richter looked away from the broken man, Snyder’s realization was cold comfort those incinerated in Verica.

A university auditorium was not where President Tobias Grey usually spent his time, especially when the killing blows were being played against an enemy. Occasionally he would give a lecture on politics and governance, or attend a convention held at a university. That he was in Sciren suggested this was no ordinary speech. His last trip to Messian soil had laid the groundwork for bringing Trinity into Farmina. Would the locals expect something similar for this visit?

The crowd had been carefully searched. Farminan troops strode the aisles looking for trouble. Spies for the Farminan government and the collaborators that called themselves the “Authority for Greater Sciren” were amongst the crowd, looking for troublemakers. The last week had seen the Farminan military and its collaborators launching a quick and silent purge of Sciren and the surrounding areas. Weapons and munitions were seized, troublemakers executed and powerful figures from the old guard vanished. Patrols had been tripled and a lockdown was in effect, citing ‘potential terrorist incidents,’ giving Farmina and the Authority for Greater Sciren a free hand.

Now the lockdown had ended, the purge complete, although the Farminan military and local authorities remained on high alert, all of the Greater Sciren area under a close eye. Tobias Grey walked up to the lectern as the lights concentrated on him. The locals were polite enough to clap, something he appreciated. The crowd was sympathetic to Tobias and Farmina after what happened to Verica, perhaps even a little guilty about their system of government, their leader being responsible. Sciren had even more reason to understand the pain, as Sciren had seen its heart collapse into rubble as the city became a battlefield; they had seen that kind of destruction happen to their own city and knew Verica was so much worse. Tobias Grey waited for the clapping to patter out before beginning, “Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished guests, Farminan representatives, members of the media, the Authority for Greater Sciren; greetings. May I thank you all for your presence.”

Tobias Grey surveyed the room, looking out at the sea of faces. Many of these people were collaborators; people who realised their future lay with the new order. “War is a dirty, disgusting thing,” said Tobias Grey, “Yet we still fight them and I ask why? There are some things great enough to justify the death and the destruction. Freedom from the grip of tyrants like Snyder is worth fighting for.”

That caught the crowd’s attention. They heard a glimmer of truth in those words. Tobias Grey continued to build on his early gains, “War has visited Sciren and left a mighty scar.”

There was a sea of glum nods at the thought of the destruction that had befallen Sciren, especially the obliteration of the city centre, as the city became the main battlefield of the war. “I have consulted my Parliament,” continued Tobias Grey, “And they have opened the coffers, providing me with finance to restore Sciren to, no beyond, its former glory. Sciren will be the shining emerald on this continent, the most beautiful of its cities.”

The expense made Tobias Grey wince on the inside as projectors put up images of possible reconstructions of Sciren. He planned to factor the reconstruction costs into reparations the Messians would pay. That would make the expense more manageable. Not to mention it would ensure there was plenty of work for the people of Sciren; and any jobs the people of Sciren couldn’t fill, the Farminans would.

Talk of such a great project, creating a diamond out of Sciren excited the audience. The Messians were not rich people and hence did not have the fine cities like Verica (or at least what Verica had been like). Now Tobias Grey was promising to finance something truly great, unheard of even on the Dyrian continent. The President of the Republic had their attention.

“This great project came about from discussions between myself, the Parliament and the Authority for Greater Sciren,” continued Tobias Grey giving a friendly smile, “Out of these discussions came a realization that Sciren needed not only undo the effects of war, but truly move forward, enter a new age of prosperity.”

Tobias Grey sensed caution in the air about ‘moving forward’, but knew so far he had built firm ground from which to move forward, “The Parliament has approved a plan that will officially terminate the Authority for Greater Sciren.”

Now a pair of hecklers burst in; Farminan spies posing as hecklers actually. “We want local rulers!” said one, “Down with distant tyrants!”

“No to annexation!” yelled the other, “No to military rule!”

Tobias Grey put up his hands, gesturing for silence. His agent provocateurs did not fall silent immediately (that would have given the game away) but they did not take long.

Tobias Grey now used the heckling to his advantage, “My dear guests, I do not plan to annex Sciren as a part of Farmina. I do not plan to leave this territory at the whim of the Farminan army or any other tyrant, like Snyder or the Queen of Zeresh. The Parliament has accepted a proposal to transform the Authority for Greater Sciren into a new body.”

Now curiosity ran through the crowd. Tobias Grey continued to smile; a friendly smile from someone vaguely resembling Santa is rarely intimidating, “The Democratic Republic of Farmina hereby recognizes the independence and sovereignty of the Republic of Scirenia. The Authority of Greater Sciren will take up the role of Acting Government of Scirenia until elections can be held.”

That received a mixed reaction. Tobias Grey allowed his audience time to take in the announcement. Independence after eighty years under the Messian heel. Few remembered independence. Some saw a chance for a new hope; not just a city that was to be made a diamond, but an entire new nation. Others were glad their nation was not simply annexed like Trinity or placed under permanent occupation. Some still felt patriotism towards the MES; although Snyder’s reign had weakened their loyalty. In total, the reaction amounted to a soft, polite applause; cautious but optimistic.

“For eighty years the Republic of Scirenia has been held down the Militia Enforced State,” said Tobias Grey, his tone more serious but still soft, “Your democratic nation was abolished in a war started by the tyrants in other nations. The iron hand of the MES has tied you to the nations that sought the destruction of peace, of your way of life and of your freedom, the very nations that turned this continent into a wasteland. That was your reward for being free and innocent under the Militia Enforced State! A love of freedom was treated as insurrection; the violence of the regime made you hate and fear freedom, it made you blame freedom for the Great War. Your freedom was not at fault; that is was is the foul lie on which the Militia Enforced State is built.”

“Farmina has broken you free. Check your history books, ponder the facts and see the truth in my words. Your nation was caught in the middle and punished for it. Your nation was forced to endure war, the Snyder regime and repression under martial law because of its innocence. I bring you not just your freedom; but after eighty years I bring you justice.”

Tobias Grey then summoned the ancient motto of the Republic of Scirenia, a cheery grin over his face, “Immortal our Republic. Scirenia is forever.”

The Authority for Greater Sciren, the acting government, repeated in distinctively Scirenian accents, “Immortal our Republic. Scirenia is forever.”

A massive banner dropped down behind Tobias Grey and the collaborators revealing a massive version of the long forgotten flag of the Republic of Scirenia. Projectors renewed their display of the conceptualizations of a beautiful new Sciren that would sit at the heart of Scirenia. The Authority for Greater Sciren put their hands across their chest in a posture of respect, as tears (fake or otherwise) rolled down their cheeks; listening intently as the speakers boomed a forgotten tune, the national anthem of Scirenia.

***SIS Media Monitoring Log***
NI: 017
CH: OGC
Press Wave 12360370-45
Possible blue words detected. They are war, Snyder, Parliament, Queen, elections
Blue flag issued.

***********

Press Release

His Serene Majesty's Government does hereby recognise the independence and sovereignty of the Republic of Scirenia. The new nation is cautioned to avoid the mistakes of the Militia Enforced State; then their time shall be long and prosperous.

- MEA

********
Short and terse; rather neatly summing up Arn-Maciska's current attitude towards the entire situation.

Supreme Commander Aricar was back in Trinity; that meant he was in Farmina officially. Unofficially? Farminan soldiers were everywhere; peace reigned in Trinity, peace at gun point. Today however was not about the Province of Trinity and its ambiguous status.

Powerful elements of the international community had been quick to recognise Scirenia; which weakened the Messians claim that Scirenia wasn’t independent. Now the remainder of Snyder’s troops were surrendering, as Farmina counted its massive haul from the attack on Directorate HQ. Most of the Force Commanders were in Farminan protection, Amy Ackvick now amongst them. The only thing that was wrong was Zeresh’s involvement, the furious thrust north was proving hard to stop…

Two soldiers escorted the former force commander, and Snyder collaborator, Chris Kaider to Aricar, breaking the Supreme Commander’s thought chain. “Your usefulness is at an end,” said Aricar firmly to the prisoner.

“You better not be meaning...!” Kaider said, exasperated.

“We are releasing you,” replied Aricar, “We promised to protect you and we have. You kept your end of the bargain and played a role in our victory. It is still our expectation that you do not return to the MES. We are giving you a new identity. You will leave Farmina and never return. You will take up a new life in one of the backwater covenant countries and no one will ever hear about you again. You died during the war. Little will be known about what side you were on.”

“W...what?” Kaider said, stutteringly, “My family! My friends!”

“We will lobby whoever is put in charge of the MES to give you a funeral with full military honours and an appropriate military widow's pension for your wife,” said Aricar, “As opposed to lobbying for an inquiry into how closely you were connected with Snyder.”

Kaider frowned in response, and looked away, “All I wanted to do was to stop Snyder...not get into the middle of it.”

“Mister Charles,” said Aricar, handing Kaider his new passport, “Your new life is waiting. You have to accept that Christopher Kaider died, but died honourably. Otherwise I shall have to talk to Tobias Grey, and his solution might be messy."”

“I’m going to miss this place...” said Kaider.

Aricar didn’t correct Kaider by pointing out that this side of the Sea of Trinity was now Farmina and instead said, “You are saying goodbye to everything, I realise that. But you have made the right choice. Your flight is waiting.”

OOC: I assume by "covenant" you mean me.

IC:
Kaider's arrival in the backwaters of the Covenant was seen by cold and detached eyes. Vårheim's trans-regional migration laws, always bordering on the xenophobic, were extremely strict these days; sneaking in unnoticed was no longer possible. If that wasn't enough, the Civil Service's watchfulness had reached new heights of paranoia since the Squall Straits Incident.

Fortunately for the former Force Commander, he wasn't considered a threat; this explained the total lack of SIS agents, or bounty hunters waiting to collect the half-million rachmas that Valdir had placed on his head, when he passed through the eternal mists shrouding the Bifrost Gates.

The owners of those unblinking eyes agreed; as long as he was a good boy, quiet and law-abiding, the exiled man could look forward to a long and peaceful life as one of His Serene Majesty's loyal subjects, shielded and forever hidden by the cloak of the Covenant. It might even be a happy one.

There was no alternative.

James Ackvick and his companions had been moved to Ricco during the night. They were given a spacious flat and fed quality meals; even if the meals significantly lacked in quantity. Their status had become ambiguous after the attack on Verica and it was unclear if they were still honoured guests, or now prisoners. The reality was that they were in fact both.

Tobias Grey walked in with a great deal of self-importance, blackshirts on both his flanks. Nearly a day had passed since the Verica attacks and a lot had happened: Snyder’s capture, Amy Ackvick’s arrest, the commencement of hostilities with Zeresh, Tobias Grey’s brief visit to Sciren to make a speech and now the Farminan news was claiming that reconstruction of the White Palace had already recommenced, although no mention was made of the thousands of other buildings damaged or completely ruined.

“Lets sort this out once and for all,” said President Grey, “This has gone on too long.”

“It has,” Ackvick replied.

“We can’t begin to talk unless you accept democracy, Farmina’s claim to Trinity and the independence of Scirenia,” said Tobias Grey, helping himself to a seat, “George, get the wine glasses.”

The black-shirt named George did as he was told.

Ackvick just sat there stunned. “You expect us to allow you to cut up our nation like tuna?!” Dasch exclaimed.

“No,” said Tobias Grey, as the black-shirt began pouring out red wine, “Tuna is dead when cut up; unlike your nation which I’ve decided to spare.”

There was silence; Tobias Grey had been promising to make the Militia Enforced State pay, but only now were they comprehending how serious he was.. “Perhaps we have nothing to talk about,” said Tobias Grey.

“Perhaps I should stab a butterknife down your...!” Dasch blasted, followed in mid sentence by Ackvick’s “Shut up you fool!”

“Another comment like that Mister Dasch and I’ll splatter you all over the wall,” said one of the President’s body guards, pointing his SMG in Dasch’s general direction.

Dasch went silent for a long while after that.

“Well James, will you accept the Republic of Scirenia?” asked Grey, “Otherwise I might as well head home.”

Ackvick frowned. “Acceptable, but only under the conditions that they are not equipped with a military. In exchange, I wish to completely revamp how our military is designed.”

“The Republic of Scirenia will be allowed a military,” corrected Tobias Grey.

“The Republic of Scirenia will be allowed a self-defense force,” Ackvick countered.

“The Republic of Scirenia will have a military; but will disavow any course of launching unilateral warfare against the MES,” offered Tobias Grey.

“And how do you expect to have them keep their word?” Ackvick replied, “They probably hate us with a passion now. A self-defense force would protect them in an invasion, yet prevent them the means to go on a major military conquest. I myself am willing to bring the MES down that route as well.”

“A self defence force is a military by another name, how would you stop them attacking MES with a defence force?” retorted Tobias Grey, “Let me tell you how; Farminan influence in Scirenia and superior Messian numbers.”

“Short ranged fighters, and short ranged vehicles,” Ackvick replied.

“We will not leave Scirenia weak to be attacked by a future Messian government,” said Tobias Grey.

“...A democratic MES,” Ackvick corrected.

“And a democratic Scirenia,” said Tobias Grey, “Two strong nations side by side in peace. We won’t cripple our own ally.”

“You must think of us as evil pricks,” Foster mentioned.

“And you must think me a fool,” said Tobias Grey, “Scirenia will be allowed a full military, but Farmina shall have influence over the foreign policy of our new ally.”

When a big nation propped up a little one; it was natural the big one would gain a great deal of influence over the little one.

Ackvick went silent. “This is more like the Treaty of Versailles than a diplomatic negotiation,” Foster pointed out.

Tobias Grey was so impolite as to laugh at Foster, “Negotiation, what do you have to negotiate with? I have all the high cards.”

Ackvick glared at Tobias Grey. “We could always sacrifice ourselves by eliminating you. Wouldn’t your nation be screwed then?” Dasch replied.

Ackvick then slapped Dasch.

Tobias Grey pointed to his bodyguards, “I’d hate to have Force Commander wallpaper Mister Dasch.”

Ackvick looked at Tobias, “Tobias...please, be reasonable. After all, we were the ones that did a lot of helping for your nation back before the tyrant....after all, I’m not liable for what my selfish friend here might do to you at the sacrifise of his own life.”

Tobias Grey sipped some more wine, “I won't go and put limits on Scirenia’s sovereignty. Its not big enough to actually threaten you; surely that is enough?”

“First Trinity, second Scirenia. What’s next? The United States of Bridonia? Jakan? Sto'Kolv? Norrania? New Farmina?” Foster ranted.

“Once the treaty is signed everything is set in cement,” responded Tobias Grey heavily, “But if we are discussing additional claims, Borteloga is to be given to Farmina.”

Tobias didn’t think that counted as a massive demand, since Borteloga lacked a civilian Messian population.

“List ALL the terms,” Ackvick said bluntly, “And nothing unreasonable or I may decide to continue the war on our own accord.”

“Recognition of the Republic of Scirenia and Farmina’s claim to Trinity. Borteloga and the strip of land between Scirenia and Angelas-Francisco will also be transferred Farmina. MES will convert to a mutually agreeable form of democracy. The MES will recognise the International Court of Freedom as a legitimate body of law. The MES will end conscription. The MES will face military restriction and only be allowed to have international financial relations with Farmina. MES must pay the full cost of the war, excluding Zeresh related expenses. The MES will be forbidden from space. MES will approve my plan for the carve up of its offshore mining operations,” instructed Tobias Grey.

“Too much, not acceptable,” Ackvick replied, “All of them individually, are okay, but combined is too much. It will destroy us, and I’m not going to destroy our nation economically and socially because of your half-century of hatred of how we stand.”

“MES will get a fair share of the offshore mining,” said Tobias Grey, “And Messians may be employed to operate the Farminan ones.”

That was a limited response if ever there was one.

“Keep going,” Ackvick stated, “After all, our government can’t afford the full cost of two wars, and Snyder’s atrocious spending on space weapons.”

“I nearly forgot,” said Tobias Grey, “The treaty must explicitly contain Messian recognition of Farmin’'s rule of Arandior. Fifty percent of the offshore mines returned to MES, along with all the onshore mines we occupied.”
‘
“Still too high, and acceptable, regarding Arandior,” Ackvick replied.

“We can offer to amalgamate a lot of Snyder’s debt into one loan,” said Tobias Grey, “The interest rates will be reasonable compared to those on an international war loan.”

“You’re talking trillions of credits here!” Ackvick said, more harshly than before.

“Correct," said Tobias Grey, “I have a lot of Verica to rebuild, not to mention Ricco, Alice and Sciren. We have to spent a lot on military equipment and soon our service men’s and war widow’s pensions will begin to bite. I warned you about the path you were walking down. You made your bed, now lie in it.”

“And we don’t have these expenses? Keep in mind that there’s a lot of damage in cities all across the MES!” Ackvick countered.

“Especially Dylaria,” confirmed Tobias Grey, “You will be able to scrap together the resources for repairs in time. The interests of Farmina, even if less devastated, are a priority.”

“We have billions of people. In that city alone was a hundred million!” Ackvick exclaimed.

“This is business,” said Tobias Grey with a complete poker face, “I am willing to offer reasonable concessions; enough to stop you completely imploding, enough to ensure we see our money. Sob stories will not help you now.”

“You’re still making the price to too high,” Ackvick warned. “If you don't agree to our terms, we’ll even sink all of our platforms, and let the Zereshians take your hard-earned pieces of land.”

“We seized your platforms during the fighting and removed any destruct mechanisms,” said Grey, “And you want the Zereshians running through your land. We can take them alone; I can’t say the same for you.”

“We’d fight together," Ackvick replied, quickly backing away from his threat, “Although the Zereshians are bad news, and we want them gone as much as you do, right now I’m contemplating who is the bigger of two evils.”

“We are doing this for your own good,” said Tobias Grey, as though a teacher lecturing a school boy, “A lesson your people will learn to bone, a mark carried across to the next generation.”

Tobias Grey licked his lips, “If it ends all objections, tFarmina won’t take the strip of land between Scirenia and Angelas-Francisico.”

Ackvick smiled, “Let us have our satellite TV and weather satellites, monitored through your space agency, and letting us have a more global market with first rate nations, so we don’t starve, and I will accept your terms.”

“Your economic relations with other nations can go through us,” said Tobias Grey, who then gave another couple of small concessions, “and Scirenia. If you want satellite television and the weather, we are happy to share, at a price.”

“...A reasonable price, I hope,” Ackvick replied, “And have our economic trade between the MES and Farmina to be put partially towards paying down the war debt?”

“You can use the haren you earn by trading with Farmina to pay off your war debt,” said Tobias Grey, “Since the war debt will be in haren, you will have to trade with us to get the haren you need to pay us.”

“A reasonable conclusion,” Foster replied.

“We haven’t discussed military limitations,” said Tobias Grey, “other than ending conscription. I suggest these come into effect once Zeresh is dealt with.”

Tobias Grey opened his briefcase and put several files on the table, each with a cover sheet on the front, titled “Report on a Sustainable Messian Military,” detailing the Messian military being the size of that of your average 1 billion citizen liberal democracy, rather than a 2 billion citizen military dictatorship.

“If you can protect us,” Ackvick replied, “I don’t care. But I suggest that you let us design weapons for trade; our designs are above the curve over a number of nations, and if you want that edge, rather than not-so-cheap knockoffs...”

“This is the end of the Messian weaponry trade, you should consider something more productive like vineyards,”commented Tobias Grey, filling his glass full of wine again, “The report also ends your possession of WMD and super-weapons. We will accept you under our wing, as long as you don’t bite it.”

By that, Tobias Grey wanted the Messians to dance when he sung; not unlike what he expected from Scirenia.

“Bah, dispose them weapons, I despise anything like nukes anyways,” Ackvick replied, “But the weapons trade...we can trade weapons with you. After all, that could be better weapons for less than other manufacturers.”

“...And we can start other major industries as well,” Foster added.

“You can try and do business in the weapons trade,” said Tobias Grey, “But the new balance of power changes things. You must also stay within the limits of the report.”

The fat man poured himself another glass of wine, “Should we discuss a new Messian constitution?”

Ackvick smiled, “If you promise to go with our suggestions.”

“I’ll listen to your ideas,” said Tobias Grey.

“First, let’s start with what you had in mind,” Foster said.

“Bicameral parliament,” said Tobias Grey, “The lower house is elected by proportions, the upper house by regions.”

“Go on,” Ackvick replied.

“The lower house appoints and dismisses the government,” continued Tobias Grey, “The lower house has the power to dissolve the Parliament and calls fresh elections. Otherwise elections are held every three years, on Saturdays.”

“Now, what keeps the lower house in check?” Foster inquired

“The upper house, judiciary and local governments: states, provinces, whatever you want to call them,” said Tobias Grey, “Also the lower house can only dissolve the upper house by dissolving itself. The lower house will also be far more fractured than the regionally elected upper house.”

“The upper house can veto legislation and government monies,” said Tobias Grey, “While several powers are kept off the federal government and given to local governments and their respective parliaments.”

“I believe that the upper house should be also elected in the same way as the lower house, and no parties,” Ackvick stated.

“How are you going to manage large numbers of people without parties?” asked Tobias Grey.

“Good point,” Ackvick replied, “But fortunately, I do have something in mind. There should be an application process for those wanting to run, and government funding and spending caps on canidates, so that anyone can run. But then when they apply, they must pass a much condensed version of the Force Commander trials.”

Tobias Grey didn’t see how a test replaced political parties or helped manage a parliament that would contain thousands of people. Grey firmly said, “I don’t think having a process which tells people who they can and can’t vote for is a good idea. It rather misses the point of having elections.”

“It’s more of an ethics test,” Ackvick reassured.

“An ethics test which will eliminate a certain type of people,” said Tobias Grey, “An election is far more comprehensive ethics test.”

“An ethics test that brought your nation into internal turmoil,” Foster noted.

“Look at your own nation then critise,” struck Tobias Grey, his words laced with malice.

“Which is why a combination of the two would be perfect,” Ackvick finished.

That struck Tobias Grey as an unreasoned argument, warning bluntly, “I am not using the Force Commander test or any derivate of it.”

“Then we’re doomed to fail, again in the future,” Ackvick replied.

“What is so special about MES that it needs Force Commanders to run it?” asked Tobias Grey, “Do you have so little faith in the Messian public?”

“I didn’t say Force Commanders,” Ackvick replied. “I said testing for all candidates for office.”

“You didn’t say it, there I agree. Force Commander testing is what were you thinking,” noted Grey cynically.

“Testing for five hundred people,” Ackvick replied.

“This discussion is finished,” responded Tobias Grey loudly, making his fat chin wobble, “I have made myself quite clear that this kind of testing is nonsense. In fact I have very little positive to say about the kind of people it has selected. The election and nomination processes, as well as corruption investigation, will be the sole testing of candidates.”

“Then give us an idea on how to make a good system, regarding candidate competency,” Ackvick mumbled.

“Make sure campaigns and candidates are very public,” said Tobias Grey, “Don’t vote for people who crack under the heat.”

“Snyder could have passed that with flying colors,” Dasch commented.

“He also got passed your test,” retorted Grey, “But one person in a bicameral parliament doesn’t wield much power.”

“Right,” Ackvick replied, “But I’ve also seen corrupt parties. I swear that your party, as well as the Liberals, seem to have a very unhealthy personal police force directly tied to your party.”

“The Farminan military is not renowned for its loyalty to the government,” responded Tobias Grey with some reluctance, “With Justinian still out there, the parties must be prepared to fend for themselves.”

“Still...I saw the inter-force wars with my own eyes...if you ever so want to, you could have ordered your personal militia to assassinate every enemy leader, and leave the nation to single-party rule,” observed Ackvick.

Dasch looked at Ackvick as he spoke. He had been silent for a long while.

“I do not need the black-shirts to assassinate all the party leaders,” responded Tobias Grey, “I would suggest such a move would be foolish and lack subtly. You ‘Force Commanders’ don't seem to understand anything but beating your opponents with a stick. This is the problem when you make politicians out of military men.”

“Where on earth did you get that idea from?” Ackvick replied in surprise, “We never said we only believed in force...in fact, we rarely use it, until this goddamned war.”

“You seemed to think there was gain in killing your political rivals,” said Tobias Grey, “Some of us know better.”

“If we really thought that,” Foster replied, “You, and probably your entire government wouldn’t even exist, as we would have destroyed it. But we'd rather keep world power structure the way it is.”

“Do you even remember what we were talking about?” asked Tobias Grey, as the Messians descended deeper into talking gibberish.

“Making a new government, why we can’t use our old regulations in leadership selection, and switching to a dual general-electorate parliamentary system?” Ackvick replied.

“Because your test was nonsense, and dangerous nonsense at that,” said Tobias Grey.

“It needs to be revised, to cover as many possibilities as possible,” Ackvick replied.

Foster looked at Ackvick with a look of disagreement. “It’s likely not doable.”

“Each party can have its own test for candidates and if the ‘Party of Old School Loons’ wants to use your test they can,” said Tobias Grey, “But I am not letting a test take priority over the will of the people.”

“No parties,” Foster repeated from earlier.

“And how would you define a party?” said Tobias Grey, “You can’t ban something without a crystal clear definition.”

Foster shifted in his chair a little. “A party would be a democratic organization, which is made to bring a group of like-minded individuals together for the purpose of being elected, or to support those who are elected. A party would also be an organization with government funding; something that we won't permit.”

“You want to ban groups of like-minded individuals,” said Tobias Grey, “Or do you want to ban all organisations without government funding. Farminan parties don’t use government funds, so are Farmina style parties legitimate?”

“Probably the former, more like it,” Foster replied, “I want to see an equal chance for anyone to run for office in their district, regardless of background or status, but passing some sort of ethics thing that I hope that, if our system is implemented, is put into place.”

“People can run as independents or start their own parties,” said Tobias Grey, “Although I would love to watch lawyers trying to ban associations of like minded individuals, its a disaster waiting to happen.”


“Alright, but what if we banned the use of a group’s name in an election, forcing people to vote on the person themselves?” Ackvick interjected.

“That could work,” hesitated Tobias Grey, “Although in the lower house it might be more difficult.”

“How so?” Ackvick asked.

“That is a proportional system and they tend to work on party tickets,” said Tobias Grey, “Each party having a long list of candidates.”

“What about a really large multiple party system?” Foster asked, “Force the vote between ten and twenty parties?”

“That’s what a large proportional system should do,” said Tobias Grey, “Although you will still only have handful of major party’s, probably between two and five, but you will also end up with a large number of minor parties.”

“Maybe a party seat maximum?” Foster asked. “Plus whatever party gets the most gets an extra seat for a PM.”

“Each parties candidate would run first on their list, nearly ensuring each party leader a seat,” said Tobias Grey, “And I will not allow a maximum seat number; though any reasonable maximum would be unlikely to be reached.”

“I was like thinking sixty seats out of three-hundred, per house,” Foster replied.

“That is stringent,” said Tobias Grey, “Absolutely not. The upper house may well be two party with a big bunch of independents; from which seats would you sack the elected candidate? At random tell a seat they voted for the wrong party and try again?”

“Having multiple choices on a ballet would be a practical solution, like a second, third and fourth choice,” Foster replied.

“You may have four choices," said Tobias Grey, “But regional seats tend to elect from the two biggest parties or an independent.”

“We want a system where people can vote for what they stand for, not what the next best thing or whoever comes up, or whoever they’re forced to vote for,” Foster replied.

Foster seemed tangled up in his own messy logic. “And you want them to vote for who the want to, but not too much, in fact not more than twenty percent,” observed Tobias Grey.

Foster went silent, “Alright, let me start from the beginning. I want a non-corruptible, accountable system which allows voting diversity, no titles, no militias, and letting people have the choice to vote on what they want, not a fillbuster.”

“Well your first term comes straight from fantasy land,” said Tobias Grey, “The second is inherent in democracy. The system allows you to vote for anyone running; but that doesn’t mean everyone running will win. Minor parties will have difficulties in the upper house; independents and regional interests won't have an easy time in the lower house. I’m not sure what you mean by no title but no militias is completely acceptable.”

“No titles, as in no ‘Moralist’, or ‘Liberal’, or ‘Conservative’,” Foster replied.

“I think those make it easier for the voter,” said Tobias Grey, “I think banning people having groups with names is quite unreasonable. And what do you put on campaign advertising, “vote” followed by a massive long list of names, or a huge number of posters, each with one name?”

“I’m not expecting all five-hundred candidates to be running in one single voting area,” Foster replied, “But I expect about ten people per area. No parties allows people to cross the floor and have free opinions.”

“In the lower house there is only one electorate; its not regionally based like the upper house,” said Tobias Grey, “And its much easier to remember “Liberal” than a person’s name.”


“Then do you have an idea to accommodate our wishes, yet make it easy? You’re a better politician than I am,” Foster admitted.

“Putting individual candidates on the party list means that there is some emphasis on the individual,” said Tobias Grey, “Individuals that do better than their own party know they have the leverage to cross the floor occasionally, but not often enough for them to be practically from a different party.”

Foster nodded.

“We will also need to set up an independent judiciary,” noted Tobias Grey, “headed by a Supreme Court. I think we have now discussed everything, correct?”

“Can we be the Supreme Court? It’s similar to the Force Commander role, but different,” Foster replied.

Tobias Grey couldn’t see the similarity, Force Commanders were more like executioners. “Are you a qualified judge?” asked Tobias Grey, “If so, yes. However there will be a constitutional clause requiring no person to be any of the following simultaneously: a member of the military, judge, member of the public service, member of the Federal Parliament or a member of the Local Parliaments.”

“Understandable,” Foster replied.

“Is there anything else to discuss?” asked Tobias Grey, wondering if his hair was more grey after that exasperating conversation.

“May we deal with that bitch now, excuse my language?” Ackvick replied.

“We’ll send you on your way once we’ve signed a memorandum of understanding that will prelude the treaty signing,” said Tobias Grey, “These things take time to draft. We’ve already started discussions with your men on the ground for co-operation. The Farminan troops are doing what they can, but we are taking a hammering and trying to gather up as many reinforcements as we can. Hopefully we’ll even have the first units of the Army of Scirenia ready within the month.”

“Beat them across the border, and that should be enough to contain them again...for now,” Foster replied, “As you probably guessed, we’ve tried to annex and stop them for years...they’ve just been too strong to take them out. The Queen is very dangerous.”

Tobias Grey gestured to one of his guards, who passed him a map, which Tobias Grey laid out on the table, “We believe the Queen is driving for Varsity. So far her campaign has been concentrated in the north, and we suspect she’ll maintain that to exploit on her current gains.”

“She may be heading towards the capital, cut us off at the head,” Ackvick replied.

“That is a long way, away,” noted Tobias Grey, “If that is her long term aim, it will take time as we grapple with her every step of the way.”

“If she takes and holds the capital,” Ackvick replied, “Our entire force and morale will crumble. We cannot let that happen.”

That Snyder carried on perfectly fine with the capital in rebel hands, struck Tobias Grey as a good response, but he was more pragmatic, “I don’t intend on letting that happen. I don’t intend that she gets past Varsity, but for that we need to co-operate.”

“Alright, what did you have in mind?” Ackvick replied, “Our forces are on the brink of collapse. We’re still numerous, but morale is probably at its lowest since the dark times.”

“We have equipment,” said Tobias Grey, “which we expect will be returned. Farminan troops will help support Messian units in the north, but Messians achieving their own victories will improve moral. Farmina will build up in the north and in the west and the Republic of Scirenia will also play a supporting role in the west with its new force.”

Tobias Grey’s eyes returned to the map, “Field Marshal Salamander and Supreme Commander Aricar have been discussing, dare I say fighting over strategy. The decision has been that while we get organised, emphasis should be on containing the Zereshian thrust north and cause maximum casualties to the Zereshians. When we are ready, Farmina will launch a major offensive in the west, which has been and is expected to remain quiet, with the aim of threatening Amelia. Zeresh will be forced to call off its offensive in an attempt to contain ours.”

“Be careful...” Foster replied, “She has stopped us in the past, using very cheap tactics including all sorts of WMD’s against us. Took us five years to decontaminate the area.”

“If you have nothing constructive to say,” said Tobias Grey, “shut up. Be careful! And there we were planning to be thoroughly reckless.”

“Any objections to the basic plan?” asked Tobias Grey.

“Sounds good,” Ackvick replied.

“When Farmina launches its offensive in the west,” said Tobias Grey, “We will need a series of smaller offensives in the north to keep the Zereshians tangled in knots on the north front.”

“What if they dodge left?” Dasch asked, breaking his lengthy silence.

“Then they’ll be exposing their own flank,” responded Grey, using correct military jargon.

“Well, this war isn’t waiting for us, we better get started, and us back to our country,” Ackvick replied.

“Once the memorandum of understanding is typed and signed, I’ll let you go,” said Tobias Grey, “Zereshian forces won’t be reaching your capital by tomorrow, so there is nothing to worry about.”

“Lives?” Ackvick pressed.

“Do you really have such a high importance of yourselves?” said Tobias Grey, “You’ll be out by dinner time. Zereshian forces are currently preparing for their next push. You can wait a few hours.”

“Time spent preparing,” Ackvick replied. “Do politics really have to override the fight of our nation’s life? Can’t we wait until the war is over? After all, if we decided to stab you in the back, you'd just boil us en-masse.”

“You will wait a few hours,” said Tobias Grey, “The Messians can and will live without your assistance. And yes, politics and policy is more important that your presence. I have to go and see about a whole new direction for propaganda then find several million extra rifles rounds.”

The President stood up, finishing off his wine, “So I wish you goodbye.”

Grey walked out on his short little leds. The door was locked from the outside behind him and his guards.

Dasch turned back to the two commanders at his sides. “You guys just sold our nation’s soul to the devil reincarnate.”

Ackvick sighed, “With a big-ass gun to our heads, what else can we do, other than commit a nationwide hari-kari?”

Dasch slumped back onto his chair. “We’re fucked.”

Top Secret Memorandum to the Excellent Sir, the Ruiri Alexandr L'Tan,
His Serene Majesty's Junior Minister for External Affairs
Regarding the recent police actions in the Militia Enforced State and their relevance to the Covenant
From the Secretariat of State for Imperial Security (Migrant Co-ordination Bureau)

...and therefore we are confident in recommending that the "HAZ" flag be lifted from N21. The actions of N17 (DRF) have rendered it a non-viable threat militarily, and the infrastructure of the continent is in ruins.

The actions of an "empire of Zerash" to the south will not, we feel, affect the situation in any significant way (see section C); to summarise, the Farminans have more than enough military assets deployed in the area to counter any move they could make. In addition, this nation is not important enough to warrant a notation in the catalogue.

The several individuals formerly of N21 (see section D) located within the Covenant are deemed non-hazardous, and can be neutralised in the usual several ways, by multiple agencies, including domestic security.

In any case, their dates and causes of death, as determined by the SIS, are as follows...

[Junior Minister's notation; the CMIRI flag on N21 has been altered accordingly.]

The fighting wasn't going well for Zeresh; her failure to capture Snyder has caused the Messians and the Farminans to join forces against her loyal troops. This was a very unfortunate setback; the crusade would yet again have to wait...at least, until the Farmians leave Messian soil. If they leave Messian soil.

"Damnit," the Queen mumbled while looking at her reports. "All of that for nothing. Call the withdrawl!"

"Your highness?!" one of her top commanders exclaimed. "We've almost reached the capital!"

She shook her head in annoyance. "Follow my orders or you'll find you and your head as two!"

The commander nodded, turned, and started working with his cohorts to have Zeresh's troops to fall back to the old line. There, the Queen thought, is where they can block anyone trying to break in; they held against the Messians for decades; surely their defenses will hold against a vastly weakened enemy alliance. As well, she thought that they wouldn't dare try to overthrow their own nation.

Only time would tell.

Tobias Grey exhaled a breath of tobacco enriched air as he looked around the pitiful attempts to rebuild Verica. Massive devastation meant massive effort for reconstruction, and without it. The labour pool was heavily drained by far greater needs.

A sudden gust of wind stole Tobias’ cigarette and gently realigned the President’s hair. Another body was being pulled from the rubble off to the left as the President turned away. Most of the rubble was cleared now and most of the dead were intentionally buried as opposed to unintentionally buried. Work still went on.

Grey took a step towards his aged Chancellor for Foreign Affairs. The obese president’s girth wobbled as he moved, dancing like jelly. The thinner, frailer man twisted his head in respect to his old friend.

“There is news,” said Tobias Grey, reading Sullivan like a book.

“The forces of Zeresh are in full scale retreat,” said Sullivan, “Supreme Commander Aricar believes they plan a last stand in Zeresh. For a change, Aricar and Salamander are in complete agreement; they believe we can pursue them and defeat them with Messian aid. Rumour is that Zeresh wants out of the war.”

“Let them out,” said Tobias Grey, his chins bobbing as he spoke, “Make peace through the backdoor. They never officially declared war, this can be swept under the table.”

“Tobias!” exclaimed Sullivan, “This goes completely against our policy. We deal with threats by crushing them, hunting them to the death.”

“That is my decision,” said Tobias Grey firmly, his face carried no emotions.

“This completely out of character Tobias,” Sullivan astutely observed, “It is as though you are trying to cover over a plot problem with a doily.”

“Nonsense,” insisted Tobias, “Both Zeresh and MES have hurt themselves, especially MES. Now they will be counter balancing powers. Neither can act without taking into account the actions of the other. Indeed hurting Zeresh will hurt us, when we are still trying to stand on the Messians. We cannot let Trinity or Scirenia to fall out of our grasp, not after so many young men died so we could have them.”

“There is logic to that,” admitted Sullivan, which was different to admitting Tobias’ claim was the truth.

“Good,” said Tobias Grey, watching as a crane lift a steel beam, “The sooner we get the train back on track the better.”

Two weeks had passed since Zeresh quietly withdrew from the war. The streets of Trinity were still full of men in Farminan green. Tobias straightened his tie as he prepared to enter the main conference hall, in the building that had become home of the collaborationist regime in Trinity.

Phillip Sullivan passed Tobias Grey a note, which he read and pocketed. “That is interesting. Make sure everything goes as arranged,” observed Grey, doing up his top button.

On Tobias’ left was the Farminan appointed Premier of the Republic of Scirenia, and the Scirenian delegation. The Messian delegation would enter the hall from the opposite side. Journalists, foreign delegates and representatives from the Trinity Provincial Government already packed the hall.

“Ready,” said Tobias Grey, checking his cuff links.

The doors at both ends of the conference hall swung open as the Farminan national anthem began to play and Tobias Grey walked forward to the conference table with great self importance. The Farminan anthem came to the end and next came to the Messian national anthem, although a technical error caused it to play with completely the wrong tone.

The doors opened to reveal James and Amy Ackvick, AJ Dasch, and Lance Foster, in Messian formality uniforms, entering the room. James winced at the music.

Tobias Grey nodded to the Messian delegates, speaking just above a whisper, “I believe you brought Dan Rickhart with you.”

“We did,” Ackvick responded in his own whisper.

The distorted Messian anthem ended and the Scirenian anthem began, as the Scirenian delegation entered. Tobias Grey gave a return whisper to Ackvick as he removed the note he received earlier from his pocket, “I believe he is planning to defect.”

Ackvick looked astonished, Rickhart had defected to MES from Farmina, albeit Farmina had been rather unbalanced at the time.

A functionary handed out three copies of the treaty, one to each delegation. Tobias Grey switched his microphone on and spoke to the gathered audience, “Ladies and gentlemen, I bring you peace in our time. The victory of freedom over tyranny is one that cannot falter. And that is why we are here, to ensure peace, prosperity and freedom for all people. Would James Ackvick care to add anything to that?”

Ackvick stood up, and took hold of the microphone off of the desk. He looked at the cameras, looked at the microphone, looked at Amy, then looked back at the cameras. “I will,” Ackvick replied over the microphone. “Citizens of Militia Enforced State, the new Republic of Scirenia, and those now under direct Farminan authority. I speak to you not as your leader, but as a fellow citizen.”

He looked down at the microphone, “The rest of the remaining ‘force commanders’, would agree with me when I...I say, I failed you all, and words cannot describe...the sorrow...”

Ackvick looked down, regained his composure, then looked back up. “...The feelings I have to express the loss of your loved ones that perished, your way of life, your unity, and the amount of loss that we have all suffered.”

He looked towards Tobias, then looked back. “But now is a new age for our great nation, and today...I hope to repair the damage done by the tyrant Snyder, his criminal organization, and the system that strove so hard to protect its citizens from corruption, ended up spawning the most corrupt and downright dangerous regime the world has ever seen.”

James looked towards his wife, who had a look of emotion from various reasons on her face. He smiled with a tear in his eye, then looked back. “I don’t blame you if you do not forgive us for our sins...we don’t even blame you if you do. But...it’s time to make things right. I’m a military strategist, not a politician. In fact, the only one knowledgeable to be in politics is Lance Foster. Tobias, on the other hand, has saved his nation from his own tyrant, Justinian. I hope that he can give the same treatment of what he did with his nation, towards our own nation, and I hope that someday, the bad blood between our people, will be purified, and we can be together as allies and economic powers, once again. Now, I shall pass it back to Tobias, and thank you for giving me the opportunity to speak.”

At that, James sat down, put the microphone back, then wept into Amy’s waiting arms in a mutually emotionally stressed embrace.

Tobias Grey didn’t give any expression, although he was surprised by Ackvick’s public display of weakness, “Before we go to the treaty signing, I will review the major items.”

Tobias paused to sip at his glass of water before continuing, “All signatories find themselves at peace on the following conditions.
Item 1, all signatories recognises the Province of Trinity as part of the sovereign Democratic Republic of Farmina. The Militia Enforced State shall also turn over the Island of Borteloga to the Democratic Republic of Farmina.
Item 2, all signatories hereby recognise the Republic of Scirenia as sovereign and independent, and recognise its constitution as legitimate.
Item 3, The Constitution for a Democratic Messian State, as per Appendix A, is recognised by all signatories as the legitimate constitution of the Militia Enforced State.
Item 4, the Militia Enforced State will surrender all powers for regulating trade to the Farminan parliament.
Item 5, the Militia Enforced State will be disbarred from space.
Item 6, the Militia Enforced State will divide its offshore assets as per Appendix B.
Item 7, the Militia Enforced State will restrict its military to the limitations suggested in Appendix C, “A Sustainable Messian Military,” disbarring conscription and WMD.
Item 8, the Militia Enforced State takes full responsibility for the war.
Item 9, the Militia Enforced State will pay the full cost of the war for other parties, to the amount determined by the Council for Reparations."

James sighed. He took the pen, and just before he signed it, looked back up. “I hope this is for the best.” He signed it, then passed it to his remaining cohorts.

Tobias Grey signed his copy and passed it to James Ackvick. The Premier of Scirenia signed his copy and then passed it to Tobias Grey, who also signed it and passed it to James Ackvick. When the last copy was signed, the Farminan President returned his pen to his jacket pocket, “It is done then.”

James nodded. “I just signed our souls away. I hope you don’t abuse it,” he said.

“Medicine tastes bad,” Tobias Grey warned ambiguously.

Tobias Grey moved the cheque across his table. The first down-payment on the massive reparation debt the Messians owed. Tobias Grey lit his cigarette and tasted the sweetness of the tobacco and victory. The photo perched on the corner of his desk reminded him his wife had been dead more than a year now. There were still bad days, lonely days, but there far more good ones now, ones where Tobias felt a great man again, a man worthy of his reputation.

“Dan,” he wheezed, as Rickhart entered the President’s makeshift office, “Is everything ready?”

“The courthouse is now complete,” said Rickhart, “The trials can commence as soon as you are ready.”

Somewhere on the cluttered desk, Tobias Grey had the list of judges he was going to appoint to his ‘International Court of Liberty’. “They will commence soon,” said Grey, “I also intend to call an election, try and break James Palmer’s position in the Parliament. I hope you will run.”

“Of course,” confirmed Rickhart, walking over to the window, “Things are moving faster now.”

Rickhart was talking about the massive amounts of scaffolding appearing around Verica. The tight economic regulation from wartime had not been lifted. With young men pouring back into the country, along with Messian funds, the governments wide reaching economic powers to use these resources to rebuild Verica. Surplus military production was now being sold or stockpiled rather than sent to the frontline, as the government wound down the war economy. That was one thing that was happening slowly; returning to normality too quickly was a recipe for disaster.

“The White Palace is being rebuilt,” said Tobias Grey, “If that isn’t a symbol of the times, I don’t know what is.”

The Financial Review
HAREN PLUNGES, CREDIT CONTINUES DESCENT

Until yesterday the Farminan haren (HRN) had been performing well against international currencies, when it plunged fifteen percent against the major currencies. This poor result followed the release of official Farminan inflation data, showing that since the end of the war, inflation has increased from 0% to 11%. The Messian credit (MSC) which has been performing poorly for sometime now also fell against all major currencies except the haren, outperforming the Farminan currency for the first time in two years.

This inflation result surprised many market watchers, due to the fact that the Farminan government has not returned many of the economic powers it obtained to fight the war; both price controls and rationing remain in place. The wartime body known as the Money and Interest Board of Farmina (MIBF) has made no statement on how they will change interest rates in response to this surge in inflation, although markets are expecting a sharp increase. Tobias Grey’s office has assured the public that the Messian reparations would not be affected as the interest rate on the loan to the Messian state was indexed 1:1 with the inflation rate. Along with the HRN, the bonds sold by the Farminan government to finance the war and the reconstruction have plummeted in value, following the release of the inflation data and talk of higher interest rates. Tobias Grey’s office has said it is interested in taking advantage of the lower bond price to buy back the war bonds more quickly.

This spike in inflation despite Farmina being a low inflation country dating back to the days of Justinian, has created debate among economists. Monetarists have suggested that increased money creation by the MIBF during and after the war is now taking its toll; while Keynesians argue that demand built up during the war is now being unleashed in a single hit. Others suggest that since the inflation happened despite price controls, the inflation was the explicit intent of the government; and that the government increased money creation to both increase finance available for reconstruction and debt repayment as well as forcing down the value of the bonds.

Despite the poor inflation result is unique amongst the economic data in Farmina, with unemployment at near historical economic lows and the trade surplus large and growing. The reconstruction is also ahead of schedule. [ARTICLE CONT. pg6]

Embassy of the Covenant of Macisikan, Verica, DRF

Acting Ambassador Juana L'casir, a small, mild mannered woman in a blue suit, walked slowly down a gravel path. Around her, gardeners were putting the final restorative touches to the Embassy, damaged after the Messian attack. They nodded amiably to her, and then bent away, focusing diligently on their work at the sight of her companion. Clad in a simple black suit, with polished shoes, and, oddly, a mask of dull grey metal, fashioned in the likeness of the High King; his kind were not common, but known. And never talked about.

"... and we are most intrigued by your report on this tribunal," the masked man was saying in tones one would use to discuss the weather. "Perhaps the Farminan state will take care of the bounty matters for us... but they don't get the bounty; states are not privileged to collect these things. Should matters take a different turn, let it be known in the right places..." the Acting Ambassador nodded silently

"This little currency problem that is happening," the figure turned to face L'casir; behind her the gardeners shied away from the mask's gaze. "Not our business, not our concern. Their problem."

"Of course," L'casir replied gravely. Oddly she felt no real fear (unlike the gardeners); nervousness yes, but it was the sort you get when The Boss is in the room... and in a way, he was.

"Concerns the stability of the DRF," the figure stated calmly. They were always calm. "Unstable DRF means unpleasantness, complications, entanglements. Such are avoided, we say," L'casir blinked; they had an odd way of speaking, sometimes contradictory, often cryptic (unless it was a command), and they always spoke in the plural. This one, thank God, spoke relatively clearly... and was watching her expectantly. Oops.

Behind that mask, which had now tilted to the side, a pair of glittering eyes regarded the Acting Ambassador with... something. Was it amusement? "And we have good news sera," yes, definitely amusement, "we shall be leaving you soon, and Kûrios Co'nor shall be returning to resume his duties... fully recovered. You pleased us in his absence. Well done," the figure nodded, and glided away down the path; the gardeners bent away from it as it passed. A gloom seemed to be dispelled as it vanished into the buildings.

L'casir shivered suddenly. As far as encounters with Expressions of the Emperor's Will went, that one was quite nice.

The past month has been hell for James Ackvick; watching the destruction of his nation, the great civil war against Snyder, the negotiations with the Farminans...it was chaos. He hadn't slept it what seemed like months, and he hadn't had sex since his wife 'died'. It was hell, and he really was ready to hand the reins to someone else. He couldn't do it anymore.

Ackvick stood up to look out the balcony of his estate; it was for sale, as he was no longer payed the amount he used to earn, as well as the fact that the house was state-owned in the first place. He could see the city from where he stood; many structures in many cities were damaged enough to be forcibly replaced due to structural integrity issues. He watched the rebuilding of his nation from where he stood...

"James..."

James looked back to see his wife coming out onto the patio, dressed in very loose, comfortable clothes. She looked beautiful to him. "Yes, Amy?"

Amy slowly slid her arms around his waist, and held him gently. "Whatcha thinking about?" she said quietly, then making a yawn, which made it evident that she just came from a nap.

James's hands slid onto hers while she held on securely, while he looked at the city skyline over a beautiful sunset. "Just the future...our future, the world, our nation...so much has happened, and we've lost so much. I think about my nation and I immediately come back to this whole fiasco with Snyder..."

She moved, still embracing, to James's left, then looked at him in the eyes. "James, you have to remember, you lost a lot, I lost a lot, friends died, and what happened was not your fault, you know that and I know that."

Ackvick moved his arm and put it behind her head, across her shoulders, hand holding the upper arm securely. "I...I know," he said sadly. "Just to think that soon, our nation will be run by a number of crazy civilians...they know so little about running a country, and the world expects them to perform."

She then leaned closer, and gave a gentle, warm kiss onto James's cheek. "I love you," she replied. James turned to her, and smiled. "I know, and I love you too," he said. She softly moved her arm between his arm, and putting it into a tugging light arm-lock. "I want to do something with you now, that's long overdue, and I think we both want," she said, smiling.

James looked slightly confused. "What's that?" he asked.

She smiled with a light giggle, moving her free hand to his cheek, brushing against it, the hand landing onto his shoulder. "I want to start a family," she replied. James's jaw slowly dropped before Amy's hand gently shut it again. "We're young, we're married, and we couldn't do it before because of our duties. We're now free, we have a new life, and it's time to let our 'children', our nation, to grow up themselves. In our fathering our own country, we forget about ourselves, and I want to rectify that," she explained, then tugging on the arm-locked arm of his. "Are you ready?"

James smiled. "You're right...we must move forward. With you, I'm sure we'll be happy, and the nation, well, they'll do find without us," he repeated.

"Come here," she said.

--------
Dasch landed on his bed besides his girlfriend. He looked at her, breathing heavily and smiling. "Holy hell, when did you learn that trick in bed?" he said, laughing at his intense pleasure. She returned the smile, giving him a kiss as she too was struggling to catch her breath. "Yeah, now where did you learn that?"

They both laughed, leaned back on their respective pillows, smiled, and relaxed. He found his hand to move into his girlfriend's hand. They grasped, with a firm grip. "I love you Alana," he said quietly. Alana rolled over and snuggled up next to him. "So what's next, Alex?" she asked quietly, hand now caressing his hair above his forehead. "We're free of our duties now, and I doubt you'd want to do politics."

Dasch smiled, turning his head to look at her. "At this point, I don't know," he said, giving her a light kiss 'hello'. She responded in kind, giving a few extra to make sure the signal came through loud and clear. "I was thinking, actually," Dasch continued, putting his forehead onto hers, "...that we take another vacation. For the past few years, we've been on so many ruined trips, and been through so much. Remember when I was arrested, both here and in Farmina? Remember how I had to fetch Ackvick from the psycho ward? The list is so huge...I just want to get the hell out and see the world. I've saved a lot of money for a worldwide tour, and I think now's the chance," he said, smiling.

She grinned. "What a great idea," she said. She gave him a kiss, which turned out to be the beginning blow in another series of intimite kissing, ending short of anything stunning. "So, where should we start?" she asked.

"I was thinking Macisikan, actually," Dasch replied, grinning. "Apparently, they have a fantastic culture there. Fabled beasts, castles, dragons...I don't know if they're true or not, but by golly it would be fun to check out."

She smiled as she decided to mount on his horse again. "Well, once we're finished, I think we should start planning and packing," she replied.

"Sure beats laying here," he replied, laughing and enjoying the ride.

--------
Eight-hundred men and women filed into the prestine white chambers of the Messian Democratic Section building in downtown Francisco-Angelas for the first time since Snyder's reign, and for the first time, without the guidance of the Force Commanders. They all took a seat, as a familiar face stood in the center of the large stadium-like conference room.

"Welcome to our new democracy," Foster said, gesturing to the candidates for the upcoming election. "You are all candidates for the new election starting up in one month's time. I see that a number of you have already got your voting stickers and pins on you," he stated, the latter statement gaining chuckles from the crowd. "You have a big job, and if you don't think you can take it, I suggest you leave now and forget you signed up. But running a country as large as the Militia Enforced State, and picking up where we left off right after a large war, the disintegration of our unity, and repairing the damage done by said war, will be difficult."

Foster flipped on a large overhead projector, pointing on a large, flat wall. It showed a layout of the Militia Enforced State, and voting regions. "There will be three hundred voting areas for the upper house, and I expect a clean election. Those of you that win will have a huge burden, and I expect you, as both citizens and leaders, to do your job to bring this country back to greatness after years of oppression, whether good willed or not."

Foster flipped off the projector. "Here, I am announcing my application...I'm running for the Francisco-Angelas downtown region." The response got a mixed response from the people in the well-packed room. "But remember, I may be running, but so are the rich and poor...we've done our best to let anyone that wants to, to run if they so wish. But as I emphasize, keep the election clean, and I want a good government for our people. We cannot afford anymore screw-ups at this point. If we do, we're going to end up as a third-world country, with famine and the whole nine yards. As I said, don't think you can do it? Drop out of the running. But if you think you can, by all means, give it your best shot. See you all in the races! This meeting is adjourned."

Foster smiled as the people talked amongst themselves as they filed out. He hoped that this would be the best for his country. However, someone caught his eye...he swore he's seen the person before. Red hair...athletic build...

He shook his head. Must have been imaging things.

Timothy ‘Lucan’ kissed Tia on the cheek, “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Tia smiled, returning the kiss to Timothy. “You’re all I have left. I’m a traitor, I have no family, my friends disown me, if not plan on reporting me outright, and my home's been sold to the highest bidder.”

Timothy had replaced his short dark hair with blond tips, with medium length red hair. He'd insisted that Tia have a few changes, but he wanted to keep her out of sight all the same. He’d lost too many people and he didn't want to lose another. Preparations had been made for her if he were found out.

Timothy straightened his tie, “Then its time for me to meet the future.”

She smiled, and gave him another kiss. “Go get‘em Timmy,” she said, intentionally in a very corny way.

“It’s the man you’ve all been waiting to here…Mister Timothy Lucan.”

The crowd burst into applause on the opposite of the curtain. Timothy walked out onto the weary wooden stage without looking back. Floor creaked under Kael’s dark heavy shoes as they thudded along the floor. The aging theatre had been deliberately chosen, and not only because of the budget that threatened to strangle the campaign.

The audience sparkled. Cameras were going off, not only because of supporters gathered through Timothy’s rabble rousing, but he also had the media’s attention. The newspapers had dubbed him a ‘major competitor’ and he still hadn’t announced any intention for his organisation to compete. That was largely his own doing, playing people, the media, into his web.

The last of the solid footsteps on the creaky floor was heard when Timothy reached the lectern. His blue tie shone against his dark suit, under the harsh theatre lighting. The audience fell obediently silent without any words other than his body language. Young, charismatic, large and strong all played central roles in the political brand Timothy was trying to sell. And tonight he would sell it again.

“Ladies and gentlemen, today Lance Foster officially opened the election race and already thousands of candidates representing hundreds of parties have declared their intention to join the race. Only a handful will successfully acquire any power.

The socialists tell us the economy of old that kept our people poor and hungry is the way of the future. I tell them that they are delusional.

The hardliners call for our country to continue fighting the war against Farmina despite the fact we have already lost. I call that insanity. Considering the harsh terms the Militia Enforced State has only just accepted, imagine what Tobias Grey would do to us if we launched a full scale invasion of Scirenia with the scraps of a military we have left.

The greens believe we can save our beloved country by chaining ourselves to trees and turning our back on industry. That my friends if foolishness. How can we feed our people, clothe our children or pay off our debts without the great wheel of industry turning?

Religious conservatives of all colours of tell us that the future requires God to be brought back into politics. They say God has turned his back on the MES and given his blessing to Farmina and the Republic of Scirenia. Such a claim I call dogma. God is surely above politics. And if He wants to play a role in politics he should announce his own candidacy and not have an assortment of religious fanatics do it for him.”

That line received a laugh, just as Timothy expected it to. He continued on, “Lance Foster also announced his nomination…”

Timothy was drowned out for a few seconds by booing and hissing, a problem of his own creation due to his previous speeches about the ‘rot’, “The old guard, the military aristocracy, tell us it will all be okay. Nothing is wrong. The freefall of the credit is just a hiccup. The old guard tell us that the planned economy is working out fine, yet we were barely on the poverty line before the reparations commenced. Under the rule of the military aristocracy, our nation saw years of complete tyranny under martial law. There were brief experiments with democracy but they were abandoned in exchange for a perpetuation of the old ways. Intense central planning strangled the life from the economy, as the military aristocracy launched a war against Farmina over Arandior. After losing the Arandior War, how did the military aristocracy try to redeem itself, it lost a second a war against Farmina, for which the entire nation is now paying the price…”

Rage swept around the room, the sound of resentment against two humiliating defeats could be heard throughout the room.

“…the same military aristocracy of which Force Commander Lance Foster is a member. After sinking the ship, Force Commander Foster has the gall to ask for a second chance at the helm.”

After working up the crowd that was seething from the moment MES threw in the towel, some even earlier, Kael gave them a few moments to wind down so they didn’t begin shouting abuse at Foster for the rest of the speech.

“The candidates who have nominated are a combination of idiots and madmen. The parties that are vying for your vote are offering you a choice between a lunatic’s vision of the future or a revisionist reheating of the past. You, the good people of the Militia Enforced State have been given no real choice in candidates and no real choice for the future...” Timothy allowed a brief pause, “…Until now. May I announce that I intend to run for a seat in the lower house of the new Parliament and it is my intention to occupy the office of Prime Minister. The Democratic Liberal Party will be running for Parliament, in every seat, with a full pack of candidates and a prepared cabinet. If we win a majority in the lower house, we will be ready to govern.”

The audience of faithful believers cheered. The media took their photos of Timothy, the prophecy of the newspapers turning out to be true.

“This dilapidated old theatre speaks volumes of the Militia Enforced State and the military aristocracy that has run it for so long. The aristocracy is old and creaky and have left the nation in a run down state. We can’t even find most of Dylaria! Lance Foster, this message is for you, its time for the old guard that made the mess to hand power over to a new generation with new ideas. The DLP fully supports the trials about to commence in Farmina and what they represent. The era of the old guard is over, the old ways shall go to the noose with the tyrants who defended them.”

There was brief murmuring. “The Democratic Liberals have new ideas. The Democratic Liberal Party is the only party with a sound vision for the future.

When it comes to economy, it is the DLP with a plan for the future. The DLP will bring inflation under control. The DLP will ensure this nation meets its reparation commitments. The DLP has a plan to ensure the national power, transport and communication grids are of a standard to ensure a strong economy. The Democratic Liberals will ensure a surplus of jobs; while privatising the government dominated industry. In addition to actually creating a private sector, I also pledge that red tape will be slashed, so that private industry can thrive.

In foreign policy, it is again only the DLP that is looking to the future. The military aristocracy used a policy of strength as the pillar of its foreign policy. Such a policy may be fine for Farmina, but we are now weak and will remain so. The hardliners and old guard can block their ears and deny it, but it is true. The DLP will not dispute the territorial concessions made by the Force Commanders to Farmina and the Republic of Scirenia. DLP foreign policy is not one of strength but friendship. The Militia Enforced State needs Farmina’s friendship not her hostility. Likewise we need the friendship of the Republic of Scirenia. We need the friendship of the international community. From now on we must tread carefully. It is our nation that most prove something to the world and not visa-versa.”

Timothy deliberately avoided saying that he agreed with surrendering Trinity and Scirenia, for fear of offending people.

“When it comes to welfare and tax, the DLP is also the only party with a workable plan. I promise to streamline welfare and reform the tax system. I will ensure that the poor are clothed and feed. This is not enough; the war and the destruction of Dylaria has left millions displaced. The centrepiece of my welfare policy is that the government will put a roof over every head.”

The lights dimmed, “That is our vision for the future.”

MES insisted on a new thread:

http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=525436

[/END THREAD]