NationStates Jolt Archive

One-Hundred Miles off the Coast of Wilsonna
INS Avignon, Illustrious-class CVAN

The sun slowly sank behind the horizon of never-ending water as the Avignon and her escorts were bathed in a soft orange light. Waves crashed against the carrier, her crew already in motion for the task at hand.

Orders had been handed down from command, and questions had not been asked about the situation. All that could be said was the Avignon was on the spearhead of possibly something much larger.

The silence of the scene was broken by the roar of forty-eight jet engines, as they catapulted from the deck in pairs. Their afterburners lit up as they soared into the sky, twenty-four CF-1N Banshee (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=11073181&postcount=401) naval fighters rocketing into the cloud-filled heavens above. Dusk set in as the pilots followed their GPS course waypoints, finally reaching the red line of no return.

The border where Wilsonna's territorial waters began.

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International Waters-Wilsonnan Territorial Waters Border
335th Tactical Naval Fighter Squadron "Red Bandits"
Commander Nicole "Redwing" Feldson; CIAF:N

Commander Feldson slid into formation with her squadron, one of two squadrons assigned to this raid. Their objective was simple: To engage Wilsonnan port facilities along the southwestern coast. The reasoning, however, was a different story. Something Feldson tried to avoid. Politics was not her forte by any means.

"All wings, enter into diamond formation. Target is twenty miles due north of our current position. Maintain formation, and hold fire until ordered."

She looked to the feed from the local AWACS. So far skies were clear.

"AWACS Thunderhead, Bandit One. Sitrep on possible enemy contacts?"
"Negatory, Bandit One. Skies are clear at the moment. Nothing on scopes."
"Keep me posted, Thunderhead."
"Copy that, Bandit One."

The formation continued to their targets, confident that the Wilsonnans wouldn't be too tough...

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

Imperial Palace
Cravna, Cravan

Head Director Gallens opened the door to the Imperial Office unannounced, causing the Emperor to jump at his desk in surprise.

"Vince, what is it?", he asked calmly, noticing the disgusted look about the Head Director's face. Wordlessly, Gallens walked to the Emperors desk and slammed down an envelope.

"May I politely ask what the hell this is?", he asked with an almost acidic tone to his voice. His dark eyes stared the Emperor down as he opened the folder carefully, reading the contents within.

Opn. Hammerfall: The Neutralisation of the Wilsonnan Threat

The Emperor looked up, sorrow present in his aqua eyes.

"Vince.... It had to be done sooner or later."

The Keep
Wilsonna Base of International Intellegence.

Green eyes jolted opened in shock as operator Michael Chezof took in the full horror of what he now witnessed on radar. Nearly two dozen blinking lights rushed towards the south-eastern coast of the republic, unannounced.

Turning in a rush, Michael attempted to alert the superiors "S-sir, you might wanna take a look at this...." he said gravely

The same reaction was taken by Chezof's superior as he couldn't believe his eyes. Grimly, the aging man picked up the phone on line with the Prince.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Within a matter of minutes, The Wilsonnian Airforce was scattered intyo the skies to meet this threat, hostile or not. From the looks of satellite imagery, the F-51's of Wilsonna will have its work cut out for them.

The coast of Wilsonna was slowly becoming the next atlantic wall, no turning back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back at the Keep..

From the his study, Prince Jakz sat with his head buried in the palms, the idea of this blasphamy burning his mind. With a jolt of anger he picked up the direct line to Cravan.

"I'm getting to the meaning of this.."

Darkness overcame the Emperor's office, the only light source being the computer monitor turned down low. The hum of the processor was the only sound, and outside a city which never slept had been slowed tremendously by yet another Cravna snowstorm.

A red light on his phone began to flash softly, and a low electronic ringing overcame the silence of this night. He flicked a switch, bringing himself into a speaker phone conversation with communications officials located somewhere in the Department of Foreign Affairs building down the street.

"Craven here."
"Evening, sir. I trust I'm not interrupting you?"
"I'm never interrupted by the red light. The red light means shit is going down.", he replied, beginning to jot down his signature on various documents requiring his approval. "What's up?"

The man on the other end of the line cleared his throat, and sighed softly.

"Sir, the Wilsonnans attempted to contact us a few minutes ago. I gave them a short message stating that we did not have that information at this point in time and we'd contact the Department of the Military. Well the DoM isn't answering their phone. What should I tell them?"
"Tell them nothing. Vince is making a public statement in the morning. Something he isn't very happy about, but he's doing it anyway. Until that time word of the situation in Wilsonna is to remain classified to the highest levels. Not even the analysts at IDI know about this op. I want to keep it that way for now."
"Understood, sir. Have a good night."
"You too. And stay safe. This winter weather is dangerous."

There was a click, and the line died. The Emperor returned to his work, knowing full well that if word of this got out, there would be a scandal of a magnitude unimaginable to many in the Libertarian Empire's government.

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

Over Wilsonnan Territorial Waters
Razgriz Bay, Golden Triangle
21:00 Hours

"I have multiple bogies at twelve, two, and eight, all of them headed to our current position!"
"Stay on course, Bandits. Do not fire until my order."
"Copy that, Lead."
"Hey, 'Dunderhead.' Sitrep on incoming craft?"

The AWACS operators shrugged off their new pet name, instead keeping to standard protocol for this situation.

"Inbound contacts are painted red, confirmed hostile. Engage at your own discretion."
"Hear that boys and girls? We have bandits inbound."

This made one of the more naive pilots in the group, Airman First Class Hernando Diego, feel his stomach drop as he tightened his grip on the stick. This was his first combat experience, having never flown on a sortie before and most certainly never been in a furball before. Most of his squadron had seen battle before, namely in British Londinium and Desanna, which could be plainly seen by the planes painted so elegantly on the stretch of fuselage under their cockpit canopies. Diego hoped to also gain a few kills here; to finally say he had seen combat, survived, and taken a few out while there; but as always he was unsure of his abilities just as he had been in training. He sank into his seat a bit, easing off on the stick as the color drained from his face. He could feel the beads of sweat running down his hands, squeezed between his skin and his gloves.

Alright, Hernie, get a hold of yourself... You'll be fine. You might even get a fuckin' medal out of the deal. Just stay focused., he thought to himself. His thoughts were interrupted, though, by the yells of his squadron mates as the battle began.

"Visual contact on bandits, twelve o'clock!"
"Weapons free, guys, weapons free.", Diego heard Redwing say in his headset. He quickly gained a hold of his surroundings, and his instincts kicked in. His life was in his and his comrades' hands now.

"Fox two, fox two.", he heard as he watched two smoke trails fly off from one of his wingmen, their contrails twisting and turning in the night sky and their rocket engines lighting the way as they homed in on their targets. A similar sight was seen as others followed suit, a chorus of "Fox Twos" ringing through his ears. Soon enough the familiar tone of a missile lock flooded his headset, and his targetting indicator flashed red. Two missiles dropped from the exterior pylons of his Banshee, twisting about each other as they screamed towards their target.

"We have to keep these skies clear for the second wave to come through. They're the bombers, and we can't afford to lose any of them before they drop their payloads.", Commander Feldson ordered as she twisted back into formation.

The furball had begun, and it would lead to possibly the biggest mistake of the Libertarian Empire yet.