NationStates Jolt Archive

(All OOC discussion and reference can be found on the OOC thread http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=526573)

Prologue: The Precepice

Two years had passed since Tony Harrington, leading the Statist Conservatives, ousted William MacKenzie as President of Trivalvia. Harrington, operating on a policy of "Trivalvia Only", pulled the country out of the very alliance it had helped to form, the NEA.

From outside, Trivalvia appeared content in its new isolation. The major stations broadcast government bulletins outlining investigations into "foreign influence" in its energy and defense sectors. Talk shows ran feel-good episodes where citizens voiced their support for the new President.

From within, a different, darker picture emerged. New laws sought to cripple Trivalvia's nascent methanol industry. Defense spending was "reallocated" - airbases fell into disrepair, the navy shrank as ships were decommissioned or sunk. Key figures in government and the military fell ominously silent - or were silenced should they protest.

In coffee shops and on web forums, frightened rumours emerged. Harrington was weakening the country, they said, paving the way for an invasion. Others hinted at a new dictatorship, or of forced partitioning of the country. The public felt a need to do something - anything to stop the erosion of the great nation they once were. Yet, they were scattered, disorganized. They needed someone to rally around.

That someone was William MacKenzie, who had not been idle after his defeat. He had kept in touch with contacts in the Legislature, and when many of the smaller opposition parties began to discuss how to deal with Harrington, they called upon William MacKenzie and his experience to aid them. MacKenzie forged the parties together into a new opposition - the Progressive Democratic Federal party. Bouyed by growing public support, he took the fight to the Legislature floor, calling for a Vote of No Confidence.

Harrington lost the Vote, and in keeping with the Constitution, was asked to dissolve the government and call an election. What he actually did, would shake Trivalvia to its very core...

Government Park, Trivalviapolis
May 15, 2009
3:15 PM local time

The cries of "Elections now!" could be heard throughout this part of Trivalviapolis. Hundreds of citizens filled the park, all facing the Legislature building, all demanding change.

Soldiers and riot police lined three sides of the park. They held their weapons at the ready... but kept their distance. Most had helmets with visors... but unlike the stereotype stormtrooper of B-movie fame, these visors allowed you to see the face behind them. An astute observer would notice the mixture of confusion and unease that marked most of those faces.

General Mark Wellington was one such observer. He stood outside the MT-LB armoured personnel carrier he was using as his command post and scanned the scene with a pair of binoculars. The unease on his soldiers' faces worried him... if he had to give the order to fire, would they obey?

For that matter, would he?

He put down the binoculars and re-entered the APC. Inside, the commanding officer of Company C, a major whose name Wellington had forgotten, was busy coordinating with the other companies of the 5th Infantry Battalion as they spread through the city. The major stood and saluted Wellington, then returned to his task.

Wellington absently returned the salute, his attention once more on the screen where the orders that had brought him here were still displayed:

ENCRYPTION KEY MAUVE-607-SIERRA
TO: All Ground Armed Forces
FROM: Office of the President

Effective 1500 hours, 15-05-2009, the Democratic Republic of Trivalvia is under a state of MARTIAL LAW. Ground forces are to deploy in all major cities, and all air and sea assets are to be placed on standby alert. Force commanders will coordinate with local law enforcement for efficient deployment and control. Detailed instructions follow...

Another screen, monitored by a nervous corporal (as evidenced by her chewing on her thumbnail), displayed a live broadcast from within the Legislature building. Tony Harrington was addressing the nation:

"...let me assure all citizens that there will be no disruption of your daily lives. This state of emergency exists to protect you. We have been betrayed, fellow Trivalvians, betrayed at every level of government, industry, and society. I ask that you obey the emergency directives as they are issued, and report all those who do not, and this crisis will be over sooner, rather than later..."

"Turn that off, Corporal," Wellington said. The corporal did as she was told, stammering an apology. Wellington patted her on the shoulder. "Take it easy. You're doing fine."

"Y-yes, sir." The corporal looked anything but 'fine'. "I just can't believe this is happening."

"I know," Wellington said, softly. He looked around the interior of the vehicle, taking in once more the nervous faces. They expected to fight defending their country against an invader. They didn't sign on to face their own people. He raised his voice, "But we have a job to do. We were trained for this, and we'll carry out our duties with..." his voice caught on the last word "...honour."

Despite his pause, his people seemed to find their resolve. They returned to their duties.

A buzz sounded from Wellington's military-grade minder. He unclipped the little device - similar in so many ways to the Blackberries that once dominated business - and activated its phone function. "General Wellington."

"Colonel Pelletier, sir. I'm pleased to report that we have achieved successful deployment throughout much of the mainland. Troops are in place in New Moncton, Sussex, Elwood City, and Vale. Local law enforcement is cooperating effectively."

Wellington grimaced at Pelletier's eager tone of voice. "Thank you, Colonel. What about the islands?"

"We have far fewer troops in place on Bivalve Island, and none in Isle d'Monovalve or the lesser islands. I have ordered 8th and 9th Battalions to deploy on Isle d'Monovalve and 16th and 18th Mechanized Battalions to deploy on Bivalve Island.

"Sir, we do have tank forces present on both islands. Do you want me to order their deployment?"

Good lord, Wellington thought. "Negative, Colonel. Keep the tanks at base for now."

"Sir, if there is an insurrectionist movement, not mobilizing the tanks could -"

"Keep the tanks where they are, Colonel. That's an order."

Pelletier acknowledged the order - a little reluctantly, Wellington thought - and closed the connection. Wellington replaced his minder on its clip, and rubbed his forehead, as if to pre-emptively banish the headache he was sure to have before this day was out.

"Um, sir?" Wellington looked up and faced the major. "There's someone here to see you."

"Someone here? I thought we had a perimeter, Major... Gillis." Wellington said, reading the other's nametag.

"Yes sir, but-"

"-But I'm sure you'll make an exception, Mark," said a familiar voice from outside the APC.

Wellington looked outside... and almost banged his head on the APC's ceiling as he stood up straight. "Mr. Preside... er..." His right hand twitched, as if wanting to salute.

"I haven't been called that in a while," said William MacKenzie with a grin. "But since I don't have an official title anymore, you can call me 'Bill'." He gestured to the woman beside him. "I'm sure you remember Samantha."

Wellington nodded to Samantha... then stopped, remembering where he was. "I gather my men just let you through the perimeter," he said.

"Don't blame them, Mark. I confess I did catch them a little off-guard."

"I can imagine," Wellington said, remembering his own reaction. Bill - MacKenzie, he corrected himself - had been more than his former President; he'd been a good friend. "Shall we get down to the heart of the matter? You seem to hold a fair bit of sway over the crowd out there; you can get them to disperse."

When MacKenzie didn't say anything, Wellington stepped closer. "Mr. MacKenzie... Bill... I don't want to have to arrest you."

"I know. But I can't do what you ask." MacKenzie paused. "It's an illegal order, Mark. Harrington doesn't have the authority to declare Martial Law."

"Doesn't have the auth- Look, like it or not, Harrington is the President--"

"A President of a dissolved government. Samantha?"

Samantha spoke up. "Article 17, section 3 of the constitution clearly states: Should a Vote of No Confidence pass, the government is officially dissolved. The President then has forty eight hours to comply with the vote and call an election, otherwise the Speaker of the Legislature may relieve the President of his or her duties."

MacKenzie added, "The vote was held this afternoon, Mark - it's all on record if you want to check it for yourself. But Harrington lost his authority once the vote passed.

"What are you going to do?"

Wellington glanced back at his staff; they'd heard everything. "Major Gillis, please get confirmation about today's vote."

Gillis turned to a console and patched into the Legislature Public Records. "Vote of No Confidence was held at 1432 hours," he said. "482 votes in favour, 130 votes against, 21 abstensions. Legislature adjourned 1448 hours." He stood up and faced the general. "It's confirmed, sir. The Vote passed - the government is officially dissolved."

Wellington nodded. "Thank you, Major." He felt sick, and a little stupid for not seeing it sooner. "Damn," he muttered. He looked back at MacKenzie. "I owe you an apology. I should have checked this before mobilizing."

"No harm done, so far," MacKenzie replied. "But I think you know what you have to do now."

"Yes, sir." Wellington unclipped his minder. "And thanks... maybe I'll be able to sleep soundly tonight." He keyed in the link to HQ. "Colonel Pelletier, this is General Wellington. Order our troops to stand down and return to base."

"Sir? The President's order-"

"-is rescinded. Check the constitution; we're breaking the law here. Get those troops back to base. Wellington out."

* * *

Colonel Pelletier stood in the command center at the Trivalvian Military HQ. He put down his minder, and looked around at the various staff.

Order our troops back? Disobey the President? Pelletier's mind reeled at the possibilities. Why would Wellington countermand a direct order from his Commander in Chief?

"...we have been betrayed at every level..."

Pelletier took a deep breath. His choice was clear.

"May I have everyone's attention?" All staff stopped and looked at the Colonel. "As of this moment, 1515 hours, May 9, 2009, I am relieving General Mark Wellington of command. Wellington has disobeyed a direct order from the President and defied the legal government of this country.

"Continue troop deployment, and mobilize our tank forces. That is all."

Prime Minister's Office, National Assembly Building, Sandya

"...local sources are telling us that martial law is being enforced even as we speak. Trivalvian forces have been deployed across the mainland, acting presumably on President Harrington's authority. The Statist Conservative president took over from popular leader William MacKenzie, who was instrumental in forming the Nova Europan Alliance of which Naasha is still a part of today, and has been pursuing isolationist policies for two years. We will strive to bring you video coverage of the situation as soon as..."

Darren Renner muted the news feed which was running near constantly on the flat panel screen on the wall across from his desk. Turning to face his advisors again, the Prime Minister addressed a pale, dark suited man. "Is this all we know? You surely aren't saying that N1's news desk knows as much as we do on the situation? I mean, it's not like Trivalvia is even that far away."

"We have satellite coverage, sir," the nameless operative corrected him, "but no field agents, Trivalvia wasn't deemed worth it after they pulled out from the NEA. They weren't a threat and their isolationist policies meant we were high risk for getting caught."

"I see, and the satellites confirm what we've been hearing I take it?"

"Yes sir, and we've spotted tank units as well. We hope to get agents into Trivalvia as soon as possible and I believe N1 is trying to get a news crew in also."

Samuel Denhy, the Minister for Foreign Affairs, had been watching the muted television but now he spoke. "Harrington isn't the most popular leader, it could be that someone is trying to oust him. He's addressed the nation and has said that they've 'been betrayed at every level', whatever that means. A shame that whatever it was doesn't seem to have succeeded, we might have had some nicer neighbours."

PRESIDENT'S OFFICE, KENSINGTON HALL, AUSTON, ANTIGR

President Harold Franklin Pierce IX stared out of the window of his office, the warm surroundings not being the perfect match for his mood.
The developments in Trivalvia had been getting worse by the second.
Now, he was waiting for a messenger to come in with some very bad news.
The President sighed deeply and backed away from the window, the expression on his face in a permanent frown.
"Jesus, Harry. Calm yourself. What are ya gonna do, hide from it all like a coward?" He said to himself, urging himself onward, trying to cope.
The frown began to soften, but this was not to last long.
A siren could be heard in the distance, getting oh-so-rapidly closer.
This could only be the messenger with bad news.
Then, on entrance to the lane into the courtyard about a kilometre away, a blue flashing light began to cast beams onto the green lawn.
A silver BMW 335i sped into the compound, a light attached to it's roof and concealed light in the radiator grille blaring.
"Shit"

A minute later, the messenger burst into the room, dressed in military gear and a Sabre II assault rifle slung over his shoulder.
"Sir" he said, panting for breath "Military base, down at...Druna Skass...told me...give you this..."
He had to stop to catch his breath before handing the President the note with details as to what the most recent developments were.
The president calmly strolled over to his desk before wrenching a draw open and squeezing a Stress Ball.
"Ok, er...Sergeant" The President said a few minutes later. "Code Blue. Mobilise forces as soon as we get some designated Trivalvian airfields. Oh, and send the War correspondent from the RTNA over. We could do with some updated on the telly for a change"

Wellington had just finished briefing the 5th Battalion's command staff when the bad news hit.

"Sir?" Major Gillis said once Wellington closed the communications link. "We have a call from HQ. One of the staff needs to speak to you, urgent."

"One of the staff?" Wellington raised his eyebrows. "Put it through to my minder."

Gillis touched a few controls at his console. Wellington picked up his minder and opened the link. "General Wellington."

"Thank God I got through to you, sir. Everything is crazy over here--"

"Hold on, soldier. What's your name?"

"Lieutenant Marrow, sir; Comm and Tracking section. Sir, the Colonel's gone nuts. He just ordered tanks into the cities."

Wellington processed that for a second. "Can you get Colonel Pelletier on the line, please, Lieutenant?"

"Begging your pardon, sir, I can't. Pelletier's in his office, talking to the President right now, and he's got MPs watching people in the command center. I'm using my minder in the lavatory to reach you."

"What about my order to stand down all forces?" Outside, MacKenzie and Samantha, returning from giving a brief address to the crowd, looked into the command APC with concern.

"Sir? What order? What's going on?"

"I gave an order to-" And then it hit him.

Pelletier was one of the newer officers, the ones appointed by Harrington's "defense oversight committee". The man had seemed far too eager to carry out the Martial Law order... almost as if...

As if he'd been selected for the role.

Damn it!

"What's wrong, Mark?" MacKenzie asked, seeing Wellington's ashen expression.

Wellington waved a hand to shush MacKenzie, and spoke to Major Gillis. "Get a link into SATCOM and check the positions of our tank forces. Also, I want an open channel to all base, regiment, battalion, battlegroup, and air squadron commanders ASAP." When Gillis saluted and turned back to his console, Wellington returned his attention to the minder. "Lieutenant Marrow, are you still there?"

"Yes sir, but I have to get back. They'll get suspicious."

"You did the right thing, soldier. Whatever Pelletier says, he's operating outside legal authority, though I doubt that's going to matter too much to him right now.

"For now, keep your head down in there. Don't attract attention until we have a clearer picture of what's going on. Contact me again if it's safe."

"Yes sir." The link went dead.

Major Gillis spoke up. "Sir, I have a full mobilization of our tank forces all across the country. The nearest tank regiment is the 2nd Armoured Regiment; they're headed right for Trivalviapolis. ETA 2 hours."

"Thank you, Major."

"Mark?" Mackenzie wasn't going to be silenced this time.

"We have a problem, Bill. My right hand man back at HQ is working for Harrington; I can't guarantee full control of our forces right now."

Prime Minister's Office, National Assembly Building, Sandya

N1 was showing archived pictures and slides of Trivalvian cities, soldiers and tanks now, clearly the lack of hard news meant that a visual aid was also required to hold the viewer's interest. Darren Renner wasn't watching anyway, he was engrossed in a video call with the Minister for Defence.

The red-faced General Farren was gesturing wildly as he spoke, clearly excited at the idea of getting to flex Naasha's military muscle. Fortunately, the Prime Minister wasn't as eager.

"Like I said Jonathan, I want the Stargazers fueled and on standby. I don't want them in the air and I don't want them armed with nuclear weapons for Empress' sake!"

The Minister looked chastened, "I just wanted to give you the option, sir..."

"And I have the military option, but we needn't be hasty. We don't even know exactly what's happening over there yet. What carrier group do we have active at the moment?"

"Admiral Grant's Sixth, but his lot are Surdunni, the Third is on standby."

Renner opened his mouth to ask what difference it made if the crew were Surdunni, but thought better of it, he had more pressing work to do than explore the General's prejudices. "That will be fine, order the Sixth Carrier Group to head out into the Atlantic and take station west of Gibraltar."

Outside Trivalviapolis, Trivalvia

The ominous rumble of tanks was easy to hear now, the vibrations in the ground were causing the camera man's hands to shake, which was upsetting the producers back in Naasha, but there was little to be done about it. It had been a stroke of luck really, that N1, Naasha's national television network had been filming a documentary piece in The World Soviet Party before the Trivalvian situation kicked off. It had been easy enough to pack up the equipment and get into Trivalvia, and a tipoff from Naashan International Intelligence had led them here, to ambush a tank column.

The five man crew of course, were more used to ambushing celebrities and interviewees than tanks, but the principle had to be the same right? Lurk around until they pass, jump out and get some good footage as they go by, the kind of stuff that would be bouncing around on N1 - News 24 and maybe even CNN for days.

The technician checked the uplink feed once more and flashed a thumbs up to a blonde presenter, who had clearly done her best to look reasonably good on short notice.

"I'm Sandy Hughes reporting here in Trivalvia for N1, Naasha's only network with dedicated round the clock news and sport coverage. I'm stood just outside Trivalviapolis, Trivalvia's capital city, where martial law has been declared."

Raising her voice over the wind and the noise of approaching armour, she continued. The camera moved forward, ready to pan over her shoulder and onto the stretch of road they had chosen to film.

"I'm sure you can hear the rumbling behind me, it's even louder here believe me. That is the sound of Trivalvian tanks as they approach the capital, for what reason we still don't know. What we do know is-"

The camera pans away from the presenter and behind her, to where the first of the column is coming into view. Speaking into a handheld microphone now, she continues to narrate.

"There you can see the first of the tanks heading towards us now. A source inside Naashan Intelligence has exclusively told N1 that more tank columns are being deployed to major Trivalvian cities. This is a move that is sure to cause uproar in the Trivalvian political community, as President Harrington lost a vote of no confidence earlier today and should have stepped down, according to the country's constitution."

The camera man continues filming, stepping out onto the edge of the road now to get close up shots of the sides and front of the approaching armour.

Trivalviapolis, Trivalvia

The tanks were rumbling through the city streets now. Kerry could hear them, it wasn't like marshall law more like a revolution. She shhok her head for a moment before turning to the camara.

"As you can see the tanks have been deployed on the streets and know marshall law was in effect..."

District House, Illesia, Alversia

Deimone turned the television off. He had heard enough. There was never a need for tanks to placed on the street during marshall law, unless in extreme circumstances. Nevertheless, it seemed worth keeping an eye on...

St. James House, Clandonian Ministry for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs

Nova Europa had once been the main source of Clandonian aggravations in the world, since the decline of the NEA several years ago with the collapse of several states the Clandonians hadn't bothered to watch the affairs. The region was seen as a backwater area, few travelled there and trade opportunities were low. It was reported on the media of unrest in Trivalvia which had interested some of the older members of the government, those who had remembered the troubles. The profile of Tony Harrington suggested he may be a useful Clandonian ally, a useful one in the region with nations like The World Soviet Party along with other possible enemies. With the war in Vetaka drawing to a close the Foreign Office staff had been relieved of large amounts of paper work that an invasion would of caused. A black luxury car had pulled up, what looked like a government vehicle except with a personalised plate of CEI1. Out stepped the CEO of the Clandonian East India Company, greeted by the waiting Foreign Office Minister Sir Philips patiently waiting at reception.

"Ah good evening Mr Martin." Spoke the Minister extending his hand to the man.

"Sir Philips, always a pleasure to meet members of His Majesty's government."

"Come this way, we have business to talk about." Sir Philips stretched an arm out in the direction of his private office. Opening the door the minister made sure it was clear outside, even though it was twenty past eight in the evening the building could still have people working, it wasn't the done thing to invite private business consortium's into government buildings.

"Drink and a smoke?" Asked Sir Philips picking a bottle from the sideboard.

"Don't mind if I do, ice please." Replied Mr Martin.

Sir Philips poured the whiskey and open a box of Virgin Island cigars and placed a clean ash tray on the desk, the silver engraved dish stamped HMG indicating it was government property.

"I don't suppose you've heard of a nation called Trivalvia?" Asked the minister.

"Heard of it, don't know much about it. I was never very good at geography." Lighting his cigar with the gold lighter that he had been presented to by a wealthy foreign client after a deal.

"Your loyalty to the Crown has been exceptional in repayment we have given you deals and tax breaks. I ask again for an exciting business prospect your company and a chance to support King and Country."

"Go on, I'm intrigued now."

"In Trivalvia political troubles have arisen, the candidate that is in danger needs support. He is a conservative, a capitalist and in Nova Europa that's a good thing. Our plan is to offer support by providing support with shipments of equipment to the pro-Clandonian side. The other side of your business is well known. I don't care about what else you fly in as long as it doesn't hamper operations."

"Hmm, we would get paid for this?"

"Yes you will, and it will be a very good earner. Our experts say an operation could be established in two weeks flying out equipment on a new airline Imperial Clandonian Cargo has been registered as an air transport branch of your company. The details are here."

Passing over the dossier, marked HM Foreign and Commonwealth Office Restricted indicating its secrecy.

"Sir Philips for you anything is possible." Said the man smiling, offering a hand to shake he ministers.

"Oh please Mr Martin, it looks like I'm accepting a bribe!" The two men laughed before resuming talking about other non-related matters.


---

Official Clandonian Response

Secure Diplomatic Communique to the Trivalvian Government:

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v338/madnukedude/clandoniansmallflag.png


The Crown government expresses concern over the current situation, the economic decline and the collapse of social order in Trivalvia. Although we cannot provide large scale military deployment we can supply emergency financial and equipment aid to the Harrington Administration. We see your government as an ally in the fight against the spread of Marxism from nations within your region, a situation like this is ideal breeding grounds for Bolshevik revolution. We can provide support within four eight hours should it be requested.


God Save the King



Minister for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs, Sir Alan Philips

Official Diplomatic Communique to Trivalvian Government

Greetings from the Reformed Democratic State of Naasha.

My government has asked me to convey our concern over the current situation in Trivalvia, especially over intelligence which shows the deployment of Trivalvian tanks in some of your cities. Our intelligence officials are also telling us that a vote of no confidence was passed in Trivalvia and that the government is due to be dissolved.

Could you please clarify the situation for us? As one of your Nova Europan neighbours we are very keen to help rectify things in Trivalvia however we can.

Yours faithfully,
Samuel Denhy,
Minister of Foreign Affairs.

SIC:

Diplomatic Communique

http://img451.imageshack.us/img451/307/officialsealtwspxk5.gif
To: President Mackenzie
From: President Aszenmil

It's been a while since we last had a conversation my good friend, but it's good to see you are back in action. It relieves us to see there's still someone willing to stand up for freedom in this crazy world of ours.
Anyways, lets cut to the chase, shall we? I've been informed that you could use some aid in your struggle against Harrington and his Clandonian Thugs, so, whatever you need, men, equipment, supplies, money, anything, just tell us and we'll do our best to help you.

Signed,
Alejandro Aszenmil, President of The World Soviet Party.

Vetalian Syncrude building, Trivalviapolis

"...let me assure all citizens that there will be no disruption of your daily lives. This state of emergency exists to protect you. We have been betrayed, fellow Trivalvians, betrayed at every level of government, industry, and society. I ask that you obey the emergency directives as they are issued, and report all those who do not, and this crisis will be over sooner, rather than later..."

Ivan Serov turned off the TV in disgust. The rest of the board looked nervously around at one another, not knowing how to respond, waiting for Ivan to say something. Pausing for a moment to cool his anger, he spoke.

"Well, it looks like the son of a bitch finally did it. I knew he wasn't going to go quietly...they never do...and now we've got ourselves a tinpot dictator on our hands who has no problem stealing whatever he feels like in the name of 'isolationism' or whatever bullshit he's parroting these days. So, what do we do?"

Thanks to Harrington's policies, Syncrude's methanol sales had plunged by nearly 9% last year and were going to dive another 11% this year. The company was losing easily $120 million a day in Trivalvia thanks to the government's interference, and it was only a matter of time before it got worse. Methanol was staggeringly profitable, even more than syncrude, and the company had made money hand over fist when the market was opened up a decade ago...but not now.

"Well, Mr. Serov, we could appeal to the Vetalian embassy-"
"The government isn't going to do shit! They're more interested in rebuilding Hataria than they are in solving the problems of Trivalvia. You know full well that Chernomyrdin's a shareholder of Lukov Oil, and they don't operate here, so it doesn't mean a damn thing if the country goes under."

"We could contact Griffincrest...they might give us a hand. Gods only know we've still got the cash on hand to do it."
"Nope. Griffincrest is either going to be busy with their own problems or helping our friends over at VNN with their native problem."

"Well, then what are we going to do? Call the Organizatsiya?" One of the board members said, half serious and half joking. Ivan, however, was not joking.

"We could do it. They've long since moved up to bigger and better things than assassination or extortion. Mainly mercenary work, bribery, and white-collar crime. Government targets are a specialty. Perfect for what we'll need, but it would be dangerous."

"But sir, if we're caught-"
"We pay a fine and get a slap on the wrist. Syncrude's been bribing Harrington's legal system as long as they've been in power to prepare for this very situation. Hell, we've got some of these guys so good they'd let us get away with murder." He smiled after that last remark.

"Before I continue, I want all of you to know that there's no turning back. You turn on me or the Organizatsiya and you're a dead man...I'm not fucking around any more. So, if anyone wants to get out, say it now. You'll still keep your position and your salary, but you're going away on paid vacation for a while, so to speak. I'm not going to look down on you for this, because I'd rather have an honest man get out now and stay clean than break down later and put the whole thing in jeopardy."

A few of the board members got up and packed their things in to portfolios and briefcases. They filed out the door, not saying a word. Ivan noted who they were and briefly sent a message to his staff. By the end of the week, these men and women would be moved out and on their way back to Vetalia for an extended vacation. "Alright. I think we've said enough for now. All of you, go home and think it over, and then show up tomorrow, same time. If you don't show up, you'll still be able to get out like the ones that left today, but after tomorrow's meeting the only way out is going to be through a pine box."

Legislature Building,
President's Office
3:20 PM local time, May 15, 2009

Tony Harrington fumed as he looked out across Government Park from his office window. He had hoped for the soldiers to have cleared away the rabble from the park long before now, but instead they did nothing. They had even holstered their weapons and sent away the local police!

When this is over, I'm going to roast Wellington on a spit.

Couldn't they see where this was headed? MacKenzie - that socialist do-gooder! - was behind this move, seeking to worm his way back into power, and leave this country open to any foreign nation with a sob-story.

Trivalvia needed a strong leader, one willing to make the hard choices and stick with them. And if the public disagreed, to hell with them - they can't see the big picture.

The phone on his desk rang. Harrington picked it up. "Yes?"

"Mr. President, this is Colonel Pelletier, TAF HQ."

Pelletier - yes, one of the recent appointments by the Defense Oversight Committee. A good man... or so he hoped. "Yes, Colonel, I trust you will explain to me why the troops here in the city are not doing anything to restore order?"

"Yes sir. I'm afraid I must report that General Wellington has sided with the Insurrectionists. I have assumed command and I have called for reinforcements before he can become entrenched."

Harrington sat down, careful to keep away from the window. "I see," he said carefully. "Very good... General Pelletier. I will put your promotion in writing immediately. I trust you will put down this revolt in a timely fashion."

"Yes sir. Thank you, Mr. President."

Harrington hung up. At least there was some good news for the day.

The door opened and an aide came in. "Sir, I have a couple of communiques from foriegn governments." He handed over a couple of printed pages.

"Already?" Harrington had not sent any official announcements to other governments. He read over the first, from the Clandonian government. "Hm. A show of support. Please take down this message: Thank you for your concern and support. We have matters well in hand and order will be restored shortly, however we will keep your offer of assistance under advisement. Signed, President Anthony Harrington. Send that, please."

The aide had been writing furiously. "Yes sir. And the second communique, from Naasha?"

Harrington read over the paper in question, his face growing red with fury. "The government is dissolved!? I thought the vote was kept secret! How did they find out?"

"Sir, all legistlature votes are a matter of public record. TBC and N1 are both reporting this."

"They are, are they? Send this to the Naashans. Thank you for your concern, however you have been misinformed. All reports of a 'vote of no confidence' have been manufactured by a faction seeking to sieze power. This government is doing all it can to insure that anarchy and tyranny do not gain the upper hand.

Further, for their own safety, any Naashan journalists are advised to remain in the Naashan embassy. This government will keep them informed of events, and will grant an interview shortly. Send that and mark it urgent."

"Yes sir." The aide left, and Harrington, taking a few breaths to calm himself down, punched a number into his phone. "General Pelletier? This is the President. I have just been informed that TBC has been broadcasting insurrectionist propoganda. I need you to secure their central studio immediately."

The Democratic Republic of Alversia
A Diplomatic Memo from the Foreign Office

To: President Harrington

The Democratic Republic of Alversia is deeply concerned by the rapid and overpowering deployment of heavy armour and weapons. We are also concerned over you apparent disregard of a national constitiution. Our own newstations will be in the area. We hope that this issue can be resolved peacefully but if not then Alversian may have to intervene of behalf of the rightful government of Trivalvia

Nathan Deimone
Alversian Foreign Secratary
Illesia, Alversia
15/05/2009

Prime Minister's Office, National Assembly Building, Sandya

Renner read the Trivalvian response, frowning as he did so. As a general rule, the more dismissive a government became of a problem, the worse it got. There was probably truth in it too, the fact was that no one had taken much of an interest in Trivalvian politics up until now, so it was unclear who or what to trust.

He had a feeling though, somewhere in his gut, that this wasn't your average failed coup attempt. It reeked of something, he just couldn't fathom what yet. Still, the Trivalvians could advise all they wanted, he would pass their statement on to N1 who would undoubtedly ignore it's advice and publish it anyway.

He quickly typed up an email, no point in only listening to what the 'lawful' Trivalvian government had to say.

To: Naashan Intelligence Ministry; Press Ministry, NA Nova Europan affairs committee.

Please find attached the diplomatic response from Trivalvia.

N1 and other news stations are to be publicly advised not to travel to the country. Let them know of course, that we won't be stopping them if they do go.

I'm interested in what the other parties in Trivalvia have to say about things now, I would like Intelligence and the Nova Europa team to collaborate in order to set up a dialogue with opposition figures in the country.

Sincerely,
Darren Renner.

Official Diplomatic Response
Very well, our offer of support is still there, if you choose to accept it. We feel we have the best interests of the Trivalvian people at heart. We will be monitoring the situation as it develops and wish you the best of luck in solving the challenges facing your country at this time.

OOC - Alversia, in case you haven't already, I suggest you read the OOC thread about this RP (link found in the first post). Thank you for your interest in this RP.

I'll have one more post I want to put up tonight before I have to sign off.

Government Park,
3:40 Local Time

William MacKenzie, General Wellington, and Samantha were gathered in the Command APC, as Major Gillis announced. "Sirs - and ma'am - links with all available field and base commanders are ready."

MacKenzie nodded to Wellington. "It's your show, Mark. I'll speak only if necessary."

"Thanks." Wellington pushed a button - the conference call was now open. "Everyone: by now you have heard about the change in command at HQ. Colonel Pelletier has decided to support Harrington and continue with the order of Martial Law. He has probably called me a traitor or a collaborator.

"I can understand your reluctance to get involved in what may turn out to be a civil war. Yet, you need to understand a few facts.

"Right now, Tony Harrington is operating without legal authority. Don't take my word for it - check the public record on today's Legislature votes as well as our Constitution. It's all there in black and white. The order he issued for a military presence in the cities was given after his government was technically dissolved.

"What this means is that any of our forces that continue to obey this order are disobeying the Constitution of this country, which we were sworn to defend with the same fervor as we are to defend Trivalvia itself. By attempting to sieze command, Colonel Pelletier has not only broken military law, he has betrayed this country. Don't be dragged down with him."

Silence from the speaker. Major Gillis, at a nearby console, frowned. "Trivalviapolis GFB and AFB have just cut contact," he whispered. "I've also lost signals from several ground forces."

Wellington grimaced; not the result he expected. "Are they still listening to us?"

Gillis shrugged. "Hard to tell, sir."

MacKenzie coughed. "If I may, General?" Wellington noted the emphasis applied to the title. He nodded and stepped back.

"Ladies and gentleman, I am William MacKenzie. You all knew me as our previous President, and no doubt know of my current role as civilian leader of this movement.

"This is more than a turf-war between leaders of both civilian and military parts of Trivalvia, but a struggle for this country's very future. A struggle that you especially control.

"Harrington has already demonstrated his willingness to go beyond the law, and we have provided testimony demonstrating the lack of authority that he has. I should not have to stress that Harrington has made himself a de-facto dictator. But any dictator rules only through the willingness of the people and the army to let him rule. Since the demonstrations here and elsewhere prove that Harrington has lost the support of the people, that leaves the army. You.

"You have it in your power to end this struggle, to speak with your actions with one voice. Stand with us, or stay neutral, but either way you can stop Harrington's grab for absolute power simply by saying no. If you all act together, we can end this without firing a single shot against our fellow citizens and soldiers.

"If any of you are harbouring concerns about my own motives, let me state that I am not seeking to take power. Rather, we will put it to the people, in an internationally-monitored election, to determine who should run this country. My concern is that the people be given that election, more than anything else.

"That's all I have to say. May God grant you His wisdom, whatever choice you make."

No response from the speaker. Someone tapped Samantha on the shoulder and she left the APC. Gillis frowned again. "There's a lot of radio activity between the various commanders - including those who broke contact. I'm not sure..."

Samantha re-entered the APC. "Sir? You'd better take a look at TBC right now."

Wellington nodded to Gillis, who punched up the TV feed on one of the monitors. There, David Mansbridge, "Trivalvia's most Trusted News Anchor," was speaking:

"So far reports are sketchy, but it appears that tanks have entered several major cities. President Harrington has advised citizens to stay indoors and--"

"Sorry, we have to cut in," said a new voice. A woman carrying a microphone came into view, standing next to Mansbridge. "We've just recieved word that demonstrators in Sussex have come under fire from riot police and infantry. People on the scene are reporting at least fourteen dead, and that the weapons fire was unprovoked.

"In addition, we've recieved bulletins from the provincial governments in Bivalve Island and Isle d'Monovalve, stating they will not comply with the Martial Law order and are calling on Harrington to step down."

"Alice, don't do this," Mansbridge said, concern evident on his face.

"Alice" ignored him. "We've been asked not to broadcast this information, but we have to go with this now, because I'm not sure how long we can stay on the air. Soldiers are approaching the TBC studios here in Trivalviapolis - we're trying to get camera crews in position to catch them on film. There's gunfire..." Rifle fire could be heard in the background.

Alice's face grew urgent, as if every second counted. "Listen to me! There have been things happening over the past two years that we have not been allowed to tell you! We have evidence of possible foreign interference with Har--" An explosion occurred offstage, and automatic rifle fire filled the air. "Ohmigod! Down! Everyone down!" The camera tilted suddenly, crashing to the floor, the lens suddenly splattered with red.

The screen went dead.

MacKenzie slumped into a seat, and Samantha held her hands to her mouth, tears brimming in her eyes. Wellington, however, stood frozen with rage.

The speaker crackled to life.

"General Wellington, this is Colonel Vaughn, Bivalviaton AFB. I've been asked by most of the other field commanders to give this message:

"We're ready to support you. What are your orders?"

OOC: exact numbers will be given later, but just to say that it is an almost even split of the military. And a cookie for those who recognize the inspiration for the TBC scene.

Prime Minister's Office, National Assembly Building, Sandya

The recorded news feed from TBC had been run over and over again on N1 and on most other agencies across the region. It appeared that things had taken a turn for the worse in Trivalvia, N1's own news teams had managed to get footage of the scene of the shootings in Sussex and were still discreetly filming the aftermath.

International Intelligence had reported what details they had to Renner shortly before the broadcast was replayed across the nation, William MacKenzie was the name on people's lips. The once prominent president of Trivalvia had rallied the opposition parties and even now might be at the nucleus of an insurrection. A member of the Nova Europan committee had offered to try and get in touch with the man who had himself been at the heart of the organisation at it's beginning.

They were trying his email and phone lines, although whether or not it would be that easy to get in contact with MacKenzie was in the hands of fate now.

Deimone frowned and turned the television off. He had been relying on Trivalvian newstations since the Alversian news crews weren't in position yet. "So" he said to his aide who was standing near "Trivalvia stands on the brink of civil war. It seems intervention will be more important now than ever" His aide took a step forward "Sir, shall I contact the Army?" Deimone shook his head "inform them that we may need some of their transport capability, but other than that, no. This is not our war. There is no need to oush the country into a war it doesn't need to" His Aide nodded and left the room. Deimone turned in his chair to look out the windows at the magnificent Senate gardens in Illesia, "let's see where this conflict goes" he said to himself

OOC: Sorry about the late response. I had a class.

The meeting began as planned. Ivan Serov along with the remaining board members entered the room and waited for their guests to arrive. Shortly thereafter, a secretary opened the door and showed in three men dressed in tailored, black and blue suits. They sat down, not saying a word.

"Greetings, gentlemen. I hope we can-"
"Spare me your pleasantries, Mr. Serov. We are here to do business."
"Yes, very well. We need your organization to help the rebels overthrow Harrington. He's gone too far and we need to stop him."
"It could be done."

Realizing what they wanted, he pulled two briefcases out from underneath the table and opened them. Inside, 100-Solaris bills were neatly wrapped and placed in the case. "That's $30 million upfront for your services. We'll pay more after you complete the job."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Serov, but we will need more. There are...externalities...we will have to take care of."

Serov said nothing, but lifted another briefcase from under the desk. "$45 million." "We're sorry, but we must be go-" "$100 million." Serov stared blankly. The three men paused, reaching out for the briefcases. "We will...consider your offer. Good day."

They took them and walked out, not saying a word.

"Well?" One of the board members asked. "We've got a deal." Serov said plainly, and another smile crossed his face.

Will I ever get the details on the airfields i intended to land on 3 days ago?

A stockyard somewhere in Trivalvia, early evening. The facility was a supply and distrubution center for Vetalian Syncrude's methanol plants, with most of it a tangle of pipes and warehouses holding thousands of barrels of methanol for transport out of the country and large quantities of coal, wood, and other products for conversion in to methanol. A single car, an Anza 625 with the Vetalian Syncrude logo, pulled up to the security gate and was cleared for entry. They drove quietly through the facility, arriving at the depot where trains would be loaded with methanol for transport.

"This is the depot where we most of the methanol from plants near Trivalvapolis is shipped out. We usually run about 50,000 barrels per day out of this facility and bring in enough feedstock for another 100,000. We could easily bring in a good 100 to 200 tons of supplies a day without raising any suspicion."

"Yes, supplies. Once we have spoken with MacKenzie's men, we will begin transporting what is needed to protect your company's interests. Payment will be made at this time."

"Good. We'll cut our runs at the facility so that we have room to fit your equipment inside the coal cars, and I'll have some of our trucks transport the material to one of our refineries outside the city. From there, just give us the word and we'll make a 'methanol delivery' to the site MacKenzie's men have picked."

"Have you taken care of all of the externalities?"
"Yes, we've made sure that there's no trace on these shipments. It cost a little more, but we purchased the coal on the open market and nobody can trace it back to Vetalia."
"What about the workers?"
"Your men have been put in place to work on this shift. Nobody working at that time is outside of your organization."
"Good. We've already provided our men with the documentation necessary for them to operate without suspicion. I hope you have the...emergency funds...with you?
"Yes, they're right here." Serov reached for another briefcase from the back. "$1 million. Enough to pay off anyone you encounter."
"Good."

Another car pulled up, with identical VS logo and another driver. "We are finished for now, Mr. Serov. Now we are going to wait to hear from MacKenzie. I hear he's in a bit of a bind." The last remark was rather cryptic, but Serov shrugged it off. Most of these guys were like that.

"We've confirmed 21 infantry battalions and 12 tank regiments having signed on with us," Major Gillis said. "That's including all of the tank regiments stationed on Bivalve Island and Isle d'Monovalve. However...

"The tanks entering Trivalvia now are still under Pelletier's command. They're not responding to our calls to stand down."

Wellington frowned at the news. "Where are our nearest allied forces?"

"The 31st Mechanized Infantry is here -" a tap on a spot on the map "-at least three hours away."

MacKenzie watched as General Wellington consulted a map of the city. Icons glowed showing positions of infantry and tanks - the bulk of the tanks and some infantry groupings now showing red.

"Sir?" MacKenzie turned to see Samantha. Behind her were some of the senior members of the demonstrators still milling about in Government Park. The news of the TBC attack and the violence at Sussex had hit them hard, but they hadn't broken and fled.

He wondered if they would still show that resolve when the tanks arrived.

"Mr. MacKenzie," said one of the demonstrators, "We think you had better get out of the city. If Harrington orders those tanks to fire--"

MacKenzie shook his head. "I can't just leave you like this."

"We can't afford you to be killed. You're too important to the movement," said the second demonstrator.

Wellington had left the map and approached MacKenzie. "He's right, Bill. Also, with the forces I've got in the city, there's no way we can win against tanks. At the very least it will turn this city into a battlefield."

"We can take care of ourselves. This isn't over by a long shot," said a third demonstrator.

MacKenzie looked around at the demonstrators. After a moment he nodded. "All right. General Wellington, what do you recommend?"

"Much as I'd hate to surrender the capital, our only course is to get allied troops out of the city. Right now Harrington has control of half of our forces, most of them on the mainland. Any battle we fight here could push things one way or the other... and if we lose even a company, Harrington will have an edge. He might use that edge to go on the offensive."

"So we leave the city to him and entrench elsewhere. Offer a stalemate?"

"For now. We might need help breaking it - but so will Harrington. If he keeps the city, he might wait longer before calling for help."

MacKenzie nodded. A plan was starting to form. "Okay. If my memory serves me right there are still a few consulates from NEA nations in Bivalviaton. We can go there and regroup. If we can get some international pressure on the diplomatic and economic fronts it might be enough for us to fight back."

Wellington nodded, and turned back to Major Gillis. "Pass the word on to our troops in the city - we're pulling out. Troops should regroup to..." he tapped a spot on the map. "Here. Designate that as point Bravo-Tau and set up camp."

"Yes sir. Begging your pardon, but I think you should go with MacKenzie to the islands."

Wellington nodded. "Okay."

A demonstrator spoke up. "We've got some people by the docks, and there's some international traffic there. You might be able to sneak aboard a boat and get passage. Meanwhile, we're organizing mobs to choke the street nearest the tanks - that should slow them down a bit."

"Don't try to fight the tanks," Wellington warned. "Harrington's already demonstrated a willingness to fire on civilians. Just keep them tied up for a bit, but if they try to run you over, don't be heroes."

MacKenzie turned to the demonstrators. "Thank you for your help. And you're right - this is not over. We'll be back."

The demonstrators turned back, some taking out their Orange-brand minders and sending messages. As MacKenzie turned back to enter the APC, he noticed a camera crew near the park.

OOC: Naasha, that's your cue if you want the camera crew to hook up with MacKenzie. Also, Antigr, or Naasha, if you guys have a civilian ship at the docks, sing out and we can use them.

Elsewhere...

IC:

In his office, Harrington too had come to some of the same conclusions as Wellington had. If this became a shooting war - and it wouldn't take much, what with that fracas at Sussex and the very public devastation at TBC - a war of attrition would be much too risky.

He frowned. Pelletier had not moved fast enough in taking command; almost half of the army was now in MacKenzie's hands. At least he still had most of the navy and air force, but...

Harrington needed an edge.

The communique from the United Kingdom of Clandonia caught his eye, with its offer of aid. Perhaps... but he would have to be careful. If it got out that he was asking for foreign backing...

Of course, it wouldn't be the first time, Harrington thought as he reached for his phone to dial a secure line to the Clandonian government. After all, there was the matter of all those "special funds" he got from interested parties that helped him win the election.

OOC again: aand that's your cue, CP.

Trivalviapolis

Although the Naashan government's attempts to get in touch with MacKenzie hadn't been as succesful as hoped, they had managed to get a tip that he may well be in the capital. Once again this information was leaked to N1, who had their camera crew on the lookout for him where he was most likely to be, at the heart of the trouble.

It was a stroke of luck really that they had spotted him just about to climb into the APC. Ignoring the protests of the Trivalvian soldiers, the five man team jogged over towards MacKenzie, calling his name. The panting field producer was the first to reach him.

"William MacKenzie? N1 News, from Naasha. Mind if we tag along? There's some great footage here and word is that Harrington is clamping down on your own media. I'm rather worried about our safety here."

The rest of the crew arrived a moment later, the blonde presenter shooting some of the Trivalvian soldiers a dirty look as they gave up the chase. The sound boom operator surveyed the seen, noting that things seemed to be breaking up a little.

"You guys leaving? I know there's a Naashan research vessel at the docks if you need a ride, I'm sure Fred can make some quick calls if you want to borrow it." He indicates the still panting, slightly overweight producer.

Airfields plz.....

OOC thread is linked in the very first post, what exactly are you doing anyway? Your original post is a little unclear, or maybe I just misread it.

Williamson had drawn his pistol at the sudden arrival of civilians, but MacKenzie waved him down.

"We are preparing to leave, yes," he said to the Naashans. "General, any way we can get these people to safety?"

Williamson, having reholstered his pistol, considered the problem.

"We'll be a little cramped if we used the one APC... Two of you can come with us in this one. There's a medical APC we'll get to follow us - the rest of you can use that one."

MacKenzie nodded. "Is that okay with you?"

St James. House, Clandonian Ministry for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs

Stepping out of the building Sir Alan Philips looked at the quiet city streets, the FA Cup Final was on with much of the population gathered around televisions, radios and computers to see and hear the progression of the match. Sir Philips had been watching the football with the few civil servants who were in on a Saturday. At half time the game being nil-nil he decided to leave the Ministry and head to his country mansion for the weekend. A message had just come through from the Vetakan Harrington government regarding the Clandonian offer of help, the situation had turned and the help had been accepting. Sir Philips flicking through his mobile phone book called up Mr Martin who was in the company box at the football match.

"Excellent Sir Philips, I will have it seen to right away."

As he ended the call he summoned his body guard, the instructions were relayed and within twenty minutes the planes were being loaded.


Kirkland Air Cargo Terminal Two, Northern Clandonia

The deserted cargo area of Kirkland International Airport was the perfect waiting area for a clandestine military operation. Two ITA-200 Sabre-S aircraft were being loaded with supplies. Boxes of DRS-83's DMR's, DMG-83 SAW's, DR-83.IIB's, DR-87's, DAC-97's, DAC.99's, DRS-84 Sniper Rifle's and ACU-41A Grenade Launchers. Enough guns to fight a nice little war, boxes of explosives and grenades in their new factory packaging. Rocket launchers, mines and mortars stacked up like a hardware show.

"How much stuff are you taking?" Asked one of the loaders talking to a man in a pinstriped business suite.

"This is only the beginning, we are going to flood the market with Doomi weaponry and do our bit for King and Country."

The two space planes could carry two hundred and thirty five tonnes of cargo each, in their new Imperial Clandonian Cargo colours they looked a fitting piece as part of the phoney company for the phoney operation. Boxes marked with RLC and RCAF Property were being loaded, serial marks indicating their contents of high grade radar and satellite equipment, military grade radios. What were obviously mercenaries were chatting to the pilots, having a smoke before the journey choosing to ignore the danger signs as ground crew fuelled the nuclear powered aircraft with the liquid hydrogen fuel. Parked up along the two departing aircraft were four ITA-200 Sabre-UC variants, fly by the wire technology allowing the aircraft to fly on its own.

"They will put us lot out of a job soon." Joked one of the pilots flicking a cigarette stub onto a metal box marked 'Danger Military Grade Explosives'.

"Too bloody right, they can fly faster, carry more cargo and don't do idiotic things!" Replied another, the men were laughing as they watched the last few minutes of the football on the TV. The team had been instructed by the company and the Crown government to set up up an operations centre in the dilapidated Trivalviapolis Cargo Terminal. More aircraft awaited along with the merchant ships in New Danskeran were more heavier pieces of hardware like artillery pieces, armoured personal carriers, anti-shipping missiles and even the odd fighter aircraft. All new military grade hardware, fresh from the factory and marked as 'Official Export Only' despite being in Clandonian military colours. At 17.37 CMT the aircraft were ready, fuelled for the trip and with the baggage safely stowed the pilots and passengers who were setting up the little venture climbed aboard and were in the air on a pre-reserved take off slot by 18.05 CMT.

The plane climbed engaging its nuclear engines, the crew safely knocking pack another pack of potassium iodide to protect them from the radiation from the reactor. Even with the tank of hydrogen fuel meant to protect them the men were young, many still hoping to have families and live beyond the age of fifty. A message was sent to the Trivalvians that help was on the way as more crates of money, drugs and weaponry was prepared to be exported out in the name of the Clandonian Government under the flag of the Clandonia East India Company.


8th Fast Battleship Squadron, 90 Km's from Trivalvia

The sailors on-board the ships in the squadron had just finished watching the match via their satellite link. The squadron was on a much need rest after an active week of convoy protection. At around 10.24 Local Time the orders came from the Admiralty to take shore leave in Trivalvia a 'treat'. The news was read out over the broadcast system to much the surprise of the crew who were expecting to see land for a good few weeks. Off for a few nights to sample the local beverages and woman would do the crew morale a world of good. Captain Sir Peter of one of the Lion Class Missile Cruisers had just flown over to the flagship of the squadron, the Victorious-class BCN HMS Stockton to have an after dinner drink and a smoke.

"Ah good evening James good news from home then?"

"Yes David, however there is always an underlying reason for why they would send us there."

"Sadly yes, I've had word that there are some unruly goings on with the locals in Trivalvia. As far as I can see it they are sending us there to check it out and perhaps offer a bit of support with our seven little ships."

"Hmm you never know." Replied David puffing on the cigar, taking a sip from his hip flask. The good thing about Clandonian ships unlike many other nations were that they were wet, it was often a treat for a foreign officer to be allowed an alcoholic drink. The ships cruised on towards Trivalvia, only a week away from a nice rest and a chance for the crew to stretch their legs, if all went to plan they could be on their way home before any of the trouble kicked off. Captain Sir James did not want to take his squadron into the middle of some ruddy foreigners civil war.

MacKenzie's cell phone rang, barely audible amidst the chaos of their evacuation.

An unfamiliar voice spoke "Mr. MacKenzie, we notice you're having a bit of a problem with your evacuation. We have some ships that you might find useful for completing the job successfully. You know the Vetalian Syncrude pier, correct? If you are interested in discussing the matter further, you will meet us there shortly. Thank you" The phone went silent.

Captain Sir James did not want to take his squadron into the middle of some ruddy foreigners civil war.

OOC: He sounds like a reasonable man, maybe we'll be able to "negotiate" with him.

Sea, 300miles from Trivalvian Territorial Waters

The Alversian H-Class Frigate APS Homage was sitting in calm water just 300miles from Trivalvian Territorial Waters. They had been tasked by the Alversian Government to keep an eye on the rapidly escalating conflict. On board were 15 XC-22 Carge Helicopters and 10 XA-112 Helicopter Gunships. She was sitting there awaiting developments and relaying them to the Foreign Secratary in Illesia.

Trivalviapolis

"Sure, that sounds fine."

The producer and camera man make ready to climb into the APC while the rest of the team await the second vehicle.

PRESIDENT'S OFFICE, AUSTON, ANTIGR

President Pierce walked briskly down the corridor, his footsteps echoing in the eerie silence.
He was arrived at a staircase, and was greeted by a squad of soldiers, each with one of the new Sabre II assault rifles slung over his shoulder.
The squad leader, Corporal Harvey, stepped forward, saluted, and addressed the President.
"Sir, are you going down to the bunker?"
"Yep"
"Johnson will escort you"
The burly corporal gestured toward a PFC, who nodded and started down the stairs next to the president.
Soon, they arrived at a thick metal door.
The president took off a card hung around his neck by a cord and slotted it into a small device beside the door.
It beeped politely then clicked, and the door swung open to let him through.
His Department of Defence chief, David Sears, his Department of Foreign Affairs chief, Emma Kirkham, and head of the military, Commander-General Frank Contrea were seated around a large oak table.
The President seated himself at the head of the table and cut straight to the subject.
"We need to take action soon. What do you say we send a Navy landing fleet to Trivalvia?

OOC: Antigr - please visit the OOC thread, and read my post regarding how much time has passed and where we are with regards to battlelines. Much as I appreciate your desire to help, you seem to be putting the cart before the horse. This should be the last time I have to place an OOC comment in the IC thread...

We now return you to your regular RP, which is already in progress...

IC:

The MT-LB APCs moved through the streets of Trivalviapolis toward the dock. The streets ahead were deserted - what Wellington was starting to think of as the "civilian resistance" had mobilized faster than he expected in clearing a path for them.

And they were doing a good job delaying the tanks - in these few moments where the once united armed forces were now being divided, there had not yet been any effort on either side to use scramblers. As far as the army was concerned, this was a revolution of ameteurs:

"...Troop 'D' reports a mob blocking access on 17th and 18th streets..."

"...can't we get some override order? I can't get my tanks through these civilians if I can't fire a shot..."

"...Troop "B" reroute through the industrial sector and rejoin the 11th Armoured at..."

"...Damned civilians put up a barricade of cars and vans on Green Mollusc Avenue, we can't get through..."

"How come they're not shooting?" This came from one of the Naashan journalists in the APC with Wellington and MacKenzie.

"Basic orders for city occupation," Wellington said. "Tank forces are generally restricted from using their weapons except against enemy armour or entrenched weapons positions."

"That's why you told them not to attack the tanks," MacKenzie said.

"Exactly. The instant someone tosses a molotov cocktail or fires so much as a pistol, and those tanks will have a green light to return fire." Wellington frowned. "The operating procedure is over a decade old -- we'd hoped to revise them, get them closer to basic UN peacekeeping SOP, but..." he shrugged.

A beep sounded from MacKenzie's minder. He picked it up, checking the sender IP - and showed it to Samantha and Wellington. The IP was all zeros. Activating the phone function, Mackensie said, "yes?"

"Mr. MacKenzie, we notice you're having a bit of a problem with your evacuation. We have some ships that you might find useful for completing the job successfully. You know the Vetalian Syncrude pier, correct? If you are interested in discussing the matter further, you will meet us there shortly. Thank you"

MacKenzie said, "Who is this?" only to be rewarded by his minder flashing a "Connection Lost" message on its screen.

Wellington's concern was written on his face. "Whoever that was, they were able to find us faster than I feared."

"Could it be a trap?"

"Maybe. Just in case..." He reached into a weapons locker below his feet and handed pistols to MacKenzie and Samantha. "I realize you're not in favour of force, but under the circumstances you might need these."

MacKenzie grimaced, but accepted the pistol. Samantha took the pistol offered and put it in her folio once she'd double-checked the safety.

"What about the Syncrude pier? Any chance of a ship there?"

Wellington consulted a map on a screen. "There's a methanol tanker there, but it's a little out of our way. The good news is that it's farther away from the approaching tank force. Worst case scenario it would be a good plan 'B'."

Office of the President

Harrington put down the phone, satisfied. With the offer of mercenaries and even a few ships on approach, he had at least some small chance to assure victory. He made a mental note to have several Trivalvian military uniforms prepared and sent to the agreed location; the mercenaries had to blend in with Trivalvian forces seamlessly if the foreign connection was to be covered up.

The phone rang and Harrington picked it up. "Yes?"

"General Pelletier, sir. My tank forces are reporting increasing civilian resistance within the capital. Request permission to override standard occupation procedure and use all necessary force."

"What about MacKenzie? Have you located him yet?"

"We have a satellite fix on some APCs we believe are transporting MacKenzie and the rest of the insurrectionist leadership to the docks. Troop 'A' of the 31st Armoured is closest to their position, but cannot get to them in time unless they are allowed to use their weapons."

"As President, I authorize you to use all necessary force to capture MacKenzie. Anyone who resists is to be deemed a rebel and dealt with appropriately." If tanks fired on civilians it would be a PR nightmare, but with TBC in his hands and the other stations capitulating, it would be one he could handle.

Near the docks:

The sound of cannon fire reached the APC. Wellington called ahead to the APC crew. "Report!"

"Sir, we have confirmation that tank forces have been given a weapons-free order."

As if to punctuate the instruction, a tank drove in front of them.

"Driver!"

"Way ahead of you, sir," came the reply. The APC turned left, cutting down a side-street as the tank's turret attempted to line up on them.

Wellington consulted the map, swearing under his breath as more tank icons lit up. "We're cut off from the Naashan ship," he said.

"What about the medical APC?" MacKenzie asked.

"They went right. They might be able to reach the research vessel, but only if they're lucky." Wellington looked at the Naashans. "The vehicle crew taking your countrymen is good, they'll at least have a chance. As for us..."

MacKenzie said, "The Vetalian Syncrude pier?"

"Yeah. We're well into plan 'B' now. The pier it is." And please don't let it be a trap...

Inside MacKenzie's APC

The vehicle lurched as the driver cut into a side street, both Naashans cursed as they were jolted in their seats and the camera operator quickly checked that his equipment was still strapped to his shoulder. Both men were now watching the rather shaky playback of the Trivalvian tank moving ahead of them, fortunately not being able to get a shot in, they were also fairly sure they had the sound of the cannon fire but it was hard to tell without the rest of the crew's gear.

Inside the medical APC

The remaining three Naashans were white faced as their own vehicle sped along toward the docks, a handheld video camera lay smashed on the floor where they had managed to drop it while filming., but there wasn't much to be seen from where they were sitting anyway. They huddled closer together as more cannon fire could be heard from the tanks cutting through civilian mobs to reach them.

The Vetalian Syncrude pier was quiet, with most of its cargo already loaded for transport out of the city. All that remained at the pier were a small group of people clustered around three black Anza F625 sedans and a military jeep.

A voice with a Trivalvian accent spoke.
"I've ordered my men out of the area and cleared your shipment with HQ. As far as they know, everything's secure and MacKenzie's running scared somewhere in downtown. They're not going to sweep this area again for while, so you've got at least a good two or three hours to cast off without a problem. Beyond that, no guarantees."

"Excellent, Lieutenant. We knew you were an...honorable man."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Spare me the sarcasm. Just give me what we agreed upon."
"Fyodor, give it to him"

A briefcase was passed between Fyodor and the Trivalvian lieutenant. He briefly opened it, looked at the currency inside, and said nothing. Climbing in to his patrol jeep, he drove away down a side alley.

"Looks like MacKenzie and Wellington are almost here."
"Good, they're on time. Send word to the captain that we're going to depart shortly."

He turned to the guards.

"I want you and your men to get on board, and keep your weapons ready. As much as I'd love to assume the lieutenant will keep his word, I can't trust anyone who'd disobey orders for a bribe."

The three VS Anzas drove off, leaving just Fyodor and his boss waiting for MacKenzie to arrive.

South Wing, Senate Building
Illesia City
Alversia

The Foreign Secratary noted with satisfaction that the newscrews were in position in the capital. The Alversian Senate was reluctant to donate troops to any foreign country and so he would have to find an alternate way to get Alversians into the country if everything kicked off. Meanwhile he was to fly to meet this MacKenzie who was organising the resistance to Harrison. He would leave within the hour

Medical APC 19,
Approaching the dockyards

Sargeant Phil Hebert cursed as another tank cut off his approach to the docks. The MT-LB was not the most maneuverable vehicle around, and this part of the city was older than most, with narrow streets.

He caught sight of an open warehouse. "Hang on," he shouted back to his passengers, and he drove toward it.

Another tank appeared in a side street, and let off a shot. A hole appeared in the office building across from the APC, fragments from the explosion bouncing off its armour, then they were in the warehouse and out of sight.

Hebert allowed himself a breath of relief. They can drive through the warehouse, out the back way, and hopefully be a good distance away from here before the tanks have a chance to find them again...

Two APCs pulled in front of Hebert's planned exit, making an instant barricade. "Merde!" Hebert attempted to turn the vehicle in a 180, and managed to get the vehicle going back the way he came, when the tank he had avoided drove into the entrance, the turret lined up on him.

No way out.

Soldiers were now exiting the APCs, XM8 assault rifles and XM25 grenade launchers at the ready. One of them had the rank of major on his uniform. "You can't escape," he told the trapped vehicle and its occupants. "Surrender now and you will be treated fairly. Resist and..." He glanced at the tank.

Hebert looked at the tank, which had pulled up slowly, stopping a few meters away. He looked back at the Naashans gathered in the APC.

Damn it!

"I tried," he said. "I'm sorry."

The door opened, and soldiers covered everyone inside. The one soldier who had accompanied the fleeing APC surrendered his rifle, placing his hands on his head. The Naashans did likewise, but one glared at Hebert, as if accusing him.

"I'm so sorry," Hebert said again.

Trivalviapolis

The APNC-1 news crew had managed to sneak in and set up their camaras behind a barricade, just out of reach of the overworked soldiers. The reporter checked to see the coast was clear before stepping out behind the barricade and beginning to speak:

"As you can see behind me, the people of Trivalvia have rallied to the call from former president Mackenzie and have erected barricades like this all over the capital, seemingly to prevent members of the Trivalvian Armed forces from getting through to the leader of this resistance. So far the army has refused to open fire on the crowds and there has been little bloodshed, although in this volatile climate, nothing is certain. We have also recieved reports of a foreign news crew who have been arrested near the coast of Trivalvia. President Harrison has claimed that the crew was spying for MacKenzie although details are sparse. We will update you as we recieve the information. Gemma Hartley, APC News, Trivalviapolis"

The Foreign Secratary switched of the television and glanced out the window satisfied with the work of the reporters. Hartley was a good kid, she'd report the news as truthfully as she could. That's why he had sent her personally. He gathered his coat and prepared to leave for the Illesian International Airport.

Near the Dockyards, Trivalviapolis

Sandy shot the driver an ugly look as she climbed out of the APC, her hands on her head. Gregg, the sound guy, followed a moment later and copied her stance, obviously terrified.

Where was Tony?

The technician climbed out the rear door after a few moments, looking uncomfortable. She gave him an enquiring glance as he raised his empty palms to the soldiers before placing them on his head like the rest.

Anyone inspecting the interior of the APC might notice the smashed remains of the handheld camera had been pried open, they might even notice that a small memory chip appeared to have been removed. That chip was now squashed under the tongue of his right shoe, hopefully hidden enough to evade a casual search.

The Dockyards, Vetalian Syncrude pier,
4:25 PM local time.

The command APC pulled up to the pier, parking behind a small warehouse between the pier and the streets. The driver took one look at the fuel guage, and whistled. "That's it for this vehicle," he told the others. "We're out of fuel."

"You did very well, thank you," MacKenzie replied. Wellington said nothing, but looked through the forward windows to check out the pier.

"We have company. Two people; they look to be unarmed, but I'm not sure..." Wellington's gaze went up to the cargo ship. "They have lookouts. Can't tell from this distance but I think they're armed."

MacKenzie mulled this over. "So, is this a trap?"

"I don't know. The presence of armed guards does worry me." Wellington gestured to the driver and his partner. Both got their assault rifles ready in response.

"We'll have to leave the APC here. Corporal, rig a charge for remote detonation - we can deny the enemy a chance to use this APC themselves."

The co-driver exited the vehicle, assault rifle at the ready, and walked slowly toward the two men, stopping six meters away. When he wasn't mowed down by weapons fire, Wellington nodded to his civilian passengers.

MacKenzie exited first, Samantha and the two Naashan journalists behind them. Wellington brought up the rear, his pistol drawn. The six approached joined the co-driver.

Wellington said to MacKenzie. "Don't identify yourself - if they do start shooting, get back to the APC and keep your head down." He then shouted to the two men, "Identify yourselves, and - if you don't mind - explain the armed men watching us from the ship."

Sea, 300miles from Trivalvian Territorial Waters


APS Homage reported back to Illesia that the battleships were in port and that alot of weaponry was landing at the airport. The Frigate was still floating outside Trivalvian waters and was ready if MacKenzie needed an escort.

Trivalviapolis International Air Cargo Terminal

Using the unique talents that had made her such an excellant reporter. Gemma and her newscrew crept up to fencing around the airport before beginning to speak:

"As you can see, alot of foreign equioment is arriving from an unknown source. It is most likely to equip the forces loyal to President Harrison. We now know that the newscrew captured were from Naasha and were accompanying MacKenzie as he attempted to escape prosecution. The Harrison government refuses to acknowledge their capture but it is obvious from the reactions of local Trivalvians are growing more and more nervous about the presence of heavy armour on the streets. The Alversian government is undecided weither or not to interfere directly in the situation or to send peacekeepers to help garuntee the protection of civil rights. The decision will be made shortly. This is Gemma Hartley, APC News, Trivalviapolis."

Meanwhile, the senate met to discuss wheither or not to place their support behind MacKenzie or to back the government.

OOC: You are playing a dangerous game, Clandonia.

Central Soviet Intelligence HQ, Red City, The World Soviet Party

The room was dark, the lights were off, only the map table and the wall were illuminated with a projector, which showed a satellital photo of the Trivalvian Capital. Several objects and buildings were marked with red circles.
An assembled group of Soviet Military and Intelligence officers was there, examining the pictures.

"So gentlemen, you'll notice that the Clandonians have decided to support Harrintong, our 'new' Trivalvian president, and they even had the courage to send in personnel and weapons. Then again, they are doing this using a corporation as a cover for military ops."- The presenter got up and pointed at the new structures and vehicles -"Our intel indicates these are military-grade bunkers, to the right, we have some fighters and transports, thought to be carrying heavy payloads to be dropped on the Trivalvian Loyalists. Any questions?"-

Several people raised their hands, and the presenter chose one.

"So, what are our choices?"

"Good question, our official stance is yet to be revelaed, though it would go against public opinion to start a war or try to interfere in foreign affairs, specially in a NEAMC ally"

"So, we are going to sit down and wait for those bastards to take over?!"

"That's not what I said, I just stated that the public must not find out, as we speak, a group of bombers and multirole fighters painted with Clandonian and Trivalvian colours and insignia are getting ready, you'll find out about it later.
Now, who's up for a coffee break?"

OOC: *cough* We're still on the same day, guys (or is this a subtle hint to get a move on?)

OOC: Camera Crews move around quickly, its not unusual for one to be in two locations on the same day, escpecially during a crisis like this

Apologies Alversia - I'm referring to CP and TWSP both deciding to push the clock forward some days hences.

And *this* I hope will be my last OOC intrusion here - I'll await both of their OOC responses in the appropriate thread.

"Ahh, Mr. Mackenzie. It's good to see you have arrived safely. My men are of no concern to you, they are simply security to ensure that this 'shipment' will not be attacked during its trip out of the city."

"My apologies for the lack of introduction; tensions are no excuse for rudeness. I am Boris Suvorov, and this is my assistant Pyotr Kuleshov. We are a part of Vetalian Syncrude's security division, and so the company has tasked us with getting you out of the city and safely to Bivalviaton. It is essential to their interests that you get out of this city safely."

"Do not appear so impatient, Mr. Mackenzie. The government won't be bothering us for several hours...we've taken care of it, so to speak. Gather whatever you feel is necessary, and board the tanker."

"And if you're concerned it's a trap...don't worry. If we were working against you, we would have killed you long before you received our call."

(OOC: Starting up again. Sorry for the mess).

IC:

Wellington glanced at Suberov, then back at MacKenzie. His face said it all: I don't like this.

MacKenzie shrugged back, then turned to Suberov. "Well, I thank you for your offer. If you can get us to Bivalviaton it would be appreciated."

Before anyone could say anything else, the private shouted, "Sir!"

Everyone turned to see a tank entering the dockyards. An APC was behind it.

So much for the promise that we would have a few hours, MacKenzie thought. Then Wellington was pushing him toward the ramp. Samantha already running.

The private started running - toward the approaching vehicles. He yelled "Hostiles!" to the corporal, who had just emerged from the APC with a detonator in hand.

"Private, get back here! That's an order!" Wellington yelled at him. The private ignored him, aiming his assault rifle at the tank treads and firing.

"Dammit. Get aboard! MOVE!"

The tank began to track the soldier firing at it. There was no way the private's assault rifle could have an effect...

... but it was distracting the tank crew.

From his vantage point at the APC, the corporal had also taken his assault rifle and joined in the fight. The approaching APC stopped, and soldiers began to exit.

MacKenzie needed no further urging after that. Giving a brief salute to the two men risking their lives, he turned to the ramp and started up, Samantha close behind, with the two Vetalian businessmen behind them. Wellington brought up the rear.

They were followed of course, by the two Naashan journalists, both of whom looked terrified.

(OOC: D'oh! I knew I forgot something!

Going to fast forward a few hours here...)

IC:

OFFICIAL PRESS RELEASE
OFFICE OF THE PRESIDENT

The Trivalvian Government hereby confirms the presence of an insurrectionist movement within its borders, which attempted to sieze power by inciting riots within Trivalviapolis and Sussex. Although scattered pockets of resistance remain, these riots have been suppressed, and military and police forces are working to restore peace and order in those cities.

Insurrectionists were able to control local television studios briefly, although most of these studios have now been reclaimed thanks to the actions of law-abiding citizens. Sadly, armed insurgents attempted to resist arrest in the Trivalvian Broadcasting Corporation central news studios, resulting in the deaths of several civilian workers there. The President offers his condolences to the families of the slains and his assurances that the murderers responsible will not escape justice.

However, with the possibility of insurgent groups still operating within Trivalviapolis and other cities, the Trivalvian Government hereby requests and requires that all foreign journalists return to their embassies for their own safety. Already some journalists from the nation of Naasha have been taken prisoner by insurgents. Nationalist forces were able to rescue three of these journalists from their captors. These journalists are now being held in protective custody until such time as the military deems it safe for them to return to their homeland.

As to the rumours that the military has been divided by recent events, this government confirms them as just that - rumours. A new chain of command has been instated, and the majority of our armed forces are now once again under lawful rule...

Aboard the Vetalian tanker

"...'and we still control the airport'." MacKenzie quipped sourly as he read the release. He tossed the paper aside and looked out a porthole. In the distance, he could see the shoreline of Bivalve Island.

The tanker would reach Bivalviaton within the hour.

Part II: The United, Divided

A night, and a day passed. The morning of May 17, 2009 found Trivalvia a nation holding its breath... and divided.

In a way, history was repeating itself. Before Unification in the mid-1990s, Trivalvia was actually two nations: the mainland portion which bore the name, and the largest island, which was called 'Bivalvia' until Unification changed it to "Bivalve Island province". The two nations had gotten along so well, even fought on the same side in both world wars, that unification was little more than a formality.

Now, the two nations were divided once more, and this time, they had weapons pointed at each other. For the first time in centuries, soldiers looked across the Trivalvian Sea with aprehension.

On the mainland, the popular movement that had sparked the crisis had vanished; the show of force that occurred in Trivalviapolis and Sussex, and repeated in smaller scale in other cities, was enough to fracture the movement; panic it, drive it into hiding. People looked out at the soldiers and tanks in the streets and knew not only the injustice of what was happening, but also their own isolation and helplessness.

Bivalve Island had no soldiers or tanks in the streets, no government lockdown on the media, but its people felt no less helpless.

Bivalve Island Provincial Legislature,
Government Complex, Bivalviaton,
May 17, 2009, 9:00 AM local time

Below the main legislative chamber, one of the conference rooms was sealed and under guard. Inside, a council of war was being held.

William MacKenzie took a second to examine the faces gathered in the room. Beside him, Samantha stood, looking professional and inscrutible as always, and General Wellington, who looked as haggard as MacKenzie felt.

Both he and Wellington had not gotten more than a few minutes rest since they fled from the mainland.

Besides Samantha and Wellington, seated at the long oak conference table, the premier of Bivalve Island, a representative from Isle d'Monovalve, two colonels from Bivalve Island's largest military bases, and representatives from the nations of Naasha, the World Soviet Party, Vetalia, and Alversia.

(ooc: I'll let the nations themselves choose who they're sending to the meeting)

Wellington had balked at the last four members, but allowed it so long as certain security concerns were met. They were about to reveal critical information that could cripple Trivalvia's defenses in the wrong hands, but the situation was that desperate.

On the large LCD screen embedded in the conference table's surface, a map showing Trivalvia in its current state:

http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n26/andrewc3/trivalviarevolutionmap.jpg

MacKenzie took a breath, and began. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming.

"I trust you have read the material we handed out this morning -" or at least skimmed through it "- So you're aware of the legal nature of Harrington's attempt to sieze power. Now, we must address the strategic and political situation, especially if this country is to have constitutional government restored to it. And, we have precious little time."

The Bivalvian premier addressed the others. "Bivalve Island has almost two hundred million people; most living in the cities, the rest scattered in tightly knit towns that have endured centuries without any real changes. But, since unification, we have moved and grown from an agrarian culture to an information one. Our economy depends on trade, both electronic and material, and our biggest import is... food.

"Put simply, Bivalve Island cannot support itself alone. We got most of our food from farms on the mainland, and now that source has been cut off. At best, we can hold out for a few weeks before food shortages begin."

"That figure can be shortened considerably if Harrington decides to strike," Wellington added. He pointed to the map. "While our ground forces are almost evenly divided, our navy and air force are now skewed in Harrington's favour. Harrington controls the naval battlegroups operating from Trivalviapolis NFB, New Moncton NFB, and Vale Island NFB - that's a total of thirty-six ships. Only the ships at Monovalve Bay NFB have not sided with him. That's twelve ships, frigates and cruisers specifically. Harrington has five squadrons of F-39 Copperhead fighters at his disposal, while we have only two squadrons.

"If Harrington wants to, he can cut Bivalve Island off from all outside support, and strike at key parts of the infrastructure, weakening our ability to outlast any siege." Wellington paused. "Unless something changes, the public here will likely revolt in less than a month - and accept totalitarian rule under Harrington over starvation."

The Alversian Foreign Secratary nodded in approval, he was starting to like this man. He stood up and claimed "Under Alversian Order 23 we are to supply the Island of Bivalve Island with food and medical supplies. If forces loyal to Harrison attempt to intercept these supplies then it can be considered as an act of war and we will be allowed to supply you with regular troops" He stopped for a moment and stared at the Field Marshall beside "However, for any deployment to be effective, we need to know what sort of weapons that the Trivalvian Army carries and what armour is currantly patrolling the streets" He sat down, awaiting the response of MacKenzie.

Alversia could actually deploy a significant number of troops to fight in this battle but without a provoking action first it might seem that that Alversia fired the first shot. The Supplies were to be bait, no way Harrison could allow Internationals to supply his enemies.

Trivalviapolis

Gemma heard the messages for newscrews and Internationals to return to their embassies. "Huh" she scoffed, "like hell I am!" she got back into her car and drove off towards the highest concentration soldiers, outside the Trivalvian head of State building, she was hoping to get some footage of troops. The voiceover she could do later...

MacKenzie and Wellington exchanged glances.

"I appreciate the offer of support, both humanitarian and military," MacKenzie said carefully, "But one thing we need to avoid is a full-out war."

"If we can," Wellington added. His expression displayed his doubt.

One of the colonels asked, "With respect, why not accept the help? With naval support from our allies, we could force Harrington's surrender."

"Because that is what Harrington wants us to do. Samantha?"

Samantha took a memory stick from her suit pocket and slipped into the reader in the table. A video replaced the map on the table screen. "This is a recorded broadcast of a press conference Harrington gave late last night - it was broadcast on the nation's emergency channels rather than the normal television networks, and was clearly intended for a Trivalvian audience. I'll fast forward to the section relevant to our discussion... there."

The image stablized on Harrington's visiage. MacKenzie noted that Harrington at least looked as if he was well-rested.

"...It does not surprise me in the least that MacKenzie would flee to Bivalve Island. The man has depended more on his foreign handlers than on his own people, and, now that his attempt to subvert our army has failed, he will no doubt call on those handlers to supply an invasion force. He has betrayed his true colours, and shown that his cause is to destroy our very way of life..."

Samantha cut the image, and the screen defaulted back to the map.

"As you can see, Harrington is wasting no time in playing the patriotism angle. If even a modest foreign force enters Trivalvian waters or airspace, he'll be screaming invasion over the airwaves. That might be enough to swing public opinion - to say nothing of the opinions of the military units that have signed on with us - in his favour."

"For now, however, we have a few other options at our disposal," said Wellington. "Before we lost control of our satellites, we were able to confirm that Harrington has not yet ordered his fleet to blockade this island, but that order could come through at any time. We need a way to keep those ships in port, or, barring that, to keep them from maintaining a complete blockade - aid can slip in through holes in their net if need be."

He pointed to dots on the map, located within the area designated as "Nationalist Trivalvia". "These are the last known locations of the ground force units that have signed on with us. They're scattered, and hidden deep within forested areas to keep the satellite network from detecting them, but they offer us a chance to strike at the mainland naval bases, crippling their ability to communicate or resupply the fleet at range. However... because the Nationalists have locked us out of our satellites, we can't communicate with them."

MacKenzie and Wellington exchanged glances.

"I appreciate the offer of support, both humanitarian and military," MacKenzie said carefully, "But one thing we need to avoid is a full-out war."

"If we can," Wellington added. His expression displayed his doubt.

One of the colonels asked, "With respect, why not accept the help? With naval support from our allies, we could force Harrington's surrender."

"Because that is what Harrington wants us to do. Samantha?"

Samantha took a memory stick from her suit pocket and slipped into the reader in the table. A video replaced the map on the table screen. "This is a recorded broadcast of a press conference Harrington gave late last night - it was broadcast on the nation's emergency channels rather than the normal television networks, and was clearly intended for a Trivalvian audience. I'll fast forward to the section relevant to our discussion... there."

The image stablized on Harrington's visiage. MacKenzie noted that Harrington at least looked as if he was well-rested.

"...It does not surprise me in the least that MacKenzie would flee to Bivalve Island. The man has depended more on his foreign handlers than on his own people, and, now that his attempt to subvert our army has failed, he will no doubt call on those handlers to supply an invasion force. He has betrayed his true colours, and shown that his cause is to destroy our very way of life..."

Samantha cut the image, and the screen defaulted back to the map.

"As you can see, Harrington is wasting no time in playing the patriotism angle. If even a modest foreign force enters Trivalvian waters or airspace, he'll be screaming invasion over the airwaves. That might be enough to swing public opinion - to say nothing of the opinions of the military units that have signed on with us - in his favour."

"For now, however, we have a few other options at our disposal," said Wellington. "Before we lost control of our satellites, we were able to confirm that Harrington has not yet ordered his fleet to blockade this island, but that order could come through at any time. We need a way to keep those ships in port, or, barring that, to keep them from maintaining a complete blockade - aid can slip in through holes in their net if need be."

He pointed to dots on the map, located within the area designated as "Nationalist Trivalvia". "These are the last known locations of the ground force units that have signed on with us. They're scattered, and hidden deep within forested areas to keep the satellite network from detecting them, but they offer us a chance to strike at the mainland naval bases, crippling their ability to communicate or resupply the fleet at range. However... because the Nationalists have locked us out of our satellites, we can't communicate with them."

"Like I said" the Foreign Minister stated "If we were give you supplies both of food and equipment, it would be a severe tactical error not to cut off these supplies, but to attack them would provoke external war. If we were to parachute our 4th Rangers Platoon into Trivalvia to co-operate the forces still loyal to you it would make alot easier for all concerned"

Wellington paused, considering the offer. A platoon? That would only be twenty to forty men. How much good could that do?...

But wait a minute... Didn't Archimedes once say that with a lever and a place to stand, one person could move the world?

He looked down at the map. "It's an option. I'm a little worried on how we can get such a force into the mainland - it's a few hundred kilometers from shoreline to the nearest naval base, assuming you don't go for a direct assault. But that's something we can work out in greater details later.

"But we go back to our immediate concern, and that is communication."

"They've blocked all our communication lines?" one colonel asked.

"Blocked or encrypted. Even the few landlines we have running between bases here and HQ on the mainland are nonresponsive. And that means our forces in the mainland can't communicate with each other, much less with us to coordinate any effective strikes."

Samantha said nothing but glanced at her watch.

MacKenzie added, "Communication is going to matter for the civilian end of things as well. We left a large movement behind on the mainland, and we need to get back in contact with them. Otherwise they'll lose cohesion, or even act in ways that might nullify any moves our military makes.

"Coordinating between the popular revolution and the military strikes gives us a chance of restoring constitutional rule without a long, protracted war. Without that coordination, this country becomes a battleground, and no-one can predict what order will emerge - or which ambitious foreign powers will take advantage of our devastated state.

"Either way, a large war here can have horrific long-term consequences for the Trivalvian people, as well as the state of peace and security within the Nova Europan region. All of us here have to keep that issue in sight, whatever plans we develop."

The Foreign Secratary spoke up, "I understand that you do not want to be seen by the people as resorting to foreign troops, but that time is over. If you do not act now, any and all forces loyal to you will be removed one by one. The 4th Rangers are a strike team. They hit a position and then retreat. The people loyal to democracy will understand that help must sometimes be taken, even without the will of the people. They will realise their error in time"

OOC: Trivalvia, if there are only to be two people in this thread, I don't see much point in continuing. Just saying.

[OOC: Sorry, last post tonight probably, can we time warp this to either before or after the CEO's talk? I wouldn't want to be rude and interrupt...]

Naasha's representatives, General Trent of the Ministry of Defence and John Samuels of the intelligence community, had so far remained silent, watching the proceedings with interest. Now Trent addressed MacKenzie and his supporters directly.

"One of our carrier groups is on station off Gibraltar, if need be then we can render naval assistance to you but I understand that we may be playing to Harrington's wishes by involving foreign troops. As it is, the support is there if you need it."

"We could arrange for food shipments to Bivalve Island, but it will take us time to arrange supply lines and such, as well as muster sufficient goods. I am informed it will take at least a week to begin sending supplies over due to the fact that the land borders are closed, our wheat and bread exports used to go overland into Trivalvia."

"My colleague, Mr Samuels here, has raised the possibility of allowing you to use our own communications systems. We do have satellite coverage of Trivalvia, but the problem will still be in establishing contact with the mainland forces and informing them of the switch. We have one of Ackistan's AT-1's which we can loan you as well, if you like. It's a 747 with TV and AM radio broadcasting capability up to 400 miles."

(OOC: no problem, Naasha.)

MacKenzie considered the offers provided. Naasha's offer was sound, and even Wellington was nodding in approval.

But the Alversian representatives... MacKenzie was beginning to get a chill from being in the same room with them. It's almost like they're eager for war.

Still - he had to admit the options without their help were not so good. He nodded. "All right. General Wellington, I'm sure you can coordinate the military end of things. And the satellites and communication gear should help us considerably..."

At that moment, the door opened, and sounds of an argument could be heard. One of the guards stuck his head in. "Sorry for the interruption, but we have a couple of people who are insisting they be let in--" Two men, one in a business suit, the other in a shirt, sweater, and khaki pants - the latter muttered a brief "excuse us," to the guard.

Wellington, jaw slack from surprise, looked at MacKenzie, who responded only with an I didn't arrange this expression. It was Samantha who spoke up. "I... took the liberty of inviting them, sir."

"I... see." Wellington took a second to glare at Samantha, adding, "We are going to have to have a talk about your concept of security."

MacKenzie sighed and stood. "Gentlemen, if you could take a seat, we can get back to business. Everyone, allow me to introduce Steve Q. Gates and Bill Kobbs, joint founders and CEOs of the IT corporation Orangesoft."

The Foreign Secratary calmed down began to speak more slowly "I apologise for my outburst but you must surely realise that Harrison and the army will not back down. The options are rapidly shrinking and soon you will have little choice but to launch an attack on the mainland. If the forces loyal to Harrison can be disauded from supporting him, then all the better. If not then there is little else that you can do"

The General spoke up "I am sorry if you gained the wrong impression of us. We are usually a peaceful country, but freedom or the loss of it, gets us pretty frustrated. If there is any chance of a peaceful solution then we should persue it with all eagerness. If not, Alversia is not afraid of war.

[*Boots Trivalvia back onto his own OOC thread*]

"Sorry we're late," said Steve Gates, taking a second to tug at his sweater. "We would have been here sooner, but after reading the brief you sent us, sir --"

'Sir?' MacKenzie mouthed at Samantha. She smiled and said nothing.

"--we wanted to be sure we had something to bring to the table, so to speak. I think we might have at least part of your communiction problem solved."

Wellington coughed. "We just got an offer from the Naashan military, so I don't see--"

"--which, I bet, covers some or all of your military needs but not the civilian end, am I right?" Gates grinned at the general. "This is more than a military revolution you're staging. It's even more than a popular revolution. It's a technological revolution."

Silence from all members at the table.

MacKenzie leaned forward in his seat. "I think you have our attention, Mr. Gates."

"Well, a famous Canadian science fiction writer once said that Technology is Legislation. Technologies give people options and the freedom to exercise them.

"Look at the revolutions that toppled the Communist regimes in Europe, or at the pro-democracy demonstrations of Tiennamin Square, all in the last century. In all of those revolutions, the old regimes exerted power through brute force and information control. But new ways to communicate - to spread information and organize - had sprung into being, giving the democratic movements a way to circumvent the controls of the old regimes. Fax machines, camcorders, even the fledgling internet, all allowed the world to see what was happening, to mobilize support on a global level, and to topple regimes in some cases without firing a single shot!"

Wellington rapped a knuckle on the table. "All very interesting I am sure, but do you have a point?"

Bill Kobbs adjusted his tie before speaking. "The first thing Harrington did once he ordered the troops out was to sieze control of TV, Radio, and newspaper outlets."

Gates added, "Guess what he hasn't seized." His grin widened. "Go on, guess."

He's like a kid in Show and Tell, MacKenzie thought, turning his mind to the question. His gaze fell to the minder he had placed on the table before the meeting started.

In one corner of its business-card sized screen, he saw the attenna icon - steady, with two bars of signal strength - and in a flash he had the answer.

"The web. Harrington didn't touch any of Trivalvia's internet service providers."

"Not one," Kobbs agreed. "Nor did he touch the civilian minder network, though there he can't seize control of it. When Blackberry suffered a service outage back in '07, Orangesoft took an important lesson from the incident - we moved to a highly decentralized network of mini-servers and repeaters throughout Trivalvia - you could grab some, but never all. At least, not without driving this country back into the stone age in the process."

"And because of that," Gates added, "you still have communications with all of the pro-democracy movements still out there. And more. Much more."

The Foreign Secratary smiled, He liked these two men already. He turned to MacKenzie and said

"It would seem that the Communication side of things has been settled. A connection with the people is never a bad thing. However, there is still the problem of how to commnicate with Troops loyal to yourself without betraying your position. I must add that if Harrison moves against the Loyalist troops, without any support from higher authourities, they will have little option but to disarm and surrender. Have you an idea on how to co-ordinate the troops loyal to yourself and somehow mobilise them into a central location?"

"Our intention was to allow the loyalist forces access to Naasha's satellite communications net. Trivalvia is easily close enough to make use of our facilities."

MacKenzie nodded. "Then we have a plan. Mr. Gates, Mr. Kobbs, the Naashan satellite network offer would probably strengthen your own proposal considerably."

Wellington added, "Those satellites ought to give our military some communication access as well. Military minders are sadly much more centralized than the civilian ones."

"That's... not quite true," Kobbs said. "The basic design of the military and civilian style 'Orange' minders are the same - only the core routing chip is different. Interchange a military routing chip for a civilian one, and the minder can function on a military network - or vice-versa."

"What...?" Wellington took a moment to recover his breath. "You assured the Defense Ministry those minders were secure!"

"They are - the chips are soldered to the boards. But a skilled electronic technician can perform the switch."

MacKenzie chuckled. "Build a better mousetrap, sooner or later someone will build a better mouse. But that also gives us a chance to eavesdrop on Nationalist military traffic as well."

Wellington nodded, regaining his composure. "All right then," he said. "Summing up, we now have some means to communicate both with popular movements and with friendly troops on the mainland, and to organize an offensive. We have an offer from Alversia to provide some covert operations forces to aid our own - I'd suggest they should be clad in Trivalvian uniforms and gear; I'll provide you with a list of what will be needed. We have an opportunity to gather intel on Nationalist movements, and even offer of supplies and naval support if all else fails and Harrington gets his blockade in place.

"Now, if we can get our own ships at Isle d'Monovalve in place..."

At that moment, the representative from Isle d'Monovalve cleared his throat. "I'm afraid those ships won't be leaving the island, General."

"Excuse me?"

MacKenzie looked at the representative, concerned. "I don't understand."

"Please don't misunderstand me - we in Isle d'Monovalve want Harrington gone and our country reunited as badly as you. But based on what I'm hearing here, I can't see how we can accomplish that without a shooting war, and no guaruntee of victory."

"But a popular uprising, work stoppages, demonstrations -" MacKenzie was, for the first time since the meeting began, unbalanced."

"Might work, and they might not." The representative sighed. "I was given the authority to decide whether Isle d'Monovalve will join in the fight or stand neutral, and right now I will recommend to the premier that we stay neutral. We're far enough away that Harrington won't move against us immediately, and keeping neutral will mean we will not be a threat, and we have ships, some ground troops, and a squadron of planes in the event that he does."

"Ships, troops, and planes that are needed if we're to bring this to a swift end," Wellington said, his face reddening. "And, dammit, those are my forces!"

"Nevertheless, those forces are on Isle d'Monovalve soil and they are charged with defending that island. As of now, Isle d'Monovalve is declaring itself a neutral sovereign entity. Prove that your revolution can win some battles against Harrington, and we'll be able to provide support and one day rejoin the country. But until then--" He stood and started to leave the room.

"Will you at least keep what we have discussed here secret?" Wellington looked sick.

"Of course. And we will be in touch." The representative nodded to the others, and left.

After the door closed, MacKenzie sighed and said, "Well, Alversia, Naasha, it appears we might need the suggested military support more than ever."

"We can give you whatever support you need, just say the word. As for now, our Sixth Carrier Group will be moving north from Gibraltar and toward Trivalvia. Agent Samuels will get in touch with the military and get you satellite clearances as soon as possible."

Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean

The ship lurched up into the next wave, causing Lawrence Grant to curse as he dropped coffee onto his uniform. The fleet was nearing Trivalvian waters now and the weather was contesting every mile they sailed. He stood and nodded to the officer of the watch as he headed below to get changed, the Bridge of the NNS Jewel of the Deserts wasn't the most formal in the navy, but certain standards needed to be upheld. That and the fact that it was burning his leg.

A screen lit up as he hurried past, catching the communications officer's eye.

Flash Update

Trivalvian loyalist military forces on Isle Bivalve have been provided clearance to Naashan satellite comms channels 3.156, 4.275 and 8.0. Secure channel is available on 9.271.

This was shortly followed by a second.

Flash Update

AT-1 Transmitter enroute to World Soviet Party - Trivalvia border to establish contact with loyalist 26th Battalion, 2nd and 23rd Armoured regiments. Callsign is Propaganda-11, F-22 escorts will rendezvous with package as Raptor-1. We will be using NEA bases in WSP for this assignment.

The carrier group now had the 'honour' of sending the first signal across the joint comms system. "Naashan Sixth Carrier Group to Loyalist Command HQ on Bivalve. Request permission to take station east of the isle pending further instructions."

Wellington had moved his headquarters to Bivalviaton Air Force Base, west of the provincial capital. The base, besides containing the only squadron of planes, was also the only air base with a suitable command and communications section to serve as a proper War Room.

As his technicians started to link into the satellite feeds provided by the Naashans, Wellington thought about his last conversation with MacKenzie, before leaving to coordinate his forces:

"Bill, I know you want to avoid any real warfare here, but that may no longer be possible. In a sense, the war is already underway - some of our forces have already fired on their own. Now that the first shot has been fired, we can't afford to hold off fighting back, because they won't."

MacKenzie had paused, as if mulling this over, before nodding. "I understand, though I don't like it. Still, there has to be a way to minimize the damage here."

"That's going to depend in part on how Pelletier and Harrington plan to fight this war. We at least are going to have to fight smarter - conserve our forces and bases while forcing them to exhaust theirs. But I can only do that if you give me free rein. I can't afford to be shackled."

"All right. But try to keep our country in one piece, okay?"

Wellington wasn't entirely sure how he would accomplish that little condition, but at least he had the authority to fight this war his way.

The link was established, and soon, Wellington was in contact with the commanders of his forces on the mainland.

The initial reports were mixed. Forces in East Trivalve - specifically the 26th Mechanized Battalion and the 2nd and 23rd Armoured Regiments - were intact. So was the 9th Battalion, but it was located on the North Coast, far from any of the other groupings. The 32nd and 41st Battalions in South Trivalve had suffered losses due to desertions - both were at 80% capacity. And the 5th Battalion had lost half a company in its attempt to flee the Capital - including the colonel and lt. colonel. Major Gillis was the ranking officer there, and Wellington's first act was to give him field command of the battalion, with a rank of Colonel.

Next came intel. Gillis summed up the situation.

"So far, Harrington's spread out his forces. He's kept a regiment of tanks in each of the major cities, although the 10th Armoured has had trouble with its tanks, and is back at Sussex GFB."

"All of the 10th Armoured tanks are having trouble?"

"That was the official report," said the commander of the 2nd Armoured. "But we intercepted a transmission between Sussex GFB and Trivalviapolis. Appears the entire regiment got a case of the 'flu' not long after your broadcast, sir."

Wellington mulled this over. "Interesting. Your thoughts?"

"Hard to say. Best guess is that the regiment commander is sitting on the fence. Not willing to support Harrington, but not willing to break and join us either."

"I see. We could use those tanks but at least they're out of the fight for now. Anything you can suggest to get them on our side would be appreciated. Anything else?"

"Elsewhere, it's pretty much one battalion or tank regiment to a city. Most of the smaller cities - anything smaller than 1 million people - he's entrusting to the local police to enforce his directives.

"Beyond that, there seems to be some renewed interest in the mothballed NEAMC facilities in Sussex. Looks like there's still some equipment there that wasn't removed when Harrington kicked the NEA out."

"What could he do with that equipment?"

"Not sure. But best guess is that Harrington could use that equipment to eavesdrop on any NEA satellite transmissions - assuming the remaining equipment is up to the task."

Wellington took a moment to consider the map. Moving carefully, the nearest forces to Sussex could assault the city in a couple of days. Leaving the complex there alone was too much of a risk - access to NEA satellites meant getting into the Naashan satellites as well, including their own channels.

But, if the Free forces could take that complex intact... "Could the equipment there be used against our own satellites as well?"

"Maybe, but we're speculating. We'll need more intel."

"I'll see what I can do. Meantime; the 26th Battalion, 2nd and 23rd Regiments should position themselves to take Sussex. We'll have an AT-1 transmitter available for comm support sometime over the next day or two. I'm designating your forces as Division Gamma; this operation will be entitled 'Blindfold'.

"32nd, 33rd, and 41st Battalions and the 11th Regiment will be designated Division Beta. You'll position yourselves to be in equal striking range of New Moncton NFB and AFB, as well as South Trivalve GFB - make sure that if they see your forces they won't know which base you'll hit.

"Lastly, 9th Battalion should move to rendevous with the 5th Battalion and 3rd Armoured Regiment - you'll be collectively designated Division Alpha. Once you've merged, remain at the 5th Battalion's current position until further notice or unless enemy forces locate and engage you."

The General caught up with Wellington and asked "Do you want us to deploy the Commando Units for now? If more troops are needed they can be ordered to stand-by until an order to move is given" He waited for Wellington's answer

The Halberdgardian Central Intelligence Agency Compound, Somewhere in Halberdgardia, 1304 Local Time

"I have another Monitgnac for you, sir."

The words of Dominic Hatcher, Deputy Director of Central Intelligence, rang out oddly loudly and clearly in the well-shadowed office of his superior. Donovan Whitling, intelligence czar and global architect of intrigue and revolution, was undoubtedly one of the most powerful men in Halberdgardia. And he did not like being unnecessarily disturbed.

But these words piqued his interest. The HCIA's involvement in Monitgnac, supporting pro-democracy rebels against a would-be military dictator leading a coup against the corrupt communist government of that nation, was one of its most successful ops, leading to the dictator's downfall and the establishment of a reformed socialist democracy there. "So we're fighting the good fight for once, Dominic?" Whitling chuckled quietly from the recesses of his high-back leather chair -- Hatcher would describe it more as a throne -- his back to Hatcher, hidden from sight, as usual. "I thought we stopped doing that a long time ago. There is much blood on my hands."

Hatcher shuddered inwardly. Whitling was not known to be a man unduly troubled by mere moral scruples. In this business, it was hard for one to retain one's civilian moralities -- or, indeed, some would say, one's humanity. Setting his misgivings about this unusual occurrence aside for the moment, Hatcher continued as if he had not heard Whitling's words.

"The nation of Trivalvia has been plunged into near-civil-war after its recently-elected president, a man by the name of Tony Harrington, apparently defied a legislative edict to dissolve the government and hold new elections." Hatcher put a manila folder full of satellite imagery of Trivalvian cities and Harrington's forces occupying them, as well as SIGINT intercepts and dossiers of what was known about the principal figures in the conflict, on Whitling's desk. "Harrington is now the de facto dictator of Trivalvia. His predecessor, former Trivalvian president William MacKenzie, is leading a resistance movement from the island of Bivalvia, off the west coast of the mainland, to restore the democratic government."

Whitling was silent for some time. Hatcher waited patiently, knowing the man was given to act in odd ways at times. He was about to query his superior for a response, but Whitling beat him to it.

"Do it. This agency could use another honorable op to its name."

Hatcher had not expected any other response. "Right away, sir," he said. He walked out of the room, glad that he'd convinced Whitling, but also troubled at the man's odd behavior. He shook it from his mind as he sat down in his office and drafted up a communique for MacKenzie's forces. It was bounced through dozens of servers worldwide so as to be untraceable, and Hatcher chose to have a standard, but well-guarded, HCIA alias used for the communique. He was fairly certain Delta One wouldn't mind.

Encrypted Communique

To: Mr. William MacKenzie, the Free Trivalvia Movement
From: Mr. Nevil Clavain

I represent a private entity with interests in international security. My client has been watching the events in Trivalvia with some measure of alarm. In the interest of preserving the rightful government of Trivalvia and as many civilian lives as possible, we are fully prepared to offer your movement a wide variety of military goods -- and in considerable amounts, as well. Our only condition is that you refrain from asking too many questions. My client values privacy very highly, and would be most dismayed if any details of this offer were made public. If you are interested, you may contact me at this address (encrypted traffic only, of course) with further details of what you require.

End Encrypted Communique

Wellington looked at the Alversian officer, glancing back at the map for a moment. "For now, we're not sure where your forces can be deployed for best effect - perhaps once we get more concrete information we'll have a better idea.

"However, your unit will need to be close by if we should have to deploy quickly; I suggest having them flown in to Bivalviaton AFB as soon as possible - we can house them there and they can gain some familiarity with our equipment and protocols."

As the Alversian general walked away to make arrangements, Wellington recieved a call on his minder. It was MacKenzie.

"We just got a communique I think you should read. I'm transmitting it to your minder - care to give me your opinion?"

Wellington read through the Halberdgardian communique. "On the surface it sounds like a good offer," he said at last. "With Isle d'Monovalve going it alone, we could use some ships and fighters - especially some transports so we can ferry troops over to the mainland.

"That said, I have two concerns - first, can we trust this source, and second, how quickly can they get the equipment here."

"Not sure I have any way of answering those concerns," MacKenzie replied. "Do you have a suggestion."

Wellington thought for a moment.

"I'd recommend a test. We could certainly use some fighters right away - we have spare pilots and we need to address Harrington's air superiority. If we can get a spare squadron of multi-role fighters within days it would help us out."

"And if the source is untrustworthy?"

"Probably any betrayal there would be in the form of damaged goods - engineers could find those before we deploy the planes."

"All right. We'll give this a try."

Special Communique:
To: Nevil Clavain
From: William MacKenzie
<Encrypted>
Sir,

We thank you for your offer of support. In terms of military hardware, we would be interested in some multi-role fighter craft to help address air defense. If you can deliver these craft quickly, we can accept them at the following location...

<Specific details follow>
<End Message>

Special Communique:
To: Nevil Clavain
From: William MacKenzie
<Encrypted>
Sir,

We thank you for your offer of support. In terms of military hardware, we would be interested in some multi-role fighter craft to help address air defense. If you can deliver these craft quickly, we can accept them at the following location...

<Specific details follow>
<End Message>

The one thing about War Coalitions is that they remain intensely loyal to each other. A blood debt that is passed from party to party as they help each other. And despite the fact they were a criminal organization, the Red Mafia, its entire existence was owed, perhaps unintentionally to the Halberdgardians.

So when an order came in for two squadrons of F-22 Raptors to be delivered to some righteous rebels, they answered rapidly. Of course this was after payment was confirmed.

A Oil Tanker left an Algeristani Strip port, loaded with the cargo in its tanks. Each aircraft, partially disassembled for ease of transport was inside a large cargo container, and submerged in the oil that filled its tanks. The handsome payment covered all their expenses and the crew found themselves enjoying brand-name foodstuffs and sparkling cider, non-alcoholic of course, as they were forbidden to become inebriated.

The tanker was going to cross the Strait of Gibraltar and pass into the Atlantic, once it reached the coordinates in a few days, it would suffer a mechanical difficulty, dock at a rebel base, sell the oil to pay for repairs and be on its way.

In response to the continuing threat of Civil War by Harrison's Forces, the 3rd Paratroop Regiment is to transported to Bivalviaton AFB along with an Air Platoon of APAAF Eurofighters for protection

May 18, 2009

Selected Transmissions and News Articles

Declaration of Secession

The provincial government of Isle d'Monovalve, seeking to protect its citizens from the threat of civil war, is hereby declaring its secession from the Democratic Republic of Trivalvia and its neutrality in the forming conflict. We bear neither the Nationalist regime currently in power nor the Progressive Democratic Federal party and their supporters any hostility, and will provide humanitarian aid if needed. However, we will not engage in military action against either party in this conflict...

From the Trivalvian national newspaper Trivalvia Today:
Harrington Government Cool to Monovalve Secession

Trivalviapolis [TNP]: The Harrington Government has not issued a formal statement in response to this morning's announcement from the Monovalvian provincial government of its secession from Trivalvia. However, Trivalvia Today has learned that a special meeting between President Harrington and several key military and state officials is being held behind closed doors...

Podcast transmitted across the Orange minder network:

"You are listening to the new voice of freedom in Trivalvia. Every day, on more and more sites, this podcast will expose Harrington's lies and treachery.

"For example, Harrington's claim that the Trivalvian military is solidly behind him is false! Several battalions - including all of the military forces on Bivalve Island - have declared their allegiance to the Constitution of this great country, and have boldly opposed Harrington's call to oppress the Trivalvian people! There are reports that soldiers even within Harrington's 'Nationalist' Forces are unhappy with the state of affairs, and desire to know the truth behind their deployment!

"For those soldiers who wish to know the truth, you are invited to examine our site and speak with our leaders online. Do not let your generals fool you: you have been asked to support an illegal government, held in power not by the will of the people, but by force of arms. Resist their call!

"As for all citizens of Trivalvia: take heart! The fight to restore democracy is far from over! Our numbers are great, and together we can all bring Harrington to justice!"

[OOC: Trivalvia, this is sort of a glorified IC BUMP -- if you don't want Clavain coming in with the goods, I can delete this post.]

The one thing about War Coalitions is that they remain intensely loyal to each other. A blood debt that is passed from party to party as they help each other. And despite the fact they were a criminal organization, the Red Mafia, its entire existence was owed, perhaps unintentionally to the Halberdgardians.

So when an order came in for two squadrons of F-22 Raptors to be delivered to some righteous rebels, they answered rapidly. Of course this was after payment was confirmed.

A Oil Tanker left an Algeristani Strip port, loaded with the cargo in its tanks. Each aircraft, partially disassembled for ease of transport was inside a large cargo container, and submerged in the oil that filled its tanks. The handsome payment covered all their expenses and the crew found themselves enjoying brand-name foodstuffs and sparkling cider, non-alcoholic of course, as they were forbidden to become inebriated.

The tanker was going to cross the Strait of Gibraltar and pass into the Atlantic, once it reached the coordinates in a few days, it would suffer a mechanical difficulty, dock at a rebel base, sell the oil to pay for repairs and be on its way.

The blood debt that led these two nations to cooperate so fully with one another was not only met in the covert shipment of Raptors, but also in another way.

A finely-dressed man named Nevil Clavain (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v465/neotheone175/NationStates/Modern%20Tech/Assassin_Primary.jpg) leaned against a bulkhead on the bridge of the lead Leafanistani freighter. The glare of the high noon sun pouring in through the forward bridge viewport failed to obscure the miniature HUD display in his SmartGun-enhanced (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=9835779&postcount=80) mirrored sunglasses, which linked to the Model 100C submachine gun (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=9835717&postcount=78) hidden in his jacket. He had additional weapons in a silver briefcase locked in his quarters belowdeck...

Which I should have never let out of my sight, he thought, irritated with himself for the minor mistake. Leafanistanis or not, I still don't trust these bastards. He had packed a relatively standard loadout, since he didn't know what kind of ops MacKenzie might call on him for. Hell, he thought, this MacKenzie character might even have too much moral fiber for my kind of business.

Indeed, any enterprising Mafia member who managed to acquire the case would have been well-rewarded: a (disassembled) DSR-1 sniper rifle with an optional silencer and plenty of subsonic ammunition for stealthy kills, .338 Lapua Magnum rounds for situations requiring added punch, and HE rounds for those rare occasions where everything was shot to hell; an additional Model 100C SMG with silencer; a silenced 9mm pistol; and the layer of a classified material that could fool X-rays laid over the bottom compartment of the briefcase that housed the weaponry -- handy for avoiding "unnecessary entanglements" at security checkpoints.

Of course, every crewman in the fleet knew that any Mafia man who acquired the case would also be rewarded with at least three bullets between his eyes.

Nevil Clavain was not a man to be trifled with.

Clavain took another sip of the non-alcoholic sparkling cider the Mafia men had provided him with.

"It's not bad at all," he said aloud to the freighter's captain, raising his glass in the man's direction to show his appreciation. He stepped forward to stand next to the man. "I presume we're making good time," he said pointedly. It was a statement, not a question.

[OOC: Trivalvia, this is sort of a glorified IC BUMP -- if you don't want Clavain coming in with the goods, I can delete this post.]"It's not bad at all," he said aloud to the freighter's captain, raising his glass in the man's direction to show his appreciation. He stepped forward to stand next to the man. "I presume we're making good time," he said pointedly. It was a statement, not a question.

The captain, a tanned Rovonian Refugee looked at his cheap digital watch and spit off the side.

"Aye."

The man then went back to the steering room to shift into a sealane that increased the likelihood of them 'wrecking' near the port they wanted.

The ship, an independent tanker registered to the tiny King Wah Shipping Corporation incorporated in the Si'er Island Chain in eastern Leafanistan, was a newer model, GPS integrated into the ship itself, a shiny new RADAR, a modcop from an outdated Destroyer in the Leafanistani Navy, and finally a 'Sonic Cannon' or a focused Sonic Radiation Device that was designed to repel boarders or pirates.

The men on board never considered stealing the Halberdgardian man's guns, but were instead constantly vigilant around them. It was an oil tanker, surrounded by oil fumes, powered by oil, and lubricated by it, and their food was cooked in oil, and they were all caked in oil. A single spark and this tinderbox would soon be sending splinters to the moon.

Two men with batons guarded the box while playing cards, security personnel were swarming the ship, many of them carrying Bean-bag sawn-off shotguns, using low powder charges. They had some security, and actual shells locked up somewhere, but until someone started shooting bullets down the hall indiscriminately, they were to be careful.

20TH AIRBORNE, DRUNA SASKA MILITARY BASE, ANTIGR

The PA system on the camp crackled is it was switched on.
"Attention, all 20th Airborne 2nd Regiment personnel. Attention, all 20th Airborne 2nd Regiment Personnel.
Please report to the quartermaster for your main and emergency parachutes.
You will need these because the plan has been changed.
The initial forces will be para-dropped, the big stuff will be going to the airfields later.
Anyway, operation Orange Fury is a go!"
As soon as the announcement finished, the drones of Antigran transport aircraft began to be heard as hundreds of men headed toward the QM building.

No more than half an hour later, everything was ready to go.
The men were lined up by the aircraft and a few light tanks were being loaded onto the larger aircraft to be dropped.

General Trent, Naasha's liason with MacKenzie and his loyalist military forces on the Isle Bivalve, was looking rather flushed when he returned to the makeshift war room. He shot a glare at Samuels, the intelligence agent, who returned a helpless shrug to him, both had the dejected look of underlings who had received a good kicking from their higher-ups over something that they felt wasn't their fault.

Trent cleared his throat and addressed the Trivalvians.

"I've just been in touch with the Naashan military chiefs and we have a problem I'm afraid. It seems that the NEAMC did leave some fairly vital equipment in the Sussex base, apparently they withdrew under the assumption that the base would be reopened soon. Our government hasn't called for the return of our own property for fear of drawing attention to it, but there is some computer equipment in there with the capability to access Naashan satellite feeds, even to alter them or provide false directives."

"We purchased our satellite equipment from Dartia, who were setting the NEAMC standard at the time if you recall thanks to their partnerships with Ackistan, Ezaltia and so on. The apparatus at Sussex might not be able to penetrate some of the private satellites of the NEAMC nations but ours are relatively unsecured and dependant upon the NEAMC networks, which are rather decrepit with Dartia's decline."

"The military, and the government, are seriously concerned about Harrington having access to our communications, there's some pretty sensitive stuff bouncing off our dishes apparently. The Prime Minister is under a lot of pressure to act, and wants to pressure you to do the same."

"I know that you are reluctant to involve foreign forces in this affair, but I'm required to let you know that Naashan EB-180 Stargazers will strike the Sussex base within 24 hours unless that equipment can be secured."

The Alversian General thought about this for a moment before answering, "Rather than let a wave of bombers fly over the base and attack, why no tlet us deal with it? We could send a team from the ASCC (Alversian Special Commando's Corps) to hit it for you much more cheaply and discreetly. Our agents are already inside the country so what do you say?"

Wellington called up a map of the NEAMC headquarter facility. "I prefer," he said both to Trent and the Alversian General, "to capture that facility intact. Not only does that deny Harrington access to Naashan satellites but it gives us a chance to take our satellite network back." His grin was a little lopsided as he added, "I think that both your satellite security and ours were designed by the same contractor. We have a similar backdoor in our military satellites."

"If we know about it, so does Pelletier," said one of Wellington's aides, concerned. "What if he tries to close it off?"

"If that was the case, he wouldn't need the NEAMC facility. The backdoor was deliberate in our case - adding a layer of transparency for our allies just in case we got someone in power who decided to abuse our position within the alliance. Funny, isn't it? Almost as if they knew...

"My point is that the backdoor was designed only to accept a transmission from Sussex - the ID codes were hardwired into the computers there. Ah, here we go," he said as the map appeared on the tactical screen built into the table. To the aide he said, "Contact Colonel Zala in Division Gamma and put him in conference at this station."

Wellington turned to the two generals. "Our big problem is the facility is defensible especially if advance warning is recieved. There are gun emplacements and checkpoints here - " he pointed to six structures on the facility's outer perimeter " - and anti-air missile and cannon emplacements here - " pointing to more structures within the base."

"Now most of the base structures are above ground, although the main and auxilliary power plants were placed below ground, making them less vulnerable to aerial bombardment. Satellite uplink is here, and the main command structure is located here, right in the center."

"Sir. Colonel Zala is on the speaker."

Wellington nodded. "Colonel, glad to have you with us. We're going to have to move forward with Operation Blindfold; given the time constraint this is going to have to be both strategy session and mission briefing. I'm forwarding a map of the operation area to you right now."

"Yes sir."

"Our first priority should be to blind enemy satellite and radar coverage." Wellington turned to the Alversian General. "Your covert team will be essential for this part - if you can get one of our techs into the command structure, he should be able to access the backdoor and shut our satellites down. Some of your team can enter the base radar station - here - and take it out of operation. I prefer that your men leave the building and equipment in an easy-to-repair condition; if this works as planned we should have control of the base before Harrington's men get the chance to get the radar back up.

"Now we don't know how long we'll have once the satellites go down before the enemy can reactivate them so - Colonel Zala, you'll need to position Division Gamma to attack the base and overwhelm any defenders there once we recieve word the satellites are down. Any intel on how many men are located there?"

"Yes sir. I've had some recon teams scouting the base - they report roughly two companies of infantry but no tanks. There might be some AT weaponry with the infantry though."

"What about reinforcements?"

"There's still a battalion of infantry in the city of Sussex itself, and there's also the 10th Armoured at Sussex GFB. The 10th is farthest from the base at present."

"And we still don't have a clear picture on their loyalties. So count on infantry reinforcements to arrive and possible tank backup, worst-case.

"In that case, our plan B will be to deny the enemy use of the facility. If we can't retain control of the base, our forces should make every attempt to take out the AA emplacements. General Trent, if that occurs your bombers should be able to get in and flatten the base, though please give my troops time to get clear if it does come to this.

"That's the basic plan. Questions?"

The General smiled "The ASCC can easily perform that task. We have about a dozen members in the country and can easily dispatch more, discreetly. We have infiltated Harrington's Army and can get men loyal to us to man some of the emplacements to create a weak link in the line. Don't worry General, the mission will be carried out"

"Thank you, I'll be able to hold off on our airstrikes for the time being if a mission to recapture the base is imminent."

"What about enemy air support? Is there a nationalist fighter squadron nearby?"

SOMEWHERE, TRIVALVIA

Lieutenant Dixon gripped onto the cords attaching him to his parachute.
He looked down.
The ground was coming up fast.
Textbook landing.
He crumpled, pulled out his MP-45 submachine-gun, cocked it, and flicked the selector switch to full auto.
A few of his men landed near to him, and, after uncovering some Sabre II assault rifles and a Ranger Tactica III M4A2 automatic shotgun.
"Frank, where are we?" Dixon said to the sergeant, Raymore.
"Beats me. This doesn't look like in the photos....."
Then, an unmistakable sound. A low squealing of tracks, a loud engine buzzing closer and closer.
The men edged toward a hedge.
I wish Carris were here with his AT rocket...
Dixon hid behind a tree.
The tank burst through a stone wall, a lump of stone missing Raymore by inches.
Private Thompson suddenly broke cover, leaping up onto the tank and pointing the shotgun at the vehicle commander.
"Bit unfriendly, are we?" Came an antigran accent, belonging to the gunner who'd popped up through his hatch.
"Ooops"
Dixon got a good look at the vehicle. It was a Kraker CLR light tank from General Weapons Corp., Antigr.
"Ahh" Said thompson, backing off. "No medal for me then"
The sergeant spoke up.
"Could you give us a hitch to the rest of the company? We're supposed to move in to the nearest town"

OOC: Could this be responded to please? As in, an ally soldier spotting antigran tanks, or something like that.

Agent Samuels frowned as he looked at the latest satellite images sent to his PDA via the Naashan intelligence department, it was disturbing knowing that Harrington could be looking at the exact same pictures right now, as these were taken from an NEA networked satellite.

More worrying than that though, were several objects circled in red. These tanks, and in one case, a parachute, did not look to be Trivalvian. In fact, an eagle eyed analyst back in Naasha had suggested that they were Antigran. Samuels had heard nothing of any Antigran involvement, and why on earth Antigran tanks would be rolling around the Trivalvian countryside when no other nation had yet commited anything stronger than a commando unit was beyond him.

He caught Wellington's eye and showed him the pictures.

"Whose are these?"

Wellington was examining the map. "The Sussex AFB is right next to the complex itself; that means we can expect enemy air support as soon as the attack begins. Any other enemy air assets will be operating at extreme range. Surprise will be our biggest angle - if we can get our troops onto the base grounds, the planes will risk hitting defenders and the buildings themselves... Unless... Colonel Zala?"

"Sir?"

"We'll have to make taking or disabling Sussex AFB a primary objective. Can you spare forces to do so while storming the NEAMC facility?"

A pause while the Colonel no doubt consulted with his subordinates. "Yes sir, we can. I can probably spare a couple of companies for the operation."

At this moment, Samuels had brought the updated pictures to Wellington's attention, and Wellington responded with a short curse. "What are they playing at?" He turned to an aide. "Get Mackenzie on the line and tell him we have Antigran military assets in the country. Find out what's happening."

To the Alversians Wellington said, "We'd better get things moving now. Get your men into position. Coordinate with Colonel Zala in the field, but I'd recommend disabling - " he looked over the facility map " - the emplacements to the east. Zala can move his forces in there and take emplacements elsewhere intact; that will be essential should there be a counterattack. Colonel Zala, we've just had some developments force our hand. Prepare to start Operation Blindfold within the next four hours."

"We'll be ready, sir."

The aide spoke up. "Sir? MacKenzie has just confirmed the Antigrans involvement, although he is as surprised as we are about the presence of tanks. He's handling the political end and says not to worry."

Wellington nodded. At least the Antigrans were friendly, still... "Thanks, although do remind him that I prefer to be informed in advance of these developments, and make sure we get a line of communication with those forces ASAP."

* * *

At the same time, in Trivalviapolis:

"Those damn Frogs!" Harrington paced angrily in his office, with General Pelletier and Admiral Levitt looking on. "I always knew that having Isle d'Monovalve maintain a 'distinct society' would be bad."

"It does pose a thorny problem for us," Pelletier said. "We can't enforce a full blockade or invasion of Bivalve Island so long as Isle d'Monovalve maintains its 'sovereign status' - that would leave a corridor where relief supplies or even foreign reinforcements can enter.

"What is worse, our satellite network has confirmed that a Naashan carrier group is en route to Bivalve Island. They could be here within days."

Harrington scowled. "The Naashans are denying interference, of course, but they're also querying about those journalists we detained... Any word from our tech teams at the NEA complex?"

"They're still working on getting the equipment back in working order - but they should be able to attempt to crack NEA satellite codes within three hours, minimum."

"Tell them to get working on getting into Naashan satellites soonest. Meanwhile, those journalists are not going back to their homeland just yet - we might be able to use them as leverage."

Admiral Levitt stepped forward. "Sir, if I may recommend a further course of action - if we can reclaim Isle d'Monovalve and capture its military assets intact, we can keep the Naashans out and tighten the noose around Bivalve Island. I can dispatch the Atlantic Battlegroup from the Quadrivalve Archipelago immediately; that gives us a battalion of marines. Once the marines take the airbase on the island, we can start airlifting regular troops from New Moncton."

"That might leave New Moncton open to insurgent attack," Pelletier said. "We know there is an enemy force operating in the area."

"The successful capture of Isle d'Monovalve might demoralize them," Levitt replied.

Harrington agreed. "Make it happen, Admiral. But make it happen before the Naashans arrive."

"Sir!" Levitt saluted and left.

* * *

Military Prison Seven, New Moncton GFB.

The three Naashan journalists were herded down a corridor by two guards.

"Why are we moving them to high security," said one of the guards to the other. "The place is crowded already with 'political prisoners'."

"That's 'enemy combatants'," said the other with a scowl. "And watch what you say," he added with a nod in the Naashan's direction."

They reached a cell. "One occupant here; we can hold them in this cell for now. Hey, Carter! You got some roomies!"

The Naashans were herded into the room. Guard one said, "I'm sorry about this. It'll be over soon... I hope."

The door was locked and then the Naashans were left alone with their cellmate. The cellmate stirred and looked at the newcomers. "Welcome to my humble abode. Sorry the accomodations are so spartan." She straightened up on her bunk and saluted. "Yvonne Carter, former Admiral of the Fleet. Pleased to meet you."

King Wah Supertanker, Arguably in International Waters

The alarm started blaring very loudly, it was a powerful klaxon meant to be deafening enough to reach all parts of the ship even the crowded and hot engine room.

The crew went through the ship's bowels, placing small acid charges on several non-vital 'vital' pipes. The resulting damage caused the ship's control center to begin declaring they were losing hydraulic pressure. A crewman ran up to the Halberdgardian agent, in his hands were some roughed up papers, with his picture and an King Wah ID.

"For you sir, in case they ask anything funny."

At the same time, many crewmen were rushing around with similar papers for his guards and the crew were putting on their flotation vests to appear as a true stricken vessel.

The ship broadcast a mayday and turned Trivalvian waters, their physical maps unable to understand the revolution in the part of the country they were heading toward. At the same time, a burst message from Mafia headquarters, heavily encrypted of course, arrived to the 'freedom fighters.'

ENCRYPTED MESSAGE

SHIP EN ROUTE STOP THEY WILL SELL THE OIL TO YOU TO BUY "REPAIRS" STOP YOU CAN PICK UP PLANES THEN STOP ENJOY SOME FREE LIGHT CRUDE OIL STOP YOU NEED TO REFINE IT FIRST THOUGH STOP

[END]

[OOC: Just for future reference, what with all the aliases for my character flying around, I use Delta One and Nevil Clavain interchangeably to refer to him, but I'll generally call him Clavain when he's around others and Delta One when he's alone or performing a hit.]

A crewman ran up to the Halberdgardian agent, in his hands were some roughed up papers, with his picture and an King Wah ID.

"For you sir, in case they ask anything funny."

At the same time, many crewmen were rushing around with similar papers for his guards and the crew were putting on their flotation vests to appear as a true stricken vessel.

Clavain nodded and took the papers. Everything was in order, and would pass under a reasonable amount of scrutiny. His false identity papers declared him to be one Alexander Sylvington, a high-level King Wah executive here to negotiate an exclusive deal with the MacKenzie Administration in Trivalvia; the "bad intel" would give him a plausible cover to be looking for the man. He could only hope there were really none of Harrington's men on Bivalve Island. If he ran into trouble regarding the authenticity of his papers, things would get very messy, very quickly. He was entirely confident of being able to handle virtually anything he might come up against, but it would be more bodies and scrutiny than he would like. He needed to stay off Harrington's grid for now.

Leaving the captain and crew of the ship to rouse up a convincing picture of chaos aboard the freighter, Clavain left the bridge, tucking the King Wah papers in a suit pocket as he walked. He walked at a swift clip, descending a narrow set of stairs belowdeck and through several equally-narrow corridors full of frenzied Mafia crewmen until he reached his spartan stateroom. He opened up his briefcase and took out the set of various vials and tools that comprised his forensics kit. It wasn't for combing a scene for evidence -- indeed, it was the opposite, designed to wipe any area clean of any incriminating evidence that could be used to trace him. He rapidly wiped down his stateroom, then replaced the tools in the briefcase. He took one last look in the dirty, slightly-cracked mirror hung on a decrepit bulkhead and straightened his jacket and tie.

The consummate businessman, he thought to himself. His large silver briefcase was filled with confidential business documents and models of King Wah products, of course. He smiled the cold and cruel smile of a killer.

I do a slightly different kind of business.

Nevil Clavain exited the room, leaving no trace of his presence behind, never to return again.

Nevil Clavain exited the room, leaving no trace of his presence behind, never to return again.

OOC: King Wah is a shipping company and runs a series of small oil and natural gas rigs. Your book should be filled with models of their ships and prices.

It was at this point the captain came in. He took out a jar of skin flakes, hairs, and an eye dropper filled with sweat.

He went over the bed, and starting sprinkling all over the room. Then as a last touch, he rubbed his dandruff onto the pillow.

A well trained forensic, even a Republican Guard 'hoover' would find only evidence of the captain enjoying a nap in a fancy stateroom when he wasn't on the bridge.

The ASCC Commando's began to creep towards the facility. They could see the troops patrolling the fence and manning the HMG's near the gates. One of the HMG's signalled to the four commandos. They crept forward, using the cover to avoid detection. The HMG gunners saluted as the men walked past them into the facilty. They were in. Now they had to find the comms room.

A TOWN, TRIVALVIA

The Kraker CLR began to slow down as a small town came into veiw. It looked like a nice, quiet place.
A few civilians looked puzzled, welcoming, or slightly scared, depending on whether the person realised that these weren't Harrington's forces or not.
The CLRs and jeeps sped through the place, going no slower than the Kraker CLR's maximum speed of 53.4mph.
The speed was a good thing, as it could get the tank away from any serious combat before the compact 90mm had to be put into action, which was only useable against the sides and rear of an MBT.
Hopefully it wouldn't encounter any such thing.
Soon, the convoy, every available bit of space on every vehicle having a soldier on it, came to a rest at some kind of large paved area.
There were just a few shops dotted around the edges.
Major-General Dirk Franklin jumped down from a jeep.
General Franklin was almost like the famed General Sandrez.
General Sandrez was like Antigr's equivalent of Rommel.
Always with the troops, and a great and well-respected commander.
Even his Rank of Four-Star General wouldn't keep him behind a desk.
Franklin was just younger and not as well-developed.
He beckoned to the second highest-ranking officer, Major Keel Rockingham, as he got down from a truck-cum-communications-and-commande vehicle.
The Major went over to the General, who began to talk softly.
"Now, listen, Keel. While the troops are unloading the equipment, I want you to take a small detachment and go and talk to the civilians.
I want you to make sure they know who we are. Next..."

"General, Sir!" A man yelled from Rockingham's truck as he sprinted toward him. "Radio-Telephone for you. There's a Trivalvian guy on the other end, wants to know what the hell we're doing"

"How the hell did they get our frequencies?" Franklin said, exchanging clances with the Major.
Both ran toward the truck.

The guard gurgled and choked as the last drops of blood left his cut throat and fell the floor, closely followed by the guard. The Commando nodded and his team mates crept down the corridor. One of the Guards came around the corner and froze as he spotted the four men. He never got the chance to shout a warning, the knife connecting between his eyes, finishing him off before he could open his mouth. The Commandos were getting closer.

OOC: Is the aim of this mission to retake the facility or destroy it?

Military Prison Seven, New Moncton GFB

Seeing the shyness of her two male companions, Sandy spoke up for the group, she was the presenter after all.

"Sandy Hughes, we're from N1 News in Naasha. You'll have to excuse us, the crew is still a little shaken up from this."

Never missing a chance on a story however, she decided to press on.

"You used to be Admiral of the Trivalvian fleet?"

Sixth Carrier Group, somewhere near Trivalvia

Admiral Lawrence Grant cursed as he knocked the second cup of coffee over himself in as many days. The weather over the Atlantic had not yet abated and the fleet was being forced to battle its way through the rolling troughs and swells of an angry ocean.

They were a day out... just a day out of striking distance of both the Isle d'Monovalve and Bivalve. The weather was beginning to clear up, choppy seas would make aircraft launch and recovery difficult but not impossible, and they needed the air cover.

As for reinforcements, the Third was steaming out of Gibraltar right about now, but Green wasn't keen to see them arrive. The Naashan admiral, whoever they were, would doubtless want to take charge despite having the exact same rank and fleet size. His own fleet consisted of two Nimitz Class carriers and two Dauntless Class heavy battleships, plus an air complement of F-18E Super Hornets and F-14 Tomcats. The usual escort fleet and attack submarines too of course. Hardly enough to fight a war with these days, but a sizeable deterrent nonetheless.

(OOC: Alversia - the aim is to secure the base. As Wellington mentioned in the briefing, your team should be smuggling in a Trivalvian communications tech who will be able to use the equipment there to blind the Nationalist-controlled satellite network. Base destruction is a last resort).

IC:

Petty Officer Lise Roberts cringed as she watched the commandos kill both guards. She knew they were now 'the enemy', but... it still hurt seeing her own countrymen die.

She turned away from the scene to check the small case she carried. Less than an hour before the commandos now escorting her had shown up at the camp where she was stationed, carrying the case and sealed orders from General Wellington himself. Lise never considered herself hero material, having preferred to serve in the military in the supposedly safe area of communications, but now she was on a mission that could free her country - or doom it if she failed.

Inside the case were a series of security codes, loaded onto a CD, that she needed to get into the NEAMC mainframe still in the base. Once loaded, the codes would grant her access to the Trivalvian satellite network, which she would then have to reroute their transmissions to the uplink complex in Bivalviaton AFB. Failing that, she would have to shut the network down and lock it out completely.

Not the simplest assignment, but technically straightforward. I can do this. She risked a glance at the dead bodies. If only the technical part of this mission wasn't the easiest part...

* * *

Strickland Harbour, on the west coast of Bivalve Island:

In earlier times, Strickland Harbour was one of several ports that could accept oil tankers. With the move towards a methanol fuel infrastructure, many of those ports had closed down or adapted to accept other imports. Strickland was the only one on the west coast that could still accept crude oil, even if the demand wasn't as great.

Which made it the only spot where the Leafanistani freighter could dock without arising suspicion. Flatbed trucks had arrived and were waiting inside some of the larger warehouses by the docks. They would accept the F-22 planes and cart them to the nearby airport, where pilots would take them to the airbases on the island. With luck, the satellite network would be down before the transfer took place, keeping Harrington in the dark about the fresh supplies.

Still, the guards and techs dispatched to recieve the shipment were nervous; an enemy airstrike or attack from the sea could come at any time, and they would have no warning...

The Commandos slit two more throats in the Comm room itself and also knifed another who heard the commotion. They set up positions around the room entrances to cover them while the Technician got to work.
----------------------
Further away, the Paratroops were awaiting the signal from the Commandos to launch the attack. There would be little bloodshed as many of the Guards had already agreed not to resist the attack. It should be a minor operation but one of great importance.

Fighter Command, Samka

Meanwhile, at the northernmost airbase on Naashan soil, a wing of five SB-22 Sariels from the 5th Tactical Bomber Squadron warmed up on the tarmac. The sovereignty of the Naashan satellites was to be held dear, if the Trivalvian and Alversian forces failed to take control of the NEA technology then it could not be allowed to fall back into enemy hands.

OOC: I'll be going in to "pacify the lands".

IC:

Official Diplomatic Communique

http://i181.photobucket.com/albums/x204/Sgt-Alex/OfficialSealTWSP.gif
To: The Former Trivalvian President, Mr. Harrington
From: Alejandro Aszenmil, President of the World Soviet Party

Enough of this Mr. Harrington, you have been allowed to do whatever you want for to long, your presidency has not only been bad for the economy (which you have set back in years!), but you've also been terrible for your people, the world, and general image of the Nova Europa Region.
Thus, we are issuing an ultimatum, step down now, and order your forces to surrender, if not, we'll be forced to take military action against you and help former president McKenzie in his struggle.
I repeat, go to your nearest airport, take a fly up to Red City, and surrender, your life will be spared and you'll be given a fair trial. Do it, or we'll be forced to go down there and get you ourselves, and trust me, you dont want that.

Signed,
Alejandro Aszenmil, President of The World Soviet Party.

NEAMC Complex

Lise Roberts sat down at the console, and got to work. The first layers of security were easy enough to bypass. Before long she was in the satellite access and control menus.

A look at the information displayed on the screen told her all she needed to know... and more than she feared. The techs in the main complex had just broken through the Naashan security codes. Within minutes, the Naashan satellite network would be theirs.

This called for drastic measures.

Lise took a CD out of the case, this one labelled with black and yellow stripes, and inserted it into the console. A few seconds to copy the programs within into the right folders and then...

She smiled as, in the distance, alarms began to sound. Right now, the interface programs in the main complex were being eaten alive. The core operating system would still be intact, but the only way to access it now was from this room.

The bad news was that it wouldn't take long for the techs and guards to realize this. They would have visitors very soon. She popped out the CD and inserted a second one, this one containing the codes needed to complete her mission.

Access Trivalvian SatNet... ID Code Required... Code NEA-Override, Authorization Sequence 3122-Vermillion-2058-7222...

The commandos stirred as the sound of soldiers running in the corridor reached them. Lise gulped and worked faster.

Code accepted. Instructions: reroute all Satnet signals to Uplink ID 26. Coordinates...

"Hey, open up in there!" Pounding could be heard from the door.

Signals rerouted. Disable Naashan override code, authorization sequence 4519-Lavender-0018-D428...

Naashan Override disabled.

Enable OS Total-Wipe. WARNING: Crucial files and programs could be lost! Are you sure? [Y][N]

The pounding became regular and very loud. The guards must have brought a battering ram. Lise was now truly scared. She didn't want to die...

[Y] Enter Authorization Code. Code 000-Destruct-0 Code Accepted. Total Wipe commencing...

"We're done!" she said to the commandos. "Signal the strike teams and let's get out of here!" She grabbed both CD's and brought the butt of her pistol down on to them.

[OOC: I'll think of an appropriate response to TWSP's ultimatum. For now, let's see how the "Battle of Sussex" turns out... :mp5:]

The door burst open and Guards came flooding into the room. Three were cut down by SMG Fire and the rest were forced to take cover. One of the commandos smiled and pressed a small button in his hand...

One if the trucks in the compound outside was thrown high into the air by the explosion, scattering Guards everywhere to avoid the flying debris. The Paratroops began to move forward towards the friendly parts of the frontier. Those Guards who didn't want tofight just threw down their weapons and those that wanted to resist were cut down. Within an hour, the facility was theirs. The Paratroops began to man to positions outside the camp and mine it to repel any armour...

Losses
12 Trivalvians Killed
14 Trivalvians Wounded
4 Alversians Killed
6 Alversians Wounded

[OOC: going to see if I can wrap a few threads together here. However, Alversia, just FYI, your paratroopers were supposed to be *supporting* my force, not leading the charge!]

IC:

Outside the NEAMC facility:

Colonel Zala heard the explosion in the distance. He brought up a pair of binoculars and noticed the rising smoke against the darkening evening sky.

Damn, they're early.

He called to his subordinates, "Are our forces in position?"

"They are. But our tanks are almost out of fuel."

And they were almost out of rations, their troops were running on little sleep, and they didn't have any extra supplies of ammo. Zala knew they were attacking in a depleted state.

But what choice do we have?

"We've recieved the signal," he declared. "Order our troops to advance. Victory and Freedom, or Death!"

Trivalviapolis

Harrington ground his teeth as his aide read the ultimatium from the World Soviet Party. "Damn it all! Well, I'm not rolling over. Have a press conference scheduled. I'm going to give those Reds a piece of my mind."

"With respect, sir, is that wise?" The aide looked a little shaken. "We're not exactly up to fighting a major power."

"This is about the purity and strength of this country. This is about principle!" Harrington slammed a fist on his desk. "We back down now, everything we've sacrificed in the past few days will be for nothing!"

"Everything... like the rule of law?" the aide muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, sir. I'll schedule the conference."

A buzz sounded from Harrington's phone. "Sir, I have General Pelletier on the line."

"Put him through." Harrington picked up the phone and listened to Pelletier's report. The satellites no longer responding, all contact lost with their teams at the NEAMC facility and Sussex AFB...

Harrington felt the blood drain from his face.

Sussex AFB

"Scramble! Scramble! All pilots to your planes. Enemy forces on base!" Pandemonium reigned as two gun emplacements went up in smoke. Five MBT-25 tanks, followed by two APCs made their way to the runways, while other APCs streamed for the control tower and hangers, their mounted machine guns suppressing any defenders.

The F-39 Copperheads were taxiing to the runways while the tanks and infantry set themselves up. While none possessed any real means of shooting down planes while in flight, they were very good at suppressing planes still on the ground. The attackers hoped the pilots would realize this too, and surrender. The Major in charge of the attack issued his ultimatium over loudspeaker and radio: power down and surrender, or be destroyed.

One wing of planes attempted to defy the order, rushing two tanks and a section of infantry. The lead plane made a perfect target for the tanks' cannons, and was flaming wreckage in seconds. A second plane was hit by the debris and spun out of control... ramming into one of the tanks. The resulting explosion destroyed the tank and killed or injured the exposed infantry.

The remaining three planes attempted to take off over the wreckage. One failed, it's landing gear catching the burning chassis of the tank, burying its nose into the runway on the other side. A second explosion followed the first, disabling the surviving tank. The remaining two planes got away.

Elsewhere, infantry were taking the surrendered pilots into custody. There was still a pitched battle being fought in the control tower, but the conclusion was the same as with the NEAMC facility. The base was theirs.

Losses:
Free Trivalvian forces: 21 infantry, 2 tanks (1 destroyed, 1 disabled)
Nationalist Forces: 32 infantry, 3 pilots and planes destroyed. 15 planes captured.

Strickland Harbour, on the west coast of Bivalve Island:

In earlier times, Strickland Harbour was one of several ports that could accept oil tankers. With the move towards a methanol fuel infrastructure, many of those ports had closed down or adapted to accept other imports. Strickland was the only one on the west coast that could still accept crude oil, even if the demand wasn't as great.

Which made it the only spot where the Leafanistani freighter could dock without arising suspicion. Flatbed trucks had arrived and were waiting inside some of the larger warehouses by the docks. They would accept the F-22 planes and cart them to the nearby airport, where pilots would take them to the airbases on the island. With luck, the satellite network would be down before the transfer took place, keeping Harrington in the dark about the fresh supplies.

Still, the guards and techs dispatched to recieve the shipment were nervous; an enemy airstrike or attack from the sea could come at any time, and they would have no warning...

IC:

The docking was a normal procedure, and their deep ports allowed the large ship to dock easily. As the last drops of oil drained out of the massive tanks the cranes on the port opened up the tanks, and removed the oily containers. They were quickly covered with tarps and tied down to tractor trailers.

GPS jammers came online and tried to blind any satellites that were over the area. The ship's repairs were easy and they quickly switched out for pipes that worked. The captain watched as his satellite connected computer read that full payment had arrived for the ships contents.

The captain announced no shore leave, and they weren't to leave the ship. As soon as the transfer was done and Mr. Cavail said they could go.

National Assembly Building, Sandya

Darren Renner slammed his fist down on the table as he read the latest report from the foreign office. Harrington's Trivalvians were still stalling over the N1 reporters in their custody, the Prime Minister usually hated reporters but he was inclined to make an exception to the plucky crew that had bravely filmed the early stages of Harrington's defiance.

Even attempts to get them extradited back to Naasha on assorted made-up charges had failed, the Trivalvians simply weren't listening. Election time was coming up, a bad time to have Naashan citizens stranded abroad in a nation engulfed by civil war. It was time to make a big, official statement and let the public know that the government was trying.

Official Diplomatic Communique
To: Mr Harrington, Former President of Trivalvia.
From: Darren Renner, Prime Minister of Naasha.

While Naasha has no wish to see conflict on Nova Europan soil, we are inclined to support our friends in the World Soviet Party and call for your immediate surrender of your office. We are disappointed to learn that your own government has attempted to gain access to NEA and even Naashan military satellites, an act which we view as a gross violation of our national sovereignty.

Furthermore, attempts to locate the three Naashan journalists placed into 'protective custody' by your government have failed and we view your stalling over this matter as unacceptable. Dozens of requests for their release have been made, it is time to make demands. If the Naashan journalists are not released immediately then we will take military action to secure their freedom.

We feel that the presence of a Naashan Carrier Group off your coast is an adequate signal of our intent, they will be joined shortly by a second and even a third if necessary. If YOU make it necessary that is.

Sincerely,
Darren Renner
Prime Minister

Military Prison Seven, New Moncton GFB

The past hour had been a series of revelations as Sandy and Yvonne talked. Yvonne had run afoul of Harrington six months previously, after the order had come down to sink Trivalvia's three light aircraft carriers. The admiral had stormed into Harrington's office, demanding an explanation, and the meeting had gone downhill from there.

Yvonne had planned to resign in protest and go to the papers, but before she could do so, two MPs had arrived at her office, and arrested her. No charges had ever been laid, and her requests for a lawyer had gone unanswered.

Sandy's story, however - of martial law being imposed, of resistance and even a divided military - stunned Yvonne. Even more surprising was the news of William MacKenzie being at the head of the resistance movement, and General Wellington having sided with him.

And to think I had given up on him, Yvonne thought. From her perspective, MacKenzie had vanished from sight after his defeat two years earlier. Still... If I could only get out there!

Trivalviapolis

Harrington took a sip of water, then faced the cameras.

"Two hours ago, this administration recieved an ultimatium from the World Soviet Party, demanding the dissolution of our government and the instatement of their puppet, William MacKenzie, in place of our duly elected leadership. This was followed by a demand from the Naashan government, in support of this new breed of Soviet aggression.

"These blatant attacks on our sovereign right to exist in peace cannot be accepted. We will fight for this country, to the last man, woman, and child, if need be. To the aggressors who seek to take away our freedoms, do your worst!"

He continued in this vein, exhorting citizens to support his government, decrying attacks and demonstrations as "supporting the Red Menace", for several more minutes, before his speech ended. He refused questions, and left the podium quickly.

Once he was back in the safety of his office, did he begin to shake with fear.

Bivalviaton AFB

The "War Room" had transformed in the past hour from a calm, orderly flow of information and orders to a flood of chaotic activity. The euphoria at the success of Operation Blindfold had thinned in the wake of the Naashan and World Soviet declarations, and vanished completely when Harrington's response went live.

Wellington called a council of war. Present in the room were, of course, generals from both Alversia and Naasha, and they were working on keeping the Antigran commander, a Major-General Dirk Franklin, on the line, and getting the World Soviet Party military command on line as well.

Attempts were also being made to contact the provincial government in Isle d'Monovalve. Now that the Trivalvian satellite network was under their control, Wellington's staff had noticed the departure of the Atlantic battlegroup from Quadrivalve Island NFB. Field recon reports from Free forces outside of New Moncton also confirmed troop movements there, ships and planes being loaded. It was apparent that an invasion of the island was imminent, and oddly unaffected by the recent political upheavals.

At least the shipment of F-22s had arrived as promised; Wellington had breathed a sigh of relief when the tests had come clear. He had also recieved an offer of services from the same 'Nevil Clavain" who had overseen the delivery. Wellington had passed on the request to William MacKenzie, who might be better suited to dealing with Clavain, especially now that Wellington had a true shooting war to oversee.

Sussex, provincial capital of East Trivalve

Corporal Tallman clutched his rifle nervously as he and his section-mates faced the protestors. It seemed uncanny, but no sooner had they recieved the order to retake Sussex AFB, when the city of eleven million had erupted into mass demonstrations. Placards declaring support for MacKenzie, and demanding Harrington's arrest, stood above the sea of people. Most either wore green armbands or waved green flags. The police were taking a back seat to the whole affair, and Tallman felt certain that the battalion was on its own.

Tallman had not been one of the soldiers that had fired into civilians only days earlier, and today he found himself wanting to flee. This is going to be a bloodbath, he thought.

"Hey, look!" One of the privates next to him pointed. Tallman looked - and whooped. Tanks were coming down the streets. Pretty soon the crowds would see them and panic...

Or... Tallman stared, unbelieving.

Or start cheering?

Indeed many of the civilians were opening a path for the tanks. Applause, hoots and hollers, all reached the corporals ears as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Those tanks were from the 10th Armoured, he thought, recognizing the markings. Weren't they on the same side...?

And then he saw what he'd overlooked. The green flag hanging off of the tank's main cannon.

They'd switched sides, Tallman thought, his morale broken at the sight. He looked around, caught the eyes of his sergeant. The sergeant shook his head, then put down his rifle and raised his hands. Tallman and the others followed suit.

Bivalviaton AFB

William MacKenzie was speaking on his minder as he entered the War Room. "Thanks for the news, Premier. Glad to have you back with us. We'll be coordinating efforts to take care of whatever Nationalist pockets remain."

He shut off his minder and addressed the people present. "Everyone, I'm pleased to announce that Sussex has been liberated with no casualties. The provincial government is assuming authority and has rescinded the martial law order. East Trivalve is free once more!"

Cheers from many of the staff. Wellington looked up from where he was conversing with the other generals. "We may have to worry about Nationalist reprisals. There are at least six battalions still in that province.

"If you can coordinate with the World Soviet forces, I'm sure you can remove that threat. Still - one battalion has surrendered already, and a tank regiment has signed on with us. It's nice to have something go right for a change." He grinned, and Wellington grinned back. For the first time, it felt like they could win this one.

"Sir?" MacKenzie turned to where Samantha, always the professional, stood with her minder. "I have someone wanting to speak to you.

"It's Tony Harrington."

Silence descended in the room. MacKenzie nodded. "Patch him through." He picked up his own minder, taking a second to check the web links and their oh-so-satisfying reports from other pro-democracy groups through the country, before activating the phone function. "MacKenzie here. I'm surprised you called."

"Consider this my 'olive branch'," came Harrington's voice over the phone. "I've underestimated you, MacKenzie. You have some very powerful friends, and more support from the common people than I imagined. You have earned my respect."

"I wasn't aiming for it," MacKenzie said, motioning to Samantha. She understood and touched some controls on her minder. Harrington's voice soon resounded through the War Room.

"This is no time for us to be fighting. Your former allies are threatening invasion. If our two sides continue to fight each other, we will not have anything left to preserve the country we both love.

"If you were to order your forces to stand down, convince the people to support me, I would be willing to offer you a place in my government. Your voice, William, your voice would be a powerful influence in the new order, second only to my own. I can even name you my successor."

"I'm not interested in ruling, Harrington."

"Then name your price. Whatever you want, but end this insurrection before they attack. Think of the people who would die in this war."

"I am thinking of the people, Harrington. More than you are, I would warrant. My 'price' is nothing less than your surrender."

"You're dooming this country to destruction and occupation!"

"Wrong. You're dooming the country. I'm trying to save as much as I can." And with that, he cut the connection.

Trivalviapolis

Harrington took a sip of water, then faced the cameras.

"Two hours ago, this administration recieved an ultimatium from the World Soviet Party, demanding the dissolution of our government and the instatement of their puppet, William MacKenzie, in place of our duly elected leadership. This was followed by a demand from the Naashan government, in support of this new breed of Soviet aggression.

"These blatant attacks on our sovereign right to exist in peace cannot be accepted. We will fight for this country, to the last man, woman, and child, if need be. To the aggressors who seek to take away our freedoms, do your worst!"

He continued in this vein, exhorting citizens to support his government, decrying attacks and demonstrations as "supporting the Red Menace", for several more minutes, before his speech ended. He refused questions, and left the podium quickly.

Once he was back in the safety of his office, did he begin to shake with fear.

Bivalviaton AFB

The "War Room" had transformed in the past hour from a calm, orderly flow of information and orders to a flood of chaotic activity. The euphoria at the success of Operation Blindfold had thinned in the wake of the Naashan and World Soviet declarations, and vanished completely when Harrington's response went live.

Wellington called a council of war. Present in the room were, of course, generals from both Alversia and Naasha, and they were working on keeping the Antigran commander, a Major-General Dirk Franklin, on the line, and getting the World Soviet Party military command on line as well.


Red City, The World Soviet Party

"...the aggressors who seek to take away our freedoms, do your worst!"

The TV was turned off by the President himself, who sat on a comfortable leather sofa, he put down the controller and looked up to General Nathan Andrets.

"Well Nate, it looks like we'll have to do it, do your worst, but remember, no civilian casualties"

"Yes sir!"- The general was happy, really happy, he had long pressed for an intervention against Harrington's goverment, and now, finally, he would have the chance to show the impostor how NEA dealt with rogues. He stormed off the room, slamming the door behind him.

Just then, an aide knocked the door and went it.

"Sir, we are getting a communication from President McKenzie"

"Well, patch him through"

Air Force Base Nº 2, Near Luluville

The base had gone from red alert to full combat status in mere minutes, it was bustling with life as thousands of engineers and pilots ran back and forth from their bombers, preparing them for the incoming campaign in Trivalvia, their objectives would to completely annihilate Harrington's forces in the mainland, and if possible, Harrington himself.

Somewhere in the Atlantic

Admiral Grant's Sixth Carrier Group were now able to form up into a proper formation, the destroyers and Ticonderoga Class Cruisers quickly reforming the protective layers around the two carriers as the warships left the rough seas of the Atlantic behind and penetrated the coastal waters of Trivalvia.

The flight deck of the flagship, NNS Jewel of the Deserts, was already bustling with activity as the first F-14's were launched into the fading skies. The crew had met the governments proclamation with a kind of grim determination, they knew that for all the blustering and sabre rattling, it was they who had to fight Harrington's forces.

The satellite feed had been lost for a few hours as they cleared the last of the squalls, but now it returned, the first pictures of the naval base at Quadrivalve Island were disturbing, the Atlantic Battlegroup nowhere to be seen.

Grant ordered the fleet to high alert, pushing more F-14's into the air to maintain a constant vigil until the location of the Trivalvian ships was confirmed. If an invasion of Bivalve or the Isle d'Monovalve was underway then the first line of defence would be these Naashan ships.

Official Clandonian Response

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Open Declaration:

His Majesty's government has just been informed of the threat made by The World Soviet Party and we would like to remind them that should they interfere in Trivalvia where the UKCP has considerable economic interests then the forces of the Crown will deployed to defend these. Should the Soviets feel the need to continue these little threats then we will consider military deployment to defend the Harrington government from the threat of communist intervention.

There is a also a wider warning to the Nova Europa region, any attempt to aid rogue or terrorist forces in Trivalvia is a gross violation of their national sovereignty and we strongly advise against this.


God Save the King


Prime Minister David Sistilin

The People's Sovereign Republic

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Official Communiqué

Open Declaration:

Whilst the People's Sovereign Republic has no economic or military interest in Trivalvia, we will stop at nothing to stop any Clandonian aggression on Soviet assets or personnel. Please bear this in mind as you consider future courses of action.

Sincerely,
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The Rt. Hon. Sir Alistair Davidson, MP
Prime Minister of British Londinium

Official Clandonian Response

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Open Declaration:

His Majesty's government has just been informed of the threat made by The World Soviet Party and we would like to remind them that should they interfere in Trivalvia where the UKCP has considerable economic interests then the forces of the Crown will deployed to defend these. Should the Soviets feel the need to continue these little threats then we will consider military deployment to defend the Harrington government from the threat of communist intervention.

There is a also a wider warning to the Nova Europa region, any attempt to aid rogue or terrorist forces in Trivalvia is a gross violation of their national sovereignty and we strongly advise against this.


God Save the King


Prime Minister David Sistilin


Official Soviet Response

Oh, it's you again, long time no see.

Well, anyways, looks like Clandonians can only speak in threats (if they can speak at all), but this has become common over the time. So yeah.

It's getting kinda' boring, and I must really go "dispose" of Harrington now, so, uhm... go fetch a stick or something and allow us adults to take care of this bussiness.

Random Soviet Diplomat

Free Trivalvian council of war; Bivalviaton AFB,
9:00 PM, May 19, 2009

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"Here is our situation," Wellington said to the assembled generals and those connected by secure communication links. "Thanks to the success of Operation Blindfold and the civilian uprising in Sussex, the province of East Trivalve is once more under legal rule. Once again, thanks to the Alversians whose special forces were able to make this operation possible.

"Nationalist forces in the area are spread out. Our recovered satellite feeds now show three battalions attempting to return to Central Trivalve, with only two battalions and one tank regiment in cities on our eastern border. We have two battalions of infantry and now two regiments of tanks at our disposal."

[OOC - work break is coming to an end - I will attempt to post more later, but strategy thoughts from the assembled generals are most welcome.]

"I suggest that we strike while the iron is hot, so to speak. Chase down those withdrawing units with aircraft and whatever mobile forces under Free Trivalvian command. It might be possible to force more of them to surrender or switch sides and now, while they are isolated and withdrawing is the best time to do it."

The General was startled by a voice coming out of the radio as he left the truck.
He came back and listened intently.
The radio op grinned. "Control got us this link to that big general's meeting.
Got all the latest news coming in through this here radio"
The General grinned as he listened intently.
Then his face dropped.
The major saw this and queried to his expression.
"I've just had a thought.
Nobody else apart from Mackenzie has got as much forces as we have. From what I figure from these Trivalvian maps, we're about 80km off sussex itself.
Now, what if those enemy forces bunch up and attack everybody apart from MacKenzie, and the ensuing battle kills all our allies?"

The Major had a suggestion. "We could just bunch up and attack Harrington"

"Oh, yeah" The General smiled. "let's go"

Having secured the facility, the ASCC troops melted back into the countryside. The Paratroops returned to the newly captured airfield to be picked up and returned to Bivalve Island. From there they would await another mission. Meanwhile an entire armoured division, the 117th, was landed at Bivalve Island and placed under the command of MacKenzie. They were all battle-hardened troops and were looking forward to testing their new hardware in the field.

Official Clandonian Response

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Open Declaration:

His Majesty's government has just been informed of the threat made by The World Soviet Party and we would like to remind them that should they interfere in Trivalvia where the UKCP has considerable economic interests then the forces of the Crown will deployed to defend these. Should the Soviets feel the need to continue these little threats then we will consider military deployment to defend the Harrington government from the threat of communist intervention.

There is a also a wider warning to the Nova Europa region, any attempt to aid rogue or terrorist forces in Trivalvia is a gross violation of their national sovereignty and we strongly advise against this.


God Save the King


Prime Minister David Sistilin



Official Response

It is laughable that Clandonia Prime would seek to lecture the free and democratic nations of Nova Europa on the principle of national sovereignty. Fortunately, the constitution of Trivalvia requires Harrington to step down from office after a sucessful vote of no confidence, something he has failed to do. This puts any arguments of national sovereignty to rest, as Harrington is breaking the laws of his own country, we are merely aiding the people of Trivalvia in removing what has become a dictator.

We strongly advise Clandonia Prime not to undertake any military action on Nova Europan soil, both for the sake of Trivalvia's citizens and its own. Clandonian aggression will not be tolerated here.

Ackistani Airspace, Bomber Flight 1 en Route to Trivalviapolis, ETA 1 Hour

Excerpt from the radio communications

"Okay guys, you know the drill, our targets have been marked by our sats, so we need only drop our payload, make sure we score the kill and then get the hell outta dodge, questions?"

"Yes, what do we do with the F-39s?"

"The fighters will take care of those even before they spot us, trust me, explosives and planes dont mix well"

"Roger, any info on the targets?"

"Yes, Flight 1 will be targeting the Presidential Palace, nothing more, we'll level the building if necessary, flight two will handle the loyalist forces, taking special care in engaging tanks and armoured vehicles, Flight 3 will take down the fighters and finally, Flight 4 will take down any defenses and infantry they can find"

OOC:

Flight 1 - B2s and assorted bombers and escorts
Flight 2 - F-22s and F-28As
Flight 3 - A-10s
Flight 4 - A-10s and F-22s

(OOC reminder; there is some good reference material in the OOC thread (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=526573&page=11))

IC:

"That's a good idea," Wellington said to the Naashan general (OOC query, that's still Trent, right?). "However, we're a little short of manpower on the ground. Any additional ground forces that you or the World Soviet Party can supply can help to secure any enemy forces that have dug in, but we're not equipped to deal with the retreating units before they go behind enemy lines."

"We're facing some additional problems," MacKenzie added. "Now that Harrington has made the ultimatium our Soviet and Naashan allies have issued, there is a real fear of a foreign invasion. If Soviet or Naashan - or even Antigran forces - were to start appearing in our cities this would reinforce Harrington's claims. The result would be a propoganda coup for him, hardening the resolve of those military forces still under his command, and maybe even dividing the pro-democracy movements throughout the country. The worst case scenario are civilian resistance cells springing up in East Trivalve or even here on Bivalve Island in an attempt to 'repel the occupiers'. Consider what the motto of our country is, after all."

A pause while he let that sink in.

"The best thing we can do, if possible, is to mix our forces. Wellington tells me that we can't get this mix below the company level if it's to be effective before Harrington has time to regroup or even launch a counter-offensive. But, if citizens see Trivalvian forces at the lead, with foreign forces supporting, it will take some of the punch out of Harrington's oratory."

"A final problem is on the international front. You know that Clandonia Prime has responded to the ultimatium by voicing its support for Harrington's regime. However, Clandonia Prime does have some forces in the area."

Wellington called up a satellite image on the main screen. "These were taken from our recovered satellite network; this shows the docks at Trivalviapolis. There's almost no civilian vessels there now, but..." A second image replaced the first. "... we counted seven ships in addition to the 1st Home Defense Battlegroup. Consultation with our Naashan allies leads us to believe these ships are Clandonian.

"They've taken no action, and appear to be at a state of reduced alert, but the presence of those ships does make our ultimate plan harder."

Wellington returned to the map. "The threat of Clandonian involvement does put a timer on our operations. Harrington has made no overt moves to ask for help, and the Clandonians may hold off if we mix our forces as suggested - it would be hard to prove an invasion if the forces are here in support of us, rather than running independantly. However, if his back is against the wall, he might call for official help, and then our little conflict becomes a full scale war."

MacKenzie added with emphasis, "We can't let that happen. It would be better to leave this country under Harrington's rule, than to have it bombed into ruin. So: we have to keep our momentum, and remove Harrington from power as soon as possible.

"The experience at Sussex proves that the provincial governments are willing to fall in with us, so our next moves should be to secure New Moncton and Trivalviapolis as soon as possible. Allied air units can use our base at Sussex as a staging area, and you can start airlifting ground troops there as well. A small force will be sent to deal with the Nationalist units still in East Trivalve, but our main force must be aimed at securing Trivalviapolis."

"Ultimately, to prevent Harrington from escaping," Wellington added, we'll have to cut off his routes away from the mainland. This means cutting off air routes and sea routes. We can send forces in from Bivalve Island, but with the Home Defense battlegroups in the way, they'll never reach Trivalviapolis. We're going to need ships to neutralize them.

"In the meantime, if Soviet aircraft can start to deal with any anti-air defenses and air patrols in the Nationalist-held areas of Central Trivalve, that should open the way for paratroop units and allied fighter support when we make our push."

Wellington paused. "One last thing. Thanks to... a source we have in the Nationalist military HQ, I've learned that a key official, Admiral Yvonne Carter, is being held at a military prison in New Moncton. This prison is also housing three Naashan citizens. We have ground forces ready to assault New Moncton, using the same strategy we used to liberate Sussex, but we'll need special forces once again to insure the successful recovery of the Naashans and Admiral Carter.

"Admiral Carter was the chief architect of the Trivalvian navy, and her name and voice may still carry weight with some of the ship captains and vice-admirals. If she is freed, she may be able to get some of the ships to sign on with us; and that should tip the odds of any naval battles in our favour."

The Alversian General nodded, "We only have an Infantry Division so it shouldn't be difficult to mix it with your own Forces. What about our Paratroops? I suggest they be landed behind the point of any renewed offensive and gain the vital positions ahead of the main advance"

He stared at the map whilst awaiting an answer

President Aszenmil coughed, cleared his throat and spoke.

"Well, as we speak, four flights of Soviet Aircraft, disguised as Loyalists, are en route to attack Harrington, I'v been informed however, that he is in a high-civilian area, so I called off the attack on his person, the rest however, will completely and utterly crippile military forces in Trivalviapolis and the sorrounding area.

And, as far as Clandonian goes, I think General Andrets would agree in us 'loosing' anti-shipping missiles, who would magically make their way to, let's say, your hands?"

"Excellent idea," Wellington said. "Make it happen.

"Keep in mind, it's going to be harder to insert your forces now that Harrington's preparing for an invasion; I would expect air forces to be on alert. If Soviet aircraft can keep them busy, however, that might work to our advantage.

"Now, as for the planned airstrikes..." Wellington paused. "With the forces we have in the region being in a depleted state, I doubt they'll be enough for us to secure Trivalviapolis. We'll need time to tighten the net around Harrington. But, if I know Pelletier at all, he'll recommend to Harrington that they pull back forces to defend the capital, and the airstrikes will underscore that. Once that happens, your planes can start targetting tank regiments being pulled in from the other bases, and our combined forces can forge ahead and start securing territory.

"We'll also need to start setting up a naval blockade of the North Islands - keep outside ships, like the Clandonians, from either reinforcing Harrington or attempting to claim any of the smaller islands."

"I agree, I can commit some ground forces, however I would need to know who's in control of the border, and how will they react to the sudden influx of military personnel.

Back on Harrington, yes, the Soviet Air Force is quite capable of keeping them entertained, any info that you might have on H's defenses will be welcomed though."

General Trent nodded along with MacKenzie's suggestions.

"We're able to start deploying some light and airborne battalions to Sussex and perhaps Bivalve if needed. Our forces should be able to coordinate fairly well because of the links we established during Trivalvia's NEA membership. If we mix our troops at the company level then hopefully we should reduce any PR impact, hopefully Naashan and Soviet troops will be viewed reasonably anyway as they used to be a fairly common sight around the NEAMC facilities at least."

"We'll be relying on Trivalvian local knowledge and customs, so I'd like to be deploying in direct support of your troops wherever possible. We'll also provide some logistical and tactical assistance with attack and transport helicopters."

"On the naval front, our battlegroup is being reinforced with another of equal size in a couple of days. Until then, we should be able to fight off whatever ships Harrington has and Clandonia won't be able to get a sizeable force into your waters before our reinforcements arrive. Our naval presence could also allow for marine landings and transportation of Free Trivalvian forces to and from Bivalve Island, if the situation calls for it."

[OOC: now that we have the beginnings of a plan, I'm placing instructions on who controls what and where forces can go in our OOC thread - we can hash out details there without lengthening this scene further, and get to the action faster. Meanwhile, let's have a look at the other side of this conflict...]

Part 3: Dark Trivalvia

Trivalviapolis,
5:00 AM, May 20, 2009

"... So far the 40th battalion has yet to reach safe ground. There are battles raging in two bases - no regular forces, mostly base staff attempting to wrest control when the local command chain collapsed..."

General Pelletier went on about the losses of the previous day. Harrington listened, but said nothing.

"... While I've ordered two of our regiments to establish entrenched positions pending a Soviet invasion, I fear that the whole of East Trivalve is untenable. We simply cannot hold the province and mount an effective defense at the same time."

Harrington spoke, his voice almost hollow. "How did... how did we lose the province so quickly?"

Pelletier sighed. "Truth be told, sir, our hold was tenous at best. The events in Sussex on May 15th had already scarred the population, and, well, almost 500 soldiers trying to hold a city of eleven million? Only the show of force was enough to keep them cowed for a short time. They've clearly realized that they have numerical superiority now."

"We had six battalions and four regiments of tanks. The enemy has only..."

"Sir, it's not just the rebel military. The very population has sided with MacKenzie. What worries me is that their actions complement the rebel army actons perfectly. Attacks on military installations combined with civilian uprisings occuring at the same time...

"I believe we can expect this to be a similar pattern in future. New Moncton and even here would be the next logical targets."

Harrington shook his head. For the first time since the conflict began, Pelletier began to have doubts about Harrington. A little late to be having second thoughts, he chided himself. Concentrate on the current problem; defending the country.

"I... How are the rebels coordinating their attacks like this? I thought we either controlled or blocked all standard means of communication?"

The aide coughed. "Not all, sir. The nation's internet services are effectively unaltered. Several sites and forums have sprung up since you imposed Martial Law, all declaring opposition to your policies. There is even evidence that rebel groups are using the minder network extensively."

"The internet?" Harrington looked at the aide in clear disbelief. "The internet? That source of..."

"We have had a regional advantage with our information technology industries," the aide reminded him. "Over eight hundred million people wth access to computers and minders... wireless networks in every city... even civilian satellite systems.

"There are so many groups out there now, I doubt anything less than a total blackout will disrupt the network."

Pelletier cleared his throat. "Sir, I would recommend pulling as many forces back to defend the capital. Now that Naashan ships have entered our waters, I'm afraid our offensive against Isle d'Monovalve is no longer possible; we should withdraw the Atlantic Battlegroup and keep them to defend the Quadrivalve Archipelago and our naval routes there..."

"No!" Harrington stood up at once. "Isle d'Monovalve has ships of its own, and military assets it will put at MacKenzie's disposal if we don't stop them now."

"With the Naashan Fleet in the way..."

"Go around them. Go through them. Sink them, if you must. But we must not back down!"

"Sir, I..." Pelletier looked at Harrington's reddening face, and backed down. "Yes, sir."

"Good." Harrington took a breath. "I believe we may also have to initiate the DT Contingency."

Pelletier gasped. "Dark Trivalvia? Sir, that was a plan to deal with terrorist strikes against us..."

"Against our very communication networks themselves, even the internet. The DT Contigency will keep our military running, but silence the seditious siren call of the minders. With only our news services running, we can win the people back, free them from the foriegn lies. Yes... yes, we can still win this."

The aide looked stunned. "Sir, with respect, there could be a massive backlash from Dark Trivalvia. Too many of our businesses rely on the web for their daily operations. Deprive them of the web for even a few days and we could topple this country's economy..."

"That is a necessary risk," Harrington said. "A sacrifice we must make for the good of the Trivalvian people. Don't worry."

"Now, if you two will excuse me, I have an important meeting with a liason with the Clandonian ambassador."

* * *

The aide watched Pelletier leave the office, concern written on his face. The aide left the office, but rather than returning to his own office, he went to the Legislature's library, in the basement of the building. There, he met with several well-dressed men; the movers and shakers of the Statist Conservative party.

"Well?" asked the leader of the group.

"It's like I don't know him anymore," reported the aide. "He's so intent on maintaining control he even authorized Dark Trivalvia."

"Good lord," one person said.

"With everything that's happened, Harrington is going to lead this country to ruin," said another. "The only question left is are we going to let the party be dragged down with him?"

"I'm not sure we can escape him entirely. So long as martial law remains in effect..."

"If we do nothing, we become accomplaices. We have to preserve the party as best as we can."

"We still have some hours before Dark Trivalvia goes into effect," said the aide. "That gives us some time to make plans."

"Then we had better use that time wisely. As for you, stay with Harrington; the dealings with Clandonia are starting to worry us, and we need as much information as we can."

Fighter Command, Samka

The light was fading as the first of the huge C-17 Globemaster transports rose into the sky, carrying the first Naashan ground forces to be deployed in Trivalvia for over two years. These aircraft carried advance detachments of the 33rd light regiment, totalling some 2,000 men along with their equipment. A further force of seven hundred paratroopers of the 5th airborne regiment would also be heading to Sussex in convoy with these troops, having launched an hour ago from an airbase further south.

These men would make up the first influx of Naashan soldiers, once these men and women had been mixed with the Free Trivalvian units and a clear system had been worked out then more regiments could arrive to play their part in liberating Trivalvia.

Central Trivalve AFB, 5:15 AM, May 20

Warrant Officer Mitchell almost spilled his coffee when his radar display lit up with several signals. Taking care to set the mug down - it was a gift from his mother after all - he looked closely at the display, then activated his headset: "Tower, this is Tracking."

"Tracking, this is Tower. Go ahead."

"Tower, I have several bogies entering our airspace, heading west-north-west."

A pause. "Number and signature?"

"Signatures are hard to identify this far out, Tower. Number of bogies..." he did a quick count, blanched, and told the Tower.

"Understood, Tracking. Continue monitoring. Tower out."

No sooner than the Tower had signed off than a siren pierced the air. Loudspeakers outside the building began to issue orders: "All planes, scramble. Enemy aircraft inbound. Repeat, all planes, scramble..."

* * *

Atlantic Battlegroup, fifteen kilometers north of the Naashan carrier group.

Aboard the battleship TNS Resolute, Vice-Admiral Everett read the orders transmitted from HQ one more time, wondering if he had finally lost his mind. Without a word, he handed the orders to the ship's captain, who echoed his disbelieving expression.

"Are they serious?" she asked him.

"The authentication codes check out," Everett said. He felt like he could use a drink. He consulted the map. "Doesn't look like there's much chance to go around... Still..."

He reached a decision. "Captain, order the battlegroup to maximum speed, and take it on this course" - he traced a route on the map. "That should allow us a chance to get around the carrier group with minimal chance for them to get their guns on us."

"Yes sir." The captain turned to her bridge crew. "Signals, relay those orders to the fleet. Course - " she rattled off a bearing " - maximum speed.

"All hands: battle stations."

Uber von Taggage

(Reading up on this novel you've guys have made, Moorish blundering will likely commence tonight, tomorrow-ish.)

Trivalvian coastal waters.

Aboard the bridge of the NNS Jewel of the Deserts, a radio operator waved frantically to attract his admiral's attention.

"Hawkeye reports multiple surface contacts at fifteen kilometres north of our position. Signatures appear to be Trivalvian."

"Holy... that's close. Have Hawkeye confirm the report immediately."

Admiral Grant, in a clean uniform for once, waited impatiently while the radio operator relayed his message and spoke to the crew of the E-2 up in the skies above the fleet.

"Hawkeye confirms location, bearing appears to be 155, taking them straight past us, speed is high and increasing. Number and size of contacts matches that of nationalist Atlantic Battlegroup. Looks like they found us then, sir."

"Indeed." Lawrence Grant raised his voice, catching the attention of the room at large. "Fleet to red alert! Close up formation and scramble CAP fighters, now! We'll give them one chance to stop, no pussyfooting with these guys."

As the bridge transformed into organised chaos, the communications officer relayed a short message on all common hailing frequencies.

This is the Naashan 6th Carrier Group, halt immediately and do not take any hostile actions or you will be fired upon.

Air Clandonia, Cargo Terminal Trivalviapolis International Airport

Despite there officially being no Crown diplomatic presence in the country a small department from the Foreign Office were stationed there. Overseeing the relations and responsible for passing on intelligence. Tonnes of supplies were being brought in and with a Clandonian fast battleship in harbour there was a large military presence. Clandonian private security forces. The cargo variant of Sabres were flying in at least six times a day, bringing in supplies for war to help the forces of Hamilton. The unofficial Clandonian ambassador had been briefed for his meeting, Soviet and Naashan forces were reported to be jittery and likely to strike or possibly had struck already. The motorcade had left the little Clandonian centre for the clandestine operation and pulled up in central Trivalviapolis. Doing aside all the formalities the ambassador Sir Arthur Campell, a former naval officer of the Royal Navy.

"Ah Mr Hamilton, a honour to meet you in these so worrying times. I am sorry that His Majesty's government could not offer more support than we already are but with war of a great magnitude on the horizon."


15th Home Battlefleet, 1200 Miles North of Trivalvia in the North Sea

The 15th Home Battlefleet was out of its usual waters of the Haven on orders to protect the assets of the Crown and her economic interests. The tensions in Haven and with the forces of the Questerian Commonwealth and of NATO were far out of the minds of the sailors, the close proximity to those that wished death on Clandonia, Nova Europa. Numbering one hundred ships with several large battleships and dreadnoughts the group was protecting the Arctic trawlers and the tankers that moved around the Northern Atlantic.

Flying the flag of the Royal Navy and soon to be raising the Trivalian flag, they had been ordered South to rescue the small fast battleship squadron that had managed to get its self caught up in a civil war. With a couple of thousand marines in standard combat readiness on the Pheasant Class assault carriers they could possibly be ordered to make landfall. It was unsuitable to say the least with the task at hand, if Trivalvia was lost then it would be a sad one to the Crown Government but the priorities had shifted with the dramatic change of events.

Admiral Lord Carrington IV looked out onto the flotilla as he expected it from the Merlin helicopter for the morning assessment, the whoops of the klaxon's as they steamed on to Trivalivan waters. The guns of the Royal Navy shone in the setting sun, the glow of engine after burners on the Clandonian jets as they set off on their patrols around the group, the lights of ships signal crew talking to each other or playing card games over the vast distances amused the senior officers who thought it was all a little jolly, glad not to be on the force assembling ready to force the Jarridians and the infidel coalition that had attacked Clandonian merchant ships in the Med.

[OOC: O.K., I'm finally back from my trip, and I've more or less caught up with the most recent actions. Apologies for my tardiness in posting. Trivalvia, if you want to bring Clavain forward into the timeline of the thread for the sake of keeping things convenient, feel free to do so. Just let me know what kind of situation you're putting him in. :P]

The docking was a normal procedure, and their deep ports allowed the large ship to dock easily. As the last drops of oil drained out of the massive tanks the cranes on the port opened up the tanks, and removed the oily containers. They were quickly covered with tarps and tied down to tractor trailers.

GPS jammers came online and tried to blind any satellites that were over the area. The ship's repairs were easy and they quickly switched out for pipes that worked. The captain watched as his satellite connected computer read that full payment had arrived for the ships contents.

The captain announced no shore leave, and they weren't to leave the ship. As soon as the transfer was done and Mr. Clavain said they could go.

Clavain, resplendent in his high-rolling executive’s attire and silver briefcase, stood on the bridge of the freighter for the final time as the Mafia men did their job. Despite his distrust of them, he had to admit that they knew what they were doing; the transfer was smooth and swift, and Harrington would be none the wiser as to what was actually going on in these warehouses. He silently called up the status of the money HCIA had prepared for the Mafia on the HUD inside his shades, and he saw that it had been successfully transferred to an offshore account shortly after the transfer was completed.

Our taxpayers’ dollars hard at work here, going to criminals, he thought. There’s not much HCIA won’t do, if it gets the job done.

“My job here is done,” Clavain said to the captain, turning to face him, “as is yours. Your payment has been wired to the appropriate location. I will be disembarking to rendezvous with my business partner here.”

With that, he turned on his heel and began to step out of the bridge. He stopped for a moment, as if thinking better of it, but he merely faced the captain again, that same unnerving killer’s smile again affixed to his face, and said, “Bon voyage, Captain.” He turned again and left.

He walked down to the deck and off the gangway onto the dock. He quickened his pace once on solid ground, subtly shifting his posture, gait, and mannerisms to those of a businessman who was used to getting what he wanted — and was in a hurry. He walked at a quick clip towards one of the warehouses that held the concealed F-22s, taking refuge from watchful eyes above in the shade below the overhangs. He strode in confidently between a pair of massive open doors into a warehouse, and flagged down the first Trivalvian appearing to be from the resistance movement he could find.

“Alexander Sylvington,” he said, with just a hint of icy arrogance tingeing his words as he flashed a business card in front of the Trivalvian’s face, “King Wah Corporation. I’m here to see a Mr. MacKenzie. Where can I find him?” He shifted his weight onto his right foot, appearing slightly impatient at the delay and perhaps a bit disdainful at the conditions of his “disembarkation terminal.”

Central Trivalve AFB, 5:15 AM, May 20

Warrant Officer Mitchell almost spilled his coffee when his radar display lit up with several signals. Taking care to set the mug down - it was a gift from his mother after all - he looked closely at the display, then activated his headset: "Tower, this is Tracking."

"Tracking, this is Tower. Go ahead."

"Tower, I have several bogies entering our airspace, heading west-north-west."

A pause. "Number and signature?"

"Signatures are hard to identify this far out, Tower. Number of bogies..." he did a quick count, blanched, and told the Tower.

"Understood, Tracking. Continue monitoring. Tower out."

No sooner than the Tower had signed off than a siren pierced the air. Loudspeakers outside the building began to issue orders: "All planes, scramble. Enemy aircraft inbound. Repeat, all planes, scramble..."


"I'm getting signals from the ground, apparently, they have already tracked us"

"So much for stealth. All fighters, move ahead and try to take down as many enemies as you can, the rest of the flight will continue on it's predetermined course"

With a slight wing movement, the escort force of 40 F-22s and 40 F-28As moved forward to meet the Trivalvian F-39s, once they got a lock, they would fire their missiles, sure that none of the opposing force would survive such a barrage.

Meanwhile, the A-10s moved down to take care of the airfield, and make sure it would be "disposed" of.

Harrington winced inwardly as the Clandonian ambassador got his name wrong, covering over his discomfort with a smile and a handshake. "Any help you can provide is certainly appreciated," he said smoothly. "I believe you will find my government will be most grateful once this is over." At least as long as its politically useful...

"I trust you are familiar with the current situation here?" When the other nodded, Harrington went on, "I am preparing an initiative which, I believe, will strike a decisive blow against the insurgents, and give us a chance to establish a united front against the imminent Soviet invasion. However, I believe your own business interests in our country will need to be prepared - quietly - for its effects. It is called the 'Dark Trivalvia' contingency..."

* * *

Nationalist Military HQ, Trivalviapolis GFB

Lt. Morrow read the classified memo that had just appeared on his workstation screen:

ALL DEPARTMENTS: At 0630 Hours on May 21, the 'Dark Trivalvia' contingency will be enabled. All command and communication sections are to make necessary preparations before then. Details follow...

Morrow glanced up and around the command room, then - making sure nobody was watching - hooked his minder up to the terminal and copied the memo.

For the past few days, he had been quietly feeding information over to General Wellington, each time risking exposure, but he figured he was getting better at this. Maybe when this was all over, he might request a transfer to covert ops...

With the memo copied, he disconnected his minder and slipped it into a pocket. "I'm going for coffee. Anyone want some?" he asked.

No response. "Okay. Back in a minute." He left the command room and walked down a hallway. There was a washroom next to the cafeteria, and he might be able to burst-transmit the memo from there...

He heard footsteps behind him. Sneaking a glance, he saw a soldier walking behind him, holding an assault rifle. Not threatening, but not reassuring either.

On an impulse, Morrow turned a corner - this would be a more round about way to the cafeteria but...

The soldier turned the corner, still following Morrow. Morrow did his best to remain calm, but quickened his pace. The soldier followed suit.

Another corner - and the soldier still followed him. Morrow felt a lump in his throat. Stay calm, you took precautions, surely they don't know...

A second soldier entered the hallway ahead of him, planting himself right in the center. No way past.

"Lieutenant Morrow?" The voice from behind caused Morrow to jump. He turned and saw the first soldier had raised his assault rifle to firing position. "Take out your minder and pistol and put them on the floor. Slowly."

Morrow considered bluffing or fighting. No possibility. He took out his pistol first, laying it down on the floor and kicking it away. His minder was next; the memo still visible on its tiny screen, ready to transmit.

Now or never. He reached for the 'send' button, diving down in the hopes of throwing off the soldier's aim.

No such luck. The assault rifle spat, and Morrow felt bullets tearing through him. He didn't cry out - one of the bullets had hit his jaw. He was dead before he hit the ground - but not before he saw another bullet tear through his minder. Oh cr--

Bivalve Island

The Paratroops left the briefing with their Commander, happy and optimistic. They were to be given another combat assignment against the Nationalist Trivalvian Army and they were looking forward to it. The Commander had had little information available but stated as soon as the Free Forces gave the location of their target they would be told. The Strike would happen that same night. They were really looking forward to it.

Air Battle over Central Trivalve:

"Incoming! All planes: evasive!"

"Geez! How many of them are there?"

"Pick targets and fire! Make your shots count!"

Lieutenant Savalle banked his F-39, firing chaff and flares to evade the incoming missiles. He was lucky, but he watched as explosions marked the deaths of three of his squadron-mates. The others managed to fire a round of missiles and evade, but not before two more F-39s were destroyed.

This was suicide: they had twenty planes - the enemy had eighty. And that wasn't counting the A-10's closing on the airbase.

Savalle reached a decision. If they were going to die, they had to make their deaths count. "Wing 3, follow me! Captain, requesting cover!" He turned and dove straight for the A-10s.

LOSSES:
5 F-39 Copperhead fighters.

Battle of the Atlantic

Vice Admiral Everett listened as his signals officer relayed the Naashan demand.

He looked at the ships now arrayed on the radar.

"Sir?" It was the captain. "We have firing solutions on the nearest ships."

Everett didn't answer. The screens said it all; no way to evade, and too many ships to fight. But he had his orders...

He thought about his daughter, who was going to graduate from high school this year.

"Sir?"

He had to defend his country...

"Sir, your orders?"

God, forgive me... but I can't do this.

"Stand down," he said.

The captain stared at him in disbelief. "Sir?"

Everett stood a little straighter. "Stand down from battle stations. That's an order."

The captain's jaw worked as if she wanted to say something. In the end, she said. "Yes, sir. All ships: stand down, repeat stand down! Admiral, should we return to base?"

Everett nodded. "Yes. Signal the Naashans and tell them we are withdrawing."

The captain nodded. Around the bridge, Everett saw looks of relief - apparently everyone knew what the score would have been if they had fought.

"Helm, set course for Quadrivalve Island NFB, half-speed. Signals, send the following message to the Naashan battlegroup..."

From TNS Resolute, Trivalvian Atlantic Battlegroup
To Naashan 6th Carrier Group

All ships are standing down and returning to base. Repeat, all ships are withdrawing. Hold your fire.

Air Battle over Central Trivalve:

"Incoming! All planes: evasive!"

"Geez! How many of them are there?"

"Pick targets and fire! Make your shots count!"

Lieutenant Savalle banked his F-39, firing chaff and flares to evade the incoming missiles. He was lucky, but he watched as explosions marked the deaths of three of his squadron-mates. The others managed to fire a round of missiles and evade, but not before two more F-39s were destroyed.

This was suicide: they had twenty planes - the enemy had eighty. And that wasn't counting the A-10's closing on the airbase.

Savalle reached a decision. If they were going to die, they had to make their deaths count. "Wing 3, follow me! Captain, requesting cover!" He turned and dove straight for the A-10s.

LOSSES:
5 F-39 Copperhead fighters.


The radio was filled with victory cries, the F-39s were in full retreat, or at least they looked like it, suddenly, a scream filled the channel.

"FUCK! THEY ARE GOING FOR THE A-10s!"

"Calm down dammit, Squads one and two, on me, let's take down those motherhumpers!" He switched his radio to contact the A-10s "This is Red Leader, there are a few hostiles going your way, evade, we'll take care of them, over"

Without a word, the ground attack aircraft started evasive manouevers, trying to evade the incoming F-39s, being chased by the F-22s.

Trivalvian coastal waters

"Desert Hare and White Sands report that they have firing solutions, sir!"

"The outer picket destroyers have missiles locked and loaded, sir."

"Enemy radar has painted the fleet, admiral."

The calls of the officers floated one by one across the bridge of the NNS Jewel of the Deserts, the efficiency of the flagship's crew impressed Admiral Grant, who had been painfully aware that none of his ships had ever seen real action. Then came a painful silence, lasting for almost twenty seconds as they awaited a Trivalvian response. The assembled men and women held their breath as the enemy chose whether they would live or die.

Eventually, the comms officers screen lit up, the brief message indicating the nationalist admiral's desire not to see any lives lost here, today.

"Enemy fleet signals they are standing down and returning to base."

"Enemy radar lock has been relinquished, they are returning to standby, sir."

Lawrence Grant let out a sigh of relief, thinking of the men aboard both his fleet and the Trivalvian one who had come so close to death today. These people were neighbours, former allies, they had no place as Naasha's enemies just because of the actions of their irrational and power-crazed leader. He turned away from the comms screen and addressed the bridge.

"Thank the Gods for that, order the fleet off high alert and reduce speed to match the Trivalvians, we'll follow them for a little way and make sure they don't get lost."

The captain frowned at him.

"Sir, didn't you order them to halt? Shouldn't we board them and remove the threat completely?"

Grant chuckled at the notion and waved his hand dismissively.

"We got lucky that they changed their course, do you really want to push it by trying to board? Besides, I doubt we'll be hearing of the Atlantic Battlegroup for a while now, what makes you think they'll be so keen to try it again?"

The captain nodded and saluted.

"Very well, the enemy have finished coming about and the fleet have matched speed, we're trailing at about seven kilometres."

The admiral smiled gently and touched his shoulder.

"They're not the enemy any more, Peter. Harrington is the only enemy to both us and the Trivalvian people. Now, transmit the following message."

To TNS Resolute, Trivalvian Atlantic Battlegroup

You have made a wise choice today, and many souls aboard both our fleets thank you for it. We will keep station 7km astern until you near Quadrivalve Island, we are standing down now.

A messenger sped into the compound, the 5-cylinder deisel engine below the bonnet of his jeep propelling him onward another 50 meters before he slid to a stop near one of the tents.
The Staff Sergeant leapt out of the vehicle and bumped into Major Rockingham.
"Where's the General?"

"Why?"

"A new directive straight from Foreign Operation Command in Antigr.
Our forces are supposed to move to Sussex AFB, and the General has to get to some meeting thing the other commanders are having, pronto"

"Oh, hell. I'll get the General. Sergeant, sign out three jeeps and get an armed truck from the motor pool. Tell them the Major sent you.
They're for general and escort"

Bivalviaton

Samantha entered the office temporarily assigned to William MacKenzie. "Sir, I have a Mr. -" she consulted a note on her minder - "'Alexander Sylvington' to see you."

MacKenzie blinked, recognizing the assumed name. "Ah, yes. Show him in, and Samantha... I believe I may need some privacy for this."

"Yes sir," Samantha said, looking worried. "Good luck, sir." She held the door open as a well-dressed man walked in, and closed the door behind him as she left.

MacKenzie looked at 'Sylvington'. And now I play my role as Dr. Faustus, he thought. Your government recommended you very highly, but I have to wonder just what kind of moral price I will have to pay for your services?

He stood, smiled, and offered 'Sylvington' a seat. "I'm glad you could make it," he said aloud. "We have much to discuss and very little time..."

Division "Beta" Staging Area; 7 kilometers southwest of New Moncton.

Colonel Flynn watched a pair of trucks drive up to the staging area; the side panels said Schroeder Book Company. Today they would be delivering something a little more vital than reading material.

His men quickly unloaded the trucks. Fresh rations, munitions 'liberated' from one of the southern bases, and canisters containing methanol. It was the fourth shipment today, and one more was planned before nightfall.

Flynn marvelled at the ad-hoc supply network that had formed over the past day. He still was a little fuzzy on the details, but somehow the General had coordinated with civilian groups in surrounding cities and towns. Although Colonel Zala had taken Sussex with minimal supplies, Colonel Flynn intended that his force would be well-rested and well-stocked before launching the attack. Surprise and adrenaline can only go so far; morale and preparation were important tools to victory.

And Flynn intended this to be a victory. If nothing else, it would look good should he be considered for a promotion.

An aide handed him a message. Colonel Flynn read the message carefully:

Allied paratroop forces en-route. They will attempt to secure and evacuate military prisons in New Moncton GFB - several key personnel need to be evacuated from this facility; provide cover for the paratroopers but do not jeopardize your primary objectives. Details follow...

Flynn nodded, satisfied. Soon he will see whether his preparations were enough. "Inform the other command staff, we will attack at 0615 hours tomorrow morning."

Daybreak. The most dangerous time for a defending force. Flynn intended this to be a victory.

Sussex AFB

Colonel Zala was up to his neck in the worst kind of military action - administration.

"... the Naashan 33rd can help hold our perimeter around Sussex, but I suggest we attach these companies to assist the 10th; we'll need them to help clear out holdouts in Mollusc City. As for these troops, we'll need them with us when the main push starts... No, command has not given us a time to advance. Let's just concentrate on securing the province and keep enough forces on hand when the order comes through..."

A captain from Company 'B' spoke up. "Sir? We've got word that the Antigran forces are sending their command staff up here."

"Finally! With their firepower we might have a chance to pull this off. Now, what about the Soviet reinforcements? When can we expect them to start landing?..."

0600 Hours, Soviet-Trivalvian Border

For the past few weeks, a large contingent of soviet troops had been amassing at the border, that said, it was only in response to Harrington's own policies on NEA and Soviet-Trivalvia relations which had pushed TWSP to do this.

Now, finally given the chance to act, two division from the Red Army, backed up by the Air Force, would move into Trivalvian territory, hoping their goodwill would be enough to win the people's heart.

When the order came, a few officers assembled to discuss the best approach, it was decided that it was best to keep things civil, so a single, unarmed MMPWV LV-08 (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=9479870&postcount=1) was loaded with a colonel and a couple of escorts, and sent to the Trivalvian checkpoint in the border.

The 4 aircraft made their way silently across the night sky. In each one were 30 heavily armed Alversian Paratroops who eagerly awaited the chance to jump into combat. The aircraft made a low bank to the left and slowed down to their minimum speed "Two minutes!" the pilot shouted. All the troops stood up and prepared as the doors were opened. "JUMP!" the pilot shouted, as he did so, the first paratroop leapt fearlessly into the night and went into freefall closely followed by his comrades. They waited until the last moment to deploy their parachutes and only enjoyed a brief moments rest before hitting the ground with a dull thump. The Troops quickly unclicked their parachutes, grabbed their weapons and met in a nearby woodland. Once everyone was accounted for, the Para's began to move towards the prison.

Bivalviaton

Samantha entered the office temporarily assigned to William MacKenzie. "Sir, I have a Mr. -" she consulted a note on her minder - "'Alexander Sylvington' to see you."

MacKenzie blinked, recognizing the assumed name. "Ah, yes. Show him in, and Samantha... I believe I may need some privacy for this."

"Yes sir," Samantha said, looking worried. "Good luck, sir." She held the door open as a well-dressed man walked in, and closed the door behind him as she left.

MacKenzie looked at 'Sylvington'. And now I play my role as Dr. Faustus, he thought. Your government recommended you very highly, but I have to wonder just what kind of moral price I will have to pay for your services?

He stood, smiled, and offered 'Sylvington' a seat. "I'm glad you could make it," he said aloud. "We have much to discuss and very little time..."

Clavain returned the man's smile coldly. The HUD readout in his sunglasses showed no signs of hidden monitoring devices in the room or on MacKenzie's person. Good. He removed the glasses, folded them, and placed them in an inside pocket of his suit jacket while taking the seat MacKenzie had offered him. He placed his briefcase down on the ground in front of him, within easy reach.

"It's good to be here," he said in an unusually congenial tone, one that was almost certainly an act. "I hope you have found our products to be to your satisfaction," he added wryly.

He paused for a moment, then said, "Please, tell me what it is that you wish to discuss. I am here to listen." Again, that unsettling smile remained on his face...

The radio was filled with victory cries, the F-39s were in full retreat, or at least they looked like it, suddenly, a scream filled the channel.

"FUCK! THEY ARE GOING FOR THE A-10s!"

"Calm down dammit, Squads one and two, on me, let's take down those motherhumpers!" He switched his radio to contact the A-10s "This is Red Leader, there are a few hostiles going your way, evade, we'll take care of them, over"

Without a word, the ground attack aircraft started evasive manouevers, trying to evade the incoming F-39s, being chased by the F-22s.

The remaining fifteen planes of the squadron had divided into two groups: ten now attempted to provide a screen against the chasing F-22's, while five went after the A-10s.

At this stage, none of the pilots knew they would escape alive, or at least intact; at these speeds it was an open question whether they could eject safely.

But if they could knock out some of the A-10s, maybe the ground AA crews would have a chance.

The ten planes trying to delay the others perished quickly; although three of them did manage to get a lock and fire a missile before dying. Two managed to eject before their craft were destroyed.

As for the five heading for the A-10s...

Lieutenant Savalle delayed firing as long as possible, frantically maneuvering and discharging flares and chaff whenever an enemy missile lock sounded; he noted that his wingmates were doing likewise. One was not so lucky and her plane became a fireball.

They were now in range. Savalle silently prayed for a missile lock, knowing he would have time for only one shot.

Closer...

Closer...

LOCK!

He pressed the trigger and watched the contrail of his missile leaving the plane, echoed by three more. Four missile raced toward the planes.

Savalle turned his attention to another A-10, but his earlier intuition was correct: he only had one shot.

Central Trivalve AFB Control Tower.

The base commander watched as his planes were destroyed. Sweating, he turned to the communications officer. "Any word on the reinforcements from Trivalviapolis and Esther Island AFBs?"

"They've scrambled their squadrons, but they won't get here for at least thirty minutes."

The commander nodded. "Control to all ground AA crews: the enemy has broken through our fighter screens. You're all we've got to stop them now.

"Give them hell."

LOSSES:
15 planes. Squadron destroyed.

OOC: Just a query, TWSP, but there were some missiles loosed at your planes in the earlier part of this battle (approx. 10). Did any of your planes get hit?

Also for reference: Central Trivalve has 6 ground AA cannon emplacements; two-barrel 40 mm cannons, range 6 kilometers.

The remaining fifteen planes of the squadron had divided into two groups: ten now attempted to provide a screen against the chasing F-22's, while five went after the A-10s.

At this stage, none of the pilots knew they would escape alive, or at least intact; at these speeds it was an open question whether they could eject safely.

But if they could knock out some of the A-10s, maybe the ground AA crews would have a chance.

The ten planes trying to delay the others perished quickly; although three of them did manage to get a lock and fire a missile before dying. Two managed to eject before their craft were destroyed.

As for the five heading for the A-10s...

Lieutenant Savalle delayed firing as long as possible, frantically maneuvering and discharging flares and chaff whenever an enemy missile lock sounded; he noted that his wingmates were doing likewise. One was not so lucky and her plane became a fireball.

They were now in range. Savalle silently prayed for a missile lock, knowing he would have time for only one shot.

Closer...

Closer...

LOCK!

He pressed the trigger and watched the contrail of his missile leaving the plane, echoed by three more. Four missile raced toward the planes.

Savalle turned his attention to another A-10, but his earlier intuition was correct: he only had one shot.

Central Trivalve AFB Control Tower.

The base commander watched as his planes were destroyed. Sweating, he turned to the communications officer. "Any word on the reinforcements from Trivalviapolis and Esther Island AFBs?"

"They've scrambled their squadrons, but they won't get here for at least thirty minutes."

The commander nodded. "Control to all ground AA crews: the enemy has broken through our fighter screens. You're all we've got to stop them now.

"Give them hell."

LOSSES:
15 planes. Squadron destroyed.

OOC: Just a query, TWSP, but there were some missiles loosed at your planes in the earlier part of this battle (approx. 10). Did any of your planes get hit?

Also for reference: Central Trivalve has 6 ground AA cannon emplacements; two-barrel 40 mm cannons, range 6 kilometers.

The F-22s managed to take down the F-39s, suffering some casulaties in the process, one fighter was shot down, with the pilot managing to eject before being, and later on, two more were downed, this time however, only one of them managed to exit his aircraft, the other one exploded in a fiery ball of fire and plummeted to the ground.

The A-10s started flying liek crazy, trying to evade the missiles and allowing the F-28s to use their countermeasures, still 3 were shot down by the Copperheads.

With their foes defeated, the flight continued making it's way to the airbase, wary of approaching the AA sites, but confident that they were way above the range. The bombers started dropping their payloads, smart and dumb bombs alike, as well as some napalm, because, once the 40mms got destroyed, the A-10s would make their run.

Meanwhile, the other flight, directed at Harrington's forces in the mainland, was still making it's way to the last reported position of the Loyalist Armoured Forces.

Official Clandonian Response

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v338/madnukedude/clandoniansmallflag.png

Open Declaration:

His Majesty's government strongly condemns and orders the illegal actions of The World Soviet Party and Naasha for their involvement in matters of Trivalivan sovereignty. The actions of the two mentioned governments have promoted the Crown government to order the movement of a battlefleet to reinforce the rightful Harrington premiership and to suppress separatist forces.

Using the powers invested by the Imperial Crown Protection Act of 1828 which safeguards Clandonian economical assets abroad that the threat of damage to business and life of Clandonian nationals is high and must be prevented. The forces of His Majesty's Royal Air Force and Navy will deployed at will at the wishes of the true Trivalvian government and will be authorised to fire upon outside forces if they deem it necessary.


God Save the King



Prime Minister Sir David Sistilin



---


500 km's North of Trivalvian North Island Territories

The 14th Home Battlefleet was the standard Clandonian model, one hundred vessels of varying size backed up by battleship and carrier support which cold safely put ashore a marine or army expeditionary group operating off the Pheasant Class Assault Carriers. Four thousand two hundred marines could be put ashore quickly by air or sea, the nature of the Clandonian battlefleets allowed them to be flexible in their work in protecting the assets of the Crown and her allies.

Sea Admiral Sir William de Monfort, head of the battlefleet was expecting the diversion, the war between Jarridia had calmed meaning Clandonian trade was now safe from threats. The battlefleet was now well within range to launch aircraft and missiles, the government did not want to fight such a war but it would rather reinforce the Trivalvians while military aid continued to flow in, hopefully allowing Harrington to stay in control. An air patrol had passed them earlier in the day, two Type 1000 nuclear bomber landing in Trivalviapolis with their F-36 Gladius fighters tucked behind, attached to the super sonic aircraft laden with the Falling Hammer munitions, obviously to be used on some poor unsuspecting foreigner. At around five o'Clock in the evening local time the Admiral was instructed to go to battle stations due the proximity to the coast they were now in range of enemy anti-shipping missiles. On the two Royal Sovereign Class dreadnought the orders were to arm the Khan Class anti-shipping missiles and begin searching for something large enough to hit.

On the carriers, the County Class carriers which were the workforce of the fleet. Having just been resupplied with aviation fuel and general stores the fleet air arm was ready for action. Their FB-401 Bird of Prey and F/A-22 Strike Raptor were being transported onto deck from their hangers beneath the decks on the large hydraulically power lifts. Weapon tech's were wheeling up pallets of MAS Interdiction Bomb, MAS Reaper AA Missiles & MAS Trespasser Air to ground munitions to be loaded onto the awaiting aircraft. Sorties were now being dispatched to monitor the surrounding airspace.

Gunners and marines on deck watched out as the clouds set in, unleashing rain soaking those on deck and relief for those that had just come off day shift. Settling in for a quiet Thursday in the bars and messes on the vessels for the Ship Pub Quiz, a tradition for the Royal Navy. The singing of drunken sailors, the sounds of jets taking off and the rain lashing on the window relieved the Admiral, he had not been at sea for two years but with the call up and the original commander managing to kill himself in a speed boat incident in the Virgin Islands there was no one else available in the time needed. Settling down to a good cigar at a whiskey he took off his jacket and put in the back of his chair, turning to the Intel Report that had been posted through his door, it contained the evenings intelligence for the region they were entering. Fighting in several places and reports of Soviet forces crossing the border, all rather interesting but not much on the maritime side of things.

He itched for a battle, to see the smoke arising from the guns, the smell of cordite from explosives and the reek of jet fuel in the air. The Clandonian navy in the area alone outnumbered the local forces and with the war in ViZon appearing to be over the Grand Expeditionary Fleet was heading home to go defend the Haven and Clandonian assets there as the impending war loomed with NATO. It could be very easy though if required to divert half of the fleet to his location, they would not need to tell the Soviets or Naashians to leave when the sight of a one thousand ship flotilla appeared out of the blue.

Looking at the charts, an old Soviet naval base that had been reported to have become active again, surely some sign of their aggresion. He could easily take it with the force he had, the guns would be soon in range and launching a couple of Khan's, Lance's and Ballista's would be just right for the attack, combined with a few Interdiction Bombs containing Mix 44, the Soviet ships could be lit up like a Christmas Tree making it even easier for the excellent skills of Clandonian gunnery personal.

Trivalviapolis GFB

General Pelletier silently ground his teeth as he listened to the last transmission from Central Trivalve AFB:

"...Several planes, mix of fighters, bombers, ground attack craft... Our own fighters barely dented the force. I've ordered our troops to cut and run, try and hide in the woods.

"I'm staying here - one last thing we can do, make sure the Soviets don't take the base. But listen; we need reinforcements from God, or somewhere, because -- *"

Pelletier closed his eyes as the transmission ended, static coming through the speaker. He shut off the comm.

Around the command room, a feeling of hopelessness was in the air. The loss of Central Trivalve AFB - not to mention the two regiments of tanks he'd ordered to hold off a Soviet ground advance, taken out not by enemy armour, but by enemy aircraft. Without satellites, he could not tell if any tanks had survived the attack.

Worse, reports from what few spies he had in the vicinity of Sussex reported that foreign troops were operating in support of the insurgent forces - and this fact was starting to be trumpeted across the minder network. Harrington's propoganda machine, working like an overclocked computer, had tried to picture the foreign troops as taking over, but instead the "invaders" were holding back, taking their cues from Trivalvian officers in the field.

And the recent discovery of a spy in their own midst, not to mention his messy demise, had been a body blow to morale.

"Sir?"

Pelletier returned to the present with a start. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Sir, the 1st and 5th Squadrons are requesting orders. Should they attempt to engage the Soviet planes?"

Pelletier shook his head. "No, order both squadrons to land at Trivalviapolis AFB. They'll refuel there and prepare to repel any air attacks against the capital. Is there anything else?"

With business concluded, Pelletier excused himself and retreated to his office. There, he was confronted with another piece of news: a fax from President Harrington. He read the fax carefully:

Tentative agreement with Clandonian forces reached. Clandonian ground troops to assume defense of North Island Territories; working on weapons transfer deal to bolster our own forces. Once Clandonian forces land, you can move our troops from Esther Island to the mainland.

Pelletier sank into his chair. The Clandonians! After all his talk about keeping foreign influence out of Trivalvia, he strikes a deal with the Clandonians?

Mon Dieu, he thought, directing his gaze skyward. What have I gotten myself into?

* * *

Bivalviaton

MacKenzie folded his hands on the desk. "Within the next few days," he told Clavain, "we plan to move our forces to free the capital city. That move should end the war itself, but, we need to go one step further."

"Harrington," Clavain responded.

"Yes. This fight started in a legal battleground and it must end there, especially if we are to have any legitimacy in the eyes of the public and the world.

"What we need is evidence - evidence of Harrington's attempts to flout the constitution, of his supposed ties to an unidentified foreign power. But, we lack any real intelligence operatives in Trivalviapolis - at least, any that we can trust.

"We also need to insure Harrington's capture. The military can work to try and cut off most of his avenues of retreat, but Trivalviapolis is a large city - over twenty million people. It's safe to assume that unless someone can get to him first, he might successfully hide in the population and escape at some later time."

MacKenzie leaned forward. "That is what I am willing to hire you for. I need someone to get into the Legislature, into Harrington's office itself, and secure both Harrington and the evidence needed to convict him in a court of law. We have to do this before he has a chance to destroy said evidence. You can discuss the details of payment with my subordinates, but I have authorized them to agree to your price... within reason."

The office door opened, and Samantha entered. "Sorry for the interruption, sir, but I think you need to see this right away." She handed him a paper, nodded to Clavain, and left, closing the door behind her.

MacKenzie took a second to read the paper. Damn, he thought. It was a declaration from the Clandonian government - they were throwing increased support behind Harrington.

He looked back up at Clavain, setting the paper to one side. "Do we have an agreement?"

General Franklin strode upto Sussex AFB, accompanied by a Captain and three soldiers.
After an armed guard waved him past, he entered a building.
"Where the hell are the other generals?"

Quick OOC: I've provided a quick sketch of an Antigran GPL Jeep here (http://i151.photobucket.com/albums/s129/antigr/GPLJeep.jpg)

Official Clandonian Response

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v338/madnukedude/clandoniansmallflag.png

Open Declaration:

His Majesty's government strongly condemns and orders the illegal actions of The World Soviet Party and Naasha for their involvement in matters of Trivalivan sovereignty. The actions of the two mentioned governments have promoted the Crown government to order the movement of a battlefleet to reinforce the rightful Harrington premiership and to suppress separatist forces.

Using the powers invested by the Imperial Crown Protection Act of 1828 which safeguards Clandonian economical assets abroad that the threat of damage to business and life of Clandonian nationals is high and must be prevented. The forces of His Majesty's Royal Air Force and Navy will deployed at will at the wishes of the true Trivalvian government and will be authorised to fire upon outside forces if they deem it necessary.


God Save the King



Prime Minister Sir David Sistilin


Official Response

Surely this need only be said once. Clandonia Prime, given its history, including past relations with the nations of Nova Europa and its rather imperialistic attitudes, is in no place to speak of defending national sovereignty. Harrington is in violation of his own nations law by remaining in office, the deployment of Naashan personnel in support of Trivalvians who are prepared to act on Harringtons refusal to step down from power is entirely justified.

Clandonia Prime is acting entirely out of self-interest to support a government that before this crisis has shown complete scorn to it and the rest of the world. In fact, if Clandonia Prime cares so much about national sovereignty then we challenge them to prove it, perhaps by intervening in the growing crisis in Gens Romae (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=531404) where Clandonia has nothing to gain, unlike in Trivalvia where it is clear to the world that they seek only a foothold in Nova Europa.

Furthermore, we demand that Clandonian naval assets are halted from their deployment in Trivalvian waters, and indeed the waters of any NEA nation. You may be able to push us around individually, but we all know what the end result of any Clandonian aggression in and around Nova Europa will be.

The soldiers standing in line in the cafeteria looked at the Antigran General.

Silence reigned for a moment.

One soldier emerged from the line. "I think I know where you need to be, uh, sir," she said, nervously. "The admin buildings suffered some damage so they set up headquarters in a warehouse on-base. If you'll follow me...?"

(OOC: sorry, but I just couldn't resist injecting a little humour into the situation... :D)

(OOC, now for something a little more serious; last post for me for the day...)

Open Response to the Clandonian Declaration

The Free Trivalvian forces and the Progressive Democratic Federal party of Trivalvia wish to remind the Clandonian government that we are not the aggressors here. Tony Harrington has broken this country's constitution by not stepping down after a loss of a Vote of Confidence (reference: Legislature Public Archive: Bill T-102 05/15/2009) and declaring Martial Law after losing his authority to do so. Consider the damage to your own nation's honour if you attempt to support a man determined to hold on to power by destroying the rule of law. In addition, please remember that the first actions conducted under Harrington's illegal rule were the firing on civilians exercising their right to demonstrate peaceably in the city of Sussex, and the siezing of key television and radio studios around the country.

The Free Trivalvian Forces reiterate our desire for a legal transition of government, and remind Harrington and his supporters that this can all end if he steps down as requested and required by law, and elections called. Our own leadership has agreed that elections should be held no less than thirty (30) days after the end of this conflict.

0600 Hours, Soviet-Trivalvian Border

For the past few weeks, a large contingent of soviet troops had been amassing at the border, that said, it was only in response to Harrington's own policies on NEA and Soviet-Trivalvia relations which had pushed TWSP to do this.

Now, finally given the chance to act, two division from the Red Army, backed up by the Air Force, would move into Trivalvian territory, hoping their goodwill would be enough to win the people's heart.

When the order came, a few officers assembled to discuss the best approach, it was decided that it was best to keep things civil, so a single, unarmed MMPWV LV-08 (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=9479870&postcount=1) was loaded with a colonel and a couple of escorts, and sent to the Trivalvian checkpoint in the border.

QFT

OOC: Whoops... time to tie that loose thread up...

IC:

The civilian-run border checkpoints had been left in a state of "chaotic inertia" since the declaration of Martial Law five days earlier. Politics can go where it will, but passports and checks for contraband still had to go on, most customs agents figured.

So the arrival of a Soviet LV-08 at this particular checkpoint gave the customs clerk a shock. She looked at the colonel that emerged from the vehicle, adjusted her glasses and stammered: "W-welcome to T-trivalvia. Ah... Please s-state the nature of your v-v-visit?"

"Sally?" Her supervisor emerged from the back office, saw the Soviet military vehicle and officer, and summed up what was happening. "Sally, why don't you take a break?"

"Y-yes s-s-sir." Relieved, the clerk retreated to some other part of the building.

The supervisor turned to the colonel. "I take it you're here at the request of the Free forces? Don't worry - I'm with the pro-democracy side." He showed his minder to the colonel, with various messages and notes demonstrating his claim.

The supervisor pointed out a map. "Your best bet to get to Sussex would be to send your forces through these roads - avoid border checkpoints north from here" - he tapped a spot on the map - "Most of those spots have Nationalist leanings and they'll probably call Harrington as soon as they spot your vehicles. Just keep going on the roads I mentioned, don't stop until you reach Sussex AFB, and you should be fine."

The colonel nodded and tipped his hat.

"Thank you very much good sir, your help is greatly appreciated, now, if you'll excuse me, I must go get my boys"

Without further ado, except for a firm handshake, the Colonel reboarded his vehicle and turned around, returning to his base.

In only half an hour or so, he'd be back, with an entire division behind him.

SIC:

Diplomatic Communique

http://i181.photobucket.com/albums/x204/Sgt-Alex/OfficialSealTWSP.gif
To: Mr. Harrington
From: President Aszenmil

I'm sure that by know, you'll have noticed how hopeless your position is. As of the moment, the allied and revolutionary forces advance on your former position, as you might have also noticed, the population supports it.

Now, Mr. Harrington, I take it you are moderately smart man, a man that doesnt want to die, and trust me, we dont want you to die either.

So, let's cut to the chase, I'm willing to send a diplomatical agent to negotiate your "escape" from Trivalvia, of course, this will be covered and we'll "invent" your death, attributing it to the insurgents.

P.S: Oh, I forgot to say so, this message will delete itself in two minutes, and has been encrypted to avoid copying. So no propaganda for you.

P.S.S: Contact us if you are interested in the deal.

Signed,
Alejandro Aszenmil, President of The World Soviet Party.

OOC: Just so you know Trivalvia, the so called "diplomatical agent" will try and assasinate Harrington, should he agree to a meeting.

OCC: i tged you TWSP, sorry for interupting.

OCC: i tged you TWSP, sorry for interupting.

TG'd back.

Bivalviaton

MacKenzie folded his hands on the desk. "Within the next few days," he told Clavain, "we plan to move our forces to free the capital city. That move should end the war itself, but, we need to go one step further."

"Harrington," Clavain responded.

"Yes. This fight started in a legal battleground and it must end there, especially if we are to have any legitimacy in the eyes of the public and the world.

"What we need is evidence - evidence of Harrington's attempts to flout the constitution, of his supposed ties to an unidentified foreign power. But, we lack any real intelligence operatives in Trivalviapolis - at least, any that we can trust.

"We also need to insure Harrington's capture. The military can work to try and cut off most of his avenues of retreat, but Trivalviapolis is a large city - over twenty million people. It's safe to assume that unless someone can get to him first, he might successfully hide in the population and escape at some later time."

MacKenzie leaned forward. "That is what I am willing to hire you for. I need someone to get into the Legislature, into Harrington's office itself, and secure both Harrington and the evidence needed to convict him in a court of law. We have to do this before he has a chance to destroy said evidence. You can discuss the details of payment with my subordinates, but I have authorized them to agree to your price... within reason."

The office door opened, and Samantha entered. "Sorry for the interruption, sir, but I think you need to see this right away." She handed him a paper, nodded to Clavain, and left, closing the door behind her.

MacKenzie took a second to read the paper. Damn, he thought. It was a declaration from the Clandonian government - they were throwing increased support behind Harrington.

He looked back up at Clavain, setting the paper to one side. "Do we have an agreement?"

Clavain simply chuckled after hearing MacKenzie's proposition. "I must say, Mr. MacKenzie, you are perhaps a far better person than I -- or my employers, for that matter. Your morality is admirable," he said in an amiable tone.

"But I am afraid you have misunderstood the nature of my services, Mr. MacKenzie," he continued, his tone graver now. "You see, in my line of business, one does not often find many apprehensions -- be they moral or physical."

Clavain reached for his suitcase, placed it on the desk in front of him, popped the two latches, and lifted the lid. He lifted the barrel of his DSR-1 sniper rifle out of the suitcase and moved it into MacKenzie's line of sight. "One of the many foreign powers supporting Harrington's forces decided it would be expedient to put a more competent dictator into power, while using your rebels or their foreign backers as the scapegoat for Harrington's untimely demise."

He replaced the barrel, and lifted out the silenced 9mm. "A disgruntled bodyguard, secretly sympathetic to your cause, sees an opportunity to make history. Or perhaps General Pelletier desired power for himself." He placed it back in the case and pulled out several small vials encased in separate vacuum-sealed containers. "Or, the stresses of managing the insurgency finally take their toll on Harrington. Perhaps it was a heart attack," he said, placing one vial container down on the desk. "Or perhaps it was a bad case of influenza." Another container joined the first. "Or a particularly nasty case of the stomach flu." A third container made a soft, metallic clunk as it hit the desk. After giving MacKenzie a moment to absorb their significance, Clavain swept all three containers back into his case and shut it, replacing it on the floor.

"The evidence of Harrington's misdeeds will be secured easily enough," he said almost dismissively, "but capturing Harrington involves significant complications to my operational planning. My employers do not like complications -- and neither do I." The edge in Clavain's tone in this last statement punctuated his displeasure.

"Perhaps," he said in a more level tone, "now that you've seen what it is that my employers intend, you wish to consider this new information?" A cold and vengeful half-smile slowly appeared on Clavain's face.

MacKenzie leaned back in his chair, regarding the assasin. The display had not only shown him what Clavain was capable of, but also shown him Clavain's willingness to turn those weapons on anyone... including MacKenzie himself. A wrong step and he could make a very powerful enemy.

And, frankly, if the roles were reversed, and Clavain had offered his services to Harrington, would Harrington have these same scruples? How many lives could be spared by having Harrington just die?

MacKenzie shook his head. Dr. Faustus would have to find someone else to keep him company.

"No," he said. "I appreciate that what I am asking would be difficult, but no: Harrington must be taken alive.

"This is more than just removing a man from power - it is making sure that nobody tries to replace him. He cannot be made a martyr for some future rebellion or tyrant. I was once president of this country, and I still have some sense of duty to its safety and stability. When this crisis ends, I want to be sure it ends for good.

"That said, I am not asking you to arrest Harrington, or convey him back to our forces. I am asking you to trap him - remove his personal lines of defense, prevent him from escaping. To be honest, you are perhaps the only person we have with the skills to accomplish this.

"Now: I am willing to pay whatever price you request, but the goals are unchanged. If you cannot meet these goals, or choose to decline what I am asking, you can bill us a consulting fee plus expenses for your return trip to... wherever. Those are my terms. Your decision?"

MacKenzie leaned back in his chair, regarding the assasin. The display had not only shown him what Clavain was capable of, but also shown him Clavain's willingness to turn those weapons on anyone... including MacKenzie himself. A wrong step and he could make a very powerful enemy.

And, frankly, if the roles were reversed, and Clavain had offered his services to Harrington, would Harrington have these same scruples? How many lives could be spared by having Harrington just die?

MacKenzie shook his head. Dr. Faustus would have to find someone else to keep him company.

"No," he said. "I appreciate that what I am asking would be difficult, but no: Harrington must be taken alive.

"This is more than just removing a man from power - it is making sure that nobody tries to replace him. He cannot be made a martyr for some future rebellion or tyrant. I was once president of this country, and I still have some sense of duty to its safety and stability. When this crisis ends, I want to be sure it ends for good.

"That said, I am not asking you to arrest Harrington, or convey him back to our forces. I am asking you to trap him - remove his personal lines of defense, prevent him from escaping. To be honest, you are perhaps the only person we have with the skills to accomplish this.

"Now: I am willing to pay whatever price you request, but the goals are unchanged. If you cannot meet these goals, or choose to decline what I am asking, you can bill us a consulting fee plus expenses for your return trip to... wherever. Those are my terms. Your decision?"

"You are a man of convictions, Mr. MacKenzie," Clavain said after a moment. "You would have to be, to go against a man who is not lightly transgressed. I am not ashamed to admit I am impressed. However, you are also fortunate that my employers and I find your cause admirable, as I am willing to accept this additional complication for the sake of restoring your nation's rightful government. It is not my typical line of work, but democracy must be preserved."

A hitman -- albeit a government-sponsored hitman -- philosophizing about the virtues of democracy, Clavain thought to himself amusedly. There's one for the books.

He stood, straightened his jacket, and grasped the handle of his suitcase. He tossed a small scrap of paper with a series of numbers scrawled on it onto the desk. "$25 million can be wired to this account upon completion of my work. You are a man of honor, Mr. MacKenzie, so I believe I need not include my usual notice about the consequences of attempting to cheat me." He replaced the sunglasses on his face. "And one more thing. As you know the old adage goes, 'no plan survives contact with the enemy.' If for some unforeseen reason Harrington's apprehension is made impossible, am I to deal with him?"

[OOC: Trivalvia, if you could TG me or post in the OOC thread a little more about Trivalviapolis' layout and other relevant information to Delta One's op, that'd be great. I'll look over it and TG you back about my planned course of action to get your O.K.]

OOC: Is Harrington going to answer my SIC communique?

[OOC: Trivalvia, if you could TG me or post in the OOC thread a little more about Trivalviapolis' layout and other relevant information to Delta One's op, that'd be great. I'll look over it and TG you back about my planned course of action to get your O.K.]

OOC: If you want a nice car, we can provide you with a top of the line, armored against small arms, and painted black GRM-Versailles luxury car.

"Thank you ma'am, that's very much appreciated"
The General followed her as she lead him outside, as he observed the scenery around him.
There were a few tanks and soldiers around.
Nothing more.
Franklin couldn't help feeling sorry for the country. But he was here to mend it, which was why he was at Sussex AFB.

[OOC: I'll have to work on a map of Trivalviapolis over the weekend - we'll probably need it for the final push anyway.]

Bivalviaton

MacKenzie nodded. "If you have to injure him to keep him from escaping, yes. Beyond that, use your best judgement."

They shook hands. "I understand that you are a professional and a man of great skill; I have every confidence you'll trap him without difficulty." He showed Clavain out, asking Samantha to handle the financial end of their arrangement.

Trivalviapolis

Harrington watched as the special communique vanished from his screen. I couldn't even print the memo out, damn them! Not for the first time, he cursed the computer era.

An offer to save my life? What kind of fool do you take me for, Aszrenmil? Harrington took a moment to type out a reply and send it off - something like this was too sensitive to trust to diplomats.

The reply was inventive, employing language not normally found in diplomatic communiques, and while Harrington retained just enough presence of mind to avoid insulting the Soviet leadership directly, his comments left enough to be inferred. (For the squeamish, we will not repeat what he typed here; simply trust us, it is weapons-grade invective, and likely banned under the Geneva Convention).

Before some small part of his rational mind could tell him to halt, he had sent the damning response through into the net. He looked at the clock; only a few hours more before Dark Trivalvia was unleashed.

Sussex AFB

Colonel Zala saw General Franklin enter the ad-hoc command area. He saluted. "General, thank you for coming. We're still in the process of gathering troops for the push to Trivalviapolis. Once the Soviets get their forces here, we can get moving.

"For now, we're trying to get our troops integrated. I trust you have kept up to date with the operating procedure we're using between Trivalvian and allied troops?"

Sussex AFB

The Naashan forces had been reinforced by more troops arriving on the C-130's as they worked through the night to establish plans, logistics and merging strategies to weld the allied and free Trivalvian forces into an effective fighting force.

The ranking Naashan officer in the field was Marshal Thomas Hendrie, formerly the captain of the 33rd light infantry regiment. It was a bizzare policy, but for as long as anyone could remember it had always been the case that if no senior officer was present in a small operation then the ranking captain would take the title of Marshal and assume control of the force. As a veteran of the war against the Empress and having fought alongside Ezaltian and Dentaran troops in that conflict, Hendrie was the obvious choice.

He had remained fairly quiet in the meeting up until now, commiting forces wherever the colonel had asked him but otherwise staying silent. Now his PDA lit up, a message from his lieutenants outside confirming that all of the troops were on the ground and making preparations.

"Colonel Zala, all of my forces are on the ground now, the 33rd light infantry is ready to deploy if we are needed on the perimeter. The 5th airborne detachments are almost finished with their preparations, so I have 2000 men ready to deploy now with another 700 within the hour."

"Besides that, I have another 6000 on and around the base from the 34th and 35th light infantry as well as the 1st desert rifles. Those forces will take a little longer to deploy. As you can see, we are short on vehicles heavier than humvees for the moment, but perhaps the Soviets or Antigrans can make up for that?"

Red City, The World Soviet Party

"Well, he said no, it was expected though..."

"I see, tell the army to move up an establish a foward HQ in Sussex, keep sending reports as the information comes.

Oh, by the way, what happened to the Nationalist Forces near our border?"

"We dont know for sure yet sir, I'll relay your orders"

Somewhere Else, Deep in Trivalvian Territory

The two mechanized divisions were making a good time, by now, they had completed one third of their trip to Sussex, General Andrets calculated they would be there in a day or so, adding another one to set up the HQ and finally take the offensive against Harrington and his pals.

The huge force moved through the country-side, scouts first, of course (to prevent surprise attacks) and a force of gunship helicopters ready to strike at a moment's notice should someone decide to strike the formation.

"Yes, I have.
My comm vehicles are fitted with compatible equipment.
Now, sir, can we talk about our forces in the immediate vicinity?
For this to be a combined operation, our forces have to be synchronised together, and this cannot be done when the topic has not being discussed"

Sussex AFB

Zala turned to the map of the country began his briefing. It was a pity that the Soviet forces had not yet arrived, but he could not afford to keep his guests waiting.

Besides, the Soviet officers weren't the only ones absent - Zala had been expecting two of the civilian leaders of the local pro-democracy movements, and both were late. He'll just have to schedule a larger briefing later.

http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n26/andrewc3/trivalviarevolutionmap-3.jpg

"We have uncontested control of the city of Sussex and the air and ground bases in the vicinity. There's no military presence - friendly or enemy - in the cities to our east; civilian police are maintaining order and by all accounts those cities are remaining peaceful.

"The only problem areas in this province lay here and here:" he touched two black dots on the map between Sussex and the province's western border. "A battalion of infantry each has holed up in these cities, erecting barricades and otherwise setting themselves up for a siege: there's 480 troops per battalion, plus support staff."

Zala paused. "I realize that doesn't sound like much. However, these particular battalions are apparently more loyal to Harrington than the troops we overpowered in Sussex. The general strategy we used here probably won't work in those cities. This means we'll have to take them by force - and they'll have essentially a million hostages in each city.

"As for our own forces - Marshall Hendrie has given a breakdown of the Naashan contingent, but Free Trivalvian forces stand at two battalions of infantry and two armoured regiments - 960 troops and 150 tanks in total. We took a battalion prisoner and secured 15 F-39 Copperheads when we took this airbase and the city, but we can't trust the captured battalion nor can we use the planes - no skilled pilots available here on the mainland."

"The current strategy would be to deal with the holdouts south of us with two groups. Each group would be composed of a company of Free Trivalvian units from my own battalion - the 2nd Mechanized - along with a company of tanks either Free Trivalvian or allied and two more companies of infantry from allied forces. The 10th Armoured Regiment will remain here along with some allied infantry forces to secure Sussex against a possible counterattack; there are still two Nationalist tank regiments out there that are unaccounted for.

"There is an independant operation being planned to take New Moncton using the same strategy we employed here in Sussex; its success or failure will determine in part how soon our forces here can push to Trivalviapolis."

Zala paused. "And that, is the situation based on the information I have at the moment," he finished. "Thoughts?"

[OOC: going to be my last post until Tuesday - it's a long weekend up here IRL and I won't have access to the net for a while.]

Outskirts of Sussex, Trivalvia

General Andrets stood on the hatch of his command vehicle as he surveyed the city, the troops had been pulling an all-nighter to get there in time, and indeed, they had managed to do so without suffering any attacks nor casualties.

He put down his binoculars, picking up the radio next to him.

"This Andrets to all forces, standby while we inform the Trivalvians of our arrival, go sleep or something, God knows you'll need it later. Start setting up the HQ though."

His aide, a slighty older Major stood by him, ready to do his bidding.

"Bring the LV-08, we have to go meet the Trivalvian High Command, I'll be back in a few hours."

And with that, he left for the city.

[OOC: Just so there's no confusion for those of you following the escapades of my HCIA hitman, his "real name" is Delta One, but one of his principal cover identities is Nevil Clavain, and I use them interchangeably in some situations; I haven't added a new character to the RP.]

Bivalviaton

MacKenzie nodded. "If you have to injure him to keep him from escaping, yes. Beyond that, use your best judgement."

They shook hands. "I understand that you are a professional and a man of great skill; I have every confidence you'll trap him without difficulty." He showed Clavain out, asking Samantha to handle the financial end of their arrangement.

"Very well, then," Clavain replied to McKenzie's stipulation. Clearly he did not want this bastard dead. Disappointing, to say the least, Clavain thought.

He shook MacKenzie's proffered hand and smiled that predatory smile again. "Harrington is already mine -- he simply doesn't yet know it. I will have him begging for mercy before you in short order."

He left the room with MacKenzie behind him. He gave the man a curt wave as he separated from him, walking back out into the sunlight and off towards one of the piers near where the King Wah freighter had docked. He gave the area a cursory scan to ensure he was not being watched or followed, then removed a secure satellite phone from an inside jacket pocket. He dialed Hatcher's office, since the DDCI had told him that Whitling had not been himself lately, and that had him worried. The call was first protected with 4096-bit encryption, then bounced up to an HCIA satellite disguised as a corporate telecommunications rig, and finally rolled to a secure message dropbox, where Delta One was to periodically update Hatcher about the situation on the ground in Trivalvia.

"Mike, it's Clavain," Delta One said. He wasn't entirely sure this was a secure setting, and didn't want any of the Trivalvians to overhear anything that could lead back to HCIA. "Listen, I met up with our business friend today, and he agreed to a trial run to the mainland. He wants the package to arrive intact, with a minimum of damage, and confirmation of the package's delivery. I need you to double-check the delivery address I e-mailed you, make sure it's right, and get me as much information as you can about the guys who'll be picking it up on the other end. I want to know as much as I can about the area and their history, so I can sound knowledgeable if I get pulled into surprise negotiations. Get back to me a-sap with the details. Thanks."

Sussex AFB

A corporal entered the ad-hoc briefing room and walked up to Colonel Zala. "Sir? The Soviet field commanders have just arrived - their forces are just outside the base now."

Zala nodded. "Have the commanders brought in here, and have Logistics start coordinating with their men - requests for fuel, munitions, as well as a list of what supplies they have brought, if any.

"Oh and could you have the base cafeteria send us some more coffee? This looks like this is going to be an all-nighter..."

Tri-Kilometer Nuclear Power Facility, outside Trivalviapolis.

Soldiers occupied the main control rooms and administration building. A Major Finnegan pointed out several supervisors and administrators. "Have these men arrested and removed," he told his companions.

"What's going on?" demanded one of the administators as a soldier trained an assault rifle on him.

"I'm afraid the 'Free Trivalvian Forces' are about to commit another ghastly act of terrorism, Director. Just cooperate, stay out of our way, and you won't be harmed." He smiled as the men selected began to leave, soldiers escorting them. "President Harrington thanks you for your loyalty."

Once the complex was secure, Finnegan called in engineers. "Start working on shutdown protocols. And snap to it; we don't have long."

Sussex AFB

A corporal entered the ad-hoc briefing room and walked up to Colonel Zala. "Sir? The Soviet field commanders have just arrived - their forces are just outside the base now."

Zala nodded. "Have the commanders brought in here, and have Logistics start coordinating with their men - requests for fuel, munitions, as well as a list of what supplies they have brought, if any.

"Oh and could you have the base cafeteria send us some more coffee? This looks like this is going to be an all-nighter..."


Just as the Corporal ended his introudction, the door opened again, this time, a couple of Soviet Officers went through it, entering the briefing room.

"Greetings Colonel Zala" General Andrets said "A pleasure to meet you"

Zala gave Andrets a brief salute, and motioned to a free spot by the briefing table. "Lieutenant, if you could bring the General up to speed?"

"Of course sir," The lieutenant began to speak to Andrets quickly and in a low voice. Zala turned to the others. "I would like to see strike forces move into the two holdout cities at 6 in the morning, to coincide when the New Moncton attack takes place - that should make Nationalist forces have to choose which place to reinforce, or even paralyze them from reinforcing the besieged positions. Any forces you have that have experience in urban fighting or peacekeeping operations would be best."

Trivalviapolis, Trivalvia

The order for evacuation had arrived on the fax machine tray of the Clandonian ambassador, the country was going down the pan and with other situations of a more serious nature occurring closer to home the Clandonian's couldn't dispatch the forces to quell the Soviet and Trivalvian insurgency.

Bloody hell, countries gone to shit, immediate evacuation...

Looking out of the office into the hanger, full of munitions and grey market military equipment that had been loaned. The roar of a Sabre passing over rattled the glasses on the tray, sighing he walked out of the office onto the heat of the airstrip and the apron. Combat fatigued figures were moving around, armed with Doomani DR-83II's and hip holsters while movements and operations personal moved equipment. Walking up to a tent with a man in dark sunglasses and a cigar in his mouth, TDX .40 on a shoulder holster.

"What's happening Jack?" He shouted across to the approaching man.

"Orders from Clanon, we're pulling out!" He replied in a surprised tone, shading his eyes from the intense glare of the sun.

"Bloody hell, better tell my boys that are out and about!"

"Indeed, there's a battlefleet just a few hundred miles from our position, a complete Royal Marine Battalion and aircraft ready for defence. Soviet forces have breeched the border, what with the situation back at home I suspect the government doesn't want another conflict on its hands."

Talking into the radio on the desk, there were a fair few number of Clandonian civilians at work in the city and teams had been dispatched to retrieve them. The sounds of a Fleet Air Arm HV-4 Goshawk in the distance was a reminder of the military force that had arrived in the region, a helicopter had overflew the airfield and cargo terminal the gunners on the .45 TIW air cooled Miniguns looked down from their optical imaging flight helmets.

A private security soldier looked up, flicking a cigarette into the dirt holding his assault rifle with his optical sight.

"Looks like the booties have arrived."

Nodding to his colleague, eyes hidden by the dark lensed design sunglasses that they could afford with the pay they were getting. Helicopters landing nearby, the sight of Clandonian civilian workers and their families preparing to flee the deteriorating country as rebel and outside forces overwhelmed the place. The Clandonian's had done their bit, supplied Harrington with arms and money, hopefully he could fight off the rebels so one day the Clandonian's could return with stronger forces and expeditionary fleets and keep the pro-Clandonian Harrington administration in place. By the end of the day the Clandonian's would have begun packing, the flag of the Clandonia East India Company was lowered as the Sabres began transporting what equipment and personal remained.

The sight of the battlefleet offshore was magnificent, the guns of the Royal Navy looking fierce some as the sun set. Helicopters and aircraft sorties returning as the battlefleet upped anchor and left heading for the waters of the Haven. By the end of the week the Clandonian clandestine operation would be over, nothing but footprints was left in the old abandoned air cargo terminal. Anything potentially classified had been built in the huge bonfires, nothing but ashes remained of what wasn't packed up and had to be destroyed, the boxes of munitions and piles of Clandonian Crowns were now safely in the hands Harringtons government it was hoped it would be enough of a provision to see them through the civil war.

And so the Clandonian operation was over...

Trivalviapolis, 5:00 AM local time, May 21, 2009

Outside Harrington's office, the aide listened intently to the news of the Clandonian pullout.

The aide had mixed feelings. On the one hand, he was a little relieved that Clandonian forces were leaving the area - if nothing else it meant that the allied nations backing MacKenzie might not commit so much force in what was shaping up to be a final stand. But on the other - the financial fallout of losing Clandonian investment might be damaging.

Especially with Dark Trivalvia set to launch within the next hour.

"Um sir?" The intern who had delivered the news shifted nervously. "Should I go in and tell the President?"

The aide thought for a moment. Harrington's getting too unstable... this news might unhinge him, and heaven knows what he'd do then.

"No," he lied to the intern. "I'll break the news to him. Thanks for telling me."

He waited for the intern to leave the outer office, before entering the inner office, where Harrington sat with a bottle of brandy and a glass. "Sir?"

Harrington looked up - and the aide nearly gasped. It's like he's aged a year in the past day, he thought.

"Well?" Harrington asked. "Have the Clandonians agreed to my request for more troops?"

The aide chose his words carefully. "We still haven't heard from them, sir. But I'm sure they'll come through."

[OOC: CP, could you refresh my memory on what weapons you've supplied the Nationalists with and quantities?]

[OOC: time to unleash the molluscs of war...]

Bivalviaton AFB, 5:45 AM local time

Technicians worked furiously getting the planes of the 6th Squadron ready for takeoff. The F-39 Copperheads were fitted with air-to-air missiles. Outside, the F-22s of the newly-assembled 8th Squadron were being refuelled and fitted with air-to-ground missiles

The planes would be used in critical strikes on the radar stations and communication towers at each of New Moncton's military bases. Since the F-22s were being manned by pilots who had only recieved a crash-course on the planes within the past two days, they would be used for the ground strikes, while the F-39s would serve as escort - the Nationalists still had a squadron on the ground at New Moncton AFB, and they won't be able to count on surprise as before.

Once the planes were ready, they taxied to their runways.

Staging Area south of New Moncton, 6:01 Local Time

Colonel Flynn looked at his watch. Only minutes before the attack was scheduled to begin. By now the planes should be in the air.

"Signal the Alversians," he told his second-in-command. "It's showtime"

Sussex AFB, 6:03 Local Time

Colonel Zala paused before entering his APC and surveyed the gathered forces.

Arrayed in four groups were the collective forces of four nations. Antigran, Naashan, and Soviet forces had divided into their assigned groupings, each with Trivalvian forces in "nominal" command, although in some cases an allied general or colonel was in charge - it would hardly do, after all, for a major or captain to give orders to a general.

One group, consisting mostly of Naashan infantry and some armour, would remain behind to guard the base. There was the possibility that the two Nationalist armoured regiments that had vanished might stage a counterattack. A second group, with Antigrans forming the bulk, would secure Mollusc City, the southern of the two holdout cities, while Zala's own force, with Soviet infantry and armour as support, took the northern holdout. A fourth group consisted of units held in reserve who would nonetheless begin a much slower march towards the direction of Trivalviapolis, to merge with the attacking forces once they had secured their objectives and had time to resupply.

Sadly, the planned attacks on the remaining holdout cities would occur a few hours after the New Moncton strike - the distances were simply too great for them to cross rapidly, and there had been last-minute issues with logistics that had held up the operation. But, Zala thought, enemy reinforcements would have to take at least as long to reach the cities - and by then the allied forces should be inside and entrenched.

He fitted his helmet and entered the APC. "Patch me through to all units - we depart in fifteen minutes."

Trivalviapolis; 6:15 AM local time

Harrington signed his name to a document: Executive Order TH05 the document which granted his authority to enact the Dark Trivalvia incident. With his signature, the order became law.

He put down the pen, regarding the document. Then, he reached for his phone. "General Pelletier, let darkness fall."

The squealing of tracks filled the air as the Antigran convoy pulled in.
One of Franklin's escorts, PFC Lester, watched in awe.
Jesus, it's the whole bloody regiment.
He was right.
A lead Kraker CLR light tank stopped and the commander popped out.

"Soldier! Get me the general!"

Lester turned and legged it towards the command truck and almost tripped over a 140mm towed howitzer's recoil spades.
After the general had jumped off the rear of the vehicle, the tank commander came up to him.

"Sir, are your radios working?"

"Why?"

"We couldn't get to you"

"No, they aren't working"

"Well then, sir..."

He pulled out a peice of paper.
Join the regiment and pull out immediately. Standby for push on mollusc city. Cover advance with all possible artillery.
Clandonians pulled out. Concentrate on Nationalists. make haste, and remember your artillery.

A second group, with Antigrans forming the bulk, would secure Mollusc City, the southern of the two holdout cities, while Zala's own force, with Soviet infantry and armour as support, took the northern holdout.

But, Zala thought, enemy reinforcements would have to take at least as long to reach the cities - and by then the allied forces should be inside and entrenched.

He fitted his helmet and entered the APC. "Patch me through to all units - we depart in fifteen minutes."


General Andrets checked his map one more time, by now, he had already briefed his officers, sent them back to their units and arranged for the air force to "Lead the way!" into enemy territory by doing scout jobs, making sure some bunkers got "decommissioned" and being on stand-by for close support and supply runs.

Now, all that was needed for the Soviets to advance, was for the Trivalvians to give the order. Strange thing, though outnumbering their Trivalvian counterparts almost 3 to 1, the Soviets were quite comfortable with them leading the mission, after all, they understood what it meant to fight for one's nation, to recover it from injustice and a blood-thirsty dictator.

OOC: Can you point the "northern holdout" in the map? I'm kind of confused.

Sussex AFB

Marshal Hendrie watched the combined forces stream out of the base and into the distance. The allies outnumbered the Free Trivalvians vastly, but a Trivalvian commander had been assigned to each operation, understandably. Hendrie smiled at his own counterpart, a captain of the tank regiment also left behind to secure the base.

"I'd like to get preparations underway to fortify this place. We're vulnerable to attack now that the bulk of the allied forces have withdrawn and I don't like not knowing where those Nationalist tanks are."

The Trivalvian officer nodded and he continued.

"I'd like to position your tanks to guard the main roads to the base, hull down wherever possible. I can lend you engineers to assist with some earthworks. Meanwhile, my men will prepare fallback positions behind the shield of the tanks, field guns and such. In addition, we'll set up some ambush teams with Javelin launchers in the areas around the base and designate HMMVW patrols around the area to give us warning of enemy approach."

"If they attack in strength then we'll hold the base for as long as possible in order for friendly air support to arrive. I'll contact the Naashan and Soviet squadrons in TWSP and have them on standby. I think that's all for now, so let's get to it!"

OOC: Is it okay I say I left one or two companies or so behind to help defend the base?

[OOC: Sorry for the inactivity; things have gotten a bit busier on the home front lately. At any rate, Trivalvia, I'm finally going to get Delta One really going. Thanks again for all the valuable information. Once I think up a good, detailed plan for the actual abduction op, I'll TG it to you and we can work any kinks out before I post.]

Bivalviaton Docks, Bivalve Island, 1422 Local Time

Finally, after what seemed like an age to Delta One, his satellite phone vibrated quietly in his pocket. He moved back to the spot where he had made his first call, again surreptitiously scanning his surroundings for potential intruders, and when he was satisfied he would not be overheard, he opened the connection.

“Clavain,” he said quietly.

“Good to hear from you, my friend,” Dominic Hatcher, Deputy Director of Intelligence, replied. “We have the information you require. An encrypted file has been sent to your phone containing a full dossier of the data.”

Delta One pulled the phone from his ear to check -- indeed, there was the file.

“Excellent. Thank you, Mike. This’ll help a ton with the delivery.”

“Certainly, my friend,” Hatcher replied. “Give me a call if you need anything else. Oh, and do give me a call when you reach the mainland?”

“I will. Talk to you later.” Delta One ended the call and used the phone’s touch-screen interface to navigate his way to the encrypted archive file Hatcher had sent to the phone’s hard drive. He typed in the rather long decryption key at the prompt, then began to view the various text and image files contained inside the archive. Inside was a wealth of material -- detailed maps of Trivalviapolis, complete with commentaries about a number of infil and exfil routes, security checkpoints and their respective compositions, and various areas for Delta One to operate from and stash operational materials; high-resolution images of key locations in Trivalviapolis from satellite and Peregrine Mk. II overflights, including the Federal Legislature complex, where Harrington’s office was located; the composition of security forces at the Legislature complex and their armaments; building plans and analysis of potential architectural weaknesses; infil and exfil routes for the Legislature complex; the likely locations within Harrington's office of the incriminating evidence MacKenzie sought; and, perhaps, most interestingly, a complete psychological evaluation of Mr. Tony Harrington. Delta One raised an eyebrow at this last item.

I don’t even want to know where Hatcher pulled this from, he thought to himself. He closed the archive file, re-encrypted it with a second code he had memorized, and shut the phone off. The files in the archive had suggested a naval insertion, as the overflight imagery had shown that Nationalists’ naval assets were few and mainly docked, leaving virtually all the Trivalvian waters between Bivalve Island and the mainland unpatrolled. He began to think about how it would be possible to secure passage to the mainland without having to deal with security on the other side; his briefcase would pose a bit of a problem in that respect. Then his eyes fell on a number of small fishing vessels at one end of the dock. He strode down confidently towards them until he reached one that looked marginally less run-down than the rest of them. He spotted a man on the deck who he presumed was the captain, and called out to him.

“Excuse me,” he said in a friendly but authoritative voice, the sun glinting brightly off the lenses of his sunglasses. “I’m looking to get to the mainland for a business deal tomorrow. My company was supposed to provide me with a ferry or some other passenger vessel to get there, but something must have gone wrong, since I haven’t seen any major passenger vessels pull through this dock in hours. Are you headed across the channel soon, and if so, can I come aboard with you?”

OOC: TWSP - by all means, feel free to leave a company or three. Here is the map showing the current situation:

http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n26/andrewc3/trivalviarevolutionmap-4.jpg

Please note the two cities in East Trivalve still surrounded by Nationalist purple - these are the holdout cities. Mollusc City is the southern one - no escape route for the troops there. The northern "holdout city" is closer to the provincial border - I was too lazy to think up a name.

IC:

Trivalviapolis

Derek Klepic happened to be online when it happened. As one of the leaders of the civilian pro-democracy movement in the city, he spent much of his time not just talking to citizens and organizing work stoppages, but online, conversing with William MacKenzie and with several other pro-democracy spokespeople across the country.

He had just finished sending a message of encouragement to supporters in Vale when his computer blanked out. "The hell...?" He was about to try restarting when he realized that the light he'd left on in the bedroom was out.

Derek looked out the window, at the street below. Although the sun was rising, there were still some streetlights on at this time of day... or rather there were streetlights on. The street, the buildings across the way, everything was dark.

He pulled out his minder and checked - it was still picking up signals from other minders in range - a mere fifty meters - but there was no response from the servers. And the minders themselves would go silent when their batteries died, if the power couldn't be restored. What was going on?

New Moncton,
Mollusc City,
Sussex...

The blackout enveloped the mainland as power stations shut down as one. City after city ground to a halt.

In hospitals, doctors rushed frantically to sustain people on life-support equipment, from elderly patients to babies in incubators, while maintenance people tried to get emergency generators running. Twenty thousand people across the country would die before they succeeded.

Airports suddenly found themselves deaf, dumb, and blind. Airplanes on landing approach had to veer off when ground guidance and running lights vanished. Most tried to divert to airports on the still-powered island territories or within Moorington and TWSP borders. Several planes, already low on fuel, failed to reach their destinations, crashing in fields, forests, and hills across Trivalvia, their wreckage burning in the morning light.

The blackout spread to East Trivalve as well, as power stations there suddenly faced a massive drain coming from the rest of the mainland. Technicians and supervisors tried in vain to manage the increased load on their systems, resulting in brownouts and blackouts through much of their assigned sectors.

Military bases in the Nationalist-held territories were prepared, their own generators kicking in as soon as the main power grid went dark. But in the Free regions, there was no warning...

Harrington Trivalvians initiate Mass-Blackouts

http://www.belilovskypediatrics.com/images/blackout.jpg
A Trivalvian city held by Free Trivalvians woke up to find it's power sources missing

Thousands die due to lack of electric energy

Today, the Nationalist Trivalvians struck again, this time against populace as a whole by cutting and/or turning off all of the power centrals in the nation.

No one was spared, even hospitals which house elderly and newborns suffered from the lack of power while the staff rushed to stabilize the patients and get the generators working, needless to say, thousands died when their life-support machines just stopped working.

The Soviet Army working with the Free Trivalvian troops was forced to make a sudden stop to help civilians cope with the almost natural disaster that befell them, helping set emergency generators and gathering food and water for the needed. Once again, the dark (no pun intended) shadow of their former president, Harrington, looms over the innocent.

The Soviet Goverment has already issued an official condemnation of this act which can only be described as a crime, numerous sources reported that this has only served to harden the resolve of the Naashan, Antigran, Soviet and Trivalvian soldiers fighting to free the nation from tiranny.

President Aszenmil was quoted as saying, "This is a criminal act, and will not go unpunished, if Mr. Harrington can hear me, rest assured, you will not be spared from the ass-beating that we will hand to your so called 'loyalist' soldiers".

There has been no comment by official Trivalvian sources, but it is expected there will be one soon.

Only time will tell how will this move affect the war.


Story from SNN:
http://www.ssn.com.twsp/go/ln/ww/f_news/5331897.html

© SSN 1976

Antigran location map (highlighted in red are antigran forces)
http://i151.photobucket.com/albums/s129/antigr/trivalviamap_location_mollusccitypr.jpg

IC:A town of about 50,000 inhabitants had been the sleeping place of two Antigran companies for the night.
Now, chaos.
It was 10 AM. Two hours after the troops had left the town square, camping destination of choice for that night.
Not a single light to be seen.
A Jeep flew into the town square, certainly doing at least twice the speed limit.
Major Rockingham was in the vehicle, and jumped out before the driver had dropped the speed below 30mph.
As soon as he had heard the news of what happened, he had rounded up C company's infantry and engineers in a record time of ten minutes and set off as fast as they could.

The mini-convoy of trucks, jeeps, and an APC skidded to a halt and the men leaped out.
The townspeople were both relieved and slightly catious at the sight of the soldiers, but their fears were put aside as the troops put in their effort to get things under control.
The Major surveyed what was going on as a Captain jogged past him with a small hand-held generator in his hands, courtesy of the engineers.
A crowd of medics and engineers were setting off in a jeep, heading towards the hospital.
A transport helicopter flew overhead, ready to take hospital patients to the MASH (Mobile Army Surgical Hospital) at base camp.

Those assholes will pay dearly.

War Room, Bivalviaton AFB,
6:30 AM, May 21, 2009 (20 minutes after Dark Trivalvia was initiated)

"Is there any report from Sussex AFB?" General Wellington demanded from one of his lieutenants?

"Nothing sir. We're trying to raise commanders in the field."

"Let me know the instant you get a connection!"

The door opened and William MacKenzie entered, his tie undone and his hair mussed, followed by the soldier that had been sent to wake him and by Samantha. Wellington paused a second as he regarded the aide's professional appearance. What does she do, sleep in her suit?

"What's happening, General?" MacKenzie asked. Wellington mentally shelved his questions and got back to the task at hand.

"Blackout, sir. As far as we can determine, the entire mainland has gone dark."

MacKenzie walked over to the map. "Everything?"

"Not quite. A number of military bases in areas controlled by Harrington are still powered, but everything else, civilian and military are..." Wellington stopped, struck by a horrifying thought. "Lieutenant! Give me power station locations and times they went dark, patch them on the map."

"Yes sir. We might not be too accurate on times, though."

"Best estimate, then. Quickly!"

The lieutenant began to make queries at his workstation, and before long white dots appeared across the mainland followed by times.

Wellington looked at the dots and times... and saw a pattern. "Good lord," he breathed. "That's got to be it."

MacKenzie frowned. "Would you care to fill me in, Mark? What's got to be it?"

Wellington turned to face MacKenzie. "A year ago, Harrington asked us to draw up a contingency to deal with a possible terrorist attack on our information base - what are the weak points in our communications infrastructure, how many had to be taken down and in what manner to disable the country. I assembled a think-tank and had a report submitted - entitled the 'Dark Trivalvia Contingency'.

"Basically: while conventional communication channels - television, radio, telephones - are still centralized, the internet and wireless networks that most of our industries and government centers depend on are so decentralized that no one location could be attacked with any real effect. So: if a terrorist group - or a hostile nation - wanted to disrupt our communications, they would have to make an attack on a more basic level."

MacKenzie's face turned white. "The power grid."

Wellington nodded. "The report included recommendations on how to prevent or mitigate the effects of such an attack - including emergency power stations installed at military bases should the main grid go down. The fact that Harrington's bases are still powered while our mainland bases went dark suggests they knew in advance what was coming."

Samantha was looking over the map. "Something else: power stations in East Trivalve remained functioning, but there are several power outages and brownouts being reported all through the province."

"That has to a side effect of the main blackout," MacKenzie said. "There's now a huge drain on power lines running between East Trivalve and the rest of the mainland - the stations in the province are now trying to power the entire country. There's no way they can handle the drain."

"What about plants on Bivalve Island and Isle d'Monovalve?" asked a lieutenant.

"No physical connections between island and mainland power grids," Wellington replied. "In fact that's the only reason why the situation in East Trivalve was not repeated here."

"Sir? I've got Colonel Zala on the line. And... yes... getting links with allied commanders in the field. Putting them on speaker now."

Wellington turned to face the speakerphone on the table. "Colonel Zala, report!"

"We're cut off from our bases at Sussex. And there's no communication on civilian frequencies... but we're getting some alarming signals from some planes in flight - maydays, requests for ground assistance. What's going on, sir?"

Wellington filled the field commanders in. "This is going to change our game plan considerably. We need to restore power quickly, before lives are lost."

MacKenzie frowned. "Not sure we can move that fast," he said sadly.

Wellington ignored him. "Zala, your strike group is going to have to bypass the city you're approaching - cross the provincial border into Central Trivalve and make for the nearest power plants.

"My suspicion is that the plants have been shut down manually, rather than physically damaged. You will need to secure them, and get them back online."

"Sir, that could take hours."

"Try, Colonel. Millions are counting on us. If our allies have any paratroop forces they can dispatch, we can feed you plant locations.

"The Antigran strike force will have to continue to Mollusc City - there's a nuclear plant there that went down at the same time as the plants in Central Trivalve. The design's a CANDU class - so no danger of a meltdown, but watch your fire! We'll need that plant intact.

"The only good news is that the occupying forces in Mollusc City will likely be occupied with pacifying the population - if you can take the plant first, and press inward, you should be able to overpower them without any serious losses or collateral damage to the city.

"Everyone: take technicians alive - they can probably help restore the plants to operating status. But give any occupying soldiers in or near the power plants no quarter - we've no time to collect prisoners.

"Godspeed, everyone. Save what you can."

ANTIGRAN BASE CAMP

65 minutes after blackout

"All Battalions, report, report!"

General Franklin's voice boomed out of a loadspeaker on a comm truck.

"This is an emergency. Everyone captain and above, get to the compound!

Inside the vehicle, Franklin flicked off a switch and leaped outside.
He pelted towards where all the other officers would be gathering.
Once there, he jumped onto a Jeep's bonnet and stood up.

"Orders from the Trivalvians. We gotta get to the city nomatter what.
There's a nuclear power plant that we have to take intact.
Plan's the same, people. We can use the Marauder MBTs and Raren SPGs that were just flown in to form a battering ram. Third Battalion's up front in the MICVs and on the backs o' the tanks, First Battalion will follow.
Second will be split in three.
One third to help around the towns, one third reserve force, and one third to guard base camp and artillery.
The covering artillery will be truck-mobile towed guns, mainly 105 and 140mm.
That's all, move out!"

------ Twenty-Five Minutes Later ------

"All guns, com-mence fire!" Yelled Rockingham.
The 105 and 140mm light gun batteries, spread out all over the place,
received the command through their various communications and fired as one.
It was unlikely that there would be enemies on the path ahead for about 5km, but the majority were firing ahead, where enemy recon would sure to be.
Almost immediately after the first shells were fired, the Third Battalion spearhead rolled out, followed by First Battalion.
Franklin was, as usual, up front, this time in an APC-cum-command-and-control-vehicle.

[OOC: and another multi-scene post...]

Military Prison 7, New Moncton GFB

The lights flickered in the cell for a minute before returning to full strength.

One of the Naashan journalists looked up at the lights, then at the only non-Naashan in the cell. "What was that?"

Yvonne Carter simply looked at the lights, her eyes narrowed. Technical glitch? If not, then maybe...

A rap on the door startled them all. Two guards entered; one held a rifle at the ready in case they tried anything, the other brought in a tray containing sandwiches.

Yvonne noticed this change of protocol. "Is something wrong with the cafeteria?" she asked the guard handing out the food.

"Not my place to ask, ma'am," the guard replied. "We've just been ordered to feed the prisoners in their cells." He handed her a sandwich.

Their job done, the guards left and the door clanged shut.

Explains the sandwiches - no sharp utensils to attempt an escape with - or commit suicide, Yvonne thought. She sighed and began to unwrap the tissue-thin paper covering the sandwich. A tiny piece of folded paper fell out into her lap.

She picked it up, unfolded the paper - and stared at the message written there: Hang on a little longer.

Startled, she looked up at the door - and now she recognized the guard that had served them. It was the same guard that had escorted the Naashans to this cell - the only one that showed any sign of regret over what was happening.

Yvonne looked at her fellow prisoners - they'd all recieved small notes; no need to ask what they said.

"Better eat up," she told them. "Something tells me we'll need the energy soon."

Trivalviapolis

Derek Klepic had not wasted time - using the minder's limited range, he'd sent out a message for an impromptu meeting. Now half a dozen people were sitting in his darkened living room.

"...It's not just the blackout," said one person, a woman who'd worked at a local ISP company. "There are soldiers actively ripping out Wi-Fi repeaters across the city."

"That tells us they're trying to disable the network directly - they'll probably try to move against servers as well," Klepic said.

"Those they can reach," said another. "This city alone has over ten thousand repeaters - almost a thousand servers both great and small. There's no way they can get them all."

"But it explains the blackout," Klepic replied. "By knocking out the power, they've cut our ability to organize on a city-wide level, much less on provincial or national levels - when the power comes back on, they'll have gutted the network. If they tried to take out servers before, we'd have had advance warning by the first repeaters going offline. Now we're a step behind them."

"Servers and repeaters are easy to replace," said the ISP employee. "Enough people have laptops and desktops that can be linked to serve as a server - and you can get antennae and repeaters from any electronics store. But without power..."

Derek nodded. "So we'll need power." He walked over to the window and looked at the street below, noting the cars. Probably a fifth of those cars had methanol fuel cells in them - had Harrington not cut off funding for the auto companies to convert cars there would have been a lot more fuel-cell powered vehicles on the road, converting methanol to steam and electricity...

Wait... electricity. A germ of an idea began to form. He looked back at the others. "Any of you know how to remove a fuel cell from a car?"

Mollusc City

The Antigran barrage had taken out a small lookout post set up by the Nationalist occupiers. They hadn't a chance to radio a warning - but the explosions from the shells hitting announced the attack easily enough.

The lieutenant-colonel who'd assumed command of the city cursed at this new development. Since the blackout started there had been a growing panic among the citizens; he'd had to issue some platoons to suppress riots already. With the prospect of an enemy attack, he knew that defeat was inevitable - if the enemy soldiers didn't kill them, a million rioting civilians would.

He had to impose order, and stop the invasion. But - so far from friendly forces, how could he do it?

There was a way, he realized suddenly. It was distasteful, but it had the advantage of killing two birds with one stone. The lieutenant-colonel began to issue orders for his troops to round up civilians and gather them at Lakeside Park - the closest clear spot to the enemy attack.

Some small part of his mind protested at what he was about to do. He knew it was an act of a desperate man - that at best it would only delay the inevitable. But, damnit, he was out of options. A good soldier used what resources were available to him.

Two hundred civilians were gathered at the park, and then the lieutenant-colonel sent his ultimatium through the city and toward the advancing enemy: surrender, or one civilian will die every ten minutes.

OOC: I presume I'm still involved in the rescue op.

Military Prison 7, New Moncton GFB

The Paratroop let the RPG settle before firing it at the gate hinge. It was blown off with extreme ferocity, forcing the nearby Guards to take cover. The Marines charged through the smoke and dust left by the blast and fired at the Guards. Several collapsed as they were hit by the M14 rounds. The Guards in the towers and in the building began to fire back. Two Paratroops twisted and fell, their guns clattering along the concrete floor. An GR9C was set up near the entrance and this began to fire at the Trivalvian soldiers. The Paratroop squad reached the wall of the prison and fired grappling hooks up to the window, hoping that they would catch on a ledge or a bar.

They were lucky and, once the rope had been checked, slung their rifles over their shoulders and began to scale the side of the prison. Several were hit in the back by Machine gun fire and toppled to the bottom. The rest went on and let the battle below continue.

[OOC: you're still involved, and glad to see you again!]

Sounds of weapons fire could be heard through the cell wall. Yvonne tensed as a shockwave from a distant explosion rattled the building.

Minutes later they could hear people running in the halls - cell doors being opened - the stattico sound of automatic rifles being fired.

And screams.

The cell door swung open and three soldiers entered; two clad in full body armour and helmets, the third in standard uniform without a helmet. That last was an officer - Yvonne recognized lieutenant's insignia on his collar. Both guards levelled rifles at the prisoners.

The lieutenant drew his pistol. "Yvonne Carter, Naashan spies, you have all been found guilty of treason, espionage, and sedition. You have been sentenced to death by the Trivalvian government, which I am now charged to carry out." He aimed the pistol right at Yvonne's head...

... and the guard on the left unholstered his own pistol and in a fluid motion shot the lieutenant through the head.

The remaining guard turned, bringing his rifle to bear on his rebellious partner, who in turn was trying to get his own rifle ready - his pistol wouldn't penetrate the soldier's body armour.

Seeing her chance, Yvonne leaped at the guard; knocking him off balance. The rebelling guard brought the butt of his rifle up and slammed it down on the other guard's head. The guard slumped to the floor, unconscious.

The guard then undid his helmet straps and pulled it off. Yvonne recognized the guard that has slipped her the message earlier. "Thanks, soldier," she said, as she proceeded to strip the unconscious guard of his weapons. "What is going on out there?"

"We're under attack. Some force just rushed the east entrance and is making their way here. Once base command figured out their goal was the prison we got orders to kill the prisoners here." He shook his head. "I'd only got a chance to get attached to the team sent to kill you."

"Not that I'm complaining, but why did you do it, Private...?"

"O'shea. Private O'shea, ma'am. I... I'm not too sure myself." Now that the immediate danger was past, the soldier slumped against the wall. "I've never been very political, but when the order to kill the prisoners came through..." He began to shake. "Dear God, they're going to hang me for this..."

Yvonne stood and grabbed him by the soldiers. "You did the right thing, Private. But we're going to need your help to get out of here."

O'shea gulped and nodded. "I might be able to get you four to a locker room; you can change into some technicians' smocks there... after that, I guess we'll have to play it by ear."

"Can you get us to the force attacking the prison?"

"Maybe... assuming they don't mistake us for hostiles."

"Worth a shot." Yvonne handed pistols to two of the Naashan journalists. "I hope you know how to use these." Taking the automatic rifle in her own hands, she nodded to the door. "Let's get moving. Private, you're on point."

Military Prison 7, New Moncton GFB

The Paratroop attached the pack to the wall beside the window and, signalling to the ground, kciked off and swung away from the bomb. It exploded and threw a large section of wall out the window and down to the ground. The 8 Paratroops swung in and unslung their weapons. Four guards were cut down as they ran through a doorway to reach the men. They moved deeper into the building and spotted a group of technicians with an enemy soldier. He didn't seem to have a weapon and so they simply shouted "Freeze! hands on your head! now!" suddenly a door was kicked open and the view obstructed with several more guards.

One Paratroop was riddled with bullets before he could react but the others swiftly cut down the enemy. They turned and noted that the original soldier hadn't moved, although the technicans had gone a little white at the sight of the dead Alversian who had several bullet marks in his face.

"Where can we find a Naashan Journalist?" the Seargeant asked "Where!?!?"

East of Sussex AFB, 7:04 AM local time, May 21, 2009

Not long after the forced blackout began, the 14th and 20th Armoured Regiments started to move. Located as they were - far from resupply, deep behind enemy lines, and bypassed by the very forces they were set up to stop, the regiment commanders decided on a desperate gamble.

The few recon forces left to them in East Trivalve had confirmed that "Free Trivalvian" forces and various foriegn troops were gathering at Sussex AFB. That base, was the closest base with any surviving supplies, and a chance to strike back at the enemy.

Suicide? Most likely. But, like everything in this war so far, there were no better choices available. The regiments would expend the last of their fuel to get to and attempt to take over Sussex AFB - or leave that base a smoking ruin as their dying effort.

East of Sussex AFB, 7:04 AM local time, May 21, 2009

Not long after the forced blackout began, the 14th and 20th Armoured Regiments started to move. Located as they were - far from resupply, deep behind enemy lines, and bypassed by the very forces they were set up to stop, the regiment commanders decided on a desperate gamble.

The few recon forces left to them in East Trivalve had confirmed that "Free Trivalvian" forces and various foriegn troops were gathering at Sussex AFB. That base, was the closest base with any surviving supplies, and a chance to strike back at the enemy.

Suicide? Most likely. But, like everything in this war so far, there were no better choices available. The regiments would expend the last of their fuel to get to and attempt to take over Sussex AFB - or leave that base a smoking ruin as their dying effort.

East of Sussex AFB, 8:00 AM local time, July 17, 2007 (Soviet Calendar)

Just an hour after the 14th and 20th Armoured Regiments left their hiding places, they were spotted by a passing-by fighter jet.

Unable to identify the formations as hostile, the pilot merely shrugged and kept his planned course, delegating the thought to the back of his mind, as an amusing thing to report later, when he landed.

OOC: I'm probably going to leave on Friday, for about a week, and with minimal internet access.

Trivalvia, you are cleared to use my troops while I am gone.

OOC: Will do, TWSP.

Antigr - you are aware that the only Trivalvian forces inside Mollusc City are Nationalist forces, right? There shouldn't be a Free Trivalvian soldier within a hundred kilometers...

Sussex AFB Main Operations

Colonel Zala might be the ranking officer for Free Trivalvian forces in this part of the country, but when it came to base operations and logistical support, Chief Warrant Officer Wilkes was the top authority. And right now he wished he could hand that authority off to someone else.

The sudden blackout had caught the base by surprise, rendering their satellite uplink, radar, and communication systems useless. Wilkes had ordered engineers to get the backup generators under the base running - only to be told of the damage to several key lines and one ruptured fuel tank caused in the initial move to take the base.

While the techs worked to restore the backup generators, Wilkes had ordered fuel cells ripped from some of the trucks still on base and wired together. The resulting power would not be enough to power the main radar or satellite uplink systems, but short range communication with forces in the field would be possible.

"Are we running," he asked the technician at the comm console.

"Just about... There we go." The tech grinned as the console lit up. "Not much range for communications - we might get fifteen kilometers for another hour."

"We should have the backup generators up by then," Wilkes said. "Now, let's see if we can get in touch with the Naashan recon teams. I hope they're having better luck than we are..."

Twelve kilometers east of Sussex AFB

The first tanks of the 14th Armoured had crested a hill when the troop commander called a halt. The tanks stopped, their turrets gradually sweeping the area, searching for a target. Behind them, other troops of the 14th Armoured gradually turned onto side roads or cut across fields.

The troop commander popped the hatch open on his tank and scanned the area with binoculars. There was no immediate sign of trouble, but something didn't feel right.

[OOC: Naasha if one of your teams set up to ambush tanks wanted to take a shot, go ahead...]

OOC: Will do, TWSP.

Antigr - you are aware that the only Trivalvian forces inside Mollusc City are Nationalist forces, right? There shouldn't be a Free Trivalvian soldier within a hundred kilometers...

OOOOOOOOPs.

I understood that post wrong.

Mollusc City
15:32

Sergeant Forrest and his recon squad were finally in the city itself.
The majority of the force was up to a mile behind, and the lead infantry were waiting not 30 metres away.

"Oh, Holy Fuck"

That was Travis, one of the five in the eight-strong squad equipped with a sniper rifle.

"What?"

"The Nationalist bastards have decided to round up some civilians........and kill them, by the looks of it"

He took another look through his binoculars.
The Sergeant took his turn.
As did the rest of the squad.
Silence. For about five seconds, mind, as the Sarge picked up his field radio and got onto FHQ.

"Urgent! Urgent! This is Sergeant Forrest, recon s-o-five, and we...........

After a lengthy explanation, he put down the radio.

"What happened, sarge?"

"Wait and see"

They all jumped, apart from Forrest, when two Platoons of C Company, Third Battalion showed up with all manner of long range weaponry.
In a matter of three minutes, every sniper and good rifleman in A, B, C, and D company had shown up with scoped rifles of all sorts from .243 to .55 calibres, and even a 20mm cannon dismounted from a truck.
They received their orders.
They aimed their weapons.
They fired almost as one.
Forty men went down.
It was not two seconds before the second salvo rang out.


"Holy Freakin' cow" was all Franklin said for ten seconds.
He had received the news and joined up with his men in a matter of seconds.
However, in spite of all the nationalists dying, he had a fledging concern.
What if they get to the civilians before we get to them?
However, his fears were put aside as he decided to take his SMG and blew someone's head off.
The most entertaining part was when the 20mm AA gun was put to deadly use after a loading problem had been fixed.
The first shells streaked towards a high-ranking officer of some sort and splattered all of his lower body over a soldier, who in turn went down in a hail of Armour Piercing.


Ten minutes later, and the shooting was over.
Unfortunately, some civilians had been shot too, by nationalists.
This had not gone to plan.
The reloading time and accuracy of the sammler calibres had been underestimated, as could be expected of such a rushed and greatly pressured action.
Then the order went out.
"Charge!"
The eighty or so assembled men got up and pelted towards the city, followed by the tanks a few hundred yards behind.
"Get to the park! Save the civilians!"
Hopefully, no opposition would be waiting, but if there was, .243 Jacketed Hollow Point rounds would be waiting.

12km East of Sussex AFB

Sergeant Abayer of the 1st Desert Rifles waved his squad into cover as the tanks came into view, up on the ridgeline to the east. The tanned six man strong Surdunni patrol quickly took shelter behind a hedgerow as he reached for his radio.

"HQ, this is Red Squad, please respond."

"Red Squad, we're running on makeshift power, make it quick."

"Multiple armour units sighted. Bullseye 095, 12.5 klicks. Declare, over."

"No friendlies on area, repeat, target is hostile."

"Thanks, HQ. Requesting new orders."

"Withdraw immediately to the next hill. Establish defensive positions, reinforcements are enroute."

***

Meanwhile, the leading vehicle of another Nationalist column was about to run into a nasty surprise. The country road that led down from the hill and toward the next was narrow, allowing the tanks to travel in single file only, the loose dirt surface of the track had also allowed for the deployment of an AT2 mine, primed to pierce the underside of the first vehicle that travelled over it.

Once the trap had been sprung, two Javelin fireteams would suppress the column with their anti-tank warheads, hopefully halting progress for a while and allowing the infantry to melt away back into the countryside while a more substantial defense was organised.

Mollusc City

The lieutenant-colonel cradled a wounded shoulder as he fled back to where his remaining forces were stationed. He had just watched a full platoon of troops cut down... without the enemy even providing a target!

Only a chance incident had saved his own life. The soldier next to him had been shot right in the center of the head, and fell against him just as the second volley had rung out. The bullet that had intended to go through the colonel's heart had instead gone through a shoulder. He'd laid still, playing dead, until the sniper shots had ended, then made his break.

A few civilian hostages had died in an attempt to prove his resolve, but...

Damn them, damn them all!

The time had come to cut their losses and run.

He reached the tents that were serving as his HQ. "Cut and run!" he ordered the surprised lieutenants and captains gathered. "They're in the city!"

A sargeant bearing medic's colours stepped toward him. "I'd better take a look at that wound..."

The colonel waved her away, wincing at the pain. "No! No time! Get as many troops out of the city and scatter!"

"Sir?"

"You heard me! No way they'll let us live now... not after what we attempted..." The colonel ripped the Trivalvian insignia off his uniform. "If we're lucky, we can hide in the nearby towns, get rid of our uniforms, make it out of the country."

A lieutenant said, "Are you suggesting we abandon our duty? What if there are reinforcements on the way...?"

"Why not? We've been left behind to die, don't you get it? There's no help coming!"

The others looked at each other, then slowly they, too, ripped insigniae from their uniforms.

"We'll need vehicles... hotwire cars or trucks, but leave the APCs behind... no, better yet, booby-trap them. We should still have enough explosives to take out a good number of streets and get away in the confusion..."

Military Prison 7

O'shea held up a fist, and Yvonne motioned for the Naashan escapees to stop. Around the corner they could hear the sound of cell doors being opened.

"Another death-squad," O'shea mentioned to Yvonne. "They must be starting this wing."

"How many?"

"Same as what went up against you. An officer and two soldiers."

Yvonne nodded. She turned to the Naashan's. "Keep down. We'll be back in a second. Private, if you can take out the soldiers, I'll handle the officer."

O'shea nodded, and readied his rifle.

"On three. One. Two. Three!"

They turned the corner and opened fire. The officer went down in the first volley. One soldier took a bullet in the neck, but the other was able to get to cover and return fire.

"Admiral!" O'Shea pushed Yvonne out of the line of fire... and was rewarded for his heroism with a spray of bullets. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Yvonne let loose a blast of automatic fire in the enemy soldier's direction, and got back around the corner to where the Naashan's were waiting. She cursed as more shots buried themselves in the wall. The soldier was still alive.

She turned her head as gunfire erupted in the hallway they had come from. "Damn it. Sound's like we're trapped."

Military Prison 7

A clatter of gunfire later and two Prison Guards fell in a heap at the end of the doorway. The Marines came through the door, although one was riddled with bullet and collapsed in a heap on the floor. The others fire three volley bursts at the Trivalvian Guard. One of the bursts hit him between the eyes and threw him back into the wall behind. Two Marines hopped over O'shea's body and covered the doorway with their weapons. The Leader of the Marines took of his helmet and saluted "Sergeant Adam Murray, Alversian 3rd Paratroop Regiment!" he said to Yvonne. The rattling of gunfire could still be heard outside.

Military Prison 7

"Great!" Answered one of the three Naashans. "Now, can you get us out of here?"

Military Prison 7

The Sergeant just grinned, "Private Walker! Bring those charges up!" he peered out through a nearby window "Hmmm..." he said after a little while "We're facing the East side. That'll do. Blow it!" he shouted this last instruction to a Private who was attaching a pack to the window bars. "Get down!" Murray shouted just before Walker called "Fire in the Hole!". The wall was thrown outwards by the force of the explosion, forcing a Trivalvian Machine gun team to quickly scramble out of the way of the falling debris. One of the other Marines took a length of rope from his pack and tied it to an iron bor in the cell door. "What do you know about absailing?" the Sergeant asked as he invited them to take the rope.

Military Prison 7

"I took some repelling courses in my youth," Yvonne replied. "A little rusty but under the circumstances I think I can manage."

There was a lot more she wanted to ask - chief among them if she could trust the Alversians; she had no knowledge after all of the current situation. However, this was clearly a case of "enemy of my enemy". Once they were out of the prison, though, she would have many questions for her rescuers.

[OOC: Okay, I didn't mean to drop the ball for the past few days - life got in the way. Sorry!]

East of Sussex AFB

The troop commander, still uncertain but not seeing any obvious signs of danger, signalled the tanks to resume their advance. His tank started to roll forward and down the hill...

... and one tread ran over a mine.

The explosion destroyed the tread and front axle, shrapnel scattering into the bushes. An accompanying shreik pierced the air as the tank's engine began to tear itself apart.

All five tanks in the troop came to a halt, turrets swinging in search of targets.

East of Sussex AFB

"The lead tank is immobilised, suppressing fire!"

The Naashan infantry squad that had laid the mine retreated away from the tanks, using the natural cover of the countryside to disrupt the enemy lines of sight. The supporting Anti-Tank squad opened fire with their two Javelin missile launchers fron further down the hill, relying on the heat signatures of the tanks to guide their missiles to the targets.

I'm sorry I can't make an proper IC post, (Time presses) but a new Colonel has just been flown in, going by the name of Ralph Starkey.
He will be in command of 4th and 5th Battalions back at Sussex, each battalion has about 600 men (A regiment is 3000).

The two battalions together will be known as 'Battle Group Sussex', and are fully equipped with artillery peices of 105, 140, and 155mm calibres, as well as tanks and all manner of man-portable weaponry.
As soon as nationalist forces get within range, expect big lumps of solid HE shell raining down from the sky.

Military Prison 7

"I took some repelling courses in my youth," Yvonne replied. "A little rusty but under the circumstances I think I can manage."

There was a lot more she wanted to ask - chief among them if she could trust the Alversians; she had no knowledge after all of the current situation. However, this was clearly a case of "enemy of my enemy". Once they were out of the prison, though, she would have many questions for her rescuers.

"Go! Go! Go!" the Sergeant shouted as more guards attempted to force through the doors. They quickly jumoed behind cover as the Alversians let rip with their machine carbines. The Sergeant then threw the rope to Yvonne "Go! now!" he shouted over the gunfire, indicating to the fire fight below in the courtyard.

[OOC: no worries on time, Antigr - I'm still petitioning for a 30 hour day, myself :D ]



[I]Military Prison 7:

Yvonne took the rope in hand. With a last look at the Naashans - her cellmates for the past few days - she took a deep breath and began her descent.

New Moncton and surrounding area:

The blackout had thrown Colonel Flynn's nicely planned attack into disarray. The original plan called for the 41st Battalion to reinforce the Alversian strike and secure the ground forces base. However, now, two companies of the 41st were instructed to bypass New Moncton and proceed to Saxon Bay City, where a series of wind-farms under Nationalist control were located. Those farms - and the nuclear plant that Flynn sent the 33rd Battalion to secure - would be vital in restoring power to this part of Trivalvia. Thus, only 1 company was left to take the base. Flynn hoped it would be enough.

Further, the planned demonstrations that would have helped to tie up Nationalist occupiers were being replaced by unplanned riots. With most of his force now divided, that left only the 32nd Battalion and the 11th Armoured to secure the air force base and then take the city.

At least the airstrikes had gone off perfectly - large craters now dotted many of the runways in New Moncton AFB, and the F-39s stationed there could not take off. What few that did get off the ground were now outnumbered... and lacking ground radar support. There would be no 'death from above' from the Nationalists.

East of Sussex AFB

A tank exploded as a Javelin strike penetrated its munitions bay. The three surviving tanks lined their turrets up in the direction that the Javelins came from. Two began to fire 125 mm shells, while the middle tank sprayed the brush with bullets from its 7.62 mm coaxial machine gun. One more tank suffered a hit on its turret from a Javelin - its (inactive) machine gun was torn from its mount, and the turret was jammed in position.

Belatedly, the delay caused either by a machine fault or human error, smoke grenades fired from their launchers, blanketing the immediate area.

Elsewhere, other tanks continued their advance, but slower, looking out for possible ambushes.

Mollusc City

Not every Nationalist trooper cut and ran. Three platoons garrisoned themselves in various buildings through the city - some overlooking the now-abandoned and boobytrapped APCs. When enemy forces attempted to secure the APCs or remove the booby-traps, the hidden troopers would ambush them.

They could not hope for a victory, but when Antigran forces arrived, they planned to make the foreigners pay a heavy price.

OOC: I'm back, bitches!

Military Prison 7

The Alversians waited until the last Naashan was safely down and away from the prison walls before calling for a withdrawal. The Paratroops, dragging or carrying their wounded with them, began to retreat to fall back positions just outside the Prison fence. The Trivalvian Guards and local troops, wisely opted not to follow into the waiting .50cal HMG's which waited to cover the Paratroops.

Once casualties had been figured out and the wounded tended to, the unit began to head east towards the pick-up point, where they could be airlifted to safety. The Paratroops were exhausted but satisfied with their nights work. Hard battles were always the best.

Casualties
30 Alversians KIA
55 Alversians WIA

Now that they were out of immediate danger, Yvonne Carter decided that she was due some answers.

"I need to speak to your commander," she told Sgt. Murray, "and I need a radio link to General Mark Wellington; now."

Murray stood to attention "through here ma'am" he said pointing to a tent that had been set up. The Paratroops had decided to stop and regain strength after the battle. Tents had been set up and sentries posted to watch the perimeter. A tall man, with a grey moustache and equally grey hair but with a face that suggested much younger energy stood over a map in the centre of the tent. He looked up and offered his hand "Major Michael Frenc at your service Ma'am"

Yvonne looked at the Major's hand. I doubt that he would be so friendly if I was his prisoner, she decided. She shook his hand. "Admiral Yvonne Carter, Trivalvian armed forces. Thank you for the rescue.

"However, I would appreciate some explanations - I've been in something of an information vacuum since my imprisonment. What is happening out there?"

[OOC: welcome back, TWSP!]

Major Frenc shook his head "I'm afraid we have also been out of contact as our radio sets were damaged in the jump and so we are picking up information from the local populace. Let's see" he went over to a sheet of paper and picked it up "This is all we have about the currant situation. There appears to be heavy fighting around Mollusc City and Naashans are active against Nationalist forces behind the lines. Our reinforcements have been diverted to Saxon Bay City to restore power for some reason" there was scorn in his voice at this last statement. "Therefore, we are cut off and awaiting evacuation from our own forces. They should be here tomorrow evening. Until, then, make yourself as comfortable as possible"

"Go! Go! Go!" Franklin boomed at the top of his lungs.

A couple of tanks and supporting infantry began to move forward, invariably unaware of the things the nationalists had set out for them.
A few minutes later, and they had gone only one hundred and fifty yards.
However, one of the men saw something.

"Sarge, abandoned APC, nationalist!"

"Check it out"

The man who spotted the vehicle, Carson, took no chances.
He cocked his MP-90 and riddled the vehicle's interior with 9x23mmAS before cautiously entering the vehicle.
It exploded.

"Holy fucking crap!"

Gunfire rattled out, and, as a nearby Marauder MBT sent 120mm DU shells towards the source of the gunfire and the soldiers ran for cover firing their weapons on full auto, the sarge went for it.
He sprinted towards the flaming vehicle and dived inside, grabbed Private Carson's limp and seriously wounded body and carried him behind the cover of a concrete wall.
He ripped open the soldier's shirt and jacket with a knife and fished out his trauma pack. He pulled a swab, some drugs, and a srynge from the kit and administered them as carefully as he could. Come on, come on. God is love, God is love... A medic ran over as another two platoons came in with five jeeps, two MICVs and some light AT rockets.

"What happened?" asked the medic.

"Booby-traps. Now help me get him onto that Jeep!"

The sargeant lifted him onto the back of the Jeep and ran back towards the carnage, firing a 40mm grenade from his Sabre II Assault Rifle's underbarrel launcher.
He told a radioman to get onto FHQ and tell them to tell the other troops to watch out for traps, and joined a Second Lieutenant trying to get things into order.

"Get the fighting vehicles to the enemy positions! Come on! Cover fire!"

Mollusc City - Nationalist/Antigran battle

As the APC exploded, soldiers in three buildings opened fire, picking their targets. The enemy tank sent shells at one building, the shells killing the trooper there before she could react.

The section sergeant gave a hand-signal: change positions! He then let out another burst of automatic fire before abandoning his position - he planned to reach another room down a floor.

Outside more tank shells found and killed two more soldiers: one who had stubbornly kept firing from his position without moving, practically making himself a target, the other having abandoned his position as ordered and was trying to cross an alley.

The section sergeant took a new position, and spotted one of his soldiers - with the only AT launcher in the group. He motioned to the soldier: take out the tank. The soldier gave an acknowledging motion and rose his launcher to aim at the Maurauder.

While this was happening, the sergeant broke radio silence, relaying enemy numbers and positions to the nearest sections.

OOC: So, should I be doing something?

If so, what?

Naasha:

Remember you have Soviet Air Support if requested ;p

[OOC: TWSP, if I remember correctly, some of your forces are with a group of my forces moving towards that northern city (see the OOC thread for the map). The initiation of Dark Trivalvia has changed things somewhat - there is now a concerted effort to retake power stations in South Trivalve (capital New Moncton) and Central Trivalve (capital Trivalviapolis).

Between real life issues, I've been handling the Nationalist end on the counterattack on Sussex AFB and the Nationalist/Antigran battle in Mollusc City, and the Free Trivalvian side in the effort to secure New Moncton and surrounding bases. If you wanted to take the lead on forces crossing into Central Trivalve, go right ahead.]

IC:

New Moncton and vicinity:
12:00 PM, local time

With the last of the resistance cleared out of New Moncton AFB, Colonel Flynn left a company behind to hold the base and guard those prisoners captured. The base had power courtesy of its on-site generators, and the Colonel decided to take advantage of the base's communication facilities.

First reports were promising. The 33rd had secured the nuclear plant as ordered and their engineers were working with freed civilian technicians to get the plant operational once more. Full power output in a few hours. Flynn ordered the 33rd to leave a platoon behind as a guard and to advance on the city's western entrances.

The two companies of the 41st were the next to report in - they had not yet reached the wind farm but reported no resistance so far. Flynn nodded - as he had hoped the enemy was keeping the bulk of their forces in the city. He should be able to secure all outlying areas and force a surrender.

Finally, the company he'd sent to New Moncton GFB sent it's report. They were working to secure the rest of the base - some machine gun emplacements were giving them trouble - but they'd moved in and secured prison.

"The Alversians really did a number on the place; not much left of the defenses when we got there," radioed the lieutenant on the ground. "We've found a wing of prisoners so far."

"Any sign of Admiral Carter? Or of the Naashan prisoners?"

"Nothing so far. We are finding bodies in a number of cells, however."

Flynn frowned at the news. So far he had heard no report from the Alversians themselves, so he had no knowledge on how successful they were.

However, he did have rough information on their landing zone.

"I'm sending Company 'B' from the 32nd to reinforce your position," he radioed back. "They should arrive in an hour's time. Once they get there, get an APC sent to the coordinates I'm sending you - we need to know if the Alversians successfully extracted the Admiral and the Naashans as soon as possible..."

Bivalviaton

"...We're getting sporadic reports from forces in the field," Wellington told MacKenzie. "So far, some plants have been secured and we're bringing them back online as fast as we can."

"It's not just power plants," MacKenzie said, pointing to the laptop he was working at. "Some of the pro-democracy groups have put together makeshift servers and transmitters - it appears that Harrington has ordered several key nodes to be destroyed."

"So he's trying to bring down the minder network."

"Police are having their hands full - riots are already starting to break out in some cities." MacKenzie sighed. "I've asked those groups I've been able to contact to do their best to maintain order; once the power goes back up, we can expect Harrington to blame the riots on us. We have to take that propoganda tool from him if we can."

"What could they do?"

"Reassure neighbors, work with police groups to quell riots. Remember that the police are not so much willing participants in the martial law; they are duty bound to maintain law and order, not fight wars."

Alversian LEZ

The explosion carried the Paratroop into the nearest tree, which he hit with a sickening thud. The bullets kicked up little specks of dirt as the machine gun continued to fire into the bush. The Alversian .50inch HMG's returned fire although neither could see each other. It seemed a few rogue Nationalists had abandoned the prison and pursued them after all. Pick-Up was in less than an hour but if the Trivalvians had a SAM, then the choppers wouldn't be able to get close to the troops to evacuate them. A Paratroop whipped a grenade into the bush and, once it had exploded, continued to fire on full automatic into the bush. The night was only lit up by the tracer as Machine Guns traded fire. Major Frenc ran between positions to offer encouragement and information to his troops. He hoped the Free Forces could hear the fight and get something to reinforce him now. They really needed it!

Mollusc City

The rocket struck the Marauder tank with amazing force, sending the driver and commander flying into the solid steel spall liner on the side.
The tank was not badly damaged however, thanks to the fact that it was a third-batch model, the improvements of the model including DU and explosive reactive armour.
The commander was slightly injured and in somewhat of a daze, so the gunner took over and yelled to the driver.

"Desley, get us the fuck outta here! Find Cover!"

Then they heard a grinding noise. The left track was in peices.

"Shit" mumbled the gunner, Richie.

"Whadda we do?!"

"We fire, that's what"

Richie pressed a button and the autoloader whined and slammed an incendiary round into the breach, as Desley sent smoke into the buildings, and then a red rocket into the air - a distress signal so C company could come running.

Meanwhile, most of the soldiers had got into cover and taken aim at the base of the AT rocket's smoke trail, and the MICV and Jeep mounted weapon gunners were firing at all muzzle flash they could see.
The Antigran weapons would not be such a target, as all but the pistols and SMGs had flash surpressors.
Then another sound was added to the battle-the whine of another tank.
And not just an ordinary tank.
It was the whine of a Marauder Lion - a tank first introduced in 2007 and still in first production batch stage.
It had a 140mm Dual-Purpose Gun-Howitzer, depleted uranium armour, a coaxial 30mm cannon, and a close range red-dot laser sight serving the main gun for intimidation purposes.
A Major, Hendley, had arrived and was coordinating the efforts, bringing with him some heavy artillery and an attack helicopter.

Not only that, but troops across the whole area were now aware of the dangers and all had armour support and were instructed to destroy any suspicious obstacles.
Hendley cocked his pistol and fired off a salvo. Now, let's see what they'll do next.

Mollusc City

The sergeant grinned as he saw the rocket hit the side of the tank. The grin vanished, however, when he saw the tank still operational, even if immobilized.

The soldier holding the AT launcher ducked down to reload, when the smoke round penetrated the room he was in. Coughing, he hauled the launcher into the hallway, and made for the roof - he'd be exposed to enemy fire there but he didn't see any better options right now.

Throughout the city other soldiers were forced to abandon positions as enemy fire began to slice through them. Several died from the barrage. Those that survived fell back to the Harriet Jones Memorial College, and began to barricade doors and windows. They would make their last stand here.

Nationalist Losses: 41 soldiers out of a total of 96.

[OOC: TWSP, if I remember correctly, some of your forces are with a group of my forces moving towards that northern city (see the OOC thread for the map). The initiation of Dark Trivalvia has changed things somewhat - there is now a concerted effort to retake power stations in South Trivalve (capital New Moncton) and Central Trivalve (capital Trivalviapolis).

Between real life issues, I've been handling the Nationalist end on the counterattack on Sussex AFB and the Nationalist/Antigran battle in Mollusc City, and the Free Trivalvian side in the effort to secure New Moncton and surrounding bases. If you wanted to take the lead on forces crossing into Central Trivalve, go right ahead.]


OOC: Gotcha.

IC:

General Andrets had been busy overseeing the placing of generators, hospitals and housing in the freed zone, but truth is he was bored, the military had been sent there to help, yes, bu fighting, not tending to the masses, at least not for the moment.

Standing up from his chair, he picked his phone, dialled the nearest Trivalvian HQ and waited for the tone.

Soon enough, someone picked his call, and asked what did the general need. Thus, with a firm and stern voice, Andrets asked to talk to Wellington, McKenzie or whoever was in charge of this area.

The Soviets, it seemed, would lead the way into Trivalviapolis with foreign assistance or without it, that did not matter.

Bivalviaton - the "War Room",
1:35 PM local time, May 21, 2009

The central screen had a map of Trivalvia, and now - in addition to positions of friendly and enemy forces - several red dots indicating power stations still offline.

"The plants and wind farms near New Moncton seem to be helping - Sussex reports that East Trivalve has essential functions restored including basic communications," said an aide to MacKenzie. He gulped, then added, "We're still working on a casualty list, but current estimates suggest a death toll over thirty thousand, nationwide."

MacKenzie grimaced. "What's the story in Mollusc City?"

Wellington said, "The Antigrans are still clearing out some Nationalist holdouts. It looks like most of the occupying battalion has fled, leaving booby traps and suicide squads behind. It's slow going.

"Elsewhere, we're facing a counterattack at Sussex AFB - those two armoured regiments we lost track of have come back to bite us. Naashan forces seem to be keeping them at bay.

"We've still no word from the Alversian force we sent in. Colonel Flynn has dispatched troops to connect with them --"

"Sir. The map..."

Wellington and MacKenzie looked up at the screen as the aide pointed.

Throughout the mainland, red dots turned to green in a wave.

"The plants are all coming back on?" Wellington asked. "But we don't have any forces near half of those stations..."

"No military forces, General," said a voice behind them. MacKenzie and Wellington turned to see Samantha enter the room. "But market forces are another story..."

Trivalviapolis

The aide stood by, silent, as Harrington ordered power to be restored, ending the Dark Trivalvia plan. As Harrington sat back in his chair and brooded, the aide finally spoke.

"Well, congratulations, sir. Not only did your plan fail to silence the pro-democracy movement, and kill off thousands of children and elderly, you've wounded the country's economy."

"It was a calculated gamble," Harrington replied. "Besides we've had some success disabling their networks--"

The aide interrupted him. "NASDAQ closed an hour ago, with the tridollar falling several cents every hour against the USD. Almost all Trivalvian stocks suffered price crashes. The New York and Toronto stock exchanges are still open, but we're seeing similar trends there. Same in stock exchanges in Shazbotdom, the Blackhelm Confederacy, Cravan... We'll be lucky if the tridollar is worth the paper it's printed on by the end of the day."

"When the crisis is over, we can recover..."

"No sir, we won't." The aide's voice held a hint of rage. "One of the big things businesses tend to hate are unpredictable politics and you just pulled the mother of all wild moves, all to gain some temporary advantage over some dissidents. Frankly, sir, I can't see international trade ever coming back to this country while you're still in office."

"Now that is ENOUGH!" Harrington stood, glaring at the aide. "You are out of line, mister, and you'd better back down or it's your job!"

The aide sighed, and dropped an envelope on Harrington's desk. "My resignation, sir. I'd shoot you, but luckily for you I'm a pacifist. I'll see myself out." The ex-aide turned and left the office.

Harrington stared at the envelope, his vision blurring, the throb of a blood vessel pulsing near his temple. He steadied himself, breathing slowly until the blurring and throbbing subsided.

Only later did he think to order the ex-aide arrested, but by then the man had vanished...

[OOC: I'll get a response to you, TWSP, but I need to check a few references...]

Bivalviaton

Wellington nodded as he read the latest report from Colonel Zala. "It looks like the last resistance in East Trivalve is over. Once the Antigrans clean out Mollusc City, we'll be free to move on to the capital. What's that?" he asked as a lieutenant hurried over and whispered something to him. "Okay, put him on speaker... General Andrets, glad to hear from you. You'll be happy to hear that the immediate crisis is over - we should be able to regroup for a push on Trivalviapolis shortly..."

South Trivalve - near the Alversian encampment.

Two MT-LB APCs were almost at the camp when the sound of gunfire and explosions reached them. The lieutenant in charge ordered the vehicles the halt. "Colonel Flynn, this is Relief One," he spoke into his headset. "We've just witnessed weapons fire near the last known position of the Alversians. Over."

"Relief One, Colonel Flynn. I read you on the weapons fire... Bivalviaton AFB reports one of our spysats are over the area, stand by."

The lieutenant decided it might be a good idea for some ground info. "Sergeant, I need a two-man recon team to check out those explosions."

"Sir! Harkness, Tyler! Get to it!"

"Relief One, Colonel Flynn. We're confirming a firefight near an encampment. High probability it's a nationalist pursuit force. Tree cover does not allow for an accurate head count but Bivalviaton estimates perhaps a platoon-strength force. Over."

Platoon strength - roughly 4 sections or 32 men. "Understood, Colonel. Be aware I have dispatched a recon team to gather intelligence. Over."

"Understood, Relief One. Render assistance to the Alversians. Once the Nationalist force is dealt with, connect up with the Alversians and see if they have the Admiral - HQ wants to speak with her ASAP. I'm sending updated maps to your vehicle. Over."

"Copy, Colonel. Relief One is preparing to engage the enemy. Over and out."

Bivalviaton

Wellington nodded as he read the latest report from Colonel Zala. "It looks like the last resistance in East Trivalve is over. Once the Antigrans clean out Mollusc City, we'll be free to move on to the capital. What's that?" he asked as a lieutenant hurried over and whispered something to him. "Okay, put him on speaker... General Andrets, glad to hear from you. You'll be happy to hear that the immediate crisis is over - we should be able to regroup for a push on Trivalviapolis shortly..."


"Greetings General Wellington, it's good to finally be able to speak to you again.

Now, that the formalities have been completed, let's cut to the chase, shall we?

Good, now, I have most of the 1st Division behind me, as well as the 2nd which will be arriving shortly. As a matter of fact, in only twenty four hours, I can have both divisions moving at Trivalviapolis non-stop, all I require is your permission, as well as any intel you can give me on the defences of the country-side, I feel that a bombing-campaign is in order to clear the way for us. You know, a few surgical strikes here and there, nothing big.

Now, I understand your forces need regrouping, and that most of our other allies are all ready compromised in actions against the OPFOR, but my boys have been sitting here doing nothing, and they crave for a little action, so I formally request you allow us to move freely towards Trivalviapolis, maybe send in a few of your men to oversee the operation, because, frankly, every minute we spend here is another minute Harrington can use to toughen his defences and remain as a tyrant.

What do you think?"

Wellington considered the General's statement. It certainly made sense to get their forward momentum back. However...

"Get Colonel Gillis on the line, patch him in with me and Andrets," he told a lieutenant. So far, Gillis and the forces under his command had been camping south of the capital, but had been unable to do more than hold the area for the past few days.

MacKenzie and Samantha had been discussing something at low volume while Andrets had been speaking. MacKenzie stepped towards Wellington. "Just a moment, Mark... General Andrets? This is William MacKenzie. Before you get underway I have a favour to ask.

"I've just been informed that Harrington is addressing the country again. No big suprise, but he's blaming the blackout on us - and the urban fighting in Mollusc City has provided him with a little more propoganda on the local front.

"Now I'll be sending messages to the mayors and community officials your forces have helped - I'm sure some of them have delivered thanks for your assistance, but we could use some voluntary testimonials from people on the ground. I think that Colonel Zala should also send a few of what forces he has to relieve you - catching the handover from Soviet to Free Trivalvian forces on camera ought to weaken Harrington's public image further."

A new voice came over the speaker. "General Wellington, sir?"

Wellington spoke up. "I'm here. Glad to hear your voice Colonel Gillis. We should be able to have some forces from the World Soviet Party joining you in the next few hours."

"The sooner the better, sir. We've had to abandon our previous camp and move a hundred kilometers further away from the capital. Pelletier's been ordering fighter flyovers of the region, and we've had to dodge some bombs."

That didn't sound good. "Casualties?"

"We've lost a troop of tanks from the 3rd Armoured, and we've had to abandon half of our APCs for lack of fuel. Worse, our local supply lines are drying up. Either the Nationalists are cracking down on civilian resistance networks or Harrington's propoganda is having an effect.

"Worse, we've been catching intermittent dispatches. It's hard to say, but we're expecting almost all Nationalist forces elsewhere in the province to be converging on Trivalviapolis. If we don't get support soon, we'll be wiped out by the first battalion that finds us."

"Understood, Colonel. Hang tight - help is on the way. General Andrets, I trust you caught all that? The sooner you can get some forces over to Gillis' position the better - you might be able to disable some of the Nationalist forces as they are on the move as well. We'll provide constant satellite intel to back up your own intel efforts."

[OOC: just a reminder that each city outside of the provincial and national capitals has one battalion or tank regiment. Now that the Nationalists are pulling back, those forces will be on roads and "in the open". TWSP, your air units should still be able to use Sussex AFB as a refuelling stop. There are also two ground forces bases in Central Trivalve falling almost directly between your rough position and Trivalviapolis - feel free to RP taking those bases with minimal losses.

The movement of enemy troops to the capital should mean that you won't have to worry about fighting in built-up areas for the next two IC days. I'll provide one last national-theatre map by tomorrow afternoon/evening to bring things up to date.

Naasha, I forgot we need to wrap up the "second battle of Sussex" your troops are in - perhaps one more post from your end to bring that battle to a close? We're almost on the home stretch here, guys!]

Wellington considered the General's statement. It certainly made sense to get their forward momentum back. However...

"Get Colonel Gillis on the line, patch him in with me and Andrets," he told a lieutenant. So far, Gillis and the forces under his command had been camping south of the capital, but had been unable to do more than hold the area for the past few days.

MacKenzie and Samantha had been discussing something at low volume while Andrets had been speaking. MacKenzie stepped towards Wellington. "Just a moment, Mark... General Andrets? This is William MacKenzie. Before you get underway I have a favour to ask.

"I've just been informed that Harrington is addressing the country again. No big suprise, but he's blaming the blackout on us - and the urban fighting in Mollusc City has provided him with a little more propoganda on the local front.

"Now I'll be sending messages to the mayors and community officials your forces have helped - I'm sure some of them have delivered thanks for your assistance, but we could use some voluntary testimonials from people on the ground. I think that Colonel Zala should also send a few of what forces he has to relieve you - catching the handover from Soviet to Free Trivalvian forces on camera ought to weaken Harrington's public image further."

A new voice came over the speaker. "General Wellington, sir?"

Wellington spoke up. "I'm here. Glad to hear your voice Colonel Gillis. We should be able to have some forces from the World Soviet Party joining you in the next few hours."

"The sooner the better, sir. We've had to abandon our previous camp and move a hundred kilometers further away from the capital. Pelletier's been ordering fighter flyovers of the region, and we've had to dodge some bombs."

That didn't sound good. "Casualties?"

"We've lost a troop of tanks from the 3rd Armoured, and we've had to abandon half of our APCs for lack of fuel. Worse, our local supply lines are drying up. Either the Nationalists are cracking down on civilian resistance networks or Harrington's propoganda is having an effect.

"Worse, we've been catching intermittent dispatches. It's hard to say, but we're expecting almost all Nationalist forces elsewhere in the province to be converging on Trivalviapolis. If we don't get support soon, we'll be wiped out by the first battalion that finds us."

"Understood, Colonel. Hang tight - help is on the way. General Andrets, I trust you caught all that? The sooner you can get some forces over to Gillis' position the better - you might be able to disable some of the Nationalist forces as they are on the move as well. We'll provide constant satellite intel to back up your own intel efforts."


"Thanks, General Wellington, President MacKenzie, I shall leave now, to order the Air Force to do some recon work, as well as taking out those tank regiments you mentioned earlier.

Oh, one last thing, as we now possess total air superiority, we would be able to para-drop supplies on Colonel Gillis position, as well as reinforcements.

Now if you excuse me, I must leave"

And with that, he cut the communication.

Standing next to the phone, he scratched his head, thought for a minute, and finally called his aide.

"Tell the 1st Division to gear up and get moving, leave some troopers behind for propaganda purposes, use non-combat personnel though."

"Understood sir, anything else?"

"Patch me up to Air Force Command"

"Yes Sir"

Soon enough, he had a direct line set-up to his friend and colleague, Brigadier General Drew Leibowitz.

OOC: Actual conversation in next post coz' I'm lazy and it's late.

Mollusc City

While all the resistance was being cleared out, and the nationalists trying to escape from the roof fired at, Hendley got on the radio to FHQ.

"What's going on, General? How are we doing?"

"Badly, we're running into resistance everywhere and we can only advance so fast in these conditions. We've managed to get a clear breakthrough in one area though, and the scouts going ahead are reporting a gathering near a certain Harriet Jones Memorial College"

"What are my orders?"

"You're the nearest, Major, you'll have to go clear the place out. We'll try and get reinforcements to you but it'll be hard going. You've got the full support of eight 155mm self-propelled guns firing from one and a half miles away. Good luck"

He put down the mouthpeice and thought in silence. Well, I can get to the college, but i'll encounter heavy resistance for sure. Or I could stay here and get court-marshalled later. He decided to take the first choice.

"Move out! Go west from our position!" he yelled.

The Marauder Lion lurched and accelerated, followed by the MICVs and the Jeeps.
As they neared the college, resistance increased dramatically.
It took them twenty minutes to get through. Finally, however, they were onto the campus - only to bear witness as shells came from the building, only 300 meters away.
As one shell struck the glacis plate of the Marauder Lion and it returned fire, The Major began to give out urgent orders as bullets whizzed around him.

"Return fire, put every weapon to use! Get into cover!"

He got his radio again and connected straight onto FHQ.

"Urgent! Urgent! This is an emergency! We're near the college and we need reinforcements!"

What the general said next dampened his spirits to an all-time low.

"Sorry, Hendley. They're still ten minutes away"

"And the artillery?"

"Three peices directed to other areas, remainder firing now"

Even as shells began to fall, the fire continued.
A loud explosion boomed out next to him as an MICV took a direct hit and the crew bailed out.
We are going to die.
Only the tank and the remaining MICV and light vehicles were firing still.
Then an AT rocket blew up a Jeep.
Hendley had got his fill of this.

"RETREAT AND REGROUP!"

The remaining vehicles drove away to a safe position a hundred metres away and medics ran about attending to the wounded. The Major was beginning to get stressed. Fucking nationalist bastards. Fuck 'em. I swear I'll get 'em for it, reinforcements or not, an--
The whine of a tank filled the air and everyone went silent.
Then another tank, and another, until they had ammased to make a total of nine tanks and fourteen MICVs.
Then two attack helicopters.
And then some troops. Two hundred and fifty of them.
First Battalion had come into the city at last, and General Franklin was with them.
Time for the second push.

[OOC: Trivalvia, this'll be an interesting reply, won't it?]

Mollusc City; HJ Memorial College

The sight of the tanks crashing through the central gate and onto the campus courtyard unnerved the nationalists. However, escape would not be possible - a stone wall surrounded the small campus; any attempt to scale or blow a hole in it would take time and be easily noticed... and the Antigrans blocked the only opening.

The lieutenant that had wound up being the ranking officer of the last Nationalist remnants in the city looked at the men and women gathered with him. The firefight had claimed another dozen men; from three platoons at the start of the running battle down to little over one platoon left.

Against hundreds of enemy troops.

"So, this is to be our 'Alamo'," the lieutenant muttered. So be it.

"We fight to the last man," he declared. "Last man, last bullet. We'll make sure that history remembers B Company of the 47th Battalion."

They readied themselves. The last AT launchers were brought up to the third floor. Soldiers carrying XM25 grenade launchers perched at windows on the second floor, ready to fire into the approaching troops. Everyone else loaded their assault rifles with the last of their ammunition.

The lieutenant took a second to study the enemy troops with his binoculars. He saw one man among them; the insignia on his uniform suggested he was a general. Perfect. He's mine.

The lieutenant aimed his assault rifle carefully - he was a skilled marksman, but his target was at a greater range than he preferred to operate at with this weapon.

What I wouldn't give for a sniper rifle right now. And while I'm wishing, how about a squadron of bombers to back us up?

No more delays. The lieutenant yelled "Open Fire!" and squeezed the trigger on his rifle.

[OOC: Trivalvia, the General was actually in a command truck, but, for the sake of the RP, we can say otherwise. This time.]

"AAAGH!"

The General yelled and clutched his shoulder. He staggered back and collapsed on the concrete. A medic ran over to him immediately.

"Sir? Are you alright? No, that's a dumb question. Can you stand okay?"

"I'm....f-fine....I...can stand..."

With that, he stood up shakily. He was hit deep in the shoulder and loosing blood. Luckily, the bullet was small-calibre, otherwise Franklin would be unconcious by now.
Another soldier ran over, and together, the two troops carried the General over to a Jeep.

"Get him to the 3560th MASH*! Step on it!"

The driver looked kind of stunned for a few seconds. Then he looked forward again while the medic got on the Jeep and sped off to the MASH.

[*Mobile Army Surgical Hospital]

[OOC: My bad. Sorry.]

'Cos I haven't enough time for another IC post, our troops have advanced suffering mild causualties and about two platoons have reached the walls, and are preparing to blow down a wall.

The last Chinook helicopter touched down on Bivalve Island, carrying the exhausted and shocked troops of the Alversian Parachute Regiment. They had escaped under heavy fire losing quite a few men in the attempt. Still, mission accomplished, Yvonne and her collegues were no longer under enemy control. The losses were worth it.

60 Alversian KIA
80 Alversian WIA
10 Alversian MIA

New Moncton

The restoration of power allowed for Flynn to change his battle-plan one more time, this time to his advantage, he hoped. The 41st Battalion - less a company - was now doubling back from Saxon Bay City, and would hit enemy entrenchments on the northeast side of New Moncton. Meantime, the 32nd Battalion and 11th Armoured were advancing on the city from the south, while the 33rd moved on to secure New Moncton NFB.

So far the biggest losses were the two APCs and the infantry assigned to them he'd sent down to connect with the Alversians after their operation. What was supposed to be a basic contact mission had turned into a three-way firefight between the relief group, the Alversians, and a Nationalist platoon that had escaped the earlier fighting. The Nationalist platoon had been eliminated... but so had both sections of infantry Flynn had sent down. The crossfire had, at least, taken some of the pressure off of the Alversians, and allowed them to win the day. When this was over, Flynn hoped to meet with the Alversian commander and toast their fallen comrades.

But, back to the task at hand. The first tanks of the 11th Armoured were in range of the first enemy checkpoint. He gave the order to fire, and the battle was joined.

Bivalviaton AFB

Yvonne Carter emerged a little unsteadily from the Chinook helicopter onto the tarmac. All around, medical APCs and civilian ambulances converged on the copters.

One APC pulled up in front of her. A major got out and saluted both Yvonne and Major Frenc. "Sir, Ma'am, welcome to Bivalviaton Air Force Base. Major Frenc, the General asked me to pass on his thanks and congratulations on a job well done. Our medical teams will assist your people any way they can; anything else you need, just ask and we'll do our best for you."

OOC: I'm back, post coming soon

Nationalist-Held Trivalvia

As the Nationalist forces in New Moncton and Mollusc City were gradually worn down, General Pelletier decided the time had come for the forces to cut their losses. Orders were sent for all forces not currently engaging the enemy to fall back to the capital. As the battle at Central Trivalve AFB had demonstrated, what planes remained to the Nationalists would not be enough to protect any forces being airlifted, so troops had to move on the ground.

Esther Island saw all of its military removed and pulled back to the mainland. But the Clandonian forces Harrington had expected did not arrive. Siezing the opportunity, a mob stormed the Provincial Legislature in Esther City, and the Premier was "arrested". The police were not enough to stop the revolt, and by the end of the day, Esther Island had declared itself "free" of Harrington's rule.

The Quadrivalve Archipelago, essentially cut off from the rest of Nationalist Trivalvia by Naashan ships, was the second province to cast off Harrington's Yoke. The revolt in Vale was bloodier, as there were still Marines present to hold the city, but this time the troops show of force was not enough to stay the people - 500 people even with automatic weapons could not stop a hundred thousand people with varying arms attacking in a built up area. The marine battalion was wiped out to the last man. With the only remaining military forces being the ships that were essentially imprisoned in their own harbour, the provincial government in Vale declared the state of martial law over.

The two regiments of Nationalist tanks that had launched the counterattack on Sussex AFB made for a modern re-enactment of the Charge of the Light Brigade. Shortage of fuel claimed some tanks, which were left abandoned at roadsides, mines claimed more. The rest threw themselves against the combined Trivalvian/Naashan/Soviet forces that remained on the base. Although the defenders had not yet tallied up their own casualties, the Nationalist casualties were undeniable - there were no survivors.

Elsewhere, tanks, trucks, and APCs full of tired and demoralized troops travelled down highways towards Trivalviapolis.

[OOC: just trying to tie up a number of loose ends before the final battle.]

The battle for Sussex AFB had been hard and long, however, casualties were low on the Soviet side, as their doctrine indicated that strongholds were to be as secure as possible, and honoring that, a number of fortifications, as well as anti-tank weapons ranging from Javelins to M06 Tank Buster 203mm guns had been left for the defenders to use.

Soviet KIA: 3 (Their gun took a direct hit)
Soviet WIA: 9 (Rest of the crew of said gun)

Meanwhile, General Andrets had already prepped up the Air Force, well over a hundred light bombers and attack craft, escorted by an equally big number of fighters and interceptors, made their way into occupied Trivalvia, their pre-set targets ranged from bases to tank columns trying to make their way to Trivalviapolis.

The orders were clear, there was to be no resistance left for the advancing divisions.

Bivalviaton; 7:00 PM Local Time,
May 21, 2009

"I hate to impose on you, Yvonne; I know that you've been through a lot these past few months. But if you could stand being in front of the cameras for a while..."

"I would prefer to get to work reasserting command of the fleet."

"I know, but perhaps this might help you get your fleet back. Here is what I have in mind..."

As he walked up to the podium, MacKenzie felt as if things were normal for the first time since this mess began. Behind him were the people that had stood by him in his presidency. Samantha, his long-time aide, General Wellington, resplendent in his colbalt dress uniform, and now Yvonne Carter, wearing her Admiral's uniform for the first time in months. There was no disguising the tired looks on all their faces - he expected he looked a little like death warmed over himself.

Yet, all three of them radiated a fortitude that MacKenzie hoped would carry through to the press and the audience.

He placed both hands on the podium and began to speak into the cameras and microphones before him.

"Fellow citizens of Trivalvia, peoples of the world, friends.

"Today has been a most harrowing day for us. As has been reported earlier, most of Mainland Trivalvia suffered a massive blackout. Tony Harrington has already blamed the coordinated loss of power and the subsequent suffering our people endured on those who seek to unseat his illegal rule and restore democratic government. However, the facts are against him.

"We have recieved reports from people in the mainland who have witnessed military forces dismantling wireless internet transmitters, the primary means of communication for the pro-democracy groups that have chosen to oppose Harrington. This was an operation that could only succeed if the network was disabled totally, to prevent warnings from being sent. Only Harrington would have the motive needed to attempt this.

"The blackout was coordinated; hundreds of power plants of varying kinds were deactivated simultaneously, and only in the provinces under Harrington's control. Only the military forces currently attached to Harrington's Nationalist banner would have the resources to coordinate such a widespread strike against a critical component of our infrastructure.

"The effort not only failed, but backfired. Pro-democracy movements not only were able to maintain or repair the links Harrington tried to sever, but also acted to maintain order in the cities affected. They calmed citizens, provided aid to police and fire officials. Sadly, their efforts were not enough to stem the death toll.

"We are still accumulating the figures, but our early tally has a confirmed death toll at twenty-five thousand. The estimated toll is believed to be over one hundred thousand. Much of these deaths come from hospitals and planes in flight, which crashed for lack of fuel and a functioning ground link with which they needed to land safely. I can only express my sympathy and sorrow to the families of those who died.

"In a single day, Tony Harrington has caused more deaths than in all of Trivalvia's military actions for the past twenty years. He has damaged our economy. He has stained our country's honour. And he will face justice.

"I thank the nations who have contributed forces to help end this crisis. Soviet and Antigran forces provided essential emergency aid in regions affected by the blackout where they could. Alversian forces, at great personal risk, were able to rescue the three Naashan journalists who were captured on the first day of this crisis, and returned alive and unharmed our Admiral of the Fleet, Yvonne Carter, herself imprisoned illegally months before. And Naashan ground and naval forces have aided us both in preventing a disastrous invasion of Isle d'Monovalve, which has maintained neutrality during this crisis, and in protecting our bases in East Trivalve when a Nationalist counterattack was staged.

"Harrington has called these forces as invaders and aggressors. We refute this accusation. The forces are here at my invitation, and will leave the minute this crisis is over.

"As for issues of legitimacy; I now must address Tony Harrington directly. You have sought to paint me and those who have aided me as someone who seeks power. I have never, at any time in this crisis, stated intentions to sieze power or to assume leadership. My simple request is that the people of this nation be allowed to choose their leader, as is their constitutional right.

"Moreover, where is your legitmacy? Where in the constitution is the authority for you to deny the vote of no confidence you lost? By what authority did you order troops into our cities? With what justification did you order the blackout and the murder of hundreds of prisoners at Military Prison Seven?

"If you can name this authority, and be prepared to defend yourself in a court of law, I will gladly call an end to the fighting. Until then, know that we are coming for you, and that you will be brought to account for your actions.

"I call once again on the forces who are fighting under Harrington - resist. Join with us, and restore honour to the Trivalvian military and nation once more. Your proper leaders stand here by my side, the people who built up our forces and maintained the standards of duty and honour that have been our military's long tradition. You are not simply soldiers, but citizens and you have the right to stand up to oppression! Do not let Harrington and Pelletier cow you into committing atrocities.

"By the grace of God, we will see an end to this fighting in the coming days. Thank you."

Official Diplomatic Communique

http://i181.photobucket.com/albums/x204/Sgt-Alex/OfficialSealTWSP.gif
To: Mr. Tony Harrington; Former President of Trivalvia
From: President Aszenmil, President of the World Soviet Party

Greetings Mr. Harrington, this will a short and to the point message, so we'll have to miss the introductions.

A few weeks ago, we sent you a message, asking you to surrender yourself to the Soviet Forces, we even went as far as to offering to hold your trial in TWSP, where, as you might know, there's no death penalty.

Stupidly, or rushingly, you declined our offer, and our subsequent one of holding talks with you to arrange said surrender.

Now we give you the opportunity to correct your mistake, so please, help us avoid further bloodshed and surrender, you'll be treated fairly and escorted to The World Soviet Party for trial.

I urge you to accept this kind and once-in-a-life-time offer, else you shall face annihilation.

Signed,
Alejandro Aszenmil, President of The World Soviet Party.

[OOC: Remember, my 4th and 5th battalions fought at sussex AFB too!]

BOOM
BOOM
BOOM
BOOM
BOOM
BOOM
BOOM
BOOM
BOOM
BOOM
The ten charges went one after the other in quick succesion, virtually destroying the wall.
At first, it only blew a hole.
And then the wall came down on itself.
The combat engineers ran for cover as the rubble came tumbling about their ears.
They made it by the skin of their teeth.
The explosion still ringing in their ears, soldiers began to clamber through the hole on the main floor.
A sergeant leading, the two platoons stormed the building, throwing grenades and firing their weapons on burst and full auto.
At the same time, tanks had gradually picked off the soldiers with AT and grenade launchers.
This allowed the MICVs to bring infantry forward, about 70 of them.
Snipers fired bullets into the building as more and more infantry fought their way in.
At about this point, a sergeant and fifteen men had reached a hall overlooking the area of the campus on which the Antigrans were advancing.
Shotguns were brought forward and the doors kicked in.
And two dozen men were there to meet them.
The Antigrans quickly took refuge behind the wall but two went down almost instantly.
They had no option but to back off, as resistance increased and Nationalists began to get the situation under control.
The Major observed what was happening, dismayed. The only option was to bring down the building, and there wasn't enough explosive or rockets for that. Even with the support of the attack helicopter.
Then he had a bright idea, and picked up his radio.

"All units, all units, clear the building, immediately! Armoured units..."

"...Fire incendiary into the building!

Came the voice from the tank's radio.
The commander spoke out.

"You heard 'im! Load incediary!"

The Major watched as the shells were fired. The Trivalvians would have a large renovation job afterwards, but it would be worth it.

[OOC: Sorry, I forgot you still had forces at Sussex]

Mollusc City

The incendiary round smashed through a window on the second floor, impacting a concrete support and blasting the nearby soldiers with a wave of fire. One fell out of the window, screaming on the way down.

Secondary explosions from the soldiers' weapons sent bullets and shrapnel into the walls. One bullet penetrated a natural gas line feeding a heater on the room's far wall. The flames in the room connected with the gas, and then...

Explosions ripped through every room, as the flames travelled down the gas lines, hitting pockets of air along the way. The last soldiers in the building died in this wave of destruction. A third round of explosions sounded from the third floor, as the last AT rocket rounds detonated from the flames.

After that, silence.

Sirens in the distance began to sound, as fire crews and ambulances responded to the fire alarms built into the building.

The battle was over. But peace and normalcy would be a long time in coming.

Antigran soldiers were sent flying several feet as explosions ripped apart the building.
Immediately, soldiers were sent in to the safe parts of the structure to find survivors and make them surrender. But there was opnly a few, including from one man who'd fallen from a window and miraculously survived hitting a rather jagged section of rubble.
No more than five minutes later, and fire and ambulance crews were on the scene, joined by the army's own ambulances.
A captain went to explain what had happened to the rescue workers, as the Major surveyed the scene.
He learned soon that three combat engineers had been badly wounded, and one killed. Well, nothing comes without price, he thought.
However, he knew there was still nationalist forces in large numbers in areas, and time was of the essence, so he went over to the general's command truck, strangely quiet without the big man himself, and picked up the radio.
This call, 3560th MASH.
After about ten minutes of conversation, he had learned to his relief that General Franklin was making a good recovery. He also learned that he would be able to co-ordinate efforts by radio where needed.
He decided to ask a favor, as a General would probably have a higher chance of getting things done than a Major.

"General, may I ask a favour?"

"Shoot."

"Now that you'll be able to do a lot of things over the radio because your strength is back, maybe you should contact Sussex and ask what we should go for next. It's their country, after all, and they're co-ordinating operations"

"Good thinking, Major. I'll contact them and ask for our orders."

He ended the call, and Major Hendley hoped he would be back in touch soon.

------

3560th MASH

The General put down the handset and asked the company clerk to get him Sussex AFB.
After about thirty seconds of fiddling and asking with decreasing patience, the soldier finally got what was asked of him and gave Franklin the handset again.

"Hello, is this Sussex? Antigran Operations Command here. This is General Franklin, I need to speak with the Trivalvian commanders right away, we need our orders"

[OOC: last battle! The following summary will have to serve as "orders". Feel free to request clarificatons. Let's end this with a bang!

Maps forthcoming.]

4. Endgame

Eight days had passed since Harrington had declared martial law. In those eight days the country had been divided - and reunited - under conditions no person had imagined or desired a month earlier.

MacKenzie's address on May 21st had served as a final spark, strengthening the resolve of those who had quailed earlier. The government of Isle d'Monovalve had departed its neutral status, throwing its weight behind the Free Trivalvians and their allies. And former Nationalist Vice-Admiral Everett pledged the support of the Atlantic Battlegroup under Admiral Carter's command. Those ships, along with half of the ships from Isle d'Monovalve now were moored in New Moncton Harbour. As an added surprise, the TNS Bivalviaton had switched sides even as its escort ships sped toward Trivalviapolis. Admiral Carter would be going into battle against the Nationalists on her old flagship.

With New Moncton liberated, the Free Trivalvian forces stationed on the islands began to flow uncontested to the mainland. By the end of May 22nd, 11 battalions and 10 tank regiments were arrayed against Nationalist forces, in addition to various forces from the allied countries. Wellington transferred his flag from Bivalviaton AFB to the forward base south of the city. MacKenzie would have joined him but Wellington insisted he remain behind - the fighting was expected to be fierce, and the Free forces could not afford to lose the man who had rallied the country.

Trivalviapolis itself was silent to the outside. Between desertions and attrition from allied airstrikes, the Nationalist forces were reduced to 16 battalions and 8 tank regiments. General Pelletier had ordered infantry forces to lay mines and set up machine-gun and AT emplacements around the city's outer perimeter. His forces were spread thin, however - and there were growing signs that the civilian population were preparing to stage an uprising much as they had in Sussex, Esther City, and Vale. Pelletier spared a couple of battalions to secure the Legislature and surrounding grounds.

The following morning opened to what might become the bloodiest day of the war...

Forward Base, 7:30 AM local time,
May 23, 2009

General Wellington grinned as he stepped out of the helicopter onto the ground. Might not be crossing the Rubicon, he thought, but being here on the front mattered to him.

Eight days ago he had been driven out of the mainland, forced to flee with his friend and leader on a tanker ship. He planned to be with the forces when they retook the city.

He walked toward the command tent, where Colonel Gillis and Colonel Flynn were waiting for him, along with generals and liasons from the various allied forces. He'd seen Antigran and Soviet armour on the way in, but had yet to get detailed numbers on how many allied units he had to deal with.

"I go away for a week and look what happens," he said with a smile as he entered the tent.

Colonel Gillis turned and saluted, grinning. "Sir! Good to have you back, sir!"

"At ease." They shook hands. "Give me an update, Colonel. Where do we stand?"

"I'd say we're just about ready to move out, sir. Lieutenant?" A lieutenant handed Wellington some papers.

Wellington looked at the numbers on the paper. The combined forces available were sufficient to break the enemy hold on the capital. "So, we'll have Antigran forces pushing up from the south, and Soviet forces pushing in from the east. What about Naashan and Alversian troops? I don't see them on the deployment."

"I figured we should hold them in reserve."

"Not this time. This is going to be a winner take all battle, and I prefer not having forces slinking off to form insurgent cells to spring up later." Wellington looked over the map. "Soviet forces can probably move to strike from the north - they'll be able to secure the ground and air force bases there effectively. Naashan troops can mix with ours for the push from the east. I'll leave the deployment of the Alversian troops to their general.

"Colonel Flynn, I'd like you to take charge of our own forces in the North - coordinate with the Soviet commanders, move to take the bases and the Trivalviapolis International Airport. That should cut off one escape route for Harrington."

"We'll do it for you, sir," Flynn replied.

"Gillis, I'd like your forces to work with the Naashans. You can push in from the east and move toward the Legislature."

"Consider it done, sir."

"I'll take charge of our forces in the south, and work with the Antigrans - we'll sieze the Sir Jack Harkness Airport and move up to the Legislature from there."

Colonel Gillis nodded. "Anyone care to make a wager which of our forces will reach the Legislature first?"

"Why not? Although don't endanger lives trying to win," Wellington cautioned. "How about the last commander reaching the Legislature buys drinks for all other commanders?"

Grins and nods all around. "Okay. Let's get to details. I'd like our troops to start the attack in one hour's time - no later..."

He didn't mention what MacKenzie had told him before he left - that there was a "professional" already in the city working to capture Harrington...

Trivalviapolis, the Legislature.

Harrington didn't dare stand - the headaches had been getting worse, and he didn't want to appear weak before his supporters. "General?"

Pelletier coughed. "As I was saying, sir, I'd rotated out battalion and company commanders I felt might waver or even break under the attack. The people I've put in their place are trustworthy and will keep our forces in order."

"Of course." Pelletier had said that earlier. Damn, what was wrong with his head? "What about MacKenzie? Is he planning to enter the city like some latter-day Ceaser?"

"What information we have suggests he's still in Bivalviaton. It doesn't look like Wellington is willing to risk his life in the coming battle."

Harrington nodded. "General Pelletier, Admiral Levitt; I must ask you to be frank with me - what are our chances?"

Pelletier hesistated. "To be 'frank', sir? Not good. We could lose this one."

"It will be tough, sir," Levitt agreed.

"If we're going to lose this battle... if we lose the country... then we'd better make sure MacKenzie cannot take it. No matter what else happens he. Must. Not. Survive. The. Day." Harrington winced and closed his eyes, waiting until the pain subsided.

"Admiral Levitt, can the ships we have shell Bivalviaton?"

"Yes sir. The Indomitable's guns would be best for that task."

Harrington said. "Then do it. Take our ships and shell Bivalviaton. Maybe it will force them to surrender, but don't stop until we know that MacKenzie is dead."

"Sir..." Pelletier was looking ill at the prospect of a city of thirty million being demolished to get at one man. "May I speak freely? Why is it so important that MacKenzie die?"

Harrington glared at the General. "I can't tell the full reasons. But suffice it to say, if he does not die today, he will destroy the country. Literally.

"I have evidence that MacKenzie will touch off a war that will result in a total nuclear exchange - the one that no nation on this planet will survive. I'd hoped just to keep him from power, but failing that he has to die. I can't give him the chance."

Pelletier looked at Harrington, his expression unreadable.

"If we survive the day, I expect to see that evidence," he said finally.

Harrington dismissed them and the two soldiers left to carry out their orders. Alone in his office, he groped for some painkillers.

Evidence... did he have evidence? It was getting harder to be certain of things. He hadn't been sleeping well... Harrington swallowed two pills and booted up the computer. He had the file... there. It was still there, the file that had propelled him on his path from backbencher to party leader to president. The file that had haunted his nightmares and drove him to this course of action. ORACLE.

Harrington knew that someone in MacKenzie's staff had a copy of this file, though he had only a vague idea who. He didn't know - and didn't pretend to understand - how this file had come to be. Yet it had been frightenly accurate with predicting the breakup of the major alliances and the shifts in power currently going on.

It was a horrendous burden to bear, the weight of the world. Yet he would bear it, no matter what happ--

Damn it! Why won't the headaches stop?!

[OOC: over to you, guys...]

The Alversian Paratroops, weary after battle, prepared to board their C-130's for hopefully the last time. Throughout the war, the Paratroops had acted virtually as commandos, staying hidden behind enemy lines until the time was right. Now they prepared for the last push, although they had no idea where they were going or what they were going to do. Major Frenc watched as his troops shuffled towards the planes and sighed. Eight days had aged him by several years and he kept aging everytime he saw the casualty list. Over 100 Alversian casualties from a unit of 500. Heavy by any means, but the survivors were ready to do their part and so Frenc marched to the HQ of the Free Forces in order to find a location in which to land or parachute into.

Major Hendley was getting slightly concerned. It had been three hours since the General spoke to him. Surely it would not take this long to get a simple set of or--

"Sir, General Franklin on the line!" A radioman yelled to him.

Good. Hopefully he won't be empty-handed. He took the handset and spoke into it.

"News, General?"

"Correct. I'll start with the good news. First, I finally convinced the doctors here that I can be discharged, so I'll be able to visit you. Unfortunately, I can't get in the action again, but I'll be able to stay with the rear-line forces, so I'll be moving with you guys.
Second, were going to have D-Day all over again, except without the landing craft and beaches and water.
We're going to storm Trivalviapolis!
Now, for the bad news. We're going to have to look after another bloody General!"

"Who? Sandrez? McCarron?"

"No. A Trivalvian General. Wellington!"

"What?"

"He's going in with us - actually, he'll probably be at the back with me. Anyway, first orders, get your men ready! We're sending Second Battalion forward and sending the fifth out of the line at Sussex. Wait for General Wellington and me, and then get moving!"

Franklin hung up. The Major was left slightly stunned. And he was right to be.
He would be joined by the General, three other majors, a Lieutenant-Colonel, hundreds of vehicles, seven attack helicopters, and the Trivalvian second-biggest cheese himself.

[OOC: Wellington will be joining us, right? If so, you'll have to RP him arriving or something. Expect the major waiting for him]

General Andrets had, of course, been informed in the change of plans, and without losing a second's time, he issued the order to change the course, move up north and then come back, esentially flanking the city of Trivalviapolis.

[OOC: Yeah, Antigr - Wellington is taking this battle personally and while he's not going to charge in singlehanded, he *does* plan to move into the town as the troops do.]

The Alversians were ready, their full strength gathered, which wasn't impressive. They only had 400 men but it was enough to carry out the mission at hand. As Major Frenc boarded the last C-130, he saluted his Captains who would lead the other detatchments. The aim was land in the suburbs of the capital with a unit 300 strong. Such a force could not be left unchecked behind enemy lines and so some of Harrington's forces would have to be redeployed to meet this new threat. That mean units being withdrawn from the line and others being stretched to cover the gap. An extended line that coud then be smashed by either Antigran, Soviet or Trivalvian Forces and create the opening needed to get into the city.

The other 100 men would be landed piecemeal behind enemy lines and thereon rely on their wits and the local populace to avoid detection whilst causing general mischief in the areas the enemy thought were safe. It was a bold plan no doubt but one perfectly suited to the Paratroops who were used to tough situations.

[OOC: O.K., Trivalvia, Delta One makes his triumphant -- if menacing -- return. Hope you don't mind the liberties I took, and your plans for Harrington's demise are fine by me, so long as Delta One secures enough physical evidence of his misdeeds to prove beyond a doubt his guilt.]

The Federal Legislature Complex, Trivalviapolis, 2119 Local Time

The night was an unusually cool one for this time of year. The man who had come here to do his work would know; he’d done his research well. The icy fingers of the wind reached out and caressed his cheek, but he ignored it much as he would have likely ignored any similar touch of the human variety.

There was another man on the ground near where the stone-faced visitor laid in wait. He was dismayed to find the large grass-green stain marring the front of his formerly-immaculate white security uniform.

Or at least he would have been, had he not had the misfortune of having two 6.64mm rounds lodged in his skull.

The black gleam of the brand-new, suppressed Hali-53 (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12900717&postcount=115) rifle felt superbly solid and lethal in the hands of the HCIA’s top assassin. Delta One had called it in from “Central” back in Washington just two days before, and they had managed to get him one despite the fact that the arms factories back home had hardly even started production -- but then, getting a brand-new assault rifle that the Army hadn’t even received yet was trivial for a man who had done so much for his country. He knew he could probably get a naval battlefleet -- or even nuclear weapons -- to back him up if it meant mission success; of course, if he needed to call either of those in, he had probably failed his mission anyways, but it was certainly an interesting thought exercise.

The Hali-53 reflected virtually none of the dim moonlight, giving no hint of its presence away to anyone who might be scanning the area near the dead man’s body -- not that anyone was likely to be watching this hillside on the back of the building where Harrington’s office was located. Despite their numbers and skill, the elite “Screaming Molluscs” unit that Central had warned Delta One about had only set up a hasty cordon around the Hill, and he’d found it only somewhat difficult to slip through the cracks under cover of night. However, this one guard -- who, despite the fact that he probably had good credentials to merit his posting here, screamed “rent-a-cop” to Delta One -- had gotten a little too close. Delta One set his rifle down, crawled forward into the shadows and hauled the corpse back to the brush where he had been concealed himself. He looked at his satellite phone again and shot off a query ping on an encrypted tight-beam connection to his back-up in the heavens. About ten seconds later, he received an affirmative ping. That was good -- he needed to ensure that his connection would work quickly and reliably if he needed it to.

He quickly reviewed his extraction plan once more, since he was close enough to seizing Harrington that his entry plan was now irrelevant. After seizing Harrington, he would exfil out of the Federal Legislature Complex and down the five-kilometer stretch west to the industrial area on the coast, where his contact would be waiting with a hydrofoil (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=9479835&postcount=50) for extraction to Bivalve Island. The problem was with exfil off the Hill; his controllers had said the situation with vehicles available on the Hill had changed from the initial sat overflights due to the increased hostilities near the Trivalviapolis area. They also said they were unable to redirect any of their satellites to update the picture on the Hill within the time constraints of the operations -- he would have to improvise. Hopefully Harrington had some sort of personal vehicle nearby -- perhaps he could bluff his way through the checkpoint as an intelligence agent moving Harrington to a secure location, or simply hotwire a car on the streets below. Otherwise, he’d have to call in his back-up, and then things would get very messy, very fast.

After ensuring that his position was not being watched and replacing the Hali-53 in his silver carrying case, Delta One crept forward towards the entrance into the utility tunnel that led to the basement of Harrington’s building. As he neared it, he stood up and walked in, quietly closing the door behind him. The tunnel stank of raw sewage, and Delta One had to make a serious effort to shut out the repulsive odors from his awareness. He had to stoop to fit his tall frame through the confines of the tunnel, but was nonetheless able to move at a fairly rapid clip. He pulled up the floorplans on his satphone as he went, navigating through the tunnels until he reached the trapdoor into the utility room closest to Harrington’s office. He set his case down, reached in, and removed a small camera attached to a viewing screen by a thin cable. He climbed up the ladder and removed the trapdoor cover ever so slightly, giving the camera just enough room to fit. On the viewing screen, he saw the interior of the room in full color -- not that there was much color to see in the dark room. He panned around, seeing little of interest -- except the large power transformer right near the slumped form of a technician who appeared to be napping on the job. Perfect.

He slowly shut the trapdoor, then climbed back down and replaced the cable before climbing back up again -- this time, with a silenced 9mm pistol in his hand. He climbed up fully this time, leaving the trapdoor open. He did it quickly enough that the technician began to stir. The technician opened his eyes just in time to see an unfamiliar man pointing a gun at his head. His eyes bugged in shock. Delta One stared back at him coldly, speaking quietly.

“You make a move, you die. You make a sound, you die. You attract attention in any way, you die. You give me your uniform and your ID right now, you live.”

The man seemed frozen to his spot for a moment, before slowly nodding and stripping off his jumpsuit and offering it and his ID card to Delta One in his outstretched hands. Delta One took them in his free hand, keeping his gun and eyes on the man. He gestured towards the trapdoor with his gun.

“Get down there. Don’t touch my equipment. You try to run, you die.”

The man nodded again, and climbed down. Delta One followed him down, closing the trapdoor after him. The technician had been looking at the sewage stream behind him with worry, before looking back to Delta One, just off the ladder. Delta One gave him a cursory look again, checking for anything he might have missed. It wasn’t likely that a low-level technician such as this man would need voice, retinal, or fingerprint identification to get to Harrington; his ID card would probably do, if there was some sort of problem where repair work needed to be done quickly, security be damned. Delta One lifted his 9mm and shot the man between the eyes without a word. The technician's head snapped back in a grotesque display of whiplash before his body fell back into the sewage stream to drift out with the rest of the detritus. Delta One watched the body float away for a few moments. A long time ago, he would have been troubled at the prospect of killing a non-principal in cold blood, but he couldn’t afford to have to factor an unconscious technician who could wake at any time during the op and alert security. Of course, the technician’s body would eventually emerge somewhere, but the op would be long over before then. He shook his head slightly, not knowing whether it was at the naïve sentimentality of such thoughts or an attempt to clear such thoughts from his mind, or both. He needed to get on with things.

He slipped the uniform over his black tactical apparel, which included his “liquid armor.” This was a bit of a misnomer despite the armor’s remarkable capabilities -- it consisted of a typical Kevlar military-style protection system with throat, chest, and groin protectors that had actually had fewer layers to reduce weight and increase mobility, but had been soaked with shear thickening fluid. The STF consisted of a mixture of hard nanoparticles in a nonevaporating liquid, which gave it odd properties: it behaved like a fluid under low-energy conditions, but rapidly hardened when agitated or impacted, causing it to temporarily assume solid-like qualities. The result was a bulletproof protection system that was lighter and allowed more flexibility than typical Kevlar vests, but actually provided superior protection to those vests. While the Halberdgardian Army was looking for a cost-effective way to implement this technology on a wide scale, HCIA had already adopted it for use in covert ops, an environment where the reduced visibility and increased flexibility of a thinner vest could be put to good use.

Delta One checked himself for unsightly bulges under the uniform and found nothing glaring. He didn’t look suspicious, at any rate. He set the dead technician’s ID into a small internal pocket of his case and pulled out the excellently-forged ID his HCIA contact had provided him with; his contact had said that Harrington's aversion towards technology meant the likelihood of any quick computerized vetting for such a low-level employee was unlikely, improving his odds. He clipped it to the uniform where the dead man’s card had been attached and zippered the jumpsuit up the front. He closed his case, climbed up the ladder, popped the trapdoor, and climbed into the room, which was thankfully still empty. He made sure his case was properly locked, then set it down in a dark corner out of immediate sight from the stairs. He found the electrical control panels that regulated power for this part of the building, popped open a panel door, and hooked up a small device that was designed to do two things: suck in and store enormous amounts of power, and explosively release it on command. Delta One powered up the device and let it run until it inevitably tripped a fuse. A soft sigh could be heard from above as the power cut out. Delta One quickly unplugged the device, shut the door, and stowed the device in a pocket for later. He waited for a few moments, grabbed his silver case in one hand and the dead technician's toolbox in the other, then affected an annoyed look and walked up the stairs into the main vestibule. At this hour of the night, Harrington would probably be one of the few people still here. He started walking in the direction of Harrington’s office.

[OOC: battle map is up in the OOC thread: http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12954344&postcount=214 ]

Southern Staging Area, 8:05 AM

The APC passed through the perimeter guards without incident, and drove up to the command tents. General Wellington stepped out.

The Free Trivalvian forces had four battalions of infantry and three tank regiments ready to move. Mixed in with them were soldiers and vehicles all bearing Antigran markings. Or rather, Wellington thought, it was more accurate to say that the Trivalvians were mixed in with the Antigran forces. There had to be five Antigran soldiers for every Trivalvian in this strike group.

When this was over, he resolved, the Trivalvian military would need to be greatly expanded. This was almost pathetic.

He recognized the ranking officer and extended a hand. "Major Hendley? I'm General Wellington. I'm glad to meet you at last. Has General Franklin arrived?"

Hendley took shook Wellington's hand warmly.

"Actually, that's him in those vehicles over there"

He gestured to a small column of three Antigran Jeeps and an Ambulance apporaching fast down the road from the MASH unit, bearing red crosses.
They got through the sentries and stopped in front of them.
The doors of the Ambulance opened and Lieutenant-General Franklin stepped out, right arm in a cast and sling but optomistic as ever.

He shook General Wellington's hand, and, after a short conversation, decided to explain the plans.

"Okay, General Wellington, to start off the attack we're going to shell the southern enemy fortifications and attack them with our attack helicopters at
the same time. Shortly after this, we will attack from the south-east, as troops may be diverted as they think the main front of our attack will be at southern points, rather than south-west.
About ten kilometers north-east of us, 2nd Battalion has already deployed, which leaves us with three Battalions back here - that's a grand total of 1800 men. Bearing in mind that this is an Airborne rather than regular army unit, we have considerably more airborne vehicles such as helicopters to back up our forces as well as the regular tanks and artillery.

Attack helicopters are, as we speak, being fitted with heavy missiles to strike at the same time as our artillery. These missiles are considerably more damaging than 155mm artillery shells.

Anyway, about fifteen minutes into the initial infantry and armoured attack of 2nd Battalion, the rest of us will move in slightly west of the southernmost point, because there is a hilly wooded area, that, if captured, could provide perfect sniper and artillery spotter country.

Now, we have one final secondary aim - for 2nd Battalion to link up with Alversian or Naashan forces the city.
We are trying to contact them now to arrange this (OOC: You could respond to that) but those forces should be able to cope on their own.

That's the plan, and if you want, General, you could tag along with me when we go in. I'll be with the second battalion to enter from the south, so the area should be reasonably safe by then. However, we could offer you some of our own body armour and anSMG if you want, and if you haven't got any better things. Well, that's the plan. Comments?"

Major Frenc managed to find a working radio amongst his troops, following the disasterous rescue mission. He sighed as he turned it on, finally the day had come. He waited for moment before speaking into the mouthpiece "Antigran forces? This is the Alversian CO, we request a brief meeting to decide a strategy for storming the city" he waited again. It was up to the Antigran Forces to decide the next move.

General Wellington examined the map carefully. It was a good plan, and with considerably more options for support.

"My command gear is in my APC - no way for us to get it connected with yours; so if I'm going to command my own troops effectively I'll have to stay with it. I thank you for the offer, though.

"I do have one thing to add, though. We've moved the air squadrons we had stationed on Bivalve Island over to the New Moncton AFB yesterday. Now satellite recon -" he touched a few spots on the map "- identified what looked like anti-air rockets as well as a couple of communication towers behind enemy lines. And there are at least sixty tanks that look immobilized; I suspect Pelletier's using them as stationary anti-armour emplacements. Desperate, but potentially effective.

"I think our squadrons should take the lead in the air attack - they can go in, hit the anti-air emplacements and towers ahead of your attack helicopters, and they'll likely draw fire for any surviving anti-air emplacements from your copters, allowing them to finish the job. Thankfully, Pelletier has no actual artillery units, so infantry is spared that problem, at least."

A lieutenant approached Wellington. "Colonel Flynn and Colonel Gillis have both reported in - they're with their respective strikeforces and are awaiting the order to advance."

"Excellent, tell them to stand by. Any word from the Naashans yet? I'm not sure how long we can wait."

"Not certain, sir." The lieutenant paused as his minder beeped. "Excuse me, sir... It's Bivalviaton AFB. They've got new activity on the satellite net."

"Patch it through... Bivalviaton, this is Wellington."

"Sir, the Nationalist fleet has put out to sea, all ships are on a course that will take them right to our harbour. We estimate they'll be in range in six hours."

Wellington frowned. This was an unexpected move. He and Admiral Carter were certain the enemy would keep their sea assets close to home, or at least at the north inlet to the Trivalvian Sea, to keep a supply channel open for an extended siege.

A counterattack, Pelletier? Planning to take our capital while we take yours? Aloud he said, "Has our fleet been assembled?"

"Yes sir. The Admiral should be boarding her flagship as we speak."

"Pass the satellite feed to her. She should be able to intercept them before they reach Bivalviaton. And if there are any Naashan naval units in the area, request their aid - I'd prefer we force a surrender rather than sink a third of our own fleet. Wellington out."

He looked at General Franklin. "Well, it appears we'll have to move now. Would you like the honour of ordering the attack?"

* * *

TNS Bivalviaton, 220 kilometers southwest of Trivalviapolis.

"Admiral on deck!"

Admiral Yvonne Carter returned the salute the bridge crew gave her as she stepped up to the command station. "As you were." She couldn't help but grin - after months she was back where she belonged.

She picked up a headset and affixed it over her head. "Put me through to Vice Admiral Everett aboard the Resolute, private channel."

"Everett."

"Admiral," Carter said. "Are your ships ready?"

"We're as ready as we can be," came the reply.

"What about you?" she asked softly. "Think you can see this through?"

A pause; Everett must be thinking back to his confrontation with the Naashan fleet. "I don't think I can remain in command if I didn't try," he said finally. "Besides, this way the sides are more even. I won't run this time."

"Admiral?" It was Lieutenant Gautier, at communications. "We've got new information from Bivalviaton AFB. It looks like the Indomitable and its escorts have put to sea."

"Put the images up on my screen, please." Carter looked at the satellite pictures and the projected course. "Navigation, I need a course to intercept that fleet as soon as possible."

"Yes sir." The two officers at Navigation began consulting with maps and computers. "I've got a course. We can intercept them in one hour."

Carter watched the planned course appear on her screen, and nodded. "Send this course to all ships. Gautier, please patch me through to all ships in the fleet."

"Ready, sir. You're on speaker."

"All ships: this is Admiral Carter. We have recieved new data on the remaining ships under Levitt's flag. They are currently on a course for Bivalviaton and will reach it in the next few hours.

"Satellite imagery shows no transport ships, which leads me to believe their intent is not to invade the city. With naval vessels, that leaves only one other possibility." She let that sink in.

"We are evenly matched at the moment, so I can't guarantee our success, much less how many of us will survive this encounter. But we have to try to stop them - the very honour of the Trivalvian Navy is at stake, as are millions of lives. This is what you've been trained for, what you've joined the service to do.

"All ships; proceed at once on the course Navigation has sent you. Ahead full.

"Battle stations."

As Wellington strode off, a Sergeant yelled to Franklin from a command vehicle.

"Sir! Radio message from Alversian Forces, concerning our immediate assault plans!"

Franklin jogged over, and picked up the radio's mouthpeice. After a short conversation, he left and went up to Major Hendley.

"Major, I'm leaving for Alversian Terrritory for a small conference. I'm giving you temporary command status until Lieutenant-Colonel Starkey arrives, he's being transferred from Sussex AFB. See you in a few hours"

Hendley managed not one word in the conversation as Franklin walked away towards the motor pool.

Not ten minutes later, and he had signed out some Jeeps, several equipped with missiles as a precaution, and all having a MG. He waved to the Major as he left, and then yelled some final words.

"Starkey will be here in half an hour!"

[OOC: So sorry for two weeks of inactivity! My net went down a day before I started my holiday, so I didn't get a chance to warn you. I'll try to pick up the recent events and start posting again today.]

[OOC: Welcome back, Naasha! Sorry to hear about your net troubles, although I hope you enjoyed your holiday. OOC thread has battle map for land forces - I've listed a spot where you might want to deploy, though feel free to change it. And if you've got ships ready for battle, the sea battle is ready to kick off.]



Bridge of the TNS [I]Indomitable,
Flagship of the Nationalist fleet
0812 hours local time.

As the fleet sped towards Bivalviaton, Admiral Levitt took some time to check with the Indomitable's captain.

"As you instructed, I've kept the full details of our mission from the crew. Bridge officers had to be informed, of course," the captain told him.

"Any dissenters?"

"None, but I stationed a couple of Marines I can trust on the bridge, just in case."

"Good." Levitt paused. "I expect our departure will have alerted the enemy, and they may have ships en route."

The captain frowned. "How many?"

"We don't have full data, but at least five Guardian-class cruisers, seven Asher-class frigates... and two Longsword battleships. We have no data on what allied ships might be with them. I need to know if this ship is ready."

The captain grinned. "I think we might have a surprise for them. If you'll follow me?"

He led the Admiral down into the middle decks of the battleship, to the Fire Control room. "All Longswords have the Kraken FCS, of course, to manage the number of weapons we have on board. Six 406mm 55-calibre main guns, 4 127 mm 54-calibre secondary guns..."

"I'm familiar with the ship's armament, Captain."

"Of course, sir. However, the Longswords had modifications to our weapons to allow for the experimental Sniper Advanced FCS to be linked into them, and this ship has had some extra modifications..." He opened the door to the Fire Control room, and they stepped inside.

Banks of supercooled processors greeted them, maintained by two navy technicians. One spotted the arrivals. "Officers on deck!" He stood and saluted, as did his companion.

"At ease," said the captain. "How's the Hitman?"

"Functioning perfectly, sir. We've made final adjustments over the past week, and I can guaruntee you 99.99% accuracy. Full functionality is restricted to the main turrets, however. All secondary weapons are still being managed by the Sniper and the Kraken."

"So it's installed," said Levitt. He took a moment to run a hand over one of the consoles. The Hitman was Levitt's personal addition to the Trivalvian arsenal. Building on the attempts of the Sniper fire control computers to identify and target sections of a ship, the Hitman FCS not only improved on the Sniper's accuracy, but took human inaccuracy out of the loop. Both main turrets of the Indomitable now were under direct computer control.

The system had worked perfectly in simulations, but real combat was another thing. This would be the Hitman's baptism of fire.

Levitt smiled. "Incredible technology, isn't it, Captain? Inside twenty years we might not even need people to crew our ships. One general will be able to wage war from the safety of his office."

"Sir," said the captain, keeping his face neutral.

"I've seen enough. Let's get back to the bridge. I expect we'll be coming into ID range before long."

[OOC note: the "Hitman" is included here for a specific story purpose, but it's only on one ship - so the "incredible accuracy" of the Hitman will not be available to all Nationalist ships. Also - now that Naasha's back, sheer numbers will render the Hitman's strategic usefulness moot.

The two Longsword ships on the Free Trivalvian side - the Bivalviaton and the Resolute, both have Kraken FCS computers - which allow for some accuracy in targetting ships, but they don't have the Sniper or Hitman systems to allow them to pick off, say, a weapons turret or the bridge.]

Trivalvian Coastal Waters

The '6th Carrier Group (Surdun)' headed north at full power, the two aircraft carriers, two battleships and assorted escorts would all add their weight to the Loyalist naval forces in what could be one of the final engagements of the brief war.

The Carrier Air Group maintained a CAP of F-14's from the NNS Oasis while realtime satellite and radar data from the circling E-2 AWACS bird was fed directly to the operations room of Admiral Grant's flagship, the NNS Jewel of the Deserts.

An officer called to the Admiral, "Sir, we will intercept the Nationalist fleet in about an hour. Hawkeye reports distant surface contacts."

"Good, keep our distance from the friendly fleet and order the Group to standby alert."

Aboard the thirty-six vessels and the closer two submarines of the 6th Group, an identical klaxon sounded, calling the men and women of Naasha and Surdun to battle stations.

Eastern Staging Area

Marshal Hendrie walked amongst the tents and hastily constructed shelters of the staging area, his chest swelling with pride at the efficiency and well... the sheer strength of his infantry forces. His boys of the 33rd Light looked alert and ready for combat, the ladies too, he reminded himself, for his was a mixed battalion.

The other units looked good too, the 34th and 35th Light as well as the Desert Rifles. He had already sent most of the 5th Airborne guys to secure the surrounding countryside, partly out of confidence in their ability to do the job and partly because he couldn't stand hanging around with the paras for too long.

He called together the heads of each unit, as well as the Trivalvian commading officers and any who the Alversians could spare. Gesturing to the map, he ran his finger across the open ground to the east of the capital.

"We have a challenging task, ladies and gentlemen. The flat ground along our path to the capital is favourable to armoured units, yet the risk of hitting civilians is high, as we're in a reasonably populated area."

"I propose we play to the strengths of our predominantly infantry forces and move into populated areas as quickly as possible. We'll use convoys of light vehicles with some armour support to dash from village to village until we reach the city outskirts."

"It is likely that we'll face Nationalist tanks, in which case infantry AT teams can deal with them in built up areas. Where they seek to engage us in the countryside they will be easier to eliminate using air support. We have Naashan F-22's and I'm sure we can count on some Antigran attack helicopters too."

"Once we have the bulk of our forces on the city outskirts we'll use the terrain to our advantage and attempt to pierce the enemy defenses. We'll punch through terraced buildings on the ground floor to minimise exposure to enemy fire and link up with Antigran or Soviet forces to push on the Legislature."

Soviet HQ, North of Trivalviapolis

The officers meeting had started only minutes ago, though news ran fast across the camp, thus already a group of interested troopers was sitting outside the Headquarters waiting for news on the coming attack.

As a matter of fact, most of the battle plans had already been laid out, checked, double checked and the units involved readied. Things would go as follow:


The Soviet Air Force would blast the remaining F-39s off the skies, thus ensuring air superiority
Armoured units, backed up by IFVs and infantry mounted in APCs would move into the city
At the same time, a small unit of paratroopers would try and make strategical jumps into the city, as well as capturing the legislative building
Airborne units are to hold out until relief arrives, with Harrington secured, the Soviets will fortify the area and wait for the rest of the Coalition

Sorry for leaving this so late, people, but I'm on holiday tommorow until a week after tommorow.

Anyway, just expect my forces to do what you'd expect them to do. They will still be fighting, I just won't be RP'ing them, but If you looked at my second-previous post you'll find what my objectives and plans are, so just expect them to be carried out as normal.

Sorry 'bout that. Anyway, I may be able to get internet access sometime but don't count on it. :rolleyes: