NationStates Jolt Archive

[OOC: Don't sweat it, Antigr - have a good holiday and we'll see you when you get back.]

Land Battle: 8:40 AM Local Time

The opening salvoes of the battle began as Antigran artillery opened up. The first shots fell short, but once ranging was calibrated, the second salvo began to impact around several trenches and machine gun emplacements.

At the same time, three Trivalvian squadrons flew in low and fast, the mixed F-39s and F-22s equipped with air-to-ground missiles. Sixty rockets lanced out as one, seeking out anti-air guns and communication towers.

The first salvo of artillery had alerted the Nationalists, and the alarm was spreading through their lines as the planes came overhead. Some anti-air crews got to their guns and began to send up Stingers and 25 mm shells. On the first pass, the flak went wide, but two Stingers found their targets, and the first kills were scored on the Nationalist side.

The lead plane called in to their commanders at Bivalviaton AFB.

"We show twenty-six confirmed hits," the airbase staff replied. "Be advised there are still eleven anti-air sites on that side."

"Roger that, HQ. Let's pincer them." The pilot signaled his planes, and they swooped over the city to make another pass.

As the Trivalvian planes prepared to make their second pass, information flowed to the Antigran attack helicopters now flying toward the enemy lines. Their missiles soon joined the second Trivalvian salvo in an aerial crossfire. The last anti-air sites on the south front were ruins in minutes.

Unfortunately, those last moments were enough for the surviving crews to return fire before they were destroyed. Wellington's plan worked - all of the last anti-air fire were directed solely at the Trivalvian planes - nine more planes were shot down before the cluster were safely out of range. There were no casualties among the Antigran planes.

Now unchecked, the Antigran attack helicopters began to concentrate on destroying hardened positions among the Nationalist ground forces.

Nationalist Field Command

General Pelletier listened to the reports from the southern forces carefully. So, Wellington and his allies were opening up with a southern attack. He almost expected the forces gathering in the east to strike first - terrain favoured them better.

"Order our forces in our southeastern flank to send two tank companies to the south front. And tell infantry to break out what SAM launchers they have.

"Lastly, get our last squadron and start swatting those helicopters."

[OOC: Naasha, TWSP, assume both your battle plans are accepted - feel free to start your attacks anytime]

Any nationatiolist soldier with some experience would have noticed the Soviet were coming by now as there were several clear signs, the first one being the loud rumbling noise as hundred of tanks, IFVs and APCs drove, their guns pointed forward, at the nationalist positions as they charged, the second were the hundreds of planes covering the skies, F-22s, F-28s, FA 15Ds, A-10s, you name it, the soviets had it.

The main strike force impacted the nationalist positions like a tidal wave, thousands of troops dismounting and taking the battle into the bunkers, opening fire on buildings held by the enemy, calling attack choppers to back them up, and so and so forth. Any Trivalvian who didnt succumb to the good ol' "Tank Fear" would be disposed of by the attacking force.

Except for POWs, and anyone wishing to surrender, of course.

Meanwhile, an elite group of paratroopers riding C-130s made their way into the city center, they'd jump as soon as the legislative building came into view.

OOC: Could I get a basic run down of the LB's defenses?

The C-130's droned overhead as the battle raged between Free Trivalvian Fighters and the SAM sites below. Aboard were the 400 Paratroops of the Alversian 3rd Regiment, making hopefully their last drop of the campaign. Nobody spoke, for they were all focusing on what was about to happen, the Paratroops would land in the south and so provide an area for the Native Trivalvians and Antigrans to battle towards.

"One minute!" came the call over the intercomm as the Paratroops grabbed their weapons and equipment and stood near the door ready to begin their final battle. The light above the door changed from red to green, the lead paratroop took a deep breath and stepped from the plane. He had a brief glimpse of the neighbouring C-130's doing the same thing before the ground consumed his thoughts and view.

Following several tense minutes of freefall and gliding, the first Paratroops landed in the local square as planned. Immediately they threw off their packs, grabbed their weapons and ran to the nearby buildings. It seemed they had caught the Nationalists off guard, but soon a counter-attack would be launched and those troops would be denied to the front line. As the machine guns and small field guns were set up the Alversians sat back to wait for relief from the advancing Allies.

Eastern Front

The battle opened a little more quietly here, with neither the rumble of tanks or the crashing retorts of artillery marring the calm morning air. The withdrawal of further Nationalist tank companies from the path of the Naashan and Free Trivalvian forces was something of a godsend, and allowed for rapid movement and consolidation of the lighter allied forces across the open fields.

Mechanised infantry companies, mostly Naashan in the first wave, were quick to launch the offensive from the east. Columns of HMMWV's, trucks and Bradley IFV's spearheaded the assault along main roads, targeting key villages. The initial defenses were cleared with surprising ease, allowing fresh troops and replacement vehicles to be brought up to the front line.

Naashan F-22's flew 'Wild Weasel' SAM suppresion missions ahead of the advancing infantry, trying to shut down the remaining Nationalist air defenses in their path and allow the soon to be needed close air support missions to continue. The Nationalist resistance would only get tougher as they neared the city.

[OOC: TWSP, This post (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12848459&postcount=199) gives the basics on the fortifications in and around the Legislature. I'd originally written this up for Halbergardia and his Delta One insertion (which is going on as we speak), but the parts describing external defenses at the end would probably serve your needs as well].

Southern Front:

Wellington noted the reports with satisfaction. The Antigran helicopters had opened up several holes in the enemy anti-armour defenses, and artillery was successfully suppressing infantry along part of the southern front.

"We can probably break through the enemy lines midway and encircle the western half," he told General Franklin over a secure channel. "Our armour and air support should be able to exploit the breach and engage enemy tanks directly before they close it up."

Orders soon were sent to the first infantry battalions waiting in their APCs to storm the lines. The 3rd Armoured Regiment of the Trivalvian forces sped ahead of them, to serve as a shield against surviving enemy anti-armour.

Enemy mines here were sporadic - most of the mines had been used on the major roads - but there were still enough to claim losses before the vehicles reached their objective. Four tanks and three APCs were destroyed by mines. Another three tanks and eight APCs were destroyed or disabled by enemy fire; infantry carrying anti-armour RPGs had escaped the artillery barrage and air strikes, and were now doing their best to keep the line intact.

The disabled APCs opened and their passengers emerged, keeping low to avoid fire. The infantry nearest the trenches began to lob grenades - combined with the final barrage of artillery shells, the explosions disrupted the enemy long enough for tanks and APCs to punch through the line.

Once through, the forces split - tanks headed east, APCs west. Antigran and Trivalvian forces exploited and expanded the breach over the coming half hour. The southern front battle was now at close quarters.

The southeastern Nationalist forces began to advance in a move to flank the forces that had breached their lines - only to meet with Antigran forces advancing to attack them. Their advance halted, and soon the woods were filled with the sound of automatic weapons fire as both sides tried to wear each other down.

5 miles behind Nationalist Lines
Southern Front

"Fire!" Frencs shouted and ducked as the small field gun kicked back, throwing up dust and debris as it spat flame from the barrel, the noise however was not loud enough to hid the automatic fire from the surrounding buildings. Frenc watched the results through the debris and shouted back to the gun crew "direct hit lads! two down!" bullets rattled against the gun shield and hampered the reloading of the gun.

All around the square, gunfights raged as the Nationalist infantry continued to counter-attack the Paratroops.So far, the Alversians were holding their ground but they couldn't hold forever. The people would either need to support the paratroops or the Free Forces fight through to them. The breech had been made but not held forever.

[OOC: *cough* 25 miles - 40 kilometers - behind Nationalist lines on the southern front would put the Alversian Paratroopers safely behind the Trivalvian/Soviet forces on the northern front - and thus bringing up the rear to their allies. Maybe we should amend/retcon their drop position to 5 kilometers (3 miles) behind enemy lines? That would put your forces in the outer space of the urban area, and be able to garrison inside buildings (and you won't have to change your post other than distance - there's a fair chance that once the shells started falling, Nationalist reserves would likely be on high alert...)]

Meanwhile...

Naval Battle: Opening Shots

On the bridge of the Indomitable:

Admiral Levitt stood at the forward windows on the bridge, viewing the approaching enemy fleet with his binoculars. The ships were still a significant distance away - over thirty kilometers - and even with the binoculars the ships were tiny to view.

The water, the Admiral noted, was especially calm today. Good. The Hitman would have enough issues firing at this range without having to account for sea chop.

The ship's captain stepped up to him. "Admiral, we've completed a count of enemy ships - 14 rebel ships, and at least twenty Naashan vessels - we're having trouble ID-ing some of the Naashan ships, though."

"Are the rebel ships closest to us, or the Naashans?"

"Rebel ships, sir. And their commander has sent us a challenge - they're ordering our surrender and instructing us to prepare to recieve boarders."

"Really?" Levitt turned and faced the captain. "Who is the commander?"

The captain lowered his voice, "Yvonne Carter."

Levitt raised his eyebrows. "So the bitch got to her ships?" he muttered to himself.

"Shall we respond?"

Levitt nodded. "Of course. Which is the closest rebel ship?"

The captain consulted the radar. "TNS Nereid, an Asher-class frigate. Range... 28 kilometers." On one screen, a magnified image of the Nereid appeared, and boxes were drawn around the visible surface systems - the forward gun, the bridge and comm tower, both Harpoon anti-shipping launchers, and the hull.

"Feed the position to the Hitman, and get a shooting solution for the Nereid's bridge. Fire when able." Levitt turned back to the windows, and resumed scanning the seas with his binoculars. Hopefully he'll see the first kill.

TNS Bivalviaton:

Admiral Yvonne Carter paced across the bridge. "Any response to our challenge?" she asked the officer at the Signals desk.

"Nothing yet, sir."

"Levitt can't be that much of a fool - we're practically in each other's weapons range and he should see the Naashan ships as well. He knows he's outnumbered." She paused. "Resend the challenge. Gunnery: prepare to fire a warning shot at the Nationalist fleet--"

The sound of a blast cut her off. "Report!"

"We've lost contact with the Nereid," replied another officer. "Clean break."

The Bivalviaton's captain frowned. "Equipment failure?"

"Not sure. Hold on... we're getting a message from the frigate Polaris."

Carter went to the Signals desk. "Put it through."

"...captain of the Polaris. The Nereid has taken enemy fire!"

Carter picked up a headset. "Captain, this is Admiral Carter. Say again, please?"

"Repeat, the Nereid has taken enemy fire. Our officers on deck saw it happen - the bridge was taken out! The crew's abandoning ship - request permission to--" A roar over the speakers, then silence.

"Captain? TNS Polaris, please respond!" Static answered her.

"Admiral? We're getting other reports from neighboring ships. The Polaris has been hit - same as the Nereid."

How the hell...? "Tell the fleet to stop! Now!"

"All stop!" echoed the ship's captain. Carter went to the radar map, and looked at it. We're thirty kilometers from the Nationalists, give or take... that puts us in the range of the main guns of the Indomitable, but even they shouldn't have the accuracy to pick off the bridge of a ship at this range...

"Captain," she said. "Fill me in; has there been any special projects the Navy undertook during my... absense?"

"The Indomitable did spend some time at the New Moncton Shipyards last month for some upgrades, but we never learned what they were. Rumour had it there were improvements to the fire control systems but..." He looked at her, realization in his eyes. "The Sniper FCS?"

"Maybe, but last tested range for the Sniper was nineteen kilometers. They must have made improvements." She cursed under her breath. "Order the fleet to pull back two kilometers - and signal the Naashan's, let them know what's going on."

The first wave of C-130s to reach the Legislative Building opened their hatches, and let loose thousands of fliers, colored papers and confetti. This flashy propaganda asked the Trivalvians to surrender peacefully, to avoid further bloodshed, and urged them to listen to the incoming Soviets, just in case they were not properly convinced.

Then came the Paratroopers, inside each aircraft, an electric signal was sent to a circuit which in turn, wel, turned on a green light, giving the signal to jump. In a matter of minutes, the skies were covered by Soviet Paratroopers, some of them already opening fire on the Trivalvians below them.

Meanwhile, the main force had made considerable progress into the city, wherever they went, civilians cheered them and nationalists either fled or surrendered, the Soviets felt like winners already.

Naval Battle: Arrival of the 6th

"Copy that, thank you Bivalviaton."

The signals officer aboard the NNS Jewel of the Deserts removed his headset and hurried over to Admiral Lawrence Grant. The swarthy Admiral was hunched over a realtime overlay of the battle, which was now notably missing two Trivalvian frigates.

"Message from Admiral Carter on the Bivalviaton, sir. The two frigates are hit and abandoning ship, they believe the TNS Indomitable is using an advanced FCS to pick them off from afar. The Loyalist ships are withdrawing now."

"Thanks, S.O. I'll talk to her from here."

Grant picked up another headset from a wall bracket opposite the overlay board and adjusted the microphone.

"TNS Bivalviaton, this Admiral Lawrence Grant onboard the NNS Jewel of the Deserts. We're thirty-five klicks distant from the Nationalist fleet, but we could use a hand identifying each vessel. I'm going to hold my carriers here and conduct air attacks while my two Dauntlesses close within their own gun range."

Even as he spoke, F-18E Super Hornets carrying AGM-84 Harpoon missiles were taking off from the decks of the two Naashan carriers, aiming to strike back at the fringe ships of the Nationalist fleet. Alternate, smaller flights of Hornets would lead the appropriately named 'Swarm' at a higher altitude, using their HARM missiles to try and take out the radiating air defense radars on the Trivalvian ships.

[OOC: Trivalvia, I hope you don’t mind me RPing the guards -- I can edit if you do. Obviously, I’ll stop taking liberties when it comes to Harrington.]

The Federal Legislature Complex, Trivalvapolis, 2134 Local Time

Delta One maintained the annoyed look on his face as he approached the soldiers from the 1st Battalion in the hallway outside Harrington’s office. He flashed his ID.

“Tim Connelly from Maintenance,” he said, affecting the tone of someone who was rather pissed off at this kind of bullshit after a long day but was nevertheless attempting to be polite, “I need to get into the President’s office. We’re having some more wiring issues, if you couldn’t tell, and there’s a crucial section I need to examine that passes through his office. Would you mind escorting me in? I’d really rather not have to explain this to the other four grunts.”

The Molluscs eyed him warily. The burlier of the two rolled his eyes, obviously annoyed. “Jesus Christ, the wiring again? For fuck’s sake, can’t you techies even keep the lights running in this place?” he asked, his tone tinged with a mixture of contempt and disbelief.

“Hey, it’s not my fucking problem, O.K., Sunshine?” Delta One’s short-tempered technician alias snapped back. “I just work here. It’s not my fault we got shitty-ass subcontractors to light this place up.”

The burlier Mollusc scowled at Delta One, clearly anxious to teach this smartass technician a lesson, but his wiry comrade shot him a warning glare. The wiry one waved a hand of dismissive, grudging assent. “Go fix your shit so we can fucking see again. We’re tired of this bullshit.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t see me grinning from ear to fucking ear either, now, do you?”

The wiry Mollusc snorted, then grabbed his walkie-talkie and thumbed the talk button. “Oscar Golf, this is Hotel Sierra, do you copy?”

After a moment, the walkie-talkie crackled to life. “Hotel Sierra, this is Oscar Golf. What can we do you for?”

“I got a Tim Connelly from Maintenance who’s here to put the lights back on. He wants in to the President’s office to take a look at some wiring. Can I trust you not to shoot him?”

“Well, I might, since it took him long enough to get his ass up here, but I think I’ll take the lights over blood stains on the fancy carpet. Hold on a sec.” There was a pause; presumably Oscar Golf was checking with Harrington himself to determine whether or not to admit Delta One. After a few moments, Oscar Golf came back. “Alright, send him in, and tell him we’re not paying by the fucking hour.”

The Mollusc laughed. “Roger that, Oscar Golf, we’ll kick him to you. Over and out.” He looked at Delta One and smirked. “Better get in there, techie.”

“Yeah, go fuck yourself,” Delta One replied as he slid past the two men and walked in. The four men who Delta One supposed collectively made up “Oscar Golf” -- “Office Guard,” he supposed, along with “Hallway Sentry” for “Hotel Sierra” -- gave him varying looks that all resided in the range between glares and smirks. He thought the designations terribly uncreative for the group of men charged with defending the country’s leader while he was in his office. He also derived no small satisfaction from the knowledge that all six of these men would likely be dead in the coming hours.

He knocked on the heavy ornate wooden doors that led into Harrington’s office, then slowly opened one and walked in. “Mr. President, sir?” he said, affecting a tone of proper obsequiousness, “I’m here about the power outage. My apologies, sir. If you don’t mind, I’ll get right to work on getting things back up and running.”

Federal Legislature

Harrington looked at the technician that came in. Harrington never admitted to being an expert on the Legislature's construction, but he didn't think there was anything essential to power distribution in his office.

The guards didn't consider him to be a threat though.

But still - if he could order a fleet to kill MacKenzie, couldn't MacKenzie arrange...?

Harrington squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to calm down. Paranoia. There might be an army out there baying for your blood but not everyone is an enemy. Not everyone is an enemy...

"Go ahead," he said to the technician. But he kept glancing back at the tech, and one hand placed itself on the drawer where he kept a small pistol, though heaven help him if he had to use it...

Outside:

Private Schlock grumbled as he searched the grounds. Private Fox hadn't reported in when he was supposed to, and the brass was getting itchy.

He saw the corner of a boot under some hedges. "Fox?" he called out. "If you're smoking on the job I'll cart your sorry butt to the Colonel myself..."

Schlock pushed the bushes aside... and swore. Fox was beyond loafing... beyond help, it seemed. Remembering his training, Schlock bent down and examined the body. Whoever killed him was a professional.

"Damn," he muttered. "Perimeter to HQ, we have a breach. One dead, professional hit."

Southern Front

Major Phillips caught sight of weapons fire. Popping the top hatch on his APC, he briefly scanned the area with his binoculars - had to make this quick in case there were enemy snipers about.

He saw several soldiers, all wearing Alversian uniforms, engaged in a battle with some Nationalist forces.

Phillips had plans for promotion. And here was a chance for some initiative. He radioed the situation in to his battalion commander, and requested permission to assist. The response came back in seconds. Permission granted.

Phillips smiled. "All vehicles in Company 'C', 6th Battalion: follow my lead, prepare for enemy fire." His APC surged forward.

The Nationalists were busy attempting to reset one of their heavy machine gun mounts when the vehicles of company 'C' arrived. Mounted machine guns on the APCs began to provide cover fire, while troops poured out the back. In minutes, the battle was turned, and the Nationalist company they opposed was broken, survivors fleeing away from them - and away from the city.

Sadly, Phillips would not get his promotion. A Nationalist bullet caught him in the neck, severing an artery. He died before medics could reach him.

(Losses on the southern front:
Free Trivalvian Forces: 143 soldiers, 19 tanks.
Nationalist Trivalvian Forces: 420 soldiers, 29 tanks.)

The Paratroops cheered as the APC's burst through the piled up debris. The small field guns continued to provide fire until the Nationalists broke away and attempted to flee. The Alversians continued to advance as support with the Free Forces. They were determined to be there at the end of the battle. At the head of the advance was Captain Morphen, Major Frencs had been killed by a grenade blast as the house he was holding was stormed by Nationalists.

Alversian Losses in Plaza Battle
55 KIA
96 WIA

Eastern Front

Just one more village...

Lieutenant Redman glared at the approaching houses, trying to spot signs of Nationalist activity. His column had encountered only light resistance so far, Nationalist squads pinned down by allied air assualts and forced to make a stand, mostly. Leaning from the window of his Humvee, he waved the trailing Bradley IFV to the front of the column as they entered the settlement.

It was quiet, a little too quiet, if you decided to be melodramatic about it, but Chris Redman wasn't going to complain about not getting shot at. Still, there was something odd about the place, he decided as the vehicles of his platoon idled to a halt in the small cobbled square in the centre of the village.

The infantry began to disembark from trucks and the backs of their HMMWV's, dispersing slowly up empty driveways and into each house in turn. Redman frowned, empty driveways? In most places, the civilian population had stayed put, complete with their possessions and their vehicles, yet here there was no trace of occupation.

It's like somebody turned them out, Redman thought, someone didn't want them in the firing line.

"Find cover! This looks like a tra-" the remainder of his words were cut off as the vehicle next to his exploded in a ball of flame. A second projectile smashed into a truck in the rear of the column, the screams of its occupants horrific as they tried to escape the burning vehicle. A third rocket screamed out of the upstairs window of a shop further down the street and glanced off the Bradley's armour, detonating against a wall.

"Suppressing fire, the buildings on the left!" The Lieutenant called to his gunner, who opened fire with the mounted .50 caliber, the large rounds smashing through the thin woodwork of the older cottages. Other vehicles followed his lead, pinning down the enemy while their squads got into cover and returned fire.

Redman gunned the ignition, put the Humvee in reverse and tried to back out of the firing line, back the way they had come. The sight that greeted him as he glanced in his rearview mirror chilled him to the bone. The twenty Nationalist tanks were only a few hundred metres away, bearing down on the combat along the main road. The distant rumble of others circling the village reached his ears. They were trapped.

He accelerated back into the square, and snatched up his radio, "Nationalist tanks on both roads. Take cover in the buildings, now!" Even as he reached the still raging firefight he could see that he was too late, a tank was heading straight up the opposite road towards them. The infantry, including Redman, abandoned their vehicles and positions, running toward the nearest shelter to conceal them from the tanks advance, but most weren't going to make it in time before the enemy armour entered the square.

A growl ahead of him made Redman look up, and to his horror he saw the column's lead Bradley surge forward to block the oncoming tank, it's TOW launcher defiantly tracking the armoured foe. Behind, the other Bradley followed suit, reversing to block the way they had come, shielding them for a moment. A whooshing sound accompanied the launch of a TOW missile, followed a second later by an explosion as the tank ahead of them lost it's turret spectacularly.

Even as the rest of the platoon dived into cover in various buildings, the ominous report of tank cannons reached their ears, signalling the deaths of the heroic vehicle crews who had protected them. But the hulls of the IFV's still blocked both access points, buying them some time. Lieutenant Redman touched his helmet radio, "Platoon, this is Redman. Those guys bought us some time, but not much. Squads, clear the remaining Nationalist held buildings and occupy them. AT crews report directly to me, remember, fire and move, stay on the lower floors if you can."

"33rd HQ, this Lieutenant Redman. Platoon is trapped in Village 7, Nationalist tank forces have encircled us. Request immediate air support, have medivac standing by."

Federal Legislature

Harrington looked at the technician that came in. Harrington never admitted to being an expert on the Legislature's construction, but he didn't think there was anything essential to power distribution in his office.

The guards didn't consider him to be a threat though.

But still - if he could order a fleet to kill MacKenzie, couldn't MacKenzie arrange...?

Harrington squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to calm down. Paranoia. There might be an army out there baying for your blood but not everyone is an enemy. Not everyone is an enemy...

"Go ahead," he said to the technician. But he kept glancing back at the tech, and one hand placed itself on the drawer where he kept a small pistol, though heaven help him if he had to use it...

Delta One nodded and walked into the adjoining part of the office, just out of Harrington's sight, put his case and the silver case down, and quickly stripped out of his jumpsuit. He grabbed his silenced 9mm out of the case and stuck it in a hip holster, which he put on, and then walked back towards Harrington's desk with the case in hand.

"For God's sake, sir," Delta One said quietly to Harrington, "you don't need the gun."

He removed the forged TSIS ID his contact had secured for him, placed it on the desk, and slid it towards Harrington. "Special Agent Jack Woods, sir, from TSIS. Sir, we've got very good intelligence that says the Soviets are going to try to snatch you right off the Hill during a paradrop attack. Their planes are probably en route as we speak. I was tasked with getting you and your critical files out of here -- quietly. We think there might be people on the inside who tipped the Soviets off, so we need to keep the number of people who see you leaving, if any, to an absolute minimum. Can you do that for me, sir? I'm afraid we don't have much time."

Delta One's satellite phone vibrated urgently. He quickly scanned the screen -- it was a flash message from his Peregrine eyes-in-the-sky informing him that the Soviets had just initiated their paradrop and were closing rapidly on the Federal Legislature.

"Sir, the Soviets are closer than we thought. They'll be here any second if we don't hurry."

The fighting outside the Legislative building started as soon as the Soviets touched the cold ground, the Mollusks opened fire on the battallion, killing several men and wounding more, while the rest scrambled for cover.

As soon as the landing was cleared, the paratroopers started fighting back, heavily armed and armoured, they began targeting Trivalvian stronghold with a variety of weapons ranging from missiles to high-caliber rifles, capable of tearing a man in two, if the right spot was hit.

Soon, they'd be inside their objective, and this time, they'd be the ones defending the place.

[OOC: great posts, Halbergardia, Naasha, TWSP! I got chills reading them :D ]



[I]The Legislature

Harrington nodded. "It had to be that aide of mine. The man was always a coward..." He paused. "Yet, General Pelletier has not yet reported on the battle. I can't just abandon this place. Not yet."

The door opened and a soldier entered. "Sorry to interrupt you, sir, but we have a situation--"

Harrington nodded. His head seemed clearer now. "I know. Agent Woods here was bringing me up to speed on the Soviet air assault. What is the situation outside?"

The soldier blinked. "We're holding ground, but the Soviet forces are wearing down our numbers. We may have to move you to a safer place. However, sir, I also have to report about a security-"

Harrington cut him off. "I suppose there's nothing for it," he told "Agent Woods". "The government must survive. I'll have to contact Pelletier once we're relocated. I trust you have a suitable safehouse in mind? Good."

He turned to his desk. "However, I still have some unfinished business here. Mr. Woods, if you could wait for a moment, there are some crucial files I need to bring with me." He began to extract disks and papers from a drawer, his shaking hands betraying the fear he was trying to hide.

One disk fell out of his hand onto the floor, it's label - "ORACLE" - facing upward.

[OOC: I'll have to compose responses on the various frontline battles and the naval battle later today]

[OOC: great posts, Halbergardia, Naasha, TWSP! I got chills reading them :D ]



[I]The Legislature

Harrington nodded. "It had to be that aide of mine. The man was always a coward..." He paused. "Yet, General Pelletier has not yet reported on the battle. I can't just abandon this place. Not yet."

The door opened and a soldier entered. "Sorry to interrupt you, sir, but we have a situation--"

Harrington nodded. His head seemed clearer now. "I know. Agent Woods here was bringing me up to speed on the Soviet air assault. What is the situation outside?"

The soldier blinked. "We're holding ground, but the Soviet forces are wearing down our numbers. We may have to move you to a safer place. However, sir, I also have to report about a security-"

Harrington cut him off. "I suppose there's nothing for it," he told "Agent Woods". "The government must survive. I'll have to contact Pelletier once we're relocated. I trust you have a suitable safehouse in mind? Good."

He turned to his desk. "However, I still have some unfinished business here. Mr. Woods, if you could wait for a moment, there are some crucial files I need to bring with me." He began to extract disks and papers from a drawer, his shaking hands betraying the fear he was trying to hide.

One disk fell out of his hand onto the floor, it's label - "ORACLE" - facing upward.

[OOC: I'll have to compose responses on the various frontline battles and the naval battle later today]

Delta One nodded. He turned to face the soldier.

"Son, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to wait outside. The boys outside could probably use a hand securing the perimeter. Can I trust you to keep quiet about what's going on here? We can't afford for the Soviets to find out."

The soldier looked unhappy at being dismissed, but only hesitated for a moment before nodding in acknowledgment, spinning on his heel, and walking back out.

"My apologies, sir," Delta One said to Harrington, "but like I said, we're trying to keep this plan quiet.

"There's a small high-speed hydrofoil waiting down at the docks near the industrial zone, sir. We've got a pilot waiting for us there. We just need to get down to the docks in one piece, and he'll get us out to sea. We can link up with some of our naval vessels after that, so you can continue to command your forces. Or, if things get really desperate, you'll have suitable firepower to ensure safe passage out of the country. Either way, we can't stay in the capitol for long. I'm sorry it's come to this, sir."

As Harrington collected his files, Delta One knelt to pick up the ORACLE disc and quietly pocketed it while Harrington wasn't looking. He also powered Harrington's computer down, turned the tower around so he was looking at its back, then pried open one of the tower doors. He quickly spotted the pair of hard drives inside, and disconnected them. He closed the tower back up and held the two hard drives up for Harrington to see.

"Just to make sure we've got everything you need, sir," he said to Harrington, justifying his action, "and to ensure nothing falls into enemy hands if they breach your office. We can hook them up to another rig at the rendezvous location and you'll be up and running again."

He began to look around the room, studying it for escape routes. He couldn't afford to go back out the front doors, since the Molluscs would undoubtedly ask too many questions and generally make his life difficult. While Harrington might convince them to stay hands-off, it could raise suspicions. But, unfortunately, there weren't many other options -- there was really only the massive floor-to-ceiling window behind Harrington's desk.

He glanced at Harrington. He seemed to be almost done with gathering the last of his paper files. Delta One pulled the silenced 9mm out of its holster and put three rounds through the large center pane of the window. The bullets put some holes and spidery cracks in the pane, but still held up -- until Delta One's booted foot smashed right through the weakened area. The glass shattered outward onto the grassy hillside, where Delta One could see several cars parked by the curb on the street below, gleaming eerily in the unnaturally orangish-yellow light of the streetlights.

"We'd better go," he said urgently. "Someone will have heard that."

Naval Battle:

As Grant asked for IDs on the ships, Carter motioned to one of her officers; the lieutenant busied himself with a computer, bringing up the needed information and feeding it via secure link to the Naashans.

Carter looked at the map again. Noting the positions of the Dauntlesses, she also noted the position of both Longswords under her command with respect to the Indominitable. "Patch Vice-Admiral Everett into this call," she told the officer at Signals. "Just a second, Admiral Grant... Admiral Everett, have you been keeping up?"

"Yes, Admiral. I take it you have a suggestion?"

"Yes. Grant, Everett, I think between your Dauntlesses and our Longswords we might be able to encircle and either disable or sink the Indomitable. The armour on the Longswords should be enough to withstand a hit from the Indomitable's main guns -" though she hoped never to test that theory "- and the Bivalviaton is in prime position to draw their fire."

"Admiral?" Everett sounded worried. "With respect, that could be a suicide run."

"Not if we play our cards right. Of course, Admiral Levitt might not take the bait, or he might start firing on any one of our ships. But no matter how accurate their FCS is, it can't possibly target more than one ship at a time. He can't get all of us.

"Our escorts at least will not be able to withstand direct fire from a battleship, so I'll have them pull back and form a cordon outside the Indomitable's firing range. That should keep their escorts from escaping."

"Yes, Admiral. We'll make it happen," Everett didn't sound convinced, but he wouldn't balk. For now, it was the best plan on the table.

TNS Indomitable:

Levitt frowned. "What do you mean you can't get a shooting solution? The 406mm guns should have a range of close to 40 kilometers!"

The captain shrugged. "Yes sir, but that's extreme range, and the Hitman loses accuracy outside of 30 kilometers. Even shots at 25 kilometers have a one in fifty chance of missing."

Levitt considered that. The Indomitable did not have limitless munitions, and if the battle at Trivalviapolis was shaping the way he expected, they would not get any resupply. Every shot fired here meant one less shell he could use to destroy Bivalviaton.

"Sir?" It was the officer at the radar map. "We have incoming Naashan planes. Should we engage?"

The Admiral greeted that remark with a sneer. "Of course engage!"

"Yes sir. Also, we have some movement. Enemy capital ships are dispersing."

"Dispersing?" Levitt stormed to the radar map, then saw what the officer meant. "Hm. So they plan to encircle us, hm? Fine! Captain, order the fleet to advance."

"Sir? Advance to where?"

"We're going to break through their lines. Everett's a coward by nature, so the only dangerous officer is... Proceed at top speed towards the Bivalviaton. Let's relieve Admiral Carter of her post.

"Continue targetting enemy escorts - nearest ships, whether Trivalvian or Naashan."

As the Nationalist fleet responded to his command, hatches opened in the VLS launchers on the frigates and cruisers. In short order, salvoes of ESSMs pierced the air, 15 missiles per salvo, seeking the Naashan planes.

Nationalist Field Command, Trivalviapolis.

It was falling apart. Pelletier wilted as reports came in; the Southern Front was collapsing. Northern and Eastern fronts were crumbling, though they still held. So far only the Eastern Front looked like it might hold the longest - civilian populations in the area were forcing the enemy to pull their punches.

And now a report from the elite 1st Battalion indicated the Legislature itself was under attack.

"Tell the men to stand their ground," he told his subordinates. "I'll see if I can free up some forces to support the 1st Battalion."

Yet no forces could be spared. Every trooper that was under the Nationalist banner was here, and every one was engaged with the enemy. If he pulled troops from one area, the enemy would break through.

He could not bring himself to consider surrender - he was a man of honour, and would perform his duty until death. But he began to wonder if he would still be alive tomorrow.

Northern Front:

The area here had not been so good for trenches, so the Nationalist forces were a little more mobile. Yet, faced with the onslaught of Soviet and Free Trivalvian tanks and APCs, they had only one direction to go - and that was toward the city. Gradually, they fell back, each kilometer they held was bought with the blood of a hundred of their number; each kilometer they yielded cost them vehicles and weapons.

The combined assault gradually forced them to - and past - the last military bases under Nationalist command. Here, companies of Free Trivalvian mechanized infantry drove their APCs into the bases to secure them, one company per base, while the remaining allied forces continued to press the assault.

A few Nationalist soldiers began to commit suicide attacks, ranging from charging at tanks with their assualt rifles blazing, to hiding in culverts with several grenades until an enemy tank passed by or over them - then setting the grenades, killing themselves and damaging the tank.

Eastern Front:

Some images can define a conflict - or change it - more than anything else. The single man standing defiantly in front of a tank in Tiennamin Square. The horrific images that came out of Abu Ghirab.

Colonel Gillis was witness to another such image.

His forces were still a few kilometers north of the tank battle. Nationalist forces in this village were infantry only, and they were breaking under their assault, running from his APCs and infantry. As they pursued, Gillis took a moment to order a tank company south to support the Naashan platoon that had been trapped.

The running battle took them into the city proper - the farthest in that any forces on the Eastern front had penetrated - and passed by a school. Gillis saw small faces peering out of windows at the soldiers in the street.

There were children in a battleground. The area had not been evacuated. "Watch your fire," he radioed to his men, "We've got noncoms in the area."

The Nationalists had also seen the children. They had taken refuge behind some mailboxes beside the school, but Gillis caught sight of one soldier's face - he had been staring at the window, his face white as a sheet. Maybe they'll surrender?

What happened next would replay in Gillis' mind for the rest of his life.

He never learned where the RPG came from - perhaps a stray shot from another fight behind them, perhaps a panicked shot from one of his own men. But he watched, horrified, as the rocket plowed into the school.

Bricks and glass flew everywhere as the explosion brought down one wall of the school. Gillis heard a scream. His own.

"Cease fire, CEASE FIRE!" He yelled into his headset. Oh God, no...

Gillis found himself outside the APC and running. "Get medics and combat engineers!" he yelled over his shoulder. Part of his mind was protesting the action - he was a target now, a Nationalist only had to shoot him and this part of the command chain was gone...

But that didn't matter. He could see two bodies, very still, near the rubble, and a third, trapped under the ruins, still moving. Then he was at the ruined school, desperately trying to free the injured child from the debris.

Someone joined him, attempting to brace some of the ruins to prevent a collapse. Others arrived, many hands clawing at the rubble, tossing bricks aside. In moments, the child was free. A medic arrived, and began to examine her, his face grim - she might not survive.

"I can see more!" said a voice. The work continued. Combat engineers arrived, overseeing the operation to insure the rest of the structure did not collapse.

Only when Gillis was certain every child was out of the structure did he take the time to notice those who had helped him. He looked at the soldier nearest him... and recognized the Nationalist he had seen earlier. As he looked around, he saw other Nationalist soldiers, practically the whole section he had pursued here. They had abandoned their guns by the street and had joined them in the ad-hoc rescue effort.

Gillis was not the only witness. A civilian with a camcorder in a nearby building had recorded the entire altercation. The recording was online in minutes, with the caption "United in Tragedy."

Northern Front,
Nearing the Legislative Building

The advance had been, so far, smooh, very smooth, Nationalist's attacks were minimum and casualties were still at zero, though a few men had been wounded, the same could not be said for the other side, as bodies and, well, pieces of bodies lay scattered in the streets, someone would have to take them and bury them, after the battle war over.

Still, suicidal attacks delayed the final attack, as sometimes a tank who's track had been destroyed could bottleneck an entire street, thus forcing the armour through other roads.

Legislative Building

The mollusks had been putting an amazing and strong resistance so far, the paratroopers had been repelled two times now, and the front of once glorious palace was but ancient ruins now, riddle with bullets, holes all over it due to the amount of missiles going back and forth between the paras and the Nationalists.

It looked like the official estimates about the defensive positions had been underestimated, and the attack was stalling... still, the tanks werent that far away.

Southern Front:

"That's it," Wellington said, as the last reports filtered in. "I'd say we've got this front contained."

The past two hours had seen fierce fighting as the last Nationalist battalions fought to break out of the Antigran-Free Trivalvian enclosure. Antigran forces had broken through the Nationalist troops that had tried to flank the attackers, and now reinforced the forces that had bottled up the other Nationalists in the south.

This was not without cost, however. Six hundred Trivalvian soldiers died to keep the Nationalists bottled up, and eighty tanks had been lost. The Antigrans had fared better - two hundred dead, mostly from the forest firefight between them and the Nationalist reserve units. But the Nationalists lost more. 1,100 Nationalists were dead, another 300 wounded. And those who had not fled into the city had finally surrendered, and were in the process of being disarmed and detained.

Costly, but with one front gone, the allied troops would have an easier time of securing the city.

The Antigran force was now divided in two - three battalions were sent along with the last Trivalvian tank regiment to strike the Nationalist eastern front from behind. The rest of the forces began to advance north, to the Legislature.

The Legislature:

Colonel Warhol, commanding officer of the elite 1st Battalion, grimaced as he continued to lose soldiers against the Soviet attack. The reports he recieved showed they were dishing out as much punishment as they were taking, but the "Screaming Molluscs" were at a disadvantage. The Soviets had the advantage of mobility; the 1st Battalion didn't.

He turned to his second-in-command. "Get ready to move the President. We'll have to withdraw before enemy reinforcements arrive. I'll let the General know what's happening."

The lieutenant-colonel talked into his minder, then paused as he listened to his reply. "TSIS is already on it. They sent an agent Jack Woods to remove the President to a safer location."

"What? Since when did TSIS get involved?" Warhol fumed. "Get TSIS HQ on the line; let them know my personal dislike for them operating without informing us."

"Yes sir."

A soldier arrived. "Sir? Our interior patrols have all reported in - we're missing a technician. He was supposed to be in the basement, but he never returned."

Before Warhol could reply, the lieutenant-colonel spoke up. "TSIS HQ denies sending anyone to extract the President - the only 'Jack Woods' in their employ vanished two days ago."

Warhol cursed, and ran down to Harrington's office. "Open that door!" he ordered the guards there. They obeyed, and Warhol led them inside, his pistol at the ready.

One window was broken; shards of glass all over the grass outside. The office was empty.

[OOC: Trivalvia, Delta One killed the nameless technician; his body is floating among all the other sewage down in the tunnels. Obviously, he'll probably pop up somewhere and hit the radar screen eventually, but Delta One's gamble was that it'd be long after he was done with this job. You may want to edit your post accordingly. Apologies for the lack of IC content here, but I'll have something up soon.]

[OOC: My post has been edited - thanks for pointing out the error. It appears my own capacity for keeping details straight needs improving. Apologies to everyone for my mistakes.]

[OOC: Hey, no worries. I just wanted to make sure it didn't cause any problems farther down the line. I know you've had a lot to keep track of for this RP -- especially from me! At any rate, I don't know if you wanted RP any sort of pursuit/car chase through the city, but I left it off midway through so you can if you want to; otherwise, I'll finish up the extraction in another post.]

Downtown Trivalviapolis, Trivalvia, 2147 Local Time

The sleek black Mercedes-Benz SL65 AMG convertible came to life with a satisfyingly powerful growl as Delta One jerry-rigged the last two wires from under the steering column together. He'd spotted this beauty of a car from the Hill even before he'd hit Harrington's office, and he knew he'd have to make it a backup plan for exfil. Always hotwire the nicest car you can find if your primary extraction plan is FUBAR. He quickly popped the trunk, ran around to the back of the car, and tossed his case along the two hard drives and Harrington's box of files into the small space. He jumped back into the driver's seat and grinned at the slightly nervous-looking Harrington in the seat next to him.

"I've driven one of these before," he said with the enthusiasm of a small child opening presents on Christmas Day, "and let me tell you, they're a lot of fun."

He cranked the wheel to the left and slowly accelerated off the curb, throwing a look up the Hill at the broken window high above to check for pursuit. He thought he saw movement. Shit.

As soon as the SL65 cleared the car in front of it, Delta One slammed his foot down on the accelerator. The SL65's 5.98-liter, 604-horsepower V12 biturbo engine roared to life as the car shot down the straightaway. Delta One quickly upshifted as the car quickly revved up towards 4,000 RPM. With the car's massive engine giving him 738 lb-ft of torque at this point, Delta One was fairly certain he could outrun any pursuit -- provided no one started shooting at him. He needed to get off this damned road, though, and out of sight of the Hill as quickly as possible; the movement he'd seen meant he had to assume his ruse had been discovered.

He tore around the corner onto the road that fronted the western side of the Hill doing about 90, the tires howling in protest as he slammed the gear into fifth. His left turn to start taking him out to the industrial zone where his hydrofoil was waiting was approaching rapidly, and the street itself was narrow; even though it was late at night and there was virtually no traffic, the kind of wide turn he'd pulled wouldn't work a second time. He pulled the car away from the turn, then rapidly spun the wheel back towards it, yanking the handbrake up as he did so. The rear end of the car seemed to float off the road as the rear wheels locked and lost their traction. The noise was deafening: the roar of the V12's brute force keeping the car through this half-controlled fishtail, the even-louder howl of the tires as the car's driver forced them to do things they weren't ever meant to do, the blare of the uptempo techno that Delta One had somehow failed to notice before coming from the expensive sound system. The curb and the plate-glass windows of an old-fashioned brick-and-mortar boutique shop was rapidly approaching on the right -- he had to act now. He slammed the e-brake back down and hit the accelerator hard. The car's rear wheels re-engaged with the road and it pulled out of its near-crash, cornering around the bend just short of the curb.

Delta One glanced at the speedometer -- 120. He'd only be going faster as he neared the docks. He looked over at a very pale and very frightened-looking Harrington. "They call that one 'the Scandinavian flick'," he said with a grin on his face.

Okay, back for a few minutes.

No time for a proper IC, but let's say we're making as much ground as Trivalvia said. About 200 dead is fairly realistic, I'd say.

Trivalviapolis:

Harrington looked back at "Woods" then shut his eyes, his clammy hands clutching his seatbelt. From leader of eight hundred million to a fugitive in a high-speed chase from some 'B' movie. Demeaning, but at least he was alive, and free.

The pain was returning. But there were no painkillers with him, and he dare not say anything to "Woods"... any sign of weakness might get the agent to turn him in.

Do not show weakness... Hold it in... or everything falls apart... The thoughts circled in his mind, crowding out all other considerations.

Nationalist Field Command:

The news robbed Pelletier of his remaining strength. The President... abducted?

They had a full battalion of their finest soldiers present, guarding all entry points, and one man - one man! - slips through them and takes the only person they were fighting for? The colonel had promised to do everything in their power to rescue the President, or die trying.

Pelletier had granted permission - by now the "Screaming Molluscs" would be breaking off from the Soviet assault, and taking to the streets - but he did not expect the troops to succeed.

"General?"

Pelletier looked at the soldier standing near him. "Sir? The northern front is starting to collapse. Most of our officers there are dead, and troops are starting to lose discipline."

Which left only the eastern front still intact, and that would not last for long. After that, it would be bitter urban fighting all the way through the city. News of the school incident had reached Pelletier, and while he was confident he could pin that on the Free Forces, he was not sure any further incidents would not happen.

Pelletier said, "Have all troops still in contact with us fall back here. If Colonel Finnegan is still alive, he will be in command when he gets here."

"Sir?" The soldier looked concerned.

"You have your orders." Pelletier dismissed him, then retreated to the small tent that was his "field office".

* * *

The soldier had finished relaying instructions to the officers still on the front and was walking back to the tent to report to the General when he heard the gunshot.

The shot had come from the General's tent... the soldier broke into a run, reaching the tent, stepping inside... and stepped back, his face a portrait of horror.

Alone in his tent, General Pelletier had written a small note, then drew his pistol and shot himself through the temple.

[OOC: patiently waiting for Naasha and TWSP...]

OOC: Just got back from some holidays, post coming soon.

[OOC: Post coming tomorrow, as I lack the energy tonight. I'm still waiting on the Nationalist response to my fighters in the naval battle I think.]

Naval Battle:

TNS Indomitable:

Levitt frowned. "What do you mean you can't get a shooting solution? The 406mm guns should have a range of close to 40 kilometers!"

The captain shrugged. "Yes sir, but that's extreme range, and the Hitman loses accuracy outside of 30 kilometers. Even shots at 25 kilometers have a one in fifty chance of missing."

Levitt considered that. The Indomitable did not have limitless munitions, and if the battle at Trivalviapolis was shaping the way he expected, they would not get any resupply. Every shot fired here meant one less shell he could use to destroy Bivalviaton.

"Sir?" It was the officer at the radar map. "We have incoming Naashan planes. Should we engage?"

The Admiral greeted that remark with a sneer. "Of course engage!"

"Yes sir. Also, we have some movement. Enemy capital ships are dispersing."

"Dispersing?" Levitt stormed to the radar map, then saw what the officer meant. "Hm. So they plan to encircle us, hm? Fine! Captain, order the fleet to advance."

"Sir? Advance to where?"

"We're going to break through their lines. Everett's a coward by nature, so the only dangerous officer is... Proceed at top speed towards the Bivalviaton. Let's relieve Admiral Carter of her post.

"Continue targetting enemy escorts - nearest ships, whether Trivalvian or Naashan."

As the Nationalist fleet responded to his command, hatches opened in the VLS launchers on the frigates and cruisers. In short order, salvoes of ESSMs pierced the air, 15 missiles per salvo, seeking the Naashan planes.


[OOC: To my knowledge, your planes had not yet opened fire, though feel free to correct me. Oh, and welcome back, TWSP - I was not aware you had gone.]

[OOC: Sorry, must have missed that post. Land battle post to come later.]

Naval Battle

Aboard his F-18E, Lieutenant Weller glared at the range to target readings on his FCC, willing his plane and the rest of his squadron into striking distance of the enemy ships before they opened fire.

Launch, launch...

His radar warning receiver quickly dispelled that hope and he pulled his aircraft away from the missiles to run parallel with the Nationalist fleet. A combination of maneouver, chaff and heavy ECM quickly rid him of the missile threat, but he already saw the chutes of two other pilots who hadn't been so lucky. He keyed in the Guard channel on his radio and pressed the transmit switch.

"Striker flight, this is lead. Continue inbound and engage the surface contacts at will." Another launch warning interrupted his broadcast and he cursed, off-air of course. "Lead is engaged defensive..."

***

Meanwhile, above the mass of strike aircraft, a further flight of ten Super Hornets watched the enemy launch activity carefully, picking out the most dangerous ships to target. The flight leaders voice came across the radio, drawing his pilots attention away from their targeting displays for a moment.

"I count two salvoes away, we'll stop them launching a third. Angel flight, engage radiating contacts."

Ten calls of 'Magnum' echoed in response and ten HARM missiles hurtled seawards, accelerating to their top speed of 2,280 km/h, each aimed at a targeting radar aboard the Nationalist ships. A second salvoe would hit any still-radiating radars and so on until the flight was shot down or the enemy was completely blind.

***

"There go the HARM's, no better time than now!"

Lieutenant Weller hit the afterburner and dropped his jet closer to the waves, ripple launching his four Harpoon missiles at the Indomitable. The rest of the flight followed, launching a further four missiles at the enemy flagship and seventy two more at the various escorts.

[OOC: Well, the quoted section *was* buried in a post where I tried to tackle 4-5 different areas at once. Note to Self: never, ever, EVER, under any circumstances start an RP where I have to play both sides! ;) ]

TNS Indomitable

"Incoming missiles! All vessels are engaging CIWS."

Levitt watched as the ships in his fleet brought their Goalkeeper CIWS mounts to bear. There were a few explosions in the air, but the majority of the HARMs got through the cordon. Blasts erupted from just about every ship in the fleet.

Levitt bit down a curse. "Report!"

"We just lost radar on most of our escorts... 11 escorts report radar failure, no other damage..."

No sooner had the subordinate said that than more explosions joined them. Levitt watched as the ship closest to them - the cruiser Titania - suffered four simultaneous hits, the explosions throwing the ship itself into sharp relief.

"We're getting multiple hits - most of our CIWS systems were engaged with the HARMs..."

"Letting Harpoon anti-shipping missiles get through the cordon," Levitt snarled.

The Indomitable rocked, throwing Levitt and half the bridge crew to the floor. The ship's captain retained his footing, and he began to bark orders. "Damage report!"

"Two explosions, port side. We've lost our port 127mm cannon and both port-side CIWS."

The battleship rocked again. "More hits - reading breaches in the hull..." the lieutenant rattled off section numbers. "We're taking on water. Damage control teams are en-route." The floor tilted as the ship started to list.

Levitt got to his feet. He tasted blood. "Status on the fleet?!"

"Cruisers Titania and Ariel are sinking, sir. We've also lost..." the lieutenant read off ship names. "... in all, two-thirds of our fleet. Should I order our remaining ships to recover the crews?"

Levitt ignored the request. "Do we have a firing solution on the Bivalviaton?"

"Yes sir. Hitman has a solution for the bridge. And we have solutions for our own Harpoon launchers."

The Ship's captain looked up at Levitt from the damage reports on the screens. "Sir, we're in no shape to engage a battleship now."

"Duly noted, Captain. Fire!" Levitt's stare was like a man possessed. "FIRE!"

TNS Bivalviaton

Scattered cheers from the bridge crew as they saw the distant explosions.

Carter smiled and said to Signals. "Please tell Admiral Grant how impressed I am at his pilots' skill, and my thanks. After that, raise the Indomitable; let's see if they'll talk this time..."

A klaxon sounded as radar detected the approach of the Harpoon missiles. The Bivalviaton's own Goalkeepers swivelled to intercept...

And the six shells launched from the Indomitable's main guns hit the bridge.

Yvonne Carter was lifted off her feet, sent tumbling as the floor and walls around her became so much scrap metal. She didn't hear the screams... didn't hear anything at all, really; the blast had ruptured her eardrums.

Her last sight was of a steel spike looming large--

Her last sensation was that spike slicing through her neck.

TNS Resolute

Vice Admiral Everett saw the multiple explosions off the starboard side. "Good lord! What ship was that?"

Silence while officers conferred and radar was checked. A lieutenant spoke to the ship's captain, who paused before she spoke to Everett. "We just confirmed multiple Harpoon and shell strikes on the Bivalviaton. The ship is going down. Nearby ship reports suggest..." She gulped. "The bridge was the first thing hit - it is assumed no bridge crew survived."

Everett steadied himself at the command desk. "The crew?"

"No estimates. There were 9 harpoon hits all along the hull; I can't see anyone getting off before the ship sinks."

He closed his eyes.

"Admiral?"

The Admiral is gone...

"Admiral? The fleet's awaiting your orders."

Everett opened his eyes, and with a deep breath straightened and faced the bridge crew. "Status on the Indomitable?"

"Listing, but it still looks like they're trying to fight."

"Fine. Get a firing solution on the Indomitable. Send it to the bottom."

Trivalviapolis:

Harrington looked back at "Woods" then shut his eyes, his clammy hands clutching his seatbelt. From leader of eight hundred million to a fugitive in a high-speed chase from some 'B' movie. Demeaning, but at least he was alive, and free.

The pain was returning. But there were no painkillers with him, and he dare not say anything to "Woods"... any sign of weakness might get the agent to turn him in.

Do not show weakness... Hold it in... or everything falls apart... The thoughts circled in his mind, crowding out all other considerations.

Delta One shot Harrington another look as the car surpassed 150 MPH near the docks. He'd made some zigs and zags back and forth through the crowded and semi-navigable industrial zone to try and throw off any pursuit, but there had been no obvious attempt as such. Harrington looked haggard and almost like he was going to be ill. Still maintaining his cover, he asked in a concerned tone, "Mr. President? Are you alright, sir?"

He swerved onto the road that would take them to the docks and slammed on the brakes -- he needed all the stopping power he could get to prevent the car from screaming off the road into the water, or, worse, the hydrofoil. The Dietz-class hydrofoil (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=9479835&postcount=50) was dead ahead, its sleek curves glinting bright moonlight in the darkness. The imposing silhouette of the craft's rear-mounted 90mm gun stared them straight in the face as Delta One brought the SL65 to a swerving, screeching halt right in front of the dock. The HCIA agent on board stared at Delta One in disbelief. Delta One grabbed the items in the trunk, walked hurriedly past the HCIA man on the boat, saying as he did so, "We don't have much time."

The other agent nodded and walked out to Harrington, offering him help getting out of the seat and onto the boat. Harrington, who looked very pale in the moonlight, nodded slowly before making his way belowdecks into one of the hydrofoil's staterooms with the HCIA agent. Delta One walked back out to the car, debating what to do with it. He couldn't leave it behind for the Trivalvians to comb for evidence, and a part of him wanted to haul it back to Washington for his own personal or HCIA's use, he also knew that was impractical. HCIA could get whatever they wanted with relative ease, and his own personal fortune would not make procuring a similar vehicle difficult. No, he had to trash this beauty of a car. He looked back at the HCIA agent, who'd just returned from getting Harrington settled in. "Hey, you got any HE down there?"

The agent signaled he'd check, then went back down, only to emerge a minute later with a few blocks of what looked to be C4 in his hands. He tossed them to Delta One from the boat. Delta One molded a large piece to the engine block, another sizable chunk to the center of car's underbody, and a third piece to the outside of the car just over where the fuel tank was located. He then pressed blasting caps, which were tied to a remote detonation controller on the boat, into each of the three pieces. If he had had the time or the help, he would have rigged the car to drive into the ocean before he blew it up, but he knew he'd have to settle for the massive explosion to wipe away any traces instead. Just to be certain, however, he had the other HCIA man throw him two more C4 blocks, which he molded to the two seats. He set the blasting caps, then walked back to the dock, undid the casting lines, and manned the 90mm gun as the other agent walked up the short set of stairs leading to the captain's seat on the upper deck and started the boat's motor.

As the boat pulled away to a safe distance, Delta One reached for the remote detonator. He grabbed it securely in both hands, looked one last time back at the car, then jabbed the detonation button decisively with his thumb. The car was consumed in a bright flash of flame, the sound reverberating through the night air. When the explosion had cleared enough for Delta One to see its results, he was satisfied to see virtually nothing remaining of the car that had gotten him -- and his mark, the illegitimate President of Trivalvia -- to safety. The HCIA agent kicked the boat's throttle in, knowing that the explosion would draw attention, and began to get them up to speed to deploy the hydrofoil. They'd scream across the waves in excess of 50 knots to get clear of the city and any naval patrols before slowing to a more leisurely cruising speed to conserve fuel -- though they could remain foilborne for much of the voyage, if necessary. Delta One was glad to be clear of the capitol -- he just hoped he wouldn't have to use the Exocet missiles lying dormant in the box to his right, or the 90mm gun in front of him.

Naval battle

Aboard the NNS Jewel of the Deserts the crew in the operations room let out a collective groan as the display updated to show the stricken Bivalviaton.

"TNS Resolute reports the Bivalviaton is hit and sinking. The bridge was destroyed and Admiral Carter is presumed killed." The comms officer confirmed, placing his headset on top of his console. "Resolute is going after the Indomitable."

Lawrence Grant sighed, he'd gotten to like the Trivalvian admiral in the short time they'd been working together. "Fine. Order NNS White Sands to assist in sinking the Indomitable and any escorts who continue fighting. What's the status on our fighters?"

"Five aircraft hit, four reported ejects. All have activated their beacons and we're sending a SAR package to their locations. They've crippled the enemy AA capability and about two thirds of the escorts. Several hits on the Indomitable are reported."

"Recall them and launch a second wave of Super Hornets armed with Harpoons and HARM's. Tell them to fly high over the enemy and make their presence known, engage any enemy ship still seen to be firing. Dispatch F-14's to the locations of the downed pilots to fly RESCAP and deploy more to secure the immediate area." Admiral Grant stretched his arms over his head and frowned. "Oh, and send my condolences to Admiral Everett on the Resolute, Admiral Carter was a fine sailor and a true Trivalvian."

Eastern Front

Even as Redman's platoon were being encircled and pushed back into the centre of the Nationalist ambush, the rest of the combined Naashan and Trivalvian forces were making good ground. A combination of lethal air support and lightning dashes across the remaining open ground on which the Nationalists had chosen to make their stand were quickly beginning to unstick the defenders resolve.

***

Lieutenant Redman watched in horror as the tank swung its turret around and aimed for the building next to his, occupied he knew, by at least four of his men. The crash of its cannon signalled the deaths of four more loyal servicemen, pinned down in the brutal Nationalist trap. They were out of Javelin missiles and pinned down in the village buildings, which were being obliterated one by one by the ruthless tankers.

The screeching dive of an F-22, followed by the explosion of another tank on the village outskirts let him know that they weren't forgotten, but only two planes had been spared to help. Another explosion reached his ears, odd because even the best pilot would have trouble getting off two Mavericks on a pass like that. Then the tanks in the village square began to swing round, facing back the way they had come. The one nearest the entrance road shuddered backward as something bounced off its armour. Another tank appeared from around the corner, firing again and destroying it completely.

The arrival of the Free Trivalvian tanks had saved him at least, if not the twenty dead and sixteen others wounded amongst his platoon.

[OOC: Halbergardia - I doubt you'll have any issues getting to Bivalviaton now, so long as your hydrofoil stays clear of the naval battle occuring in the middle of the Trivalvian sea. Once the Indomitable is sunk, however, that battle will be over, and most likely the war.

Hey, we're almost done, guys!]

Trivalviapolis

Word of Pelletier's suicide and Harrington's disappearance spread through the city. The last forces on the Northern Front turned their retreat into a full rout. Some fled back to the command post to await whatever fate had in store for them, others attempted to vanish into the population, leaving uniforms and weapons behind.

The Eastern Front was now pushed up against the city proper. News of the "school tragedy" had filtered through Nationalist ranks, and the surviving commanders were loathe to commit another tragedy. When the news of Pelletier's suicide reached them, the battalion commanders discussed how to respond during a brief lull in the fighting; one wanted to charge the attackers, a second wanted to surrender. The remaining three voted to hold their ground, but requested a cease-fire. The request was transmitted to the Free Trivalvian forces.

Colonel (formerly Major) Finnegan returned from the Northern Front to the command post and found himself in the role of being the ranking officer for all surviving Nationalist troops...

* * *

"...We're down to maybe four battalions of infantry, all told, and tank forces are practically gone. A few tank units are still fighting on the Eastern Front, but..."

"Thank you, I've heard enough." Finnegan looked over the map with a sour expression. "Has there been any word about the President?"

"Lead patrols from the 1st Battalion reported an explosion by the docks - they found the remains of a car, and evidence that there was a boat moored nearby. They believe that the abductors got away clean, sir."

Finnegan wondered privately if it had been an abduction. He went over the battle records - Pelletier must have seen this battle would have been lost before it even started, and Harrington had to have known.

He wondered if Harrington had arranged for a quick getaway, perhaps faking an abduction to throw off suspicion until he was safely out of the country.

"Sir? Do you have any orders?"

Finnegan looked up at the young officer. "Orders? What kind of orders could I give?" He waved a hand, taking in the command tent and its demoralized staff, and, beyond, the broken troops of his new command.

He turned to the radio operator. "Open a line to General Wellington. Tell him..." Finnegan paused.

"Tell him I wish to discuss terms of surrender."

At some point, the tanks suddenly found little to no resistance, large masses of soldiers were surrendering, and even more were fleeing the battlefield.

This was a huge problem for logistics, as the main attack had to be held to allow MPs and troops to get the POWs behind their lines and manage the huge influx of both military personnel and civilians which flooded the streets in joy.

Fortunately, the Paras had reported a decrease in the firepower of the Mollusks, and then began their advance, as one, the whole company rose from their hideouts and charged at the enemy, which was by now, broken and fled. Soviets stormed the Legislative Building, practically trapping and systematically eliminating pockets of resistance with hand grenades and explosives.

Soon enough, they reached the roof, and the CO opened his back-pack, extracting a red package, which was tied to a pole and then lifted over the battlefield for all to see: The Soviets had triumphed.

http://unlabeled.files.wordpress.com/2006/08/yk_reichstag03.jpg
Bigger Picture (http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/f9/Reichstag_flag.jpg)

[OOC: Hehe, I think you may want to add a Trivalvian flag to that, we're supposed to be supporting the Free Trivalvians after all.]

[OOC: Hehe, I think you may want to add a Trivalvian flag to that, we're supposed to be supporting the Free Trivalvians after all.]

OOC: They can bring their own flags later =P

Central Trivalviapolis:

Wellington had made negotiations for surrender brief and to the point: surrender was to be complete. Amnesty would extend only to preserving the lives of the soldiers, legal matters would be decided later.

The new ranking officer for the Nationalists, Finnegan, had agreed - he saw no more point to the fighting, and was primarily concerned now with the lives of his men. Once it was assured their lives would be spared, he agreed to a full surrender.

Now, Wellington was proceeding to the Nationalist field command. On the way, he caught sight of the Legislature building, and a flash of red from its peak. Binoculars revealed the Soviet flag flying over the Legislature.

Wellington scowled. I am going to have to have words with General Andrets. "Contact Colonel Flynn and get him to secure the Legislature. And tell him to get our flag flying from the Legislature before some fool reporter sees that hammer and sickle," he told his aide in the APC.

He reached the Nationalist Command Post, and two more APCs arrived in short order. Soldiers poured out and secured the perimeter, although they kept their weapons down. "They're still our countrymen - they should surrender with at least some dignity," Wellington had told them.

He walked up to where Finnegan and his officers were standing. As a courtesy, they saluted each other. Finnegan said nothing, but handed his pistol to Wellington, who accepted it.

After radio messages confirmed that Nationalist soldiers on the eastern front were laying down their arms, Wellington nodded to one of his men, who unfurled a green flag and ran it up the flagpole next to the Trivalvian national flag. Wellington looked at the sight with some satisfaction.

Finnegan led Wellington to where General Pelletier lay - a soldier had laid the body out and covered it with a sheet. Wellington felt a mix of emotions at seeing his former subordinate dead. He supposed he should have saluted, or something, but he didn't. Perhaps he still had to sort out his thoughts on Pelletier's actions.

That can wait for later, though. He returned to the command tent. "Right," he told those gathered. "Have our troops start collecting weapons from forces that have surrendered. And get me a link with MacKenzie - time we ended this formally."

General Andrets was standing next to the flag, smiling proudly at the troops before him and scouting the city with his binoculars.

He noticed General Wellington's vehicles, and he witnessed a group of soldiers detach from the group and head for the Legislative Building, he turned over to his aide.

"Okay guys, you've had your fun, now take down that flag before the Trivalvians go berserk on us."

Someone pulled down the flag, carefully placing it inside a sealed box, it would be given as a gift to the Trivalvian War Museum when all this was over.

Still, there were more pressing matters, a complete searching of the building had been completed, and Harrington was nowhere to be seen. General Andrets was baffled as to what had happened, but he gave the order to grab any piece of vital information that could be found in the former president's office.

OOC: Any goodies I might find there?

[OOC: Probably not. Harrington and Delta One will have removed most material. You might find some light reading material on the bookshelves, maybe a bottle of wine... :D ]

Bivalvia Island, 0018 Local Time

The naval battle between Free Trivalvian and Nationalist forces had been raging for some time now -- Delta One had seen the massive muzzle flashes of the naval guns and missile explosions far off in the darkness. That had been approximately one hour ago; the lights of Bivalvia Island now gleamed ahead in the distance. They had been foilborne for much of the voyage, but they had long since decelerated to a more leisurely pace in order to conserve their last gallons of fuel, as well as to ensure the island's defenders didn't mistake the hydrofoil as a high-speed suicide attacker and open fire. After all, presumably only MacKenzie and Wellington knew of the rendition plot; the others would be baffled by the appearance of this odd vessel.

Delta One threw a look over his shoulder at the door that led to the staterooms belowdecks. Harrington had said he was feeling a bit ill and wanted to rest during the long sprint across the waves, and Delta One and his fellow agent had obliged. He'd hadn't emerged since, and Delta One was sure Harrington didn't have anything on him or access to anything that could allow him to contact the Nationalists or hurt himself.

Little did he know he was in for a terrible surprise.

Delta One pulled out his satellite phone and dialed in to the secure drop box his superiors had set up for this op. "0018 local time. The package and its contents are secure. We are awaiting confirmation of delivery. Estimated time to confirmation is less than one hour. We are still green across the board for assets and cover and expect to extract within the next twelve hours. Further notification will be sent at time of exfil. Out."

He closed the connection and dialed the secure line to MacKenzie's office. "Will, it's Nevil. I have a package for you I think you need to see. I need you to arrange for the path from the docks to your office be clear of all other personnel -- this is for your eyes only. We're nearing the docks. Give me a call back a-sap. Thanks."

After closing that connection, Delta One gestured for the HCIA agent to come with him belowdecks. The agent came down and looked at him expectantly. "It's time," Delta One said to him. "Let's bag this bastard."

The other man smiled coldly. "I've been waiting all night to hear those words."

They proceeded into the narrow hallway quietly; the HCIA agent headed towards Harrington's room, the one closest to the bow on the port side of the vessel. Further to the fore on the starboard side was a small kitchenette and dining area. Delta One grabbed from a cabinet a black cloth bag and a set of large headphones that were designed to keep the wearer from hearing anything short of a large nearby explosion, then assumed a position in the fore end of the hallway. He heard the HCIA agent waking Harrington up and quietly conversing with him, then footsteps. The HCIA agent led him out of the room and towards the aft of the ship, carefully guiding him to prevent him from seeing Delta One waiting just a few yards behind him.

Harrington had taken only a few steps into the hallway towards fresh air when his vision was suddenly taken from him. He was being handled roughly, he smelled burlap, and then he felt something large and heavy go over his head and ears, and he was suddenly deaf, as well.

Delta One hauled him roughly out to the aft deck of the boat, then pushed him to the ground, grabbed his arms and placed both his hands behind his back, and tied his wrists tightly with a pair of plasticuffs, making sure to leave just enough flexibility to allow circulation to Harrington's hands. He drew his silenced 9mm and pointed it down directly towards the back of Harrington's head, pressing a booted foot down firmly on the small of Harrington's back as he did so. The other HCIA agent had resumed his position at the ship's controls and was beginning to bring them into port. After setting their course and further reducing speed to allow MacKenzie more time to allow for the security needed for Delta One to haul Harrington to MacKenzie's office, the HCIA agent began copying Harrington's paper and electronic files as rapidly as he could; the information would be stored for future reference in HCIA's archives. Delta One simply kept his eyes on the prize right in front of him as he anxiously waited to bring this son of a bitch before his virtuous adversary.

This was going to be a hell of an event.

The Antigran forces were encountering no resistance as they made their way towards the federal legislature, the news of the surrender had got through to the troops.
This raised morale considerably, and General Franklin decided a little bit of Antigran Tradition was in order.

A Blue and A White flare soared into the sky, the traditional signal of an Antigran Advance, as the soldiers mounted up on vehicles and headed for the legislature.
It was a proud sight, to say the least - A convoy of trucks and tanks and just about everything else, with the Antigran Flag flying at the head of the column, troops cheering.
Major Hendley was riding at the head of the column. As he neared the legislature, he saw the flags flying and the allies' soldiers rushing about and doing all the victory stuff.

"Did we miss something?!" He yelled into the crowd. The convoy grounded to a halt and the infantry dismounted, running in to join the celebrations.
The Major raised the flag from the lead tank and waved it. What the hell, he figured. It's our victory too.

[OOC: brief message before I go back to work - I'm planning to wrap up the naval battle today: Naasha if you wanted to get your last shots in on the Indomitable go right ahead, and I'll RP its sinking. After that, it's one last post from me and we're in Epilogue country!

Also, if any of you wanted to give overall comments on how this RP was performed - and how future RPs could be improved - head on over to the OOC Thread and voice your opinions.]

TNS Indomitable

Levitt grinned at the report of the Bivalviaton's demise. "Outstanding," he said. He turned to the ship's captain. "What is our status? Can we continue to fight?"

The ship's captain frowned and shook his head. "We're still having trouble containing the breaches in our hull - damage control teams can't get to some of the breaches. And with half of our CIWS mounts gone, we're open to enemy missiles."

Levitt grumbled. "But we still have our main cannons and the Hitman system."

"The enemy fleet is spreading out - escorts are remaining outside our weapons range, but we'll be enclosed before long. Our escorts might be able to break through one point but..."

"Fine. Cluster our last escorts around us to hold out against enemy aircraft, and let's start to clear out those Naashan battleships..."

The ship rocked as shells hit it.

"Enemy fire!" The ship's captain hovered over the tracking workstation. "It's the Resolute. We've lost our bow starboard 127mm cannon."

"Hell of a time for Everett to grow a backbone," Levitt said. "Can we target?"

"Bow turret only."

"Target him! Bridge if you can manage it, weapons if you can't!"

The ship's captain paused, but gave the order. "Get me a targetting solution on the Resolute," he said, "and order all nonessential hands to the lifeboats." The Naashan vessels were now in weapons range... another volley and the Indomitable would sink.

...and sink the Indomitable would.

The NNS White Sands shuddered slightly as her three turrets swung around to face the crippled Trivalvian battleship. The Dauntless Class Battleship, although purchased from Pudite Military Arms, had undergone substantial refitting and upgrades in Surdun and the captain was confident in the ability of his ship and his crew to put an end to the battle.

Once a targeting solution was acquired, an interesting proposition on a listing and crippled battleship, all nine 16-inch guns roared out in unison. Nine shells roared over the waves, all aimed to speed Indomitable's descent to the bottom.

TNS Indomitable:

Explosions ripped all along the port side of the battleship. On the bridge, panic ruled.

"We've lost aft Harpoon launchers, aft main turret. Radar took shrapnel, we can't get proper targetting... and the fire control room suffered an electrical short. The Hitman is down. And hull damage is significant, we're going down." The ship's captain was barely containing his rage as he faced Admiral Levitt. "Sir, we have to abandon ship."

Levitt didn't move.

"Sir, we have to abandon ship. Get to a lifeboat; you might have a chance to escape."

Levitt turned to face the captain. His face was a picture of madness.

"Escape? Escape? You coward, you yellow-bellied traitor--"

He's lost it. The captain nodded to one of the marines.

Levitt had drawn his pistol, and now aimed it at the captain. "You and everyone here will stay at their posts! We still have forward turrets and will keep figh- uhn!" He collapsed as the marine slid up behind him and calmly knocked him out with the butt of her rifle.

"Get him to a lifeboat," the captain ordered. He grabbed a microphone and paged shipwide. "All hands, this is the captain. Abandon ship. Repeat: abandon ship."

The captain remained behind - naval tradition. But as he made his way to the final lifeboat, a secondary explosion caused by fires reaching a munitions stockpile sent him overboard. He sank beneath the waves before rescuers could reach him.

* * *

Levitt awoke to find himself in a lifeboat, surrounded by a few sailors. As he looked around, he saw a frigate come alongside. The flag was green, and soldiers lined the side, their rifles pointed down.

Levitt himself was unarmed, his pistol left behind on the bridge of the Indomitable. Cursing his luck, he raised his arms, as did the sailors around him.

And on the bridge of the Resolute, Admiral Everett transmitted a message to the five surviving Nationalist escorts: "Your forces are outnumbered and outgunned, and your leader is in our custody. Surrender and prepare to be escorted to the nearest harbour."

The reply took only seconds: white flags rose on all five ships.

The fight was over.

* * *

Bivalviaton

MacKenzie decided to meet Clavain by the docks, and sent him a message to that effect. In short order, he, Samantha, and a squad of Bivalviaton Municipal Police were waiting at the designated pier. Two more squads of police and some reserve soldiers kept a cordon around the area.

The boat should be arriving shortly.

Bivalviaton Docks, Bivalvia Island, 0031 Local Time

"Looks like we've got a hell of a welcoming party set up for us, chief!" the HCIA agent yelled down to Delta One over the slowly-subsiding roar of the boat's engines.

Delta One scowled. This is far more attention than I would have liked.

"We'll just have to play this by ear," he yelled back. "We can haul his ass into the boat and have MacKenzie come aboard, keep the police out of our way."

"Sounds good to me," the other man yelled back. "I'm pulling us in now, so you may want to get him belowdecks."

But Delta One was already in motion, grabbing Harrington by the back of his shirt and hauling him back into the narrow hallway towards his stateroom. Delta One had just situated Harrington back in the room when he felt the boat slow drastically and turn wide. Up top, the HCIA agent surveyed the "welcoming party" in greater detail -- he could see numerous cop cars, lights flashing, a squad of police waiting at the docks, and more police and even soldiers cordoning off the perimeter, with more than a few curious souls hanging just outside the cordon. He could practically feel the Trivalvian police at the dock tense in anticipation as the boat came close. A couple of them moved to help secure the boat's lines, but the rest appeared to be ready to draw their guns and rush onto the boat -- and as the boat was secured and the HCIA man extended the ramp, they started to do just that. The agent calmly drew his pistol and fired a shot into the air. The police collectively froze for just a moment before pointing their weapons at him.

"I'm not going to shoot," he said in a loud but calm voice. "But we're only going to allow Mr. MacKenzie and two others of his choosing to board the boat for now. We have someone with our guest already. The rest of you will be allowed access in due time." He turned towards MacKenzie and holstered his weapon. "Mr. MacKenzie," he said less loudly but still calmly, "it's your show now."

MacKenzie turned to the Detective-Inspector in charge of the police and nodded. The D-I in turn said, "Lower your weapons," and the constables obeyed.

"Samantha, Detective-Inspector, if you'll join me?" MacKenzie walked toward the boat.

"There's no need for theatrics," he told Clavain - or whoever the man was, Samantha's own discreet inquiries had revealed nothing about the agent. "As far as we're concerned, this is little more than a transfer of custody. Your own involvement is secure."

Samantha nodded in agreement, and the Detective-Inspector said, "Mr. MacKenzie briefed me on the... unusual nature... of this arrest. I can't say I approve but I'm willing to go along with the terms he specified."

He cleared his throat. "Officially, this is a joint operation between the Ministry of Justice and elements of the Trivalvian Security and Intelligence Service. I appreciate the risks to your own career you took in securing Mr. Harrington; you've done your country a service."

"Clavain" still didn't seem convinced at the legal fiction. MacKenzie leaned forward and added, quietly. "This was the best I could do on such short notice... we were expecting you to just trap him in the Legislature for our own forces to apprehend. TSIS has been walking a fine line throughout this whole crisis, but I expect they'll play along when the dust settles." He stepped back. "So, if you could bring Harrington out, the Detective-Inspector can complete the arrest."

Even so, a little extra insurance wouldn't hurt. He said to the D-I, "It might be a good idea to disperse any onlookers."

"I agree," the D-I said. "You never know who might be carrying a gun." He relayed orders to the police maintaining the cordon, who in turn, began to disperse the people who arrived: "Okay, nothing more to see here, move along now..."

[OOC: I'm assuming MacKenzie was talking to the other HCIA agent on deck?]

The HCIA man gave MacKenzie a small grin. "Sorry 'bout the noise. Your cops are a little eager to get their hands on the former dictator, it would seem."

He listened to MacKenzie's words and shook his head slightly. "And I appreciate the thanks on risking my career and all that, but, hey, I just drove the damn boat. My colleague belowdecks was the one who risked his ass hauling our mutual friend offshore."

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the door behind him. "They're in there, and I think my colleague would prefer it if you went in, but I can get him to come out as long as there's no one around. You know, he hates the light and all that." He grinned and half-turned to yell in that direction. "Hey, boss, come on out!"

Inside, Delta One swore under his breath. They were supposed to come inside. Clearly, his fellow agent hadn't had much luck convincing them to make this a private affair. He shot a look out the porthole, scanning the cordon. The police were dispersing the bystanders, and most of them were gone. Though he didn't like the idea of bringing Harrington out into the open quite yet, he figured he didn't have much of a choice. He hauled Harrington up to his feet and yanked the headphones off his head. "Prepare to meet your fucking Maker, asshole," he growled in the man's ear before roughly shoving him back towards the door out onto the deck. As he emerged, he could vaguely sense the three Trivalvians' distaste at the hood and restraints -- but then again, what did they know about operational security?

He dropped Harrington to his knees before the three Trivalvians and ripped the black hood off Harrington's head. "Merry Christmas, sir," he said to his captive, his voice dripping with venomous sarcasm.

MacKenzie and Harrington stood there, MacKenzie's expression a mixture of sadness and anger, Harrington's one of rage and fear.

Before the Detective-Inspector could speak, MacKenzie stepped forward, looked Harrington in the eye, and said "Why?"

Harrington blinked. "What?"

"Why did you do it?" MacKenzie kept his voice steady. "Even before the two of us went into politics you always had some respect for due process. Because of that, I was willing to respect you. But now..." He paused, aware that if he continued he'd be shouting. "Why?" he asked again.

Harrington stepped forward, ignoring the others behind him. MacKenzie could see a blood vessel pulsing near his temple, see his face turning red.

"Why? Why?" Harrington sneered. "You naive, little man... you had no idea what you'd unleash. Introducing new technologies, forging alliances with communists, sticking our collective noses into the world's affairs. What did you think you could accomplish?"

"I was trying to make things better," MacKenzie said softly.

"Better?!" Harrington almost choked on the word. He's not looking well, MacKenzie realized.

"Better?" Harrington repeated. "You fool, you've doomed us all!"

MacKenzie frowned. "What?"

"I've seen it. The spiral of alliances breaking and forming, the growing wars, the final exchanges, the bombs falling, our homes burning! I read the Oracle file, I know what it says!"

"What Oracle file? What are talking about?" MacKenzie began to wonder if Harrington was even sane now.

Harrington wasn't listening. "I could read between the lines easily enough. It was clear to me; our country had to stay out of what was to come. I did everything I could, but you had to ruin it all! You called on your alliances, made us noticed again. And now it's going to fall apart... the bombs... the firestorm..."

He began to crumple to the ground.

"Tony?" MacKenzie was visibly concerned now.

"My head..." Harrington squeezed his eyes shut, gritted his teeth. "Pounding, like drums... the never ending drums... Painful... god, the pain..."

MacKenzie turned to the D-I. "We need an ambulance!" The D-I began to speak urgently into his minder, while MacKenzie knelt down by Harrington's shuddering body.

"It's okay. We'll get you to a hospital," he tried to assure Harrington. Dammit, I'm not letting it end like this...

Harrington was mumbling, a trickle of blood running down from his nose. "Can't let it... can't..." In a final moment of lucidity, he looked at MacKenzie, and the other saw the fear in his eyes. "Please, don't let it end, promise you won't let the bombs fall..."

MacKenzie still didn't understand, but nodded. "I promise."

"Thank y-you... you were always a good friend..." And with that, Harrington went limp.

In the distance, a siren announced the approaching ambulance.

* * *
Tony Harrington was introduced to St. Martha's Hospital, where doctors diagnosed him as having a cerebral hemmorage and rushed him into surgery. He survived the day but remained in a coma for several days after.

What finally emerged from the coma was not the man who existed before the coma. The doctors had been able to save his life, but not his mind. Large portions of Harrington's memory and personality were scrambled or gone. In the face of his condition, Harrington was deemed unfit for trial, and placed under medical care. Doctors were doubtful he could ever recover fully.

Harrington's collapse marked the end of the crisis. All that was left now was to pick up the pieces.

[OOC: epilogue post coming up.]

[OOC: Trivalvia, feel free to assume that Delta One turned the ORACLE disc he snagged after Harrington dropped it over to MacKenzie along with all the other files and the two hard drives. Do you mind if HCIA has a copy of all the files in storage back at HQ? They're not really gong to do anythng with them, except keep them on hold for possible future reference.]

Epilogue: And The Guns Fell Silent

MacKenzie's return to Trivalviapolis was a mixed event. Many cheered his return, but also many were quiet. Now that the crisis was over, people were starting to wonder about the price paid for their freedom.

The Speaker of the House, who had remained in hiding during the period of martial law, declared Harrington's government dissolved and appointed MacKenzie as acting President until an election could be held. Negotiations between MacKenzie and his Progressive Democratic Federal party and the now-leaderless Statist Conservatives set a date for the new election as July 15th, 2 months after Harrington had declared martial law.

MacKenzie issued a general amnesty for all enlisted soldiers, and conditional amnesty for all officers. Colonel Finnegan of the Nationalists and Colonel Gillis of the Free Forces were both brought up on charges related to their actions. For his part in the Dark Trivalvia operation, Finnegan was convicted of obeying a criminal order causing widespread death, and dishonourably discharged; he left the country and has not been seen since. Gillis was acquitted of the school tragedy, but voluntarily resigned. He is now a member of the Trivalvian chapter of Human Rights Watch.

Though there was no body to bury, Admiral Yvonne Carter was given a burial at sea, held aboard the TNS Resolute. There, General Wellington confirmed Vice-Admiral Everett's new position as Admiral of the Navy, and gave him the charter of rebuilding the Trivalvian naval forces. He has since been involved in this task, speaking with surviving ship captains on both sides on ways to improve the navy's effectiveness.

Admiral Levitt, being the only surviving member of Harrington's "inner circle", was charged and convicted of supporting an illegal government militarily and conspiracy to commit mass murder. He was sentenced on June 21st, 2009 to 50 years imprisonment with no parole. Before he was moved to a high-security prison, he was found dead in his cell. It is uncertain whether he took his own life.

General Wellington remained as commander of the Trivalvian military, and has been working reintegrating the divided force into a single cohesive whole. Among other reforms, he has started a campaign to introduce new safeguards and restrictions into the military command chain, in the hopes of preventing another division of the forces.

The Trivalvian Security and Intelligence Service did indeed support the legal fiction that "Delta One" and his compatriots were part of their service; their absence at later inquests was explained as a series of reassignments or resignations. TSIS officially declared the people involved as "retired", which meant their identities were still protected unless one chose to reveal himself or herself. At the same time, TSIS discreetly probed the mystery of Delta One/"Nevil Clavain". To this date their efforts have come to naught.

The 1st Battalion had suffered its first major dishonour since its formation, and many members of the "Screaming Mollusks" took advantage of the general amnesty to resign their commissions. Some have since resurfaced as mercenaries in various parts of the world. Those that remained formed an "Old Guard" company inside the 1st Battalion. The fighting standards of the 1st Battalion remain high, and the Trivalvian Ground Armed Forces still plan to employ them as an elite fighting unit.

In all, some 300,000 people, military and civilian, had died during the nine day crisis that was the Green Revolution. The cities of New Moncton and Mollusc City still had a military presence to protect against looters during the initial days of rebuilding. Some parts of the affected cities would take a year to rebuild.

One other casualty of the crisis was Trivalvia's information technology industry. While corporate giants like OrangeSoft survived intact, many smaller businesses in IT faltered or collapsed. The increase in domestic military contracts has made Arms Manufacturing a new major industry in the country, although the Trivalvian government maintains a strict control on weapons exports.

William MacKenzie was formally elected as Trivalvia's third President on July 15th, and he was sworn in one month later. He announced his intention to reopen ties with the rest of Nova Europa, and for his government to reaffirm their committments to the Nova Europa Alliance. "Our isolation is over," he declared.

Evidence of the existence of the "oracle file" surfaced in the various files and drives that Delta One had secured from Harrington's office. Privately concerned that Harrington's insanity might have had a grain of truth, MacKenzie has opened a quiet investigation into the oracle file. To this day, that investigation has revealed nothing, although MacKenzie's aide Samantha remains oddly apprehensive concerning the matter.

OOC Edit: Halbergardia, that's no problem. I should, however, explain what the Oracle File is and what's on it...

The Oracle File came from an unknown source, as a report of "thing to come". It had a list of when alliances would form and when they would break, and when and how widespread certain wars would be fought. How such a file came to be is a mystery, although the two most likely explanations are:
1) someone has developed a good way to simulate future political and military engagements (advanced simulations using supercomputers might make this a possibility, although assuming the existence of "laws of history" is a stretch).
2) someone is manipulating world events and the oracle file represents the planned timeline. This is the least likely explanation, although bound to give conspiracy theorists some sleepless nights.
3) the file was the product of Harrington's fevered imagination, but with Harrington himself out of the picture, it's hard to prove or disprove.
I introduced Oracle as a plot device for this RP and a possible plot device for future RPs, but, I would not have any issues if the Oracle file faded into obscurity and was never mentioned again. We'll just have to play it by ear, just in case some people might declare the Oracle file as a form of godmodding...

OOC:

Well, if you have read Asimov's "The Foundation" Series, you'll know there was this guy who could predict, well, future events using mathematics and very complex equations he had developed.

Of course, nothing was 100% certain, but using that and sociology to try and figure out how the masses would react (it's far easier to predict something based on a whole lot of people than just one, as ONE person is to umpredictable), he could plan the future 1000 years ahead of his own lifetime.

OOC: Yeah, although I was also thinking a little of Micheal F. Flynn's "In The Country of the Blind" and the science of "cliology" it introduced. A fun little tale, if a bit dated by now.

Anyway, this marks the end of the RP! Feel free to give your own IC wrapups or your OOC comments on what you thought of it.

And where's my hero party? :D

Seriously good thread, though. I'll reccomend you to everyone who asks.

I suppose I'll still have a military presence until about two weeks later when the last troops go home. Don't think I need to mount any security patrols for you, do I?

Honestly, I am sad to see this thread go.....You rarely find a thread with no quitters that is consistantly active, with good RP'ers and a good storyline. Thanks people, you've made my day.

While Naasha had been one of the first nations to offer and deploy military forces to the Trivalvian theatre, casualties were fortunately fairly light. Of the nearly 9000 men and women deployed to mainland Trivalvia, only 30 were killed, with another 40 wounded. The 33rd, 34th and 35th light infantry regiments played a role in the spearhead through the Trivalviapolis east front and the 1st desert rifles distinguished themselves in the defence of Sussex AFB. This light casualty rate, coupled with rage at the capture of an N1 television crew, ensured that public opinion on Naashan involvement in the Green Revolution remained positive throughout.

Winning particular distinction were the sailors and airmen operating with the Surdunni 6th Carrier Group, whose Admiral, Lawrence Grant, was able to face down the Trivalvian Quadrivalve Battlegroup and later play a part in the defeat of Admiral Levitt's taskforce. The Trivalvian cruisers Titania and Ariel, amongst others, were added to the Navy's kill list. The bragging rights for the 'kill' on the Indomitable would however be hotly contested between the Naashan battleship NNS White Sands, the Trivalvian battleship TNS Resolute and the F-18E's of the 6th Fleet Air Arm.

The Naashan armed forces learned distinct lessons in both operations, the loss of significant numbers of F-18E's to enemy naval AA highlighted the navy's requirement for a more modern fighter and the success of the HARM missile in blinding the ships would remain a favoured tactic amongst the mission planners of the Fleet Air Arm for a time to come. On land, the members of the 1st Platoon of the 33rd learnt a valuable lesson in bravery and sacrifice, and of the dangers of straying too far unsupported. The crews of both Bradley IFV's involved in the incident were awarded the Imperial Cross (1st. Class) and posthumous distinctions for their valiance.

The seriousness of Naashan military satellite and communications equipment falling into enemy hands was fortunately not fully realised, thanks to the brave efforts of Trivalvian forces and Alversian commandos. Still, the event turned a few heads and many communications outposts were checked and re-checked for security breaches while passcodes were changed. The oversight of the MOD in not removing the critical equipment when the base was vacated is beign adressed in an internal inquiry.

Despite the success of the military campaign, many amongst the governments upper echelons felt that the Prime Minister and the Foreign Ministry failed to make a satisfactory effort to address Harrington's initial takeover diplomatically. Critics claim that the failure highlights Naasha's lack of influence on Nova Europan affairs, but the Prime Minister has since argued that given Harrington's mental state, conflict could not have been avoided without compromising the rights of the Trivalvian people.

Naashan troops began their pullout three days after the Green Revolution ended, although MOD officials are optimistically predicting their return to NEAMC bases and facilities as Trivalvia returns to the wider continental community. In view of the destruction wreaked on the Trivalvian navy, the 5th Carrier Group has been deployed to conduct maritime sovereignty operations in Trivalvian waters for a few months to come.

Casualty figures

Naashan 1st Army
33rd Light Regiment - 13 KIA, 21 WIA
34th Light Regiment - 4 KIA, 7 WIA
35th Light Regiment - 5 KIA, 4 WIA
1st Airborne Regiment - 0 KIA, 1 WIA
1st Desert Rifles - 8 KIA, 7 WIA

6th Carrier Group (Surdun)
NNS Jewel of the Deserts - 5 F-18E shot down, 1 KIA, 4 RS.
NNS Oasis - 3 F-18E shot down, 1 F-14 crashed (mechanical failure), 1 KIA, 1 WIA, 2 RS.