NationStates Jolt Archive

Imperial War Palace
Fedala, Imperial Provence

Field Marshal Ledan Tar'híek looked at Fedor I as his Majesty spoke to the crowd of general officers in the large well decorated room. Behind the Emperor, aptly placed was a map of the continental Empire itself. In blood red were marked the territories of Northern Safehaven, Lower Sidi Rezegh and the Semi-Autonomous Territories of Guffingford. All of them conquered territories which these men arrayed this fateful day had helped to occupy during the War of Golden Succession - a war of two years length, claiming over a hundred million lives. Fedor I had promised peace and economic prosperity post-war, and yet now they found themselves in another war of gargantuan proportions. NATO and Gholgoth, two massive entities, were mobilizing in the face of a new thread - the Sovereign League. And although a smaller player in the sense of the amount of men immediately mobilized for war, the Empire was nonetheless preparing for this clash of titans. Ledan Tar'hiek thought to himself, as his master continued speaking, about the epic proportions of this war - a war that none had heard of since the school readings of the olden days when the gods battled each other.

"I have promised peace, prosperity and world status, " Fedor continued, with much emotion in his tone of voice. "What better way to achieve world status than to show off our arms in a world war anew?"

Ledan looked as another general rose to his feet to contest the Emperor, "Your Imperial Majesty, with all due respect intended, it has only been four years since the end of our last war and we still have not fully recovered. Indeed, you even promised the people that the armed forces would be reduced in numbers. You promised peace."

Fedor liked to quote grand sayings from past historians, and he liked to make every point as dramatic as possible. This was no exception. Starring at the general he replied simply, "If you want peace, prepare for war."

There was a stir around the room and another general cried out, "Long live the Emperor! Love live the Throne!"

Fedor smiled, but raised his hand, silencing the crowd, "I have authorized the mobilization of around 150,000 men. A shadow of our true potential, wouldn't you all agree? These men will be placed under the command of Field Marshal Ledan Tar'híek." The entire room turned their heads to look at him, and Tar'híek dipped his head in a show of gratuity. "Field Marshal, if you will, if you would explain to these gentlemen the plan of action."

Ledan rose and strode to the podium to the front with utmost elegance and grace. His white Imperial uniform was perfectly seamed and his gold rank insignia were clearly visible. Along his left breast were various medals arrayed over rows of ribbons. His neck was occupied by the Dienstadi Gold Cross, the highest rank in the Fuermak, combined with oak leaves, diamonds and spear heads. There was no question amongst anybody who was sitting in that room that he was the best man to lead the men in this war. Indeed, he had been the man who had truly fabricated Imperial victory at Ishme-Dagan that fate September in 2016, where the Havenic forces [Safehave2] had been smashed by the Imperial mallot. "Greetings, generals and field marshals."

The crowd did not sway or speak. They sat and watched silently, with all attention played on Ledan. "The 17th Expeditionary Land Group has been formed on paper and over the coming weeks will be congregated and shipped off to bases in Scandavian States. We will be under allied control, although our own operations will be commanded by myself. Nevertheless, until the Empire feels that it is necessary to send more forces we are not large enough to act as a stand-alone army, and therefore we will be under Scadavian jurisdiction." He paused for a couple seconds and then went on, "These are amongst the most elite forces of the Empire. The 14th Armored Corps, the 1st Imperial Cavalry Corps, the 107th Imperial Motorized Infantry Corps and the 32nd Mechanized Corps. Furthermore, the 3rd Maríenen Brigade will be transferred to the 1st Imperial Cavalry Corps. That amounts to a total of about 136,500 men. Additional forces will be sent in the form of accompanying air power, including three hundred Lu-45/Bs."

Fedor watched smiling and then interjected, "This will be our largest mobilization to a foreign nation since the beginning of the War of Golden Succession."

Ledan nodded at the Emperor, "Indeed. Our military capabilities will soon be the none by the entire world. We are no longer a regional power - we are a international contender."

Applauses filled the room from all corners and only when it settled down did one general rise to ask a question, "Do you know what they will do?"

Ledan shook his head, "Unfortunately, we have not been properly informed of what actual operations will be undertaken. Prior to any operations we expect a full briefing, but at this time we have none to share with our peers." That was a lie. The Emperor and the field marshal knew almost exactly what would happen - but word could not spread beyond them and those who were required to know amongst allied forces. Before he finished and gave the Emperor back his podium he said, "I do know one thing. The world will hold its breath."

Fort Art'bajar, Ejermacht
Dienstad

"Jesus f'ing Christ, why isn't our equipment gone already?" Lieutenant General Danel Gertel paced around the front courtyard of the fort violently, obviously vexed at the slow pace of things around him. "Our equipment should have been in Macabea by yesterda! Yet it sits here!"

The logistics officer in front of him had a confused, stupid look on his face as he looked at the general. His voice quivered as he spoke, "I d-d-don't know, g-g-general. Everything was ex-ex-expected t-t-t-t-to be out buh-buh-by yes-yesterday."

Lieutenant General Gertel waved his hand dismissively, "Get away." The other man nodded, did an about face and marched away, his hand shaking.

As the other man faded behind a building Gertel looked around him. Hundreds of men were running about preparing their things for deployment. He could hear the tracks of dozens of tanks in the distance, probably preparing to be transferred by means of rail to the Macabea harbor. From there they would make there way to Scandavian States and deploy to wherever they were told to go. All eighteen thousand men of his corps had been called back to base in preparation to ship out - their leave had been cut in half as a consequence. Most of these men had been battle-hardened and bled during the War of Golden Succession, although obviously the past four years had seen many go home and be replaced by new recruits. Nevertheless, this was one the best armored corps in the Ejermacht, led by one of the best military commanders.

The 21st and 4th Armored Brigades had, fortunately, already left. The only one left, and causing trouble, was the 3rd Armored Brigade. Its three hundred Nakíl 1A2 tanks had just been upgraded to Nakíl 1A3 status* and were awaiting enough trains to be shipped out to the harbor, where they would be loaded to a multitude of strategic projection ships´** and shipped to Scandavian States - along with the rest of the corps.

Lieutenant General Danel Gertel walked briskly backed to his command room in order to radio in some men which could help him get this small problem of congestion resolved. He made it back quickly and immediately got to work. He picked up the phone and rung an eight digit number. A couple of seconds later he said, "Get over here, on the double."

It was only a matter of minutes before two men, ranked lieutenant colonels, walked in and saluted the general, sounding off, "Yes, my general?"

The general saluted back and the other men finished off their own stiff-arm salute. Lieutenant General Gertel did not waste his own time, "Look, we have a problem. The 3rd Armored Brigade is late for its own shipping date. The problem is that apparently our railroads became congested as the entire fucking army apparently decided to head over on the same goddamn day. As you can tell I'm rather pissed off. I need you to hurry this bullshit up."

One of the lieutenant colonels sarcastically said, "You know our motto, hurry up and wait." The three men laughed, but it was cut shortly by the general.

"Yea, right. Unfortunately, this time we can't wait. Our allies need us and we need to get over there. I want you to go over to the logistics buildings and get me permission to use our eight and ninth rail lines. You know, the emergency ones."

The same officer who had spoken before said, "They won't let us do it unless you're with us."

"Hah," the general laughed. "Tell them to shut their lippy **** flaps unless they want my boot up their ass!"

With that and a finishing barrage of both formal and informal exchanges the three men parted ways, as the two lieutenant colonels headed over to complete their next task. If all worked well the entire armored corp would be ready to be shipped by the next day, and within three weeks would be at their respective harbor in Scandavian States.

To himself, the general commented, "I think it was Sun Tzu who said everyone of lower rank than you is probably a freakin' idiot." With that, he sat down, lit a Questerian cigar and smiled, "I'll get me some more of these for free, this time."

Imperial Harbor,
Macabea

Like always, the harbor was the most colorful part of the mobilization. Imperial naval insignia and the Imperial flag flew wanton on the dozens of ships which lined the piers in the harbor. The port was large enough to house several fleets, of several hundred ships, and at the same time was aptly protected by immense numbers of cannons of all shapes and types. While sailors scrubbed the floors bellow, seagulls watched from the sky, hoping that the ships had not scared all their watery prey away. Although the Empire was not to partake in any major naval action, for the time being at least, massive dreadnoughts accompanied the various smaller ships around them. They would be used to protect the several different convoys which would heat out from the same port towards Scandavian States. Officially, the Empire had not yet declared war on anything and hoped that apparent neutrality would prevent a shooting war between anything and the fleet prior to their arrival in Scandavian States.

The Kriermada was not the only body of immensity which occupied this infamous port of war - one that had fed many fleets into many battles throughout the War of Golden Succession. The harbor side's open warehouses were cluttered with thousands upon thousands of military widgets. Heavy and gargantuan Nakíl 1A3 tanks, colossal artillery and mortar vehicles and many other armored vehicles littered the side, awaiting for their turn to be put into the various ships directly opposite of them. The skies were clustered with steel cranes lifting boxes and crates into various vessels. For the first time in four years Macabea Harbor seemed as if it was in a state of war. And really, it was! But for the most part the sailors and soldiers who formed part of this throbbing cauldron of life were happy and proud to do their service for the Empire.

In that spirit the walkways and motorways which criss-crossed the massive naval base were crowded with men hustling to different areas. Some carried things, other carried nothing and others watched the ones who were carrying something or nothing - all clad in their white uniforms. The air was filled with the noise of machinery, chit-chat and even drilling. In one area, very near the water, seemingly hundreds of men wearing maroon berets drilled in a rather large courtyard - these were the marines; the Kriermada's special operation forces. There were other men with black berets running around or drilling - the Ejermacht's men. Soon there would over a hundred thousand fighting warriors prepared to leave for war anew. It was a miracle and a testament to industrialization that this one base could fit so many life forms - over half a million men in total, whether civilian contractors or men and women of military creed.

Aircraft jetted overhead, their sonic boom going unnoticed by those busy below. Three large carriers could be seen near the dreadnoughts, their bowels fully equipped with aircraft. Most of these aircraft would be left on land and rarely could take off from the decks of the carriers they now occupied, but the carrier was the only method one could think of to send these aircraft to Scandavian States with the least ships possible. Furthermore, it added bulk to the Imperial convoys heading there and provided an image for the would-be enemy.

Soon, this grand armada would sail into the horizon.





______________________________________
[OOC Notes:
* I never wrote a write-up, due to the lack of time. One will be written after basic training, but by that time it may be too late for this war. I might forget what I wrote here when I get out, but what I envision now is mostly an armor and turret upgrade. Just imagine more armor and a turret that looks a lot like that of the Merkava IV - it will look different, but the Merkava IV turret illustrates it the best. I think that's the only thing one really needs to know for the purpose of this war, while I'm gone to basic combat training - hopefully, that is. In any case, these three brigades are the only tanks which receive the upgrade before I come back from basic combat training; about 900 tanks total.
** Basically, larger versions of Spain's Buque de Proyección Estratégica [BPE]. This doesn't have an actual write-up, either. I might make one before I leave, though.

Presidential War Room
Killia, The Imperial Republic

The President, his closest military advisors, and closest political advisors, had found themselves once again gathered around “the round table” in the Presidential War Room. “The Round Table”, as everyone called it, was the nickname for the wide oaken table where The Imperial Republic’s most revered, and wisest, military and political advisors gathered to discuss pressing military matters concerning the nation. With the end of the War of Golden Succession, a meeting between the highest echelons of government had not been called in almost a year’s time. Since it had been almost a full year since these men had gathered to discuss military matters concerning the nation, some of the men in the room were re-introducing themselves to the familiar faces that they had not seen in some time. Most of the men in the Presidential war room were not only re-introducing themselves to familiar faces, but also asking themselves as to why they had been summoned by the president in such a short time after a large scale war.

The men’s questions were about to be answered because The President of The Imperial Republic had finally walked down the spiral stairs into The Presidential War Room. All the men immediately stood up as a sign of a respect when The President finally did enter the room and when The President sat down, everyone else sat down, and looked inquisitively at their leader. President Revello spent no time getting down to business and almost a second after he sat down he spoke.

“Gentlemen, it is good to see all of you once again. As glad as I am to finally see everyone again, especially in these busy times, I am not glad to have to bear the burden of telling you why you are here as I am positive that all of you are wondering why we are once again seated at “the round table”. As we all know, “the round table” is only used for the most pressing of military matters, and sadly using it today fits into this category. As you all already know The Imperial Republic has been recently admitted into The New Alliance Treaty Organization. Though you know this, most of you might not have known that this nation has been admitted into NATO in the midst of a brewing conflict. Questers, and the Sovereign League have been goading on NATO through its actions and mobilizations, and NATO leadership have reason to believe that full scale war is about to break out. Many of NATO’s member nations have begun to mobilize, and intend to get The Imperial Republic fully mobilized as well.”

“So that’s why we are here? To discuss mobilizations for another war?" Replied one of The Joint Chiefs of Staff

”War is not certain. If it does break out, I fully intend to support our NATO allies with direct military support." Revello responded.

"With all due respect Mr. President, how do you intend to rally congress for this ‘possible’ war, which seems almost certain looking at the track record of the Sovereign league, after all the sweat, blood, and lives given in The War of Golden Succession? I mean, the Killian people are most likely tired of war; all they want is peace, and prosperity." Stated The Secretary of State

”I understand that our citizens may be war weary, but when has The Imperial Republic ever backed away from allies in need? Though NATO may be an alliance between many nations as opposed to a direct alliance between two nations, it is still an alliance nonetheless. Gentlemen, I believe highly in the values of valor and loyalty and this situation calls for both. I know most of you agree with me on the fact that Killian citizens, military or civilian, pride themselves on their loyalty and commitment to its allies. Even though we have just finished a terrible war, this is no reason to turn on our core beliefs and buckle. I still maintain my belief that we should mobilize for the defense of our allies. Mr. Johnson and Mr. Muniz have both made good points, and I understand their concern. That’s why we are here, to discuss mobilization rather than one person order mobilization. However, I urge you all to heed what I have just said.”

After Revello had spoken a murmur had arose in the room. Furious discussion was going on between both the political and military advisors about what was to be done. Revello had always been an eloquent speaker capable of moving his men with his passion, and tonight was no different. Despite the fact that Revello had sparked conversation amongst his advisors not everyone was going to see his argument, and the meeting was going to drag out. Revello was uncertain for the first time in a while if he was going to have the support of his closest advisors.

The meeting was indeed dragged out and had lasted nearly five hours; the longest time ever spent in The Presidential War Room. Towards the close of the meeting, Revello stepped out of the room to let his advisors have their last discussion alone so they would not be influenced by his presence.

While Revello was waiting above “the round table”, he looked at his watch and was very much surprised at the length of time he was waiting because the final advisory conference had never taken the amount of time it was taking. To him, it meant that fierce discussion was taking place and that there was a lot of differing opinions below him. However, Revello’s thought train about the final advisory conference was quickly derailed as Allen Johnson, The Secretary of State and Foreign Affairs poked his head out of the door to let Revello know it was time for the final decision. Revello followed his friend and subordinate back into the room. As Revello entered everyone was standing to one side of the room, as was final procedure, while Revello took his position at the opposite wall. Johnson joined the line, and then stepped forward with the final decision.

”Mr. President, we have gathered once again around “the round table” to discuss pressing military matters. Tonight, we have addressed this issue of full scale mobilization in support of our NATO allies. There has been much difference of opinion in this matter, and after a long deliberation we have come to a decision and also have our own statement to give you. It is the decision of us “knights” to give our full support to this mobilization measure. However we have a statement as well and our statement is this: We will not override the congressional decision. We also would like to state that Killian men and women never turn tail in the face of adversity, and that point was too overwhelming in our hearts to ignore. Mr. President, we wish you the best of luck pushing this. This meeting of the “knights” is hereby convened.”

Congressional Hall,
Killia, The Imperial Republic

President Revello was looking at himself in the mirror while making last minute adjustments to his appearance. He was slightly nervous about addressing congress, as he always was. However, tonight he had even more reason to be nervous because he had called for EVERY major news channel, national and international, to televise his address. Revello’s confidence was boosted when he reflected on what he had written, because he was sure it was one of the best addressed he had ever penned.

At exactly 20:00 hours, Killian Time, he began walking onto the stage of the Congressional Hall. The hall was silent, and Revello could hear his own footsteps echoing off of the marble walls as he slowly, yet gracefully, strode to the podium. When he reached the podium he cleared his voice, looked out at his country men and said,

“Gentlemen, you may be seated.”

After the noise of the entire body of congress sitting down ended Revello looked at his address for the final time and began to read.

“Gentlemen, it is with great emotion, and a heavy heart that I have called you all here tonight. The Imperial Republic of HailandKill is once again caught in the troubling times of the present. As you all know, The Imperial Republic has been admitted into The New Alliance Treaty Organization, or NATO for short. With our admittance into such a great organization comes great responsibility. The responsibility I am speaking of is honor and loyalty. We must be honorable to our new allies by giving them our unconditional loyalty. I am sure most of you know this though, and I am also sure that most of you are asking ‘what does this have to do with us at the present?’ At the present times, The Sovereign league, and the nation of Questers, has been goading NATO with its mobilizations, and diplomatic statements. Despite the best efforts of diplomacy it would seem that these tensions between NATO and the SL are going to degenerate into war. What I come asking tonight, is that we support our NATO allies with full scale mobilization. I will not lie; this mobilization is in case of war. If war breaks out I want The Imperial Republic to be ready to send its military support to our NATO allies, but most important, our NATO brethren. I know many of our citizens may be ‘war-weary’, but The Imperial Republic and its citizens have never turned its back on allies, even during the most trying of times. We Killian people pride ourselves on our loyalty, and even though we may be tired of war, that is no reason to break down our core beliefs and ignore the passion of our hearts.

So, what I propose tonight is a congressional meeting tomorrow to discuss mobilizations for a war if it breaks out. A measure will be presented by the Presidential Branch of The Imperial Republic to congress for review. This measure will be about mobilization and war. What I ask now, is that members of congress, and citizens of The Imperial Republic, sleep tonight and think about what I am asking. Let us not be known for forgetting our allies for our own good, but rather be known for helping our allies at their greatest time of need, despite our own needs.

Goodnight, and may The Imperial Republic prosper forever. For the glory of HailandKill!”

------
From The Imperial Newspaper

CONGRESS SAYS YES!
The Imperial Newspaper, Only Bringing The Best To Its Readers


By Anthony Fiore, Staff Writer


With an early session of congress today, President Revello brought a measure from the Presidential Office that asked for a few important things regarding the Imperial Republic and its citizens. The key points of this measure are:

1) Full scale mobilization in support of NATO allies
2) The ability to declare war on all nations belligerent towards NATO should full scale war erupt

Congress, after deliberating for nearly six hours approved the measure in an overwhelming landslide, despite the recent end of “The War of Golden Succession”. Congress voted to approve the measure and this approval was most likely given with the passionate speech that President Mark Revello gave last night. This speech was broadcast live from every major new media outlet, and reached the ears of every citizen. So what is now in store for The Imperial Republics citizens? Full scale mobilization means that all soldiers will be recalled to their respective bases and geared up for war. Though war is not certain, this full scale mobilization will not be taken lightly and soldiers that do not show up at their designated base by 0900 tomorrow will be pressed with the charge of desertion, a crime punishable by death. War certainly seems like it will happen with these strict rules imposed.

As of the publishing of this newspaper, Killian Chief Of Staff Carl Muniz stated that nearly seventy five percent of Killian soldiers are already ready to see combat. General Muniz also stated that the rest of the entire armed forces should be ready to see major combat, should it arise, in three days time.

The National Security Advisor to The President gave us a statement as well, and he had this to say: “The Killian war machine is currently gearing up for possible major operations. I have no doubt that we will be ready to ship out soldiers, if needed, in three days time. As of right now, military instillations are preparing its soldiers, equipping them, and staying on general standby. The Killian Kriegsmarine is also prepared to strike at any moment, and even as we speak, our armadas are being armed and prepared to make war with our enemies."

These strong words from two high ranking military officials are only backed by the events occurring on military instillations. This morning on The Imperial News Network, an affiliate of this newspaper, we saw a live feed from one of The Republics military instillations that showed us how fast paced everything was occurring. We also saw thousands of men reporting for duty, and being handed out equipment.

None of the government’s officials have anything to hide apparently, and President Revello’s thought of a possible war is in everyone minds, military or not.

Economists are questioning whether or not the Killian economy can stand up to another war…(continued on page A2)

Admiralty Building
Georgetown, United Kingdom

"This, sir, just came over from the Foreign Office." A young secretary left a single piece of paper upon the mahogany desk of Radovan Noskovic, First Lord of the Admiralty. He nodded in silence, cooly snapping the paper until it stood stiffly in his hands, his eyes reading its contents quickly. After a moment, he replaced it back upon his desk, next to a report stamped 'Classified' about the development of the next generation of dreadnoughts.

For a long time, he stared in silence at a model of his former command, a diesel-electric submarine that had been given to him as a gift by his former crew upon appointment to his current position, which oversaw not just Novikovians but all Oceanians including those whose ships he had sunk numerous times over. But those times were also over; and he knew it well. He was himself now an Oceanian. He was himself now a bureaucrat, likes the ones in Poldi'sk whom he had loathed so vehemently while breathing stale, recycled, purified air.

That war had been a disastrous event. Most of Noskovic's fellow submariners never came after setting sail to launch their surprise attacks. To that objective they succeeded brilliantly, cruise missiles ravaging coastal cities and sinking hundreds of thousands of tonnes of merchant shipping and even an old dreadnought--though she was on her to a boneyard. Yet the retribution was swift and merciless. Less than ten percent of those who had set sail were alive just three months later. He was one of the most fortunate, but therein among the most unfortunate. He had survived. He had watched the Novikovian government, or rather the tatters that remained, capitulate and acquiesce to annexation. And so, with the change of tide came a change of career for the submariner, who became an MP for a Novikovian constituency and then a cabinet member in a coalition government. And so he sat behind a mahogany desk looking at the quiet plastic across from his desk instead of the cold black steel in the shipyards and naval bases throughout the Empire.

He remembered well the uncertainty, the nervous anxiety, the boyish eagerness for combat. From Devonport and Philadelphia to Churchill and Amelia. From Zvolen in Novikov to Avinapolis and Port Blair in the Indian Ocean, sailors and submariners sat around their messes, flipping over cards, losing and winning a few pounds or shilings, the extroverts drunk in the pubs picking up that one last country girl, the introverts reclining in their bunks finishing off that one last chapter. Despite the secrecy, whispered questions and furtive glances had rolled over into a torrent of emotional speeches and shrill yells and rumbling roars. The Royal Navy knew that despite repairs being half-complete, new ships being not fully built, and the new fleets laying upon the slipways and drydocks, they knew that in all likelihood they were to be called upon again. This time as they were, not like before.

When Noskovic and his socialist comrades laid to waste Oceanian cities and infrastructure, the Royal Navy had been ready. When the Grand Fleet sailed it did so with what it wanted. The numbers it wanted. The training it wanted. The preparation it wanted. But replenishing the depots and war stocks had not yet been completed. Replacement of the escort fleet and the older dreadnoughts all lost during the war also lay largely incomplete. While the hardened survivors of the war now commanded the ships and the fleet, their green crews enamored by the trumpeted legends of false heroics now took their place.

Yet upon his desk lay what Noskovic had feared for the past several months. News, both public and private, of mobilisation after mobilisation. From Questers to the vast plains of Gholgoth armies stirred and men steeled themselves for the inevitable. Across the seas, behemoths of steel roared to life only to face a near-certain fiery death. His eyes turned once more to that single piece of paper, upon it the succinct appraisal of the situation by the Foreign Secretary. "War now seen as inevitable."

Office of the Prime Minister
Georgetown, United Kingdom

"I wholeheartedly agree, Quentin, but we need to understand that as of yet, nothing has happened." Rodney Ingrahm sighed to himself. His party had won a general election not even a year ago, and it now faced its largest foreign/defence crisis, far larger than anything likely to happen in the coming four years. "The Oceanian people are tired of war, and I will not be so callous as to affix my name to any NATO declaration simply because the remainder of the world seems so willing to."

"With all due respect, sir," Sir Quentin Sterling, the Defence Secretary, replied, "we are geographically isolated by thousands of kilometres. If we are going to send assistance, we need to issue the appropriate orders immediately. We can still countermand them after the ships have left port and even when they arrive at their destinations, they can be recalled. It might even be that by sending forces we help Questers realise they cannot win."

While the Prime Minister and the Defence Secretary sat opposite each other on two large sofas, a man pouring himself a glass of water near the door scoffed quite loudly. "Quentin, stop being a fool. Neither the Sovereign League nor NATO is going to back down. This has become nothing short of a matter of pride," the Foreign Secretary smiled as he watched Sterling roll his eyes with unbridled contempt. "I do not doubt the ability of our fighting men and women, but sending personnel, if not materiel, is tantamount to a declaration of intent to stand besides NATO come what may."

"So then what do you advise, Gavin, standing upon the sidelines for the entirety of the conflict?" Sterling retorted sharply.

"No, but," the room hushed as the door opened, the Prime Minister's secretary appearing.

"Sorry, gentlemen, but two more guests have arrived."

"Thank you," Ingrahm replied, "please, do send them in." He smiled politely and waited for two more bodies to appear. The first he recognised, the short and slender First Lord, but the second he knew not by appearance. "Good afternoon, Radovan, and you, sir, I take it are Admiral Sir Wesley Osborne," Ingrahm extended his hand to the grey-haired individual, his sky-blue eyes clear and alert.

"It is an honour, Prime Minister. The First Lord informed me you wished to meet with me personally."

"Indeed, Admiral, please, do sit down," Ingrahm said, offering the Admiral his seat on the sofa. "You are aware, no doubt, of the vast number of mobilisations occuring throughout the world, of the gauntlets, so to speak, being laid down by the Sovereign League, by Gholgoth, and increasingly by NATO, no?"

"I am aware, sir."

"And what is your take on the situation, Admiral?"

Osborne sat still, his cap tucked underneath his arm. With his left hand he unbuttoned his jacket and when complete remove the cap from under his arm and placed it squarely in the centre of the table between the sofas. "I, sir, am an officer in the Royal Navy and not a politician." He looked over at Secretary Astley, standing in the corner, nursing a glass of ice water, "I am also a man born in combat, not a diplomat." He returned his gaze to the Prime Minister and paused, "and so keep in mind, sir, my response is formulated as who I am and not whom many here may like me to be."

"War is now inevitable, sir. One does not ready super-capitals and super-dreadnoughts without the intention of using them. That both sides are taking on stores and fueling their escorts means war is coming, my estimate is within a few months. Deployments will be made to combat zones, then perhaps some more diplomatic posturing, then NATO or the Sovereign League will attempt to launch a surprise attack," Osborne allowed himself a smirk at the word surprise before continuing, "and then we will have a truly bloody war upon our hands. And when it comes, it will not be as many would otherwise like it to be. There will be no status quo ante bellum. Both sides seek blood. Both sides seek domination. Uti possidetis, gentlemen, will be the law of the land."

"At the Academy," Osborne continued, "we were taught history. We were taught of the Greeks, of Alexander, of the Romans, of the Spanish and of the British. New world orders do indeed exist. But novelty's lustre shines brightly very briefly. If this war does indeed bring about the new world order heralded by pundits and analysts, it will last but a brief time. No nation, no coalition even, may retain power indefinitely. Perhaps, as some argue, the Sovereign League has had its time and now a resurgent NATO will supplant the shriveling League. Or perhaps not," Osborne added with a hint of melancholy. "Regardless, Mr. Prime Minister, war is coming and blood will flow. While one side will likely dominate the other by the conclusion, all sides will lose. Millions will die and some economies will be so thoroughly ravaged so as to become impotent and dependent upon aid. My hope, sir, is that you do your very best to keep us out of this war for even if we are isolated so that the civilians do not return to the front lines, many of my comrades--and not just in the Royal Navy--will perish."

"And who said that sailors had vulgar mouths," the Foreign Secretary exclaimed, punctuating his comment with the plinks of ice cubes into another glass, this one filled with brandy. "Admiral, well spoken, well spoken indeed. Yet," he added, his tone turning serious, "this brilliant piece of oration lacks a critical facet dismissed all too readily by the Defence Secretary. Power is expensive, especially so when we use warships and aeroplanes and tanks and rifles."

Sterling laughed quietly, "I doubt you would even use force if a warship parked itself off the coast of Thamesport and began to level the city."

Astley shook his head, "I have never said that I do not support the use of force, Quentin, even here today, I have not said that I do not support Oceanian forces fighting in this war; but that if we do use them, we must take great care in how and when we use them." The Foreign Secretary turned to the remainder of the room and continued, "as I was saying, no nation can afford to continually use force if it wants to keep a satiated populace. At times it must resort to the fear of using force; a fear that may only be leveraged with the history of such force being applied in the past."

"Some nations regard us as a power in this world," Astley continued, "though most simply by the sheer recognition of our economic strength--not by any accounting of our force of arms. Indeed, we do not have the largest navy or the largest army because we prefer stability and its offspring peace and prosperity. However, our economy, and our massive savings--although admittedly dented by actions in Novikov--remain intact. While the Chancellor could provide more statistics on the matter, we can indeed support a war. We can afford more ships and more planes and more tanks. And if we do so, just this once with allies at our side, we show unto the world that Oceania is a power with which to be reckoned. But a power that is just and wisely applied."

As Astley returned to fill his glass with a bit more brandy, the room fell eerily quiet. Noskovic brought out a pad and scratched with ballpoint pen a few hurried notes and handed them over to Osborne, who nodded and returned the pad to his civilian boss. Sterling eased back into his sofa, a conspicuous grin upon his face. Ingrahm simply stood and walked over to his long-time friend, who dropped a few ice cubes into another glass and poured the Prime Minister some brandy.

"Are you advocating the use of force, Gavin?" Ingrahm spoke quietly, placing his hand upon his friend's shoulder.

"Rodney," Astley replied, without the formal Mr. Prime Minister or simpler even sir, "for all his faults Salisbury knew well the balance. When propitious moments arose, he set forth the ships and the fleet and they returned bloodied but victorious. Look at Lindim, look at Euroslavia. Each one cost us significantly. Hundreds if not thousands died. But look at the respect each conflict bestowed upon this nation. Indeed, it is for Euroslavia and our actions there that we belong to NATO. And now NATO stands imperiled. Our friends stand upon the ramparts and we remain huddled in committee after conference after committee."

"You speak of friends, Gavin, and for now these nations seem far more fair-weather than our strongest allies--neither of whom are likely to lend us aid or support in this conflict. Our geographic isolation is a double-edged sword, Quentin hinted at the first. It might well shield us from being a main theatre, but should some fleet come sailing this way our NATO allies are as equidistant from us as our newfound enemy."

"I would hesitate to even call them an enemy, Rodney. In many respects, we share a great deal in common with Questers and Praetonia. In any other time, and in any other situation we could be sending ambassadors rather than warships. But that is the nature of this game, you and I both know that."

Ingrahm took a slow sip of his brandy, eyeing his friend closely. "Even our closest allies, Gavin, may not be in the future--though I daresay that day shall come ever closer when we set sail. If by cha--"

"When?" Astley asked, pausing from his own sip, leaving the liquid to ripple in its glass as the words left his mouth, his head tilted to the side and eyes laying quizzically upon the Prime Minister.

"My instinct is to support NATO, Gavin. Never have I said I do not support this war--"

"Indeed, you rarely say anything until we have all said everything aloud."

Ingrahm smiled devilishly for a moment before returning to a more civilised grin. "In this age of complexity, one man cannot know all and I prefer to think that my fellow ministers are experts in the portfolios for which I have picked them. I of course have my own opinions, but would rather hear the experts, so to speak, before making a decision of my own. And thus far, the only soul amongst us I would have imagined to protest this conflict has turned out to be among its staunchest supporters.

"Just please refrain from repeating that to Quentin over there," Astley added dryly. The two stood in silence, finishing off their drinks and then replacing the glasses on the small table. "Is it to be made official?"

"Not just yet, I want to talk to Elizabeth and get the full financial report from the Treasury. I want to be absolutely sure that we can handle the economic impact of such a war before I opt to take part in it. But," Ingrahm added after a step towards the waiting men, "from what I recall your assessment is relatively accurate."

Astley took a seat and the others finished writing notes and sending out messages on their handhelds as Ingrahm rubbed his hand over his chin. "Gentlemen, I should like to take the opportunity to thank you for coming here this afternoon and providing me your opinions and professional advice on the matter. While there certainly remain other aspects to this matter which need consideration and deliberation, I have decided upon a preliminary course of action that can be entirely reversed if the situation warrants."

"Quentin, I would like for you to issue the orders to the RAF to arrange for deployments of frontline fighter and strategic strike aircraft to the appropriate fields of conflict. Just make doubly sure that enough long-range stealth strike aircraft remain in the United Kingdom to defend against any fleets that attempt to carry the battle here. Also, begin to issue orders to the Royal Army that will see the deployment of self-sustaining overseas combat units to various nations. Coordinate such preparations with the Admiralty who I am going to order to make ready strategic transports. Any questions?"

"How many men, Mr. Prime Minister.?"

Ingrahm stood quiet. He knew all were looking at him, a few hundred for a light support role and a few thousand for a minor combat role perhaps. "Around 170 thousand, Quentin. Enough that we can offer NATO a substantial ground force, especially given they know we are not a nation of soldiers but rather sailors. And that brings me to you, Radovan."

"Yes it does, Mr. Prime Minister."

"Prepare an expeditionary fleet--no grand fleet this time, not like the last war because we could still be required to fight here at home. Dispatch two of your super-capital warships and the appropriate escorts as well as say sixty or so thousand Royal Marines for an amphibious invasion. Stand up the Reserve and assign them, for the time being, to begin patrolling the immediate sea lanes of communication and within a fortnight I want escorts for any ships carrying materiel for the Royal Air Force or the Royal Army to our allies."

Ingrahm turned around as if to end the meeting, but slowly returned his gaze to the group of men assembled in his office. "Radovan, who would be the leader of this expeditionary fleet?"

"According to rotation, I believe that would be Admiral Vincenc Lavrik. He was the commander of Novikovian submarine forces during the last war," Noskovic replied, pausing for a moment at the end. "However, given the request to incorporate two of our super-capital warships into this fleet, I feel that Lavrik may not be the most eminently qualified. I have, therefore, been talking to Admiral Sir Wesley Osborne about the matter, and with your permission, sir, would like to propose him to lead the expeditionary fleet."

Ingrahm nodded. That was, of course, the reason he had asked for Osborne. Lavrik would command the submarine force attached to Osborne's fleet; but while Lavrik had never commanded any ship larger than a light cruiser, Osborne had commanded a dreadnought and a surface action group. And if the dreaded war were to come, experience would matter greatly. "What say you, Admiral? Will you command His Majesty's fleet?"

Osborne nodded solemnly. "If that is what is asked of me by His Majesty's Government, I will do my duty, sirs."

"Then that much is settled, gentlemen, we all must attend to duties now, and if you will excuse me, I have a meeting downstairs with Sultan Bashir."

Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean

"Inform Captain Richardson that he has twice now had his command blown out from underneath him," Deep within the steel castle christened King George, Sir Wesley Osborn sighed heavily; since his meeting with the Prime Minister, the Home Fleet had been augmented by the contraction of capital ships from various colonial stations. Unconfirmed reports from ORNI even indicated that the various fleets in and around New Albion and perhaps even Sarnia could be redeployed by week's end. In the interim, however, Osborne was left to bring the Royal Navy to the highest state of readiness. Off the southern coast, a few hundred kilometres south of Chatham in an area well-sanitised by continuous ASW patrols, the main ships of the battle line shook as they loosed thunderous salvo after salvo upon decommissioned dreadnoughts and wrecks salvaged from the Novikovian War.

Osborne steadied himself and turned to the captain of the King George, "fire at will, Captain," he ordered calmly. In the brief moment as the order was issued to the main batteries, Osborne sat into his seat and secured his cup of tea in his hand. Although loud, the rapport of A Turret firing at once was muffled by the armour and compartmentalisation of the flagship. He eyed without emotion a screen to which live feeds of the target were being relayed by aerial drones. What had once been a mighty dreadnought in the Royal Navy had her superstructure turned into an abstract-expressionist's sculpture. A second salvo from B Turret shredded the forward deck; the third and fourth from C and Y missed while the fifth from Z scored a hit upon the rear citadel.

"Satisfactory, Captain," Osborne commented dryly. "Let us repeat the exercise again; however, this time I expect C and Y to perform at least with nominal success." He paused and watched the video of the massive gun barrels lowering. "Captain," Osborne called out, "have the engines make revolution for fifteen knots--I want your gun crews to be able to hit these targets at speed."

"Very well, Admiral."

For the first time since the gunnery exercises had commenced--without warning--at 0215, the Admiral cracked a smile. It came, however, at the expense of the tired and weary crew. Perhaps they simply did not realise that they could well be engaging some of the best gunners in the world. The only chance they was to train hard.

HMNB Portsmouth
Portsmouth, United Kingdom

From the centuries-old brick ramparts, Marine Trent Goshawk watched with his bright blue boyishly naive eyes as diesel locomotives rumbled along the tracks, pulling flatbed cars loaded with main battle tanks, mobile artillery pieces, utility vehicles, and what seemed to be millions of crates and pallets. "What is all that," he asked only half to his commanding officer, Corporal Gregory Folsom.

Unlike Goshawk, Folsom had seen a mobilisation before. Train loads full of materiel winding their way to naval bases and civilian ports, slowly being loaded upon strategic transport ships, civilian auxiliaries and the lucky few upon assault ships ready for debarkation into a hot combat zone. Though Folsom also knew that soldiers who thought that to be the case were just as naive as Goshawk; they would likely end up sitting in bunkers cleaning their rifles or lay prone on firing ranges or crouching in dirt ditches on their way to fortified trenches.

"This is one of the royal tank regiments, Marine," Folsom replied. "If I recall from last night, this one has come from Inverness, the 12th Hussars or something like that. Likely headed off to either Haven or Gholgoth."

"We shipping out any time soon, sir?"

Folsom laughed. "Not until relieved, Marine. We are the garrison for Portsmouth--it is possible that we could be relieved by a Territorial Army regiment, but that would only be if things become unpleasant overseas. No, we shall stay here."

"Bloody shame," Goshawk replied, still mesmerised by the rolling stock transporting Cougars and Jaguars through the main rail gate into the base. Folsom simply shook his head. What he had seen in Novikov was likely to pale to what was brewing upon the distant horizon. For Folsom had come to know the meaning of war; and while he would not shirk from his duty, he would prefer not to be on that frontline on that first night.

"If you say so, Marine."

The Citadel
Georgetown, United Kingdom

Rodney Ingrahm sat alone, his only company the flowers and trees troubled not by the impending war but rather the cool evening breeze descending down from the Brittany Mountains to the west of the capital. The papers and the media had begun to speculate with the expected return of warships inexplicably delayed, soldiers being recalled to their garrisons and unit headquarters. Overhead, those that watched the skies had noticed increased RAF flights while trawlers and freighters had been reporting increased Royal Navy traffic in the major shipping lanes.

In Parliament, the opposition Democratic Socialists had already quietly put forth questions to the Government about what was on the table. While the former Prime Minister was effectively out of politics, he knew just as well as Ingrahm that ultimately the United Kingdom would fight and so was doing his best to keep partisan politics out of the equation. Ingrahm only wondered what that would mean sacrificing in the years to come. Regardless, the time for cloak and dagger machinations was nearing an end. The world and the nation would need to be told soon.

Presidential Bunker, Federation Mountains, Ambrose-Douglas

President Justin M. Ambrose rubbed his eyes sleepily. He had been awakened in the middle of the night by his Ambassador, Benjamin J. Douglas, along with Premier Christopher Benson and then rushed to the presidential bunker buried deep in the Federation Mountains. At first he thought the country was under attack, but the countryside had been dark and peaceful as they had flown over it. No, something else was up. He yawned as he pressed a blinking green button, illuminating a large television screen with a transmission incoming from Jestasin, the Federation's fortified military compound just off the northwestern coast.

"Report, General." The President said, frowning slight at his top military commander, Allied-General Hames Kirkuten, who waved up onto the screen. He didn't like being woken in the middle of the night.

"Sir, we must mobilize, immediately."

"Is there an imminent threat, General?"

"Not to the Federation, no sir. But NATO, sir... Questers and the Sovereign League are going to attack."

"Damnit!" The President swore loudly and turned his back on his top military aid. "Computer, I want a map of Haven, ASAP." A map of Haven popped up on the screen. "NATO colors in blue, QC and SL in red." The map wavered and then changed colors.

"Sir... might I suggest..." Premier Benson offered slowly, "that this might not be our fight to get into?"

"Shut up, Benson." The President snapped as he looked at the map. "We're a part of NATO. An attack on one is an attack on all. We have to mobilize whatever we can to help." He blinked slowly. "General!"

"Yessir?"

"Send out the orders to mobilize everyone, and I mean everyone. Full army, navy, air force, reserves as well. What is our total mobilization force at last count?"

"With reserves and support and everything, sir? 3,903,416."

"And our total reserve force?"

"With applicable support staying as well? Approximately 1,000,000."

"Good... mobilize the 1st through the 8th Armies for deployment within the week. The Home Defense Fleet, under the command of Under Admiral Gregory Falstof, will be remaining here, but all other ships will deploy to Haven wherever NATO needs them." He paced to the side, speaking as he went.

"All available land based fighters and bombers will be sent. All helicopters and transport aircraft not part of the Home Defense Force will be sent. We will show that we are ready and able to help our NATO allies in their time of need." General Kirkuten smiled softly.

"I will summon Admiral Piet to captain the Immortal Voyage personally, Mr. President. Will that be all? I will start sending out mobilization notices as soon as this transmission ends."

"Yes, General, that will be all. And thank you."

"No, Mr. President, thank you." The transmission cut off. Ambrose sighed and smiled to himself. He turned to Benjamin Douglas.

"Come on, we have a speech to write and a populous to address."

Špeciálny Operátori Headquarters, Camp Sv. Mikhail
30 km north of Zvolen, the Oceanian Home Country of Novikov

“Pozore! – Attention!” Podpolkovnik Zjemo shouted, his voice echoing through the dimply lit hanger. A cascade of booted feet followed, stomping across the concrete floor, a murmur of voices, then the sudden hush. From his vantage point, the Lieutenant Colonel could see the grim faces of over 200 of his best officers. Many of the men had been notified of the briefing just hours earlier, but, though the purpose of the assembly was known only to a select few within the ranks, it was apparent from each man’s expression that they knew what the subject would be. Zjemo took a deep breath and, still shouting, began to address the crowd.

“As most of you know, elements of the Royal Navy and Air Force, in conjunction with other NATO allies, have engaged in direct combat against Sovereign League forces within Haven. The first shots were fired some three hours ago. As of that time, there has been a state of war between the United Kingdom and the Sovereign League.” He paused momentarily, reaching into the breast pocket of his uniform to withdraw a folded piece of paper. “Forty minutes ago, the ŠOR (National Defense Council) issued the following statement:

‘In accordance with national defense objectives, all troops assigned to the Domobrana (Home Guard) will report to their duty stations and prepare for combat deployments in support of His Majesty’s Armed Forces. All leave is hereby canceled.’

The Špeciálny Operátori (Special Operations Staff) has been tasked with being the first Domobrany unit to deploy out of country. Where we are headed I am not authorized to say, but I assure you this will be no picnic. We’ve all seen combat before. All units will assemble at their barracks at 1800 hours tomorrow with full combat loads. We fly out of Zvolen International at 2200 tomorrow. Our destination and mission objectives will be given once we’re in the air – and don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time to brief your men. It’s a long flight where we’re headed. God be with you.” Zjemo quickly crossed himself, starting at his right shoulder in the Russian Orthodox tradition, before snapping a brief salute. “Dismissed!”

----

Across Novikov similar scenes were taking place. All military instillations were brought to full alert, air patrols doubled over they skies of the nation. Though small in comparison to the rest of United Kingdom’s military forces, the Novikovian Home Guard was going to war.

The Home Guard’s reserve units had not been assembled yet, but the threat to Novikovian territory was deemed only minor. Military planners believed that the war would be relegated to distant shores where the sounds of battle could already be heard. Therefore, the Home Guard mobilized accordingly. Most assembled units were tasked to simply keep a watchful vigil over Novikovian territory and the surrounding oceans, to be supplemented by some 20 reserve divisions as they reached combat readiness within the next two weeks.

Of the 12 active divisions in the Home Guard, nine were chose to remain in-country, scattered battalion-by-battalion across Novikov to supplement the Royal army regiments defending key regions of the land. The remaining three divisions – the 51st Guards Airborne Division, 6th Armored Division, and 22nd Naval Infantry Division – all began to assemble outside the city of Prostejov in northern Novikov’s Czechzen Province. These three divisions had formed the fighting core of the old Colonial Self Defense Force in its operations against radical anti-Oceanian separatists in Gorno-Alatii just 14 months prior, and many of the divisions’ officers and NCOs had experience in the Novikovian-Azazian war which had ended just 27 months ago. These experienced units would form the Novikovski Výpravi Zbor (Novikovian Expeditionary Force), in conjunction with personnel from the 142nd Engineering Battalion and various fighter and transport wings from the Home Guard’s Air Army. In total, 35,500 combat troops, with just over 900 armored vehicles, 228 guns, and 210 combat aircraft would be deployed overseas to support Royal Army units in the Cravanian Overseas Territory. Planners expected assembly and drilling for this force to be complete within one week, and transport of the units to be complete just 12 days after that. Hopefully, the Royal Army would be able to hold until they arrived.

The Štátna Domobrana Flotila (National Home Guard Fleet) was likewise split between defending Novikov’s national waters and shipping lanes, and conduction offensive operations in and around Haven. The Novikovian submarine force, which just two years earlier had boasted over 400 boats, now contained only 80 vessels. Of these, just 11 of the new SS-05 Víčor-class (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=433473) nuclear boats were in position to conduct offensive patrols against SL shipping. These boats were given orders to seek targets of opportunity. The surface fleet was likewise only able to task a handful of ships to the Haven front, and most of those available were held back to escort the NVZ to the COT. The escort force, it was decided, would consist of one Premyslid class Dreadnaught (http://z13.invisionfree.com/The_NS_Draftroom/index.php?showtopic=1138&hl=) - the NL'L Kníže Boleslav Ukrutný - plus the NL'L Václav (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=442553), Novikov’s oldest battleship, and two deGaulle class carriers, plus 40 various destroyers and frigates and 12 corvettes. A second smaller force would also be deployed for commerce raiding in the rich channels of the central Pacific, based around the old Foch class carrier NL'L Prostejov and four Morsky-Orol (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=425651) class cruisers, plus a handful of nuclear-powered escorts.

As a final preparation, the remnants of the Novikovian ASAT program were put on full alert. Over eighty Glushko-1 MRBMs (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=424728) had been converted to this kind of work. Though their range limited them to targeting only satellites in low earth orbit, there was a plethora of targets available to them. No battery had yet been given orders to fire, but two dozen various communications and observations satellites were chosen as high priority targets, each tracked by three or sometimes four ASAT missiles to compensate for their relative inaccuracy. This would enable Novikoian planners to black out a portion of the sky long enough to greatly aid the NVZ transports in slipping by the heavy defenses in the centeral Pacific, increasing the odds of available land forces reaching their Royal Army brethren in the COT intact.

[OOC: I hope no one takes offense to this. I do feel intitled to help Azazia, but I don't want to get overly involved and influence envents too much, thus this is all I'll be contributing. If you don't know, I'm part of the United Kingdom of Oceania, and thus am a de-facto part of NATO. My focus will be on Northford, with the exception of a few ASAT launches and commerce raiding, unless someone else says directly that they want to engage my units. Because of the small size of my Home Guard (most of my troops are by now intigrated into the Royal Army and Navy that Azazia is RPing with), my contribution shouldn't influence the course of the war, so I hope this doesn't cause a fuss. It's just 2,800 special forces, plus the units outlined above.]