NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: nothing's been officially planned yet for this little island that Cravan and I control, but it's just fun to write about for the time being. Northland= a Joint Colony in the south of Haven between two of the southern landmasses and two seas exit out to the larger ocean around the island.

Northland

Things weren’t moving so smoothly up in Northland at the moment. As the evacuation, or relocation orders in some cases, came to the civilians, many protested, especially the Cravanians and quite a few Illiorians as well. They couldn’t believe that their one time ally Questers would suddenly turn against them, and attack them. There was no way, they believed, that anyone from GASN could do wrong, as they shared a common belief with the Illiorians and Cravanians.

Other Illiorians understood the situation, having been through more. They realized that people’s interests change and as those interests change so do their values.

“PEOPLE PLEASE,” General Chris Markham shouted through the bullhorn he was holding. “You may bring all your belongings, and housing has been arranged for you back in Illior and Cravan or their respective colonies, this is for your own good!”

“BULLSHIT!” One Cravanian shouted at the general

“Who says you know what’s best for us?” another in the crowd shouted. A Chorus of “Yeah!” or that followed by other profanities promptly erupted.

“Shit, this isn’t good,” Markham said to Colonel Jake Heller.
“No kiddin Gen, these guys’ll die unless we get their asses off the island ASAP, I mean, we’re right in the fucking middle of a channel, it’s one of the most strategic positions that our bloc has against all of the bastards, we’re sure to be hit.” Heller responded as he looked around, and noticed a Cravanian convoy coming towards the rally.

“FUCK NO, WE WON’T GO! FUCK NO WE WON’T GO!” The chorus repeated over and over. The Cravanian commanding officer got out of his APC and made his way to Markham and Heller. As he got closer, Heller recognized him as an old friend, Major Matt Jenkins. The two of them had trained together at several Illiorian Special Forces courses as part of a cooperative program put together by their respective governments, and the two of them had fought together during several campaigns, the most recent being a joint terrorist hunt in British Londinium.

“Wow, we sure got a cluster fuck on our hands here,” he said as he approached Heller, “Sir,” he quickly added as he realized that there was a General present.

“Yes we do, and who the hell are you, soldier?” Markham asked as he’d never seen the man before.

“Chris, this is Major Matt Jenkins, of the Cravanian Special Forces, Matt, what the fuck are you doing here?” Heller asked.

“Oh the usual, with the new change in regime, they decided to bolster defenses here and it seemed like you boys needed some help bolstering and ousting.” Jenkins said

“Well, we need to figure out some way to get these idiots off the Island. It’s weird, there’s a dichotomy in the population, with half being docile and ready to leave while the other half are being pains in the ass…” Markham said.

“Bah, they just need some reasoning,” Jenkins said as he pulled out his sidearm and fired into the air a few times. This immediately silenced the crowd as Jenkins grabbed the bullhorn. “Ladies and gentlemen, you’re being irrational, in this situation we do know what’s best for you. Consider the location of this Island and the enemy. Northland is at the exit of two seas on the south of Haven. Now, if our allies controlled the Axacal sea to the south west of Questers there would only be one other option, which is through the gauntlet where this Island sits. Any of you know what that means?”

“Yeah, I do,” A man yelled, “It means this island is valuable, too valuable for those we once considered allies to let stand under ‘enemy’ control, they’ll try and take the Island.”

“Exactly,” Jenkins continued, “Where you stand now is possibly one of the most strategic points and the controller of this Island in a given war could turn the outcome of any war within Haven by denying ships access or allowing them through. Now, from what I heard from my Aequatian friends when Questers attacked their Island,” Audible gasps permeated the crowd, “Yes, Questers did attack our staunch ally, and their first targets weren’t military ones at all. They were civilian targets. You know why they targeted civilians? Because they wanted to scare the island into surrendering, by getting the Aequatian government to understand that they would do whatever it took to take that Aequatian territory for something as little as their stupid merchant ship firing on an Aequatian helicopter. Think for a second here ladies and gentlemen, if the Questarians are willing to do that kind of total war for a stupid decision made by one of their merchant captains, what will they do when it comes to a strategic holding?”

He watched as people’s jaws began to drop, and a lady screamed “THEY’LL KILL US ALL!” She began shoving people out of her way, running to get her stuff and board the next transport to Illior Prime.

“BAH! THAT’S FOOKIN BUWLLSHEEIT! The Quoostairieans ould nevah dooe thaaiht toahn alliie,” one man said, and others nodded and murmured in agreement.

Jenkins could only smile as he replied, “Their allies eh? They were allied to Aequatio through two channels, the GDI and GASN, and Questers ignored both, and didn’t even consider diplomatic pressure and just flat out attacked Aequatio. Now, go home, pack and leave, that way you’ll be safe.” He said, and it seemed almost magical. The crowd began to reconsider and dispersed.

“That’s some special forces trainin’ for you,” Jenkins said as he handed Heller the bullhorn.

“Aw shut your fuckin mouth mate,” Heller replied. “You’ve always had the silver tongue.”

“That I have, and now on a more serious note, you know when we’ll get some of those new fighters you guys have been developing?” Jenkins asked

“Yeah Major,” the general replied, “They finished their final testing two weeks ago and the manufacturer is putting on a production run right now. The first several thousand units will be ready shortly, and our garrison is expecting two-hundred and fifty of each type, and your garrison I think will have the same as well. The other colonies will probably receive 500 of each, and the Illiorian carrier groups will receive their groups of the 14 shortly.”

“Well great, we got our asses covered in the air, but I doubt our naval forces can stop a concentrated attack.”

“My thinking as well Jenkins,” Heller said, “As well as Admiral Lawson’s. He’s begun the strategic mining of our waters, using CAPTOR mines and the like, so none of our ships get hurt, but then again, we’re keeping them out of the way for the moment.”

“Heh, that’s good to hear, as well as all that work your boys did down on the beaches, now no mosquito will live! YES!” Jenkins joked as he watched several of the civilians approach. “Good job men, and lady. That should’ve done the trick.”

Heller and Markham stared in amazement. “You mean, you had this little speech and reactions of yours all planned?” Markham asked.

“Of course, you think Cravna would want some of our less intelligent citizens getting their asses burnt to the 7th circle of hell? And then have to deal with the 8th through all the complaints?”

“Wow, that was some foresight,” Heller commented as the three began to walk towards Jenkins’ vehicle.

“Yeah, and by the way, what the hell was up with that flag behind that rather bangin’ chairwoman of yours?”

“YOU SHUT YOUR FUCKIN MOUTH ABOUT OUR CHAIRWOMAN!” Markham yelled and drew his sidearm, and turned the safety off as he pointed it at Jenkins’ head.

“Woa woa woa, General,” Heller said, “The man was just joking,” he said as he moved Markham’s arm down and called a private to take the general back to his helicopter. He turned back to Jenkins. “Well that was pretty fuckin’ stupid of you.”

“He overdid it, it was just a fuckin joke,” He said, and then promptly changed the subject back to the flag, “so what was it?”

“An old Illiorian myth, where Hestor carried that same standard into battle against overwhelming odds, and is the logo of the 15th Special Operations Group, known as the Wolf Archons, and her former group, and the one I’m part of now.”

“Nifty,” Jenkins said as the APC started, “I’ll see you later tonight back at the base.”

“Will do, and we gotta run our groups through the underground training scenarios again ASAP.”

“Yes we do,” He said and the APC drove off.

Boy this is gonna be one hell of a cluster fuck alright, Both Jenkins and Heller thought.

Northland

“SHIT IT’S COMIN’ DOWN! GET THE FUCK AWAY!” A worker yelled as a crane’s rope snapped and a 152mm gun smashed to the ground, hitting a truckload of cinder blocks.

“FUCK… SHIT… ASS…” the foreman yelled as he looked at the destruction… “Shit… this’ll put us back three hours.”

“That’s not that bad Mike,:” Heller said as he surveyed the construction. What he saw was astounding. Mile after mile after mile of construction equipment on the beach and the shore were turning the island into a fortress. Ten foot high cement walls were being put up, camouflaged pillboxes were being put into the edge of the nearby forests, and actual shore batteries as well. Inland, major gun batteries were being put in, guns of the 30 inch caliber, the kind used on many Super Dreadnoughts. Closer and closer to the shore, smaller and smaller batteries began to get emplaced, down to 58mm guns. Spattered in between all these were batteries of mobile 88mm AA guns. Even further messing up the areas were small automated 20-40mm guns, using a tri vision system, using RADAR to help track and shoot down missiles, IR to see the missiles as well, and then cameras for remote firing against infantry landings. All of these smaller batteries were being well concealed beneath camouflage, and to even further confuse any intelligence assets, several thousand dummy emplacements were being constructed and emplaced.

What wouldn’t be seen as it was all being done under ground; minus the small pillboxes and peep holes was an intricate system of tunnels, waiting to be filled with shells, powder propellants, replacement parts and soldiers. As well, the beaches were being mined, all along, with several small patches left unmined, but most of it filled with dragon teeth (some larger pieces in the water below the tide lines, which would be tough to find, and smaller ones closer to the tide lines, to screw over any landing craft. Fields of barbed wire were being strung out all across the beaches, going from one end to another, as fields of fire, or killzones were set up for the pill boxes, leaving but a few untouched inches for the enemy left to land on.

Out in the sea, CAPTOR mine after CAPTOR mine was being laid into the seabed, mining the territorial waters of the Joint colony, leaving barely any area left untouched. Close to fifty cutters stood broadside at the very edge of the border, but unknown to the enemy, these were all unmanned, completely automated by computers that were ready to counter missiles and aircraft.

Under the sea, several submarines were doing their own work, dropping clusters of remotely operated torpedoes, releasing cluster after cluster along the floor, camouflaged as rocks similar to that of the sea near by. Behind the Island, five Illiorian fleets began to amass, and unknown to the enemy once again, another five were moving towards the same area, but more towards Roanoke Island.

In the air, things were no different. The area around the Island had been designated a no fly zone except for allied military aircraft. AWACS aircraft prowled the sky, looking for any ships coming for them, their view stretching out far beyond the horizon, out to over 800kilometers with their high powered AESA radars, and groups of ISF-17 interceptors stayed aloft ready to deal with any threat soon to reach them. 48 Sariels were sitting on the ground, fueled, and armed with ICCMs and medium ranged AShMs, as silo after silo were being readied for immediate launch. In the air, GS-427 Bombers were waiting, their deadly cargo ready to be launched at a moment’s notice.

Back at the headquarters for the construction, Heller looked over all the plans, and the current progress of the construction. The gun emplacements were nearing their completion, as was the tunnel system that connected them all. The beach static defenses were about fifty percent done, and the mining was fully completed. He went over to the area dealing with the forced evacuations.

“Hey mike,” Heller said, “how’s it going?”

“Well… it was going well until we encountered the diehards that essentially are pro Questarian hardliners, and we had to forcibly remove them and get them counselors to watch those documentaries that got sent to us from the Aequatians.” Mike Conwil said as he looked at his computer screen. “We’ve had twenty five freighters move people’s stuff out, not to mention 100 cruise ships picking people up to move them to wherever they’re going, and even better, over 5,000 flights of GS-427’s out of airstrips, which equates to one every 18 seconds. Boy oh, those guys down there are sure getting their shit done right, as that’s been the case for the past 3 days. And with all that outflow, and our military and construction inflow, the current populace is about 500,000, and once the defenses are finished, it’ll be down to less than 250,000, unless we get another few armies to get stationed here.”

“Wow… that’s a lot to take in Mike…” Heller said, looking dazed and confused, as if he barely took any of it in. “Yeah, um… I don’t think that we’ll be getting much more in the way of troops here yet, as we’re trying to keep them dispersed so a chemical, biological or nuclear attack wouldn’t necessarily take all our men out, or even a large ICBM strike, which reminds me, I gotta run, catch ya later,” Heller said as he moved over to the space command center. “Chris, what have you got for me?” Heller asked the young blonde woman wearing glasses and a set of fatigues.

“A good bit sir. SC understands how important this island could be, so they’ve delegated several space defense groups to our area, so that means about 500 BP sats, 50 missile platforms, and maybe ten rod drivers, which is rather decent, but if we get more than a few thousand ICBM’s, I can’t say how much we’ll be able to handle. With some help from the boys in the Air force, I can reasonably say that we can take out most, but we could be hit just as bad. I’m working on getting more rod drivers and missile platforms, but that may take some time.” She finished as she clacked away at her keyboard.

“Not bad, and for detection?” Heller asked

“Well, I got several weather satellites reverted to us, so we’ll be able to predict the weather ahead of time, but it will be stormy in about a month, which is when they might think of striking, which’ll give our boys on the ground some help with the landing craft. I also got some IR satellites for the uplinks, and some other television satellites, with their own active protection suites, but I need more in the way of anti-QC satellites.” She finished.

“I’ll see what I can do Chris,” Heller said as he walked away to his APC to head to his “home”, a converted mansion to army headquarters, for the night, realizing that tomorrow he’d have to get his boss to pull as many strings as humanly possible.

Outside The Generic Empire

The subs that had been stationed there, began to move, moving away from The generic empire at full speed. The Tichy class subs sprinted ahead, using a sprint and recover tactic to get to their new destination as soon as possible. The other Bloch class SSNs worked their way full steam, going 24 hours a day. Their destination: Southern Haven.

3 months ago Haven Falls, Illior Prime
“Well what the fuck is this about John?”

“The government needs a few favors.”

“What kind of favors?”

“We know that you’re sending a shipment of those new fighters to the Cravanian colonies.”

“Yeah, so what/”

“I need you to send them in a few more ships.”

“What you sending?”

“Oh, several hundred large boxes of stuff.”

“What will I get in return?”

“The usual.”

“Sounds Good”


3 Weeks ago, Outside Carpanthium Haven

“Hey, What the fuck are these boxes?” A Cravanian customs official asked.

“A special delivery for Colonel Mark Johnson.”

“Oh, I’ll notify him that his shipment is here.”

SIC:

Secret Diplomatic Communique

http://i181.photobucket.com/albums/x204/Sgt-Alex/OfficialSealTWSP.gif
To: Illior
From: The World Soviet Party

Following with our policy of neutrality in the upcoming NATO-Questerian Commonwealth conflict, we couldnt avoid noticing that your fleets, while certainly impressive, are not powerful enough for a sustained combat (not to mention full naval combat with bigger vessels).
Anyways, I have been told, by the Soviet Goverment, to make you an offer you and your people might find interesting, that is, providing your navy with some quality ships, specially designed to take down bigger, more powerful (and more importantly, more expensive) enemy boats.
Thus, we would be willing to offer you, with a discount taking into consideration your total war status, a good number of Bergstein Class Light Frigates (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12331908&postcount=41), seeing as this ship is... flexible to say the least, capable of being adapted to carry and fire most of today's anti-shipping missiles, which we understand you possess in big numbers.

We await your response, be it negative or positive, looking forward to making our nation-to-nation relationships better.

Signed,
Nathan Andrets, TWSP's Armed Forces Commander.

OOC: Yes, I am aware it is the same letter I sent Northford, but hey, it's bussiness =p

Dock 47, Millingston, Carpanthium

"Colonel, glad you could make it on such short notice.", a customs official shouted from the deck of the Illiorian container ship. Already being offloaded were a number of the deadliest aircraft ever conceived, the ISF-14 and ISF-15, courtesy of Illiorian Arms and paid for by His Imperial Majesty's government.

"Yeah, so what did you need me to come see?"
"There's some big boxes up here, with a gift card with your name on it."
"Really? I'll be right up.", the colonel replied, making speed up the boarding ramp which connected the pier to the vessel. Upon reaching the deck, he nodded to a number of Illiorian crewmen who were off to the side, and joined the customs official.

"Colonel, please follow me to the hold."

The two ventured down into the ship, where almost three hundred massive crates with "Fragile" and "Highly Dangerous" plastered on almost every inch of their exteriors.
"The hell is this?", the Colonel asked, with some anticipation. "Get me a crowbar, will ya?"

The Customs officer immediate handed Colonel Johnson a crowbar, and he set to work prying the end of one of the crates nearby off. Soon enough, he exposed the contents of the box, and his eyes lit up almost immediately. For before him sat one of the most powerful weapons of naval warfare ever imagined. Johnson removed his government-issue cell phone from his pocket, calling in to his aides who had remained on the pier.

"Sergeant, we're going to need trucks. Lots of fucking trucks. Big mother fucking trucks."
"Whysat, sir?", came the reply.
"Because. Khan missiles don't transport themselves."

TO: The World Soviet Party
FROM: Illiorian Department of the Armed Forces

Dear Miss,
Be glad that I understand that was solely a sales pitch calling the Illiorian Armed Forces Naval Branch "not powerful enough for a sustained combat (not to mention full naval combat with bigger vessels)". The whole of the navy was calling for the complete annihilation of The World Soviet Party naval forces as a show that they are indeed powerful enough for sustained combat and to show The World Soviet Party that their frigate is really no match for any decent naval force. You're lucky. The Chairwoman of the INGC on the other hand is much more accepting, and thanks you for giving the Navy a rallying cry, "TWSP IS PHAIL."

Have a nice day

[signed]

General Chris Markham