NationStates Jolt Archive

TREAT YOUR OWN WITH RESPECT
Soldiers of the Glorious IQA! You are here in Tyrandis to wage war on the enemies of the Imperium. But Tyrandis, while being one of our most worthy strategic targets, is not neccessarily our enemy. They are not NATO pirates, or decadent Allaneans, or murderous Freeks. You will find the Tyrandisian is very much like the Questarian. Treat him with the respect deserved from a prosperous and great nation like Tyrandis. In victory, magnaminity. - Questarian leaflet dropped over Tyrandisian lines

Gholgothan Sea Somewhere
HIQMS NAGATO
13th July, 1951

Fleet Admiral Chuichi Higashiyama was damn proud of himself. He had been promoted to one the most prestigious tasks in the Navy - taking the fight to Gholgoth itself, and serving under him, Admirals Tanaka and Endo, two of hte greatest Questarian generals and war heroes. The best commanders were handpicked to fill the best crews in the fleet's best ships for this mission, and with little wonder, given the task at hand. His flagship was the mightiest ship in the Navy that wasn't an aircraft carrier, and in any case he had under his command 25,000 of the best pilots and planes the Navy could offer, again neccessary for the task at hand. It was the strongest naval task force the nation had ever assembled, and some could claim the strongest the world had ever seen, because it had one single mission:

Naval superiority of the Gholgoth region.

Almost impossible. But if there was one nation that could and would strive to do such a thing, it could be Questers, and its equally navally strong allies Praetonia who would soon join the fray. The first task at hand was winning battles, no matter the size of them. Morale was much needed at home and abroad to show that Questers could infact emerge victorious. Which is one reason why Tyrandis was chosen, because the Admiralty expected any naval battle there to be won. Furthermore, Tyrandis was one of the most feared aerospace producers around, so either neutralising/damaging this capacity or at least bringing Tyrandisian planes home would be beneficial to the Empire. And of course, its Army was one of the weakest in Gholgoth. Tyrandis's concentration on air power had led it to be a prime target in the upcoming fight. And of course, Automagfreek would be the prime target. They were, after all, the prime target of the war (as well as removing NATO threats from Haven) and landing on them would be a difficult task, but one that was neccessary. Not just to win the war, but to show the honour of the Questarian people. Unlike countless other nations that had chosen the path of war with AMF, the Questarians fully intended to bring the fight to Dreadfire and his nation.

So it was, that Tyrandis, far on the edge of Gholgoth, would be the first target of the gigantic fleet; they would land troops and dispatch a task force to guard the landings, then proceed onwards, to AMF, and to victory.

[OOC: Sorry this post is small, but I'll be skirmishing with Tyr before I start to bring the fight to Gholgoth proper. So there's not much to say here as I'll be arranging things with him over IRC before I come and land on the beaches of AMF itself.]

Cliffs of Gholgoth.
Crimmond Provincial Lands

Gar the Executioner, a being that could only be described as a protective spirit of Gholgoth, watched Marines and Troopers set up artillery, pillboxes and rocket platforms. He noticed that none of them seemed to want to come within ten feet of the warlord. He would normally take that as a compliment. Not today, however. There was a great battle to be fought soon. "Major."

A man stepped up to Gar. "Yes, Warlord?"

"Strategically, is this coastal area likely to be a target for an enemy fleet?"

"It depends on the fleet and it's objectives, but Crimmond's holdings hold no large strategic value beyond a foothold in Gholgoth. Pantera is close enough to see the mountain peaks. They are much more likely to be attacked than us. We prepare even still."

"Thank you, Major. That is all I needed to hear..."

Sometime in the next several minutes, the Warlord vanished. When and where to, the troops couldn't say. Gar had decided that his Hunting Grounds were safe enough in the hands of the Crimm. Now, he thought, was a good time to pay a visit to the Reavers...

===========

CSS Nod
En route to Gholgoth

Chimola Amin, the Butcher, stood above the flightdeck of the supercarrier and watched aircraft launch. There were reports of a large fleet heading towards Gholgoth. Of course, such reports came in all the time and most of the fleets altered course long before infringing on Gholgothian waters. If this was an attack, the battlegroup the Nod was with would not reach Gholgoth until a good 12 hours after that fleet arrived. There was another Crimm battlegroup already there, of course... but the Vladimir's battlegroup was smaller than the Nod's. Eight cruisers, seven frigates, five missile ships, three assault ships and six attack submarines.

Of course, there were approximately 300 submarines, less than half of Crimmond's submerged fleet, on their way. Because of positions, they would arrive nearly randomly. Chimola estimated that there were probably 100 of them in or around Gholgothian waters already. Enough to provide a nuisance, but not enough to severely hamper the enemy, unless effectively employed.

"It stinks in here."

Castellan Amber Fotheringown pulled at her lip and studied the unit markings on the giant map display once more. The video links all showed very nervous Ministers and Commanders with ashtrays and trails of smoke rising into the ceiling.

Of course, some semblance of order was returning and an overall collective sigh of relief had gone up all over the nation:

They were not the first target.

Information was sketchy, but the sonar readings were very faint: A large enemy formation was sailing nearby, but not towards Adejaani itself. Where, though, was an entirely different issue. Amber stared some more at the maps until her eyes burned. Action was needed.

"Marshall Black, what are we going to do now?"

The tall, dark skinned Marshall frowned and stroked his beard. He had been motivated and given his blessing by the so called God of Operations, Commander Kuroshima: Play it like how you would play it, not like how you feel I would play it.

"Denial." Black said simply, as if that one word would be all the explanation necessary. "Whichever way they go, we play the denial card. We have the home turf advantage. We go for attrition. If we deny them their foothold, whilst whittling the Questarian forces down, we'll win by default.

"Our lines of communication and resupply are shorter. We fight them back enough to stalemate and our reinforcements then arrive faster than they can. Generally, we'll deploy whatever forces we can to blunt their attacks from land, sea and air."

Then Black's face fell. "Of course, this all assumes a simple, conventional war. That also assumes they don't break our backs, lines of communications or sweeping our Fleets from the seas."

Amber nodded. "And, I assume, Omaha is still on full alert. 'Cause if we lose that, then we're screwed. Right. Once we know where the Questarian Fleet is headed, we'll deploy accordingly. But tell me, Marshall. What are the plans if one of their allies decide to open a separate front?"

Black shrugged. "Then... We have to start praying. Our counterattack plan basically is all or nothing. We only hold back as much as Fortress Adejaani calls for, with the rest sailing forth on attack. If we or someone else gets hit, it's going to get awfully lonely."

"Frak me." Amber groaned. Everyone else remained silent. "We've done all we can do. It's their move."

So, it begins.....

Azrael's intelligence offices had been monitoring even the slightest movement of the Questarian navy since tensions boiled over, and word had finally been sent that the enemy was now moving. Azrael knew that Automagfreek would be the primary target of the Questarians, for the Empire was the largest roadblock standing in their path and represented the greatest threat. It was in the middle of the night that the alarms had been rasied across Automagfreek, and a united contingent of Sentinels, Freeks, Fallen, and Death Dealers began gathering their equipment and heading to their designated posts. Having been stationed in nearby cities for months already, they would arrive at their pre-constructed fortifications within hours. Though Dreadfire was still overseas destroying the Doomani, Azrael was more than confident in the armed forces of the Empire, for even with Damien, Zander, and Brinks predisposed, there was still an unholy amount of military power available across the most militarized nation on the planet.

At the farthest reached of Freekish territorial waters, scores of ships began screening the waters and unloaded hundreds of CAPTOR, Iceberg, and Volcano mines in large nets. The sheer variety and number of mines being deployed would be enough to slow the Questarians down for possibly days on end, allowing a prolonged, joint attack to inflict exponentially more damage. Freekish submarines had been positioned in strategic locations throughout the seas, though they could move about the waters freely due to the friend-or-foe detection systems that were standard in all Freekish sea and land mines. The few thousand ships that remained in Automagfreek were deployed to the AMF-Panteran straight, as well as the straights between Freeksburg Island and the Forbidden Isle, and the Forbidden Isle and Mako Island.

Heavy Stratobombers began circling the entire island like vultures waiting to strike out with heavy anti-shipping missiles, and their Stratosfighter and newly produced Stratosfighter II counterparts would serve as the first aerial line of defense. The world famous Freekish air defense grid was then fully activated, bringing to live thousands of SAM and SmartFlak batteries, as well as the additional weapons and detection systems that were linked into the defense network. On the beaches all across Automagfreek, helicopters and armored trucks began shooting millions of scatterable mines across the sands from their mine pods, placing giant fields of anti-personnel and anti-tank mines in mere seconds. The larger ordnance was laid down not only on the beaches, but several miles inland across key routes likely to be taken by the enemy forces if they managed to successfully drive ashore, while the smaller, sugar packet sized mines were scattered in the tens of millions across strictly the beaches. These tiny devices were not designed to kill, but instead to maime by blowing toes off and creating gaping wounds in the feet of those unfortunate enough to trigger them. Slowly, gradually over the course of the next few days the winds would cover these death traps with a thin veils of sand and allow them to sit undected.

But these efforts were dwarfed by the deployment of countless ICCM's, designed to deliver a fatal blow at maximum range. Since The Empire of the Golden Throne had joined NATO, Automagfreek gained access to the munitions sold within Kreigzimmer, of which large orders had been placed for the leathal Khan anti-shipping missile, along with Sledgehammer II's. The domestically made FAW-2A Porcupine missile had proven its worth in the war with Doomingsland by heavily damaging the Praetonian made Sarius Rex to the point of near impotency, as well as heavily damaging the ships of the Doomani navy. These munitions had been made in near ridiculous numbers, and soon the massive stockpiles would be put into action.

Though perhaps the greatest asset that would be put into play were the men on the ground and the guns they wielded. The gigantic 'Devil's Fingers' had on Freeksburg Island had been critical in staving off multiple invasions during Operation: Hellfire, and since then their numbers had grown exponentially. Hidden within mountain caverns and affixed to elaborate mounts, the 40" cannons would fire rocket assisted, GPS guided rounds that were deadly enough to sink a smaller sized ship with a single round. These behemoths were backed up by litters of 35, 30, 25, and 20 inch guns, and going all the way down to 155mm. The more agile mobile artillery platforms would be able to sound off every few seconds and create a massive blanket of fire that would make landing near impossible. But for the grunt who now prepared for the onslaught, the mere thought of killing and defiling Questarians on their own soil made them near giddy.

But something was amiss, for the Questarians were not on a course to assault Automagfreek either directly or indirectly. From what intelligence officers gathered, it appeared that the enemy was instead concentrating their efforts on other portions of Gholgoth. But Azrael did not order a halt to the military preparations, but instead began getting in touch with joint Gholgothan command and began formulating a repsonse to the Questarian threat.

The Palisade, somewhere underneath Aequatius Prime

The Aequatian Republic's top military and political leaders has since moved to the massive underground facility once the low-level observation satellites of the National Reconnaissance Office, with the support of nearly every other intelligence agency and strategic defence force, had started tracking the Questarian Royal Navy vessels once their course brought them close to Gholgothic waters. President Holden Reid stood at the corner of what was dubbed "the War Room" for its Cold War design, seemingly lifted from the art director's sketchbook from Dr. Strangelove, as he looked at the monitors which displayed the enemy on its screens. Imaging devices had managed to remove the humanity from the enemy, no longer were you watching the men of a foreign army or navy move about, but merely targets, in the sterile modern world, it was required to undertake such horrific tasks such as murdering thousands while at the same time signing documents which sent your countrymen to the same fate.

General-in-Chief, a temporary wartime rank, Krist Von Mann, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, interrupted the president's silent witness of the monitors, "Sir, it's the Freeks, they want to start discussing measures against the QRN fleet that's closing on Tyrandis," The general was an older man now, in the glory days of the past, he would have joined his men on the battlefield, leading from the back of an armoured vehicle or jeep, seeing the enemy through field binoculars and smelling the stench of combat, it was now that his rank and prestige that saved him from such an honour and danger, leading the armies and fleets of the Republic from a hidden-away bunker.

"Our Naval Chief of Staff has been speaking with the Ardans, correct?" Asked Reid as he lit a cigarette, savouring the taste as he turned to the white-haired general for a response.

"That is correct, sir," He replied, "Fleet Admiral Berger has spoken with their commanders briefly about fleet movements, but nothing more."

"What have we been doing with all of this time provided to us since they declared their intentions months ago?" Asked the president angerly, "Do we even have any forces remaining overseas in the region?"

"No, sir, our forces were only deployed to Automagfreek in the beginning, to bolster their numbers until they could build up before we brought them back home," Explained Von Mann, "Since then all of our branches have been ramping up in training and equipment familiarization in the recent build-up of arms."

"Is anything ready for action, or are they all still training?" Reid questioned once again, his face turning a hue of crimson as blood vessels filled with their trademark liquid.

"The army is prepared for their territorial duties and have been working on building up fortified positions along the West coast of Prime and defensive positions throughout Secundus and Neo. The Air Force has done the same, preparing for a purely defensive role, although they have prepared reports for 'strike' readiness," Explained the general as he noticed the president's cringe at the word 'strike,' every Aequatian president was well aware of the horrors of a nuclear exchange after the deployment of SS-18, or Satan as NATO had labeled them in those dark years, missiles against the nation of Federban and witnessing twenty five million perish over six months on the news, no leader wished that responsibility, "Although they are able to run naval interdiction against the QRN combat vessels and supply lines."

"That's all well and good, friend, but that will only protect us from harm, not our allies," Said Reid as he crushed out his cigarette into an ashtray, "We need to show the rest of Gholgoth that we are actually part of this fucking region and not some invisible island chain."

"Fleet Admiral Berger and General Singer of the ARMC have provided the JCS with reports that they can be ready to project power to anywhere in the region in order to fight against the Questarians, both during and after an amphibious landing, although they are reserving such operations for when the fleets reach Automagfreek. They have called for what they call, 'the Freek buffer' in which the strength of the Questarians is lost in the attrition of combat against the Freekish military inland and at sea, at that point we simply sweep what remains aside, of course, this is all theoretical, as we may not even be needed for such an operation with the likes of Automagfreek and Pantera already in the fight. They can handle the Questarians sufficiently without outside support, if anything, we should be helping the Commonwealth to make it a fair fight."

Even Reid could not help himself from laughing at that small piece of humour, as so much of it had been lost on people with the lack of sleep and paranoia concerning the coming onslaught. For now, the Aequatians would sit and watch as their region was invaded, knowing full well they would not be needed to repel the enemy.

http://img258.imageshack.us/my.php?image=untitledaz9.png
Poster, circa 20XX, Dept. of Media Relations

Gholgothan Sea Somewhere
TSN HANABIRA
13th July, 20XX

Admiral Kouta Fujimoto stretched out his arms wearily on the bridge of his enormous Yorktown-class supercarrier. He'd spent more than fifty six years in the Tyrandis Federal Naval Service, and the time had long passed for him to retire from duty. The septuagenarian was suffering all of the ravages of old age, as evidenced in his stooped back and a burning in the pit of his stomach that only went away with copious quantities of rice liquor in the morning. His body had decayed by the passage of time, as was natural - his ship was similarly vulnerable to the inexorable force of entropy. Desperate repairs and refits to the more than three-decade old ship had kept it in frontline service where it did its duty as flagship of the 9th Carrier Battle Group and Task Force WAKIZASHI faithfully for so long. As a vessel of war, the TSN HANABIRA was a rusted hulk of bygone days, much like its commander.

Fujimoto snorted in disgust. Ever since the Force-XXI "reforms" instituted by high and mighty powers that-be in TCENTCOM, the newly-constituted Tyrandis Federal Naval Service had been... emasculated. The old fleet officer reached for a hip flask and took a long swig. The alcohol dulled the senses. It was his one comfort, and kept him from the teetering precipice of enduring seppuku from the shame of it all. Back in the days of the Imperial Tyrandis Naval Force, the sea arm of the country was feared and honored for its ability to project an awesome level of firepower through sheer mass. The ITNF commanded respect and awe with its battleships bristling with shining large bore guns. Now all of that was gone, despite the remonstrations of his fellow senior commanders. The grandeur of the old guard had given way to mass decommissioning, until only a shadow of the ITNF remained. This was the new TFNS, stretched so thin that it could do little more than ensure the integrity of Tyrandisan waters. Now the only observers who cared about the dilapidated force were besides themselves with heckling laughter.

The admiral sighed resignedly as he looked across the warm, tropical seas. The Militaristic Federation, for all of its fiery rhetoric and posturing, had remained oddly quiet ever since the initiation of hostilities between the Questarian Commonwealth and its allies in NATO and the Gholgoth region. Rumors said this was out of reluctance to offend parties on the other side that Tyrandis maintained normal, if not cordial relations with. Fujimoto felt his blood boil. Back in the golden age, he would have been dispatched with a massive force of capital ships to exterminate the ruffians - but as the gutting of his beloved Imperial Navy proved, he and his breed were made obsolete by the rise of the politicos, the diplomats, the talkers. As it was, CENTCOM wasn't utterly deluded - they had ordered 9th Fleet, along with the rest of Task Force WAKIZASHI's assets, to engage in massive, large-scale exercises in the Gholgothan Sea in a show of force and solidarity with Tyrandis's allies and brothers. Eight hundred ships, with a complement of slightly less than 7,000 aircraft, lay in this amalgation of naval strength - nearly one quarter of the nation's available naval tonnage. But nothing had come of this, for months. Fujimoto hoped to prove the value of his branch by delivering a massive blow to the invaders who dared violate the sanctity of regional waters. Nothing had happened. The fatigue of sheer boredom was wearing on his men, and it showed clearly. Only the sailors and airmen responsible for the antisubmarine warfare and AWACS/BARCAP perimeters had any life to their step; most lounged about in quarters reading contraband skin mags or talking trash about their commanding officers.

The admiral ran a hand over his wrinkled face. Today looked like another waste of taxpayer dollars running simulated attacks and drills against an enemy that would never materialize. At least the skies were overcast - at his stage in life, too much sunlight made his head ache, though his pilots would suffer a little from reduced visibility. He didn't care though. Arrogant bastards, sneered Admiral Fujimoto to himself. Just then, an aide came to his side, bearing a sealed message stamped "TOP SECRET - EYES ONLY" in red block letters.

Fujimoto took the envelope with gnarled fingers and left to his private quarters, where he took an ornate letter-opener that lay next to a photo of his grandchildren on his desk. He cracked the message open with the stiletto, and turned to read it after putting away the blade in a drawer.


*FLASH* *FLASH* *FLASH*
FROM: TCENTCOM
TO: CO, 9TH FLT, TSN HANABIRA
ENCRYPTION GRADE: SHIROI

MESSAGE AS FOLLOWS

OPFOR CONTACT MADE 12 JULY AT 0300 ZULU STOP EST OPFOR FLT TO BE AT GRID COORD 50 00 S, 121 40 E STOP OPFOR FLT BELIEVED TO BE QUESTARIAN IN ORIGIN STOP COMPOSITION EST BY TNIA ANALYSIS TO BE SIGNIFICANT STOP CORRELATION OF FORCES BELIEVED NEGATIVE IN EXTREME STOP 9TH FLT ORDERED TO PROCEED TO GRID COORD 60 00 S, 133 20 E ON INTERCEPT VECTOR STOP STANDBY FOR ADDITIONAL ORDERS STOP

The old admiral's eyes bugged after he finished reading the communique. The waiting game was over, and his 9th Fleet was going to be right in the thick of it fighting against the invaders. Already, he could envision the splendid little battle, where he would triumph over the upstart aggressors and bring glory to the derided TFNS in a decisive engagement. He penned out notes and diagrams of his prospective battleplan, which would play to Tyrandisan advantages in aviation and pre-positioning while trying to mitigate the quantitative edge the IQN held in spades. In his mind's eye, he could see it all, the command and control personnel of his own ship coordinating the full firepower of Task Force WAKIZASHI in an intricate dance that would leave the Questarians dead in the water. He smiled for the first time in months. He would restore the pride of the Tyrandis Federal Naval Service, or he would die trying.

"They're here."

Two simple words, but the connotation they brought with them was a heavy one. The message was greeted by two weary eyes, sunk into a weary face.

Jaime Wolfe licked his lips, but the action brought with it no moisture. He looked down at his desk again. He had, of course, known all along that they would be coming, but it had not stopped his desire to see this war averted, to see the Questarians stand down. The desire not to see millions of people die needless deaths.

The military hardliners would tell him that 'their deaths aren't meaningless' or 'this war serves a purpose', and he could see their points and their arguments. But beside those points, he could also see that despite the need for this war from a geopolitical standpoint, it would lead to millions of deaths, most likely civilians and soldiers alike. Whether needless or not, it was a sure fact that some people who deserved to live would die. And Harakians would be among them.

All these thoughts flashed through his mind in the half second between the message and his response, and he opened his mouth to reply to the aide that had delivered the message. "Get me the heads of all three services, as well as my senior cabinet, in meeting room one by one o'clock. Oh, and get Admiral Tyrell and General Shartz as well."

"Yes sir." The aide turned on his heel and walked quickly out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Jaime sighed and rested his forehead on his hands. In half an hour he would have to present a strong face to the war cabinet, and after that to the nation as a whole, and then to parliament where he would very quickly pass a bill, using the Social Democrats' majority to put through a bill about military spending and reserve mobilization as quickly as possible. He stifled a yawn and rolled his neck. It had been some time since he had to deal with a situation such as this. It was almost enough to make him feel young again.

*

Jaime entered the room at five minutes after one, the last to arrive. Every set of eyes in the room turned to look at him, from the politicians at the far end of the table to the military officers at the near end. He walked around the table slowly, pulling his chair out and sitting down in silence. He leaned back, resting his forearms on the chair's armrests placidly. "We've all seen the intel," he said. "A massive Questarian fleet is on its way to the Gholgothan Sea with the intent to destroy Gholgothan naval power. A daunting task, to be sure, especially given the sheer size and deployable might of such Gholgothan nation as Illior, Automagfreek, or, yes, Haraki. But if anyone believes that they can do it, it's the Questarians. And, of course, their Praetonian allies. But let's not forget that they are divided, with large forces deployed to Haven to counter NATO movements there. We are not, and we outnumber them in every way possible. I have no doubt as to our eventual victory. How we reach that victory is another matter entirely. I want input. Go."

Admiral Roger Blaine, Haraki's Chief of the Navy, spoke up next. "We've reached an all-time deployment high of naval forces, and have been restricting long-range patrols recently in favour of keeping ships at easily deployable bases along the Harakian coast and in Neo- and New Haraki. We can easily muster a fleet to rival that of any other Gholgothan power deploying to stop the Questarians, and I'm fairly certain we can hold our own as part of a multinational Gholgoth or NATO fleet. If we were a main target in this war, I would worry about the defence of our colonies and far-flung naval bases, both of which are lacking the kind of defence I'd really like to give them. But we're not a major target, so we don't really need to worry about that. I'm slightly worried about the protection of several of our patrols currently at sea. We have, on three separate patrols, the escort carrier Chariot, light carriers Phalanx and Hoplite, and fleet carriers Parthia and Revolver, as well as several heavy cruisers and the battlecruiser Taurus. If Questers tries to pick off Gholgothan naval power piecemeal at sea, it's quite possible these patrols could find themselves in trouble. I've issued orders already for all three patrols to make their way to the nearest naval base and from there to the nearest major colony, to join the defensive fleets there."

"Good," Jaime responded. "Do you have any idea where the Questarian fleet is heading? I've just seen the pictures, and I'm not the most naval-oriented one at the table."

Blaine turned to his left, towards Admiral Steven Tyrell, the commander of the Harakian Third Fleet, recalled from Generia for the defence of Gholgoth. "Steven, I believe you have done the most intensive study on that subject."

Tyrell smiled slightly. "As commander of the Third Fleet, I've gotten some thinking done on this subject. If they're going for the Freeks or the Panterans, they're going the wrong way and they're at the wrong angle. Unless they're trying to throw us off the scent by putting a dog-leg in their course and making their way for Automagfreek, I don't think the Freeks are their target, which is strange given the pre-war posturing. Given current trajectory, I have to be honest, I think the most likely target is Tyrandis."

"Thank you, Steven," Blaine said with a slight nod. "My analysts, given the limited amount of time they've had to work on this, concur with Admiral Tyrell's statements. At least for the time being, Tyrandis seems the most likely target."

"Thanks, Roger. All right, everyone, I'd like some ideas on what we can do to oppose a landing on Tyrandis or a dog-leg back toward the Freekish coast. Steve, is the Third Fleet ready for deployment to oppose a Questarian advance through the Gholgothan Sea?"

"We were set up to oppose a landing against Automagfreek, and the entire Third Fleet is deployed with the multinational Gholgothan force there. I can order a move south around the cape towards the Tyrandisan fleet, but I don't think that would be a smart move unless we have other Gholgothan support. I doubt the Third Fleet alone, even with Tyrandisan support, could take on the Questarian fleet, not with the kind of numbers we're seeing them deploy."

"What reinforcements could you give the Third Fleet? The First is active, I know that, and that makes the Second depleted and partly redundant. But the First is still deployed to the west of the Freek and Panteran isles, making it slightly delayed in time to reinforce the Third Fleet."

"Roger?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I want you to order the First Fleet to reinforce the Third, which will in all likelihood be deployed to support Tyrandisan defences or oppose a dog-leg manoeuvre against the Freeks. I want the First Fleet to take up the Third's position as part of the Gholgothan fleet in the east. And I want someone to get on a line with joint Gholgothan command and see just what everyone else is doing."

The door was opened gently and an aide stuck his head in. "Sirs," the aide said, slightly timidly, not knowing which of those in the room to address personally. "Er ... we've been requested to communicate to co-ordinate joint Gholgothan manoeuvres to counteract the Questarian advance. By Azrael of Automagfreek."

Jaime stood up. "Then this meeting is over. I want us to confer with the other Gholgothan leaders and see about sending a multi-nation fleet down to oppose the Questarians. If this happens, I want the Third Fleet to make up Haraki's contribution, and I want the First Fleet to take over as part of whatever forces are left defending Automagfreek. Meeting adjounred."

"...Yes, M'lord. Coastal defenses continue to thicken. We've got a veritable forest of AA installations and Anti-Shipping Missiles scattered all along the eastern range of the mainland. We've got Carrier Fleets One through Four deployed to the..."

The Evenstar tuned the general out, having heard it all a dozen times in the past week. Fleets readied, aircraft fueled and awaiting orders to fly. High-altitude bombers and fighters, even unmanned but heavily armed drone-craft. Below the waves were many Crim-built subs, deployed in a wide screen on all sides of Gholgoth, with a large number waiting in the Blood Bay to deploy across the region as needed.

Mines were being laid in thick swathes from the far side of Braavos westward, nearly to the shores of Pantera itself. A myriad of types of mines were being used, as the Panteran defenders were taking a page from Azrael's book. A nuisance for commercial shipping, to say the least, but a long northward detour was well-worth the added irritation for any enemy coming from the east.

The only difference in hearing it was that, now, the bastards had come. And, laughably, they were already making a dire mistake. Harakian analysts had suggested that Questers would hit Tyrandis first. Tyrandis? Why strike an arm of Gholgoth when they could hit the heart?

The thought made the Lord Reaver smile. The answer was simple: They were afraid. An assault on Automagfreek or even Pantera was far beyond their capabilities. Their initial invasion would be shredded, morale at home would wither, and they would be toppled by their own people. Far better, instead, to squabble on the peripherals of Gholgoth, claim major victories where none existed, and cement public opinion.

For the moment, Reaver ground forces were left waiting. Plans were waiting to 'leap-frog' men and material across Gholgoth by chopper and plane to any threatened nation in the region, but until the fun and fireworks began, they would wait.

Snowlander had known that his nation would not be hit first, if at all. The strategic value of their nation combined with it's massive defense network made it a fool's errand to capture. But the Havenic cowards were now going after Tyrandis, an old ally.

Snowlander wished that he could do more, but at the time, without a proper navy, all he could do was send troops and supplies when they were needed. He'd die before he saw a brother of Gholgoth fall to an enemy.

He knew, spread across his great nation, millions of troops waited, hoping they would be sent to fight alongside their brothers in battle. They were all battle tested, the rebellion having been crushed just recently, and now looked forward to spilling foreign blood.

The coming battles would bring great honor.

Admiral Afanasi Demyanov stepped onto the bridge of his flagship, the massive Imperial “Alexei” class supercarrier Empress Anja. The vessel was new, only a year old, and like much of Fleet Admiral Georg Stekov’s “New Generian Navy” it had never been tested under enemy fire. The ship had been commissioned to provide cover against Doomani invasion in the Freudian Gulf, but with that threat lingering as Freekish forces waged brutal war on Maximus’s own territory, the ship had been placed at the head of an Imperial naval expeditionary force being sent from the waters of the CAD continent to those of Gholgoth. 300 ships of the Imperial Generian Navy, including 2 Apophis-class super-dreadnaughts purchased from The Warmaster and a dozen other smaller Generian heavy battleships of the “Emperor Tiberius” class were being sent to the defense of Generia’s regional allies, now under fire from the Questarian navy.

Admiral Demyanov reflected on this as he watched the empty horizon, lighting a cigarette absent mindedly. Why should the Empire go to war against a nation with whom she had no personal quarrel? What was it to Generia that the Questarians wanted to flex their muscles? Even if the integrity and defense of the Gholgoth regional alliance was cited, the Freeks and the Panterans were certainly more than capable of standing up on their own, without Imperial intervention. For Demyanov, the real threat remained Doomingsland, and undertaking actions abroad when Doomingsland remained a free and sovereign state was foolish and a waste.

It had been a great honor to be given command of the 1st fleet, and sent off to do battle with the world’s most renowned naval power, but still there was lingering resentment at abandoning his post in the seas south of Generia and north of the Doomani coast. He was certain that at any day, Doomish warships would come sailing over the horizon to pounce on the Freudian garrisons, and when it happened he wanted to be there to personally send them with their tails between their legs.

The Emperor saw it differently, however, as did Fleet Admiral Nys’ky, and he had been reassigned. There was no dishonor in battling the forces of a corrupt pseudo-democracy that scoffed at what Generia itself represented, and there was no dishonor in serving allies who had welcomed the Empire into their midst when she had resigned from the Doomish controlled CAD alliance and been left to fend for herself. Demyanov would do his duty, and muster as much hatred for the enemy as was possible, considering that his hatred for the Doomish already occupied much of his heart.

As he extinguished the cigarette under his heel, he was approached by the vessel’s Captain, who offered a starch salute.

“Admiral Demyanov, the first carrier groups have entered Gholgothan waters. No contact yet made with enemy forces.”

Demyanov nodded.

“Very well.”

At the tip of the spear, the Carrier Dmitri prepared itself for contact with the Questarians. Carrier based variants of the brand new GIF-26 Gunslinger joint multi-role fighter, developed in conjunction with Freudotopia, prepared for launch. The large, maneuverable, and heavily-armed aircraft had been minted as a countermeasure to the Doomish airforce. Their pilots, however, would not discriminate between the Doomish and Questarian naval aviators.

Though the Empire now possessed the super-capital ships and heavy battleships that made the navies of the great powers, it was her carriers like this one and the naval airforce that would win her battles at sea. This had been the design of Fleet Admiral Stekov, the visionary who was transforming the Empire’s navy from a thing of ridicule into a true arm of the Generian military, as worthy of respect as her feared Army.

As the Gunslingers scrambled, in conjunction with GIB-11n naval bombers, Admiral Demyanov lit another cigarette, and waited.

Gardens of the Seastone Palace
Pantera

A mist rolled through the gardens, like the mist surrounding waterfalls, without the falls. It passed quickly, leaving various damp gardeners and whatever visitors there were staring at a being right out of their own fairy tales.

He ignored the workers and approached the nearest guards. He spoke to them in their own language, with a few archaic variations. "I am The Taker, Protector of Vrun Dryath. I am here to speak to Dayne the Evenstar on the goings of this war."

==========

CSS Vladimir
Gholgoth Regional Waters

The carrier's deck rose and fell slowly and tilted as the ship turned. The battle group was breaking it's patrol route on orders from the capitol. Rather than cruise to intercept the approaching fleet, it cruised northeast, heading towards AMF and Pantera.

According to the communique, Omar Pace, leader of the Brotherhood, thought the attack wasn't what it seemed. The whole battlegroup was to move directly east of the straights between AMF and Pantera and hold position until new orders come in or targets present themselves.

However, the whole of Gholgoth would be patrolled by the Supremacies, which were approximately 180 strong as of the sending of the communique.

Krist Heart Memorial International Airport, Arrio, Aequatius Prime

Army General Herbert Schwarz, the commanding officer of the Aequatian Republic Army's Training and Doctrine Command, peered out the window of the black Army executive car into the city streets of Arrio and remembered his own childhood. He would be leading a group of other high ranking officers from the Aequatian Republic Navy, Air Force and Marine Corps to Automagfreek as part of Joint Task Force: Purple Velvet, a combined-service operations and intelligence cadre created by the Aequatian Joint Chiefs of Staff as the Aequatian contribution to the war effort against the Questarian Commonweallth.

The joint task force was created out of the realization by General-in-Chief Von Mann and the other Chiefs that any physical contribution to the "boots on the ground" would be mere spit into the sea compared to what could be put forward by nations such as Automagfreek, Pantera or Crimmond. So it was seen as prudent to provide one of the Republic's greatest assets to the effort in the form of its Command, Control, Communications, Computers, Intelligence, Surveillance, and Reconnaissance elements, including its most accomplished general officers, such as General Schwarz.

He would be flying first to ULE City in Automagfreek in order to speak with Azrael and present to him the conceptualized Gholgothic Regional Command (REGCOM) created by the Joint Chiefs of Staff, after which General Schwarz and his staff would speak with the other military leaders in the region, including those of Arda, with the same presentation in hopes of garnering some support for the idea. Several hours later, the general and his aide-de-camp, Lieutenant-Colonel Heinrich Metzger, were aboard their C-37B Gulfstream executive aircraft en route to Freekish airspace, the Air Force pilot calling ahead to their Air Controllers for clearance and a landing vector to ULE city.

Gholgothan Sea Somewhere
HIQMS NAGATO
13th July, 1951

"Sir." A young ensign, not older than 20, approached Fleet Admiral Higashiyama and quickly let off a salute.

"Huh? Uh, at ease." Higashiyama replied.

"Sir, note from the forward picket scouts. They've picked up a Tyrandisan fleet." The ensign passed the note down to Higashiyama and the Admiral waved him away with a "dismissed", kicking his feet up on the desk of the navigation room. While most of the work went down in the control room where Higashiyama had "let" his XO take over, the navigation bridge was the traditional staging room of the Admiral at sea. Higashiyama prefered it in the pilothouse because it tended to much quieter and he could sleep there, but upon reading the message he got up to go down to the control room.

The forward scouts of the fleet were small groups of cruiser squadrons that had sent UAVs forward in every direction to probe for enemy fleets. Obviously one had picked up the Tyrandisan fleet sent to intercept the Questarians. Higashiyama was uncertain, as the initial numbers suggested a 15-20 numerical advantage of the Tyrandisans. As he made his way into the Control Room of the ship underneath its decks, the XO met him with a sharp salute and the Planning Officer, the equal of Higashiyama, met him with a nod. The Fleet Admiral strode over to the planning table where all the ships key officers were located and took a seat.

"Well gentlemen, I'd like to be briefed. Whats going on?"

"Intel has got back more information. We've got a fairly clear idea of what the Tyrandisan fleet looks like." The Intel Officer replied sharply. "Its carrier centric, of course, and about a tenth of our strength."

"Right. So, course of action. I'm thinking multiple small probing attacks with their carriers in mind?" Higayashima had already worked out the most logical course of action.

"I'd agree." The planning officer, Mikuru, said. "We'll probe and find out how strong they are before gauging a response. This is probably only a skirmish." She finished.

"OK. Typical skirmish action then?"

"I think so." There were nods from the rest of the officers too. "OK, go." Higayashima gave the order.

From the three probing cruiser squadrons; well, they weren't really squadrons, more cruiser groups, considering their size; came the opening skirmish strike. Six county class cruisers on the border opened up with their vertical launch cells, backed by a squadron of guided missile submarines. With assistance from UAVs they sent their missiles off and that was that; inertial and active RADAR would take them the rest of the way. In total, 180 SS-X-38 missiles and 144 QS-N-62 were launched and their targets were the Tyrandisan carriers; the intent of the attack was to probe the Tyrandisan's defences and establish a safe pattern of attack that could remove this fleet rather quickly. Both Higayashima and his foreign counterpart knew that the Questarian fleet was vastly larger and vastly more capable of coming out on top of a slugging match, and Higayashima fully intended to avoid such a thing, as it would be a waste of time and resources. What his enemy would do, was another matter.

Dowding Air Force Base, Aurunca, Aequatius Prime

The western coast bases and facilities of the Aequatian Republic had seen something of a lack of funding compared to their central or Secundus counterparts and thus, their structures remained very much five to ten years in the past, despite this however, the personnel manning the bases still maintained a similar level of strategic effectiveness as their more spoiled comrades, as displayed in the prepared aircraft along the tarmac.

The B-12B Vanquisher was the originally nothing more than a test bed for the systems that would be incorporated into the "improved" B-12C variant, with the latter having proved a disastrous airframe failure after several crashes, the B-12B became the new standard strategic bomber for the ARAF. The ground crews worked as they prepared the hundreds of AGM-200A Typhoon anti-shipping missiles that would be required for the coming operatons, many of them delivered by C-181A Starlifter II transports arriving from other bases around Aequatius Prime due to the poor state of the base's own stocks. The missile had proved to be effective against ships in Operation Punishment against the Tocrowkians and the design was little changed from its original form in a wise adherence to the adage, "If it ain't broke, don't fix it, stupid."

The bombers and their crews waited around the base for the call to go out for deployment, as the Questarians had only remained off Tyrandis, there was no need to send the aircraft that far to engage the enemy vessels at this time. In addition to the bombers were the KC-767A tankers and E-14A and E-14C Capricorn aircraft which would be supporting the mission with aerial refueling and command and control respectively. In addition to these combat support aircraft were also the escorts, Air Force F-28F fighters, F-28A aircraft fitted with new systems developed with the Enforcer aircraft, were advanced air superiority fighters and would prove effective against any opposition fighters.

Gholgothan Sea Somewhere
TSN HANABIRA
13th July, 20XX

The TE-2 surveillance plane cast a gimlet eye over the field of battle from its perch of twenty five thousand feet above sea level. At this altitude, the powerful rotodome-mounted RADAR set could keep a close watch in lookdown mode over a range of 650 kilometers. Contact reports of the Questarian recce UAVs were duly issued to Task Force HQ - what was unexpected was the rather large quantity of missiles as the opening shot of the engagement shortly after. The IQN tipped their hand a bit early, but they had all the cards to play regardless, with their enormous numerical advantage. But the TFNS had an ace up its sleeve, with the previous decade’s massive investments in network-centric warfare capabilities.

"AWACS Kilo-Golf reporting in sector five zero Sierra, heads up on OPFOR activity bearing two-six-three. Nightfall confirmed, vampires out, estimate contacts at three hundred fifty or more,” reported a youngish crewman as he looked through his radar scope onboard his slovenly prop plane. Hundreds of small thumbtack-sized contact markers were tracked moment by moment as soon as they left the larger blobs that were their launching ships. Unbeknownst to the monitoring officer, data from his screen was being cross referenced with all manner of telemetry and various sensors available to Task Force WAKIZASHI onboard the command ship TSN HANABIRA. From the cold reaches of distant space, scores of different intelligence-gathering satellites were momentarily turned to the Questarian launch, all tasked on this one remote patch of empty waters currently occupied by two of the largest surface forces ever assembled on the face of the earth. The last launch lit up brightly on Tyrandisan orbital infrared arrays, as they were silhouetted against the ocean and followed a rather high-altitude flight profile.

Coupled with the long-range surveillance of the TE-2 and other airborne early warning systems nearby, Admiral Fujimoto now had a perfect, almost divine view of the battlespace and its inbound threats. He didn’t like what he saw – now knowing that he was outnumbered at a ratio of at least ten to one, if not worse, he hunched over and watched tentatively on the active matrix LCD display in front of his gray eyes, as the forces under his command proceeded to deal with the Questarian cruise missiles. Projected onto the map were their estimated trajectories and flight paths, as determined by the enormous surveillance resources available to the task force’s disposal. A chill ran through his cholesterol-choked veins as he realized huge numbers of the neon-colored projectiles were headed for his own ship.

With a firm hand, Fujimoto reached above him, grabbed a radio and relayed orders to the rest of the fleet over the encrypted SINCGARS network that linked every other carrier to his. “Attention all ships,” quavered the old man, “engage in defensive maneuvers immediately. Escorts are ordered to intercept and protect their carriers at any cost.”

Like the cogs of a great, well-oiled machine, the Task Force sprang to life. Comprised of ten independent carrier battle groups, WAKIZASHI was laid out with overlapping AEGIS perimeters around each and every big flattop the Questarians were trying to kill. How they identified the flagship was beyond TFNS comprehension; perhaps it was just blind luck that they targeted the HANABIRA with so many. However, doctrine prevented ships assigned to other carriers from assisting in the defense of one under siege – nonetheless, every ship in the fleet did its part to help stem the tide. Carriers not under attack had their escorts illuminating the inbound bogies to enhance the performance of fired SAMs. As per standard doctrine, three Praetorian V SAMs were launched for each Questarian cruise missile, directed by AWACS to maximize efficiency. The gray, cold sky suddenly lit up with the intensity of hundreds of miniature explosions, raining steel debris into the salty sea below. Echoes of “intercept made” reverberated through the fleet, but there was no time for jubilation – two of the submarine launched missiles had survived the AEGIS net.

Both were aimed at TSN HANABIRA.

In a desperate effort to stop the “vampires” from drawing blood, the Yorktown’s point defense systems activated. Timely launch of multiple Rolling Airframe Missiles managed to explode one ten kilometers away from the ship, but the other…

The last thing Admiral Fujimoto saw on this earth was a rapidly expanding fireball that consumed his flesh and bones in its burning embrace. Without knowing it, without even intending it, the IQN had decapitated the Task Force in one blow. The QS-N-62 scored an enormously lucky hit, one which impacted the bridge and turned it into a screaming pit of mangled bodies and shrapnel. Firefighting crews responded quickly to the aftermath, bright red extinguishers snuffing out the embers in an orderly fashion. But it was too late; the old Admiral was little more than a charred corpse.

This outrage would not go unanswered.

Gholgothan Sea Somewhere
HIQMS NAGATO
14th July, 1951

"Ahead reconnaissance units suggest multiple impacts." The Intel Officer, Hamihiro, reported.

"Not enough detail." Higashiyama said, looking back and forth between the three others seated at the elaborate oak table. He scratched a spot on his chin and realised he hadn't shaved in several days. He should probably get around to doing that, the Admiral thought, then quickly waved away such unimportant thoughts. "What did we hit?"

Hamihiro shrugged. "I think we hit a carrier. All the signals tend to point to something large being hit, though that could be their EW trying to fuck us over."

"Right. So, now we've poked a hole, they know we're coming. Lets put up our fighters and bombers, draw out their aircraft, then hit their carriers. Disengage our fighters and let their aircraft run outa fuel." Mikuru suggested.

"You think its worth it?" Higashiyama asked with interest. He didn't want to waste good aircraft on luring out probably superior Tyrandisan pilots.

"Definetly. If it seems they're about to be hit by a large missile strike they'll simply send their fighters off to meet up with some tankers and save them for another day. Destroying their ships isn't hard; knocking out their aircraft is hard. This is in standing with our objectives, no? Reduce Tyrandisan airpower?"

"That's true. Does anyone object?"

Nobody did.

Gholgothan Sea Somewhere
HIQMS AUGUSTO PINOCHET
14th July, 1951

Second Lieutenant Yaburo was slightly nervous as he climbed into the seat of his A7H Reppu, groundcrew waving him good luck. His mission was to tie up the Tyrandisan fighters for as long as possible, which in the Reppu was probably a death sentence. Oh well, he sighed. Why sign up for the Navy Air Service if you don't want to fight? This wasn't really what he had in mind though, he reflected, as he pushed his aircraft off the decks over the carrier and into the expanse of the deep blue sea. Around him, from the carriers slowly turning slightly to starboard to launch their aircraft. He kicked the aircraft into a climb , his squadron already in the air ahead of him, and could watch the vast expanse of the fleet spreading into the horizon and slowly getting closer as his own aircraft gained altitude. He couldn't stop but think for a minute that this assembled armada could ever be defeated.

"Thirteen-Four keep in formation you're dropping out a little over."

Yaburo shook his head and blinked. Must keep on track he though as he pushed his joystick slightly to starboard and up a little.

"Roger that Thirteen Leader, over."

The assembled air armada of eight hundred fighters and four hundred bombers cruised at ten thousand metres, their twenty four air warning aircraft trailing behind them with groups of UAVs. Their task was to be detected and to force the Tyrandisans to launch their fighters so the main attack could cripple their carriers and force their pilots to ditch into the sea. For the pilots in the air, it was a painful fact that they had to accept they were being used as decoys, but war means sacrifice...

...time would tell how much of a sacrifice had to be made.

Gholgothan Sea Somewhere
HIQMS MÍRIEL NOS FËANOR
14th July, 1951

The Míriel Nos Fëanor's rudder swung hard to port, and a moment later, its second rudder did too, the nuclear/conventional pumpjets shifting the ships course eastwards. As well as four of her heavy carrier brethren and eight accompanying light carriers, the Nos Fëanor was the flagship of the newly detached 11. Carrier Squadron, along with the Ian Smith, Nyasaland, Matabeleland and Salisbury. As they split off from the main group their escorts slowly began to drift from the fleet too and speed up to take positions around their carriers.

Sending up air radar craft, combat air patrols, and unmanned aerial scout vehicles the 11th Carrier Squadron began to move at speed towards the Gholgothan lines to probe and make recon-in-force assaults to judge individual and collective strength of the Gholgothan Naval Forces and to see the resistance offered on a path towards AMF.

"Questers has fired the first shots, sir."

"I know. I have been watching the reports as well. Send an ultra-low frequency command to our submarines in the Gholgoth area... initiate intimidation tactic Beta at the next opportunity."

His aide shook his head as he went off to deliver the orders. It was a ballsy move and would indeed catch many ships off guard, but there was a very bad downside to what was just ordered.

---------

Less than twenty minutes later, the waters of Gholgoth reverberated with a massive sound that was sure to cause a bit of short term hearing loss in sonar operators all over the area. 175 Supremacy Class Submarines had just revealed their locations with one unified ping.

Most were within Gholgothian waters, though 27 were farther out than the Questers fleet, probably in the process of moving into the warzone. The closest ping was fifteen miles behind the group to port.

[OOC: AMF says I can pime taradox it up, so...]


700km from the shores of AMF
Strike Group North
HIQMS NAGATO
4th August, 1951

"I'll be going for a nap, then." Higashiyama said and received nods and salutes all round from his senior crew. Sitting up from the table after taking a last gulp of water, he fixed his cap and left the command centre and began what may be described as a trek up to his room. He could take an elavator, but Higashiyama prefered to walk: it kept him active on what would usually be a very desk orientated job. Looking back on the decisions made, he was wary, but risks had to be taken to achieve victory.

He had split his fleet in to three parts; three task groups known as Strike Centre Group, Strike North Group, and Centre Air Command. Centre Air Command consisted of roughly half of the aircraft capacity of the fleet and the most crack pilots flying the best aircraft Questers had to offer. They sat slightly closer to the shore, but with Higayishama was confident that the Mogami class air defence cruisers, which had been brought along in massive bulk, would prove as annoying to the Freeks as they were to their NATO allies. The Fleet Admiral knew that AMF was a smaller country than most; well populated, but he would use this as best to his advantage as possible. It meant that his aircraft carriers were able to project air defence over the fleet far more effectively and a double pronged attack could happen under at least nominal air cover. That wasn't to say both Strike Groups didn't have their own carriers; they did. However, Center Air Command was positioned to give air cover to both strike groups and the naval air forces were grouped around there. Higayishama had taken considerable trouble in moving out and splitting the light carriers to both strike groups equally and then swapping over fighter pilots to give greater fighter strength. It had worked: each strike group had a rotational air group of a thousand fighters tiered and feathered over five hundred kilometres.

AWACs, electronc intelligence birds and drones, and radar UAVs dotted the sky around each group, providing top down and ahead aerial recon up until the coast, some of them as high up as 20,000 metres: if anything was taking off, they'd know about it, working in conjunction with the strong radars of the fleet itself. On the decks of each aircraft carrier a squadron of aircraft, their pilots ready to take off at a moments notice, were ready and prepped to launch to assist where it may be required. The air, indeed, was its own formidable mobile fortress. However, Higayishama reflected, there were other dangers.

They had already sustained losses as probing reconnoitre vessels moved into Freek waters. Reports showed everything that was expected of a well defended coastline, naval mines and encapsulated torpedoes being the most deadly. The fleets, both Strike Groups, were well endowed with strong anti mine and submarine capability from their light destroyers, but movement had slowed down to a snails pace. As North Group skirted around the North and positioned itself to strike Port Freek, Centre Group was moving dead ahead through the centre to St Freeksburg. Both had significant ASW brackets in the form of submarines and helicopters, but movement was slowed due to the neccesity of forward groups to clear out a path with their anti-mine minidrones.

As Higayishama reached his cabin, he kicked off his shoes and lay down on the bed, as the swirling seas of Gholgoth crashed against the hull of his ship.

At least it'll all be over soon Higayishama whispered to himself before drifting off to sleep.

It was a fairly terrifying thought.

The Crimm fleet that had been sitting patiently on the sidelines turned suddenly, moving towards a position that placed it in an area to hinder movement, yet remain out of range, either to attack or defend. They were merely impeding the free movement of the Questers fleet.

Meanwhile, the second force was entering Gholgothian waters, the fleet of one carrier, twelve cruisers, fifteen frigates, eight missile ships, four assault ships, and five attack submarines. That last group brought the number of submarines in Gholgothian waters up to nearly 250.

==============

Omar Pace sat in his office. "The battle is nearly upon us... strange that there has not been more fighting as of yet. No matter... send an ultra-low frequency command. All submarines are to engage enemy surface assets at their discretion. Enemy submarines are to be handled as best your are able."

The leader of the Brotherhood looked around. He didn't like this... this was a war being fought in Gholgoth and he sat in Cairo. While he was not planning on picking up a gun and charging an enemy landing, he disliked the fact that he was so far away. Commanding a fleet that far removed would be troublesome... and dangerous. "Find out when the next Jump Team heading for Gholgoth is deploying. I'm going to Avalon." Pace's staff paused for a full five seconds, then went about carrying the order out as he transferred several files to a PDA like device.

===========

Under the seas of Gholgoth, only 27 Crimm submarines were within any sort of striking distance. Not quite the closed fist they would have liked, considering they had nearly ten times that number in the area... but it would do.

34 torpedoes streaked through the water from 15 different directions in the span of eight minutes, each submarine waiting until attention was(hopefully) drawn to one area and launching while ships responded to the submarine that had revealed itself...

The submarines all altered their positions as one would expect, fully anticipating that the next few hours would set their teeth on edge...

Azrael Sir, the latest intel reports indicate the enemy is dividing their forces and swinging into a pincer like maneuver. It appears they plan on assaulting the northeasten sector of the mainland and isolating it, and their current heading has half of their force steaming towards St. Freeksburg.

And the other half? Azrael ran his hand through several days of beard growth as he sized up the situation.

Well, we're unsure. They appear to be heading into the AMF/Panteran straight, though they could also be planning on assaulting Freeksburg Island from the west or northwest. We really don't know where this taskforce is headed to be honest.

His eyebrows narrowed slightly as the gears in his mind continued to turn, though he doubted the intel. It doesn't make sense for them to divide their force and send half of it into one of the most heavily defended areas in the entire eastern region of Gholgoth.

He stepped towards the large screen displaying the layout of the entire theater, trying to gauge exactly where to position his forces and where the enemy would throw his. You see, I have ordered a large contingent of our homeland fleet into the straight, and the Panterans also have assets in the area. The channel between our nations is relatively small, and can be hammer from both respective coasts. Essentially the Straight is a death trap, and in order to even stand a chance of going through it you would have to pacify Freeksburg Island, which houses shitloads of land and air batteries, as well as a sizable garrison. I doubt the Questarians are stupid enough to run the gauntles just to find themselves surrounded, as we can then swing our ships around and flank them, as well as pummel them from the air on all sides.

And their eastern approach?

He paused for a second before shifting to the right side of the screen, his finger gliding across its surface as he drew out the moves that would be made. A little more tricky, but Freeksburg Island can provide massive support towards St. Freeksburg if indeed they choose to assault the city, which would certainly be a tall order for them since it is one of our most heavily defended deep water ports. The Forbidden Isle is to their south, which landing there isn't an option for either side, but perhaps the Questarians will learn that the hard way. The rest of our naval forces are in the south near Mako Island to prevent an assault there, and can wheel around to the north and flank them if they manage to touch down. Either way, this is going immediately to the ground, as I have no intention of engaging them at sea.

The commanders in the room looked puzzled as to why Azrael would not engage at sea. Several spoke up and voiced their disapproval, suggesting that the fleets would be better served keeping the enemy at bay for as long as possible. I hear you, and I understand your concern. However, I want to draw them in as close as possible before any naval engagement is made, and as a matter of fact, I *want* them to land. I *want* them to throw countless wave after wave of Questarian troops at our defenses and watch them break like water upon rock. If we use our superior air defense grid and focus on denying them the skies, it will be all the easier. Essentially gentlemen, we are taking away the Questarian's best weapon; their navy. By not openly engaging at sea we are effectively making their ships a non-issue, but by the time we do press our air and sea assault, they will be so battered they will have no choice but to break and run.

Azrael's orders were issued down through the ranks later that afternoon, and large contingents of Sentinels, Fallen, and professional Freekish soldiers began heading towards the estimated landing zones, though the mobile force was prepared to re-locate and shadow the Questarian navy in order to meet their landing head on. Countless mobile artillery and missile batteries were shuffled about the length of the northeast coast in order to provide support for the static defensive posts and that lined the coasts. Freeksburg Island was alive with movement as the garrisons there dug in and prepared to withstand the inevitable bombardments the Questarian navy would throw at them, though their missile and gun batteries enjoyed the luxury of extremely mountainous terrain and were well hidden and protected.

With millions of land mines already placed along the lengths of Automagfreek's coast, helicopters took flight in large swarms and once more blanketed the anticipated landing zones with small scatterable mines, ranging from sugar packet sized to basketball sized. The large saturation of anti-personnel devices would make it extremely difficult to advance under fire, especially since the minefields extended for quite a ways from the shoreline. The Questarians would also be met with pit traps, hidden pillboxes, and a dug in force with nearly unlimited access to any fighting point due to an extensive tunnel network. Freeksburg Island was defended to a point where Azrael was simply not concerned with its defense, for it had been a mainstay in driving back foreign invaders for countless ages of warfare.

With all of the Regent's pieces in position, he decided to make the first move. Messages were electronically dispatched to all air wings to begin the first phase of the defensive operation. Within minutes, scores of aircraft began lifting off from all across the country, ranging from AWACS to fighter planes to heavy bombers. Surely with the sudden mass in air presence the Questarians would surely take notice, even more so as bombers began moving towards both battlegroups with intentions of drawing first blood. The wings stationed at the coast didn't have to fly far from land at all before arming their anti-shipping missiles and preparing to fire.

Commence firing on my mark..... Azrael's voice boomed over all designated frequencies, signaling his ground and air crews to begin their attacks on the enemy ships. Engage.

In unision land batteries across the nation sounded off with torrents of Khan missiles acquired through NATO ties to the Macabee government, as well as the domestically made 'Porcupine' ICCM that had decimated the Doomani navy and nearly sent the Praetonian built 'Sarius Rex' to the bottom. The ability for the weapon to deploy its ten kinetic re-entry vehicles upon detecting an enemy radar lock made its efficiency extremely high, as witnessed by the carnage unleashed by Damien's forces against Ephesium and the Doomani ships sitting on the floor of the sea. Tens of thousands would be fired over the course of the initial exchange at designated targets ranging from the Questarian capital ships, carriers, and other large surface vessels. The massive kinetic strike from the Porcupines alone would surely bloody the nose of the enemy, who had become bogged down by the thick naval minefield that blanketed Freekish waters. This first salvo was complemented by a torrent of air launched Skewer long range missiles and Infernus AShM's from Freekish heavy Stratobombers, who skirted the coast and made sure not to creep too closely to the Questarian fleet.

Batteries from across the eastern region also sounded off with waves of missiles aimed at targets on the designated list of high value naval assets. The intensive and relentless swarm of guided ordnance from all over the Empire's vast defensive network would be sure to throw a wrench in their works, and successive fluxes in the volume of missiles were being prepped to throw off the Questarians and keep them under pressure throughout the now never ending barrage. The gauntlet had been thrown down and the projected path of the enemy fleet was clear of Freekish ships all the way to the coast, while Admirals under Azrael's command waited safely both in the AMF/Panteran Straight, as well as the security of the heavy batteries at Mako Island and those of the southern mainland. Wether a sea engagement would actually take place was another matter, but for now the Devil's Fingers, massive 40" guns hidden throughout the east coast and all over Freeksburg Island, readied their rocket assisted, GPS guided shells for firing once the Questarian fleet imposed further on Freekish territory.....

The nearly sixty subs stationed in the Blood Bay split into two groups, one looping north and east, around Northern Pantera, the other south and east, into the AMF/Panteran straight. The northern group would sail eastward once into open sea, nearly to Braavos, before it made it's swing south to take their foe's fleet in the flank, if not their rear. The other sub-group would slip through the straight and prepare to harass enemy shipping once the Questarian fleets joined battle.

The Homeland Fleet, carrier-heavy and submarine-screened, waited off Braavos, ready to swing south in support of any move Azrael's own naval forces made against the Questarian flotilla. Once committed to the landing, they would be trapped against western AMF and at the mercy of a Gholgothan strike at the flanks and rear of the enemy fleet.

Southeastern Pantera was aswarm with furious activity, with great stretches of highway being converted into runways to accomodate the mass southern migration of the Northern Air Corps. Thousands of aircraft were fueled and readied, their pilots put on immediate stand-by, while scores of others patrolled the lanes in the AMF/Panteran straight and eastward, over the open Gholgothan sea.

Now that the blow was set to fall on eastern Automagfreek, the Lord Reaver began ferrying over men and supplies. The Freekish soldiers would doubtless hurl the Questarian dogs back into the sea to make an end of the farce, and the Evenstar did not intend to let them do it alone. Even the fistful of Reaver armored units and the small army put ashore in AMF would remind the Sentinals and Freekish soldiers that their wild brothers to the north were with them once again, as ever. The camraderie of Sentinal and Reaver would serve to strengthen their resistance, and surely no Freek would begrudge their Pact Brothers the chance to spill Questarian blood in defense of their Gholgothan homes. Panteran forces continued to grow in northern Automagfreek, being ferried and choppered across the straight from the ports and cities of southern Pantera.

But the Evenstar, canny as ever, did not neglect his own defenses. The northern thrust of the Questarian fleet could easily divert to southron Pantera and attempt to force a landing there. Though they would first be forced to brave the gauntlet of AMF and Panteran guns guarding the straight and to sail far enough to the west reach an appropriate landing site: Nearly thirty miles of death in the cramped straight. But surely the thousands of missile and artillery emplacements would deter them. As would the massed armored fists of Reaver tanks ready to counter-attack, should they successfully land.

As word of Azrael's initial salvo came in, it was immediately broadcast to Reaver forces all over Pantera. Scores of Panteran jets recieved their orders to lift off with the added message of,"For Pantera, the Blood Pact, and mighty Gholgoth!"

Strike North Group
HIQMS NAGATO
5th August, 1951


"So they're using Khans eh." Higashiyama leaned over the flat display monitor, palms rubbing against the glass cover. "They sure as hell didn't tell us they had 'em." The Fleet Admiral watched the digitalised streaks representing missiles charge themselves headfirst at the fleets defences on the command screen. This was the sixth strike today, and although the fleet was still holding up, Higashiyama was tiring of the bombardment.

"Kriegzimmer stocks... we should have guessed really."

"How are we dealing with those porcupines?"

One of Higashiyama's officers grinned. "We discovered that when our radars lock on, the missile pre-emptively launches its kinetics so as to avoid being shot down. Clever system."

"We already knew that, didn't we?" the Fleet Admiral replied.

"Uh huh. So we had an idea; our forward drones and airdars lock onto the missile before it comes anywhere near in SAM range. They launch their kinetics pre-emptively, but way before they should do. It hurts their kinetic accuracy like hell to launch from that far out. A good proportion of them simply hit the sea, others are knocked off course... well, you know the typical drill."

"We're invincible to these Porcupines?" Higashiyama looked at the officer.

"No. Of course not. We've managed to limit their deadliness several fold, though. Also gives our air defence a better chance."

Higashiyama shrugged. "We seem to be holding up pretty well then. Those Mogamis are handling things how they're supposed to I guess. Already NATO really hates those things."

His staff officers nodded, sensing he was about to continue.

"But we can't stand hammerings like these for this long. i'm guessing their landbased stocks will run low after a while, but I'd rather run into a war of attrition with Automagfreek half a thousand klicks from their own soil." As if its not already bad. Higashiyama said to himself as an afterthought. Completing the objectives he'd been given to him would be hard. A place in the history books, though, either-way as a valiant hero. He'd rather not die, but joining the hallowed halls of those who had tried to invade Automagfreek and failed was still an honour fresh in Higashiyama's mind.

His officers nodded again.

"So I suggest that we swing around and land on the north of this here island." Using his stylus, Higashiyama pulled up a strategic map of AMF and tapped roughly around where he intended to land. "We'll also divert forces off Strike South, which is always good. The faster we land the less important their missile strikes become." Higashiyama briefly glanced towards the slowly rising casualty count.

"Agreed." Mikuru replied.

"Then lets do it."

Minutes later, Strike North Group, her defence cruisers and destroyers still cycling off SAMs, began to slowly turn - as fast as the massive superdreadnoughts at its head would allow anyway - to the South, and pointed their collective bows at the shores of Automagfreek's land, still beyond the horizon. For the troops in the landing ships, every lurch of the ship, every movement and sound of missiles exploding outside was extremely uncomfortable. The crack troops loaded onboard the vessels had been cooped up for two months and despite on-deck excercises were plainly itching to hit the shore.

Strike North Group
HIQMS MÍRIEL NOS FËANOR
5th August, 1951


The large air vehicle shot off the deck, the steam catapult sending it zooming across the cold metal of the aircraft carrier and into the sky above, its comrade tailing it moments after. They were both unmanned combat drones; and combined with other ships sending them up, their task was simple: light em up! The two hundred or so UCAVs being thrown at the shores of AMF were operating wild weasel missions, using their recon companions to trigger air defences (and reporting their positions back to their command ships, of course) into switching on their radar so the armed UCAVs could get a lock on their sams. Should the Freeks anticipate this move, the recon drones would be constantly scanning the shores where the landing would take place and reporting back anything they saw.

The Questarian fleet would have to get much closer to begin real combat operations, but the first waves of bombers would work their magic fairly far out. Two squadrons of M3F strike bombers, in the white and red livery of the Air Service, began being loaded up with their special weapons: the ASSM-4, a single large missile slung underneath their fuselage, wedged neatly between the aircraft's two large ECM pods. It wasn't designed to bombard bunkers or sink ships; instead, it would fly over the beaches and, like a cluster munition, explode at a pre-determined GPS coordinate and scattering several hundred bomblets over the beach, each designed to penetrate the sands and detonate any mines below them.

Captain Maroko waved to his flight crew as they scattered away from the planes, its twin FSAC/2nt turbofan engines kicking the aircraft into life as it began to accelerate, turning onto Maroko's alloted launch slot. Alongside the decks of the carrier, aircrew, seamen and pilots alike were waving. In the gentle breeze, a multitude of Questarian flags flapped and fluttered. This was it, Maroko thought. The first blow on AMF shores to be delivered by Questers. Within minutes he was in the sky, with a wave of fighters and air-radar above his head as escorts, he pulled his squadron into formation. The forty-four bombers were only the first wave, but covered by 220 fighters and appropriate EW and AWAC birds it was still enough to get the job done: Launch the rocket at 150 klicks out and head for home.

Strike North Group
39th Air RADAR Squadron
5th August, 1951


"Jesus christ." The radar operative shook his head. "This is fucking dull. All we've done all day is lock onto some fucking missiles and watch some helos thats it. Considering we're invading Autofuckingmagfreek this is getting tiresome." He moaned.

"Whatever. You're just pissed because you haven't gotten laid or wankered for two months." The pilot snickered. "Quit whining."

"Hey, fuck you. I'm serious. If I don'- er" he paused. "Incoming bogeys, range 500 klicks and gaining. Multiple aircraft launches off the coast of Pantera."

The distance between AMF and Pantera was a double edged sword. Yes, it allowed great strategic shifting of troops which would surely hurt the Questarians in the long run, but it meant their AWACS could monitor both coasts effectively and gather information on both Southern Pantera and Northern AMF at the same time, even if it did mean being trapped inbetween a rock and a hard place...

Upon receiving this information, the air-directors onboard the capital ships began their work. The northern combat air patrols were put on alert and their fighter complements, ready to take off onboard the carriers, were finally launched and reinforcements were prepped up. Should Panteran planes begin to approach the Questarian fleet, they would meet fierce counterattacks from the combat air patrol and if they broke through would meet an equally sized force launched from reinforcements readied on the carriers.

For the infantry that were in hiding across the northeastern theater, the action couldn't come soon enough. Sentinel officers cursed and complained that Azrael should stop toying with them and just allow them to land unopposed, so they might be dashed to pieces and their mutilated bodies put on display. The professional Freekish soldiers on the other hand scoffed at such brashness, instead they prayed and hoped that the Imperial Regent could do everything in his power to destroy the intruders before they touched down. Though they were just as eager as the next man to defend their homes, the Freeks were not foolish, and knew that technology and strategy before the landing would be crucial.

With the minelaying on the beaches and shallow waters complete, the helicopters broke off and headed back to base in order to have their mine pods swapped out for missile launchers. The inevitable ground confrontation was sure to be a battle worthy of remembrance, and the Army was eager to show that they were still a very lethal force to contend with. The sounds of missiles roaring overhead gave them a sense of confidence and calmed some of their unsteady nerves, though most were simply eager to get the killing done and over with so that they could move onto much more important matters. However, before the army would play its part, the air and naval corps were hard at work.

M'Lord, our AWAC birds are reporting a steady increase of Questarian aircraft, large signatures with a heading this way.

Azrael nodded without much concern, instead he demanded to know the results of the missile launch. The specialist clacked away at his keyboard until a series of statistics filled his computer screen, indicating the levels of missiles launched and the status of available stocks.

All batteries are reporting roughly a 5% launch, total ordnance spent over 15,000 already and climbing. Our sensors are also indicating a decrease in Porcupine efficency, hold on I'll pull it up for you.

His mouse scrolled over to the Porcupine icon, and he double clicked on it in order to bring up the logged data. It appears the weapons are deploying their re-entry vehicles earlier than expected, and as a result we've lost a substantial kill percentage.

What? How the hell is that possible?

Well M'lord, the weapon deploys upon receiving a radar lock in order to prevent a total loss of the system. Judging by the time the weapon deployed its sub-munitions, it's obvious that the radar locks were coming from the air at a distance, and were not from their fleet. However we can change this, the Porcupine is a very smart weapon. I can modify the firing protocol and put the weapon on active scanning, which means that we will not get a deployment until the on board sensors detect a missile lock, similar to what's on fighter jets. We normally set the weapon to this mode, but we anticipated the Questarians would be able to respond better than they have, and waiting until there is a missile lock is risky, especially given the speeds of re-entry. So far all they've really done is try to fool the weapon, but I can update the orders and electronically send the new data to all the launch batteries for them to upload into their database.

Azrael told the specialist to update the protocols immediately so succesive launches of Porcupine missiles would have a much more devastating effect, though he was unsure at the moment what all damage his intensive air and land volley have even done. Another officer alerted the Regent of a sweeling of Questarian air presence as noted from Freekish AWAC planes. Sir, we have a dramatic increase in fighter sized craft in thie quadrant, and we already have probing efforts by craft with a smaller signature.

He had prepared for an air engagement and immediately ordered his bombers to wheel about and concentrate their Skewer long range missiles at the inbound planes. The moderate swarm of Freekish Sea Scorpion, Stratosfighter, and the recently activated Stratosfighter II's was soon bolstered by additional planes from the mainland as well as from Freeksburg Island's numerous airfields which sat comfortably in thin valleys that snaked throughout the entire island. Using streaming sensor data from their airborne scanners, the Freekish bombers and well armed Stratosfighters began unleashing a torrent of Skewer missiles, designed to travel long distances at incredible speeds in order to deliver a sizable payload. The multi-purpose missiles were also fired from mobile batteries near the beaches of Freeksburg Island, who were also commencing firing at the aerial drones that were imposing on the Freekish coast. Their mobility allowed them to fire several missiles at a time then relocate, and the simple fact that they did not have to rely on ground sensors gave them an even bigger advantage.

The Regent had sent orders to refrain from activating their land based radar systems just yet, as the Questarians would love nothing more than to fire scores of anti-radiation missiles and render one of the most impressive anti-air nets impotent. Instead he relied on data sharing and the ability of the Freekish military to network and instantly swap information so that each piece within the entire grid was always up to speed. Without activating his land based radar grid, Azrael ordered his mobile batteries to fire medium range Hellrage AI guided missiles, as well as prompting a very select few of his SmartFlak ground crews to begin blanketing the air with 35mm and 40mm guided flak rounds. The mini-gun style guns unleashed controlled burst of flak at the center of the UCAV formation in order to scatter them prematurely, and at the same time an intensive barrage of electronic countermeasures were employed across the entire theater. The jamming and electronics disrupting signals would surely have a greater effect on the smaller and less adequately protected UCAV's, but would also hamper the ability of the inbound Questarian planes to detect and lock onto the Freekish jets and bombers who were already engaging from long range.

Several Stratobombers had been tasked with delivering a critical blow during the aerial exchange, and they were outfitted with modified Skewer missiles in order to carry out their objective; disrupting the enemy's eys in the sky. Using the confusion of the coordinated anti-air launch, the selected bombers would fired their missiles with Questarian planes as the primary target, and enemy AWAC planes as secondary targets. Upon nearing its primary objective the missile switches to its secondary target and begins moving in for the kill, and the enemy observation craft would not detect the missile lock until the munition was already on an inevitable crash course with them. It was a move that might not pay off, but if anything it would likely force the enemy to keep their AWAC's further out of range, and as a result shorten the range of their scanners.

However, the focus on the air was only brief and to the point, for Azrael was much more focused on destroying the Questarian navy. Knowing that his stockpiles were high and his batteries could easily step up their level of bombardment, he ordered that a several hour long 'pulse' of munitions be thrown at them, meaning the sheer number of missiles would be greatly intensified for a short period of time in order to score more hits and hopefully catch the Questarians off guard. The closer they steamed towards Freekish soil the more sea mines they would encounter, and from there the enemy commanders had a crucial decision to make: do you steam into the ever thickening minefield, or do you hold up to begin clearing and leave yourself exposed to successive waves of missiles?

Omar scowled at the reports that came in as he strode towards the waiting transport. "We're winning, yes... but the costs are high. I need to be there to oversee this to a swift end."

Two and a half hours later, while the battle raged far below and to the East, Omar climbed into the drop pod of the high flying plane, knowing that there were several others filled with Commandos. He keyed his mic. "Fireteam Lambda... thanks for letting me tag along on this drop."

"Our pleasure, Sir." The sergeant was a gruff voiced man, but the speaker made him sound almost like a Charr... "Not everyday you get to meet the leader of the Brotherhood, let alone deploy with him. It's not exactly First Class, but it's one hell of a ride."

Omar nodded, though the man couldn't see him. "I'm sure it is. I read three minutes until drop... confirm."

"Confirmed. Your pod is third... just let the on-board systems do the work until it opens. Then spread eagle. If you tumble..." There was a pause. "Then it was a pleasure to meet you in person, Sir."

Omar allowed himself a smile. "I'm no para-trooper, but I have jumped before. I know what to do, Sergeant."

When the three minutes were up, a time that felt like a hour to him, a buzzer sounded and a deep clunk reverberated through the plane, followed by another and then... Omar felt his own pod drop. "Oh..." he let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The wind noise was intense and getting louder... he had the distinct sensation of falling quickly, but had no way to tell how fast. Nearly a minute later, his pod broke apart around him exactly as designed, air blasting against him. The pieces tumbled away and he went into a frogman dive, to get a look around. The continent below seemed almost small. He could see the the enemy fleet, which was sobering, considering he was so far away.

Looking in the other direction, Omar could see the other pods casings and signaled the jumpers by clicking his mic three times. He received two in return, before he spread eagled and let the chute open as planned minutes later, far too close to the ground for his liking. Suddenly his feet faced down and he grabbed the controls. Just like the old days... Guiding the chute in, he dropped into his LZ nice and easy, landing on the parade grounds of Avalon, very near the small stage for press conferences. The media present stared in awe at a paratrooper arriving at that moment and started screaming questions as they saw who it was, as he removed the helmet and strode towards the main command building.

The footage of his near-flawless landing and explanation that the Brotherhood's leader had been inserted via drop-pod was plastered all over the outgoing media. Omar reportedly commented that the drop was "the quickest and most efficient way to get myself to Gholgoth without being a large target to the enemy".

The fact that he had arrived via a drop pod had also gained him a large measure of respect from the Crimmond Marines, who seemed slightly awed in his presence, though not enough to distract them from their duties. Quite the opposite in fact... they wanted his approval. He gave it sporadically, to make sure they thought that their extra hard work was not in vain.

He watched the readouts... while the team he had dropped with was going towards the cliffs near Avalon, there were other planes in bound. Planes that were cruising at an altitude that made bombing nearly impossible, intercepting a pain and would likely lead them to be viewed as recon planes. They weren't. "Give the Go Code. Inform Azrael that the high altitude contacts are Crimm and not to fire on the released cargo for any reason. In addition, alert our carrier groups to land their troops as soon as they know where the enemy is landing. I'm sure Azrael won't mind having troops shooting at the enemy."

=========

Flying so high that no one on Earth could hear them, a flight of planes cruised, well out of range of any ground attack weapons except the longest range missiles, which would most likely be knocked down before ever reaching the bombers by their escort aerofighters, which cruised far below them, and their own countermeasures. "Jumper teams, signal status." A bank of green lights flashed on the readout in the cockpit, showing all pods ready for drop. "Flight, signal status." More green lights. "Approaching drop point." The bomb bay doors opened, letting a roar fill the planes.

Gunnery Sergeant Samantha Laran watched the readout in her simple HUD. Altitude, speed and status of the Jumpers on her plane were shown. She was about to key her mic and ask exactly how far to the drop point when a thump shuddered the plane, followed by more, barely half seconds apart. Jumpers vanished from her HUD as their pods were dropped. Hers came last, compressed air kicking the pod down as the latches released. Gravity would have done the job, but Jumpers needed every second they could get. These pods were the big brothers to the ones Omar had used to insert into Gholgoth. They didn't break open, they landed intact and then opened. Her HUD went blank as it lost contact with the plane, so she reset it for ground mode and waited for touchdown.

Air was a roar on the pod's metal skin and pings sounded off of it about half way to the LZ, she realized she was dropping in at an angle, screaming over the beaches. Antiaircraft fire, most likely fired by the Questers forces or by the Freeks at the Questers planes was hitting her pod. The armored pod would keep her safe, though... she hoped it would, at least. The parachute on her pod deployed, slowing it to a non-lethal speed inside of 300 feet. Ten seconds to touchd- The pod slammed into the ground at nearly thirty miles per hour and tipped onto it's side, skidding several feet. This caused Larens helmet hit the door of the pod, leaving her vision a red blur for a few seconds. "FUCK!" Her chute had obviously been ripped or hadn't deployed fully... she did a mental check. Things hurt, but she didn't feel anything broken as she moved her limbs. Her fist hit the bright orange EXIT button and her door fell away with the help of small explosive bolts.

She and nearly eighty other commandos stormed out of the pods, which were clearly marked with the Brotherhood's scorpion tail and another symbol that was most likely the symbol of the Commandos, and ran for better cover. Soon, it became obvious of where they had landed... They had come down behind the Freek lines of defense and had to move up through them if they wanted to reach the front. They were slightly smaller than the Sentinels, armored lighter and armed with weapons obviously designed for precise hits, rather than mass slaughter.

She was about to approach a Sentinel officer she saw nearby when she saw a Commando near her with what looked like an HK G11... she looked closer and realized it was. Caseless ammo weapons weren't issued to Commandos... Too hard to get re-supplies on a mission. Red flags went up in he mind immediately. She aimed her Tavor at the 'Commando' and the action got several others to do the same. The figure looked around, saw Laran and tilted it's head. A second later, a green IFF tag appeared in the HUDs of the Commandos. The insignia of a Colonel was beside it. Laran tilted her head slightly and lowered her weapon. "Skorzeny..."

The Colonel nodded. "Good afternoon, Gunnery Sergeant. Lovely day, isn't it?" He chuckled and walked on, the other Commandos spreading out again. He wasn't supposed to be here... he wasn't a Commando. He was no match for a Sentinel or a Commando in a combat situation. Endurance, speed, reaction times... all inferior. But that wasn't why he was here, she suspected. He was here to fight dirty.

=====

Otto Skorzeny III. Great-Grandson of The Most Dangerous Man In Europe. A thing he took pride in, knowing that while his namesake was an SS Colonel and Hitler's favorite SS man, he wasn't a monster. He didn't care who ran Germany, as long as they let him go out and kick someone in the ass while pretending to kick them in the teeth. Something his descendant enjoyed as well.

He had wondered how long it would take for the Commandos to notice his non-regulation kit. One minute and fifteen seconds. Acceptable, given the situation. He approached what he gathered to be a higher ranking Sentinel and was struck by how small he was, compared to the Freek. While Otto was a normal sized human and slightly smaller than a Commando, he looked thin and puny beside the armored figure he was approaching. Genetic engineering at it's finest. He stopped several feet away and officially announced himself. "Colonel Otto Skorzeny III. Commanding Officer of the Crimmond Imperial Commandos that just dropped in... We were just in the neighborhood and thought we'd stop in for coffee and doughnuts. Hope we're not coming at a bad time..."

The nearly cheery greeting covered the small knot in his stomach. He had already called up the low powered IFF tags of the Commandos and in the midst of the green status bars, three were red. The pods aren't perfect. He had seen two malfunction... the one Sergeant Laran was in(he was quite relieved that his top sniper had survived) and another had tumbled in flight, making a small crater as it impacted the planet at full speed. He didn't want to know what malfunctions caused the last two red bars. Not now, at least. He would have to find out and report the problems sooner or later, though.

After what seemed like an entire epoch had passed, two Charrian Assault Fleets finally entered Automagfreek waters in a flurry of friendship messages. The Terrgard Assault Fleet was the primary fleet of the Charrian Oceanic Assault Force, centred around two large supercarriers and consisting of all manners of heavy cruisers, destroyers, missile cruisers, a trio of battleships, numerous submarines and all of the various support vessels that a large fleet required. The Feeerka Assault Fleet was centred around a lone carrier and the new (and only) Torus-class Super Dreadnought - which in typical Charrian style was slow compared to other efforts, capable of only 24 knots and only wielding an average armament, but was very heavily armoured. They were joined by the typical assortment of cruisers, destroyers and other common warships. Both fleets were also augmented with various ships from incomplete fleets elsewhere, bolstering their numbers to higher levels. As with anything to do with Charr, comparatively speaking these ships were slow and ponderous, but armed heavily with above-average armour for their respective classes. Numerous fighter/bombers patrolled all around them, several anti-submarine helicopters stood ready to lift off on all of the carrier decks, and large numbers of SAM and CIWS systems were ready to shoot down anything that came looking for them - which was unlikely, this far out.

This fleet had little intention of engaging Questarian forces however, at least not for the time being. On approach to the largely untouched southern coast, its main purpose was escorting the eight large troop transport vessels which sat in the midst of their formation. General Frak Giantclaw had the honour of commanding this, the largest expeditionary force to ever set sail from Tyria, and had intended to establish the naval equivalent of a barbed wire fence around these delicate ships, to such a degree that submarines cruised directly below them to act as damage buffers in the unlikely event that enemy torpedoes managed to get close.

Giantclaw was an elderly Charr, who had served in the Assault Fleet for most of his lifetime. His fur was beginning to grey and he found it more difficult to stand up for long periods of time these days. Standing on the outer platform of the conning tower of his flagship carrier, he leaned up against the rails and allowed the wind to rustle his fur lightly and took in the salty scent that surrounded them. Like most Charr in any of their defence forces he wore no uniform, nor were there any symbols of rank or service medals on display anywhere on his person. He wore only a short, brown cloth around his waist and, somewhat unusually for a Charr, a tattered and untreated leather wrap around his chest. Three golden rings pierced his left ear, though whether these symbolised anything or were just decorative was unclear, as nobody else aboard wore them. Aside from the fact that he stood now at the top of the Flagship of the First Fleet, there was little to visually distinguish him from any other Charr in the world.

It had been a very long journey, which he for one was glad to have almost completed. Great distance separated Gholgoth from Tyria, and their fleet had not yet been ready for a departure when these hostilities first began. Giantclaw was not especially eager to enter the fray - he was old, past his prime, and no longer the lustful youth he had once been. Certainly there was honour to be gained in these violent times, but in his long life he had accumulated as much honour as he wanted anyway. Contrariwise, many of the men they now carried were looking forward to the chance, to the point that he could even hear the roars emerging from the transport ships from here as they found out that they were on the final approach. Charr and humans had fought together only in history, and some of the more 'fervent' Charr amongst them longed for the records to be updated.

With a growling sigh he stepped away from the railings and passed through the door into the bridge, decorated with nothing more than wooden panels as it was. There was plenty to do, and plenty of Charr to do it, though one or two humans milled around as well - including Giantclaw's personal translator, Hirus Melanticus. Charr design ethic insisted on making everything look as old as possible, and the numerous sophisticated computer terminals that a carrier required contrasted quite heavily with this.

"Guardian Jittereye, inform AMF southern port authorities that we seek docking permissions for our transport ships," he growled across the large hub of activity, to a Charr who manned a series of communications terminals. "Inform them that the great and honourable Bonfaaz Burntfur has kept his promise to Damien Dreadfire - the Horde is ready to fight. I would like to discuss their deployment with the relevant military commanders."

"Yes General!" Jittereye shouted back obediently, and began tapping out the communication on his touchscreen computer, which automatically began translating the pictographs into the peculiar language of the humans, ready to send on a secure wavelength.

Giantclaw took a seat and slouched in it calmly. The time was almost upon them.