NationStates Jolt Archive

Azaha Command
Central HQ
13th July, 1951

They had been aware for some time of the Allanean build up in San Nereiana, and it was deemed a severe threat to Azaha. Yet, Azaha had a strong Army at least, but in size it was lacking compared to the heavy equipment of the Allanean Army. So Azaha Command, led by Field Marshall Montgomery-Tomkinson, formulated Operation: Bosnia Hammer. In short, it was the reduction of Allanean Airpower to approximately nil, then the destruction of Allanean heavy forces by overwhelming airpower, and then their crushing at the hands of an advancing Azahan Army. So, the operation began like the one on the mainland. Truck/ramp launched ICCMs were deployed across the vast desert of Azaha and at the opening they were deployed in precisely the same way as they did on the mainland, in equal numbers; though they were concentrated on striking airbases and not logistics, as that could be handled afterwards. From across the 25 airbases buried deep in the Azahan desert, swarms of Questarian aircraft took off and headed towards their targets in San Nereiana to begin Operation Bosnia Hammer. Over a thousand D3F strike bombers and a thousand A7H air superiority fighters were already in the air with twice that many waiting on the tarmac to take off for the second wave of attack.

Paramount Islands
HIQMS Kaiyo
13th July, 1951

The attack on the Skyian Colony was one of many that would follow in the passing days. The small Paramount Islands were only the first NATO strongholds in Haven to be assaulted by the forces of the Questarian Commonwealth. The Questarian fleet, led by five Hiryu class fleet carriers, brought with it just over 2,300 combat aircraft as the 10 Conquerer class light carriers gave further punch to the mainly carrier based fleet. At three hundred kilometres, the aircraft were already in the air when the declaration of war was made. Only two hundred kilometres away from the main Skyian naval base in Paramount, three hundred of the new M3F Naval Bombers launched their payload and then quickly peeled off; the first attack on TSS in the bloody war at sea that would follow was inglorious in its nature, but the results would surely pay off; 1200 of the missiles were launched against all types of ships in the main base. To achieve victory, overkill was required. After this attack, 30 of the County Class Cruisers in the battlefleet began launching salvos of their missiles at their targets, guided by UAVs which had only just come into range, though inertial and active radar would kick in moments later. Over all 900 SS-25 SOVEREIGN heavy anti shipping missiles would accompany the air launched missiles, but that wasn't all.

M3F1s loaded with air to ground missiles on the light carriers took off directly after the attack had begun. Covered by a fresh CAP launched timed just correctly, two hundred of the aircraft covered by six hundred fresh fighter launches twenty minutes later sallied over Skyian airspace. The same tactic used in Aequatio to deal with airbases was in effect here, for the first wave at least; twenty submarines, right in the centre of the fleet, launched their SSG-33 strike missiles, designed to crater airbases in the same way as the land based ICCMs being fired only ten minutes ago where, way across Haven. In total, 240 of the missiles were launched against airbases in Paramount Island. Soon, landings would occur from the fleet's LPH and LPDs, but for now, gaining tactical naval and air superiority was the order of the day. For Paramount Islands would be the first to fall; then the fleet would sweep down into the Arcis Peninsula and the Illiorian colony next to it. The East Haven Fleet was only one of such task forces arranged, but it was the only one to actually strike on the opening day of the war. The others bid their time in anticipation of a NATO response.

Like the castle in its corner
In a medieval game
I foresee terrible trouble
And I stay here just the same

--Steely Dan, Dirty Work


"It's showtime." Captain Driss Morceli spins around in his chair as a couple of Sergeants toil behind him; the product of their labors so far-- a small stack of manila file folders--arrayed on their communal desk. A few more heads are lifted across the office as the communications room begins to rumble with mirth.

"Thank you, Master Sergeant. Keep in touch of Field Marshal Merodach's office for me, will you?"

"Yes, sir."

Morceli flies to the door and tosses it open hurriedly, turning on his heels
once out the door and making tracks for Field Marshal Holmstrom's office. As
he's walking, he takes the time to browse over Master Sergeant Ruya's report. The Pax 15th had been waiting for the other shoe to drop for some time now. Arda had been among the first to deploy, and had been at a state of readiness dating back to the end of the Freekish campaign in British Londinium. The newly commissioned Cerulean 4th Fleet would leave its moorings within days or perhaps hours, and the reserves being levied by the Angsiyan across the Ardan continent were copius.

The Southron Captain lifts his head at the sound of footsteps. The increase in officer traffic tells Morceli that word is getting out. Instinctively he quickens his pace as Lieutenants and Captains traipse past him alone or in pairs, invariably discussing the situation excitedly in whatever language they might share. The men seem relieved and nervous at the same time; an odd combination of emotions that Morceli can only hope the Ardan military might find useful. No one wanted to disappoint their superiors, and Arda always prided itself on an impressive track record in international warfare.

But that was all under Morgoth. Arda's new military doctrine had yet to be executed on foreign soil. Gone now were the massive throng of Orcs that would invariably precede a concentrated advance, gone were the days when men of Dunland and Rhûn became 'champions' by polishing off an already overrun force. Anyone in Arda with a uniform and a gun knew it was time to forge a new military legacy; they knew it was time to adapt or die.

Morceli takes a moment to compose himself as he steps into Field Marshal Homstrom's anteroom. A fresh-faced secretary stands up and smiles. "Hello, Captain," she gushes. Morceli hands out the reports.

"Hello, Miss Kamile. No doubt you've heard?"

She cocks her head as she takes them. "Heard what?"

Morceli's shoulders slump slightly and he kicks himself for asking. He was a soldier--he didn't mind war-- but this woman was a civilian secretary and he suspected the news would ruin her day; or at the very least it would make her a lot less happy than she seemed to be acting at the moment. He closes his eyes and exhales before answering. "It's all starting. The Commonwealth is finally showing some signs of life."

As predicted, the color drains from Miss Kamile's face and she sits back down. An awkward silence lingers for a moment but she turns back to him, flushed, and smiles. "It was bound to happen sooner or later, Captain Morceli." She stands again. "I'm sure we'll all manage just fine!"

The Southron Captain smiles; he's genuinely relieved. "Is the Field Marshal busy at the moment? I'd like to discuss this report with him if he has the time."

Kamile's head snaps to her computer and she squints at it. "He's in a meeting with Brigadier Vasi and Lieutenant Colonels Toth and Agani. Normally I'd not interrupt him with it but if I haven't heard about this yet surely he can't have either. I'll buzz you in."

Morceli straightens up a bit and sighs, absently flexing his hands as he prepares himself for the ritual of confronting his superiors. "Thanks, Miss Kamile."

***
Back in Arda, somewhere over southwest Dunland

Sky Marshal Arsan Ozalan peers through his binoculars and watches as the crewmen on his six Siegund class Kinetic Missile platforms scuttle about. "Tell those louts to get a move on," snarls the Haradrim Sky Marshal to his aide, roughly shoving his binoculars towards the unfortunate man. "I want those Eru-damned tubes cleared in five minutes.

His aide manages a nervous salute. "Yes, sir," he yelps, grateful for the moment to be spared from the spectacle of Ozalan's company. A boisterous and overbearing man, Ozalan attempted to dominate even his superiors; a trait that resulted in him being kicked upstairs to manage a detachment of missile platforms. Ozalan would likely never get to leave Arda, and he vented this rage on his subordinates.

He had the vague satisfaction of knowing he caused massive explosions thousands of miles away, but it was a cold comfort to a man who so markedly preferred front line work. He carried a bullwhip coiled at his side and frequently attempted to make use of it, with varying results. War had made a monstrosity of his character; and he knew and hated it.

As he watches the missiles scream from their tubes, he cracks a satisfied smile. Perhaps he could find some comfort in the fact that his orders would go down as being Arda's first. His guns would rip the peace from the skies and bring its nemesis crashing down on the enemy.

Yes, that would do.*

***
No diplomatic communique was forthcoming from either the Serechav or any other such independent office or military organizaion. A relative hush seized Arda as she prepared for the plunge: her first, reformed. History would soon bear their story; Althalon and his ministers had every intention of making it a good one. All across the continent, reserves would be marshalled and shipped to Rhûn for a refresher campaign against Morgoth's Orc-remnants before making the journey to Haven. The newly commissioned Fourth Fleet would soon leave its moorings to lay down the last remains of the Cerulean Imperica's supply infrastructure, eventually joining the Third in combat over Haven.

In Allanea, excercises continued but not major movement of troops or materiel could be seen. It would appear as if the Ardan Marshals intended to wait, and had no apparent desire to be the first to strike over the Allanean corridor. Beck and Esarhaddon played their cards close to their chests, revealing little of their plans even to their Allanean hosts.

The first shots had been fired. Soon, the world would witness once more as it so often had the immense, apocalyptic destruction of modernized warfare.

Arda, as she would soon demonstrate, was more than ready.

*See OOC thread.

RAF Fairemount, Clandonian Virgin Islands

The listening post and satellite relay station at Fairemount had been listening in on the local chatter in the Eastern Haven area. The small island chains were only around 4000 km's away from Paramount and Clandonian cruise liners that operated from the Virgin Islands frequently visited the Skyian tropical holiday destination. Monitoring the tensions in this remote part of the region the Royal Air Force Intelligence Section at the base had been carefully listening into both Questerian and NATO communications. It was pratically dark on this far side of the Haven and the little island resort chain was coming to life as a night time destianation, full of drunken Clandonian sailors and marines fighting in bars.

"A lot of chatter this hour sir." Spoke one corporal sitting his mug of tea, dressed in a white uniform in the air conditioned room at the base. Suddenly a screech rang through the headphones of the operators, causing their ears pain and the static hum from the speakers filled the room.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Snapped the duty officer, looking at the surprised operations crew. Furiously checking logs and tapping on keyboards, clicking mice to see what the loud anomaly was.

"Christ, something happened on Paramount..."

"Report!" Shouted another officer, rushing into the room from the Sat Ops room room from down the hallway.

"What the bloody hell is happening?" Spoke the puzzled officer noting the arrival of the Sat Ops officer.

"I think the war has begun sir."


3rd Grand East Haven Battlefleet, 600 km's South of the Paramount Islands

The 3rd Battlefleet was heading for their home destination at Southampton Town when the report of some incident at Paramount came on the telewriter. Tearing off the paper from the dot matrix printer, marked priority urgent to Battlefleet Sea Admiral Sir Piers Winfery. The officer ran up the stairs from the Command Centre in the heart of the Sovereign Class Dreadnought, HMS Privy to find his superior who was in the middle of dinner with the other ships captains in the mess, one hundred captains from every ship in the battlefleet. Startled waiters and serving staff looked at the bedragled officer and the Admiral was wondering what his Chief Communications Office was doing in here.

Walking up to the table, clutching the print out in a breathless state handing it to Sir Winfery who had just been eating a mouthfall of salmon, spitting it out into a napkin as he rushed out. The beeping of pagers and short range communicators filled the dining room as Captains were informed of the incident.

The war had begun.

On the way down to the Command Centre the lighting flicked to red, as the ship rigged for red. The red light noted that the situation had changed, peace was over in this part of the region with the Clandonian ships now in full range of either side they had decided to hop skip back to the defences of the Virgin Islands as the Clandonians upped their alert level world wide. As the sketchy reports began appearing in the capital where it was still lunch time, the media would not find out for a good while but a message was on its way so Sir Philips at the Grey Conferance in Velkya for the non-aligned nations.

And so it begins again.

Georgetown, United Kingdom

Amidst the concerns over the impending war, Prime Minister Rodney Ingrahm still had other domestic priorities, near the top of his list the reform of the Oceanian education system, requisite to continuing Oceanian economic power in the world. Before him under subdued lighting sat a few hundred educators, barristers, parents, students, and a gaggle of fellow MPs, all listening intently.

"It is quite clear," Ingrahm continued after finishing his brief sip of water, replacing the glass underneath the lectern's surface, "that the paramountcy of the United Kingdom rests upon her economic engine. That engine, however, is not built in a vacuum. It does not exist as a separate indivisible entity apart from us. Rather it is built upon the creativeness, industriousness, and studiousness instilled upon our children in their earliest years. Consequen--"

He felt a quiet tap on his shoulder, and looked over to see his communications director standing beside him. Ingrahm quickly raised his hand to cover the microphone, "what is it?"

"A report from Osborne, sir, it has begun."

HMS King George
Strobovia Strait

From the Admiral's Bridge, actually more of a command and control compartment buried deep within the bowels of his flagship, Admiral Sir Wesley Osborne quietly sipped Sarnian tea from his china cup. Beneath him on a large tabletop display various red and blue icons crept on projected paths, moving millimetres at a time. To the south of him and his fleet lay the coast of Greater Kingdom, and beyond that, just within the scope of his airborne surveillance network of drones and two early-warning aircraft were thousands of Questarian aircraft and missiles taking to the skies headed towards San Nereiana.

Upon initial receipt of the data, he had ordered a message sent with utmost priority to the Admiralty to be immediately relayed to the Prime Minister. Already, coordination with the Oceanian Royal Air Force units stationed in Carpanthium meant a few hundred RAF interceptors were en route to rendezvous with his surveillance flight. Along the narrowest part of the Strait, the picket flotillas had sounded general quarters, upon closer inspection only to the nervous but watchful eyes of a radar operator.

His submarines lay quiet for the time being while his missile cruisers patrolled at a slow ten knots alongside the dreadnoughts and other capital ships, all the while their escorts sprinted and drifted straining to hear the faintest sound of a submerged enemy contact. Aboard amphibious ships, Royal Marines broke down, cleaned, inspected, double-checked then reassembled their kit while mechanics triple checked the engines and the tracks and the gun systems on the embarked tanks, IFVs, and other armoured vehicles.

Coppers Grove
Cravanian Overseas Territory

"All is ready, General." Beneath the city, the staff and commanders of the various UK regiments dug in around the area coalesced near a large display board hung off the wall, tacked with various cutouts of Northfordian, Cravanian, Oceanian, and Midlonian units.

"This, ladies and gentlemen," Major General Gordon Nicholas bellowed, drawing the attention of every officer in the underground bunker, "is the enemy and these are our targets," he continued apace, swatting the board with a large balsa pointer. "As we speak, NATO air units here, primarily RAF, Cravanian, Illorian, and Midlonian I believe, shall be lifting off from their bases and launching the first of several waves of interdiction missions targeting Northfordian command and control points, along with vital elements of their infrastructure not needed for our assault."

Brigadier Peter Costello grimmaced, his was a mechanised infantry brigade and would spearhead the NATO invasion of Northford once the order came. For now his fellow brigadiers looked upon Nicholas with equal near-astonishment. They had been training for months, and were fully worked up. But everyday the same photos of massed artillery and armour on both sides of the border tempered what had once been eagerness to enter the fray. Many would die in the first hours of the ground war.

Already, the city of Coppers Grove had become a fortress of sorts, large artillery pieces fully retractable within hardened shelters while anti-tank ditches and 21st century trenches provided a line into which Northfordians would have to crash in any attempt to move through Carpanthium.

Camp Harrow
Cravanian Overseas Territory

What had once hosted a single brigade had burgeoned into the command centre for the entirety of the Oceanian Expeditionary Force, all under the command of Major-General Malcolm Gallagher, who watched from underneath the shade of a tree as tankers loaded rounds into their vehicles. He had been on the way back from visiting the commander of an armoured brigade when a freckle-faced runner had burst into the meeting, waving some piece of paper as if the world were about to come to an end.

At least, that is what Gallagher had thought at the moment only to read the terse confirmation of orders as a sickening confirmation of his first thought. The war had begun, and with Questers in the north moving and striking at Allanea and Azaha striking a first blow in the south, thus far the Commonwealth had the initiative. Far from fortuitous without a doubt, however, Gallagher comforted himself with the thought that NATO had known such a hammer was to fall upon its territories and forces. He had thought that the freckle-faced kid would have interrupted his dinner last night, the shower the day before, or any number of potentially awkward situations in the past two weeks.

RAF Coppers Grove

Three kilometres east of the city lay a hastily built, eponymous Royal Air Field. On the tarmac were the alert strike fighters and interceptors tasked with defending Carpanthium and executing a first strike against Commonwealth targets in and around Northford. Andriy Kravchenko, a Novikovian pilot recently inducted into the Royal Air Force as part of the Integration Act, had been physically engaged with a buxom Cravanian he had met two days past at the local pub in town.

And then the klaxons sounded.

Hundreds of kilometres from Coppers Grove, the Commonwealth air forces were putting to the skies, along with cruise missiles. Kravchenko knew nothing other than that his buxon beauty would have to wait for another day--if she survived. Like hundreds of others, Kravchenko knew full well what the klaxons meant. The war had started.

According to the intelligence estimates, the RAF would have fifteen perhaps thirty minutes to clear the tarmac and hangars before heavy ordnance started to fall. Kravchenko hurried threw on a flight suit and ran out to his fighter, watching as crew chiefs and fellow pilots swarmed out of barracks and bunkers like bees disturbed from their nest.

By the time he got to his Nimbostratus, his cockpit was open and the mechanic hurriedly running through the pre-flight checks, air-to-air and air-to-groud munitions already strapped underneath his wings pursuant to his squadron's current task of the alert strike package.

In a few minutes, Kravchenko's multi-million pound aircraft was rocketing into the clear blue sky, his aircraft flying quiet with the most minimal amount of emissions possible. He signaled his flight to fall behind as the Cravanian territory zipped past underneath him, all a blur of greenish-brown with speckles of grey and black.

At five kilometres from the Northfordian border, the escorting electronic warfare craft flipped on their jammers and rose above the strike package, including Kravchenko. As they prepared to cross the border, he armed his anti-radiation missiles and loosed off a pair; they would scream over the land at supersonic speeds, homing in on radar transmissions until they would likely shut off. Then, the missiles would loiter about until the radar stations re-activated and the missiles would plummet for their targets at speeds near Mach 4.

Crossing the border, he next loosed a pair of Ranseur cruise missiles. Not as fast as the anti-radiation missiles, they were stealthier. They were also targeting different elements of the Northfordian defence infrastructure, most importantly airfields, where bunker-busting warheads would hopefully penetrate into the ground to eliminate fuel tanks and sub-munition warheads would release tandem warhead bomblets that would first penetrate the surface of the runways and then detonate the bulk of their explosives to create large craters and render the airfields inoperable.

Along the Norhfordian border, from the five airfields with alert strike and interceptor squadrons, RAF fighters were screaming towards the aerial border. The four eastern-most strike squadrons concentrated on airfields, like Kravchenko's squadron, communications centres, and transport hubs such as rail junctions and motorway overpasses. The furthest north squadron, however, had a different target. That squadron flew low and along the coast, using their Ranseurs and their range of over 1,300 kilometres to target the shipyards and naval infrastructure closest to Carpanthium. All told, it wasn't a large strike package, each squadron only operating twenty-four aircraft except for Kravchenko's with twenty-three (one down for maintenance) and the southernmost where only twenty-two were in the air. Three days before a mid-air collision during a live-fire training operation claimed two aircraft and one of the pilots.

Excepting the electronic escorts and interceptors tasked with fending off Northfordian fighters, each aircraft carried four cruise missiles and two anti-radiation missiles. Although even before reaching their targets, three cruise missiles went off course and crashed just inside the Northfordian border while four aircraft each had trouble launching one of their missiles.

Strobovia Strait

Tasked with first strike operations, four Surreptitious class submarines had been lingering at the extreme range of their comm depths, waiting for what each captain knew was inevitable. And as Osborne's data was received at the Admiralty, pre-prepared orders were sent to the four submarines watching the Ripon Channel.

Much of what was coming would follow in the second wave, that would take twenty minutes or so to arrange from the Expeditionary Fleet, but the first strike submarines knew their mission and knew their odds. They quietly rose to optimal launch depth and each loosed twenty-four sub-launched Ranseur cruise missiles. Not as long-legged as their air-launched counterparts, their range of just over a thousand kilometres was sufficient to hit the air defence installations guarding the outermost Northfordian navy installations.

Their work done, each sub silently slipped into the depths of the Strait and set to moving away from their launch area, waiting to strike out next at the inevitable Northfordian response.

I answer the call of Freedom with grace
Don my gear, camo my face
The responsibility upon my shoulders
Surmount these challenges like a climber to boulders
And as liberty's torch is held up high
I know it's true I may very well die
But if I meet death on this wretched field
Freedom moves on, it does not yield
I fight for this, my cause is true
To allow liberty to always shine through
There is no better cause, no more clear
Than to die for liberty without fear

"The Echoes of Liberty"
Cpt. Gavin Cauldson, Imperial Cravanian Marine Corps, Ret.


Unified Strategic Command
South-Central Cravan
Command Center, Bunker Complex Four

As tensions continued to rise throughout the world, the men and women who worked in Bunker Complex Four continued to monitor events around the world as they occured. The officer of the watch, a Commander Harold Briggs of the Cravanian Imperial Navy, sat at his desk towards the back of the situation room, upon a raised platform that gave him a view of the workstations on the command floor below. The room was dimly lit, mostly illuminated by the ghostly green and blue glows of the various display screens. A massive, pannable digital map of the world lay on the front wall of the room, wih clocks displaying times from various major cities around the world set upon the world above the display.

"Sir, sketchy reports of activity around the Paramount Islands are flooding in from various sources.", came the shout of one technician below, his hand raised high above his head to get the Commander's attention. More and more technicians around the room began submitting reports, most of them unconfirmed, until a priority message from Laurana arrived. Briggs read the message, and after reading it three more times the gravity of the situation finally registered in his brain.

"What's wrong, sir?", a female Ensign asked from her desk.
"Captain.", he shouted across the room to a computer operator, ignoring the Ensign before him for the moment. "Bring us to conventional DEFCON One. Ladies and gentlemen, from this moment on, we are at war."

The greens and blues were soon supplemented with reds, oranges, and yellows as the Empire entered the early stages of finally kicking its mobilized forces to war.

The Falcon's talons were sharpened. Now the safties were off.

*****************

His Imperial Cravanian Majesty's Ship Courage, CVN-40
6th Imperial Carrier Assault Group
68km off the north-eastern coast of Carpanthium

"Flight Hotel, you are cleared, light 'em up."

The engines of the CF-3 Archon lit up as she rocketed off the deck of the HICMS Courage, an Illustrious-class assault carrier. The squadron of eight was in the air relatively quickly, and immediately established their perimeter around the Sixth. These Archons were the advance group sent up to secure the area, with a further three more squadrons to be launched in quick succession from the two carriers of the Sixth. This advance flight in particular was the 51st Tactical Naval Fighter Squadron "Gray Eagles," which were of the Fourteenth Naval Air Division of His Imperial Majesty's Imperial Cravanian Naval Air Force, a branch of the Imperial Cravanian Air Force. Led by Lieutenant Jose "Sapinian Tigershark" Mandirez, the group was considered one of the best the Naval Air Force had to offer, being a combat-hardened unit from the conflict with Naasha some time ago.

"This is Lieutenant Mandirez of the Gray Eagles, commencing combat air patrol."
"Copy that, Eagles.", the carrier replied. "We have your IFF tags on scopes."

The Cravanian Air Force was fairly lax when it came to a squadron's custom paint job, usually leaving it up to the crew and maintenence personnel to decide if it was worth their time to put the effort in. Usually, however, Cravanian planes became spectacular pieces of art depending on the squadron's colors and design. The Eagles' were no exception. Despite having a base battleship gray, to represent being the "Gray Eagles," the colored profile of an eagle was painted on the underside of the fuselage, spectacularly detailed and refined. The scars of being used on a carrier had of course taken its toll on the paint, but the eagle still remained soaring, representing the freedom which these pilots defended every day.

"Zero unfriendly contacts on scopes, Courage. You sure we have to hold this pattern for two shifts?"
"Keep at it, reports of combat just south of you between Commonwealth forces and Allanean colonial forces are running rampant, and these straights are crucial if we're to carry out the plans that've been handed down. You have your orders, we have our's. Hope you drank some coffee before going up, kids."

*****************

Imperial Palace
Laurana, Cravan

Almost half a world away in Laurana, the night sky fluttered brilliantly with twinkling stars, while the lights of the distant commerce district shined in a city which never slept. All the while, Emperor Robert II stood on the front balcony which overlooked the gardens, taking in the sights and sounds of the night. The noise of cars both near and far dominated his ears. And yet, with all of this vivid imagery surrounding him, the thought of the dark days, weeks, months, even years ahead was the only thing on his mind.

His trance-like state was interrupted, however, with the sound of a toddler's cry in the night. The shrill noise came not from the city before him, but instead the open door behind him. Turning around, he saw as his wife rose from her slumber, donning a bathrobe to cover her slender figure which was quite visible in her short black slip. She exited the Imperial Bedroom, walking down the hallway towards their daughter's room. Robert rose, following her, knowing that his daughter had probably had a nightmare yet again.

Arriving in the room, he found his wife stroking their daughter's forehead, singing her a lullaby to soothe her back to a restful slumber. For the first time that day, a smile appeared on Robert's lips. For all the problems his country faced on a daily basis, there were still these little things that, which most other parents would find frustrating, he found relieving..

His wife rose from comforting their daughter, who had already fallen back to sleep. She glanced at her husband, shaking her head with a smile as her tired dark brown eyes sympahtized with him.

"Get back to bed. It'll be a long day for you tomorrow.", she said softly. "I'll stay here and make sure she sleeps."

Without words, Robert smiled, and returned to the Imperial Bedroom. He fell to his dreams before he realised how tired he really was, and enjoyed the small amount of sleep he would have in the coming weeks.

Morning would come too soon, though, as the first days of the war brought about some of the toughest decisions the young monarch would ever have to make.

*****************

Unified Strategic Command
South-Central Cravan
Command Center, Bunker Complex Four

Commander Briggs stood right up against the world display, still awaiting the arrival of the various heads of each Cravanian military branch. Panning the map by brushing his hand over the screen, a large multi-touch input touchscreen on which the map was displayed, Briggs mostly hovered the display over Haven, all friendly and known enemy movements marked accordingly. His fingertips gently brushed upon the screen spinning the 3D globe displayed ever so slightly with each passing stroke.

"My God.", he remarked to himself. "There's friendlies and enemies everywhere in Haven. I mean hell, the entire south-eastern region is a sea of red and blue and green."

Briggs watched in amazement as the markers and dots danced to and fro across the map, the further in he zoomed the more units marked down.

"This conflict has only just begun... And already it's bigger than I could have imagined..."
"Commander Briggs.", he heard from behind him. The room went silent as technicians turned to see. Sure enough, a man in standard navy-blue dress uniform stood in the doorjamb, removing his hat as he walked down to the command floor. Briggs took note of the man's rank, and immediately snapped to attention. Major General Louis Denardio, Commander in Chief of the Imperial Air Force, had arrived.

"General, sir, what can I do for you?"
"Well, first of all get one of your aides to fetch me a coffee and fill me in on what's happened so far. It'll be a while until the other Commanders arrive."

Briggs pointed to a nearby junior officer, motioning to get coffee. He then returned his gaze to the General.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"
"Granted."
"It's a God damned clusterfuck out there, sir."

Strobovia Strait
Force D:
HIQMS YAMASHIRO
13th July

"Captain on deck!"

Fleet Admiral Keyes strode into the control deck deep inside the superdreadnought, still wiping sleep from his eyes. It was eight am. He only said one thing as his XO looked at him. The XO's eyes were a mixture, something Keyes had never seen before. Fear, pride, adrenalin, confusion. But mostly fear. They never thought it would come to this, but it had, and as officers they were no different from evey other man in the Imperium: ready to lay down his life for God, King, Country, Family, and Liberty. At this point in time, anyway.

"Has it begun?"

He nodded. "Sir." The XO said, almost shaking. "We have received orders from the Admiralty. We are to clear the Strobovian Straits."

"I know." Keyes said. After all, he'd been told what the massive fleet assembled for him to do such a thing was supposed to be doing. Clearing the Strob Strait and making the waters around Questers, and especially Juumanistra, safe. For this they had been given two of the most powerful capital ships in the Navy, the Fuso and the Yamashiro, which Fleet Admiral Keyes had taken his flag onboard.

"Execute Operation Cleansweep." He said, taking his seat in the Admirals chair.

The correct pre-determined commands were sent out to the ships and Force D began to move, slowly picking up speed to 21 knots, as it sallied out from the South Coast of Mudkipz. Detaching and speeding up an expeditionary force labelled Force DD led by the fast battlecruisers, destroyers, and landing ships of the fleet to go and assault the Allanean holdings in Mudkip. However, this main fleet would slowly start to peel south and begin to engage any NATO forces in the Strobovia Strait. The first attack was a long ranged missile attack on the Cravanian Fleet. Fifteen County Class cruisers with respective escorts split off from the main fleet and began to engage with their long rang SS-25 missiles. This was of course only the first wave, just designed to thin down the numbers. Most of the missiles would be used when the fleets got closer, and some had ot be saved for the Oceanian fleet, of course. In total each cruiser let loose a hundred SS-25s in three large waves of 500 missiles every five minutes.

The five Hiryu carriers and their ten light carrier counterparts were in range for a strike, however. The CAP was already up in the air, but Keyes knew he had the advantage and decided to be aggressive. He began to launch his fighters first, and then the strike bombers loaded down with heavy anti shipping missiles. All in all, as fast as could possible be, over six hundred A7H air superiority fighters of the Fourth Air Flotilla where in the air escorting the four hundred M3F strike bombers. The bombers were fairly vulnerable, but as soon as they were in effective range they could launch their missiles and pull out. The job of the fighters in this case was to break the Cravanian CAP. They were reinforced with 200 other fighters from the light carriers which sallied some time behind them; this was typical Questarian doctrine, to provide a reserve of fighters that could aid the CAP, intercept bombers or AWACS, or make sure no enemy reinforcements attacked from behind. The Wings were grouped into groups of twenty, five finger-four formations; one formation for fore, starboard, port, and rear, and one for centre, for the fighter wing formations. The bombers flew in groups of two, one to cover the others rear in case of interception.

The pilots were worried, but by the time they were in the air and could see hundreds of their wingmates from their cockpits, adrenalin and pride in their task took over. It was a scary thought that, if they could achieve victory, even through death, billions of people around the world would know about it and would be celebrating their sacrifice. But inside, deep inside, each man and woman still had their sense of self-preservation that is inside each human being; the will to see ones family and friends again and stay alive, but each was ready to sacrifice their lives to protect these things if neccessary. The pilots of the IQNAS were not conscripts; not reservists. It was a purely volunteer force of elite airmen with one of the finest esprit de corps in the world. They would show the enemy their strength of arms, as the propaganda posters said. The time for talking was over; now it was time for fighting. Covering them where UAVs and landbased AWACs from Azaha which where well away from the CAP, but could still move in to support. It would be a glorious day. Unless you were Cravanian.

Paramount Islands
AWACS 'Spotlight'
13th July, 2018

It was a bright and sunny day over the Paramount Islands. All was not easy, the Questarians were only just outside the territorial waters and their CAP was buzzing like angry bees. The Skyians had an easy time keeping pace, over 22,000 combat aircraft had been dedicated to

"Captain!" Came the yell from one of the Radar Intercept Officerss in the middle of the aircraft. "It's begun, the Questarians have launched their attack."

"Alert Paramount Strategic Military Command." Ordered Captain Louis, a veteran of several Skyian Campaigns, including the Red Tide War and the Generian Attack on Aralonia. He was sad that more bloodshed was to come.

"Yes sir!" Came the slightly over enthusiastic reply.

Paramount Islands
SRNS Kraken
13th July, 2018

"Admiral Sutherland! Orders from PSMC, the war has begun." Came the yell from a communications officer.

"Well, give the order, destroy them right here and now!" Said Admiral Sutherland from his chair on the combat control center deep in the bowels of the Kraken. With over 1,200 combat ships and submarines at his command he was ready for nearly anything.

As radar of the fleet AEWs and land based AWACs tracked the missiles the data began to feed into every unit in the area via 'StrikeNet' the Skyian Strategic Data Network.

The RIM-501ULR Firebolt Ultra-Long Range SAMs, 800 of them, were launched at the outbound bombers, at Mach 6.4 with a 640km range they were sure to bag some.

The RIM-501MR Starbolt Medium Range and Missile Defence SAMs, were given the dirty, but essential task of engaging the incoming SS-25 Sovereigns and protecting the fleet

Within seconds of the missiles breaking the 150km mark the sky became full of rocket trails as the missiles began to ripple fire off towards their target. Over 4,000 missiles, launched from frigates and destroyers flew into the sky to engage the missiles at a safe range.

About 2000 of the missiles were intercepted successfully, a decent amount for how advanced the missiles were supposed to be. The Skyians did have another tier of missile defense, the SA-N-60 Bishop from Mekugi. These missiles were launched from VLS or specially designed 55mm Gun/Missile Systems and had a range of 43km.

As soon as the missiles came within 50km the air became filled with the thunderous noise of 200 missiles flying into the sky. About 30 missiles made it through the SAMs striking at various frigates and destroyers, sending them to the bottom of the deep water while two cruisers were heavily damaged by two missiles and another two outright sunk by three hits, it had been functioning as a rely between a frigate flotilla and a fleet and was caught in the open.

As soon as the missiles were launched 256 F/A-84B 'Shadow' Stealth Air Superiority Fighter began to stalk the enemy bombers and their escorts at Mach 2.8, they operated under electronic silence as AWACs vectored them in on the enemy planes. As they got within 200km of the enemy planes they began to launch their long range missiles. Overall, 768 AIM-801L 'Lighting Strike' Extra Long Range AAMs, with a 450km range and a Mach 6 speed were launched at the bombers and fighters. The F/A-84Bs then peeled off and established a CAP between the fleet and the enemy carriers, firing off their remaining 768 missiles at the incoming enemy bombers before dissappearing as another flight of 256 fighters came up to keep the CAP in place. They kept a altitude of 2,000ft to keep out LOS of any enemy ship based targeting radar while AWACs over 300km out kept feeding them data on the enemy planes.

Meanwhile, over 96 B-300C Super Hurricanes were heading towards the enemy carriers. Each carried 37 BGM-502 Longaxe Medium Range Cruise Missiles, 27 internally and 10 externally. With a range of 1,400km they were stand off missiles for use against enemy shipping. They would however, only be launched from half their range this time. Soon 3,552 missiles would be flying at the enemy combat ships.

The ICCMs would be handled by MIM-601L Thunderlance Long Range SAM, whose 450km range ment that their protective envelopes would overlap quite a bit allowing for the destruction of all but 5 of the SSG-33s, as a result only 2 airbases had 2 runways each taken out of the battle permenantly and 1 damaged to the point that only STOL capable craft could use it.

Now came the counter attack. Over 5,000 Longaxe MRCMs were launched from the Skyian 1st Armada towards the Questarian Carriers and capital ships. The Questarians would reget ever starting this war. They were almost totally surrounded by ships, submarines and hostile land forces. 2,000 Rufous AShMs were launched from batteries along the shore at escorts and capital ships.

Also, fifteen hidden 33.3" Gun batteries began to open fire with ERGM shells, their 250km range giving them the ability to hit Questarian Carriers and Battleships with their 11,300kg shells.

However, the Skyians weren't done yet. The Questarian fleet had been followed by two wolf packs of 10 Jörmungandr-Class Nuclear Attack Submarine (SSN)s each, from 75km away since they had come within 600km of the islands.

These submarines were perhaps the deadilest sub-surface, conventional weapon carrying combatant in all of Haven, truly a marvel of New Akvarian Engineering.

They generally carried a completment of cruise missiles, but instead they received 1000mm in their VLS tubes. They were literally torpedo arsenal ships, affectionatly reffered to as Torpedo Whores by their crews. Within seconds of the Questarians launching their attack and them getting the go ahead they began to launch their loaded complement of twenty 1000mm Broadsword Ultra-Heavy Torpedos at the enemy ships, with a speed of 40 knots and a range of 100km they were sure to hit at least something.

Two more wolf packs, between the fleet and the island, also launched their complement of torpedoes at the incoming landing ships before scooting off to reload.

The other remaining 80 SSNs began to launch their eighteen RGM-101LR Fireblast Long Range Anti-Shipping Missiles, with a cruise of Mach 3 and a range of 450km they would be sure to penetrate some ships armor with their Mach 4.25 Terminal Speed and 625kg warhead.

Total casualties for the first attack included four cruisers and five destroyers as well as 10 frigates sunk/heavily damaged and 5 runways knocked out with 10 FB-177s and 5 F/A-84s knocked out on the ground and 1000 personal KIA and 2000 MIA or injured, plus those lost onboard the ships.

It had begun.

Deep, several meters underground in Richmond, Northford's only mega city, the War had begun. Amongst piles of paperwork, Laptop Screens and Coffee stains, word had reached the core of the Northfordian Government just what was unfolding thousands of miles away. Not that this in itself was a... problem... in fact, it was quiet convenient: On the orders of the Questarian Imperial Government, only 4 days ago, most of the Northfordian Executive had been ordered to go ‘to ground’, with only those necessary to the ‘illusion’ remain in their normal positions. Such a rouse was easy to maintain, too: it was summer in Northford, and Parliament was ‘off’ for 3 Months, there were no new Governmental Policies to be implemented, so not only was a fair part of the Government underground, a large amount of the Civil Service infrastructure was too.

Despite this, however, there were… problems that compounded the situation a great deal. The Prime Minister, Alan Brookes was abroad… his exact whereabouts were unknown, and the running of the Government had been left to the Foreign Minister, James Tricker, and the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Dave Fenlon.

To say things were a ‘Messed up’ would be a really severely fucking gross understatement…

…Not that it mattered, though. After all, as everybody knew it wasn’t Northfordians that pulled the strings in Northford anyway…

===

Atlee Islands, Strobovia Straight

Sitting over his control panel, Lieutenant Sean Smith shouldn’t, by rights, should have had the most boring Job in the whole of the Northfordian Military. Watching of the activation panel for the Islands small stocks of Intercontinental Missiles and Standard ASM’s, it was his job to fire ensure they were in a ‘suitable state of readiness’, and his job to fire them. A ‘Suitable State of Readiness’, however, in recent months that had come to mean ‘Ready to Fire’, not just merely in a ‘Good State of Working Order’.

He was sitting down, playing minesweeper and drinking coffee when word came. Word directly from Imperial General Head Quarters in Questers, in the form of several small flashing lights on the console. The “Orders”, “IGHQ”, “Level 5”, and “Attack Pattern One” were all alight. To those not versed in understanding Strategic Orders (S.O’s), what that was essentially saying was that Imperial General Headquarters was issuing an order to commence a prearranged attack, of the Strategic Level 5 and Pattern ‘1’.

Not quite aware of what he was doing, Lieutenant Smith went into it ‘Auto Pilot’, carrying out the order as if it were just one of the many drills he had carried out before. Hitting a number of buttons, he caused the small naval emplacement to go into overdrive, starting ‘The Siren’, as it was affectionately known. Within several moments, the commanding officers of the station had assembled by his side, ready to give the joint activation codes.

“Do you hve the Activation codes, Sir?” asked Smith to the officers, frowning slightly when they all nodded in agreement.

“Lets do this then.” He said, opening the flip up panel. The Officers proceeded to each enter their four digits of the code, in order, clearing the Missiles to launch.

“Commencing attack in 5…4…3…2…1” counted down the most senior officer, wearing a Questarian Uniform. As the countdown ended, a rather different noise replaced the Questarians monotone voice. The sound of expanding gas filled the room-the noise made when 125 ICCM’s were being propelled out of their launch tubes, along with several dozen large mine-laden Cruise Missiles’s, targeted at various points in he Allanean sector of the Strobovia Strait.

It had begun.

===

Kepler’s Edge, South-East Haven

In Northford’s Southern Colony, things simply didn’t change. Come rain or shine, two things didn’t change: Re-enforced Concrete, and Fishermen. Essentially consisting of a Military Fortification on a large plateau, and a small fishing port, there was not much else in Kepler’s Edge. The fishing port, Loughborough, wasn’t really much to look at- it was located towards the North of the Colony, it had two piers, a small harbour and several houses. The piers were quite literally ‘knocked up’ by Northfordian Naval Engineers over two weeks, using locally sourced timber, and wooden joinery, while the houses were simply insulated shipping containers welded together. They provided housing for the fishermen overnight, and also served as refrigeration devices in winter, allowing them to make longer trips. The Port was hardly secure either- the sentries consisted of feral dogs, and several illegally released Northfordian Lynxes.

The massive Military Fortifications, however, were a different story. Covering 1/5th of the Island, they were designed to be the pinnacle of defensive engineering, acting as the beacon of the Questarian Commonwealth in extreme South East Haven. Designed to house be able to house two fleets, a small army, several airbases, as well as being the home for the FSEHSWD (Far-South-East-Haven-Strategic-Weapons-Depot).

There was, however, one slight problem with this masterpiece. It wasn’t finished. In the rapid mobilisation, Billions of Dollars were poured into rush constructing it, however, when it came to it, nature proved more enduring. Burrowing through Granite was hard, an expensive. Further, though money was poured in, most of it went into either ‘bare’ construction, or to the expensive circuitry in certain areas, or certain piece of hardware. Thus, though the base had several batteries of working 33” guns and the complex electronic systems needed to be able to co-ordinate them with Radar, they lacked reserves of ammunition. Meanwhile, the command room in which they were to be fired from, though it had the computers, televisions and projectors set up, the electronic wiring for everything from the computer themselves, to overhead lights, were sorely lacking. Also, further, as the bunkers got deeper, designed to house the Marines based there during a war, many of them lacked basic sanitation, or, indeed proper ‘walls’, merely reduced to a series of linked holes in a mountain.

There were other problems as well. Only two of the seven Reserve Osmosis plants on the base were operational due to various faults and accidents, and the closest spares were in the Clandonian Virgin Islands. Adding to it all, a ship that had dozens containers of food had recently sunk, taking with it tonnes of high energy MRE’s, reducing supplies on the base to one month.

Despite this, however, there were some high points. The airbases that were installed were slightly modified versions of the Northfordian ‘UrbanSky’* bases, and were fully operational, housing hundreds of VTOL ‘Lions’ purchased from Space Union.

===

“Roger two Zero, in the lift, in the lift AND LAUNCHING”

“Copy that Hellfire A, in the lift, in the lift AND LAUNCHING”

“Sea Three John, in the lift, in the lift AND LAUNCHING”

All across Kepler’s point, the modified UrbanSky bases were almost vomiting out SuF-5 Lion planes, launching them at 2 a minute, across 15 subterranean airbases, rapidly forming up Air Squadrons just above the airbases, using their VTOL capabilities to the full.

They were heading for Dresden City, a Cravanian Overseas Territory. It was largely de-navalised in the build up: from what could be worked out from Satellite the defence had been largely left to the Cravanian Air force.

In some ways, however, this made for a far more dangerous target, after all, two planes can fight each other on a ‘level’ footing, so to speak.

The Attack force that had been mustered consisted of 95 SuF-5 Lion’s, 45 configured to ‘Air Superiority’, with 50 configured to ‘Attack’. As well as this, there were 15 ‘Super Hurricanes’, the largest bombers in the Northfordian Airforces armoury. These mammoths could take upto 270,000 kg of Bombs or Missiles, and, in this case they were split fairly evenly. 10 of the Bombers were outfitted with long range Cruise Missiles, targetted at Airbases, while the remaining 40 were split into 20 carrying aptly named ‘Smart Bombs’, and 20 carrying a mix of Incendiary and High Explosive dumb bombs for one purpose: Firebombs. Finally, complimenting the assault force were two wings of ‘Wraiths’, the premier Air Superiority Fighters of the Northfordian Navy. Unlike the Lions, these things were designed with the sheer purpose of taking down other planes. They were equipped with a mix of Air-to-Air Missiles, and took the role of both the spearhead and the rearguard of the action.

Retribution would be wrought; it was just a matter of how much of a phyrric victory it would be…

===

OOC Notes: Carp and K’stan are being dealt with in separate posts/threads.

Notes 'bout UrbanSky: http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=11718208&postcount=48

Map for Kepler's Edge:

http://img444.imageshack.us/img444/6492/keplarseedgekv1.png

His Imperial Majesty's Cravanian Ship Espada del Imperio
200km behind the Strobovian Line
Opn. Fortress Strob, Zero Hour

"Sir, AWACS reporting heavy enemy activity coming down from the southern coast of Mudkipz into the straights. You orders?"

The Espada del Imperio, the Empire's Hood-class flagship, had made steam with her attached naval groups from Dresdon City, leaving the city undefended in the naval realm of things. The Strobovian Straights were much more important to Imperial Command.

Ft. Admiral Sir William Richards IV, a veteran of numerous past conflicts and the commanding officer of the Espada smiled to himself. He had been briefed on Operation Fortress Strob, and was well versed in the strategy which he was about to order to be executed.

"Contact Carpanthium. Execute."

**************************


Operation Fortress Strob

(Secret IC)


http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c381/crave22/FinalisedSWtheatre.png

Operation Fortress Strob's objective was simple: to deny Commonwealth access to its easiest link to eastern Haven. By controlling the Strob and the channel below the southern landmass, Questers and most of the Commonwealth would be entirely cut off from its eastern theatres.

The main ace in the hole of the Cravanians at Carpanthium was the convenient position of their territory in relation to the Allanean colony directly across the channel. With a direct line of fire between them, shore batteries and long-ranged AShM batteries would make quick work of craft entering the channel. Add to this the near-constant air patrols of NATO aircraft over the area, and the Strobovian Straights had become a fortress overnight.

The Questarians were playing right into Cravanian strategists' hands. And as they entered the range of the gun and missile batteries, the first NATO shots of the southwestern theatre sang out a beautiful roar of destructive power.

It had begun.

****************

72nd Strategic Bombing Wing, Group A
Standard Patrol Route Alpha-Foxtrot
10km east of the Strobovian Line

"All aircraft, level out to release ordinance.", Colonel Jack O'Hara announced as he pulled his CSB-22 Sariel level while flicking the bomb bay doors open. In his weapons bay were eight Rufous anti-shipping missiles, and his flight of twelve Sariels planned to fire them off in sync with the massed missile attack from land which was to be launched in a few seconds. The cheaper Sheperds which were being launched from land-based boxes were the fodder for the CIWS, while the Rufous missiles were the real killers. Targetted at Questarian carriers and capital ships, they were to cripple enemy capital assets in the opening minutes of the battle.

O'Hara eyed the watch he had taped to his cockpit panel carefully, although there was a digital clock nearby. His watch was more of a good luck charm than anything.

"On my mark, drop... Four, three, two, one, MARK."

As if one single finger pressed the fire button, ninety-six Rufous missiles were fired off over the course of a few dozen seconds. While the Rufous missiles streaked towards capital assets, their cheaper and smaller land-based counterparts were fired off by the hundreds at escorts to draw fire away.

"Payloads spent, headed back to friendly territory.", O'Hara announced as he led his squadron towards the mountain base in Carpanthium which harbored his unit. His unit would undoubtedly be moving further away, perhaps to nearby Scandavian territory if given permission, to protect the very valuable asset that is the Sariel.

***************


His Imperial Cravanian Majesty's Ship Courage, CVN-40
6th Imperial Carrier Assault Group
68km off the north-eastern coast of Carpanthium

"Admiral on deck!"
"At ease.", Rear Admiral Miranda Greewich announced as she approached her position on the bridge. "Damage report?"
"Four destroyers hit in our group by enemy missile fire, unkown in other groups. Most other missiles have been knocked out by combined CIWS and RAM coverage, but they're starting to come a little too fast. We can't hold off this missile spam for long."

The carrier rocked as a near-miss impacted the water nearby, sending up a plume of white.

"Your orders, Admiral?"
"Admiral! Enemy aircraft on attack heading, vector one-zero-one-two!"
"Are land-based planes scrambling?"
"Aye, ma'am. They're engaging their patrols now."
"Have them cut the enemy across the nose of the bomber formation while our carrier-based aircraft take on the escorts. I want our aircraft to get the altitude advantage, and fucking now."
"Aye, ma'am."

*********************

51st Tactical Naval Fighter Squadron "Gray Eagles"
Approaching enemy air armada
Lt. Jose "Sapinian Tigershark" Mandirez

The 51st were at the forefront of the naval air armada, gaining altitude and preparing their dive upon the oncoming enemy hordes of aircraft. Although outnumbered ever-so-slightly, the two hundred or so Archons from the two carriers which were at the forefront of the Cravanian naval assets had the advantage of their advanced and stealthy nature. And their ub3r1337 pilots, of course.

"Air Wing Alpha, saddle up and attack the left flank of the armada. Bravo come from the right. We're gonna descend upon these slit fuckers like a hurricane hits Space Union.", Mandirez heard his commanding air officer order as the group entered within 20km range of the Questarian aircraft. "We'll show these bastards what the true forces of liberty can do!"

The group continued on, supported by AWACS coverage from the east and south and by naval radar from just below. They had a good idea of the battle scenario, and satellite imagery also painted a vivid picture of Questarian positions, which was relayed to the pilots on the command network.

"Entering combat range, weapons free. Repeat, weapons free."

The air armada descended upon their prey like a pack of ravenous wolves, diving down from a 250 meter advantage and opening up the tremendous furball which was to ensue. A chorus of "Fox-Two" and Fox-Three" flooded the general Cravanian channels as the Archons let loose with a volley of MAAM and BVRAAM missiles, then speeding ahead of said missiles and diving down through the Questarian formation, now a full 100m of altitude between them with the Questarians above. The Archons quickly recovered with an about face, bringing themselves back up in unison as their surprise assault sank in with the Questarians, the Cravanians readying themselves for the return assault.

While the naval air arm blitzed the forward elements of the Questarian escort party, four squadrons of land based Opinicus fighters, affectionately nicknamed the Archon's "retarded little brother" by its Illiorian developers despite having defeated the Archon in every one on one combat scenario that had been run, began their assault on the bomber formation from below, climbing up and loosing a volley of MAAMs at the Questarian naval bombers. They quickly overturned, bringing themselves to about the same level as the bombers and systematically beginning their own blitz. For the moment the rear guard of Reppus was being ignored, to be dealt with later by an additional air wing of combined Archon and Opinicus fighters who would probably attack from the front flank and the rear. Until that time, however, as long as the forward escorts were distracted the reserve escorts were not as much a problem. If challenged, the Opinicus was more than capable of defending itself in a dogfight.

**********

OOC: lol stats
Opinicus (http://z7.invisionfree.com/Illiorian_Arms/index.php?showtopic=66)
Archon (http://z7.invisionfree.com/Illiorian_Arms/index.php?showtopic=67)

Empress Lien I Larsen was visiting The Pit. Thus far, her advisers had not felt it necessary to move the Empress' daily operations to the bunkers buried deep under her palace, so she could still make little side trips like visiting the heart and soul of the Joint Strategic Command. Beside her was her General of the Army, Brandon Jackson, explaining the various movement made so far.

"... For the time being we're holding the Army divisions on the islands until we know for sure what the Praetonians are going to do. We are also holding our Marine divisions up north in case the Praetonians do manage to gain a foothold somewhere and a counter-attack becomes necessary. Nobody finds the likelihood of that very high, but so far the enemy has not done what we've expected them to do."

"Which explains why we were caught flat on our feet," Lien opined.

Jackson nodded his head in agreement, "Indeed. We didn't expect them to actually invade Allanea and until that point we had planned for a more leisurely deployment schedule. The flipside of that is that by taking the initiative they have given us the superior strategic position in exchange. Given that by Imperial, or general NATO standards, most of their troops are poorly trained and equipped conscripts, it was a poor choice. In fairness, they only had poor choices, so I guess their planners decided to go that gave them an initial morale boost."

The Empress peered curiously at her Army's commander, "You don't expect that to last?"

"Honestly? No. In total, their army has somewhere around half a billion men. However, as I mentioned the vast majority of those troops are poorly trained and equipped conscripts, or volunteers not far from it, Once all the NATO troops get in the field, it's going to be a slugging match and a mobile one at that, which is to our favor. I don't think it'd be much of a stretch to say that one of our divisions could take on one of their conscript field armies and win 90% of the time. The same doesn't hold true for their proper volunteer field armies, but the Questarian Army is going to be stretched so thin that it's going to be unlikely in the extreme that they're present much of a problem," Jackson answered.

"What about on the naval front?" Lien asked.

"Again, the problem is that we're basically rooted to a wait-and-see strategy. Until we know for sure what the Praetonians are up to, it's not going to be safe to move the majority of our navy. That said, our Cravanian allies report that a Commonwealth attack is underway to break through what they've dubbed the Strobovian Line. Six Expeditionary Fleets are already underway; they should be within range of the A-102s in another day or so and reach ship-based weapons range two days after that. Also, as you can see from the map, we're sending the subsurface portion of our Raider Fleets south, since at this point keeping the Questarians out of the Haven Strait is more important than holding those subs at home in case the Praetonians launch an attack.

"Also on the Strobovian front, General McLeod informs me that the IAF's strategic bombers base in Aurora will be providing support to our allies in the Strobovian Strait. In fact, the Aurora-based bombers will be bombarding the Questarian fleet around the clock. They've arranged it so that a new bomb group will sortie once every hour from one of the two bases and will keep that pace up until they run out of ammo or it's not longer possible. General McLeod tells me saturation won't be anything to write home about, but..."


***

Each bomb group was composed of a squadron each of B-101Ds, B-108Cs, and B-110As. All of the bombers were loaded to the max with BGM-503B cruise missiles, although in truth "loaded to the max" meant very little because the cruise missiles were so large. However, the range of the cruise missiles meant that none of the bombers would ever come into range of Questarian fleet defenses. Which was good, because the bombers were far too valuable to lose to a naval formation that was by Imperial Navy standards a mere reinforced task group.

Every hour, on the hour, a new bomb group would sortie and when the group reached engagement range it would launch a spread of missiles and return home. One in eighteen of the missiles were ECM variants that packed sophisticated electronics to fool and blind the sensors of enemy counter-missiles and even ships. In fact, the missiles were so sophisticated and good at their job that much like aircraft they could datalink and selectively jam radars in confusing patterns that would make it nearly impossible for all but the most powerful radars to completely separate the wheat from the chaff. The attack missiles also had their own special programming that allowed them to classify and attack targets based on a prioritized database; in this instance the ships of the line came first, then the big attack carriers, then the light carriers, and finally the cruisers and destroyers came last. If more than one of the ship types was a viable target, the missiles would confer through a datalink and pick the one that had the weakest support in the forms of defensive fire and emissions, and descend upon that ship in a tidal wave of destruction.

With any luck the continuous barrage would weaken the Questarian fleet enough that when the IN delivered the hammer blow it would be decisive in a way that very little else could be.

"Colonel, all positions report no sign of encroachment yet."

The Colonel, his eyes hidden beneath the face wrap he had put together to protect himself from the sand, let off a slight sigh. He knew what he had to do, and he didn't like it. Plan Alpha was set for when enemy armor entered Azaha, that was the main plan, the best plan. But it seemed plan B, the contingency plan, the last minute mock up, was to be the main battle order.

Looking behind him, past the rows of parked tanks hidden beneath tan tents, he gazed upon the dark city in the background. It was the Capitol, known to many as Citadel, mainly because of its central Mosque that dominated the skyline. But of course, it was also the center of commerce(or therefor lacked), and administration. The enemy threatened it. While the Colonel could care less about the pile or rocks, he was requested by the Emir himself to defend the city, and elimnate the threat.

The Emir made it sound so simple. He thought to himself.

"How's the artillery doing?" His voice nearly drowned out by the howling wind and his wrap.

"The main 120 milimeter batteries are about 30 kilometers ahead. I've got the entire 5th field army pulling defense for what we're calling "Line A", where the 120's are. Point defense flak, Tripple A, and SAM sites deployed just behind the artillery. Then of course there is our line, Line B, where the main bulk of our armor is stationed as you can see. More Anti-Air is stationed here aswell. Line B stretches nearly half the length of our border with the colony, ready as per your order to move in and immediatly outflank the enemy. Then finally we have Line C, just behind ours with the 270's and ICCM batteries." The Major let out a long winded intake of air when he finished, relinquishing all the information in a few breaths. "And finally, the reservists are holding up well, covering the rest of the country with an early warning."

"Good. Its time we open up. I want the 270's to open up on all known Allanean SAM sites, so we can supress them for the Questers air strikes to continue." Looking up in the sky, he thought he could hear the dull roar of the Questarian strike aircraft above him. "Everything else is going to open up on their armor positions. I want half their armor to be piles of trash by the time we cross that border."

---------------------------------------------------------------

An hour later, nearly 70 million men held their breaths as the masses of Artillery literally let loose armaggedon.

Behind the Cravanian fleet, several Sea Sprite DR.1 reconnaissance drones lazily patrolled at altitude running in southwest-northeast tracks, an underbelly-mounted radar array providing the necessary detection and tracking power, secure communications equipment providing the data to the Royal Navy as well as NATO forces in the Strait. One hundred fifty kilometres east, Fleet Air Arm Sea Stratus FA.1 fighters, one hundred twenty one in total, provided a perimeter combat air patrol over two frigate squadrons backed up by light carriers, whose Cormorant HAS.1 anti-submarine tasked helicopters were busy dipping and dropping at the slightest indication of submerged threats. On the carriers' flight decks, the V/STOL Kestrels maintained a deck alert status, ready to take to the skies the moment the focus of the battle shifted from the Cravanian front lines to the Royal Navy's outer picket formations.

Through the extended eyes and ears, Osborne watched intently as NATO forces began to launch their missiles at the Questarians who had, of course, launched first. Still a bit distant from the main body, the fleet carriers upon which were embarked strike fighters and/or interdictors, had already received orders to turn into the wind and launch two waves. Manoeuvring would take several minutes, owing to the general surprise of the Questarian attack, however, the strike packages were themselves were at a high state of readiness and would be in the air within minutes of the carriers ending their manoeuvres. Onboard his flagship, the Oceanian admiral watched the careful ballet with interest, in his mind counting the seconds into minutes necessary to complete the necessary movements.

"Thought you would like to see this, Admiral," a short, brown-haired man spoke, interrupting Osborne's heretofore quiet analysis. "I have spoken to my colleagues back in Carpanthium and within twenty minutes you shall have your air corridor."

Osborne nodded, "thank you, Wing Commander." The man was the Royal Air Force's liaison, while the RAF would remain under different operational command, the main reason for the presence of Coastal Command in Carpanthium was to provide assistance to the Royal Navy. Their long-range bombers and patrol aircraft could heft the heavy anti-capital ship cruise missiles and release them at a distance and retreat only to return with more. That was, Osborne knew, a hindrance of the UK's in this fight. There was no sovereign territory of the United Kingdom in Haven. None of the UK's land-based anti-ship missiles. Only her ships, her aircraft, and her soldiers holding the line. The RAF would provide a safe corridor for the Fleet Air Arm all the way back to bases in Carpanthium, interceptors guarding the flight paths with tankers loitering for those running on empty.

It had all been pre-arranged, of course. Osborne knew that once the fighting started, many of his airpersons would lack flight decks to which they could return. Even if ships remained afloat, a peppered flight deck rendered the ship combat ineffective and left the fighters, bombers, and other assorted aircraft without a home base. In those situations, the Fleet Air Arm had trained and prepared to make use of emergency strips, motorways, but preferably airfields in Carpanthium.

As Osborne's carriers continued their turns to starboard or port, his cold, contemplating eyes fell upon the highlighted line running across the Strait. Over the weeks and months his advance forces had laid minefields, thousands of mines from moored and bottom mines, to those of the encapsulated torpedo variety, waiting for the acoustic signatures of Questarian vessels to pass through. Others, simply waited for large wakes or magnetic signatures. Near the surface, of a more rudimentary design, contact mines waited, most placed away from the shipping channels that had been carefully observed and noted before sowing the sea. Scattered throughout the fields, smaller varieties targeting not the larger warships or escorts, but the minesweepers and their sweeps.

After a near eternity, Osborne's designated carriers signaled their readiness to launch their fighters and interdictors. "Launch the aircraft," he ordered tersely. Seconds later the first Sea Stratus fighters were full-throttle and soaring into the air, laden with beyond-visual range missiles and a few medium- and short-range for self defence. Eventually, the Sea Stratus fighters tasked with the strike mission joined their escorts, their complement consisting not of air-to-air missiles but long-range anti-ship missiles. Not of the heavier variety to cripple or sink the capital ships or even the largest escorts, rather to damage if not sink the various smaller displacement escorts and then hopefully mission-kill the escorting cruisers.

Another few minutes and another group of fighters were in the air, this time the multi-role Sea Stratus aircraft carrying hollowed-out missiles, their warheads and electronics replaced with jamming equipment and signal decoys that when activated would make them appear to be larger maritime bombers on a bearing indicative of airfields further east in the more secure NATO airfields beyond the current battlefield.

Osborne watched the aircraft head off, maintaining radio silence as often as possible. Of course, near two hundred fifty combat aircraft could not be entirely quiet as they attempted navigated from checkpoint to checkpoint, guided by airborne command aircraft and listening to the increasing chirps of radar and radio traffic. Eventually, they reached the Cravanian formations behind the Strobovian Line and took a more southerly route, attempting to remain outside of the engagement zone of the Cravanians. The pilots all praying not be the first blue-on-blue casualties of the war. A dozen escorts switched on jamming equipment, creating an area of absolute EM chaos--they hoped that at range it would obscure the size of the strike package and provide the small amount of cover necessary.

At a pre-designated point, the second group of Sea Stratus fighters loosed their decoys, with three for each aircraft, a total of 216 long-range maritime bombers entered the fray, the Sea Stratus quickly turning tail and heading back for their carriers. The first wave followed the decoys, the electronic escorts still broadcasting whilst the 96 fighter escorts climbed, ready to drop down upon any Questarian fighters that might intercept the strike package.

The 81 pilots of Sea Stratus fighters tasked with engaging the leading escorts of the Questarian carrier force now began to check and double check their coordinates. They would be wait until they approached 800 kilometres from the outer picket ships, hoping that to target the inbound bombers and their missile loads even just a few would light up their radar systems, at which point they could launch their missiles and race on home. If not, they could only tiptoe nearer the Questarian position and launch their missiles to be guided inertially at first, then by active radar for the terminal stage. It would be a total of just 243 missiles, statistically insignificant but a foreshadow of the battles yet to come.

Strobovia Strait
Force D:
HIQMS IRIMASHIMOHAZE
13th July

"Sir! Picking up incoming targets, coming into RADAR range right now." The detection systems of the Mogami Air Defence Cruiser picked up the large Rufous missiles at long range and given their speed it was only a moment before interception could begin. The Mogami's S5200S-L/ST was one of the most powerful detection and tracking RADARs that could be mounted on a picket ship and it was showing its worth, tracking all 96 missiles as they came into range.

"Seems like a typical formation. Nothing too hard to break." the shisp commander leant over the RADAR view. "Alright. Lets do it. Signal this information back to the rest of the Squadron."

Within a moments notice, the small communications datalink on the Mogami's bridge was spinning and sending its information to its three counterparts in the 292nd Cruiser Picket Squadron. At 385 kilometres each cruiser shot off four SA-16 AMBROSE missiles. The Rufous, althoguh it was an advanced missile (and one used by the IQN too, at that) was up against another formidable opponent in the SA-16 and its targeting. From the first interception wave, 11 where knocked out of the air, and immediately the twin arm launchers began reloading. They managed to down another 8 Rufous' before they came into VLS range, and at that point targeting had already acquired a suitable firing pattern interlinked between all three Mogamis. The missiles shot off in quick succession, joined by another wave of the heavy AMMs. With the addition of the Heavy Destroyers in the Squadron adding some more of their firepower, they'd already dropped a good deal of the missiles before they came into point defence range. Automatic RAM took its toll and a pair of Rufous' slipped past, startling the navigation crew of the 292nd. It screamed its way at maximum speed, CIWS tearing around them and sending one hurtling into the sea. The other, true to its target, slammed into HIQMS Centaur, one of the light carriers.

The damage was serious. The missile had cut through the carriers belt and almost set alight the magazines, which would have spelt certain doom. If not for the quick and proffessional reaction of the damage control crew the ship would certainly have been lost, but the signs where already showing. The list wasn't too bad, but the gaping whole with thick, black smoke pouring from inside the vessel and the burning flames licking across the side of the ship certianly were testament to the deadliness of heavy ASHMs. The Centaur quickly lost speed, drastically below formation level, and was essentially crippled. The formation dropped its speed 1 knot, and in any case was already turning south to directly engage the Cravanian fleet at Carpathium and whatever Oceanians they could shoot at too, but the wounded carrier would eventually have to be left behind if its damage control crews could not repair the damage. It was a true demonstration of the determination and skill of Questarian naval officers and ratings when the Centaur sent its message back to the Yamashiro.

"Situation under control. Increasing speed to match formation flank. God Save the King."

But the carrier wasn't completely fixed, of course. It would be unlikely that the Centaur could launch anymore formation level combat wings and would be stuck to single launch CAP duty for the rest of its time at sea. Which may not be any longer, considering the situation.

Strobovia Strait
Force D:
HIQMS FUSO
13th July

Admiral Umezo shrugged. He had watched the missiles from the cruiser do their work and the battle in the air was little of his concern; flyboys did not bother him in the slightest. And why should they? He was sitting behind what really amounted to over 95cm of armour plus anything structural the enemy would have to penetrate. Umezo didn't particularly put any faith in the aircraft and was saddened and angered to see it overtake the battleship, but he had been given his role by the CIC. His ship was well armed with a complement of heavy anti shipping missiles and he planned to use them: the newly brought into service SS-35 was mounted on 800 of his VLS cells and he would use them to put a stop to NATO interference in Questarian waters. Of course, he wouldn't be the only one engaging. The enemy had the nerve to bring along one of their own ships; a Hood class. Umezo relished the thought of sinking it and he himself believed the era of the supercapital was gone. He would finally get to prove it. From the Yamashiro and Fuso alone, 900 of the new SS-35 missiles could be launched each and similar numbers from their four sister ships, but from the reserve cruiser squadrons, this number increased by an order of ten. And again, with the fleets smaller Couraegous class battleships, more and more missiles could be added to the fray. Their objective was of course to sink the gigantic Hood class ship that the Cravanians based their mobile naval HQ from.

With a range of 900km, the SS-35 had plenty of range to steer, and multiple flight paths - lo-lo, hi-hi, hi-lo, all had their uses. To sink or destroy the supercapital, the missiles had been programmed to not strike at the belt; which was relatively pointless, but to smash into the superstructure and main turrets, and in any case, the VLS-packed decks would be sure to be hit which would decrease the throwing power of the vessel by knocking out the missiles while still in their VLS bays. Any penetrations into the barbette of the vessel would be crippling; unless damage control was applied immediately, it may even be possibly to destroy the ship by snapping the keel from a magazine explosion. Structural integrity was not the forte of the supercapital after all, any any significant damage sustained could be enough to take it out of the battle. Even with heavy SAM firepower, it was considered worth firing such a large amount of missiles at one target simply because it was neccessary to knock it out. So. Though the six Nagato class could throw 5,000 missiles into the air, the cruisers and battleships could put out even more. In total, the amount of missiles being fired was extraordinary.

[lulz, 23,400]

Captain Tarrant winced as, from his battleship, the missiles shot and shot and shot out, leaving plumes of white smoke behind them as they trailed into the distance. More and more were following. If he looked to his port side on the starboard bridge, the battleship Tamaki was doing the same. If he looked to his right, the battleship North Borneo too was doing the same. And all over the fleet, cruisers and battleships were doing the same too. For Tarrant, like many officers, this was somethign beyond a drill. They had never fired this many missiles before. He shuddered when he thought of the fleet on the opposite side, then realised that it may, quite soon, be reversed. He didn't plan to die, which meant, by default, that he would see action. Tarrant had never been onboard a sinking ship before and though drills could help, he was not an experienced officer.

"Whatsup Mike?" His XO tapped him on the back and Tarrant visibly winced.

"Sorry, I was in my own little world there." he said, still leaning out to sea and observing the massive missile launches.

"Heh. Its spectacular, isn't it?"

"I suppose. Its still hard to think that what we're doing right now is causing death and destruction. Grief to so many people..." Tarrant trailed off.

"Well old boy, thats the good thing about the Navy. You don't actually have to see it." His XO nodded to him. "Come on, lets go grab a brew. This bombardment isn't going to stop for us."

Strobovia Strait
799th Submarine Squadron
SGNS.7829
13th July

"Thats our prize then."

"Looks like it." The XO replied to Captain Michaels, who had just hammered down datalink printoffs of the Oceanian fleet.

"Not much big there, is there?" Michaels grunted. He was hoping to nail a battleship, or at least, a large carrier. This was... unsatisfactory.

"Well, some light flattops there. Its all for the war effort, I guess."

"True, but I want a medal." Michaels grinned.

"Don't we all!" the XO joked. "Shall we get to business?"

"Sure. Lets slot us a few fuckin' Azazians." Michaels announced, pushing himself up from his chair and strolling over towards the main command part of the bridge, where the crew was hard at working making sure the ship stayed... well, shipworthy.

"Aren't they called Oceanians now?" His XO replied, picking up the papers and following him.

"I don't really give a floating fuck what they're called, as long as they're a hundred feet underwater by the time we've finished with them."

The 799th Submarine Squadron had been hanging around in the Strobovian Strait for some time, expecting conflict to kick off at any moment. As a missile boat, they carried 24 QS-N-62 Toraidento anti shipping missiles in their VLS bays; large missiles with a payload of 500kg worth of HE.

The six submarines could deliver all their missiles in quick succession, but the most important thing was that they could strike from long range and let active RADAR and datalinking do the rest. Therefore, at 180km from the Oceanian fleet the 24 submarines, who had already slowed down and ascended to 60 feet, launched all their missiles within the space of a few minutes they were gone, hurtling towards the Oceanian carriers, their primary targets, at mach 2.8.

"Is that all of our missiles?" Michaels asked, tapping some tobacco into his piping and leaning back on his chair. Their job was done now and they wouldn't be in the real firing lines for at least another two weeks. Some time to kick back and relax, if such a thing was possible on a war this scale.

"Aye aye sir."

"Now take us down to a thousand and keep us there until we get into safe waters. Good job boys." Michaels thought modern warfare was quite boring: safe, yes. He struck the enemy from long distance and now their chance of finding him was slim, but it was really quite boring and inglorious. After all, nobody was going to make a painting or a song about his little submarine sinking an Oceanian carrier. Assuming it did, anyway. Michaels had never really been in combat and this was, so far, textbook work. He hoped that he'd get some chance to use real initiative, but at the same time wished for an end to the war that he'd been waiting to start for months. That didn't sound too likely, though.

The submarines were long gone by the time the Oceanians could respond; diving to 1000 feet, Captain Michaels was sure he could not be found or shadowed, and his squadron headed for their base in Azaha at a steady 8 knots.


Strobovia Strait
Force D:
HIQMS TSUNOMAKASI
13th July

"Aw hell. Sir, incoming targets from the east. Heavy missiles."

"ID?" The Captain asked back. He had watched the success from across the picket from another Mogami Squadron and was intent to achieve the same rates of downing missiles.

"Dunno. They only just came onto RADAR. Fucking hell, those things are huge. And damn, there's alot of them. More coming, too."

"Just how many fucking missiles did they fire at us?" The Captain said. Ironically, a few minutes before, he had just finished watching the last of the missiles being fired at the Cravanian fleet.

"Just about four hundred. They're fast, too."

"Get the 344th, 343rd, and 350th to help us out." The Captain said. "And start intercepting those incoming missiles." The Captain was dissapointed he couldn't claim the glory for his squadron, but protecting the fleet came first: and this wave was significantly more lethal than the first. A similar pattern was used, but the ECM was somewhat of an irritance to the cruisers. True, their EW systems were advanced, but it made targeting a pain and as a result more missiles slipped through than normal. Engaging with RAM and CIWS and with support from numbers of destroyers, the four squadrons of air defence cruisers managed to significantly slim the incoming wave of missiles. However, missiles did get past, but numbers would be less than Scandavian assumptions: the sheer power of the Mogami was showing through already, and had it not been for the mass constructed class of air defence cruiser and their crews the war would probably have already been lost. Of course, no air defence is 100% accurate.

This pissed off Admiral Umezo. Eagerly awaiting the results of the missile strike on the Cravanian capital ship, he quickly sharpened to attention when the command deck lurched ever so slightly, the result of hte high speed attacks that strafed the ship. His lack of patience and his arrogance went into overdrive immediately.

"Motherfucker! What the fuck was that?" he asked, expecting an immediate response, which of course he got. Nobody wanted to infuriate him further.

"Sir, seventeen hits across the ship. High speed anti shipping mi-" one brave midshipman said.

"No shit! Damage report, NOW!"

It was time for the damage control officer to brave the storm. "Sir, initial reports indicate that six of the impacts failed to penetrate to any effect, boring through the outer works and disarming themselves as they hit into the second tier of our armour. Four more missiles hit the deck... casualty reports should be coming in momentarily but it seems we have a pair of penetrations across the deck near B turret. Nothing near the barbette, though. Some light electronics out of order... penetration on the belt has initiated flooding in some eight WTCs. Aha. Forty casualties from deck crew, sir."

"Ah. Thats not too bad. Seal those WT-"

"We tried, sir. They're too damaged; the water is spreading." the damage control officer gulped. "I suggest we seal and flood these WTCs." he said, highlighting them with a stylus on the large damage ontrol screen. "And then flood these here to balance us out. I need a decision quick, sir."

"Ok, do it." Umezo grumbled.

The damage control officer nodded and selected the appropriate commands. The Fuso had sustained damage and dropped her freeboard by half of a metre, but most importantly it seemed that the arrays of VLS defence missiles on the starboard side were out of use and there was a gaping whole where an armoured part of the superstructure was supposed to be. Fuso had taken damage, but internal penetration had been retarded by lots of void space and internal slowing and decapping of the missiles. It appears the Questarians had been lucky this time, and the strength of their ships and damage control had shown through. However, the loss of a single capital ship would be crippling to the strategic capacity of the Navy: the time they took to construct would be far too long to be finished before the wars end. It was time to strike back and make sure that attacks on such a scale would be significantly weakened or, in the very least, demoralised and forced to change for the worst.

Of the five satellites that had been left out of strikes on Scandavia and Allanea [see other thread], two had already been vectored over to the Strobovia Strait. There intention was to strike at the Allanean defences, but this was more important it seemed. The two satellites were datalinked to IGHQ's Haven-wide intelligence network and within twelve minutes were hovering right over the Scandavian strategic bases in Aurora. With no time to waste, they let loose their salvos with the intent of neutralising the heavy bomber strikes that had penetrated the picket and wounded the Fuso.

Strobovia Strait
Air Combat
319th Naval Air Regiment
13th July

"Incoming on RADAR." Lieutenant Yoshiza's RIO reported. They picked up the Cravanians rather late but the squadrons were well drilled in this sort of practice. As the enemy dove in on them, the fighters they were targeting banked and dropped altitude fast and quickly pulled up, though some fell of course fell prey to missiles. Most ejected, but some would never return to see their families again. As soon as the Cravanians began their turn upwards, the A7H put one of its best uses, and perhaps its only advantage, to use: its astonishing agility and climb speed coupled with well trained pilots meant that as soon as the Cravanians had pulled off they heard the beep of a missile lock from the fighters which hadn't been affected from their attack. The A7Hs that were not targeted seized the initiative and banked straight up wards, following the Cravanians from behind and below and letting free their missiles. Saving some missiles, the planes which had pulled up to follow the Cravanian Archons let loose their missiles and began to engage with their short ranged missiles and cannon.

Strobovia Strait
Air Combat
33rd Naval Air Bomb Regiment
13th July

"How far are we?" Captain Thistle asked his bombardier.

"300km." Came back the short reply.

"Alright. Not long now..." Thistle said to himself outloud. To be honest, he was frightened. He wasn't supposed to be, but he was. The enemy had engaged the vanguard of the formation and although the rearguard was moving up to protect the bombers, there was a timegap. If the Cravanians intercepted in the gap, he could be dead meat.

"FUCK." Thistle shouted as the enemy aircraft started showing up on his RADAR, linked in with the rest of his squadron. A moment later, there was a target lock beeping sound. "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit." Thistle was saying over and over again, trying to bring the hardly maneuverable bomber into an evasive pattern, but his bombardier quickly released the chaff. The M3F is a fairly big aircraft and to see it bank hard to port and release a wave of chaff is quite the sight. It was a one in ten chance, but it worked. Thistle looked to his side and watched his wingmate’s aircraft receive strafing bursts and splinter apart, exploding rather majestically as the large anti shipping missiles attached to its wings disintegrated and violently shook the aircraft to pieces. Thistle realised he was sweating.

“Distance?”

“200km…”

“Shitting hell. Almost there.”

Thistle started praying. He was an atheist, raised and born, and they say that there’s no such thing as an atheist in a foxhole. Well, there weren’t any foxholes in his plane, but there sure as hell weren’t any atheists either, Thistle reflected. Not long now he thought as he pushed the aircraft to its maximum limit then blinked as he realised that he was going 80km/h over the limit. The aircraft was literally shaking up. “You are fucking kidding me.” He said outloud again as RADAR picked up a NATO fighter trailing him. Again, the missile lock. Thistle started praying faster. He realised later it was probably wrong to pray that he wouldn’t die and somebody else would, but that didn’t matter then. What mattered were the two missiles that tore the Cravanian aircraft apart. The Reppu (who now had three kills to his name) flew past Thistles aircraft and gave a thumbs up to the Captain.

“Sir, we’re in firing range!” the bombardier said. Thistle grinned. “Open fire and I’ll get us the fuck out of here.”

The four AS-29s slung underneath the planes belly detached one after one and ignited. Active RADAR would show them the way towards the enemy carriers and any other cruisers or capital ships. The A7H rearguard had arrived in time to catch the Cravanian interceptors, but not before 60 bombers was torn out the sky. It was a crippling loss to the morale of the group and to bomber-escort relations afterwards. Though many aircraft got their payloads through, from now on better escort planning would take place in every theatre of the war. Nevertheless, Fleet Admiral Keyes, though taking full responsibility for the disastrous losses, was sure that 1,360 of the AS-29s would finish off the Cravanian fleet.

Ceylon
Ceylon Station
13th July

Admiral Nishimura had just woken up and was taking the opportunity to look out the window into Ceylon Harbour before he boarded his ship. It was merely a coincidence that he opened his eyes the moment the Ardan bombardment began.

The first nine rods hit their targets, setting ablaze ammunition and fuel dumps. The oil tanks that had just fueled up a fleet the day before exploded in a staggering explosion of al the yellows, reds, oranges and thick shades of black and grey imaginable, spreading quickly and destroying other parts of the harbour. The ammunition too set off, with the same effect, bringing down warehouse after warehouse, loading cranes, everything was a victim. The drydocks too where hit, destroying the flood and docking gates. It was chaos, but it was pretty. The railway line, everything of use was going up in flames. Nishimura thought it was a good job they moved the fleet out yesterday, because they sure as hell weren’t getting back in there, and if they were in their right now, there’d be hell to pay. It didn’t dawn on the Admiral until a few minutes later that Ceylon was robbed of its immediate fuel and naval ammunition stocks and its ability to dock ships was severely damaged.

I've got a debt to repay
I ain't gonna cry
I put a gun in your face
You'll pay with your life

--The Rolling Stones, Gunface

Air Marshal Ezerhan Kordiyeh cooly sweeps a napkin across his lips and raises his free hand. "Thank you once again for a splendid dinner, Master Sergeant." He sips his wine and leans back in his seat, suspending his glass over the plate as the Sergeant dutifully steps forward and removes his plates and eating utensils.

Kordiyeh only has a moment to take in the scenery, and he attempts to make good use of it. The shores of Arda were diminishing slowly from his window, but he could only grimace. Surely now across the globe, men everywhere were playing tough--acting as if war were not a concern--maybe enjoying it even, but to anyone who had seen a significant amount of combat war was not an event to look forward to.

Kordiyeh puts his hands on the table and stands slowly. Turning on his heels he strides to his private lift and boards it. He turns around and the mess hall is visible to him briefly as he descends towards it, filled with pilots and maintenance men 'enjoying' their dinners. He continues down past the mess and into the bowels of his Florentine cruiser, where his staff and a few Captains awaited him.

Obediently, they all turn to the lift and salute as the bemedaled Air Marshal strides in, pausing to return the gesture a step or so into the room. "At ease, gentlemen," offers Kordiyeh flatly as he picks up an errant situation report from a nearby desk. "Enjoy dinner I trust?" He asks with a grin. "I see we're finally moving now. I take it the final preperations have finished up?"

"Yes sir, they have," replies one of his Lieutenants calmly. "The last frigates slipped from their moorings ten minutes ago. We're one hundred percent formed up and ready to move."

"Flying high?"

"As per your orders, yes of course," comes the dutiful reply.

"Excellent. I'm going to retire to my quarters for a brief nap; afterwards I'll take another situation report and we can have our final briefing. I just needed to grab this real quick," he explains, waving the report he had recently picked up. "I forgot I left it down here, and meant to look over it during dinner."

Outside, Kordiyeh can hear the faint but distinct scream of the 3rd ICKM detachment loosing another volley. Eighteen more of Arda's missiles would scream towards Ceylon, pounding the docks there with a small but ongoing barrage. Kordiyeh grinned. Every time the 3rd cleared it's tubes meant his job was becoming that much earlier.

***

"...soon the Second ICKM detachment will be in position in the skies over Near Harad. Once the second is on scene and shots are being exchanged over Ceylon, we can use these beasts on more of a strategic level."

Sky Marshal Marcus Garrand--one of Arda's few aged air force veterans--presses a button on his podium and the rendered image of Arda disappeared, replaced with a strategic map of Haven dotted with yellow, green, and red at sea, and white on land. A few of the white markers begin to blink. "The mission of the 2nd and 3rd ICKM detachments will be to deliver continuous strikes to QC industrial assets, specifically ball bearings, rubber, polyester, steel, and technical mineral and synthetic textile materials." He pauses to sip his water. "I believe that we will be able to affect a major shortage of industrial products; specifically tires and body armor. These actions will be geared towards forcing QC strategic planners to abandon the idea of a prolonged infantry push in Allanea or..." he shrugs and spreads his hands, "anywhere, really."

Garrand watches the Angsiyan fold his arms. "We're leaving fuel dumps and ammo depots for now because," he holds up a finger, "one, we want the QC to stay alive long enough for us to accomplish our objectives, but we also want them to think twice about making an overly long line anywhere." He holds up a nother finger. "Two, because we're one of many striking at the Commonwealth right now, and it's very likely other nations are focusing their efforts almost exclusively either on troop masses, or fuel or ammo dumps. Strategic planners in other countries have apparently attacked roughly along these lines already, and it looks like they're going after transportation and military infrastructure rather than industrial infrastructure. I believe these attacks are the best possible under the circumstances to present the Commonwealth with an overwhelming logistics and industrial crisis. Let Allanea and Midlonia act against their military; we will act against their ability to replace and equip them."

"Well," breaks in the Angsiyan as he was wont do do, "it all depends on when we end up moving the 2nd Army. I don't know how long it will take to neutralize Ceylon, but it'll probably be nastier than we first thought. NATO is kind of reeling right now," he tightens his lower jaw and the tendons in his neck activate at the emphasis, as if conceding a touchy point, "but I don't think it will last for long. I suspect the Pax Marshals are eager to get going, but I won't move them until the Corridor looks like it's been effected in a meaningfully, one way or another..."

Strategic Operation Pandora

The operation, codenamed Pandora, was remarkably complex. It involved opening up and operating no less than four separate fronts with numerous different targets during the first single day.

They were Okielahoma, Barkozy, Cbaso, and anything Questarian in range.

The operation was complex as it involved invading the anarchy that was Barkozy, attacking across a narro-highly defended strip of water in Okielahoma, and a small island chain.


Barkozy

The Barkozian front was unusual, they possessed little in the way of a navy, and never defended the eastern coast. They couldn’t, there simply wasn’t enough organization to do it.

The Midlonian attack consisted of shelling the towns and cities along the coast in the few spots that Midlonians could land by ship.

However in half a dozen places along the coast, shallow-bottomed fat boats ran at the cliffs, on them there more of Arkwright’s machines. Their triple diamond-tipped drills began to scream and whine. The boats slowed as they reached the cliffs, they had attacked at High-tide, avoiding many of the rocks and crags that may have caused the boats to crash and sink. However two still ran aground, the drills screaming angrily at not being able to bite into the cliff.

The drill bits chewed into the cliff and lurched into the hard rock, screaming and whining they chewed into the cliff-face, a conveyor belt hurled the debris down into the sea below.

A further machine failed, causing it to be stranded about half-way towards the surface. Just three tunnels remained.

They smashed through the surface at a 45 degree angle and leapt into the air before slamming down. Their job was done. Midlonians could now flood up the tunnels during high-tide and operate straight into the cliff-area of Barkozy in the East.

Cbaso - Alaecan Colony

Cbaso and Alaeca itself was simply in the way, strategically it was valuable, but in any kind of financial aspect they were worthless. However, they were a very useful tool for what Midlonia needed, which was a decent staging point to attack the Questarian East Haven Company, and the Northfordian colony in Far Eastern Haven.

2 Armada’s consisting of around 450 ships consisting of 9 Carriers fell upon Cbaso, attacking anything flying the Questarian flag, and anything flying the Alacean flag, military and merchant. MIRA had estimated that there was a high possibility of patriotic Merchant captains may attempt to ram the Midlonian ships. So the possibility was removed.

Military bases were attacked by long-range aircraft, explosions sounding as distant thuds from those in the cities who probably didn’t even know the war had begun.

Okielahoma - Questarian Colony

Ships. Ships and more bloody ships. It seemed that the constant annoying problem with the QC was the sheer number of ships. As war was declared missiles of all kinds along with artillery was hurled at the Questarian shipping that was in port at the time along the Okielahoman coast [such as passed for it]

Dinghies and boats of all kinds were readying to cross the narrow strip of water that separated the Midlonians from the Okielahomans, thousands of men lugging lighter equipment and even civilian ferries were loaded with anti-tank armed jeeps and trucks… they planned to secure the coastline, then to slowly press inland to overrun the whole colony if possible.

The drums to war had finally stopped. The banging was now taken over by the sound of missiles, men and guns.

51st Tactical Naval Fighter Squadron "Gray Eagles"
Approaching enemy air armada
Lt. Jose "Sapinian Tigershark" Mandirez

"That's what they think.", Mandirez said as he skillfully maneuvered out of an enemy target lock. He had two advantages over the Reppu: stealth, and maneuverability. The Archon and Opinicus both shared similar design features, and their scissor wings and tailess design gave them unprecedented maneuverability in combat and the RADAR cross signature of miniscule size. There was one key advantage the Reppus had, though, and that was speed. The cruising speed and stealthy speed of an Archon was 900km/h, a mere Mach .37. The maximum reachable speed the Archon was able to attain was Mach 2.7, however only in short bursts. Supercruise was recorded at Mach 1.7, however it had not been tested at these speeds by the Imperial Military despite being reported as entirely safe.

And that was why Mandirez and his squadron revelled in the fact the Questarians decided to get down and dirty. At close range, the Reppus were easily outmatched by the Illiorian-designed aircraft. It had been said by Illiorian design officials that the Opinicus and Archon could probably go head to head with the rumored Doomani Aquila II and stand up with a fighting chance. Mandirez was about to prove the Illiorian officials wrong. He was about to prove that nothing stood in an angry Archon pilot's way, and he was going to start with these Reppus. In reality, he felt sympathy for the pilots and their families, but combat was combat, and he had his duty. Clicking his visor down to conceal his face, Mandirez stroked the rosary taped to his cockpit console.

"Mi vida en las manos del dios."

Mandirez darted into the fray, rolling his aircraft 90 degrees to the right and pulling his stick back gently to quickly turn around, the G-Forces pushing himself into the mesh of his seat. He felt his head sink back into his chair as his aircraft brought itself around. Combined thrust vectoring and scissor wings allowed him to weave in and out of dangerous positions as his HUD switched from red to green almost constantly, tones of varying degrees filling his ears.

What ensued could be classed as total chaos by some, an unorganized furball by others. Mandirez watched as two members from other squadrons were sprayed with cannon fire, both men luckily managing to eject before their aircraft plummeted in a firey ball of smoke and flame to the waves below.

"Eagles, form up on my wing. Engage in fingertip formation. We'll sweep the bastards."

The gray and white speckled planes grouped up together, one aircraft missing as its pilot gracefully drifted to the waters of the Strobovian. The group cut a swathe through the crisp morning air, thundering from one side of the furball to the other as planes danced about each other. Climbing while doing so, the eight pilots gained slightly significant altitude over their enemies, and thus broke off into pairs as per standard Cravanian air doctrine, forming up with their wingmates as they cut through the battle. Mandirez and his wingmate flew together as one, as the sky around them was filled with bullets and smoke; the sights and sounds of intense aerial combat.

A lone Questarian Reppu came up on Mandirez's tail, firing its 22mm cannon wildly, luckily not gaining a hit due to the sheer chaos of the situation but gaining many near misses. Mandirez and his wingmate performed a standard Thach Weave, where Mandirez lured the enemy fighter to follow while his wingman crossed over. The maneuver would force Mandirez to lead the Questarian aircraft across his wingmate's return flight path, putting him between his number two's crosshairs. If that did not work, Mandirez's rear-firing BVRAAM missiles which he had been hoping to conserve would make short work of the trailing Reppu.

"All wings, keep the pressure up. The slit bastards will eventually get sick of this.", Mandirez said while pushing his Archon to the limit, guiding it around in a loop to bring his follower into his wing's direct line of fire.

That is unless we're forced to kill them all..., he thought to himself as he took his final weave to bait the fighter in...

***************

His Imperial Majesty's Cravanian Ship Espada del Imperio
200km behind the Strobovian Line

Everything was still going according to plan as the bridge crew of the Espada continued to relay orders from command.

It was then, however, that RADAR picked up the SS-35 anti-shipping missiles bearing down upon the Imperial Navy's jewel.

"Uhm... Admiral? You may want to see this..."

Admiral Richards walked over to the RADAR station calmly, hands clasped behind his back. His pure white uniform was spotless, his rank pins and various medals glistening in the sunlight.

His face, however, immediately lost the confidence it had had not more than a few minutes ago as he watched the wall of missiles approach on RADAR. And even more were inbound.

"Dear God...", he said in disbelief. He stood there for a moment, watching the screen with his mouth gaping. A moment later he sprang to action.

"Announce General Quarters, get every man and woman to their stations. CIWS and RAM mounts online immediately, I want as many of those missiles out of the sky as we can get down. Alert the escorts to do the same immediately."

The flotilla which had accompanied the Espada to the Strob was mostly made up of escorts as any flotilla should be. Thus when the wave of missiles was detected the extensive CIWS and SAM networks which the flotilla possessed were immediately thrown into action. Rolling airframe missiles made contact with the inbound contacts, cutting through the storm of metal while THEL and 30mm CIWS mounts ate away at the oncoming hordes, black smoke and bursts of flame and shrapnel filling the air. It was soon realised that every single missile was being directed towards the Espada. The Questarians wanted it dead.

Although the first waves of missiles were held off effectively, the true madness began when holes in the defense web's wall of lead and pain allowed SS-35's to slip through, and that is when the sheer power of the weapons was realised. Richards felt the ship rock beneath his feet as the first impacts thrashed themselves against the gun decks towards the center of the superstructure.

"Status!"
"Contact lost with stations eight through ten, fires reported on the central decks, extensive structural damage throughout.", a damage control technician replied, surprisingly calmly.
"Options?"
"Sir, with all due respect our only option is to get out of range and find a friendly port."
"We can't maneuver fast enough to avoid missiles, infact maneuvering may just make us a better target as our CIWS arc of fire is moved with the ship. We're in the best position we can be in right now."
"And it's still not good enough.", his XO replied while the ship rocked again, this time more violently.
"Contact lost with decks A7, A8, and A9, midship corridors!"

Another, much more violent explosion now rocked the Espada. The Admiral's face was filled with shock and disbelief as the rear turret reported a direct hit scored on the side of the plate. Luckily it had not penetrated to the magazines located below, but it was a near miss.

"Fire reported, service corridor D8!"

The impacts continued, as more and more missiles slammed into the side of the superstructure. Sparks flew on the bridge as computer circuits overloaded from the intense bombardment.


(Dramatic music loop start.)

As the missile impacts ceased, orange and red flames licked the sides of the superstructure of the once mighty Hood-class supercapital, its central superstructure now reduced to a pile of smoldering and twisted steel. Two turrets were completely offline, the others lacked fire control support and thus were practically useless. Fire crews battled the flames with fervor on deck while brave souls on the interior attempted to rescue those crewmembers caught in unfortunate areas as well as douse the flames from the inside. Casualties were estimated into the thousands as the barrage hit crucial areas of the ship. The cries of the dying, although not nearly as loud as the sound of the flames and fire crews battling, seemed to echo and drown out the scene.

(End dramatic music loop.)

"Overall status report?"
"Sir, we cannot take another barrage like that, or even half that, hell not even an eighth of that firepower! We need to get out and now."
"Do we still have movement control?"
"Aye, sir, the barrage was only aimed at the superstructure and turrets. Circuits may be busted, but we can definitely pull out at a crawl."
"Well get us out of here, and now. Helm, bring us about. Take us back to Aurora, where hopefully we can get a good cleaning and some repairs."
"Sir, we're not going to be going back into combat anytime soon."
"As long as the ship isn't totally lost, we can fight another day. Even if not in this conflict. We've done our duty."
"Aye, sir."

***************

The main Cravanian fleet at the front was lucky enough to be spread out to the point that the Questarians would have to divide their attention to the individual groups, allowing some to move about unhindered while others served as bait for the Questarian armadas. Carrier groups stayed back a distance, only a few carriers remaining up front to engage enemy air power directly.

It was now that missiles truly began to take their toll on forward Cravanian units. In all, a number of destroyers had sustained heavy damage from the bombardments, one even taking a plunge to the bottom as it entered the murky depths, most of its crew managing to get away safely however some never returning, their wives and husbands becoming widows and widowers courtesy of the Questarian Navy.

The battle had taken a turn as the forward ship formations began to crumble under the pressure of the missile barrages. It was determined that the line would not hold much longer if things continued as they did.

Thus, the concealed Khan silos in Carpanthium began the countdown to unleash a hellish storm unlike any other upon the Questarian combatants. Land-based Shepherd missiles continued to sound off in salvos by the hundreds at the still oncoming hordes of Questarian ships, however the smaller missiles seemed to have little effect. Much larger and heavier BGM-172 Pikes (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=10812302&postcount=258) began to enter the fray from land-based batteries, firing off in salvos of fifty every ten seconds from a different position, giving the few other concealed firing points the necessary time to reload the large missiles. These were aimed in the direction of the carriers and capitals, however a large amount of them were devoted to the Mogamis, which had been identified as an enormous threat to NATO air superiority. Their destruction was now a key objective, for without them the Questarian fleet was far more vulnerable.

Carpanthium

The airwaves at the Illiorian liaison office within the major air force base were going wild. Reports were being scattered left and right, Northford had gone weapons free, Questers had attacked The Silver Sky, Questerian ships had also entered Gholgothian territorial waters. Corporal Marcus Sanler shook his head, what a fucking cluster fuck this is gonna be, he thought to himself as he listened to the Cravanian radio traffic, listening to the choruses of “Fox 2, Fox-3” going off like drunks in a bar singing their usual ballads.

Mount Maul

Even though Illior was not a prime target, meaning Illior homeland that is, all major figures had been moved to the mountain fortress that dominated all of the surrounding flatlands and forests. Erika Kars sat quietly as several of her generals, admirals, and air marshals outlined what reports had come in and what was projected to happen.

“The Questarians are attempting to take the strob strait, but our Cravanian counterparts are doing their job to counter it, and while out numbered in naval vessels, have a huge strategic advantage thanks to several thousand aircraft and weapons, most of our own design and make.”

“So the Strob strait is fine for the moment,” Erika stated, “Let’s move on to Arcis Insula and Burning Bay, what’s their status?”

“Well Ma’am,” an Admiral began, “It isn’t looking good. We’ve concentrated our assets and northland which is a major strategic asset when controlling the seas around Haven. Our forces there aren’t sizeable, just Coastal Patrol vessels, Air defense assets and anti shipping assets.”

“So it’s well defended then?” Kars asked.

“No ma’am. Not at all.” The admiral continued, “we’ve got only 5,000 reservists as a garrison there, and a city with 20-25 mill people. We can stave off an air attack with the SAM network but any concerted invasion attempt will succeed. There’s really no way we can stave off an invasion on our own without our naval forces present, and at the current time with the majority of our naval forces at northland.”

“So it’s lost.”

“I really can’t say ma’am. Our real strengths on that territory aren’t spread around very well, and our proximity to the Skyians will help us quite a bit.”

“Allright, let’s move to what we can do at the moment. What do we have in Carpanthium?”

“Well, officially: nothing. We never sent anything military anywhere in Haven.”

“Cut the bullshit and smart assing, what do we have?”

“3 wings of Sariels, 3 falling hammers for each, a shitload of Porcupine ICCMs, and that’s about it.”

“Allright, give the go ahead for Operation Disabled List, and Operation Open Season”

Several of the chiefs pulled out phones and began speaking into them.

“Now,” Erika continued, “What’s the situation within our home region?”

Northland

“Roger, sir.” General Chris Markham said into his phone, then shut it and then turned. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said to the room, “it’s showtime.”

All over Haven, phone calls began to be received, and combat air patrols were stepped up. All safeties were taken off weapons and any ship flying the Questarians commonwealth flag or any of its commonwealth flags, it would be promptly boarded, the crew taken as POWs and scuttled, or sunk by aircraft.

AWACS over Northland turned on their active search RADARs and began sweeping for any QC craft.


Carpanthium
The same corporal that was once in his desk was now in his aircraft. A total of 54 Sariels were based out of Carpanthium, and were now spread apart, leaving room in between them as to make it tough for any radar to get a decent lock on them. Along with the Sariels were several dozen modified ISF-14 Archons, having two of their bays adapted for fuel storage, these craft could hold 6 missiles but had the range of most long ranged bombers.

“Target packages confirmed ladies and gentlemen, let’s go and make the Northfordians hurt a bit, no?”

Their targets: the Northfordian shipyards, northfordian steel mills and several major air defense sites, with 10 sariels dedicated to the first mission, 10 to the second, and 33 to the last. The Sariel’s upgraded ECM suites began going on full power, locking onto any active Northfordian radar, and targeted it with one of IA’s ALARM missiles, the AGM-112.

It was weird to the Cravanian controllers however, because there were 54 sariels, and only 53 had moved towards Northford, the other had gone stealthy upon takeoff.

“So Jack,” Lieutenant Keller said over their encrypted radio set to the bomber pilot flying next to him, “another suicide mission today?”

“Yeah Sam, I am… let’s hope that we can get some cover before we get totally destroyed.”


Outside of Carpanthium, and on its way was that cover that Jack mentioned. That cover was a Squadron of GS-427’s inbound with a payload so deadly and so huge, that each aircraft could only hold two to an aircraft due to their massive weight. Roughly 250 of these GS-427s began to move towards the combat area, unleashing a wave of 500 of the Khan missiles, and after a quick refueling, they began to return to their base in Northland. Another 150 GS-427’s stayed on station, each letting off a barrage of their AAM-113s Theater Anti Aircraft missiles, meant mainly to target the larger aircraft, bombers, AWACS and other support craft. After unleashing their incredibly long ranged strike missiles, the aircraft landed briefly before heading back to their base within Northland.

Arcis Insula
23rd/24th Bomber Group
13th July, 2018

It was a bright and sunny day. Clear skies over the islands. However, storm clouds gathered in the distance as a if to give the beginning of the war the entrance it deserved. The bases of the 23rd and 24th Bomber Groups were a buzz with activity as Type 1000 after Type 1000 began to taxi down the long runways.

Slung underneath them was the vaunted 'Falling Hammer', 100 Ton Air Dropped Supersonic Earthquake Bomb of Ultimate Destruction. The nuclear powered aircraft activated their conventional engines for take off. Within 30 minutes almost all the planes were in the air. Only 4 remained.

"Captain Reginald to Tower, are the 22nd and 21st gonna make it down from HPAC?" Asked the Captain who sat inside his Type 1000 on the runway.

"No, Central Command doesn't want to risk losing any to the Questarians, they have some ships in the straits, so they're being saved for raids on the Questarian Colony." Came the reply from the Senior Air Traffic Controller, "You're clear for take off."

"Roger Tower!" Said the Captain as he floored the throttle. Target, Keplers Edge.

600km South of Kepler's Edge
23rd/24th Bomber Group
13th July, 2018

"All Squadrons Report in! Commence Final ordnance Check, Activate ABLs." Came the call over the radio from Captain Reginald. He looked out of the window one last time as the various squadrons reported in. The groups had gone south down around Keplers Edge and were heading north towards the colony.

His bombers had been joined by 12 Type 900s from the 23rd Bomber Group, they were given 'Red Thunder' 15 MW Airborne Lasers to defend the group from SAMs and AAMs.

As the final ordnance checks came over the radio the captain snapped back into combat mode.

"Type 900s, buzz the enemy at SABRE Speed [Mach 5.5] to draw away their interceptors/SAMs, Type 1000s, commence bombing run at max speed [Mach 3.4] on targets pinpointed by satellite. I'll see all of you at home."

With those words, the pilots of that bomber group would enter the history books in merely 9 minutes.

ABHOR THE RACIST
CLEANSE THE FASCIST
DESTROY THE COMMUNIST

The poster on the wall of Martin Smith’s bunker bore those words – stark, simple, black on the yellowish-white paper. Usually, Smith paid them no special attention. He merely let them seep into his consciousness, become part of his mind – just as he listened to the various sermons of his superior officers in BT, or how he viewed the various propaganda films of the Allanean Army. He paid no conscious attention to them, and yet there they were, part of his mind.

Now, the words would become flesh, steel even – as he rushed to the computer screen of his control point. Fed onto the computer by the MILNET were the RADAR blips of the Questarian bombers and escort planes.

Martin pushed a few buttons – and, two hundred meters away from him, the Praetorian IV missile pack moved up from it’s concealment post and reoriented itself, firing at the Questarian bombers. He did not see – but he could well envision – the strands of red, glowing smoke as they unraveled themselves from the launcher.

There were thousands of such launchers, spread out along the sea shores of San-Nereiana. Originally, they were designed to guard the place from carrier-based aviation, but they could also be swiveled to strike against aircraft that came through the narrow stripe of Azahan-Allanean border. Within seconds, the entire area was peppered with thousands and thousands of long-range SAMs.

“Goddamit, what the hell is going on out out there?” - Martin swore as he looked at his infoscreens. “It looks like they’ve got every goddamn Praetorian launcher on the border firing like it’s no tomorrow.”

And so it was, indeed. There were 25,000 Praetorian SAM launchers concentrated right around the Allanean armor positions – possibly because the launchers, were, in fact, an integral part of an armored division ( http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=8595667&postcount=3) when the tanks and cannon and so forth ship from Kriegzimmer.

And yet that wasn’t enough. Every single Allanean vehicle with an anti-air-capable cannon – down to the very Nakil 1A2 tanks – was, according to Martin’s computer screens, firing like mad at the Questarian ground aircraft.

“Shit. It must really fucking suck to be in the air right about now.”

And yet there was more that the Allaneans had to throw at the Questarians. 2,000 stealth air-superiority fighters took off from airfields in Western San-Nereiana and towards the Questarian air force. They did not engage the Questarians in open combat, nor did they need to. They just ‘spammed’ their location from afar by a vast amount of AIM-801TR 'Thunder Strike' Theater Range AAMs.

“Damn it!”

Martin’s screens went out. He was cut off from the outside world.

“Fuck you all! Fuck you! I hate you so fucking much!”

Martin would not know that, as he spoke those words, thousands of Azahan shells rained down upon the Allaneans. Many of them were pre-detonated in the air by SEPS, others were taken down by MTHEL. Yet others hit fake armor positions or were disoriented by EW. And yet, horrible losses would be caused – not near as devastating as the Questarians had hoped, but painful indeed. Everywhere, burning Allanean vehicles were strewn, intermingled with the burning bodies of Allanean troops. In the Cloyster coast, while some of the Northfordian ICCMs were shot down by MTHEL and air defenses, several dozen various defensive bunker arrays were disabled by enemy fire.

In a single strike, upwards of 5,000 Nakil 1A2 tanks were lost, as well as over 20,000 IFV’s. Additionally, over three thousand various cannon were damaged in the first strike – and, more damagingly still, several communication nodes were damaged. It was this last detail that has caused Martin’s screens to flicker out and die.

THE PURPOSE OF THE ALLANEAN SOLDIER IS TO CLEANSE THE WORLD OF SLAVERS

Marshal Tempest grinned at the poster hanging in his headquarters. It was an old thing, printed by the Army Department of Explanation during the Doomani-Allanean war – or possibly even during the Yurkan War, who knew? That was a helluva cool war, too. This one does not look as cool so far.

“Sir, I have bad news.” – the aide spoke softly.

“What is it? If it’s anything about how we lost five thousand tanks in the first few minutes of war, we have three airfields out, and we lost contact with some of our SAM positions on the North shore, I don’t wanna hear it.” – replied Marshal George Tempest.

“Sir, I checked with our permanent defenses. We can only bring about fifty of our sixteen-inch cannon to bear on the Azahan islamofascists.”

“Bring that to bear, then! And begin Code Mallet! Do it now, before their artillery takes our armored forces completely apart! Go!”

Fifteen minutes later, six arsenal ships parked in naval bases on the Northern Shore spat out their entire weapons capacity – 3,600 missiles. Of those, 600 were aimed at the ICCM launchers. Everything else targeted the artillery.

Well, almost everything else. The MRLS arrays inherent for the mechanized infantry divisions fired, too, spamming the enemy infantry with lots and lots of incendiaries.

“Sir, stage one of Code Mallet is go.”

“Good. Initiate Stage Two.”

From the Allanean arsenal ships at anchor on the Southern shore, 3,600 cruise missiles were fired, targeting one target and one target exclusively – the Azahan bases near the capital. There, they would target SAM launch pads, airfields, and, most crucially, ammo dumps. It appeared the Questarian military was into keeping its ammo dumps centralized. That had to be exploited.

Simultaneously with that, from all carriers at port, and from all untouched airfields, aircraft began to take off. It was an immense armada – 3,000 Black Mariah semi-stealthy VTOLs from the Navy, 3,000 SU-25AL “Flying Tux” ground support aircraft and 5,000 E87 gunships from the Army, 5,000 attack helicopters and 25 high-altitude strategic S-1000 bombers.

Happily, the Azahan capital was very close to the Allanean-Azahan border – and that would mean that the craft would spend very little time over enemy territory. EW and ECM aircraft were mixed in in the giant armada, and, it was hoped, the cruise missile attack would weaken the enemy SAMs just a little bit.

The Armada would arrive in several separate waves, striking the military bases from various altitudes, speeds, and angles – and they would bomb, and bomb, and bomb more. For about an hour, the skies over the Azahan bases would rain bombs – incendiary, FAE, cluster, you name it, the Allaneans had it. Within that hour, the aircraft were supposed to deliver 67,500 tons of bombs to that one location – and that wasn’t even everything.

For Code Mallet was one hell of a monstrous plan.

FORWARD! FOR MOTHER LIBERTY!

Tank number 270-136 (270th machine, 136th Armored Division) tore right through the wall of it’s semi-demolished hangar. Machines 271 and 272 were left fuming behind, hit by some lucky Azahan shells. Inside the tank, Zorro Aminadav giggled maniacally as he ripped hard at the controls that took him at full speed towards the Azahan capital.

The tank was very comfortable inside, being a quality Nakil 1A2 machine. It was cooled down to a reasonable temperature, and the tankers were kept cheerful and in comfort – in the hope that this would increase their reaction ability by those fateful nanoseconds.

And now, the time when this was tested would come soon. The Allanean divisions began to move out towards the Azahan capital, moving in two columns spearheaded by 25 giant SHBT’s, the Imperators. While this limited the speed of the columns to about fifty kilometers per hour, the huge power of the tanks was worth it. And besides, it would only take them a few hours to meet the Azahan army bases.

This was about to become interesting.

”Good morning. This is the latest new bulletin from the Army Deparment of Explanation. We are joyful to report that, fourteen minutes ago, the first Allanean SHBT’s – the USS Hell on Wheels and the USS Litany of Fury have crossed the Azahan borders. Even today, as the war barely begins, it is already taken to the enemy For our soldiers at the various fronts, we have one sentence only:

“The Mallet has struck.”

Allanean troops on Roanoke-Island understood that signal. They knew what to do. They rushed to their nuclear pulse guns, preparing to readjust the aim of the three Mark II cannon that Allanea possessed, and of the 12 turreted, extremely modified Mark I’s.

The first salvo, from the Mark II’s, came within only half an hour. The second, from the Mark I’s, an hour later. Both of these would have the same target – the Azahan military bases nearest to that nation’s capital.

Allanean troops on the Cloyster Coast understood that signal. They knew what to do. They rushed to the control panels of their Khan launchers – and, tearing out of underwater “Khan-cans”, 200 missiles were launched, targeting Questarian naval assets in the Strobovian Line.

Allanean troops in the Yurka-City understood that signal. They knew what to do. From that city, 50 Sariel bombers with their escorts – a hundred “Shadow” ASFs - took off. They passed near Ceylon – approaching it within a range of 400 kilometers – and targeted airfields and air defenses.

WHILE VILE COMMUNISTS DRAW BREATH, THERE CAN BE NO PEACE.
WHILE OBSCENE THEOCRATS’ HEARTS STILL BEAT, THERE CAN BE NO RESPITE.
WHILE FILTHY SLAVERS STILL LIVE, THERE CAN BE NO FORGIVENESS.

Click here for OOC summary (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12882253&postcount=172)

“And so it is
Just like you said it should be
Life Goes easy on me
Most, of the time…”

Central Command Bunker, Northford.

James Tricker, Rear Admiral didn’t like the early mornings. Especially when he hadn’t had much sleep. Command Bunkers weren’t supposed to be comfortable, and last time he was in one the story ended in Northford moving to Haven. But he was younger then, and far less aware of the… benefits that a command bunker offered. They were ‘connected’ with the Military Command of a country, and, far more so than Superdreadnoughts that he was used to, they were protected.

He was in his office when the news hit him, characteristically later than it was intended. Prime Minister Brookes was overseas trying in vein to hammer out an 11th hour peace with the Cravanians and Oceanians, and he was in charge, along with Dave Fenlon, the Chancellor of the Exchequer. A ‘Solid Team’, was how the rest of the Cabinet took the news; they were both friends, and they had both been members of the Cabinet since Brookes formed his first Government. Fenlon had been the longest serving Chancellor in the History of Northford, overseeing the Questarian and Cravanian engineered ‘Great Recovery’, while Tricker had long been the Defence Advisor to the Northfordian Government, until he was promoted to the Foreign Ministry, after the move.

All in all, a rather able couple. Tricker was placed in control of Foreign Affairs, the Commonwealth and Defence, while Fenlon was placed in control of the Economy, Industry, and everything else. This hardly prepared them, however, for the war. As far as they knew they were overseeing the last stages of Mobilisation, not taking the helm at the most crucial time in Northford’s history, ever.

‘The News’, however, wasn’t that the Commonwealth was going to war. That came three minutes later. ‘The News’, as it was called was that Oceanian Planes were striking targets within Northford.

“It has begun” he said. Walking out of his office, he descended from his offices to what was affectionately known as ‘The Hub’.

Taking his place at the centre of the room, he headed the ‘Squircle” shaped table.

“Gentlemen.” He began, having changed out of his ‘Politician Fatigues’ and into standard Northfordian Navy Fatigues. “We’re here to win the war.”

Unlike every other person sitting at the table, he was the only one with any real experience in an armed service. They were sweating in the poorly air conditioned room, loosening their ties and unbuttoning their top buttons, while Tricker was wearing an unbuttoned shirt and a sky blue sleevless vest. From this moment on indeed, contrast would be spelt with a T…

“Can someone tell me just what the fuck has happened. I want numbers.” He barked, taking a small swig of his bottled water.

Defence Minister Paul Jones spoke up. “Well, they’ve targeted infrastructure mostly. They’ve knocked out 4 Surface Airbases properly, and crippled another two. As well as that, we’re relying on our Satelites and the First-Infantries Communications Unit for Intel on the ground at the moment…we’ve lost all of our Land based radar in the Northern Quadrant, and a fair part of the southern network. Deaths are numbering in the hundreds.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m not surprised” began Tricker, “I take it we’ve not got plans drawn up?”

Jones spoke again, this time rather more quickly, “Well, the defence planners didn’t bank on the Questarians fucking up so bad when it came to telling us… as it stands, they’re drawing up contingency plans as we speak.”

“Bollocks. We’re doing this my way” replied Tricker, baring his teeth a little. “Jones?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir?”

“As Commander in Chief, I’m relieving you of your duties.” Uttered Tricker, ignoring the raised eyebrows of his colleges. It was well known he did not think much of the Defence Minister. He was 15 years his junior, and had never done a days work in a uniform in his life. ‘At least’, reasoned Tricker to himself, ‘without the friction, we can do this properly.’

Waiting till the now ex-defence minister left the room, Tricker spoke, literally taking the bull by the horns.

“Right Chaps.” He started, “ This is how it’s going to be. Until we know better, Brookes is out there, and we assume him captured. This places us in a rather… precarious position. Fuck knows what’s happened, but it seems the Cravanians aren’t interested in peace, and given how strategically in the shitter we are, we can’t afford to stick to the rules. From now on, we fight hard. We don’t give ground, and we aim to hurt them as bad as (in)humanely possible. The Cravanians, Oceanians… are prepared to fight a war, and if need be, invade. All their ‘Smart Bombs’, and ‘Guided Missiles’ won’t be a match for brute force. And in any event, notwithstanding the Azahans, we won’t need to resort to brute force anyway.”

He took a pause, and since no one had anything to say, he continued.

“This is what we’re doing then. For starters, we’re locking down the boarder. When we leave this meeting, we’re going to empty the Hedgehogs, and pepper the little fuckers. And yes, for those of you who are not aware, they’ve not just got bog standard high explosive. If they’re going to invade, least the little fuckers are going to be tied down in NBC Gear.

As it goes without saying, we’re deploying the First and Third Artillery Brigade to take up their stationary positions at the prepared locations along the boarder. They’ve got smatterings of Air defences, but what-with the Urbanskies we’ve got, they’ll have enough cover we shan’t have to worry about it.

Talking about what’s up in the air, we’re going to be running around-the-clock air umbrellas along the boarder region. I know we’ve lost a fair deal of the airstrips in the NorthEast, so we won’t be able to field our best planes, but we’ve still got thousands of Lions bottled up. Main issues’ going to be ammunition. I’m not awfully fond of making air incursions yet, so as far as I’m concerned the main goals going to be keeping their planes on their side of the turf, so to speak.”

“What about the Navy though?” asked Fenlon, not quite sure if he had ignored them on purpose.

“Yeah….” Said Tricker. “That’s going to be a difficult one. Best place for the 1st fleet is going to be in the Ripon Channel. While it’s the biggest, the Ripon’s got more AA, RAM and Concrete than you can shake a stick at, which means it’s the best protected place for it, until the Questarians do their bloody job and clean the place out. The Third Fleet, however, I’m going to have sent to link up with the Azahan Squadrons. What with the Allaneans, they could do with a hand, and considering we’ve got most our Subs stationed along the Az-North corridor, they’ll act as a great big bloody magnet for the pikeys, so we’ll be having our bloody clear out.

As for the 2nd, I’m keeping them back, for fire support and god knows what else with K’stan.”

Considering the Silence, Tricker continued.

“Cat got your tounges?” he asked, half rhetorically. After waiting for a moment, he continued with his tirade.

“Anyway, moving on. There’s other stuff I’ve not mentioned. We’re going to invade.”

“Wha-” interjected a couple of members of the cabinet, usually the older members, who were around to remember Cravanian Aid during the ‘Great Move’.

“Relax”, cut across Tricker. “We’re invading, and we’re going to be smart about it. For starters, we’re going to round up those Cravanians still at liberty in the Country. Given the fact our tourism industry is as dead as a doornob, we’ve got plenty of large hotels in Richmond that are free, so we’ll shove ‘em there.”

Speaking up, The Minister of Tourism raised a query.

“You are aware that those are mostly 4 and 5 Star suites Tricker?”

“Yes” came the terse reply. “And bare in mind several things. We’re going to be fighting dirty to try and force this war to end quickly. We’re not going to be killing for the sake of it; and I for one don’t agree with POW camps for Cravanians… we’re not dealing with K’stani Dogs here, remember. Also, there are other benefits. By wacking them in the middle of our biggest city, we might have just saved ourselves in a sense. They’re going to be a lot more… picky… with their targets. Don’t forget the propaganda affect this could have if we play it right.”

Taking the polite nod from the Tourism Minister, Tricker continued talking, now in his 5th minute of ranting.

“So as I was saying”, with a glance to the Tourism Minister, “We’re going to invade. Bollocks to the Army, I’m drafting in the NNLS*. I want the Para’s to lead an airborne assault on the forested South of the Colony, covered by long range Artillery provided by the Azahans. Once they’ve… probed the situation, we’ll re-assess things from there. There’s an ace up our sleeves we’ve got. Anyway, on that note, I need the Bathroom. We’ll meet again in three hours. Dismissed.”

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

Carpathanium Boarder, Northford

Word from the command bunker spread fast to the Boarder, notifying those in command to deploy the Hedgehogs. The Hedgehogs were a series of large spigot mortar emplacements along the boarder. There was one every 300 meters along the boarder, and with the mortars given non-linear trajectories, this was more than enough to ensure that the resulting ‘splash’ that would occur when launched covered the whole boarder.

The Mortars themselves were 70mm in diameter, and packed with a range of warheads. Origionally fitted with CS gas and smoke rounds, they were fitted should say, there be a biological warefare scare, and the boarder had to be clsoed to contain the spread of a contagious illness. Since the mobilisation happened however, the CS gas and smoke had been replaced with altogether different combination. On each rack now contained mortars holding a shells of ‘Who me?’*, VX, Stronium-90 Oxide and compressed anthrax spores. As well as this, the racks also contained traditional High Explosive Mortar shells, fragmentary Shells, and also finally incidenary shells.

Firing them consisted of lifting a small hydraulic lever. Hardly dramatic, but then again, in war, these things usually weren’t. Across the Northfordian Boarder, men in small, airless, re-enforced pill boxes all along the boarder were pulling levels left right and centre. They hardly knew…

…and nor would the civilians, numbering in their hundreds on both sides of the boarder.

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

As well as the hedge hogs, there were other defences being deployed across the boarder. During the mobilisation, hundreds of cars operated by Northfordian Customs were outfitted with reams of Barbed wire, and now that hostilities had been declared they were racing along the turfed border, covered by members of the Boarders light infantry platoon, who were also modifying civilian cars as roadblocks. They were removing the wheels when they were driven to the place where they were needed, welding them up and pumping them with concrete and builders rubble.

As well as this, there were other defences being put at other parts of the boarder. Several of the Airbases that had their runways badly damaged were using their utility helicopters to drop antipersonnel and Anti-armour mines just within Northfordian Boarder, following pre-arranged battle plans should any conflict take place. NAV Kellogg in particular, having had all 7 of it’s runways destroyed or put out of action took particular pleasure in fielding 12 [Name] Utility helicopters, covered by 6 [Name Attack Helicopters], fitted out with Air-to-Air missiles in order to have a fighting chance at hitting any planes that might decide to come within reach.

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

Hogwash, Carpanthanium Boarder.

This activity was, however, largely shadowed on what was happening on the main road into the Cravanian Enclave, The A45.

The Northfordian Army called the road the ‘Hogwash’, a rather humorous contradiction of the fact there really was going to be no nonsense today. Arguably one of the most visible signs of fortifications and perhaps the most useful, the A45 Corridor was a set of fortifications stretching back from the nearest city to the border, Sale, and the Carpathanium boarder. While the fortifications in the city itself had been rather more… civil, in nature, the fortifications along the main road earned themselves the nick name ‘The Blight’.

Trenches, Re-enforced Artillery Shelters, underground storage for Nakils and IVF’s, SAM sites, pill boxes, foxholes and even makeshift parking for when the time came to remove traffic from the roads.

The Blight had done it’s job. The road was cleared of Traffic from the Carpathanium boarder to the Edge of the City of Sale. Everything that was going along it was military: IVF’s, MBT’s, APC’s… the range of acronyms was astounding. The assault on Carp hadn’t started yet, but the clock was ticking.

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

Contrary to what was being discussed in the caverns of the central government bunker, the Northfordian Airbase was already deploying its fighters and interceptors for a counter attack. This would arguably go down in history as one the boldest moves in the History of the Northfordian Airforce.

Given the Mandate to ‘Protect Northfordian Airspace, Assets and Strategic Objects”, the Northfordian Air Marshals had considerable autonomy. Generally, Northfordian skies were grouped into several sectors, with the idea being that every Airbase of UrbanSky within a given sector would be able to reach the any part of the edge of the ‘sector’ within 4 minutes of being given the order to intercept.

4 Minutes.

Within those four minutes, those airbases that were not crippled, and the UrbanSky’s within range were launching their first aircraft. From the land airbases, Wraiths were being launched, while from the UrbanSky’s, Air-to-Air superiority VTOL Lions were being launched. Frankly, the Wraiths were so few in number they had no role in the formation to provide anything other than an unlucky surprise for the opponents, be it Cravanian, Oceanian or Illiorian. The amount of Lions, on the other hand, was rather perplexing. UrbanSky’s as far afield as Ripon were deploying Lions, usually fielding 20 or so each. That wasn’t a lot, but considering there were 35 of them in the area, the numbers were not to be laughed at. In all, 675 Lions were fielded backed up by a measly 12 Wraiths.

After another 4 minutes, they assembled, forming two massive Delta wings. Historians would later call it the ‘Sale Charge’, and with it, a stigma that would be attached to Northford for decades.

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

Northfordian Strategic Naval Command, Ripon

“Commanders, in case you were not already aware, you are presently being attacked by missiles from unknown submerged targets outside the Ripon Strait. The Cabinet have not been made aware of this, and subsequently, as my role as temporary Commander-in-Chief, I grant you the unrestricted permission to do whatever you deem necessary. Good Hunting.”

Putting the phone down, Admiral Hogan wasn’t quite sure what he was just told. It was Foreign Minister Tricker. Not known for his eloquent language, he had reached a new level with the message he had just sent. Admiral Hogan was full aware of quite what was going on. He did not need[i/] to be told.

Fortunately for the Admiral, the Ripon Channel had taken the hits… rather well. Like every other nation concerned, Northford was maintaining maritime patrols over the Strobovia Strait, and had particularly taken care to keep a watchful eye over the two entrances to its primary Naval Harbour. Consequently, the missiles were picked up not too long after they were launched, giving the Channel sufficient time to activate it’s missile defences, and scramble a smattering of fighters to intercept the targets. The rapidly scrambled VTOL Lions intercepted all but four of the remaining missiles. Of those four, three were defeated by the recently installed 70 mm ‘Khan Killer’ Sprite CIWS, while the forth careered into a hardened SAM site, knocking out a good portion of its Surface to Air missiles and killing a large portion of those crewing it.

“Admiral?” asked one of the captains, who was also ‘doing a tour’ at the Command Centre, “What was that?”

“Looks like…we’ve been given a free reign. Given our force readiness, that’s given me a fair bit of scope.”

Pausing for a moment, he looked at his watch.

“Right. Give me 15 minutes. In the meantime, I want every dammed sub we’ve got to beat to General Quarters, lock down the Western Sea Board, get them looking for everything, everywhere else. It’s a Free Hunt. Also, I want a coupla of strikes at Millingston. Give the little fuckers something to think about. We’ve got our own ICCM’s here, might as well use them. I know Tricker didn’t tell me the cabinet wasn’t watching for a reason. Little fucky Cravens…”

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

Naval Strategic Weapons Facility A

The Northfordian Navy was the only branch that had it’s own strategic weapons outside of the ‘Strategic Defence Force’, and with good reason. When it came down to naval warfare, two things governed victory: Range, and Size. With it’s own stocks of Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles, it had the range to engage almost anything, while packing the firepower to take down things the size of a Hood.

Today, however, they were being used on a different Target: Millingston. The main population centre in Carpanthanium, it would be the first of many atrocities committed by the Northfordians on their traitorous ex-allies. Forty-five Intercontinental Cruise Missiles, with a range in the thousands of kilometres were being launched at the coastal city. Given a ‘Coast Hugging’ path, they were being launched with the express purpose of causing the maximum civilian casualties possible. ‘A dead man cannot invade’, was the reasoning here. Further, regardless of the fact it was a civilian target, in the rescue efforts countless battalions of men would be drawn from regular service, thus weakening any possibly invasion of Eastern Northford.

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

Azaha, Port Rupert

News of the start of the war had in fact reached Azaha a few moments before it had reached the command bunkers at Northford, owing to the fact that unlike in Northford, the Azaha Station was in fact a joint operation between Questarian and Northfordian Troops. This meant that rather waiting for the bombs to drop, as they had in Northford, new arrived literally from the ‘Horses Mouth’.

In doing so, the Northfordians in the artificially constructed Port Rupert did, rather, have time on their side. Port Rupert was a rather ‘new’ port, it had been constructed by Northfordian Engineers during the build up, complimenting a series of small shipyards along the Northfordian Coast that were churning out Frigates, Destroyers and Corvettes. Between the time preceding the initial Questarian Mobilisation, and the start of hostilities, 16 ships had been constructed, bolstering the ships that the Northfordians had already deployed to Azaha. In total this meant that there were some One Hundred and Twelve ships based at Azaha, consisting of the ‘Azaha Squadrons’-Battlecruisers and Light Carrier orientated strike groups- and ‘Azaha Guard’ –Frigate and Corvette Ships, mostly armed with SAMS-.

This was not all that the Northfordians had based at Azaha Station. As well as this, there were 60 premier Wraith Air Superiority planes based there, complimenting the hundreds of planes based on the 15 Carriers that called Port Rupert their home Port. Furthermore, there was also a small contingent of Marines defending the port, numbering around 20 000, who were tasked with maintaining the hastily erected coastal defences as well as the extensive SAM network that surrounded the Northfordian Operated SAM Network.

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

Open waters, [I]'Azahan Corridor'

Being at sea at the outbreak of war is a rather mixed blessing. You’ve got the benefit of being the first one the scene, allowing you the ability to be one of the first responders, however there is a drawback that you become one of the prime targets.

The 3rd Azaha Squadron did indeed have this mixed blessing. One of the Larger Squadrons, it contained three Duke Class Heavy Battleship, 15 Victorious-class Battlecruisers, as well 15 Shield Bearer light cruisers, 45 Praefele Destroyers and 65 Minister Class Frigates. For it’s air wing, it had 3 Court Class CV’s, and 6 Walmsley Class light carriers. By all accounts, it was poised to make the first strike into the Cravanian Territory and within moments it did.

Fortunately, it was on the return leg of its voyage, having resupplied at the port of Rotterdam, located 40 miles north of the K’stani boarder. Upon getting the order, it swung its course around, doing a rather spectacular U-turn as soon as it passed the K’stani border. It increased it speed from it’s ‘convoy cruise’ of 16 knots to 27 knots, the fastest cruise the massive Duke Class Battleships could sustain, and headed towards the southern edge of what would later be known as the ‘Strobovia Line’, deploying several fighter wings above it to ensure it had local air superiority, and firing its first wave of Missiles.

The first wave of missiles were a mixed bag, mostly targeted ports and harbours along the Carpathanium Coast, aiming to disable any attempts to infringe upon the Azahan Corridor, as well as several aimed at the civilian centre of Millingston. Further, several of the pickets on the outside of the formation targeted the nearest picket ships of the ‘Strobovia Line’, firing off several dozen long range shipping missiles at relatively few targets.

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

Southern Azahan Seaboard, Azaha

As well as at the Northfordian end of the Corridor, several happenings were also occurring at the Azahan end. News had reached Azaha station relatively quickly, and thus moves were being taken almost immediately to ensure the Commonwealths Strategic Targets were being met. The First Azaha Guard was deployed from Port Rupert, with orders to skulk up the San Nereianan coast, they were aptly dispatched, being one of the Flotilla’s kept at ‘Maximum Readiness’ during the mobilisations, and were approximately 12 kilometres from leaving Commonwealth waters, and barely 3 before they could start to fire their light missiles at ‘Targets of Opportunity’ along the northern Nereianan coast.

Also, in the corridor, the numerous submerged assets were coming to life. Unlike those under direct Northfordian Command, those at Azaha Station had a set of rigorous pre-planned orders, since combat of this type had long been predicted. When news reached them, they activated ‘Operation NeedlePack’, forming up into four distinct groups. Those on the northern seaboard were tasked with either supporting the San Nereianan blockade, or heading towards the Midlonian colony of [name] to initiate a blockade, while those on the south were tasked with heading towards the Scandavian Colony of Rana, or the southern coast San Nereiana

The southern coast of Azaha, however, was a rather more…aggressive affair. It was identified by Commonwealth planners quite early on in the mobilisation states, that while the southern coast of Azaha, and indeed the whole continent did not yield large naval fleets, there were more than enough places to berth a submarine or two, which would wreak havoc on Commonwealth shipping as the war progressed.

In planning for this, the Commonwealth did take a number of measures. For starters, it instigated ‘Open Eye Network’, a large fleet of Maritime patrol vessels looking for surfacing subs. As well as this, the Commonwealth had based a large number of bombers on the Azahan Island of [name], with corresponding escort fighters.

Upon word of the launch, they set off, 50 ‘Sonic’ Ultra-fast Strategic Bomber, flanked by 120 VTOL launched Su-F Lions. They were tasked with bombarding the Nereianan coastline, with an aim to shut down the NATO Submarine Efforts. There was no sense of co-ordinated targeting, they were aiming any structure on the water line: Independent Northfordian Satellites lacked the resolution to see details, and the overloaded Questarian Network had not yet provided them with answers, they could have been bombing anything…

Backing up this attack, were the naval resources of the Third Azaha Squadron. One of the smaller Flotilla’s, it lacked heavy surface combatants. Instead, it replied on 12 Arsenal Ships, supported by 12 Praefele Class Destroyers, and 5 Minister Class Frigates. Like the Bombers that were flying over head, they were not sent to attack particular shipping targets. Instead, they were deployed to help hinder NATO submarine efforts, with the Arsenal ships firing their compliment of the latest Questarian Cruise Missiles while still in dock, and the Destroyers and Frigates being launched at maximum speed, with an effort to ‘soak up’ some of the NATO fire, and draw forces away from the Azahan-Nereianan boarder.

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

And Finally!

The following message was wired to the Cravanian Embassy in Northford:



Moments ago, aircraft originating in your territory fired upon Northfordian Targets in Northford Territory.

Barring the immediate transferral of funds amounting to not less than Sixty Billion Universal Standard Dollars to pay for compensation, as well as immediate demilitarisation of the enclave of Carpanthanium, a state of war exists between our two Countries as effect of now.

All treaties, et al, are henceforth suspended.



OOC Note: I'll post footnotes, fill in blanks, etc in a few hours. Gotta run just posting it now so I've finally got my post 'up' there. And yes, it's nto been spellchecked, and requires a bit of editing. I'll do it when I get back

Summery in OOC thread ftw

Daedalus - Meaning “Cunning Worker” was a most skillful artificer, so skillful that he was said to have invented images.


Operation Daedalus - 450 metres from Northfordian border

“Shut up, noise discipline! Make sure your Thermoptics are on! Check your breathing apparatus!” hissed the female sergeant as she moved crouched down in the tall grass and sparse woodland near to the Northfordian border, her distinctly dark skin and accent easily identifying her as a Bircherese despite the bulky NBC suits they were now wearing.

MIRA had estimated that any such sustained attack by the Northfordians would doom the Carpanthanium Expeditionary force. Unless they managed to strike several things early on to at least swing the favour back to a more neutral point, and to not fight symmetrically as many other fronts would be finding themselves embroiled in.

“Ok, so, now, you see it? Use your IR's to spot the damn Pillboxes, and set up the launcher, quickly.” the Sergeant hissed quietly as her two female accomplices hurriedly set out the “Building Basher” rocket launcher used by the Midlonians in more street fighting areas than here in the countryside.

MIRA had also estimated that the Questarian Commonwealth’s position was at best untenable bar a strategic miracle like the overrunning of Allanea thousands of miles away to the north. This meant that members such as the Northfordians could become desperate and open up the “Forbidden warchest” as it was known, it was also expected that they’d try to slow down any Allied counter-attack by using parts of said warchest. So the best bet was to at least try to delay the possibility of the Northfordian positions being able to deliver any such weapons.
That had unfortunately failed and now the secondary mission was to simply throw confusion to the Northfordians to see if they could panic them.

“We’re coming up to the mark, find the target for fucks sake!”

The Building Basher operator clicked her sights a couple of times before using a collapsible telescope to find the small Pillbox.

“Got it!”

MIRA had also decided that the way in which the Northfordians were now potentially behaving, they could easily be spooked, especially considering the forces deployed to Carptharnium were much smaller than those arrayed against them.

Operation Daedalus 600 metres from Northfordian border

Further two man teams had moved forward with various recording devices, on them were shouts of orders, whistles and various engines gunning up and moving out.

The Midlonians had chosen wooded areas and various dips and hollows to perform this part of the operation, it was mostly a psychological one. Hoping they’d be easily spooked and distracted by “potential” massed attacks would mean they’d be distracted from the real ones.

“This’ll never bloody work…” muttered a soldier as he set the large “boom box” down, and turned the volume right up, his radio clicking as he spoke.

“Just shut up and press play!” snapped the other as he looked around him, his MA-95 raised.

With a click, and hundreds like it, the Midlonian “Attack” began.

Whistles screamed and blew, then tank engines gunned into life, the sound of mortars going “thunk” and whistling shells that would never land.

Orders in the distinctive foreign toungue of the Bircherese, the methodical chant of “Jumalabay-Deop!”

The impression they hope to convey was a massed Midlonian attack not too far from the Northfordian positions, thus allowing chaos to begin to take hold or positions scrambling while the missile teams got to work.

Many just fired under the “cover” provided by the noise and withdrew sharply.

Around 1/3 of the teams made it back unscathed, the other 2/3rds all had wounded, KIA or MIA within them.


Ariadne, in Greek mythology, was daughter of King Minos of Crete and his queen, Pasiphaë. She is associated both with the battle of Theseus and the Minotaur; and with the god Dionysus.

Armada 35 - Operation Ariadne

The 89th Armada was one of 8 such armadas consisting of 240 ships assigned to the Strobovian-strait area. It consisted of some 6 Carrier Battle groups which usually had one major aircraft carrier [typically a CVN] and two lighter carriers within them for operational flexibility in the Strobovian Theatre, all in all some 6 CVN’s and 12 lighter carriers and necessary escorts from numerous Destroyers, Battlecruisers and even some of the Haven Class Battleships.

It was headed by a Rear Admiral Gerald White, 39, from the CVN Jack Robin, who was presently staring steely at the holotablet in his hand.

“So this is what we got ta do? Knock out a Northfordian group?”
“And to secure the sea lanes between them and Azaha. That way we can starve one theatre of supplies, well, for the main part.”

“Hrggh.” White furrowed his brow and took off his cap and wiped his brow with a handkerchief. “They’re attacking the Allied line, why the hell isn’t Ted Carver doing this from Armada 26?”

“He’s saying he’s too far away sir, and that we’re better equipped to the situation.”

“Bullshit, he’s got 2 Light Carriers less than us, how will that swing the battle?”

The aide shrugged, and White sighed again.

“Put us to flank speed and go after the bastards.”

“Aye, aye sah!”

----------------
The Midlonians were to the South East of the Northfordians, and now gunning for their flank. The carriers deployed their own airwings aloft and moves swiftly North-West after the Northfordian group, the plan was to crush the battle group between themselves and the Strobavian line, then swing about and lock down the water way between Northford and Azaha.

Directive 14-A; Imperial Department of Intelligence:

Negotiation with and/or sponsoring of terrorist or other commonly identified threats to international security is against the interests of the Empire and her Overseas Territories. The Imperial Crown does not recognize terrorist entities as legitimate legal entities, and therefore negotiation or relation with such groups is to be avoided in all but the most dire of situations as outlined by His Imperial Majesty, the Primary Director, or qualified members of the Cabinet.

Directive Dated 26 November, 1962


Primary Director Anagrams sat in her office, reading over memo after memo of the developing situation. A grim day dawned in Laurana as the missiles flew in the Strobovian. A gentle rapping came at her door, an aide who seemed to be in a rush walked in without waiting for confirmation, in his hand a white slip of paper with red outlining around the edges. Without words she read the slip, and immediately looked up from the slip.

"When did this happen?"
"Hour or so, if that."
"How?"
"Things got hot fast, I would assume, ma'am..."

Elizabeth sat in silence for a moment, resting her jaw on her clasped hands as she propped herself up by her elbows.

"Well we could pay them... But I will not disarm that territory."

Another aide entered the room at a brisk pace, handing a second slip of paper off, then readjusted his tie which had been flapping in the breeze of his movement. Anagrams read it, and immediately her expression darkened.

"Billy, send a response to the Northfordians.", she said. "An attack has been initiated on civilian targets in Millingston. Tell them we don't negotiate with terrorists."
"Yes, ma'am."

Anagrams rose, her second aide tailing the first. Anagrams made her way to the concealed elevator which led to the central command bunker deep beneath Laurana. It was here that many members of the government had met, while military leaders were located in the strategic command center further south.

"Situation report.", she demanded as she arrived in the room.
"Northfordians and Azahans have joined their Questarian puppet masters, while the Midlonians have joined up with NATO forces on the frontline of the Strob to keep them out.", Director of Defense Peter Webbings.
"Damage?"
"With all due respect, ma'am, and forgive my language, but we've lost a fuckton of ships. Most have been damaged beyond repair, four have been sunk outright, and the rest are either still in fighting condition or temporarily out of commission as things get sorted out."
"Espada?"
"Practically dead in the water. So many missiles were thrown at it... It's still afloat since every missile was aimed at the superstructure and gun turrets, but at last tally there's well over four thousand sailors dead, four to five thousand seriously wounded, and countless others who were minorly injured or major injuries which were quickly recoverable."
"Any good news?"
"Scandavian assets are inbound as we speak... And our air units are at least performing competently. We've managed to deny Commonwealth forces air superiority thusfar. At the moment we're the only NATO fighter forces in combat, but Oceanian fighters have launched and other NATO forces are expecting to be contributing soon. One thing's for sure, though, that the Archon and the Opinicus performed as expected."

Anagrams walked to the touchscreen display table, upon which allied forces and their statuses all over the world were listed.

"Bring Divine Shield to full alert readiness. I don't want to be caught off guard at home just in case. Have the reserve units activated and moved to full time garrison duties. Prepare the nation for possible combat here at home, but things don't change for civilian life just yet. Our economy hasn't gone into total war mode by any means and I doubt it will, plus private factories would remain under private control and thus not forced to produce weaponry."
"We'll get right on that, ma'am.", Webbings replied as he snapped his finger at a nearby phone operator to relay the orders.

Anagrams studied the table, panning it across the world view as she searched for what she was looking for.

"How'd the Scandavian airfield put up against the Questarian kinetic assault?"
"No word yet, ma'am, however I've already sent out a message requesting permission to use the base for our Sariels and we were approved. We're waiting for confirmation of the runway's status before we pull them out completely."
"Good, good... Thirty Sariels shouldn't be much of an extra load for them for a few days until we can safely get their crews and such transferred over as well."
"We're painting the aircraft that carries them over in Clandonian colors so as to prevent them from shooting down a neutral aircra-"
"No, they'll probably shoot at Clandonians... Paint the plane in Willinkian colors. If the Willinkians somehow find out just tell them it was for our technicians' safety, I'm sure they'll understand since I can't see any negative affects to it."
"Done and done.", came the response.

Anagrams looked over the map further, equating the blue blots which happened to mark Cravanian positions as her white chess pieces, the red blots being the black pieces which were known. She had made her moves. Now all that was left to do for her was wait for the black pieces to move and respond accordingly.

The game had begun. Billions of lives hung by a thread. The clock was ticking away, each passing second taking a millenia.

Your move., she thought.

***********************

Archived GTNN Report
Three Minutes and Thirty-Four Seconds Earlier

Golden Triangle News Network: Information is free, the truth is priceless

The news broadcast opened like any other, returning from the commercial break like on a normal day. This, however, was not a normal day for the media. The day's anchor for the morning segment, Laurana time, was Paula DeResio, a favorite among Cravanian audiences. Her brown eyes focused on the camera which lay before her as a crew member counted down from five silently with his fingers, finally pointing at Paula to symbolize they had gone live.

If you're just joining us, the "Crisis in the Strob" as it has been dubbed continues to develop with each passing minute. Bringing us the latest up-to-date reports is our correspondent Michael Keaton in Millingston. Michael, what can you tell us?

The camera switched to a bisected view, Paula in the home studio on the left while Keaton, dressed finely in a red shirt and black tie while sporting a correspondent's field combat vest, was on the right. Keaton began his report as any other in the field.

Well, Paula, the situation around the Strobovian Strait is continually heating up, as Commonwealth forces continue to pour in through the mouth of the strait at what has been dubbed by NATO forces as the "Strobovian Line." NATO has instituted what they call "Operation Fortress Strob" which, in simple terms, is a plan to deny the strait to Commonwealth forces. The strait is a crucial point for shipping on both sides, and thus control of the strait will be continually contested for some time by NATO commanders' estimations. The longer the strait can be held, though, the easier it will be for NATO forces to resupply and keep Commonwealth forces from reinforcing their position in the east.

Is there currently any threat to the citizens of Carpanthium, in particular Millingston?

At this point, Paula, we're not completely sure on that one. NATO commanders have doubts that the Commonwealth is willing to risk the PR bashing associated with attacking civilian targets, but as with any conflict civilians are obviously in danger. For the most part Underground stations are being used as bomb shelters, and are far enough below the surface that the population should be relatively safe in comparison to past conflicts.

Now, what of the Northfordians who were living in Millingston?

According to government officials, the Northfordian civilians living, working, or travelling in Millingston will be interned in the downtown Imperial Suites Hotel, with the Cravanian government footing the bill. The hotel was relatively empty with the rising tensions, and thus was seen as a better alternative to prison camps and the like. Considering the Northfordian people have been friendly with the Empire for decades now, it's only appropriate. I've been told many Northfordians have already been moved in and processed, and more arrive at regular intervals. The first group of Northfordians were moved into the west wing, at which point when full they will begin filling the east wing, then the central tower of the building. I've also been told by Cravanian officials that the same courtesy is expected to be given to Cravanian nationals presently in Northford.

Also, what of Steir Castle and the former Emperor Matthew?

As Keaton began his answer, he was cut off by the shrill cry of air raid sirens. His face changed to an expression of shock and surprise as makeshift triple-A batteries let loose at the skies above the city. Another GTNN crew member approached Keaton, coming on camera for a moment as Keaton nodded at what he was told.

Paula it seems I spoke too soon earlier., he shouted over the sirens and thunder of anti-aircraft artillery. Cruise missiles have been detected on a direct heading towards the city, but we're not sure yet if their targets are civilian in nature or otherwise.

Before he could speculate further, the first missile broke through the wall of lead. It dove into a suburban neighborhood on the far side of the city, the camera messily turning around to capture the footage. Soon more broke through, mostly impacting points of interest around the city. Then the largest explosion yet occured, as a missile slammed into the Imperial Bank of Carpanthium building, a skyscraper which dominated the skyline of the city. Fires raged in the upper floors as Keaton watched on with horror. "Dear Jesus...", he remarked, while holding his microphone low towards his waist, his mouth gaping.

Paula, it seems Commonwealth forces have made a stab at Millingston, whether intentional or otherwise I'm unsure., he stuttered.

Another large explosion, this time at a large building at the far side of the city in the heart of the downtown area. The missile impacted in the western arm of the building, which was built with a central tower with two wings extending off from the central spire. Keaton returned the microphone to his mouth as he looked back towards the camera.

The building just struck now was the Imperial Suites Hotel, which as I mentioned earlier is being used to house Northfordian citizens interned temporarily... It doesn't look like the damage is too bad, but a large chunk of the western wing is currently ablaze and unstable. I'm... Well, I'm currently speechless... The city is burning before my eyes here, and really it just hasn't sunk in completely...

Keaton was about ready to break down on camera. Despite all his years as a journalist covering wars and combat, he had never before seen something like this. The sight of Millingston burning under the hellstorm unleashed from Commonwealth missiles caused a tear to form at the corner of his eye, and it trickled down his cheek. A sight which millions, perhaps billions saw. It would be an iconic image for decades to come, as a journalist broke down on camera with the burning city of Millingston behind him.

The picture suddenly went static as contact was lost, the local channels being adapted for military use to better prepare for a second bombardment, if any. The news crews would continue to film, and send the images of these events taking place across the world for all eyes to see via internet connection. Although a devastating loss of life, the bombardment would prove to be yet another nail in the coffin of the Commonwealth as public opinion would obviously sway.

When contact was lost, the image of a tearful Paula returned fullscreen, unable to control herself as images of the city burning continued to play in the upper right corner, a recording of the past few minutes.

We're going to cut to a commercial break., she said, barely able to speak as tears choked up her voice. The camera cut, the screen going black for a moment as regularly scheduled commercials were pushed up in the schedule to cover for the lost time.

As it turned out, Ms. DeResio's father was in Carpanthium at the time, representing his firm in a business meeting at the Imperial Bank of Carpanthium. He was among the suspected dead of the first wave.

OOC: Check, my most Northy friend. Your move.

Strobovian Strait
295th Submarine Squadron
SGNS.3902
13th July

"Captain sir, orders from the Admiralty." the communicatiosn officer patched through the orders from the ultra-secure datalink and Captain Hashimoto strolled over to take them from the machine. He ripped the order printoff and read it to himself quietly then grinned smugly.

Hashimoto took the microphone to address the whole crew. "Crew, as you know, we are at war with NATO. Their forces are reeling from our assault all over Haven. Forty minutes ago the Armada known as Force D attacked the Cravanian flagship the Espada Del Imperio, crippling it beyond all hope. Our surface fleets are rolling through the Strait like a hot knife through butter and it is the purpose of the Submarine Fleet to support this. We are therefore going to put the nail in the coffin of the flagship of the Cravanian Navy."

Shouts of "Huzzah!" and the like echoed around the bridge and the boat itself. Just as NATO had deployed vast amounts of warships in the Strobovian Strait, Questers had already responded in kind by bolstering its submarine forces tenfold. Hashimoto had no doubts that the Questarian bulldozer would roll through the Strob and take all resistance with it. The thousand odd submarines in the Strob had stayed hidden; most untracked; from the all seeing NATO eye and now it was time to put them to use. Massive submarine reserves had been deployed already and IGHQ was phasing units in and out to be rearmed adn replenished and bringing new units in. That was the plan, at least.

Furthermore, the strking range of the QS-N-62 gave it sufficient ability to strike in large areas of the Strait, so in situations like this, so large groups of submarines could be brought to bear on single targets. Like the Espada Del Imperio. The NATO forces sending carrier battle groups to the area would soon realise this. With 150 submarines in 25 squadrons within effective striking range of the Espada Del Imperio, an immense amount of firepower could be brought to bear, and although the missiles could themselves be brought down by SAMS and apparently CIWS, the submarines only surfaced every so often for orders or to fire, before they went below the waves again. Over a period of thirty minutes slightly less, accounting for missile failures or interceptions by lucky helicopters, than 3,600 missiles were launched at the Cravanian capital ship. That wasn't all either.

In Force D, three strike cruiser squadrons had been fitted with the latest in the ine of long-range strike missiles, the SS-X-38. The weapon was experimental and although it had never been tested in combat, it had done fine in testing, so it was expected to perform well. Each cruiser carried 70 SS-X-38s and they'd be tested on the Espada. Along with another seven cruiser squadrons they launched their missiles against the Cravanian ship with the same time the Submarines were ordered to engage. In total, 630 SS-X-38s were launched from the three squadrons in addition to 3,738 SS-25s from the rest of the seven cruiser squadrons in the 8th Cruiser Division. Surely, no more munitions would need to be wasted on the Espada Del Imperio.

London
Imperial General Headquarters
13th July

Just as the Scandavian Princess Lien had visited her military command, so to did the Questarian heads of Government and State. Upon entering IGHQ's command room various personnel saluted as King Alexander II and Prime Minister Foxbury nodded to teh various command personnel. In front of them was Chief of Staff Maritime Yukari Tanizaki representing the Navy, with her assosciate Air Marshall Yoshida to represent the Navy Air Service. For the Army, General Harrington and his assosciate in teh Army Air Service Air Marshall Hopplewith.

"Good morning Sirs." The King addressed them all and they saluted and nodded and replied "God Save the King."

"Your Majesty, Mister Prime Minister, I would like to start my presentation first, as there is exceedingly good news." The Navy Chief said, grinning. She had been up all morning directing the operation and the lack of sleep and fatigue was already showing, teh opening moments of the war being some of the most harrowing because victory was required so essentially.

"Very well then." the King nodded and the PM was bound to follow.

"Your Majesty" she began, pointing to the point of the Battle of the Strobovian Strait in the strategic theatre map. "Here NATO has arrayed us a defensive line. Everything they can muster is being thrown against us here to stop us penetrating the Strobovian Strait. Including a Hood class." King Alexander looked on.

"An hour ago, a missile strike from our fleet here named Force D under Fleet Admiral Keyes disabled the vessel and crippled it beyond belief, according to what we've been able to pick up. We're finishing it off now and by the end of the day the Espada Del Imperio will be no more."

"Incredible!" King Alexander II gasped. "A Hood class? You mean, you've killed it?"

"If it won't be beneath the waves by the end of today, its likely it will never return to combat again." Tanizaki nodded.

"Outstanding. Absolutely oustanding." The King said, with the Prime Minister nodding in agreement. "We must spread the word of this immediately, and as far as we can. An oustanding victory for the Navy." Foxbury said.

"Strategically, the war doesn't go as well." Yukari continued. "Our force in Gholgoth is about to tangle with Tyrandis' Navy, andI believe there'l be a decisive victory for us there too. It appears the Gholgothans are massing against us in numbers, but we do have a tactical numerical advantage. Our best plan is to try and split them and take out their forces peacemeal. Thats why we'll be on the aggressive in Gholgoth to try and mantain naval superiority before landing. I believe we hold a tactical and technological superiority at sea, at least if not numerical."

"I see." The King replied. "What about in Haven?"

"Haven is looking much better. We're facing numerical odds here, but we'll clear the Strait, for definite, and defeating the Scandavian fleet moored here at Aurora and occupying that will provide us with a distinct superiority. We'll control one of Haven's three key sea zones and contest the other two."

"Only two?" The King looked somewhat unhappy.

"From that point onwards Sire, we will assault the Hallad Strait. Within two months time, from our base in Ceylon too, we will control all the oceans in South Haven and East Haven. The North and the Straits themselves are far too desnely populated with NATO supporting nations for us to consider a direct assault on them until we win the land war in Allanea. Our vast numerical superiority in the area of South Haven, plus massive air assets in strategic areas will ensure us dominance over this region, plus our Zukariaan comrades in arms to the East. In the East, the enemy occupies on solid ground, only easily seized colonial territory."

The King nodded and seemed more appeased. "Do we not have the strength to seize areas in the North?"

"With all due respect your Majesty, its not strategically neccessary. NATO's colonial assets and as such their ability to project power is based in the South, for the most part, in their colonial areas. After a land war in Allanea, Tyrandis, and Automagfreek there's no way we have the manpower to directly invade another NATO nation. Our strategic tasks will be fulfilled and we can concentrate on defending our gains. We must not over-run our logistics. That would be a critical mistake and I implore the government, Mister Prime Minister, not to push both the Army and the Navy to do such a thing. Over extending us beyond our lines of supply will lose us the war, no matter our tactical and strategical advantages."

"What about Ceylon?" The King said, nodding. "I had heard it was under attack."

"The enemy have launched logistical strikes on its navla facilities. Our fleet there is intact and should be engaging an Ardan force heading there today. I think that battle will be won too, sire."

"Very good." The king nodded. "Is that all the Navy has for me?"

"For the time being Sire, yes."

It was time for the Army counterpart to speak up. "Your Majesty, you must understand our position on land is much different to that of the Navy. We require the Navy to get us into foreign lands and as such not much progress has yet been made, but I will report with confidence the war is swinging in our direction. Casualties on the Allanean border are actually under our estimates, and I think there'll be a breakthrough ahead of schedule. There's not mcuh else to report; we've struck a blow in Azaha, its uncertain losses on both sides, but we've destroyed almost half their total airfield capacity. Our damage to their airfields n the border is even greater. Our initial strikes were a success but the Scandavians hit back with kinetics... unfortunately, we've had our own losses, but nothing as severe as a setback as the Allaneas have had to take. However, our losses ahve been heavy." The General reported.

"Precisely how heavy?" the King asked.

"We've lost about 10,000 aircraft and their assosciated airfields. On the ground, about ten divisions have been shattered by the enemy kinetic strike. Air superiority will be alot tougher from now on but I believe that we can mantain what we have right now. Sire, with all due respect, I know what you are thinking: that the Army has let the nation down. This is not true. We have essential air superiority over both our fronts with Allanea and while the war has only just unfolded I believe that the war on the ground will hurt NATO harder than they expected."

"I see." The King said simply. "I respect your honesty, General. I've full confidence the Army can do its tasks neccessary."

"Thank you sir."

Strobovia Strait
13th July

"Um, what the fuck?"

"Huh?" The captain leaned over to see the RADAR panel. "What the shit? An ASM?"

"It seems to be heading for us."

"An ASM can't target an aircraft. It must be rogue, or luck. Try jam it."

"Uh. Sir. There's alot of them. There's seven hundred of them coming our way."

"Oh. Fuck."

The G4M patrol of three aircraft downed a decent number of theatre AAMs with ECM, but the G4M just does not do manevoure, especially against anything going mach 5, and they were knocked out the sky. [Don't worry about this; me and Illior have gone over it and it was just abig misunderstanding on his part XD]

Azaha
13th July

The massive amount of SAMS coming towards the enemy aircraft was not as large a problem as teh Allaneans expected it would be. Firstly, the smaller version of the Praetorian which the Allaneans used in a mix did not have the combat ceiling to reach the Questarian planes, flying high at over 11,000 metres, unless it was directly below them, and by then it would have lost any maenvourability it had. As such, a great number of Allanean missiles were wasted. Even more so, ECM, chaff, and dedicated pilots took their toll on the enemy missiles. Concentrated ECM abilities and chaff and other basic countermeasures were able to hurt the larger Allanea missiles more effecitvely than the low flying aircraft would have been able to do otherwise. Losses were actually heavier than expected with 400 air superority fighters down, most of their pilots bailing out in time and the same number of CAS aircraft. With the initial wave of air defence over, another thousand CAS aircraft and their air superiority escorts were put into the sky, and it was time for the survivors to strike.

The CAS aircraft banked and dived hard over the advancing Allanean Army, letting loose with their HARM missiles over the Allanean formations. The missiles would direct themselves towards the source of the RADAR, even if it was turned off with their inertial guidance systems. Over 4,200 of these missiles were launched as they were packed onto the CAS aircraft to strike the Allanean air defences in the first wave of attacks, but other weapons were carried two, namely six anti ground missiles carried in packs of three on the wings which they unleashed over the Allaneans too. It would be possible and likely for a pack of three of these missiles to destroy a Nakil and 3,200 of these missiles raked across the Allanean lines. The reinforcing CAS aircraft, as they came over the Allanean aircraft, were more equally armed. They too, fired the same pack of three missiles over the Allanean tanks, which amounted to 6,000 missiles, but they also fired just under 7,000 HARM missiles, considering that some aircraft were lost to light anti aircraft fire while the Allanean air defence was reloading. However, teh first wave of CAS was devastated by the large firepower simply thrown at it by the Allaneans, and only a fraction returned home. A hundred planes out of a task force of a thousand landed on the airfields. The pilots would not be able to fight as effectively ever again. Their morale, spirit, and indeed their belief in God was crushed.

The ICCM trucks in the desert were mostly destroyed, but supply dumps in the Questarian Army are handled somewaht different. There ARE large strategic supply dumps, but they supply 'reserve' supplies to frontline supplies up to the brigade and division level. Ergo, the large centralised supply dumps that the Allaneans targeted would be empty: not that they'd know this, because they were emptied of anything of worth right before the war began. However, it was always the plan to have the ICCM trucks destroyed; the Scandavians had had the insight ot understand thisa nd not target them, which IGHQ was slightly irritated about, but it appears the Allaneans had fallen for it, devastating some 18,000 trucks. Losses where not minimal, but not heavy either; only about half the crews managed to get away in helicopters and transport trucks before their launch vehicles were destroyed.

Ground defnece wise, the Azahan Armour was spread out in the desert along a wide axis in a semi circle around the spearhead of the Allanean advance, some 60km in front of them. Three large groups of 20 divisions in each group of Azahan Nakils were waiting for the Allaneans, hoping the air could thin them down. Two of these groups lay further along the line so that only the top of the semicircle, where one group was deployed, was directly in front of the Allaneans. It was 10-1, and they were relying on the infantry to hold the Allaneans in place while the counterattack came. Over sixty thousand more Nakils lay in reserve under the cover of heavy RADAR jamming and SAM defences. Between the fatal group of Azahan tanks and the Allanean advance over long, flat desert terrain, lay millions of troops with gigantic numbers of emplaced MGs and ATGMs hidden in the sand. Several million anti tank missiles were waiting for the Allaneans to cross the border. It would be a deathtrap.

Strobovia Strait
Force D:
HMS YASHUMIHAZE
13th July

"Sir, incoming Khans. We've picked them up at at one point three kay klicks."

"You know what to do."

The Khan was a deadly weapon, rightly feared throughout the world with its capacity to destroy entire fleets. Now, the Questarian ubiquitous Mogami class air defence cruiser was going to really prove its worth. It carried a hundred of the SA-16 missiles, and although they were fired by swing arm launchers, they were designed to destroy weapons like Khan. With the whole fleet on alert after a Khan warning, it would be neccessary to mobilise every Mogami to defeat the Khans. At that range, it was only a moment of time, and all missiles could be launched immediately. The SA-16s shot out of their launchers and loading began immediately. Throughout the fleet all the Mogamis launched a wave of SA-16s, rippling through the fleet much like the attack on the Cravanian Hood earlier, though in far less numbers. Over six thousand SA-16s were in the air within 45 seconds of the Khans being linked to the Fleet Data Network. The supercomputer allocated between the network of the ships, at its maximum capacity, correct allocation of the number of missiles. One SA-16 is not enough to take out a Khan, but thirty, while may not outright destroy it, is enough to knock its motor off course, destroy its RADAR, or damage its warhead or other systems. Which they did, almost entirely without fail. With the intent of fihgting Scandavian States, the Navy had invested heavily in mass missile defence systems. While they may be effective on small scale Khan launches, it remained to be seen how effective Theatre-Fleet Air Defence was in the IQN. Five Khans penetrated, and each sunk their target, with massive loss of life. Ironically enough, five less Mogamis were on the fleet roster for Force D: after the attack was over.

Southern Fleet Command, New Birchester.

Grand Admiral Letts sighed as he looked at the live-satellite feed on the screen.

“It seems NATO doesn’t have the decent naval resolve or slugging power to hold the line. I believe they’re waiting on us.” muttered Letts.

The Hologram of the Supreme Commander flickered next to him. “So what do you intend to do?”

“The 18th and 7th Submarine Armadas are currently moving to the line now, Armada 35 is engaging a Northfordian fleet trying to hit the flank of the Strobovian Line, and the other… 7 surface armadas are currently running at flank to catch up and make a difference, but it’s simply not enough. We need more time…. I’m requesting the release of the Lima ICASM’s, and the use of our few southern kill-sats to be used.”

“You know we don’t have many kill sats as it is in the Southern Command, to waste them on such frivolous targets would be…”

“Vital.” interrupted Letts. “My apologies Supreme Commander, but put very simply we’d be dooming the better part of Three Billion Midlonians to their fate if we didn’t at least put the breaks on their naval successes. If we stop them here we’d practically annihilate their supreme confidence in an unstoppable Questarian Navy.”

“Very well, you have permission to use the ICASM’s and five kill sats. If it doesn’t put the breaks on their surface assets then you’ll have to use the armadas.” The Hologram cut off.

Breathing a sigh of relief Letts grabbed a nearby phone and began to file out his orders.

Inter continental Anti-Ship Missiles

Unusual weapons to say the least. The ICASM’s were developed as a Midlonian land-based response to the Khan Missile, a Naval version was still being created at the time the war began to “heat up” and now it had broken out… the efforts to complete it were redoubled, but it would be six months before it’d be ready. Something simply not likely.

The ICASM worked similarly to a MIRV ICBM. The main rocket itself was not used, and it was rather the re-entry vehicles that were the deadly part. Able to be guided by small wings which opened upon re-entry into the planet’s atmosphere they could be guided, top down into their targets, they would detonate around a ton and a half of explosives at terminal velocity .

250 such missiles were fired, each with 8 such anti-ship “slugs” resulting in a bewildering total of 2000 Anti-ship devices thrown at the Questarian Force.

This would soon be backed up by a further 1600 surface vessels from the 8 Armadas’ in the Southern Command Area, and nearly 500 submarines from the 18th and 7th Submarine Armadas.

Southern Fleet Command, New Birchester.

Grand Admiral Letts sighed as he looked at the live-satellite feed on the screen.

“It seems NATO doesn’t have the decent naval resolve or slugging power to hold the line. I believe they’re waiting on us.” muttered Letts.

The Hologram of the Supreme Commander flickered next to him. “So what do you intend to do?”

“The 18th and 7th Submarine Armadas are currently moving to the line now, Armada 35 is engaging a Northfordian fleet trying to hit the flank of the Strobovian Line, and the other… 7 surface armadas are currently running at flank to catch up and make a difference, but it’s simply not enough. We need more time…. I’m requesting the release of the Lima ICASM’s, and the use of our few southern kill-sats to be used.”

“You know we don’t have many kill sats as it is in the Southern Command, to waste them on such frivolous targets would be…”

“Vital.” interrupted Letts. “My apologies Supreme Commander, but put very simply we’d be dooming the better part of Three Billion Midlonians to their fate if we didn’t at least put the breaks on their naval successes. If we stop them here we’d practically annihilate their supreme confidence in an unstoppable Questarian Navy.”

“Very well, you have permission to use the ICASM’s and five kill sats. If it doesn’t put the breaks on their surface assets then you’ll have to use the armadas.” The Hologram cut off.

Breathing a sigh of relief Letts grabbed a nearby phone and began to file out his orders.

Inter continental Anti-Ship Missiles

Unusual weapons to say the least. The ICASM’s were developed as a Midlonian land-based response to the Khan Missile, a Naval version was still being created at the time the war began to “heat up” and now it had broken out… the efforts to complete it were redoubled, but it would be six months before it’d be ready. Something simply not likely.

The ICASM worked similarly to a MIRV ICBM. The main rocket itself was not used, and it was rather the re-entry vehicles that were the deadly part. Able to be guided by small wings which opened upon re-entry into the planet’s atmosphere they could be guided, top down into their targets, they would detonate around a ton and a half of explosives at terminal velocity .

250 such missiles were fired, each with 8 such anti-ship “slugs” resulting in a bewildering total of 2000 Anti-ship devices thrown at the Questarian Force.

This would soon be backed up by a further 1600 surface vessels from the 8 Armadas’ in the Southern Command Area, and nearly 500 submarines from the 18th and 7th Submarine Armadas.

Meeting room of the Supreme Command Council

Aslmadeus Sturm sat down heavily in his chair and looked to the other Commanders around him.

“Well? What’s the over-all situation?”
“Ours, or everybody’s?” replied Harold Jessington.
“Ours, then everybody’s.”

Jessington turned to Hortley. “David?”
“On the ground our situation is pretty good overall. The Questarians have barely scathed our positions on the Allanean front and our casualties are only marginaly higher than expected. The Cravanian Territorial Expeditionary Force is performing well with little in the way of casualties as yet, despite the deployment of chemical, biological ands radiological weapons in a 1 kilometre denial zone along the whole border. We’ve spooked them by attacking just about every Pillbox of theirs on a 350 mile front with the Building-Blaster rocket launchers of ours. “

“Our attack on Okielahoma so far has met little in the way of organized response and our casualties are very low. The Cbaso front has yet to see any ground fighting, we’ve confirmed landings in Barkozy and are so far meetling little in the way of organized opposition, and many targets we were expecting the Questarians or Q.C members to go for so far simply hasn’t happened, we think it’s mostly the Strobovian line that’s preventing it.”

“Navally the situation is similar. We haven’t actually committed yet, nor have our fleets actually encountered any Questarian Subs further than the Strobovian area. We were expecting something in the Haven Strait, or even further afield in an attempt to slow us down, but as of now there’s literally nothing bar the fleets currently patrolling near to the East Haven Trading Co, Ceylon which is currently under attack from our allies in Arda, and the islands under attack by a Questarian Fleet that’s being defended by The Silver Sky.” Krisola Hafeta joined in.

“Overall we can win this, it just may mean the odd allied tactical sacrifice, we physically cannot help the Skyians and their islands at the present time due to the threats from Alacea and the Northfordian and Questarian Colonies, there is every possibility the Paramount Isles would be lost to the Questarians, but it’s not as great a tactical gain as we’re gunning for with Cbaso.” Hortley continued.

"And our allies?"

"NATO's beginning to take a genuine beating on the Strobovian Line and probably won't hold without our support soon. The Allaneans are being hammered by the Questarians more than us at the moment because they know they won't break before us, thus they're prompting a retreat by annihilating the Allaneans, making our position untenable, thus breaking the line. The Skyians are being hit at Paramount, but could hold out if not totally, the Scandavians are beginning to commit troops to the Allanean front, so may swing it back to our favour and Arda is attacking Ceyelon."

“I see.” Said Aslmadeus Sturm simply. “I will let his Majesty and Prime Minister Musotana know of this. Thank you ladies and gentleman.”

“Supreme Commander.” replied the others in unison.

Camp Harrow
Cravanian Overseas Territory

"And that, General, is when their feed went dead."

Gallagher nodded solemnly, recognising that the Northfordian cruise missiles he had watched slammed into residential and commercial towers killed hundreds if not thousands of persons, civilians, who were not to be targeted. Until now, his plans and projections had been fastidiously crafted to avoid casualties, Northfordian by nature of his theatre of operation.

"Provide details of this and similar strikes to HQ, and request permission to re-evaluate the operations and directives under Code Wembley-Crown."

"Yes, General."

Gallagher then shifted his attention to the reconnaissance photos of actions being taken along and just behind the border. Most Oceanian infantry units were many kilometres behind the border, those within range of the shorter artillery pieces nothing more than a tripwire force, equipped with UAVs and remotely-operated vehicles to probe and reconnoitre. Those troops stationed along the border were most often members of the Corps of Royal Engineers or scouting units of light infantry divisions.

Whilst reinforcing defences to impede a Northfordian invasion, such as tank ditches and minefields, they also were helping to relocate any Cravanians who wished to withdraw from the border zone to safer regions within the territory. However, Gallagher now knew that those who had been watching the news earlier were well aware that they were now targets of the Northfordian armed forces.

Above the A45
Cravanian Overseas Territory

The SYRAC Viper was a small and agile fighter, designed for operations from short, rough fields. The sort of fighter capable of functioning in active war zones. Flight Lieutenant Nogoa Bitura knew that far too well. He was now an Oceanian citizen, though originally he hailed not from the Home Islands but the colony in Recedentia. Under the promise of citizenship and pay, he had enlisted in the Royal Air Force and received a basic education in Oceanian English, military tactics, and by his choice, he was taking the option for continuing studies after his enlistment, not the bonus pay. He hoped to return to his homeland and start a business.

But first, he would have to fight. And in that respect, he was not unseasoned. In the northern expanses and along the western border, Eastern Recedentia had been dealing with what the colonial government preferred to call 'forces of instability.' Bitura knew that they were nothing more than nomads and die-hard nationalists. But they had acquired weapons and as a pilot in the RAF it had been his task to carry out ground-strikes against such 'positions of instability.'

This, Cravan, Haven, all of this, however, was new. He had never before left Recedentia. His training had been at Iarapoco, far from his home, but still amongst the salty marshes and gentle plains still largely untouched by Oceanian investment. These trees were new, he was instead accustomed to fields of tall grasses if not the craggy peaks of the mountainous borders. But he also had a task to do. Underneath his aircraft a reconnaissance pod snapped pictures of the border region as he flew a few kilometres inside, well within Cravanian territory. His camera snapping pictures of tanks and other armoured vehicles rolling along the motorway.

And then, unbeknownst to Nogoa Bitura, in the distance, Northfordian fighters began to roll down runways and take to the skies. Fortunately for Bitura, the airborne command centre a hundred kilometres behind the border did pick up the massive contingent of aircraft, and broke radio silence to broadcast a warning to Bitura. He straightened out his small fighter and dove straight down to the deck, lighting his afterburner and ditching his two fuel tanks, which exploded in enormous fireballs, starting small fires in forests below.

He would arrive at his airbase before the leading elements of the Northfordian force engaged NATO air forces, technicians and maintenance personnel hurriedly removing the reconnaissance pod and transferring its digital files to a hard drive and then sending them on a secure network link to Camp Harrow, where a copy was sent to General Gallagher, another to Cravanian headquarters in Millingston, and another further up the chain of command to NATO.

Bitura, however, could do nothing but wait in his fighter as the aircraft creeped closer and closer, waiting for his tanks to be fully fueled and his armament switched out to an air-to-air role.

Elsewhere throughout Carpanthium, RAF interceptors and fighters took to the skies, bolstering the in-flight patrols as they began to mass to deflect the Sale Charge, though they called it something else far more inappropriate and slanderous. Airborne command and control aircraft signaled acknowledgement of the burgeoning Oceanian presence in the air, then offered 'good luck' and 'godspeed' as they pulled back further and took up positions higher up in the atmosphere to provide better coverage.

Of the nearly 1,500 RAF combat aircraft deployed to Carpanthium, some six hundred fighters of various roles were now in the air, four hundred or so to blunt the Northfordian 'Sale Charge' with the rest maintaining a heightened alert for incursions elsewhere along the border.

Along the A45 Motorway
Cravanian Overseas Territory

Like near Coppers Grove, Oceanian members of the NATO ground forces so close to the border consisted primarily of members of the Corps of Royal Engineers. Here, however, the massive arterial route was a target in and of itself. Nobody fooled anybody, the Northfordians were coming. It was their only real option. The brigadier who commanded the lead infantry regiment had realised that fact early on in his deployment. If the massed troops in the east of Northford moved south towards Kahanistan, as some in Royal Army Intelligence expected them to do, then Carpanthium would be the best place to attack the exposed rear. No fool would leave such an opening, and at the very best, the brigadiers troops would come under sustained long-range fire to delay and impede any invasion or at worst, an all-out ground assault to eliminate Carpanthium. He, like so many others, had been hoping for the best. But preparing for the worst.

HMS King George
Strobovia Strait

Drones and aerial assets in advance of the Oceanian picket formations had detected the submerged launches, and managed to relay the information to the various ship and unit commanders. Osborne watched the plot as digital symbols relayed the battle to him coldly and efficiently.

HMS Victorious
Strobovia Strait

Captain Thomas Richardson had just lain down for a nap, after serving his shift. In his shorts and a white tee, he had shut off the light and quickly fallen asleep when the klaxons began to sound. His mind quickly cleared, for he had been asleep for not even half an hour and thus had little to clear. He then realised as he put on his pants and shirt that he had ordered no drill. Exiting his cabin, the ships complement was already rushing to their stations as general quarters continued to sound throughout the fleet.

"What do we have, XO," Richardson asked loudly, alerting the command crew to his presence in combat.

"Aerial picket radioed in missiles, already inbound, initial telemetry showing their targets to be the carriers, sir."

Richardson frowned, knowing the inevitable. "Clear the flight deck, all alert fighters and choppers are to be in air, ready all CIDS units and find whoever managed to launch the missiles."

Two dozen kilometres out from the carriers, the escorting anti-air frigates quickly lit up their radars. The more advanced ships equipped with AESA arrays began to highlight the inbound missiles, the vertical launch cells quickly emptying, the combat systems tasking three surface-to-air missiles to each inbound. The targeting done, several of the AESA arrays switched to active jamming, using their high-focus beams to jam the inbound missiles. Datalinking coupled with the surface-to-air missiles and the shorter-ranged point-defence missiles and gun-missile units knocked out all but sixteen of the missiles.

Thus came Richardson's inevitable and with it darkness.

"Captain?"

Richardson opened his eyes to a rose-tinted world. His eyes stung, however, and he wiped the rose-colour away to a clearer, greyer, smokier world and wiped the blood from his hands. "How bad is it," he coughed, finding his executive officer and his bloodied face, and also his hand helping the captain back to his feet.

"Of the twelve carriers, sir, ourselves, the Vindictive, the Vengeful, the whole of the 5th Carrier Squadron sustained damage." Richardson swallowed a mouthful of salty blood and saliva, realising he had done so, then spit out the next, a tooth clinking upon the deck though it went unheard amongst the shouts and damage reports. The 5th Carrier Squadron consisted of three entire light carriers, and with the other two plus his, that meant half of the total light-carrier force had been sustained damage.

"Flight operations," he asked next, knowing the answer.

"Out of the question, sir. We received two hits, one near the centre of the flight deck and the other several decks below combat, near the waterline." The executive officer offered a grin, both men knowing now how close they had come to death. And how intimately the men below combat now knew death. "We have turned out of the wind, smoke now blowing off to port and while not clear for flight operations, we are using the aft portions of the flight deck to evacuate the wounded back to the fleet."

"The Commodore," was Richardson's next question, hating himself for having been knocked unconscious during the missile strike. He knew the Commodore had been using the Vindictive for his flagship, which is why his XO had listed the ship specifically.

"KIA, sir. One of the Questarian missiles managed to detonate inside the hangar deck. After that, the ship blew up, right in two and along with the Vehemence is a total loss. The Violence is still afloat, Captain Emile does not expect her to last through the night. Currently, she is evacuating personnel. And with the loss of Captain Henderson on the Vengeful, sir, that leaves you in command of the formation."

Richardson nodded, and feeling dizzy, let himself lean against the plotting table, still functioning though covered with dust and debris. "If anything like us, they would have already dived deep. Inform the Admiral that I have taken command of the task force. Bring the frigates and corvettes closer to the carriers, we hold this line behind the Cravanians. This is not going to be the last time we hear from the Questarians."

"Aye, sir."

HMS Ferocious
Southern Strobovia Strait

Heading up Force S, the Ferocious was an older dreadnought commanding a small surface-action group patrolling the southern portion of the Strait near Azazahan waters, just north of the line of control established by UK submarines and various other NATO forces. Commodore Anthony Fielding watched his own plot table, smaller and less sophisticated than that aboard the fleet flagship, carefully watching the movement of the various Commonwealth naval forces.

Of particular concern, the Northfordian force now moving northwards. Originally, at the start of the war, they had been headed south and Fielding was inclined to let them sail straight into the NATO line of control north of Azaha. They had, however, executed an about turn, and were heading north.

Satellite reconnaissance indicated a composition of eighteen capital ships and one hundred twenty escorts plus nine carriers. He had already communicated to Admiral Osborne his fear of the Northfordians' movements. If allowed to complete their run north, while small and apparently concentrating fire on Carpanthium, it could allow for the Commonwealth to engage the southern flank of the Strobovian Line forces and then later the reserve NATO force in the Oceanian fleet further east in the Strait.

With a slightly smaller force arrayed against the Northfordians, only ten capital ships and four carriers, the escorts roughly equal in number, Fielding was slightly hesitant to engage them; but his orders were otherwise.

Sea Stratus fighters were already in the air, backed by Kestrel V/STOL fighters from his three escort carriers, and his picket formations of frigates and corvettes several dozen kilometres away from his capital ships had already synchronised their missile coverage zones to provide the most efficient coverage of inbound Northfordian missiles.

The Northfordians were concentrating upon Carpanthium and the southern Strobovian Force units. Fielding was to give them an element to their east-southeast. "Instruct the pickets to engage their counterparts." A simple, clean order that would yield messy, chaotic results.

Twelve of his twenty-four AAW frigates and twelve of his twenty-four A/S frigates targeted the outer pickets of the Northfordian 3rd Azahan Squadron. Within seconds, each ship had launched eight anti-ship missiles. Not nearly large enough to engage the cruisers, Fielding had tasked them to engage the destroyers and frigates, what in the UK were termed frigates and corvettes, respectively, and so 192 missiles were now inbound.

His combat air patrol hung back, and while his fleet carrier prepared to launch strike aircraft, they too loitered above the fleet while his capital ships readied their own missiles.

Azahan Restriction Line
Strobovia Strait

Like most other nations, the United Kingdom had used the buildup to preposition several hundred submarines in the Strait. Most remained to the north, between the still-distant Oceanian forces and Questarian forces slowly headed towards a collision. A few dozen, however, lingered in the south along with a small cruiser-frigate force for surface actions.

Drones and AEW aircraft observed the Northfordian operations against San Neriana, the indiscriminate bombardment of coastal buildings and infrastructure now reminiscent of the seemingly similar indiscriminate targeting in Carpanthium. They similarly watched the Northfordian fleet in its operations, milling about in the south where they would, according to the now thrown-to-hell plan, be contained by the Azahan Restriction Line.

Beneath the surface, in the murky depths of the strait, the HMS Chieftain, a deep-diving hunter-killer submarine slowly performed a patrol. Unlike its Northfordian counterparts that unbeknownst to the Chieftain and the bulk of NATO forces headed north, the Chieftain could simply wait in position, letting the Northfordians come to her and her fellow forty-eight attack submarines.

Unlike the bulk of the Royal Navy's submarine force in the Strait, these forty-eight were hunter-killers, not guided-missiles submarines. They stocked up on torpedoes to neutralise the Northfordian-Azahan submarine force. And so onboard the Chieftain, her captain and her crew, like her forty-seven sisters in the blockade, waited for what they too knew was coming. Commonwealth submarines.

On the surface, however, the cruiser HMS St. Claire, one of the new Havre Avila class of light cruisers, maintained an alert watch, monitoring through datalinks with the drones and AEW aircraft the positions and bearings of the Northfordians. Along with five other light cruisers, her cruiser squadron reinforced two frigate squadrons, twenty-four ships, three corvette squadrons of twenty-four ships, and two destroyer flotillas of twenty-six ships.

Elsewhere along the line, other NATO forces maintained similar watches. But for Rear Admiral Douglas Eads, he could not count on their support, and so wished that he had even one fleet carrier. As it was, one light carrier squadron meant only three carriers equipped with A/S helicopters and V/STOL fighters. Elsewise, his command depended upon the screening and area-wide defences of his cruisers and AAW frigates. His only struck of luck was the speed with which the Northfordians were attempting to head north.

Beneath the surface, the reason for Eads' breath of relief was the HMS Opprobrium, one of twelve O-class diesel-electrics operating in the shallower depths of the southern strait, where the ocean floor began to rise to the surface. Here, the larger S and C class submarines would be of little use, their larger dimensions making them unfit for the requisite manoeuvrability. As the Northfordian destroyers and frigates headed north at full speed, they provided excellent acoustic targets.

Although twelve submarines were part of the force, four were with Eads' group in the north, refueling from tenders while another four were in transit, effectively between the Opprobrium and the surface-action group, effectively out of the combat zone for the time being. That left the Opprobrium and three other O-class submarines to launch torpedoes.

Flooding their four forward tubes, they remained still and silent, their air-independent-propulsion systems most effective at low speeds. As they neared, each let four Mako anti-ship torpedoes swim out instead of firing and creating more noise than desired. For while at high-speed the chance of detection was reduced, the Oceanian submarine commanders each did not want to tempt fate more than was necessary. As the surface ships approached, the torpedoes, designed to break the back of escorts, would kick in after locking on to the massive wake and acoustic signature of the roaring engine plants.

Within the patrol submarines, the crews diligently closed and reloaded their tubes, making ready their next shots.

my apologies if i haven't responded sufficiently to everyone, i'm swamped at work the next two days, but i'll try to keep up to speed and then have another semi-detailed post by week's end.

Strobovia Strait
HIQMS FUHIMOFUSHI
13th July

By now intercepting the Scandavian missiles was something of a chore, if not a deadly one that could turn sour if not attended to properly. The cycle was the same, but losses were mounting from the missiles, as already fourty two two destroyers, four Mogamis and six Counties and a light carrier had fallen prey to the four Scandavian missile assaults.

Strobovia Strait
HIQMS YAMISHAZI
13th July

"What the fuck is that?" the RADAR officer grunted. The Captain was already looking over the RADAR screen and sipping some tea. He had heard that NATO was on the run on the Strobovian Strait and the battle would be over soon. Actually, he had heard the war was going to be over by christmas. Captain Harumo didn't doubt that.

"Fuck." The Captain's eyes widened. "Have they fucking nuked us?"

"I don't know sir. It looks like it."

The Captain grimaced. Shit could get a lot more serious. It was likely the rest of the fleet had picked these up too. "XO, put the ship on NBC alert. Now lets get down to dealing with these."

The coordinated battle network put the ships RADARs on alert, and the large and supposed nuclear warheads had been picked up on re-entry. Very soon the SA-16 AMBROSE missiles, with such success agains the Khans, would again be used against the Midlonian ICASM with varying effect. As soon as they came in range, the first wave of SA-16s fired, and the reloading pattern began again quickly while the VLS of the Mogami's began to fire off. Plenty of attacks had been beaten off and they still had plenty of missiles left. Just under six thousand SA-16s were slicing through the air towards the Midlonian MIRVs and as soon as they impacted, another six thousand were on the way as well as various numbers of SA-15s. Before impact, another wave of SA-16s were just fired before CIWS and RAM came into play. The Midlonian missiles, like the Allanean ones and the Cravanian ones before them, were knocked out the sky. However, the sheer number of Midlonian missiles meant more were going to get through than expected. Thirty slugs penetrated the air defence and broke through to their targets. The first was the Couraegous class battleship Royal Oak.

Twelve of the slugs sliced into the decks of the battleship, penetrating throughout the ship. Ripping apart the starboard DP gun magazines, a gigantic explosion followed, with thick smoke and raging fires the result of a magazine explosion. A visible hole throughout the ship could be seen. Heavy damage was inflicted to the Royal Oak and four CVLs were sunk as a result of the Midlonian bombardment.

Strobovia Strait
HIQMS STAMFORD RAFFLES
13th July

Retaliation was the name of the game, and it would be done in a manner with enough force to break the Midlonian hopes of stopping the Questarians rolling through the Strait. Though many of the missiles had been used on the Cravanian ship the Air Armada of bombers had just returned back and was ready to go again with reinforcements from the rest of the carriers. To interdict the Midlonian Armada in the Strobovian Strait before it was reinforced, over four thousand fighters from ten carriers and two thousand bombers from another ten carriers (carriers were seperated out into strike, fighter, and CAP priority, though they could do each equally) to stream towards the Midlonian fleet. The bombers would travel at mid altitude until they came within 300km of the fleet then they would seaskim to launch their missiles before pulling out. The fighters covered the bombers so that any attacks would have to go through groups of fighters. Each of the bombers were equipped with three AS-29 anti shipping missiles with extra boosters to boost their attack range, following the disastrous attack on the Cravanian fleet. They were covered by thirty UAVs launched from various ships.

Against the remaining Cravanian carriers around Carpathium, the County class cruisers fired up their missiles for one last strike with 500 SS-X-38 missiles streaming towards the Cravanian fleet off Carpathium. The four carriers around the Hood where attacked with 5,000 SS-X-38s from Force D before silence finally dawned over the task group.

Strobovia Strait
Force E
13th July

Force E had been moving up to reinforce Force D sine the beginning of the conflict and in the afternoon it wasn't long behind Force D after several hours of sailing at high speed. Force D, while only taking minimal losses in comparison to the NATO forces in the area, was running low on munitions and its formation was not meant to do full fleet battle as was neccesary. Force D had done its job but would now only play a secondary role, though its carrier fleet dwarfed that of Force E so Force D would be providing the air cover for the battle ahead. Force D had broken the back of the NATO naval defences, with their submarines, in the western Strobovian Strait, so now it was time for Force E to move up and assist Force D in doing battle with the large Scandavian fleet.

Force E was more cruiser based with lots of well picketed cruisers; specifically Mogamis and the new Takao Class, packing large numbers of heavy anti shipping missiles, particular the new SS-35 and SS-X-38. Submarine reserves began flooding into the Strait from Azahan and Northford bases and from the Homeland itself, bolstering the massive numbers of submarines alreay in the strait and refreshing those falling back to re-arm. Perhaps more importantly, more aircraft from the mainland were ferried to CVLs in Force E and then hopped over to carriers in Force D: losses had been disastrous and command had been forced to accept the loss, with over 250 fighter planes and 150 bombers downed by the Cravanian Airforce.

Strobovia Strait
799th Submarine Squadron
SGNS.7829
13th July

"Hey! Jim! Read this!" The XO came into the officers mess, grinning, as Captain Michaels finished his dinner. Wiping his hands down over the cloth at 500 metres underwater, Michaels took the piece of paper and read it.

"Two carriers sunk. One kill credited to SGNS.7829, one kill credited to SGNS.7830. Congratulations. Expect personal medals from the King when back in Blighty."

Michaels blinked. Fuck!

Strobovia Strait
109th Submarine Squadron
SGNS.312
13th July

"Sir, orders from HQ. Some Oceanian carriers to target." The SSGN had just popped up for its orders and was sending them to the rest of the squadron. The other squadrons too had their orders and they were clear: inflict more damage on the Oceanian carriers. The surface fleet was busy and didn't want to risk over-extending its carrier launch and return capacity so the submarines would have to whittle down the Oceanian numbers. There weren't anywhere near enough missiles to attack the escorts, so capital ships would have to be targeted from the seven submarine squadrons currently tasked orders to engage the Oceanian fleet. The typical pattern was followed and within time just over a thousand QS-N-62s were bearing down on the Oceanian fleet, a true test of air defence.

[I thought that was a bit boring and lame, so here's something else more interesting.]

Strobovia Strait
118th Submarine Squadron
SGNS.404
13th July

Captain Eromoto bit his lip. It was time to pop up for orders, but some navigation errors had brought them too near to the Oceanian fleet. He guessed they were at least 50 kilometres away, but didn't dare check with SONAR in case he was wrong. He cursed his idiocy. Failing to check in for orders every twenty minutes could easily be seen as cowardice but he was far too low down to try the satellite system and surfacing may bring the attention of Oceanian helicopters. "God damnit." he said outloud.

"Sir. We need to act soon." the XO warned. "If we don't move up we may miss the signals."

"Still, any idea how far we are from passive?"

"Nope. Somethings fucked with the SONAR, not sure what. Its just stopped working. We're going to have to move up for orders sir." The XO was just as worried as the Captain.

"Then bring us up." Eromoto said it quickly to get it out of his mouth unless he had other ideas. Like defecting. He quickly shook them from his head and gave navigational orders to surface. Soon, the Kurakaze class submarine broke the waters, the cold but calm seas of the Strobovian Strait flushing around the submarines deck. Eromoto began to shake visibly as he popped his head out from the conning tower. He was never much of a strong man and had joined the submarine service because he put "not bothered" on the service selection form. He could see the long line of the Oceanian fleet just on the kilometre and could see the buzzing of a helicopter coming right for his submarine.

"FUCK. Captain to bridge, captain to bridge, start evasive maenvoures quickly. "

He now realised why some of the larger SSBNs carried handheld SAMs in their armouries and thought it wasn't such a bad idea. If those orders weren't coming in soon, he was well and truly dead. The helicopter was coming closer and had obviously detected him. Eromoto closed the hatch and ran back down into the submarine, almost bumping into his XO in the corridor. "Sir, we've got orders."

"Good, now dive, emergency dive, get us the hell out of here!" he said as he submarine, lone from its squadron, began to dive for dear life only 40 kilometres from the Oceanian fleet.

In the recorded histories of the conflicts in this world, you will find many texts containing the word “epic”. Such a word has all but lost its meaning amidst the constant state of war that always, at least at point or location, will exist somewhere on our planet. You will have read nigh-poetic tales of families torn apart by war, with daughters, mothers and wives standing by a doorway, waiting for the son, the father and husband that was never meant to return home. This is one of those kind of recounts, except the amount of death that will ensue in what is, tragically, a pointless war will do the word “epic” justice. Another fitting word to describe the coming war for not only the soldiers, but for the very people of the Commonwealth and her enemies is “tragic”.

When historians would look back on this war, they would observe the communiqué the Kriegos administration had dispatched to the Kahanistanis with a mix of awe disgust and black humour.

To Whom It May Concern in Kahanistan & Kahanistani Protectorate Zone,

We are at war. This is all.

Yours Sincerely,

Mr. Roger Tominson
Bureaucrat of the Ministry of Defence


Northern Kriegorgrad,
13th July 1951 Questarian Calendar

“Roger that suh…yes…this for real? …Aye, got it suh. God save the King.”

Barry set the red phone down and looked to his compatriots in the din of the missile control centre. A dozen faces looked back at him. Some thin, some wide, all with the accepting expression that a nation of those battered into the mould of war imprints on its citizens. The low-hum of computer systems and the beep of diagnostic systems reached Lieutenant Barry Hedges’ ears.

“We got the word lads. And the word is DUTY.”

The men nodded and turned around in their chairs to face the console, and the sound of rapid typing battled with the hums of the room. Barry bit his lips as he saw the men in the room go about their work. This would be the first real war that Kriegorgrad had been drawn into under its new regime of liberty and freedom, and it looked like it was going to be a nasty one. Barry knew that. Barry also knew that in times of war, the quickest way to bring about their end was to pound the opposition into the ground, just as his father, Daniel Hedges, had always said. He closed his eyes a minute and wished for the thousandth time that the military would relax its “no smoking on missile sites” policy. Also, he’d forgotten to water his garden and cut the lawn before he was called up. Bugger.

And with that, all across the North of Kriegorgrad, 25,000 intercontinental cruise missiles erupted out of their housing with smoke and fire. A stunning spectacle that almost cheekily hinted at what the missiles would inflict upon the neighbour Kriegos living on the border had regularly exchanged commodities and friendly words with. The missiles just sent off on their excursion had one EW missile in every group of ten ICCMs, and which would hopefully play havoc with the systems trying to shoot down the missiles. Over the border thousands upon thousands of missiles covered the sky in smoke as they made their way towards their targets: railways, highways and bridges (all sizes) deep inside the country, and airfields, military hospitals, munitions depots & dumps wherever they could be targeted.

Over Kahanistani Airspace
13th July 1951 Questarian Calendar

“Okay chaps this is Fox-Lead, this is a mass offensive, and it’s our job to see that our good chums in the big birds we call bombers don’t go down in flames and to cover their retreat. So soon as you chaps spot bolshies, you know what to do! God bless and God save the King!”

The oh-so bourgeois accent of Jerry Mosser, the Questarian chap leading the squadron, echoed through the helmets of his squadron, and quick, gruff grunts and confirmations flooded his helmet from the somewhat less civilized Kriegos. The sight was glorious for the Kriegos on the ground a few minutes earlier. The sky overhead trembled as these eagles of steel swooped overhead in the early morning sun in their formation…almost like ducks migrating with the seasons. Except these particularly birds weren’t migrating towards heat, no, they were bringing it with them. All along the border, about 20,000 aircraft, 5,000 of which were bombers equipped with cruise missiles to attack airfields, military bases, fortifications and infrastructure about 450 kilometres ahead of the imminent Kriegos advance.

And when the bombers were so in range of their targets, 15,000 cruise missiles left the cold embrace of their parent carriers, and streaked for their targets. The Kahanistani protectorate quaked as the volume roar of missiles drowned out the birds and the wind, and nature itself fell mute and modest in the presence of man’s indomitable desire to do harm on his fellow man. Against such evil, morally neutral nature stood no chance.

Just South of the Kahanistan-Kriegos Border…all along the border
13th July 1951 Questarian Calendar

”Did they beat the drum slowly,
Did they play the fife lowly,
Did they sound the death-march,
As they lowered you down?”

The green fields of Northern Kriegorgrad were harbour to an innumerable amount of men and materiel. Well, not quite innumerable. Ten army groups, each with a million fighting men, formed into pairs. Army Group I was paired with Army Group II, III with IX and so on. Within each army group were 10,000 tanks, 500,000 (approximately) infantry on foot, and the rest of the Army Group a smattering of mechanized and motorised infantry, as well as artillery. And it was this nigh immeasurable force of about ten million men that waited for the beginning of a war that would doubtless leave millions dead, and give the poets something to lament about for a good few years until the stupidity of humanity repeated itself in an equally tragic war.

Never before had Kriegorgrad under its new freedom been called up to sacrifice for that same freedom. Never before had the men and women of Kriegorgrad had to set their newfound freedom aside, and put on the emotional army that would allow men to set off to war, confident in the hopeful knowledge that they’d live to see next spring, when their children first went to school, when their children left school, or when their children got married. The men on foot stood in stiff rows, modern uniforms and Lee-Nordenfeldt rifles (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12763636&postcount=5) standing proudly against the sky that the bombers were filling, returning from their mission. Timothy Baker (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12793747&postcount=4) thought to himself how lucky he was that he wasn’t a footslogger, got to be the first in, and he “couldn’t be arsed with no walking”, as his twin had always said when he persuaded him to sign up for the mechanized infantry. He bit his lip underneath a DPM helmet and clutched his rifle close. Casting a look about the armoured personnel carrier, his eyes came into contact with those of his twin brother’s. Thomas Baker looked back. He didn’t smile, and the pair always gave each other cheeky grins. All throughout school he and his brother had given a grin when the other was about to do something that would doubtless piss off the teacher but draw amusement from the students. And that was only two months ago.

Tim felt completely disembodied from the situation he had somehow found himself in. It was surreal. He was sixteen, he wasn’t even allowed to drive yet, he had to wait till 17 for that, but he was allowed to go and die for his country. Strange thought. His two older brothers Robert and James were away elsewhere in the division. Robert was a corporal, and James was a private, just like Tim and Tom. Bringing his Chorka free of its tempered deer hide leather sheath, the beast of a knife similar to a Nepalese ‘Kukri’ (http://www.diggerhistory.info/images/weapons-australian/kukri.jpg ) glinted innocently in the dim light of the APC, not willing to lend its menacing nature to Tim’s conscious. The blade was keen to let Timothy know that whatever killing he did with that blade was on his hands, not the knife’s. The lad felt a little uncertain. But God, King and Country!

And the sound. He heard it, even inside the tin-can of the APC, heard it. The dull thumps, the distant booms and the reverberations that caused the ground to shudder ever so slightly. Just as Tim sat in this somewhat chilly armoured vehicle in the stunning, but simple Kriegos countryside, hell on earth was just being unleashed to his North. The thought was strange. Already, a lot of what Tim had experienced inside his head was how strange the situation was. He remembered his mum telling him how she met a bloke from the Protectorate Zone who moved Krieg, and how they got on brilliantly and were good friends until the chap had to return home to attend to family issues. Real strange.

Then it began. The beginning of the end. Even from inside the tin can, Tim could hear the shouts that meant something was happening, the shouting over the forest of APCs and tanks. The Type-68 Questarian designed battle tank engine’s kicked into life, the motors grumbled at their job of pulling such beings of leviathan weight about, but as with the working class Kriegos that manned them, they did so with little complaint beyond the meaningless grunt of displeasure. The APCs followed suit. But, nothing moved. Not yet. The only sounds that dared challenge the silence were engines, the crump of munitions detonating in the distance, and the hushed ragged breath from the men dragged into this cataclysmic horror. Then it came. The final speech with the final codeword. From every-speaker, it boomed.

”BRAVE MEN OF KRIEGORGRAD, YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN FOR THIS GREAT CRUSADE BECAUSE YOU ARE AMONG THE BEST SOLDIERS ON THE PLANET. NO OTHER PEOPLE HAS YOUR COURAGE, YOUR VALOUR, AND YOUR PRIDE. YOU WILL NOT FAIL, FOR IT IS NOT THE KRIEGOS WAY TO FAIL. I KNOW YOU WILL DO YOUR FOREFATHERS PROUD, AND WHEN YOUR GRANDCHILDREN ASK YOU, “PA-PA, WHAT DID YOU DO IN THE GREAT WAR?” YOU CAN LOOK AT THEM SQUARE IN THE EYE, AND SAY “I FOUGHT FOR LIBERTY”. I HAVE THE UTMOST FAITH IN YOU. YOUR PEOPLE HAVE THE UTMOST FAITH IN YOU. OUR PRAYERS, BRAVE SOLDIERS OF LIBERTY, MARCH WITH YOU. GOD BLESS, AND GOD SAVE THE KING. THE WORD, TODAY, IS…”

Almost immediately, the ground began to tremble, and silently but without any quietness about them, over 10 million Kriegos men advanced into Kahanistan’s Protectorate Zone, be it in tank, armoured personnel carrier, truck, foot or in one of the 20,000 FA15 fighters or the 5,000 D3A1 close air support craft to aid in the attack in the form of bunker-busters, laser-guided bombs and anti-tank missiles. Tim inhaled and exhaled rapidly, as the last word of the speech, the code-word, ran through his mind like himself in the sights of a Kahanistani rifle.

“…SACRIFICE.”

Carpanthium, Haven
"Sir, we've got some issues here..."

"What, what happened?"

"look at the screen," The Sergeant said.

"Shit... where'd they all go?"

"Well... about 7,000 of them just flew harmlessly over the Questerian fleet."

"and the other five hundred?"

"well sir... they went and took out some suicide patrol of the Questerian's... three martime patrol ships..."

"Wow... there goes our division's Bonus this year..."

"Yeah, that's not it, look at the khans."

"Fuck... there goes our bonuses for the next decade and a half."

"Well... maybe not, check these sat photos." the sergeant said while changing his monitor to several pictures of an ocean covered with metallic colored stuff and lots of red.

"Wow, that looks like a Questerian sub."

"Sir, I think that was a school of whales that surfaced for some air, unless said Questarian subs were packed with a few hundred tons of cows and were surfaced."

"That's probably the most expensive way of getting whale blubber then..."

"If there's any left after those bombs went off... Sir." He continued, "Sir, Permission to speak Freely?"

"Go ahead..."

"Someone seriously fucked up, cause now quite a bit of the stores on Northland will be FUBAR considering that Khans can't be air launched, so they'll just be sitting there waiting to get their asses blown to hell by some lucky missile."

"Good point Sarge, I'll call it in, and blame it on the flyboys."

"Very good Choice Colonel."

Mount Maul, Illior

"Madam Chairwoman?"

"Yes Marshall?"

"We've had a bit of an incident outside of Carpanthium..."

"What, have the slants used NBC weapons?"

"Not really Ma'am..."

"Well, spit it out man, say what you will."

"Well... we fucked up big. We tried air launching 500 Khans, and we volleyed off 7500 AAMs."

Erika began to laugh, "Wow... who was the idiot that even considered those fat fuckers air launchable?"

"Well Ma'am, it was you."

Erika suddenly turned a very very deep shade of red. "Oh Kay then, let's move on, any upsides to our SNAFU?"

"Well... we thought we took out a wolf pack of Questerian or Northfordian subs..."

"Great!"

"Not really, they just obliterated a school of whales."

"Oh, dear me, PETA's been on my ass these days... let's not let this get out, shall we?"

"Agreed Ma'am."

"What about the Long ranged air to airs?"

"Um... we think one took some type of bird into its engine at Mach three, and that wasn't pretty for said missile, and it kinda exploded in the middle of a flock of what we thought was gulls. Close to 7,000 others just skimmed over the Questerian and Cravanian fleets harmlessly."

"And the other Five hundred?"

"Well... they kinda found a patrol of three bombers..."

"What a fucking waste..."

"Yes'm."

"Airlift another five hundred Khans to Northland, and another 10,000 AAM-113s, and get ALL the khans into the ground ASAP."

"Yes Ma'am,"

"Now, update me on the situation in the Strob Strait."


Northland

"HURRY THE FUCK UP YOU SLOW PIECES OF SHIT! WE GOT ANOTHER THREE THOUSAND WE GOTTA GET SET UP AND FAST!" a Colonel was yelling at his engineering brigade as they began erecting makeshift launch sites for the previously thought to be air launchable Khans. "WHO KNOWS WHEN THOSE SLANT BASTARDS WILL BE ATTACKING US." His cell phone rang, and he began speaking into it, "Yes sir... Wilco... ASAP sir... Right away sir... Well sir... Yes sir..." He closed the phone and began yelling again, "WHAT IN FUCKS NAME ARE YOU STARING AT CORPORAL? GET YOUR ASS BACK TO WORK THIS FUCKING INSTANT!".

The Kahanistanian generals had not defended the Kriegos border at all, having expected the attack to come through Northford. The General Staff had expected a Northfordian attack, and so that border had been burned barren and lined with minefields, missile batteries, dragon's teeth, hidden pits, etc., and defended by over 600,000 troops.

Many of the anti-missile systems, yet to be activated, were incinerated before even turning on and detecting the missile swarm. Over a third of all military bases within three hundred kilometers of the southern border were completely obliterated due to the sheer volume of the missile strike, and three-quarters had sustained at least moderate damage.

However, the air force was relatively unaffected; almost all of Kahanistan's military airfields were underground, protected from snooping satellites. The majority of the airfields struck fell into two categories; decoys... and civilian.

An emergency Senate meeting as tensions in Haven grew had luckily declared a senatus consultum ultimum - an emergency decree of the Senate, to take effect should war break out. Renowned but controversial general Abdullah Hassan al-Ghazi, who had returned to Kahanistan shortly before the war, was appointed Supreme General of the Republic - essentially a military dictator who would hold power for three months or until the end of the war. The government left aboard a stealthed transport so as not to interfere with the new military regime in Kahanistan, and a temporary Cabinet was to be appointed from the General Staff to advise the Supreme General.

The view among the people was generally one of outrage; the average Kahanistanian did not give a rat's arse about the Northfordians or Kriegos. They certainly did not want to side openly with Gholgoth, with the exception of a few Nationalists who wanted Kahanistan to repay its debt of honour to the Allaneans, or to destroy Doomingsland. To be attacked out of the blue, with no attempt at diplomacy, angered the average civilian as much as the average soldier.

---

Official Statement from the Free Havenic Republic of Kahanistan
Ministry of Defense

http://www.nationstates.net/images/flags/uploads/kahanistan.jpg

The Questarian Commonwealth espouses the claim (http://www.forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=518393) that it fights against state tyranny, and defends liberty and freedom from the forces of Communism and Fascism.

We see now that the Questarian Commonwealth are LIARS. The Free Havenic Republic of Kahanistan has been attacked without any provocation whatsoever by the Commonwealth forces. We are not a tyrannical state by any definition of the term, and are not, and never have been, Communist. At worst we are a socialist democracy.

Some may call me a fascist for my views regarding the rebuilding of our nation, and many of you undoubtedly believe I am mad. After all, I was a member of the Fascist Party of Kahanistan prior to its assimilation into the Nationalist Party. But Kahanistanian Fascism emphasises the nationalistic aspects of fascism, the glory of our nation and remembrance of the terrible things that repressive regimes have done to us. We are not a racist organisation; we have whites, blacks, Jews, and other ethnicities in our party; I myself am an Arab.

I call upon all true, freedom-loving, nation-loving people of Kahanistan to stand up for this great nation, and to fight in her defence. This war is not about ideology; rather, it is about land-grabbing imperialism, and it is a slap in the face to those who have made Kahanistan strong and independent.

With this naked display of aggression against a neutral nation, the Republic declares its willingness to join the Gholgoth - NATO bloc. Not only will we defend our nation, but we will also repay our debt of honour to the United States of Allanea, who has fought for us many times and we have yet to lift a finger.

Defend Kahanistan. By doing so, we not only tie down millions of Questarian Commonwealth brainwashed slave soldiers to be slaughtered by Gholgoth, but we also protect our nation, our way of life, and our freedom. We also ease the burden on our Allanean ally, who is attacked by cowards from Questers as we speak.

May God Bless Allanea.

And may God Bless Kahanistan.

Signed,
General Abdullah Hassan al-Ghazi,
Supreme General of the Republic

OOC summary (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12890406&postcount=202)

In Azaha
13th July

“Marshal, there is a problem.” - Colonel Tarkin spoke. - “Our skirmishers have gotten hit by ATGM fire in sectors Delta and Gamma. Sattelite reconnaissance and FLIR imagery confirms the existance of a wide strip of scattered bunkers and dug-outs about ten to twenty kilometers wide between us and the enemy positions. We were forced to stop our advance, lest we get shot up by them.”

“Enemy positions? You imply that the twenty klicks' worth of fucking bunkers is not our main problem, Colonel?”

“This is exactly the situation, Marshal White.”

“Fucking great. Why do I always get the shit appointments? Why?”

“I do not know, Marshal White. Perhaps it is because it's in shitholes like this we need you special skills and talents most?” - Tarkin was smiling.

“Aw well. In any case, radio Mainland. I want them to reinforce us. Take off five airborne divisions, I know they can do so.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He whispered something to a clerk, who immediately began to type frenziedly on his computer. Minutes later, the reply came back.

“They're scrambling the aircraft now, Sir.”

“Good. Speaking of aircraft... let them scramble a dozen S-1000s from the Mainland and from Roanoke. They should be here within about seven hours... and in the meanwhile... let us begin our jolly good fun, should we not?”

“What do you mean?”

Marshal Jeremy White grabbed a microphone.

“At my command! All Samson drivers, begin to the front!”

With the roar of engines, 12,000 TR29 heavy battle tanks moved in to positions that were hastily dug for them by support. Behind them, trench diggers and excavators were already digging temporary positions for the lighter tanks. But for now, only the TR29s could be part of Marshal White's party. Capable of firing for a range of 30 kilometers, they formed a line before the other Allanean formations.

“Raise cannon to position! Ready for fire! Aaand incoming airsupport!”

Above the aircraft, flying at the highest altitude they could manage, came the aircraft again – the same as used before, but now rearmed - Black Mariah VTOLs, Boneharvester helicopters, E78K gunships, SU-25-AL Flying Tux aircraft. They attacked the enemy bunkers and emplacements from stand-off-range – about twenty kilometers away, safe under the Allanean SAM umbrella – with gliding cluster bombs and HALON munitions. As between them, they were capable of carrying about 60,000 tons of bombs, the results would be quite spectacular.

Simultaneously with that, 25 S-1000 bombers flew at ultra-high altitudes, at Mach 2, over the Azahan lines. They had no interest in the enemy bunkers and dug-outs, and were too high to be targeted by manportable SAMs or flak. As a matter of fact, the pilots were completely unable to precisely target anything from this altitude and speed. But when their FLIR equipment detected the enemy armor on the ground, it did what the Linux-operating targetting software told it to do.

With exact precision, the bombers dropped out their payloads – cluster bombs with self-guiding anti-armor submunitions. Every S-1000 carried 20 Allanean Arms “Joshua” 1000-pound cluster bombs. Every bomb had 20 submunitions.

But that was not the most important thing that the program did. “FireTux”, the Air Force's beloved open-source targeting software, immediately transferred it's information about the location of the targets to MilNet.

Seconds later, the Samsons were clear to fire. The tankers merely needed to confirm the launch clearance, and the tanks' fire control system did it all for them. By the time the smoke f the 10,000 anti-armor submunitions would have hit the ground cleared, the Hopeworthy cannon would have delivered nine 140mm guided shells each – or, in this case, 108,000 shells. Due to the high trajectory, the shells would have a high likelihood of impacting the top, rather then the front, of the enemy tanks – their most vulnerable spot.

But this was not even the most hideous part of the Allanean plan.

Evening of the same day

It was timed with all the precision that the Allanean Strategic Command was capable of.. In fact, some of the bombers were ordered to take a longer, slower path to the target. But now their efforts would be rewarded. They would arrive during the time of the sunset prayer of the Azahan muslims, when all the believing men were in their mosques.

There were not many bombers in the first wave. Only 50 S-1000 bombers, some from thte Allanean mainland, some from Roanoke Island. But between them, they carried 1,450 I-5 3.4 ton guided cluster bombs. (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=11988115&postcount=1685)

Their automated fire control systems released the bombs as they arrived at a point 75 miles away from the enemy shore. Seconds later, the prayers of the Azahans would be interrupted by hundreds of explosions and millions of shrapnel fragments.

And it was not all. Arriving from Yurka-City and Roanoke Island respectively came 50 Sariel bombers and 500 of their little brothers, the Kestril (http://z6.invisionfree.com/International_Mall/index.php?showtopic=2160&view=findpost&p=1581937) bombers. The Kestril was, though smaller then the Sariel, almost as stealthy (by the time your RADAR could detect a Kestril, the false positives would begin to detect grains of sand). These did not use gliding bombs. They didn't need to. All they had to do was to depose 6,600 tons of incendiary bombs and bomblets, ranging in weight from 50 to 1000 pounds, upon the injured city.

[Just a note, Matt and I have previously agreed upon the results of his kinetic attack upon my Aerospace Force Bases in Aurora.]


Aurora

The IAF made a habit of watching satellites in geostationary orbit over Haven. With the weaponization of space, somebody parking a strike or ABM satellite where it could be used against Imperial interests was cause for many sleepless night among some planners. Thus, when the Questarian satellites broke from their geostationary orbit over Haven to intersect Auroran space, alerts were immediately sounded and firing sequences for the surface-to-orbit missiles were initiated. While the Imperial military's preferred method of shooting down things in the air and in orbit (shoot-shoot-shoot-look) all but guaranteed a kill, for orbital targets the look part of the equation took quite some time. Thus, only three of the five satellites were shot down before they began dispensing their loads. While the rods themselves were smaller than the Imperial versions, they still did a tremendous amount of damage when they impacted; the control towers for the bombers of both bases were obliterated and the runways for the bombers were damaged badly enough that they wouldn't be operational for a week. It was argued that the bombers could taxi to the transport aircraft runways and launch from there, which was perfectly true, but the planners decided to drop the continuous bombardment to prepare for something a bit harder-hitting.

The first leg of that strategy would involve unleashing the ICCMs that had previously been kept in reserve. All 54 of the SGM-108 ICCMs in Aurora were launched at a rate of one per second against the Force D aircraft carries in the Strobovian Strait. The missiles were all programmed to go over the CVNs if they were available, but otherwise light carriers would have to do.


5,000km From Strobovian Line

The first air attacks against the IQN would come just as they started to believe the Strobovian Line had been broken. In fact, they would be timed to coincide with the ICCM strikes being launched from Aurora, so that both groups of missiles arrived roughly simultaneously. Two squadrons of interceptors were assigned to provide escort to the navalized A-102C attack aircraft, each of which was loaded down with a AGM-503. The strike group's assigned task was to launch from their carriers, fly out 1,400km in the general direction of the Strobovian Line, launch their payload, and return home to do it again. All around it was a boring task for the pilots and would continue to be until the range closed to something the Questarian pilots could actually respond to.

Southern Fleet Command

“Hit their carrier-force again, double the missile-compliment.” Letts spoke sharply as he crumpled up the confirmation notice he had received.

“Sir.” nodded the aid who withdrew into the shadows of the command centre.

“Have the Armada’s go to all out with their fighter compliments and knock down any air attacks. They honestly think they can move such a large body of aircraft without a sat seeing them? Especially one with a live feed… I mean come on.” Letts muttered to himself.

Special Submarine Group 10, Strob Strait.

“Time to play boys and girls!” yelled the Captain of the Avalanche one of around 6 Midlonian Submarine Carriers currently deployed to the Strobovian Strait. It would certainly scare some of the Questarians, carriers rising from the deep sending aircraft up into the air rapidly.

“Surface Surface Surface!” yelled Tannoys all over the ships, pilots already in their aircraft finalized their straps and gave a thumps up. Doors, still dripping with water shuddered open showing the daylight of the early morning followed by the slamming “Whoosh” of ramps throwing the planes into the air.

In all an additional 70 aircraft were added to the fight against the Questarian Aerial Armada.

These were complimented by the aircraft being put up by the Carriers of the 35th Armada.

It was a case that the Questarians simply weren’t probably in range, the Midlonian Armada wasn't really in definitive range of the Questarian naval aircraft, they'd be pushed to their limit as the Midlonians were sitting at near their missile-range limit against the Northfordians themselves.

Whilst steaming towards the Strobovian Line it was possible that the Questarian Aircraft would never be able to return due to fuel range of their aircraft versus the aircraft which had their bases in the Carriers of the Midlonian Armada attacking the Northfordian fleet.

But it was still vital to ensure none decided to make a suicidal one-way trip.


OOC: Sorry it’s short, want to write more but I feel I’ll be left behind and my brain isn’t majorly creative right now. Treat it as a slight place-holder.

OOC: Sorry, but I had to add this, I forgot about this entirely.

IC:

Aboard USS Delta, an Allanean submarine sitting in it's pen at the Cloyster Coast

“All troops, this is Black Alert. You are to engage your positions and leave the pen, I repeat, leave the pen.”

The large, black vessel began to move out. Fifty miles away, it's sister ship, the USS Violent left it's pen as well. So did it's sister ships – Furious, Ferocious, Destructive. They picked off immediately, and went off at top speed away from the shore. Three hours later, they were outside Allanea's territorial waters. Then they received their second message.

“Comrades. Freemen. Allanea.

This is President Goldwasser speaking. I would like you to know that, as we speak, the foul Kriegos fascists are invading Kahanistan. As far as we are aware, they intend to have a repeat of the Kahanistani genocide, to inflict the same horrors on Kahanistan as the Doomani scum. This is not to be allowed.

I hereby authorize Fieldmarshal Alexander Kazansky to elevate the situation to a Delta Zeta Four level”

And then Kazansky's voice was heard:

Greetings, soldiers.

As President Goldwasser already told you, you will be given a grave mission. You must prevent the destruction of Kahanistan. We are sworn upon the Altar of Liberty – not a second Najaster, not now, not ever! And here is my word to you, soldiers. You will be the executors of that oath.

Today, you will strike a mighty blow against the enemies of Our Queen. You will sing the glory of her beauty with your SLBMs, you will make her honor known with your Justice. You will praise her by the sound of your engine motors, by the ring of your MIRV's, by the sound of the explosions as they strike down her foes.

I am feeding your computers target information about the second-largest and third-largest city of Kriegorgrad. The 'Violent' and 'Ferocious' shall target these cities with 20 SLBMs each, or 200 warheads each, carrying the airborne modification of ebolavirus zaire that we encountered in the Doomani war.. This should be enough to ensure at least one warhead gets through, but in case their ABM is really powerful, we have other options, too. 'Destructive' and 'Furious' are only part of our backup plan.

This is all, troops. You are now Delta, Zeta, Four clear. Fire your rockets. I want you to make Her Majesty proud of us all.

May God bless you all.

May God Allanea.

And may God bless Kahanistan.”

Once the bombs hit, Kriegorgrad would receive a short message:

We really, but really suggest you back out of this war.

His Imperial Majesty's Cravanian Ship Espada del Imperio
200km behind the Strobovian Line

The four carriers which had accompanied the Espada over from Dresdon, the Prosperity, Deliverance, Candor, and Sovereignty steamed with escorts surrounding themselves as they moved through the open seas. The crippled Espada, all crew save for those volunteers who stayed behind to pull her back into port having been evacuated to the escorts, crawled back to Aurora at a mere four knots. While the Candor and Sovereignty moved away from the Espada with escorts in tow to help in reinforcing the Strobovian line with further air cover, the Prosperity and Deliverance continued to move with the Espada, covering it on its long journey back to a friendly port.

Candor and Sovereignty were sixty kilometers out from the crippled ship when they detected the swarm of missiles headed to their sisterships. They had managed to get far enough away that they had been saved from that bombardment, and assuming they could lay low possible further bombardments. Their sister ships and the Espada were not spared, however, as yet another storm of missiles fell upon them.

*****************

His Imperial Majesty's Cravanian Ship Deliverance
The Bridge

"Skipper, scopes detect upwards of... Dear Christ..."
"What is it?"
"Sir, another wave of missiles... Not nearly as large as the first, but..."

Rear Admiral Peter Quenton looked towards the horizon, gazing at the horde of oncoming missiles which he could not yet see with his eyes.

"We're in the wind. Get our aircraft in the air and off the decks, we haven't much time to spare."
"Aye, sir."

The klaxons' shrill song of despair once again resonated across the flotilla, the CIWS batteries and RAM mounts whistling to life for what would probably not be the last time this war. Although their ammunition was nearly depleted, they would continue to defend their group until the last bullet left the chamber.

After a few minutes most of the aircraft from the two carriers had managed to lift off, when finally the missiles came into range. The RAM mounts sounded off first, not nearly firing in as quick a succession as before when the missiles rained death upon the Espada. This time there were fewer missiles in the air, as well as fewer missiles and bullets in the magazines. Shooting would be much more precise, if that was even possible for a CIWS mount.

As was inevitable, however, the missiles began to break through to their intended targets. The Deliverance kissed the bottom of the Strob that day, while the Prosperity would never again launch a plane as her bridge and upper levels were completely eviscerated by missile fire. The Espada was also hit hard by a second wave of missiles, however even still, in defiance to the Questarians, she remained afloat. She had developed a strong list to port, and had lost almost ten meters worth of freeboard. Top speed had dropped to merely four knots. Her auxiliary bridge had also come online, after the link to the central command and control decks had been severed.

*********************

His Imperial Majesty's Cravanian Ship Espada del Imperio
Command Deck
Aftermath of second missile attack

Admiral Richards could not hear anything other than the ringing in his ears as he regained a sense of where he was. Disoriented, he crawled along by pulling himself by his arms against the floor, seeing as he could not feel his legs at that time. Propping himself up against the central touchscreen table, he sat for a moment while looking around. He was lucky he could not hear, for if he could all he would hear were the screams and cries of the wounded and dying. Two missiles had impacted in the vicinity of the bridge, one above and behind and one directly below.

The scene had turned from one of organized chaos in the heat of battle to one of anarchy in minutes. Fires erupted from bare circuits and blown out screens while those able-bodied men and women who had not succumbed to the shock fought the flames valiantly. Richards, having regained some strength, tried to regain his footing and prop himself back up. Reaching to the top of the table, he pushed himself upwards, putting his weight on his right foot. When attempting to balance, he nearly fell back to the hard floor as he grabbed on for stability. Looking down, the bloody stump which used to be his left ankle stared back at him, tendons and ligaments as well as bone fragments trailing behind him. The cuff of his white pant leg was stained with his crimson life fluid. Appalled at the sight, he instead opted to sit on the table, whose circuits lay long dead after lack of power, and little if any threat of it exploding from under him. Blood dripped out on to the floor as blood continued to rush to his left leg, and thus he laid back on the table, raising his foot above the rest of his body. Soon enough a member of the crew saw the Admiral's predicament, and immediately rushed to his aid, grabbing a first aid kit which had been knocked from the wall during the bombardment. Quickly and tightly tying bandages around the Admiral's ankle, the seaman then reached for a pain killer injector. The Admiral waved him off, instead asking for something to use as a crutch, shouting in the process as his hearing was only just returning to him. The sailor returned with a piece of wood detailing that once adorned the wall. Stuffing extra bandage underneath, the Admiral deemed it fit for service as a support. He rose to his foot, holding the plank underneath his armpit for stability, and walking on his own to get a grasp of the situation. As he wiped sweat, and subsequently blood, from his brow, he watched in horror as crewmembers lay dying, while all other crewmembers could do was look on and pretend to help the injured, comforting them in their final minutes in this world. Richards watched as Chaplain James Montgomery; his unit insignia bearing the crucifix with three rings, denoting him as a Catholic minister; moved quickly about the bridge, offering each sailor whose dogtags bore the "Ca" which stood for Catholic their Last Rites. It was unknown where the other chaplains of the ship were, assuming they had even survived the bombardment, but the only real comfort they could get at this point in time was comfort from their Maker.

As the chaos ensued, Richards walked towards the front of the bridge. The windows had all been broken, shattered glass laying about on the floor with pools of blood, bodies littering the immediate area. Richards turned to the door to the outer deck, walking outside. Smoke billowed into the skies above from several gaping holes in the sides of the superstructure, and it was outside that the ship's list was far more noticable. Flooding had been put under control, though, and the ship continued to steam.

The admiral gazed at the horizon, towards the direction from which the Questarian missiles had come. Finally, his hearing had returned to him, and he could make a coherent statement. His first words?

"Missiles alone can't sink freedom personified, you fucking slants! We'll fight to the last damned man if we have to!"
"Admiral!"
"Yes?", he said, turning to meet his XO. The man's face was covered by streaming blood, the source being a small gash above his eye. "What is it?"
"Sir, we've lost contact with the rest of the ship. Communications lines were severed with the last strike."
"Well put them back up. As long as this ship floats the war ends for none of us!"
"Aye, sir!"

The wind whipped Richards's gray hair as he realised he had lost his hat in the chaos. He cared not, though. He didn't need a hat to enjoy the satisfaction of having cheated death twice and having "stuck it" to the Questarians.

*********************

The remaining aircraft from the Deliverance and Prosperity were diverted to nearby Midlonian territory, and although it was unknown if the area had deep enough ports the Espada made way for the nearest friendly territory it could find. It was a glorious sight, as the battered Espada del Imperio crawled towards the Midlonian coastline, a tattered Cravanian Naval Ensign flapping high above in the wind. The edges of the flag were scorched, however the silhouette of the Falcon in the center had been spared of the hellstorm.

Freedom had endured the fight. And freedom would not go down quietly.


(OOC: Forgive me for grammatical errors and the like, however I'm far too tired to proofread at the moment. If my rambling in that post is incoherent at times, please bear with me for the moment.)

Southern fleet Command

“Sir, the Espada Del Imperio is requesting to dock, along with numerous Cravanian aircraft” spoke an officer quietly.

“What? I thought that ship was dead in the water.” Replied Letts, turning to look in disbelief.

“Apparently not, she’s moving bloody slow and listing like hell though, take a look.” The officer hit the blast shutters on the window, revealing the coastline, and the gigantic Espada was slowly bringing herself into view. Around her were some of her escorts, all mauled in some way or another.

“Jesus Christ…” muttered Letts. “Inform the hospitals around the bay that we’re going to have a lot of full beds, get some of the Ready-To-Build field hospitals up also.”

“Yes Grand Admiral.”

“Find the commander of that vessel and bring him or her to me also. It’s vital we talk.”

Crewfold Bay

“Blaaaaahdy hell she’s big.” Muttered the Helmsman of the large Haven BB Olympia

“She’s also badly mauled, but still afloat. Bloody miracle I say.” muttered the captain. “Welcome her in on the foghorn Helmsman Smythe!”

“Aye aye sah.” replied the helmsman before he hit a button on his control-panel.

The first peal of the fog-horn was soon joined by nearly 200 other ships welcoming in battered and bruised friends.

Freedom still stood tall, and the Espada was becoming testimony to it's inability to be killed by tyranny.

Supreme War Council Chambers, with Southern Fleet Command in attendance

“Put simply the Strob line’s on the verge of collapsing and the 35th Armada is about to be massively mauled, we may as well strike it off as a total loss.” Spoke Letts frankly.

“Why is this?”

“From what we’ve seen it’s the sheer number of ships sir, nearly 3,000 or more in one concentrated place, it’s nearly impossible to smash without a similar number of ships, we simply do not have the materiel to break them as easily as we first thought.”

“What about the Scandavians? Allaneans? The Azazians? With their ships we could probably force them ba-”

“Simply not happening Hafeta.” replied Letts curtly. “The Scandavians seem to be focussing on Aurora, the Allaneans have yet to commit and the Cravanians and Azazians seem to be in almost total disarray, put simply nobody was able to commit enough to the definitive line and it’s pratically in bits, we’d be looking at Questarian ships here at New Birchester within 2 else 3 days, possibly much less.”

“So what on Earth do you propose?”

“Complete withdrawal from the Strobovian Strait, fall back to the Birchester Island chain, it’d at least secure our control of the strait an-”
“ And abandon Southern and South Eastern Haven.” snapped Hafeta. “There’s over a million fighting men in the Cravanian territory, they have to be kept supplied, it’s a port of call for allied vessels, a vital base. Strategically it-”

“Is becoming unteneable, we had this kind of argument before and the result was Operation Dynamo. We can save all the war-ships but not the people. I’m sorry but it’s the only recommendation I can come up with.” argued Letts.

“What if we used stronger weapons against them? Tactical Nuclear weapons or some such?” chimed in Hortley.

“It’d save us some time, but then they’d simply respond in kind whenever they found one of our armadas.” replied Letts shaking his head.

“Put simply unless our allies commit massively to a combined push led either by us or the Scandavians this strait is theirs and we need to withdraw sharpish or face significant forces being blockaded in here at New Birchester.”

“We’ll make some calls to the Scandavians and the Azazians and the Allaneans immediately.” replied the Supreme Commander.

“Thank you, sir.” nodded Letts before his avatar vanished.

While rampaging mobs in Metzuda and other major cities burned down Catholic churches, raped Catholic schoolgirls, and in general protested against the "imperialist Catholic aggression against a secular democracy," the Civil Internal Defence Groups were brought to action in the cities affected by the riots. These paramilitaries were charged solely with the defence of their particular cities and were never deployed outside; they lived as any other civilian until war or civil disorder broke out that threatened the city. Their members ranged from high-school dropouts (rare in Kahanistan) to little old ladies in their 100's who wanted to protect their home and hearth but only drill once a week.

The social unrest was further fueled by the fact that Kahanistan's enemies were perceived as Doomani allies. This outraged Kahanistan's Catholics as well; they were not happy to see their faith painted as a bloodthirsty cult.

About one hundred kilometers south of the capital, a force of 300,000 hastily mobilised troops, roughly 75% reservists, mounted a hasty defence, digging trenches, foxholes, and machine gun nests, laying tank traps and mines, and requisitioning whatever outdated artillery was still in stores; the 210mm Iraqi-built Al-Fao (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Al-Fao) was a favourite that had seen action against the Doomani.

The experienced Republic Marines with them were often the more pushy slave drivers, often hitting reservist trench-diggers over the head with shovels to hurry them - a technical violation of Kahanistan's own military laws, but in time of war law enforcement tended to take a back seat, not only for civilians but also for the military.

They hoped by the time the Kriegos arrived a workable trench formation would be set up that could hold them, at least until some form of peace treaty could be signed - al-Ghazi would never surrender.

Kahanistan
Special Weapons, Operations, Reconnaissance Division
13th July

To support the Kriegos armoured advance into Kahanistan, large numbers of Questarian paras had been assembled under ten Guards Paratroop Divisions. But the SWORD - Special Weapons, Operations, and Reconnaissance Division, the elite of the elite of the Questarian Army, had been deployed also. The five divisions of paratroopers plus a pair of independent colonial brigades amounted to 110,000 troops that would be dropped over Kahanistan in Operation: Ahead Takeover. Operation Ahead was the landing of the 98th paratroop division in front of key bridges and crossroads in front of the Kriegos armoured advance. If the operation went well, the Kriegos tanks would find themselves rolling over key highways and bridges with Questarian paras to meet them. Operation Takeover was the attack on key areas such as power stations, dams, and unhit supply depots, and consisted of five divisions plus a brigade of SWORD troops.

However, Operation Takeover was cancelled at the last moment when the reports of terror in Metzuda against catholics and a new operation was draughted up; Operation Armed Sanctuary. So now the total Operation was called Operation Ahead Armed Sanctuary. Operation Armed was the plan to remove all militant elements and Kahanistan Army units that would not surrender. Operation Sanctuary was the plan to round up as many catholics as possible and find feasible places to provide sanctuary for them until Kriegos units got into the capital. Of course, K'stanis were well armed, so crack units would be selected for the tough job ahead.

Over the Kriegos advance, the carrier aircraft of the five divisions assigned to capture key objectives as part of Operation Ahead flew over the destroyed air defences of the Kahanistani military. With 20,000 Kriegos fighters playing havoc with the Kstani military, the HALO airdrop from 9,000 metres with Kriegos air cover covering the transports. Key targets were bridges and sections of highway, especially crossroads.

Outside the city of Metzuda, the HALO jumps were concentrated about 15km outside the city with 55,000 troops dropping from 9,000 metres.

[Will retcon in appropriate air losses once you RP air defence.]

Strobovia Strait
HIQMS ARIHOMASHAZI
13th July

With Force E brought up, the amount of ships in the Strobovian Strait flying the Questarian jack increased largely. However, now the Scandavians were moving in force, it was a justified movement, though Fleet Admiral Keyes didn't have his preferred fleet composition, it woudl have to do. It appeared that NATO had been hit hard and was on the run, but the Questarian fleet itself had sustained casualties from the constant Scandavian and Midlonian bombardment. The Midlonian weapons were much less accurate and apart from a CVL sunk and another heavily damaged and more damage sustained to the battleship Convenience , there were no other ships of note sunk, with the exception of two dozen destroyers.

The Scandavian attacks had done much more damage, however. The Yamashiro, much to the irritance of Admiral Umezo, had sustained damage to her belt armour and RADAR/Sensor damage which was being repaired. However, the Scandavians attacked with guided missiles with more weight than their NATO counterparts, instead of launching spaced out strikes of 200 missiles or less. A fleet carrier fell prey to the Scandavian attacks as well as 12 Mogamis and a few destroyers that got in the way. However, refueling vessels trailing behind Force E were hit and six 100,000 ton refueling ships were sunk, their oil spreading across teh Strobovian Strait. The attack was fairly small compared to what was expected of the Scandavian fleet to come, but it did show that some weaknesses could be found in the joints of the Questarian air defence if sufficient numbers of missiles were applied.

This would have to be rectified.

[better post tomorow, this is really just a crappy 'i take losses' post.]

From eastern and western Kahanistan, over 2,000 GLI-76 fighters took off from hidden, underground airfields, to bolster the weak southern defences, weakened further by the surprise attack from the south.

The VTOL fighter was a favourite of the Republic Guard; it could take off no matter how badly the enemy cratered the airfields, if it could even find the airfields. The Macabean-made fighter pilots' commanders issued this simple order:

Drive the aggressors from our soil.

---

With most of Kahanistan's air defences still on the northern border where they had expected a Northfordian attack, the 1,200 or so SPAA-1's and 400 Praetorian II SAM launchers were about the only air defence available to the southern forces until the GLI-76's arrived.

Of course, every dam, power station, and other strategically important area that wasn't in a civilian population center had several dozen SAM batteries, chaff launchers, decoy radars, flak cannons, and other protection that would make quick work of an unorganised attack and make even an organised attack look like an intimidating task.

Within the capital, Acting Defence Minister Samarra Rakhmadi, an outspoken anti-Catholic, suggested that Catholics be registered with the government so that they could be "better protected." The military was taking her suggestion seriously; the massacres of Catholics were harming Kahanistan's international reputation and many generals feared Doomani intervention.

OOC: I realize Questers has not responded to my attacks yet. Therefore I am posting nothing concerning San-Nereiana’s ground operations yet.

IC:

The Northfordian bombardment was not as effective as it was expected – simply because San-Nereiana had no submarine facilities to be worth mentioning. Still, about 4,000 people were killed, and two cruisers sunk in the North, and several freighters and refueling points damaged in the South. In return, the San Nereianan coastal defenses fired their flak and mid-range anti-air missiles against the passing bombers.

And, in response, the Allanean High Command – finally – ordered a return to the war at sea.

From the Cloyster Coast and the coast of San-Nereiana, ten Allanean carrier battlegroups each deployed. Between them, there were only 338 ships joining the fray, and a hundred of those were not even combatants. It was not much, but it was hoped that it would be meaningful in terms of tilting the balance. And, to augment that with a serious opening punch, the Allaneans drew an ace from the sleeve.

In the waters near San-Nereiana and the Cloyster Coast, there lay underwater Khan launchers. Today, they would be emptied. The sky would glow.

There were 1,900 Khan missiles under the surface – some had already been launched, and this was what remained now.

Today, they fired at once, at 38 Khans per Questarian heavy carrier. The logic was simple and brutal:

How many sea-skimming hypersonic missiles can they take down, anyway?

The Serechav was a sprawling complex, which occupied a good deal of north central Daturias. Built during the revolution, it housed the Ministries as well as the Angsiyan's own offices. Public events were usually held at the front courtyard, with the building and it's front fountain as a backdrop. A few thousand people could assemble there comfortably, and the East and West wings of the Serechav loomed on either side.

Vzj'Nakai security men stood patiently between the massive pillars at the Serechav's entrance, overlooking a platoon or so of CDC men who stood at intervals on either side of the Angsiyan's path of entry. It was early evening; street merchants and white collar businessmen alike filtered slowly out of their places of business and meandered to the Serechav for the event, joined occasionally by packs of curious children or press observers.

Althalon allowed this spectacle to continue for an hour or so, until the crowd spilled over past the Serechav courtyard, spanning into (and eventually over) the street. Barricades quickly came up, and black and yellow Iteration XV men took to the streets to redirect traffic. At about 7:15, a pair of large gravitic platforms floated overhead and alighted on the roof of either side of the Serechav, disgorging a small team of men who set up jumbotrons for those unfortunate enough to have an inadequate view.

Moments after they finish, the beating of drums begins; accompanied as (Ardan military displays usually were) with a chorus of Easterling and Dunlending chants. Minister Reaven steps out, previously unnoticed, from the Serechav's front. "Arda!" he booms as the drums subside to a low rumble; sweeping a hand out over the audience, although still some distance away from them. "The Angsiyan is ready to speak!" A hush falls over the crowd, but as Althalon steps out it is promptly replaced by a rumbling cheer.

The Vzj'Nakai men standing guard between the Serechav's pillars step out on either side of the Ardan sovereign as he steps into the sunlight. Six of them on either side advance in quick unison with Althalon himself, resplendent in their gold and black dress uniforms. The Angsiyan's uniform is cut like an Iteration Engineer's uniform, with a wide collar and one broad lapel concealing another. One lapel bore the tan of the Guardis Imperica senior officer's corps, and was clasped overtop the Pax's corresponding red lapel during times of peace. Althalon wears no medals and no headpiece, but a broad cloak sweeps behind him as he strides to the podium, in a manner vaguely resembling a soldier's march. He wears a sword at his hip and when the cloak catches in the wind hints can be seen of a small sidearm at his back, its holster poking out from under the hem of his jacket.

The Angsiyan Konrad Althalon steps up to a moderately sized podium and lays a hand on either side, greeted with a swell of approval from the Daturias townsfolk. Althlough Althalon was of primarily Dunlending descent, he became a hero of the revolution against Morgoth by holding onto an Easterling city, which eventually emerged as the capital of Nova Rhûn and eventually of the entirety of Arda's Five Kingdoms. Dubbed 'The Northwatch' as the result of his efforts, Daturias remained a major stronghold to check the random tides of Morgoth's Orc holdouts in the northern wastes.

"Children of Arda!" barks Althalon into his microphone array, extending a hand out, palm upwards to the audience and sweeping over them. "Welcome! Welcome, to the final stage of our rebirth!" He lowers his hand and lets the din subside. "Today our machines of war are bound for Haven," he booms enthusiastically. "Brave crews are departing over Belfalas as I stand before you now, bound for Haven to execute Arda's will and forge an international destiny for the New Empire."

His tone is firm but carries a hint of regret. "Soon they will see justice done in a region that will hopefully recognizes it when they see it. For too long now Arda and Haven have been seperated by an ocean of apathy and suspicion. Today we hurl open the gates of war to put down the miscreant Commonwealth." He tilts his chin downward and raises his hands to his breast, unfastening his lapel. "Arda," he continues as he smoothly buttons the jacket on the other side, obscuring the Guardis tan with the Pax crimson[/i] "will now remind the world of her military genius."

A great cheer arose from the citizens of Daturias. The changing of the Angsiyan's lapel from tan dominant to red dominant signified the end of Arda's peace and the official start of the war in Haven. Although Arda had already fired shots, the official declaration only came when her sovereign made the change. "Today all across our great continent, Arda's sons are laboring for Haven's betterment. Ever ready to combat the lingering influence of Morgoth, Arda has hastened to the aid of one of his greatest enemies; and in so doing will cement a new legacy for all of us. As I speak the Fourth is nearing its objective, and the Third will soon begin combat over Allanea. We've been ready for this conflict for some time now; ever since the Commonwealth bigwigs trumpeted their intentions to the skies and invited all manner of wrath upon them. Arda alone is fully prepared and uninhibited; only we alone of all the war's combatants are fully prepared..."

***
About 1600km southeast of Ceylon...

"It's time," Air Colonel Dhamo Varoshi advises his Marshal. "Our first line of cruisers (http://s48.photobucket.com/albums/f222/ganjmahal/Renders/?action=view&current=CruiserMkIIBroadside.jpg) has just come within firing range of Port Ceylon."

Air Marshal Ezerhan Kordiyeh heaves himself off his chair and calls to his adjutant with a Haradrim shout. "Excellent," he offers as a man hastens to them. "But don't fire just yet. Go ahead and launch your escort, but I want to wait until some of the caps slide into position to start hitting Ceylon proper. I'll have Melian* sweep out the Valkyries (http://s48.photobucket.com/albums/f222/ganjmahal/Renders/?action=view&current=ValkyrieMkIIAntiAir.jpg) behind you after a few more clicks.

Kordiyeh and Varoshi exchange salutes and the Colonel is off. Kordiyeh speaks quietly with his adjutant for a moment before breaking off and heading to the his command platform. The command platform was a raised disc in Kordiyeh's planning room. It had a partially enclosed chair in the middle, which slid around on the surface of the disc, allowing the Marshal to interact with the 3 dimensional renderings of his fleet. From the command platform he could communicate with and issue direct orders to any ship in his fleet; even those under Melian's control. Ardan AI interface actually had an "off" button; a feature that was a glaring oversight in many sci-fi 'rampant AI' type scenarios.

Kordiyeh sits down and flips a switch on the device, bringing it out of standby and showing the 4th's descent into Haven in real time. They had broken orbit not long ago, and were now coming down in a wedge formation some distance southeast of Ceylon. Light cruisers formed the vanguard, the larger caps immediately behind them. The Haradrim Air Marshal whirls around in his chair, dragging his finger across the hologram, creating a slide window that covered the entire first firing section. He flips another switch and a communications channel is opened to the selected craft.

"Firing sections 1A through 5B commence firing on selected targets in ninety seconds." An automated timer starts, counting down in big red numbers on the bridge of every designated ship. "Númenór and Ahdashim follow in one hundred. Clear your tubes." Kordiyeh checks his watch. "Firing sections 7C through 10F pinwheel northeast and take up on our right flank. Flak and artillery frigates to surface. Valkyries will deploy underneath. Carriers fly high. Clear an additional 36 escort craft. Gunships commence launch in five minutes."

Done for the moment, Kordiyeh leans back in his chair and watches as his orders take shape. The flak (http://s48.photobucket.com/albums/f222/ganjmahal/Renders/?action=view&current=FlakFrigateMkIIIProfile.jpg) and artillery (http://s48.photobucket.com/albums/f222/ganjmahal/Renders/?action=view&current=ArtyFrigateMkI.jpg) frigates were already descending rapidly towards the rolling waves beneath, and the missile craft (http://s48.photobucket.com/albums/f222/ganjmahal/Renders/?action=view&current=MissileFrigateMkI-1.jpg) spread out in a wide, convex arch as more of them break formation from the rear and take up a line between the cruisers and the capships. The carriers (http://s48.photobucket.com/albums/f222/ganjmahal/Renders/?action=view&current=CarrierMkIIRightProfile.jpg) were ascending rapidly, the lowest was the Hithlum at a paltry 25,000 feet. Eventually the Umbar would disgorge its entire compliment, protecting the Fourth with an escort of about a hundred and fifty Wainrider (http://s48.photobucket.com/albums/f222/ganjmahal/Renders/?action=view&current=WainriderMkIITop.jpg) fighters, most of them of the Mark II (http://s48.photobucket.com/albums/f222/ganjmahal/Renders/?action=view&current=WainriderMkIIBottom.jpg) variety.

At the designated time, the first two columns of cruisers present their broadsides and launch their ordinance--the first, as it would end up, to be fired by Arda over Haven in the course of this war. First out of their tubes were 132 of Arda's Aquanaut class anti-ship missiles, designed specifically for the destruction of light and medium surface naval craft. Launched almost exclusively from the first two firing columns of cruisers, these missiles would form the vanguard of Arda's assault; and both waves of Aquanauts would strike specifically at the perimeter of the Questarian naval line. Fast and low-moving, the missiles had erratic flight patterns and and one in fifteen was packed with chaff; "dummy" missiles for any would-be countermeasures.

Behind these came the Destroyers' (http://s48.photobucket.com/albums/f222/ganjmahal/Renders/?action=view&current=DestroyerMkIAlt.jpg) Kwantung ordinance, four massive 5Mt fusion warheads that lumbered well over the Questarian fleets and towards the isle of Ceylon itself, taking up where the Third Kinetic detachment had left off. The slowest moving of Arda's ordinance, these missiles would fall among a screen of about another hundred medium warheads; these launched from Arda's missile frigates.

A few short minutes later, a second wave was launched, as more ships came into range and brought their tubes to bear. 660 Aquanauts and ten more Kwantung warheads would escape their tubes, falling under a similar (but larger) bodyguard of lighter ordinance. Escorts zoomed towards Ceylon and ascended into the lower stratosphere, keenly watching their scopes for any inbound enemy air support. Well behind the 4th, the Pax 7th Army (still halfway back to Arda), patiently waiting in their transports, had only to wait for Kordiyeh's guns to carve a swath through the Questarian Navy. The Ardan bid to sack Ceylon had begun.


*OOC: Melian (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Melian_(Middle-earth)) (as well as being the name of one of the more powerful Maia ) is the name for the Cerulean Imperica's pet AI. She controls the Valkyrie gunships and the missile frigates, since they'd both be death traps anyway.

OOC2: Ignore those missile tubes on the bottom of the Valkyrie's nose. That render is supposed to illustrate the ship with both anti-fighter and anti-ship weapons, but they can't be deployed at the same time. Each one has 1 flak cannon on the nose and a .50 cannon on the top.

Kahanistan, approaching North Vegas
13th July Questarian Calendar

”Look at your young men fighting,
Look at your women cryin,
Look at your young men dying,
The way they've always done before...”

“Okay lads, we gotta’ move and move out quick. We’re part of Army Group III, and we’re lotted with in with the rest of the Group in encircling some K-stani shit’ole called ‘North Vegas’. Soon as we arrive, God be with you, and stay safe – and under no circumstances are you to enter that fuckin’ city until we get word from higher ups? We just gonna’ dig in, circle the fuckers and let ‘em starve into submission, ‘aight?”

“SUH, YES SUH!”

“Too fuckin’ right.”

The boom of machismo in the APC echoed about in the heads of the men who’d just shouted in blind obedience at the behest of the later twenties, stubble covered and dark moustache toting Sergeant-Major. Timothy began to breathe quicker. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, and in the distance he could hear the boom of bombs and missiles still crashing into Kahanistan, the screech of fighters and the CAS. The rumble of tanks and the sounds of weapons having magazines slapped in, helmets tightened and gear checked over again. Timothy was ready, but he was petrified.

“You’ll be fine lad.” Said the Sergeant-Major, in a voice quieter than the one he’d addressed the rest of the section with, slapping the young man on the back. The Sergeant-Major pulled his Chorka free and inspected it quickly. It was a tad chipped, but superbly maintained and kept. The chip was doubtless the result of some poor Questarian’s death at his hands, during the uprising in Eastern Questers sometime ago. The amount of men that were sent to that conflict paled utterly next to this one, however. Tim observed Tom, locked in the same hypnotic state the rest of the APC’s occupants were in: checking over his manner of dealing death. A few months ago Tom and Tim had fought tooth and nail to keep a baby rook alive they found in their shed when they noticed the door was ajar, now they were going to go kill for the country. Tim had yet to see the glory in this most bizarre of circumstances, but he was sure it would present itself. And besides, it was his duty.

The speakers in the APC crackled into life, and while a huge number of jets screeched overhead, engaging the aerial resistance the Kahanistanis were offering.

”Men, we are currently thirty miles from North Vegas. God be with you, he has blessed us in our initial attack by leaving the Kahanistani open on our border. Prepare to disembark and assist in fortifying the noose we will tie around the Kahanistanis at North Vegas. Fear not for fear of aerial or missile retaliation, for the skies overhead swarm with Kriegos aircraft and close-air-support. Fear not encirclement ourselves, for Army Group IV is ready to shatter whatever attempt they make at penning us in. And fear not the Kahanistanis, for you are Kriegos, and Kriegos soldiers are among the best in the world, and are far superior to Kahanistani swine. God be with you.”

Kensington,
13th July

The city, despite the massive war in the North, was still functioning pretty smoothly. Films still ran, buses were still the required 5 minutes late, and kids not at the frontline were still obnoxious little shits. Kids, young-adults, adolescents – whatever you want to call young teenagers – were doing what was described trendy on the music channels and lifestyle advising soaps in the schoolyards. It was mid-day, and people were either popping off to grab something to eat, especially the teenagers who abandoned the school grounds about the city in droves in order to grab some fish and chips, mainly because the school dinners were a “pile of wank”.

Things were utterly normal, which made the roar of a warhead all the more bizarre. Not one, not two, but three warheads slammed into various architecture about the city. One landed in an industrial zone. Another landed in a residential zone’s church. The final one, landed square in a school. The city was filled with screams as the Ebola spread before dissipating, its vile work done. At the present time, the death toll would be uncertain, but thanks to the swift intervention of the National Health Service and aid from the Questarians with their cure to the vile plague, many lives were saved. In spite of this, the end-death toll was 50,000, particularly among children and the elderly, who simply were not equipped to survive such a plague, even with extensive medical help. The number of deaths was higher in Scousen, the third largest city, where four missiles got through and managed to inflict 83,000 deaths.

However, in both cities, once the initial shock was gone, the fear that was meant rest in the people’s hearts was absent. Instead, a furious, righteous anger boiled up in the normally decadent, docile and selfish people of two of the most developed and babylonized cities in all of Kriegorgrad. Approval of the war amongst the previously undecided people in the cities soared, and the jingoistic beat of patriotism or nigh-nationalism kicked in. One would note in later days that the number of flags flying from windows and masts had quadrupled.

Also, about all the cities in Kriegorgrad, and this would remain for the duration of the war, were plaques, graffiti and posters with two words and three numbers.

“We remember 7/13.”

To Whom It May Concern in Allanea,

If you ever do anything of the sort again, we will render the Kahanistani people extinct by the most thorough use of biological weapons you have seen. We will then turn our attentions to you, and we will render you Allaneans extinct also by the same method.

If you do not repeat such a cowardly form of attack, we will do war in a decent manner with you. I do not speak for the Questarians, however. Have a good day.

Yours Sincerely,

Mr. Roger Tominson
Bureaucrat of the Ministry of Defence

Kahanistan, Army Group VII, 75 kilometres south of the Kahanistani trenchline
13th July

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v227/Kriegorgrad/KriegosAttackPlanII.png

General Bournhill ran his eyes over the vague map sprawled over the collapsible table. The army groups only following the arrows allotted them vaguely…in fact, the starting points of the army groups was closed to the border as well. The choreographer just got lazy with resizing the symbols. In fact, the cities weren’t quite in the right place, either. Wasn’t a matter. He’d already looked over the map and used it simply as a reference for the overall flow of the campaign. He looked about the colonels gathered about the table – and him – with a smile beneath his greying black moustache.

“So chaps, the Questarians have been charming enough to capture the key bridges required for our advance, so tell your men to offer a cigarette or two if they look like they’re desperate. Anyway, I want two brigades of mechanised infantry with attached self-propelled artillery and armour to move up and start probing the enemy defences.”

“Yes sir, I shall inform those involved immediately.”

“Spiffing.”

“Sir, shall we gather the armour into the spreadhead over the 30km row suggested for the break-through?”

“Indeed. And I want the infantry in a massive line for a full attack when the time is right. We’re 75 kilometres away from the enemy, which gives us the breathing space to get into formation. And I was aerial cover of my units at all times.”

“Yes sir, of course sir.”

The two brigades advanced closer to the trenchline of the Kahanistanis – and unknowingly into the range of the Al-Fao artillery. But time would tell whether or not this probing would allow for a gauging of Kahanistani strength, or simply over 6,000 men sent to the slaughter.

"Pretend to be weak, that [the enemy] may grow arrogant." - Sun Tzu, The Art of War, chapter 1, section 22.

With that in mind, only ten of the fifty or so Al-Fao guns 40 kilometers south of North Vegas opened fire with incendiary munitions, fuel-air shells and napalm-filled projectiles incinerating anything within range of their fire.

At the same time, Kahanistanian infantry in Kriegzimmer Ejiard IFV's advanced slowly, with a light screening force of Merkava IV tanks (used only in the reserve as combat units) ahead of the IFV's.

Should the line breach here (and the retreating forces torch the earth with napalm), the two million or so CIDG's in North Vegas would be on the defensive. These paramilitaries may not have had top-of-the-line gear (most had standard body armour, a NBC suit, a battle rifle, and a lot of ammo, and had few tanks, planes, or other vehicles beyond technicals with machine guns, portable SAM launchers, or antitank guns) or the best training (they drilled about once a week, and discipline problems were rampant in most battalions) but they were determined fighters, and they weren't giving their homeland to some imperialist aggressor.

Of course, not everyone wanted to fight and die, and many still didn't care whether the Questarian Commonwealth or Gholgoth ruled the world. Some people crammed themselves onto civilian cargo planes and set off, most of the time far above the stated weight restrictions of the planes, and almost always with many sitting or standing in the aisles. They would head anywhere from the Western Atlantic to the Allanean-liberated regions in Africa, or to whatever nations they felt were most likely to take them in.

All of the missile attacks launched by the Imperium up until the present time had involved missiles going high and really fast. Part of the reason for that was the simple fact that large and heavy missiles needed lots of altitude to get any kind of decent range. The other part of the reason was to get the IQN air defense crews used to Imperial missiles coming in like they were. No complexity, just a high, fast, and dumb attack swamping the defenses. In short, a set-up for the brass knuckle-assisted left hook.

The air attack was divided into equally into two waves, both waves armed with the rarely-used AGM-335 cruise missile. The first wave would take off fifteen minutes ahead of the second, deliver its payload in sea-skimming mode, and return home. The missiles of the first wave were programmed to diverge by a wide margin and then converge back on the Questarian fleet so that the wave came in clumps from extremely different axis. Nine minutes after the first wave of missiles was launched the Imperial fleet first its first shots in anger, the fleet's ships of the line emptying their VLS of their compliment SGM-503B cruise missiles. 15 minutes after the first wave the second wave of air-launched cruise missiles was launched, which came in as a single group and at high altitude.

The second set of attack six hours later was much the same as the first, minus the ship-launched missiles. The sea-skimming missiles came in on different axis to prevent the Questarians from guessing where the missiles would come in from, but beyond that there was no real variation.

The third set of attacks came eight hours after the second. The hitch in the schedule was designed into the attack for three reasons; the first to give the pilots some downtime, the second to keep the Questarian sailors on edge expecting another attack at any moment, and the third to give time for the Imperial fleet to get in missile range for a second attack involving ship-launched missiles. As with the previous two attacks, the A-102s took off in two waves, however two minutes before the first wave of aircraft could launch their missiles the superdreadnaughts of the combined fleet let off with their magazines of AGM-503A missiles. The far more massive wave of missiles was meant to be the uppercut that cripple the Questarian fleet in the Strob for good.

The fourth set of attacks four hours later was yet another curve ball that the Questarians had not yet experienced. While it mattered little as far as the Questarians were concerned, the time between wave launches was closed to six minutes. The reason for such a measure was very simple, the second waved carried something very different. Instead of the AGM-335 cruise missiles carried on the three previous attacks, each aircraft of the second wave now carried two AGM-502 cruise missiles. They would still come in high and dumb, but the "sacrificial wave" was twice as large for the attack.

Alexander Kazansky was laughing.

Fools! Do you think I will seriously bow down to you? I, Alexander Kirillovich Kazansky, Sword of the Queen? I have never signed a surrender treaty in my life, and certainly will not know, when I carry the Queen’s Wrath.

From the Allanean air bases in the Cloyster Coast, dozens of aircraft took off. These were Antonov supercargo aircraft, and they came by the hundred. 400 of them were sent off to Kahanistan. They were escorted by immense amounts of air superiority fighters that would ward off attempts to intercept them, and they carried an airborne division and an armored division. Additionally, 20 Ank’riat bombers and 50 Velkyan-made Lancaster B bombers were moved to airfields in North Kahanistan.

What, do you think that the United States of Allanea will listen to your childish attempts to dictate our tactics? Listen to me, you sorry, anti-Semitic, genocidal fucks. You breathe, because in her great kindness, her Majesty the Queen has not yet ordered me to get really medieval on your ass. For every last minute of your life, you should praise our wonderful Queen for her kindness and mercy.

In orbit, ten Allanean Thor satellites realigned themselves, setting new targets. For one of the satellites, the target for all of it’s 14 ‘godrods’ was the Kriegish capital city. Targeted were power plants and key phone facilities of the city. The other satellites, with a combined power of 126 rods, impacted various military airfields throughout Kriegorgrad.

Who the hell do you think we are, you fool? Do you think this is fucking Amestria or something? Do you think we’re just going to surrender and let our allies in Kahanistan die? Let me tell you something: I want you to take that proclamation and shove it where the sun don’t shine. Also, speaking of it: I just had some Girl Scouts piece together a short scat fetish video featuring your national flag. It will be broadcasted shortly.

As the scat video (basically, footage of naked girls about 19 years of age wiping their rears with the Kriegogradi flag, showering, and proceeding to do naughty things with each other) was being broadcasted, the other two submarines that Allanea deployed fired their weapons. Their warheads – again, 400 in number – were aimed at the invading Kriegorgradian forces. The internals of the MIRV’s were coated in Teflon, for a very good reason:

They targeted the Kriegorgradians besieging South Vegas with hydrofluoric acid – known in some countries as Pestis Dei. In total, 350 liters of it were dispensed per warhead – and given it’s anti-gas-mask features, this would surely do a number on the enemy.

Central Command, Norman

THEY SAID WHAT?

Yessir thats correct.

Our own government has completely capitulated without any Midlonian ground forces in Okielahoma? The pussies! Well where has "President" Tannin gone to?

Sir he has fled into Willink.

Willink? Why Willink?

I dont no sir, but thats irrelevant right now because have half of the Midlonian army sitting off of our coast.

Thats terrific. At least they excpect us to capitulate but that wont happen until hell freezes over. Contact all regional commanders right now. I want a video conference with them now!

Yessir!

The government may surrender but the army is ready for a fight! Alert our fleet returning from exercsizes in Plumbley Island to be at the highest alert.

Yessir, on my way sir!

Port Caroline, Radar Operation Room

Sir you might want to have a look at this!

What is it Anderson?

Sir there is a massive air wave coming our way!

From where? Clandonia? The fucking proles!

No sir. Its from Midlonia. And its big. I'd estimate over 600 bombers.

Horseshit. Why am I being told this now? Look how fucking close they are Anderson? Do you know what this means? This station is the farthest west outpost in the COUNTRY! We are freaking screwed! But never mind that now. Scramble all fighters and get the air defense crews ready. I want the WSRRT (Western Sector Rapid Responce Team) ready to handle an invasion. Prepare the city to resist an invasion, without causing panic. Keep all civilians in the city that can operate firearms. Godspeed!

Yessir.

Port Caroline Airforce Base

Ace Bradley Knotts sat in his cot, reading the daily news. He itched for a fight and knew one would be coming soon. He hadnt tasted action since the Gholtogh conflict back in 2002, five freaking years ago. He was tired of air laser tag and those stupid exerscizes. He knew a war was loming, all the papers and commanders said so but when and by who? General Good had said that he beleived the Midlonains would come but when? Knotts stared at the warning light above him...

Three hours later

Roger sir, I can see the whole damn force on radar. Sir, permission to engage requested.

Denied Knotts. Get back down here on the ground. We have no chance here today and you are our best pilot, we need you safe not fighting a loosing battle. Thats an order Knotts, get on the ground now.

Back at Central Command

General Good what is your casualty report?

Sir its not good. Ive lost a Class Phoenix battleship, eight Class Cactus destroyers and a Lancaster carrier and countless small boats. Fortunately we lost no submarines but, the human cost was high.

How high?

Around 17,000 dead or injured including civilians.

General Leapart. I want our SGTRF deployed into the central highlands. We can make a stand there. Make sure they are spread thin throughout the mountains so airstrikes can dislodge them. I want the Okiya (Native Peoples) armed and ready to defend also. Order the 1st, 3rd and 5th Army Groups' forward. We are going to make this hell for the Midlonians.

OOC: Not in the war, but I hope I'm allowed to post my $.02 here. If not, I will gladly delete it.

IC:

"Have you ever seen a glacier, boy? There are none here. But up in the north they have them...great mountains of ice, inching along bit by bit. Do you have any idea of the inertia, boy? Incredibly slow, yes, but the sheer mass is incredible. They have a path, and they will follow it, shifting mountains and leveling all in their path. That might give you an idea of what the next war will be like. The world war. Except that wars are faster, and to follow the metaphor, the glacier is consciously planning how it might do the most damage."
-High Inquisitor Kreegan (apocryphal)

"There they go, gentlemen. I told you it would be like this."

"You don't know everything, Rahvin-"

"Actually, General, for the purposes of this presentation, he does. Or am I mistaken, and was it you who predicted this course of events months ago?"

The words were cutting and cruelly delivered, and General Shadows, the second speaker, swallowed his pride before replying to his master in as humble a tone as he could manage, "My apologies, Divine One." Lucifer, shrouded in shadow at the head of the table, nodded and turned back to the display, where Rahvin indicated the dispositions of the known forces in Haven.

"As you can see, to follow the colloquialism, the shit has officially hit the fan. High Inquisitor, you'll recall that in your essay, The Next War, you predicted that this war would be particularly brutal. Preliminary reports indicate you're absolutely right; for example, a rumor has reached our ears that Pestis Dei has been released. I'll be speaking more about that later." Rahvin lowered the telescopic pointer, and looked around at his audience.

"Following the initial Questarian attacks, the fighting has escalated significantly, and the whole world will soon be enveloped by war. Details can be found in the reports that the Intelligence Division have provided, but powers such as Arda, Questers, and the Silver Sky are currently tearing each other apart in general. Now, the question we need to ask is, of course, what can the Imperium do to profit from this?

"With the world powers in chaos, the Imperium goes unnoticed. Certainly the war in Southeast Asia will be missed; perhaps even upcoming operations in Borneria. But the most important local issue is still the Doomani-Generian tension. Kazatmiru and his cohorts have not withdrawn anything from their massive commitment to the Freudian coasts, and a single twitch by either side will hurl the CAD into bloodshed just as brutal as that which has begun in Haven. Allanea's engagement in this war, however, may have a profound effect on the situation in Freudotopia, especially the rumors of Allanean use of Pestis Dei. That particular fact is highly disturbing, and I request that the Intelligence Division invest greater effort in verifying or denying it.

"I know a few of you are saying to yourselves, 'This is intolerable! The greatest war the world has ever seen, and we are not involved!' Well, gentlemen, there's some truth to that. If possible, we will not let this pass by. But I remind you all of the size of our commitment to Ishamael's force in Southeast Asia: almost two-thirds of our flagships, over five thousand vessels in total, and millions upon millions of troops and support personnel. If we deployed a force of any competitive size to Haven, we would be stripping the defenses here to dangerous levels, not to mention removing any semblance of preparation for a potential war between Generia and the Imperium Doomanum.

"Gentlemen, this war will not be simple. Involved or not, the Imperium will see destruction on an unheard-of scale. Politically, the course of events till now has been completely predictable, save for the re-emergence of Freudotopia. Now, things are up in the air; this is a slugfest between professional armies, all trained, all disciplined, all armed with the latest technology, all backed up by vast wartime economies, all determined to secure victory at any price. This is more complicated than 'Look at the infidels fighting like vermin; imagine how easy it will be to cleanse them after this!' In fact, I can't reduce this war to a sentence, and I won't try. Don't look at this war like the Roman Emperors at a gladiatorial event either; we're not just spectators as the doomed slaughter each other for our enjoyment, and we can't rig this. We are reservists; we will watch, and we will be ready."

Azaha
15th Special Air Group Aerodrome
14th July, 0530h

The spaceplanes on the tarmac glistened in the early morning sun, large rising suns contrasing with the pure black and white of the colours of the 15th Special Air Group as their pilots wiped their foreheads and gulped vigorously from large bottles of iced water and cups of tea. The hastily built room that served as a briefing centre looked more like a classroom than anything, with various charts and maps and desks for each squadron leader set out facing the front. In came the 'teacher' - Lt.General Hart.

There was no salute, as Hart had made it clear to his Air Regiment there would be none of that between him and his commanding officers. Instead, he began to address the men.

"Alright lads, the Allaneans have escalated. Icendiary weapons over the capital have caused massive destruction. At the present, we believe half a million civilians dead. Could be twice that. Could even be three or four times."

Fear went over the squadron leaders. Some of them and some of their crew had family or relatives living in the capital. They had never thought Allanea would commit such barbaric acts. Fear was not the only emotion that ran through them now; it was hate, anger that the enemy could do such disgusting attacks on civilians. One of the squadron leaders smashed his fist on the table; his whole family was living in the Azahan capital residential zones and its likely they could have been killed by the Allanean bombardment.

"Not just that." Hart continued "But Allanean forces have deployed biological and chemical weapons against civilian targets in Kriegorgrad, including ebola. Luckily we've got the cure for it, but casualties are still mounting into the hundred thousand region."

Astonishment among the pilots. They had never been to Kriegorgrad, or met anyone Kriegos. But they were white, they where anglophonic, and they where christian, and most of all they were allies. It was an insult. An attack on the Commonwealth, on liberty, on human rights and the supposed sanctity of civilian life.

"Fucking pigs!" one of the COs shouted out. "Lets waste these fuckers!"

"Now, now." The General replied. "Our retaliation weapons have just arrived. Our targets are clear and strategic: revenge is the name of the game. Along with the 16th and 17th we're hitting the three main cities in San Nereiana. Our targets are the capital and its an easy mission which you'll have air superiority over, as our boys have hit San Nereiana's military infrastructure hard. Not that it matters, there's no aircraft in San-Nere that can catch you at altitude. Just cross over the city and fire your payload. Easy job."

"What weapons are we using?" one of the COs asked.

"We're using SP-38s and SP-35s, an equal mix of each." The militarised spaceplanes could hold 395 tons of munitions and as such a stupendous amount of missiles could be carried, and fired well out of SAM or interceptor range. The SP-38 was a sarin based weapon, within 0.01 milligram per kilogram of body weight enough to kill a person without immediate medical assistance. Each SP-38 had 25 submunition bomblets each worth 100kg of the deadly sarin gas. Eleven of the spaceplanes in the 15th Special Air Group would carry the SP-38 which, outside the briefing room, was now being loaded into the bombays of the bombers. 98 of the missiles for each bomber, to be fired over commercial and residential areas. Revenge was sweet.

For the others, they used the SP-35, which was slightly different in that each missile was enough to contaminate 50 square kilometres with its weapon of choice: anthrax. Each of the eleven aircraft only carried 33 of these missiles, but it didn't matter: it was enough. Within half an hour, the loading process was complete, and the pilots were setting off. Captain Rogers was the last to board his plane. He had been ringing home ever since the briefing. He'd tried all the neighbours numbers, and would later find out the entire street had been annihalated by the Allanean bombardment. He cursed and kicked and shouted obscenities that no man on the airfield could match before strapping down in the pilot seat, ignoring the "I'm sure they're okay" of his crew. Still infuriated, Rogers could not stop thinking about his wife; okay, not the most beautiful woman in the world, but to him he could think of no other he'd rather be with. Of his two sweet children who he'd kissed on the forehead before leaving for the airbase that night. He pushed forward the stick, trying to make the movements as accurate as possible, which was quite hard.

In no time at all, the spaceplanes were soaring just below the atmosphere. There was no fighter that could reach this high and missiles and lasers could not catch the spaceplanes. The 15th Special Air Group unleashed their weapons, bomb bays systematically unloading their cargo over the city. The rockets dropped, and after a period, ignited and soared down to meet their foe. It was somewhat spectacular; the sheer number of missiles which would cause imnumberable deaths.

Funnily enough, Rogers didn't feel at all appeased or better for himself. He desperately tried not to think that he had just inflicted on an entire city what had been done to him. He just let the cold satisfaction of a 'job well done' run through him.

[The same treatment was given to the next two biggest cities]

H.I.M Government Statement
We have conducted escalatory and retaliatory actions against Allanean holdings in San-Nereiana for the attack on Kriegos civilian cities. If Allanea does not cease to use chemical and biological weapons against civilian targets we will have no choice but to escalate in kind. We have retaliated, now halt your barbaric acts of attacking civilians with weapons of mass destruction, unless you wish escalation to continue. We urge NATO nations to put pressure on Allanea to cease using WMD on civilian targets. Against military targets, we will return in kind and continue to tactically escalate.

Ceylon
Force C
14th July

Outward UAV scouts had picked up the Ardan fleet some 2,000 kilometres off, but hadn't anticipated engagement at this range. Admiral Nishimura onboard the Hirokaze was in temporary command of Force C, but there wasn't much for him to do yet, as the opening picket intercepted the missile attack with fairly low losses, losing four destroyers to the opening engagement. The gigantic warheads were intercepted by defences off Ceylon, with one managing to get through and cause further massive damage to Ceylon's port. The next wave of missiles did similar damage, and all in all Nishimura was seeing what he had heard from the western theatre: NATO missile attacks, with a few exceptions, seemed to be small and concentrated and as such easily intercepted by large area theatre RADAR the Questarians used. But this was something different; the UAVs had discovered the floating Ardan carriers descending and mantaining their altitude. Nishimura took the initiative and decided to engage the Ardan fleet: the more carriers sunk, the more chance of a medal, and of course the more chance of winning the war. All in all, Nishimura had lost a cruiser and 12 destroyers. Not bad, he thought.

"So, what are we expecting?" Nishimura asked the group of military officials around him.

"They're moving to close. We're carrier centric, so perhaps they want to get in artillery range?" Shurohasa, the planning officer suggested.

"I don't know. That could easily be a feint." Moritomo the air officer replied in argument. "I don't think they'd dare engage in open battle with us. We're carrier centric, true, but we've got some of our best battleships in here. I don't honestly believe their fleets up to engaging with our gun capitals and they know it too. I don't think they've got the slugging power to match us." Moritomo finished.

"I'm not sure its a feint. What reason do they have to feint? There's no tactical or strategic gain to it here." Shurohasa argued back. "They want to get up and dirty with our gunships. I don't think we should let them do that; we can eviscerate them from range."

"I don't disagree." Said Moritomo. "But they're not stupid. This is a feint, I'm sure of it."

"But why? Why do they need to feint? They can't match our missile power and their main hope is to get up close and kill carriers. They know they can't penetrate our Mogami shield with their missile strikes, so they're going for a gun engagement with our little carriers. They do have their own gun-ships, you know."

"Yes, but not to match ours. I don't think NATO is suicidal to achieve any strategic kills at this point."

"They're not NATO. Its clear what they want to do: get our fleet out the way so they can land on Ceylon. You know how well defended Ceylon is; do you really want them "liberating" it?" Shurohasa asked.

"Oh come on. We outnumber them three to one. There's no contest: This is a clear cut feint."

"If it is a feint." Nishimura said, ignoring Shurohasa's surprise at his assumption "Then what do we do?"

"Just keep our battle line as it is." Moritomo said.

"And if its not?" Nishimura looked to Shurohasa.

"Then we move out our gunships to engage the Ardans and move our carriers further back." Shurohasa said.

"I'm inclined to believe its a feint." Nishimura said. "Our main task here is to link up with the Zukariaans, so we've no time to waste.

Shurohasa sighed.

For the counterattack, the G5M3 bombers took off from Ceylon's Naval Air Station, which magically had managed to stay intact as it had not been attacked yet. No.677 Hikojo Chutai, with three groups of 22 G5Ms was armed with the latest in air to ship weapons in the Questarian Navy: the AS10A, but this would be something different. It didn't take much to re-program it switch around its attack figuration from hi-lo, to hi-hi, and generally anything in its radar range could be attacked. At 1,000km, No.677 Hikojo Chutai began its attack run.

Captain Hata flicked a few switches, jolting his aircraft upwards slightly nose towards the enemy formation. Looking out the wings, flying at 29,000 feet he could see nothing but clouds and somewhat marvelled that modern warfare allowed him to engage at such a range. Nevertheless, he preferred it; much, much less dangerous. Looking back at his bombardier, Hata got the confirmation: a hundred klicks off target. Hata increased speed, unable to hear the howling of the wind outside, though the mutterings and chutterings of the engines were clear to him. Not too long afterwards, his bombardier gave the signal.

"Sir, we're 900 klicks off. Ready to attack now."

"Begin the attack pattern." Hata said simply.

The Bombardier pulled back on two sticks, releasing both missiles from their clamps and poising them ready for firing. He then pressed down on a pair of buttons and highlighted another two buttons for the attack pattern and asked again for firing.

"Permission to fire captain?"

"Granted, engage."

With that, the bombardier pushed down on the two 'ignite' buttons, launching both of the missiles. Within two minutes, the rest of the Company had done so, and 66 AS10A missiles went right for the Ardan carriers, speeding up to 4900km/h. They then banked and turned for home.

That wasn't all: Nishimura had sent up his first attack wave on the Ardan fleet in the form of 300 M3F1 bombers and their respectively sized escorts flying at 9,000 metres. Each tactical bomber was weighed down four AS-29s with the Type 2/29 booster, allowing a maximum range of 400 kilometres. They closed to the range. The second attack wave was flying slightly below the first and slightly behind it and contained 400 bombers and their respective fighter groups. This left a very skeleton air patrol around the Questarian fleet. Each of the bombers in the second wave was equipped with a single AS-42H, which they launched at 900 kilometres then pulled off and headed back for home.

The Midlonian ships had been picked up considerably earlier than they thought, but there wasn't a real response until they started shelling the coastal villages and towns. Many of the villages were depopulated simply by the fear of shelling as one after another received it. The only real challenge on the East Coast would be the port of Raimier Bay, complete with some surrounding coastal batteries based out of two forts.

Because there were so few people on the shore after the bombardments, it was difficult to get accurate reports about the drillships, with at least 11 sightings all along the coast. Some of these likely would be observers having been told about the drillships and then misidentifying a destroyer as one.

The Barkozian East Coast wasn't all that unlikely a target if it wasn't for the terrible landing conditions on that shore. Raimier Bay was one of the largest ports in Barkozy and the land beyond the shore was divided between the Maritime Militia coalition and the FIM coalition. FIM was a competitor to the Maritime Militia but it didn't have nearly as much financial backing and had little to no recognition. While MM could usually get an audience at any embassy in a foreign country, FIM had problems with foreign commerce, in no small part due to a lack of support among importers. Raimier Bay was also its own city-state under the direct control of a local import company. Before the war, it was a nice place for warships to stop for R&R.

--

Undisclosed Location in North Barkozy

An officer quickly walked into a nondescript shack near the Northern Coast. Just inside were several armed men who gave their nod of approval before opening the hatch so he could climb down. Inside there was a very spartan concrete walled-room with a single steel door. As the officer walked through it, he saw most of the major officers of the Maritime Militia, even one from FIM.

"So I presume this to be everyone? Well, clue me in to this situation." said the officer.

"Well, Snow, we've got Midlonian ships all along the East Coast, just about every town there is under bombardment. We believe that they began the bombardments all along the coast to camouflage their intentions." said one of the older officers, walking up to a large map.

"And what are their intentions?" said Snow.

"Well, you'll see eleven points marked on this map where there have been sightings of their special landing craft. Apparently they are attempting to drill through the cliffs there to open up landing beaches. Observation is trying to verify these sightings. We have no reports on what kind of force has landed. We couldn't get much on the fleet, but it's probably the largest we've ever seen including the Whyaticans."

Snow hesitated a moment before speaking. "I want no reserves to move past their mustering points yet. Until we know the nature of the land forces we stay put."

"Well, sir, with all due respect, couldn't we do better by moving straight to the shore with everything we have immediately?" said one of the other officers.

"First, I know you're new, but this isn't Questers, we don't do 'sir' and 'with all due respect' here, and second, we don't know what's going on there. It's completely stupid to move people into a situation about which we don't know. Any large movement would be interdicted to hell those big air forces have the capability to rout entire divisions without a single rifle firing." Snow said, looking to another officer who'd just come in.

"Yo, Snow, region 7 command is beggin' for reinforcements. They just wanted me to tell ya."

"Then tell them they have to fend for themselves." Snow snapped back in response, before continuing. "Oh, go and get the Whyatican government on the line."

"Alright, man." He walked back out.

Any resistance on the shore would be very sporadic sniper fire. Although Region 7 command wasn't receiving any reinforcements, it still was a significant military force and could be expected to organize a defense quickly.

A post for the Kahanistani front that I did not wish to repeat here. (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12895642&postcount=36)

Somewhere in San-Nereiana

“This is red alert. Incoming military spacecraft at coordinates...”

“They're goddamn military spacecraft, damn you all! What do they expect us to do?”

“Treat them as any other enemy spacecraft. Relay to space command.”

Within minutes, two Aries (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12199686&postcount=108) anti-ballsitic sattelite turned and fired their Needler guided missiles at the enemy spaceplanes. There were 24 missiles that that went on and dispensed 3 Starstreak guided missiles each, targeting all 66 planes. When the guided missiles would arrive near their target, each would unleash it's 'sting' – 3 guided submunitions.

ATTENTION ALL CITIZENS.
OUR CITY IS UNDER SUSPECTED NUCLEAR ATTACK.
DESCEND TO YOUR SHELTERS.
REPEAT DESCEND TO YOUR SHELTERS.

Fired at the enemy submunitions were three Supersprint nuclear missiles, detonating among the incoming swarm. The Allaneans were persuaded that there would be a nuclear attack – and they reacted the best that they could to that threat. Still, only about half of the incoming anthrax submunitions would be vaporised by the nuclear weapons. The rest would spread over the cities of Jorgensen, Freetown, and Tuchmann. In total, about 3,000 square kilometers – and the place where over 200,000 Allaneans lived.

Allanea had been attacked before – by nuclear weapons or ortillery – and so, many people were paranoid about such things. Many had owned ortillery or anti-nuclear shelters, and a few practiced full-blown survivalism. Now, they were rapidly descending to them, bolting doors shut, screaming abuse.

For many, this was not enough. Above ground, approximately thity thousand people died immediately, affected by the sarin gas. Twenty more thousand died by the end of the day, affected by the sarin. Many, many more would die in the following days, affected by the anthrax. Cars full of dead people blocked the roads, blocking the distribution of vaccine from the Military Emergency Reserve Storage and the work of emergency forces.

The Allaneans realized that they had to prevent the next attack. For that purpose, five Ocelot spacecraft were moved to orbit over San-Nereiana. Hopefully, that would help next time.

South San-Nereiana, aboard the USS Farking Awesome

“Men, we have a serious duty ahead of us. It is our duty to attack Islands Khoultum and Makhtoum, to assure the landing of airborne divisions.”

The Captain did not know that flights of aircraft – the same aircraft that have, before, deposed so many bombs on the military positions in Azaha were now raiding the islands. They deposed 40,000 tons of bombs on the island in one raid, and then returned to San-Nereiana. They concentrated on enemy runways and SAM positions.

“At my command, you will prepare to launch...”

Ten Arsenal ships parked in ports on the Southern shore spat fire. The eastern island was targeted with 5,000 cruise missiles, now targeting the positions of the Marine division there.

And, finally, from Roanoke Island, three NPG salvos were targeted at the easternmost island – 30 shots in total. This was only preparation. This was unimportant in comparison to what was about to come.

What was coming was planned long ago (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12890393&postcount=30). Five Allanean Airborne divisions were brought in on 120 cargo planes, escorted by about 500 fighters flying in on extended tanks. Generally, this would have been extremely dangerous – but the Allaneans also took another action.

The bombing of the Azahan capital were repeated again. This time, the same aircraft dropped 10,000 tons of cluster bombs on the parts of the city that were not ruined yet. The free cargo space was used to drop 1,500 tons of leaflets on thin rice paper, bearing a simple message:

People of Azaha!

You must know that today, the Questarian government has bombed three San-Nereianan cities, causing a small amount of civilian deaths. This is a retaliation strike for that. Make no mistake: we will continue bombing. Every day, without mercy, without compromise, without surrender. The Allanean aicraft will become a permanent feature of your skies, and the Allanean bomb – a permanent feature of the rest of your lives – and your lives will be short indeed. We will continue killing you. We will slaughter everybody you hold dear.

We Allaneans are held by the world to be butchers, baby killers, decadent scum. This is not good news for you, because it means that we no longer care what the world thinks of us. We are known as the Butchers of Yurka, of Zenti, of Antanjyl, of Aoogah, of Axackal... hundreds of places where leaders who opposed Allanea have died merely because they were not quick enough to scribble their surrender. Often, their people died with them. Be careful, people of Azaha.

Even as the leaflets and submunitions descended upon the Azahan capital, the the skies over the two islands were sprinkled with parachutes. This was going to be [i]brutal.[i/]

: This is long as fuck. OOC Summery will be posted when I read it all.

Kepler's Edge, Northford

Sirens, lots and lots of Sirens. Everywhere, permeating through the eardrums of the highest highest Admiral to the mice that were eating away at the badly packed stores. Moments after the Northfordians had launched their own bombers, reports came in of bombers heading towards the Northfordian Colony. Hysteria followed...

Trying to get a grip of the situation, Admiral Hitchcock withdrew his Cravanian made pistol and shot into the air several times. "CAN WE GET SOME FUCKING CALM HERE PEOPLE?" he roared, scaring those around him in the command room into silence.

"Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?" he asked.

A Radioman spoke up, answering the question "Well, Sir, we've detected bombers, and what look like fighter escorts, too. Heading from the Northeast."

"Any idea of what they're carrying?" asked the Admiral

"Well they know we're here...."

"...so probably Bunker-Bee's, knowing NATO" finished Admiral.

Taking a moment to dust some fallen plaster of his coat, the decided to issue orders.

"Well, let's not piss around here. Throw every plane we've got into the air, including refuelers, and put the fleet to sea. If there's no airstrips for them to land on, have them land on the carriers and sail to Zukariaa, or refuel and get there by air. I've just got off the phone from my counterpart over there, and we're more than welcome.

As for our... strategic weapons... I've had word from the top, Tricker's given the navy a free hand, to hit every target of opportunity. Now, since if our fighters fuck up there's not going to be much left, I suggest we fire them now. What can we hit?”

This time, it was a young female officers chance to respond, who was also trained as a Cartographer. “Well, if we’re talking our ICBM’s-“

“-Do we have anything that isn’t likely to cause MAD, dear?” cut across the Admiral.

“We’ve got 30 ICCM’s here, but most of what we’ve got is ICBM’s, 245 to be total. If we’re not deploying them Sir, we ought to cook them off so the dammed place doesn’t blow.”

“Right.” Replied the Admiral, looking at the clock. “I presume during my rant we’ve started launching the first planes. Tell the Marines to go deep, lowest levels possible. We’ve not got enough ships for them all, and they’ll give whoever decides to land a nice surprise once the shit’s cleared. And speaking of ICBM’s, they’re our suicide switch. If the fuckers decide to land, and we can’t beat them off, this is what they’ll be saying hello to.”

“Right-o Admiral” came the reply.

All across Kepler’s edge, fighters were being launched as fast as they could. Every forty-five seconds a wave of wraiths was being launched, while every 20 seconds a squadron of VTOL Lions was being put into the air. As soon as 2 wings were formed they were being sent towards the enemy, sent to intercept and destroy the bombers.

While this was going on, ships were readying to leave, and the Marine compliment was being congregated at the lowest, and most well protected part of the base. They would be protected from attack, lacking sufficient stocks of food, water and, for that matter, ventilation, there was no guarantee they would be walking away from the war alive… if indeed they managed to get out of the forts at all.

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


Central Command Bunker, Northford


“What the fuck.” Was the sentiment of the cabinet, and the voice of Malcolm Holmes, minister for cultural affairs.

“I’m sorry”, responded Tricker, coolly.

“I’ve had a call that we’ve stuck Millingston, the Capital of Carp’” he said, slightly flustered.

“I authorised limited bombardment of Civilian Targets, yes.” Responded Tricker.

“My fucking wife and kids are over there.” Said Holmes. “They were taking my mother back who was staying a retirement home there, back to Northford.”

The silence in the room was unbelievable, punctured only by the distant hum of a ventilation fan in the corridor.

Continuing, slightly red in the face Holmes asked “I’ve just got it off the Television, it hit a hotel that was housing Northfordian Interns.”

“We have no eyes on the ground at the moment.” Replied Tricker, “If that’s where the Cravanians say it hit, it hit. Lets just hope they’ll rescue them, if they weren’t caught directly in the blast.”

“You fucking Jerk” spat Malcolm, knowing there was a good chance most of his family had just been killed by so-called ‘friendly fire’. “What happened to ‘keeping it clean’?”

“You think we have the luxury of that?” asked Tricker, not making eye contact, “I assure you, if we were not so strategically disadvantaged, I would not have ordered that.”

Breaking for a moment to have a mouthful of water, Tricker continued, now making eye contact.

“I’m sorry. Feel free to take a moment, if you need it.” He said, glancing over to the door.

“Yeah… I think I might do that” muttered the Culture Minister, his eyes starting to well.

‘…Another Minister down….’ mused Tricker to himself.

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

Carpanthium Border, Northford

Stifled only by the cries of unsuspecting civilians, the 750 meters either side of the Northfordian was dead silent. Quite literally, too, the cocktail of weapons fired by the hedgehogs would be lethal to everything except a soldier fully outfitted in CBR gear. Unfortunately, it seemed someone out there was. And it wasn’t just someone from the sounds of it, either.

Calling into his secured fibre optic radio, Private Kelp wasn’t enjoying what he did. Before he joined the army, he did a degree in chemistry at the University of Ripon, and he knew exactly what he was ripping off in there. And it pained him too, since he knew he was killing Northfordians too, after all, the Mortars were directed on both sides of the boarder, with the aim to make the area impassable as possible for any assault.

“This is Kelp. Area secured. No noise”

“Roger that Private, your work is done. Hunker down, pop your lid and get some kip. You’ll be retrieved this time tomorrow when the Beq’s* have gone down to a handlable enough level,” was the reply over the com.

“Thanks, Ma’am” replied Kepler.

Those were his last last words. Whizzing through the air at subsonic speeds an aptly named ‘Building Bashed’ tore into the concrete. It did not fully penetrate the walls of the pill box, but it did not need to: the spalling of the high density concrete was enough to kill him, causing one of the pieces of steel rebar to collapse over his skull. A wonderful ending…

…All over the Northfordian Boarder, similar events were happening, young men who had started the war were meeting an untimely end. Some were killed outright, while others had their CBR suits compromised and met a rather slower end, wailing into the radio for help.

This was not the only thing that was effecting them. While the raids had taken out around 20% of the pillboxes along the boarder, those that survived had to bear the brunt of an altogether different sort of attack. As soon as the last rocket stopped firing, the screams began. Rolling thunder, the sound of a thousand mechanised men breaking through an invisible barrier of chemicals and toxins was approaching and there was nothing the men could do about it. Roars of ‘INCOMING’ were abound, and while those at the brigade and battalion HQ’s further in the Northfordian border were trying in vein calm the men, it did not stop them from firing the mounted heavy machine guns randomly across he border, nor did it stop some of the bolder men to leave their pill boxes with their heavy material rifles to attempt to shoot down the ‘attack’.

After several long moments, and hundreds of thousands of wasted rounds later, the now rather battered line of pillboxes stopped firing. Only upon the illegal launching of several micro-UAV’s by the soldiers did they that believe they were not going to be bearing the brunt of the massive counter attack. Finally, they ‘hunkered down’ for the remaining time they had to be confined, following the pre-arranged “Three-Four-One” patrol routine. It still be several hours before they were relieved.

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

Carpanthium Boarder, Azahan Sector

The Southeast Northford was, by all accounts, a rather militarised zone at the moment. It contained the numerous divisions of mechanised troops that were poised to take part in a rumoured attack on K’stan on the southern boarder, while also containing the bulk of the Azahan compliment along the Carpanthanium boarder.

Upto this point, the aim of the Commonwealth commanders had, largely, been to keep the enemy guessing on what exact roles the two forces would take. It was known that the Northfordians were the better equipped and compared to the other land in the Commonwealth forces, arguably better trained. The Azahans on the other hand were the masters of raw force. Their bulk said enough for that. While there were around 20 million of them based in Northford, in the rush to get them all garrisoned before the outbreak of war, a large majority of the heavy equipment was left behind. After all, the Northfordians could nationalise their Airlines, but passenger jets cannot easily be converted to carry Infantry Fighting Vehicles and Tanks.

In the rush to accommodate their guests, the Northfordians had largely turned their industrial capacity to catering for this force. What they were having trouble bringing with them, they would carry. Although approximately two thirds of the Azahan force was fully equipped, this still left around 7 million men with nothing but pre-prepared hardened Barracks and bases and their personal equipment.

There were several such solutions, although the one that would in the end be implemented proved by far the simplest. Originally, the Northfordians had planned for a quick, dual-fronted war that would see them lead several short pointed attacks into the Cravannic Territory while simultaneously leading a dual pronged attack towards the K’stani Territory, thus gaining the Questarians a land corridor. In planning for this, some months before the pressured announcement by the Northfordian Government, preparatory work was done on the immediate Northfordian Boarder, around 5-10 km inland. The plan was to have as much of the invasion infrastructure ‘in place’ before the combat happened, so most when hostilities were declared it would simply be a matter of pushing buttons.

In this planning however, the Cravanian resistance was grossly underestimated, and as the months dragged on, the plan was largely abandoned. Two aspects remained however, the ‘Hedgehog’ style, and the continuing commitment to expand the network of ‘UrbanSky’s’.

Several months later, however, when the Azahan Garrison was finally confirmed, the plans took a new lease of life. It was expected that there would be problems if hostilities broke out before the first 18 months of mobilisation, with equipment shortages and such things prevalent. In response to this, the Northfordians re-activated the plans, re-code named ‘Clock time’, with the aim to give as many of the under equipped Azahans useful tasks as possible.

The mainstay of ‘Clock time’ was the installation of numerous artillery positions along the Northfordian –Carpanthanium. Particularly along the southern boarder, hundreds of batteries were prepared, semi-hardened and protected by short range SAM networks, housing usually eight ‘Clock Friend’ 240mm heavy howitzers with a complimentary battery of twelve smaller 155 mm howitzers.

The beauty of the idea was in the lack of co-ordination. While the barrels themselves were not fitted to the mounts in peacetime, the mounts, sights and large ammunition reserves were, with most batteries being equipped with enough ammunition with four days of round-the-clock sustained bombardment. Also, another piece of equipment implemented was the ‘Rando-Tilt’, a mounting system which essentially removed the need for skilled artillery operators. In use, it use a series of electric motors to automatically move the barrel by one or two degrees within set limits each time it fired, causing truly random shelling.

All in all, there were 300 Azahan manned Artillery posts in the southern part of the Carpathanium Boarder, and another 50 on the Western part of the boarder.



“Captain, we’ve got the Northfordians on the blower” said the Azahan Private, holding a secured-line radio in his hands.

“Thank you Private” said the Captain, taking the phone.

“This is Captain Calrissian, what can I do for you?” he asked

“Captain, our Kriegos Brothers have opened up the K’stan front, catching them completely by surprise…” said the voice. “…. However, despite this, they’ve left the initial assault several hours later than we expected. All this means we need to get your artillery up and going as soon as humanely possible.”

“Right.” Responded the Azahan, already scribbling down orders and passing them to his aids.

“How long will it take you to get firing?” asked the voice, sounding strained

“About 45 minutes, if we’re unhindered. What’s air superiority like at the moment?”

“…contested.”

“Right.” Responded the Azahan again, quickly thinking through the choices he had with his limited equipment.

“You’ll have your 45 minutes, Captain” said the voice.

And then it was gone, leaving nothing but a mute sound on the phone. Giving it back to the private, he marched out into the ‘Ready Room’ of Azahan operations: An adapted conference hall in an old military hospital.

“Gentleman” he said to those sitting around the room, “We need to move quickly. Get everyone moving, we’re starting the bombardment.”

“So we’ve got the order?” asked an Azahan Commander, one of the most decorated in room.

“Yeah, responded the captain. “Also, get our [Doom’s Attack Choppers] in the air, and get Air to Air missiles on them. Those Northies sounded spooked as fuck, and don’t seem certain they’ll keep us covered.”

“Yes Sir.” Said the Commander who asked the question a few seconds ago.

Several minutes later, the first Helicopters were in the air, scanning their Radar for any airborne target. They would be no match in a dogfight, but at least they were carrying the best Air-to-Air missiles in the Northfordian Inventory so would be able to hit back.

Moments behind, hundreds of Azahan Tanks swarmed through the villages that lined the boarder, going cross-country. Unlike in the Sale area, or the Hogwash, movement here was a lot easier. The sheer number of troop concentrations here meant that as soon as the orders came, the Northfordian Troops went into full overdrive. Armoured vehicles of all types were being deployed, from short range SAM trucks being hidden in wooded areas to Theatre SAMS and Armoured Howitzers being deployed in town and village centres across the south East Haven, with hundreds of UAV’s being launched into the air, looking for enemies.

While the Azahans raced to their batteries, the massed Northford Northfordians divisions waited and watched.

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

South of the city of Sale, Northford

“Foxbat Roger Status”

“Closing on skinnies”

“Orders are to pull back?”

“Pull back?”

“PULL BACK”

“What the fuck?”

“PULL THE FUCK BACK”

Over the horizon racing towards the Northfordian Air Amarda approached hundreds of enemy planes, filling up the radar screens before them. In the seconds before the jets came into Northfordian Medium Air-to-Air missiles, the order was given to retreat, shifting the entire body of fighters southwards towards the Azahan control zone. The radio chatter chilling.

“Why the fuck are we heading south?”

“Yeah Foxbat one has a point. Our orders are to pursue the raiders and to destroy any counter?”

“Who’s got comms to the ground?”

“Wing Commander Charlie.”

“Yes.”, said a low voice, “ I have.”

“Commander” said the voice that belonged to Foxbat one, “Whats happening?”

“We’re being diverted. Ground has told us to ensure the Azahans have got air superiority… for what ever reason.”

“There’s the best part of the Northfordian Army down there, they’ve got SAMS”

“Yes, and we’re going to need them. I don’t know if you realised, but from what I saw on the Radar, we were outnumbered.” Responded the Wing Commander.

“How the FUCK are shitty SAMS going to tell the difference between friend and foe up there?” asked another voice

“They’re not. We’re just there to make sure who ever the fuck up in the air with us is shooting and not them.”

“We’re expendable?”

“No”

“That’s not how it fucking sounds”

“Never gunna give you up
Never gunna let you down
Never gunna run around…


….And desert you” groaned Foxbat one.

Wing Commander spoke to Foxbat one privately, the Second in command of the wing. “Lee, get them motivated.”

“DO WE GIVE UP ON THE COMMANDER?” he roared over the wings’ communication

“NEVER GUNNA GIVE YOU UP” roared the 12 men in the Air Wing back to him

“DO WE LET THE COMMANDER DOWN?” Started Foxbat one, Lee, again.

“NEVER GUNNE LET YOU DOWN” roared the other members.

On the furthest edge of the wing, a wraith screamed past the wing that consisted of lions, temporarily patching himself into the inter-wing Comms.

“And yeah, Lions, I know we’re running, but we ain’t fucking deserting!” he added, laughing to himself and shooting off into the distance.

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

Azahan Corridor, Northford

We’ve all got tasks to do, some just don’t realise quite what they are until after they’ve been completed

Standing at the bridge Captain Swallows watched over the radar screen, his eyes flickering. He was in Command of the Imperium , a Duke Class Heavy Battleship, and the Flagship of the force. A Weapons officer before he went for a Command.

“Targets approaching from the South-East, two forces, Oceanian and Midlonian from the looks of it.”

“Thank you Lieutenant. What’s our position at the moment?” asked the Captain, straining to make sense of the multitude of dots on the screen above.

The Lieutenant spoke, rather quickly. “Good. We’re expecting local air superiority, and should be able to at least get in range of the Cravanians, though thing’s are getting scrappy with the outer pickets. Orders?”

Swallows paused for a second. He was West Northfordian, so had no concern about hitting civilian targets near Carpanthium, however several of his best men were, putting him in a rather difficult position.

“What’s the situation with the picket?” he asked, pacing over to a communications panel.

“Like I said, Sir, Scrappy. Bit iffy, if truth be told. We’re holding them off, and but taking casualties.” Said the Lieutenant, scratching his beard slightly.

“Right. This is what I want to happen. Get the Crestfallen and it’s immediate escorts to hang back and get some air cover over those destroyers. Don’t have them engage with guns, I want us running, so keep it to missiles and planes. As for the Midlonians… well, we’re not stopping with Carp’. Naval HQ’s given us orders to rendezvous with the Questarians. Keep the cruisers popping off long range ASM’s, but keep it light. Keep our attached Subs back and hidden…I want to them to pop up behind the Midlonian fleet and give them a nice surprise.”

“I’ll get them through, Captain.” Said the Lieutenant. “Oh, and Sir, what are we doing about Carp’? Another missile volley?”

“No”, replied the Captain. “Actually… Yes, but only aim one or two more at Millingston, I doubt Tricker’s going to care. Focus on their coasts, go for anything that can berth a ship. Oh, and seeing as it’s the Midlonians that are chasing us, have the Dukes pop the rest of their strategic canisters at the Midlonian landmass to our East.”

“Sir that’s 75 ICCM’s there” said the Lieutenant, looking concernted.

“Yes… I know. Target coastal infrastructure, I want to make sure they’re going to hard time as possibly going back for repairs.”

“Roger” said the Lieutenant, walking out.

And so it began…

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

[Co-written by myself and Cravan]

“You don’t understand-“” he started, pleading.

"What don't I understand? That Northfordian missiles killed about four thousand Cravanian civilians today?" replied the women, circling him as he sat.

“No”, said the man laying down, “I mean about Tricker, he’s-”

"He's what? A war criminal? That's what I'd class the bastard as right now.”

“No, Tricker… he has issues…with civilians… Millingston is in grave danger” he said, coughing.


"Issues with civilians, eh?", Anagrams retorted. "Well he damn well better lose those issues before he makes me even more angry. You do realise he also killed a number of Northfordian civilians in that attack, correct?”

“And if we’re at war, he’s used those hedgehogs too… Northfordian Civilians died there too I should think… you…you don’t understand… LISTEN TO ME” he said, louder, removing the breathing mask on his face.

"I am listening, Mr. Prime Minister.", Elizabeth replied in a soothing voice. "Go ahead, what else do you have to add? I'd love your input, especially in how we can bring that bastard down."

The man lying on the bed chuckled slightly, clutching his chest.

“I’m not telling you so it makes you easier to defeat him” said the man. “I’m telling you because if I don’t, more people will die than either of us need. You can’t evacuate Millingston”

"I know I can't.", Elizabeth said. "And the people damn well can't stay in subway stations the entire time." She sighed, looking down. "Mr. Prime Minister, I have family in Carpanthium, many of them in Millingston. You haven't the faintest idea what that does to you when not only are your citizens in grave danger, but your own family."

“They must. You need to…understand what makes him tick Miss… got to understand.” He said, putting the mask back on to have several gulps of oxygen.

"So may I ask exactly what that would be?", she asked. "Because at this point in time I haven't the slightest idea of what goes on in a military man's mind. I'm a politician, after all."

“You need to understand what made him go from the Military into Politics in the first place.” Said the man, his voice now muffled behind the mask one more.

"Really? What was the catalyst there? I know most military men hate politics and everything they represent."

“The GASN.” Said the man, half smiling, “The GASN escort force was the brain child of the rather young Commander James Tricker. He spent half his time clamouring politicians to make sure the thing was funded by Northford, and the other half sitting in shipyards talking to captains.”

Elizabeth smiled to herself for a moment. "Ah. The GASN. So I take it he cosied up to many of the GASN's top officials, yes?"

“Something like that. As the years went on he spent less and less time at the Navy. He divorced his wife… he put so much time into the GASN, so much time into making sure Northford was seen as the greatest protector the link that held them together-“

“-Trade-“ interrupted Elizabeth

“-Yes. For a while, I’m sure he was almost deluded into believing he was keeping the GASN together. I’m not going to write him off buy saying he did nothing… as we can both attest the escort force must of saved us hundreds of billions of Dollars over the years. I remember the letter he sent me when Northford did not put itself up for a place in the council.”

“"Yes, well... With his close work with the GASN, I would assume he got to know officials from the organization fairly well, correct?"”

“I suppose he would, thinking about it. I can’t give you the names though… your people should be good enough at that.” Said Brookes, taking off the mask once again.
"I would also assume that, what with GASN dissolving, Tricker is fairly bitter at its failure?"

Talking more clearly, the man sat up in his chair a bit.

“God know. He was bitter with Northford, for a good while for not putting us forward to the council, and he was very, very bitter at some people in the GASN itself for not putting Northford up anyway.”

Clearing his throat a little, he continued.

“No, no. After the council finally sorted itself out, he withdrew from GASN politics and became much more interested in the Navy actually. He oversaw the development of Red bridge, the first ‘Modern’ city in Northford. You must remember it?”

"Red Bridge? Yes, I remember it quite well. One of Cravan's first foreign-based naval bases. The rest of our bases were all in territory claimed way back when, but Red Bridge was special. It marked the beginning of Northfordian-Cravanian relations. Then again, at the time, I was but only beginning my political career. I had little to do with it at that point."

“Yeah…” said the man, who for the first time in the meeting had shown a look of discontent. “Well, you’ll remember the video of the Nuke falling on it. I was with Tricker then, on the Leviathan, what with it being the last ship to leave. If that moment doesn’t explain his willingness to attack Millington, then I don’t quite know what will.”

Elizabeth sighed, stretching as she looked out the window at the bustling street far below. "You know, I still can't believe it deteriorated to this point. When I stepped into office, I expected a fairly easy time. Peace was widespread... Empire hadn't been in a major conflict in over a hundred years." She chuckled. "I guess I'm that one lucky politician. At least the history books won't forget about me."

“You’ve got no idea”, said Brookes, his chest almost not feeling painful for the first time in days. “When I got into power, Northford didn’t know half the world existed, half of it’s GDP was related to agriculture and the ‘Internet’ was something small children called the things their pet spiders made.”

Half-laughing, he said “48 years I’ve been doing this job.”

Elizabeth softened up, laughing slightly. "Well, I'm at least glad to say I've not been in the business that long.", she replied. As the mood lightened, she realised their conversation had gotten slightly off track. "In any case...", she said, clasping her hands behind her back and beginning to pace again. "The civilians in Millingston. What can I do? What can be done to put a stop to Tricker?"

“Short of several dozen Tactical Nuclear weapons?” asked Brookes rhetorically. “Not much. I’m not going to tell you exactly where, but the Central Command Bunkers under Richmond, so that sort of renders your average bunker buster’s redundant. The ‘scapers that it’s under are especially re-enforced too, so you see even those falling hammer what-de-doo’s I’ve seen on the news wouldn’t be all that helpful unless you knew exactly where. And besides even if you did know where it was… you know Northford has possibly the worlds largest underground Cave system? Let’s just say there’s more boltholes than a Clandonian Peasant’s rabbit hutch. No, No…quite unassailable is his position at the moment.”

Moving so he had the clearest view of the women in the room with him, he said slowly

“I think in the end Mr Tricker’s personality will be quite enough to destroy him.”

"That's exactly what I intend, Mr. Brookes.", Elizabeth responded. "This sort of war is not won with bullets alone. For only people die from bullets. Ideas, on the other hand..."

Elizabeth paced more, contemplating what to confront the suffering man before her with next. She felt sympathy for him, and yet she also knew that the only way to get specifics would be to break him down emotionally. Something she was not willing to do the hard way. She would continue to prod the elder man before her, finding his limits and taking note of them for future conversations, particularly for others to get information out of him, such as ex-Emperor Craven who had stayed behind in Laurana when the bombs began to fall.

"So what else did you people have planned for Millingston which I should be aware of?", she asked, hoping for a positive response. "Any way I can save lives now, I will. For now this is a defensive war, and my objective in a defensive war is the preservation of civilian life. And that includes Cravanians, Carpanthians, Northfordians, and anyone else who's in the hot zone."

Brookes sighed, looking over at the heart monitor that beeped almost silently in the background. She still didn’t quite get what he was trying to say.

“Millingston”, he started, “was never a target when I overseeing invasion plans. That I can assure you of without a shadow of a doubt. Correct me if I’m wrong, but it wasn’t Cravanians that attacked first was it?”

"No. It wasn't. It was Illiorian and Azazian forces based in Carpanthium who responded to the opening shots fired by the Questarians in the Strob. You can blame them for all this, I suppose."

Elizabeth again took a breath before speaking, thinking over her next statements carefully. She would continue pressing the issue of Millingston, however begin to drift further away from that issue until finally hitting upon why the Northfordians were even involved.

"Despite not originally having Millingston in your battle plans, which I do believe you... Surely you know Tricker well enough to know what he would be more likely to strike. Unless I'm right in my estimations and he's just some military officer off his rocker with no regard for human life..."

“off his rocker?” asked Brookes, quite seriously. “On the contrary, if any body is rocking right now, Miss, it would be him. And, if you haven’t already guessed, it’s not lack of regard for human life, it’s contempt for civilian life that drives him underneath it all I think. Think back to what you saw on the Televisions screens that fateful night in Redbridge when the nukes were falling. Elizabeth, think back.”

"In all honesty at the time I only saw several news reports the day after. Didn't catch the nuking itself.", she remarked. "How a man could be so twisted by that, though...", she said, cutting herself off. "So other than hitting him with nuclear weapons, which is not an option at this time, is there a way to bring him down without killing people? A way to wrench Northford out from beneath his fingertips?"

Sighing once again, Brookes spoke. “That’s… a shame. Fact is, Brookes blames civilian’s for bringing down Redbridge, and everything he worked for… he’s got a vendetta… best thing to do is not present targets and hope he burns out before Millingston does.”

Elizabeth's face contorted to a look of disappointment, knowing full well Brookes could probably give her more info, however she decided to not push the fragile man. She would need him later. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Prime Minister. I am sure we will see each other in the near future.", she said. "If you'll excuse me, though, I have a meeting with His Majesty in twenty minutes in the palace, and thus I must be going. It's been a pleasure, Mr. Brookes."

Elizabeth left the room briskly, thankful for the little bit of information she had been able to acquire. It, and any other information she could get, would be crucial in the coming weeks.


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

“Sir?… Sir?…Sir” said a women, pausing only to make sure the man was breathing.

Jolting back to life, Tricker shot upright, seeming to punch himself in the chest.

“How long have I been out?” he asked, looking around the room, trying to get his vision straight.

“About an hour. We’ve been looking for you maniacally Sir. Reports have come in of missiles hitting us.”

Standing up, Tricker swayed slightly on the spot. “Private, I’m heading down to the infirmary. Prepare a report for me, quickly, and send it down there.”

“Yes Sir” she said, looking over as the Admiral walked out.

Leaving his private study, Tricker raced down to the command bunkers infirmary, several levels below, holding his hand over his lower ribs the whole time. Arriving there minutes later, he limped into his private waiting room.

“Doctor” he said, as a man he recognised well walked in. “I’ve blacked out.”

Looking slightly concerned, the Doctor simply picked up his clipboard. “How little sleep have you had?”

Talking slowly, he sad “Not including the 2 hours I’ve just blacked out in, about 3 in the last 72.”

The Doctor raised his eyebrows slightly, but nevertheless continued. “I presume you’re using stimulants?”, he asked.

“Yes,” started Tricker, “ I’ve been running off Naval Stimpacks for the last-“

“-Naval Stimpacks? The Adamfcaf mix?” interrupted the doctor

“Yeah, that’s right.. Adrenaline, Amphetamine and Caffeine.”

“Jesus Tricker…that shits designed to give you the extra 24 hours…at most. No wonder you’ve burnt out. Quite frankly, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

Looking at the doctor, Tricker glared at him. “I need 12 more hours Doc. Don’t tell me to go to sleep.”

“There’s nothing I can do for you, nothing whatsoever.” Said the Doctor. “You’re not getting any younger, so I wouldn’t fancy cracking open a couple of vials of Brain Stimulants.”

“Brain stimulants?” asked Tricker, smiling slightly.

Walking over to a locked cupboard on the wall, the Doctor took a label out of a box. “Read this”, he said quietly.

‘Side effects include rashness, irritability and instability. Loss of consciousness can ensue, as can coma’s and seizures. Prolonged use can result in brain damage, paraplegia and even death.

Having read the sheet, Tricker just wanted to know one thing.

“How much can you give me?” he asked, his green eyes half glazed over.

Quite worried at his reaction, and the fact the leader of his country could soon be led by an ‘unstable’ man, the Doctor quickly decided common sense was his best friend.

“I’d say 1/5 dose would be pushing it, considering…after all, this shit is usually given to people coming out of Coma’s and Car crashes, get the wheels workin’, you know..”

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

Command Room, Central Bunker, Northford

“…one third of our ship berthing capacity, in fact pretty much everything not in the Ripon Channel. Our shipyards in Azaha and Aunesia are still working at full capacity. Also, they’ve knocked out 15% of our Steelworks along the Eastern Seaboard, and softened nearly all of our stationary Air-defence networks, though they’re being more than replaced by the mobile cover provided by the 3rd and 12th Air Brigades. “

Tricker wasn’t happy, that was for sure. The brain stimulants certainly had an effect, his vision was clearer, and his mind was quick. Further, apart from the fact he was sweating rather more than normal, there was no outward signs of what had happened, and, unlike the Navalstims, there was no need to periodically squeeze the bag of solution into his veins.

Clearing his throat slightly, Tricker cut across. “Why didn’t we intercept?”

“Well, we did. Their ECM got the better of us, though, and around a 2/3 weren’t even detected, and for the most part by the time we fired missiles they were on the return leg anyway.”

“Well that’s fucking great isn’t it?” said Tricker, slightly perplexed at the looks he was getting for swearing. “Any idea of what we did to them?”

“None, Sir”, said the intelligence officer.

“Fantastic.” Replied Tricker.

“Also, Sir, we’ve had word from our Brothers in Kriegorgrad that they have finally kickstarted the war on the K’stan front… in case you didn’t know, what with being out for that hour, things really are going off on one. The Crown Imperium’s going off on one, and we’re not awful sure of much else. Do we have confirmation to implement our pre-arranged plan?”

“Shoot.” Replied Tricker, not really paying attention.

“Would the fact the Allanean’s are…fighting dirty effect anything?” said the women, clicking the pen in her hand

“Leave it to our Kriegos Brothers. Tell the boys: ‘if in doubt, shoot twice’” said Tricker, walking out of the room.

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

Newport, West Northford

Sitting at the very edge of Northfordian Territory, it was only natural that the city of Newport would become a fortress at the outbreak of any war. Covered by Barrage balloons, it’s own army group, as well as its own naval fleet in port, it served as the principle city in the west, and was the home of the West Northfordian Regional Council.

At the Western Northford Command Post, Admiral Guy’s was having the time of his life. He’d wanted to watch the invasion of K’stan for a long: Ever since his family home was demolished to make room for boarder fortifications he had a long urge to see the ‘Threat’ to Northford removed.

And today, he had his chance to play a roll in letting that happen. In Western Northford, by far the least densely populated part of Northford, approximately 40% of the land was owned by the Ministry for Defence and the Army, Navy and Airforce was headed up jointly in the ‘West Northfordian Command’, which was operated by the Navy.

At the outbreak, very little actually happened. There was no preplanned shelling of boarder defences, no initial air raids using the amassed bombers that were garrisoned on the west side, and no ICCM strikes. Indeed, from the Northfordian end, the idea that war had broke out at all seemed rather surprising.

As the battle on the Strobovia Strait hotted up, however, the uneasy peace had finally broke over K’stan, with the Kriegos blitzkrieg starting in the south, opening up another front in the war. Starting with a massive missile strike, they crippled the south of the country. Again, however, the Northfordians just waited and watched, allowing the southern blitzkrieg to wreak it’s havoc upon the nation.

With the order from the Central Command bunker, however, this all changed.

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

Western Northfordian Command Centre

Unlike other Command Bunkers, the Western Northfordian Command was not underground. It was considered that in the most militarised part of Northford (barring the recently mobilised Carpanthium Boarder), with 24/7 Electronic Warfare and AWACS patrols, constant naval patrols and several divisions dedicated solely to Air Defence. This all of course meant that the only viable ways to stand a chance of actually hitting it was by Kinetic attacks (so called ‘God Rods’), or with Tactical Nuclear weapons.

Typical, then that the Western Command would house Northford’s only Kinetic Weapons…

…On a day like today, however, Admiral Guy’s did not really care about subtle ironies or little jokes. Sitting in his office, he was busy typing orders to the various departments that were contacting him via NMC Messenger, another little quirk of the Command. Unusual, yes, but quite the necessity: Three years ago, the Admiral modified a Seminole Class Corvette to house a single 25” gun. He was onboard when the test gun fired, and subsequently became Paraplegic.

‘Nuff said.

NMC: Northfordian Military Communications.

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

<Guys>Got Orders
<Captain Bens> Huh Sir?
<Guy’s> Orders. We’re popping K’stans Northfordian Cherry.
<Captain Bens> lol, when?
<Guy’s>?
<Guy’s> Now, Noob.

==<Guy’s> has invited <Captains Shauns>, <Captain Chambers>,<Commodore Dodge> to the Conversation==

<Guy’s> Sup.
<Commodore Dodge> Whats up?
<Guy’s> We’re doing the dirty to K’Stan.
<Captain Chambers> Oh.
<Guy’s> Yeah.
<Guy’s> I’m ordering you to get to Sea. I want our subs blockade their coasts, long range-ish…300km out.
<Captain Shauns> Guess that’s my orders.

==<Captain Shauns has left the Conversatiob==

<Guy’s>Kinetic Strikes

==<Commodore Dodge> has invited <General Loans> to the Coversation==

<General Loans> Wut?
<Commodore Dodge> Sorry I had to get the Jerkoff in Guy’s, I ain’t got authorisation for that
<Commodore Dodge> Loans, we’re doing Kinetics…
<General Loans> Awh Fuck, it’s Guy’s…
<General Loans> Still sitting in your own piss?
<Guy’s> Stfu General, or I’ll have your ass infront of a Tri-force panel for being an all-round-titwank.
<Captain Chambers> Lol.
<Guy’s> Loans, do me some Kinetic Strikes: Infrastructure along the coast. I wanna knock out their ability to stop us blockading them
<General Loans> Defence Batteries etc?
<Captain Ben’s> See, the Army have Brains too!
<Guy’s> Yeah, that an AA.
<General Loans> Roger.

==<General Loans> has left the conversation==

<Guy’s> Moving on, Chambers, I want you to head up a Taskforce, about 20 Flotilla’s. Call it… Taskforce G to keep in line with Questarian codes. I want you to lock down the sea’s west of us. Make it a venerable dead zone between Questers and ourselves.
<Captain Chambers> Sub killing?
<Guy’s> That, and NATO powers have got a few isolated Battle groups running around out there. You’ve got a free reign from anything not in the Channel, but keep ship No’s under 1000.
<Captain Chambers> Right-o, Sir. Anything else?
<Guy’s> No, that’s all.
<Captain Chambers> Roger.

==<Captain Chambers> has left the Conversation==

<Guy’s> Commodore, Feel up to leading the main taskforce?
<Commodore Dodge> And what, My Good Sir, would that involve?
<Guy’s> Usual Shit… land hugging, bombardment, attempting to taking out their fleets.
<Commodore Dodge> Alright. What’s my poison?
<Guy’s> The 3 rd Taskfleet
<Commodore Dodge> Oh, Sweet.
<Guy’s> Yeah… that, and try and link up with the Kriegos Ships.
<Commodore Dodge> Roger that, Sir.

==<Commodore Dodge> has left the Conversation==

<Guy’s> Everyone else, get yourselves ready. If everything goes to plan, I’m going to run a couple of amphibious invasions.

==<Guy’s> has left the Conversation==

==Conversation Ended==

===

The defenders of Kahanistan were not professional soldiers as such; those would come later. Instead, the defence of the northern border was a hodgepodge of military bases, surface-to-air missile and self-propelled AA batteries, as well as some artillery and Dartian Diablo tanks, with huge barricades of razor-sharp concertina wire nets covering large numbers of anti-personnel and anti-tank land mines, as well as laser-beam tripped short-range SAM's capable of knocking out a helicopter or low-flying aircraft. The first line of defence was operated by six hundred thousand reservists, weekend warriors under the command of Lieutenant General Gunther von Mannhard, a 53-year-old veteran of the Doomani wars, who had insisted that the troops themselves be massed one hundred kilometers from the Northfordian border to avoid provoking them to attack - a political move to make it plain if war broke out just who the aggressors were.

The reservists had, of course, had combat training. However, this was the first time Kahanistan had deliberately avoided urban warfare except as a last resort, the idea being to neutralize the enemy before they got to population centers, where they could do a lot of damage with long-range artillery. Historically, the defenders of Kahanistan would simply hole up in their cities, where they had taken provisioning for long sieges to an art form. Only time would tell how their new strategies would unfold.

On top of a hill due south of where UAV's flying in northern Kahanistan, north of the first line, had delivered notice of a Northfordian troop movement, a lone young man with a high-grade telescope spied soldiers and vehicles moving around. No fucking way... Kahanistan didn't have troops on that side of the defences for political reasons, just UAV's for advance warning of an invasion.

The damned bastards are attacking us... Well, Reserve Private James Snider, age 19, now knew what the Northfordian military buildup he'd heard so much blather on in the news was for. James also knew that he had never shot anyone in his life, or even hunted before. Of course, he had trained with a weapon before, but there is a very strong psychological inhibition to killing that doesn't always train out of people, especially reservists. And to a second-year biology student at Kahanistan National University who was studying to become a doctor, to save lives... killing was just unthinkable.

The young man ran down the hill to his trench, via a narrow path through the wire and land mines that connected the long, jagged pit to an artificial hill from which he had just scoped, and told his commanding officer. (The trench was jagged to protect against enfillade fire.)

Reserve Captain Avigdor Zimmerman shook his head. Shit. He adjusted his trousers, which had come undone while he was relieving his male urges inside of a female camp follower, and picked up his Hali-53 assault rifle, modified to hold a Kahanistanian M86 500mm switchblade bayonet, whose wicked toothed blade was modeled on that of the Doomani Gladius Doomanus but with smaller teeth to be able to extend and retract within the attachment. "Damn Fordies... know how to ruin a man's good time," the officer grumbled in his southern Israeli accent.

Captain Zimmerman was no better suited to combat than the young scout. 23 years old, a recent graduate of the University of Kahanistan - Najaster (now the University of Kahanistan at Metzuda) and not the military academy, with a BA in history, he was a teacher at West Dar al-Babil High School. He had at least shot someone, though, even if it was a drunken lunatic who tried to shoot up his school, and even if he merely paralysed the attacker. (Kahanistan did not have any sort of legislation banning firearms from schools. Neither did Allanea, for that matter - one of Kahanistan's closest allies.)

The officer peered out of his trench with Snider's telescope, before shaking his head and donning his NBC suit. While more professional soldiers of the Republic Guard would have been wearing it 24/7, the less disciplined reservists couldn't bear the heat. There was no information as to whether or not the Northfordians had chemical weapons, though if they were invading they almost certainly had NBC armament.

Within minutes, the entire stretch of trench had similarly prepared for battle.

---

Along the western side was the bulk of the Kahanistan Republic Navy, under the command of Fleet Admiral Carl Jenkins, veteran of the Kraven, Pwnage, Doomani, and Hatarian wars. Jenkins' fleet was concentrated on the west, away from the more strategically important (to the Questarian Commonwealth, not Kahanistan) Strobovian Strait; he had only two heavy battleships, thirty submarines, fifty destroyers, and 118 frigates, whereas on the west he had no less than sixty warships that could be called heavy battleships, including many imports (http://www.forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=528835) from Mer des Ennuis and over thirty Emmanuel Goldstein class heavy battleships, not to mention over 100 Isselmerian-made cruisers and over 500 destroyers, in addition to numerous missile boats, submarines, and coastal defence artillery.

Jenkins' orders were merely to keep the western shipping lanes open, and his orders to his eastern fleet under command of Vice Admiral Titus Sutonius were to destroy as many QC warships as possible before retreating into the range of his coastal artillery.

Smithys Wine Bar, New Theeb Harbour, New Theeb, Vetaka, Lazaurs Region:

The sun shone brightly over New Theeb as the gentle breeze blew in across New Theeb balancing the temperature and the climate out making it perfect to relax within it. Simthy’s Wine Bar was in actual fact a Hotel and Whore House all built into one. Run by Victoria Smith a beautiful women whom was tall and slender with a perfect figure that ozzed sexual attraction her long blonde hair hung down in curls and her blue eyes where full of innocence and peace. Vicky or Smithy as she was known had originally been one of the many Freedom Fighters of the Vetakan Civil War, she had been present and had fought during the Battle of New Theeb and the Seige of the Palace. Seeing much death and destruction during the War upon Vetakan Independence Vicky retired and set up Smithys Wine Bar back then it had just been that a Wine Bar but as time progressed and with profit after profit Vicky had expanded her business building Hotel Rooms, Dance Floors, Bars and most recently a Cat House. Prostitution in Vetaka was legal but it was very regulated most believed this to be immoral but Crime Figures regarding Violence towards Prostitutes was amongst the lowest in the world.

Smithys Wine Bar was legendary amongst Sailors and Naval Personnel around the world. Ships that docked in Vetaka be they Military Ships, Merchant Ships and Civilian Ships that where on R&R, Stop Over, Maintence and Re-Supply would often remain within Theeb Harbour for at least a night as result the Crews wanting to seek a good night and good women would probably start their Adventure of Fun in Smithy’s Bar most would live out that Adventure in Vicky’s Establishment and those whom dared adventure further into the City would most proably end their adventure within Vicky’s most brilliant Bar. Their was something about the atmosphere in Vickys Bar that attracted the business it was one of relaxation and fun. It was a 24 Hour Operation one that followed a timetable. From 4am Breakfast was served with Breakfast Food from around the world served not to mention the Legendary Vetakan Oatcake Range that traced its origins back to Staffordshire in England. Breakfast was served until midday when a worldwide lunch and afternoon menu was served this ran until around 19:00 when a Worldwide Evening Meal took over this ran till around midnight when the kitchen closed however this didn’t mean Smithys closed far from it, it was now that the various bars and dance floors broke into life and when the Cats of the Night and Erotic Dancers came out to entertain and the true Thrill of Excitement began.

New Theeb itself was a rather modern city only being some twenty or so years old, its Harbour was the Largest in Vetaka not only being a major stop off Point for passing Ships but also for being the Homeport of the 1st Vetakan Battlegroup and the 1st Vetakan Army. The Harbour itself backed on to the Cultural Quarter of the City and also joined the New Theeb University Campus. Smithys Bar was almost waterfront however between the Bar and the harbour was green lawn that was fully owned by Vicky to which she used for Garden Parties and to which many off duty Vetakan Service Personnel from the military used to play cricket and football.

In times of peace like today New Theeb Harbour was directed and run by a Civilian Harbour Master in this case it was Mark Holt and as per Marks personal schedule he always had has dinner with Vicky in her bar where they often discussed the Harbours daily happenings upon failing this they usually discussed Vetakan Politics in this case the topic of conversation was the ongoing QC-NATO Conflict. Vicky and Mark where not alone today they where joined by a second female Susan Donliland a Journalist working for the number one Vetakan Newspaper “The New Theeb Discover” all three of them had gone to school together, all three of them where best friends and all three had followed and captured lived their dreams. Today the three of them sat at a table looking out across the Harbour and the Front Lawn which was today the sight of a Cricket Match. Munching on Oatcakes the mood was calm and full of laughter chatting away the three of them listened to the song “Journey, Don’t Stop Believing”:

“Just a small town girl, livin in a lonely world”

“The Questarians are standing tall and proud especially after that terrible and barbaric attack by the Allaneans” spoke Vicky her voice taking on a stern tone.

“The Questarian response was rather unexpected I thought, very restrained on the Questarian part after all they could of just nuked them” replied Susan whilst she played with her Bacon and Cheese Oatcake.

Mark began to speak only to stop due to a roar of shouts and applause from the Lawn looking over the three of them observed one of the Cricket Players hit a fantasic Six sending the ball hurtling out into the water of the harbour. The Cricket Players and the crowd cheered and laughed as another ball was sourced. Mark smiled and remained silent observing the Players embrace each other, laugh at eachother and generally enjoy eachothers company. After a few seconds Mark turned to look at his friends his voice now becoming rather philosophical:

“Its hard to imagine those guys out their playing cricket are at war, The guys batting are Questarian, The Guys fielding are Midlonian”

“Streetlight people, living just to find emotion”

Mark chuckled slightly before continuing:

“The Questarians are now down by 300 Runs, They have just started mind im sure they will catch up. The Questarian Guys are from a Questarian Cargo Ship the Midlonians the same. They both came in this morning for Rest and Relaxation”

A single tear ran down Vickys face she wasn’t usually emotional but witnessing these guys play cricket was oddly beautiful:

“That is what Vetaka is about, Peace, If these Guys can come together and play cricket anything can happen”

"Dont stop believin
Hold on to the feelin
Streetlight people"

Until the philosophy which hold one race superior
And another inferior
Is finally
And permanently
Discredited and abandoned
Everywhere is war
Me say war.

-Bob Marley, "War"

******************************

Carpanthian-Northfordian Border

The sounds of combat below, or artificial combat as the Northfordians had come to realise not more than a few minutes ago, served as excellent cover for an overflight of a Cravanian remote UAV, flying low and as fast as its little propellor could send it through the air to avoid detection. The buzz of its motor was concealed by the Midlonian speakers, leaving the only possible method of detection by sight, and the UAV's small, white frame helped conceal it from the human eye further.

Several kilometers behind the border, the Leonidas command and control vehicle which had launched it lay in its entrenched ditch, its communications gear sticking out slightly from above the bank. The surrounding forest made it near invisible from overhead, while camo netting spread around allowed it to blend in with its surroundings. Of course the moment word of an attack came the command vehicle would exit the wood to the nearby highway and retreat past the set of barricades which would be dropped behind it. Simple yet large poured concrete blocks, hedgehogs (Not submarine weapon type like is being used. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Czech_hedgehog)), barbed wire, and essentially anything else that could be used as a barricade against oncoming armored elements and infantry escort. These barricades would be moved across the roadway at both wide and narrow points by engineering crews, and as one defensive line was put in the crews would retreat back further to put another in at a predetermined location. Mountain passes which could be used to bypass the main roads were filled with rocks and debris beforehand, and travel to the various mountain bases was now done almost solely by helicopter and footpaths. Limited preparation for mining the roadway was also planned, however Cravanian forces were never too fond of using landmines.

However, for now the Leonidas's job was simple: scout the border and plot Northfordian positions on the northern side of the mountains as accurately as possible while satellite support was not availiable. By this time the next satellite which would pass over would be in position within a half-hour's time, however time was of the essence now. A UAV was seen as expendable, and whatever information it could render in its short flight would be more information than Allied forces already had.

************************

The following is an email sent to Minister Malcolm Holmes at the time of the attack on July 13, 2007 standard calendar.


To Mr. Malcolm Holmes

Dear sir:

It is with great remorse today that I must inform you that your wife has been listed as killed in the recent Northfordian assault on Millingston. Her body was found approximately twenty minutes ago in the ruins of the west wing of the Imperial Suites Hotel, one floor above the point of impact of the ICCM. Her remains are currently being kept at the Northern Millingston Care Center morgue, where they will stay until a decision can be made on what action to take with them.

At the time your wife had been the first of her party who had been interned in the hotel to be processed, and thus was in her room at the time awaiting the arrival of the other members of her party. I would like to personally assure you of the safety of your mother and children, who are currently being sheltered in a civilian bunker underneath Millingston for the duration of armed conflict, for their own safety. The bunker has been rented for use in sheltering interned Northfordians and, although perhaps not as luxurious as the originally intended holding area, it is much safer from further bombardment.

I understand your loss, however I have been asked by my government to petition you to action in your own government. The civilians of Millingston are innocent non-combatants, and it is a downright despicable tactic to target them specifically. I am sure you had nothing to do with the order yourself, however I ask you to please use whatever influence you may have in your cabinet to stop the bombardment. I know it would be hard for a man who has just lost as much as you have, but my objective is the prevention of further loss. If you could please do something in your power to end this madness, the Carpanthian people would be eternally grateful.

I will be availiable at this address, and if you feel the need to contact me feel free. If at some point you wish to speak to your mother or children, it can easily be arranged via email.

My sympathies are with you and with the countless Northfordian families this evening wondering in fear if their loved ones in Carpanthium are safe. Please, take care and keep in touch.

Thomas C. Janson
Carpanthian Minister of Emergency Control

*********************

The skies over southern and central Carpanthium in the regions near the border were filled with fighters on patrol, laying low and using the stealth abilities which had since become infamous among Questarian squadrons for allowing the Archons and Opinicuses to come at them from any angle. Cravanian pilots used simple small-unit based swarm tactics, using superior maneuverability and stealth to their advantage.

Exactly what they planned if the Northfordians made a bid to cross the border. Oceanian squadrons further north had spooked them south, and thus the wave of Space Union produced aircraft sped towards the southern areas of Northford, towards Azahan emplacements. The few squadrons of Archons and Opinicuses in the air patrolling at that time watched warily via feeds from IAL-4 AWACS support craft who circled over central Carpanthium in addition to ground based search radars.

Ensign Emma Darby, callsign Witchcraft, guided her Opinicus into formation with her flight lead, its gray baseline paint scheme accented by the pearly white stripes outlined in royal blue running across its wings and down its fuselage. The 65th Tactical Fighter Squadron "Angelion" formed wingtip to wingtip, cruising just above the treetops.

"Flight lead, Witchcraft. I'm picking up mass movements of hostile aircraft across the border from northeast to southwest.", the young pilot said in a rather noticeable Carpanthian accent, her siren-like voice echoing through the radio channel.
"I copy on that one, Witchcraft.", Captain Felix Weatherstone responded. also distinctly Carpanthian. "Keep to the route, and continue to lay low. They won't see us, but we'll damn well see them if they try and rush across. And if not us, our pals down the line will see them, eh?"
"Roger on that one, lead."

Eight Angelion Opinicuses continued in their formation in two groups of four, one forward and to the left of the other. Ensign Darby was in the lead group.

"Lead, what d'you suspect'll happen if they decide to charge across when we're not ready?"
"We'll have enough of an element of surprise on them they'll not know what the bloody hell it was that hit 'em first time around. They've never encountered these babies before, considering first combat debut was just north in the Strob. I hear our boys and gals up there are giving the Questarians a run for their money.", Weatherstone replied.
"Well let's do the same down 'ere, shall we?", responded Darby.

Emma glanced down from the sky before her, looking at a picture of her mother.

Her late mother, thanks to the Northfordian strike on Millingston.

"I'll not forget you, mum...", she whispered to herself, raising her gloved hand to touch the image taped sloppily to the console. A tear rolled down her cheek as her emerald eyes swelled. She fought back the wave of emotion, instead taking her mind off of her late mother and focusing on her objective.

Reclaim the will to fight...

"Witchcraft, you're drifting. You okay, kiddo?"
"Yeah, lead... Just thinking."
"Hey...", Weatherstone replied. "It'll be alright. We'll get them."
"Yeah... Thanks.", came the simple reply.

... To fight for the ones you love.

HMS King George
Strobovia Strait

"Captain Richardson's formation is being engaged once more, Admiral."

Osborne nodded, his own eyes having already found the blips on the plotting table. Richardson's formation was performing its duty, expending itself and in the process the munitions of what were likely submerged Commonwealth assets. With the picket formation reduced to mere escorts, there was nothing but over a thousand kilometres of open sea between Osborne's capital ships and the Commonwealth fleet. In hours the picket units would be within range and he would watch thousand more blips both red and blue translate into thousands upon thousands of deaths all of one pale colour.

HMS Victorious
Strobovia Strait

Klaxons sounding off throughout the corridors and compartments had become a sad affair; however, once the airborne and surface-borne radar pickets had detected the inbound missiles, there was little left for the officers and ratings to attend other than their duties.

Escorts began to ripple fire almost their whole missile batteries. Aboard the HMS Granite, the forward VERSYL vertical launch block let loose its last twenty-four missiles covering the forecastle in grey smoke reminiscent of the name stenciled upon her stern. The trainable point-defence missile units pivoted and began to fire their own missiles at those that entered their much smaller field of fire. In the superstructure, however, one of frigate's Cormorant helicopters already aloft radioed in a surface contact, probably a periscope and then followed it up by a report of a surfaced submarine.

"Tell Red Three to engage, vector Red One to support but keep Two in reserve. Navigator, when missile fire is complete, plot an intercept course, all available speed."

Similarly along the engagement zone, Cormorant and their smaller Sea Falcon counterparts began to race towards the launch areas of the latest round of submerged missile launches. The first wave of missiles had admittedly caught the formation by surprise, submerged forces were expected--the UK had its own in the Strait--but it had been thought engagement would be at shorter ranges.

Now, however, the formation was ready, and the long-legged Cormorants, backed up by the shorter-ranged Sea Falcons, were quickly dropping buoys in v-shaped patterns listening for the telltale signs of submerging submarines, hoping to use the pattern to triangulate positions, depths, courses, and speeds. Like those of the Granite pursuing a confirmed target, the helicopters were equipped with the deep-diving, high-speed Skate light-weight torpedo. The Cormorants carried four, the Sea Falcons only two. But with thirty-seven in the air, most from the escorts with the carriers' helicopters occupied by ferrying survivors and stores between ships, it left enough torpedoes to potentially sink several submarines.

In the air, however, there were simply not enough missiles left to fend off such a concerted attack. Aboard the Victorious, Richardson felt each tumultuous shake and violent shudder as the Questarian missiles found their targets in droves. The sheer number detected precluded any change of salvation save a heavenly miracle, and Richardson was not a religious man. He headed out of operations and walked down a corridor towards his cabin, several times thrown to his feet while a steam pipe burst above his head, scalding his arm while another nearer his cabin managed to break his other.

He pushed open the hatch and found his way into a compartment littered with shattered frames and tattered memories. He had once had the privilege of meeting the King at a Royal Navy dinner, the picture, like the one of his wife and son, lay upon the cold metal, covered in shards of glass that sparkled in the flickering light. Then that light went dim, a missile from somewhere plunging through the holed and no-longer stable structure until it hit the main machinery room. And while Oceanian ships were built with backup generators outside the main machinery compartments, those too had been blown apart by warheads and masses of steel.

Richardson picked up the picture of his wife, feeling a quick prick from a shard of glass, the blood oozing down his finger--an odd sensation if only because he could not see the red liquid. He let a tear collect at the corner of his eye, caused by both the realisation of her loss and his and the sudden searing pain he had heretofore ignored in his arms and his legs. And then a missile slammed into a neighbouring compartment.

HMS King George
Strobovia Strait

"All signals from the Victorious have ceased, Admiral. Sea Sprites, Falcons and Cormorants remain in the air while several missiles have fallen back upon the escorts. Seven left, sir, and their captains are reporting complete expenditure of primary missile systems. They are left only with close-in-defence systems, point-defence missile units and their guns."

"Very well, Lieutenant. Please relay the information to the Admiralty and recommend honours to Commodore Decker and Captain Richardson." Osborne had never personally met Richardson except for the perfunctory briefings with the captains of his fleet's vessels back whilst back in the Home Islands, but he had known Decker well from his service during the war with Novikov where, ironically enough, he had been one of the few officers to fully understand the threat posed by the Novikovian submarine force.

Regardless, the time was approaching. Its march inevitable, inescapable, and indefatigable. "Bring the fleet to battlestations, redouble our anti-submarine patrols, extend the patrol range to two-two-zero kilometres and maintain layered sweeps and dips within the fleet itself." Osborne rubbed his brow, at the least, his friend and colleagues had died in a fashion that was useful to him and could, potentially, save lives.

Above Northern Carpanthium
East of Sale, Northford

"Swung south?"

"I say again Nebula Leader, the Northies have swung south."

Inside the cockpit of his Nimbostratus, Wing Commander Leslie Mandrake tapped a few buttons on his glass displays, confirming for himself the message from the airborne command aircraft circling to the east of his aircraft and the other hundreds all under his command as senior officer.

"All flights, this is Nebula Leader, maintain formations." Mandrake tapped a few more buttons to switch his communications channel, this time to a ground control station in Carpanthium.

"Star Command, this is Nebula Leader, the enemy has retreated without engagement, now headed south. Requesting orders."

On the ground, Air Commodore Nigel Pierce shook his head. To an extent, his command had performed its duty, defended the northern extent of Carpanthium without having to fire a shot. Now, however, the Northfordians were running, but not to the west, not to their remaining airfields, but to the south. Pierce, however, was not just tasked with maintaining the northern defences, but as the commanding officer of the RAF's Carpanthium Fighter Command, the whole of the Cravanian territory's air defence, at least as so far as Oceanian units were concerned.

"Air Commodore," a Cravanian liaison officer interrupted, handing Pierce a report from Cravanian air defence networks in the south. He quickly breezed through the report, noting the movement of Commonwealth forces, supported by helicopters and ground attack aircraft. If the retreating Northfordians rendezvoused with those aircraft...

"Nebula Leader, this is Star Command. Close with and engage enemy forces."

"Close with and engage enemy forces, orders confirmed, Nebula Leader out."

Over the skies of Carpanthium, the four hundred fighters under Mandrake's field command began their own turn to the south. As the distance closed, and the Azahan sector approached, the fighters released the first wave of long-range anti-aircraft missiles. They stayed silent the first half of their trip, and then switched on active sets in their nose to close and hopefully kill the Northfordians.

On the ground, along the border but several kilometres behind the demarcated line, Oceanian troops donned their CBR gear as intended by those suffering on the other side of the border. However, Gallagher had purposefully positioned his men and women behind the border to mitigate losses in the opening stages of a ground invasions; admittedly, though, the use of such deadly and unconventional weapons had not been thought likely.

Royal Engineers now began to pull back from their forward positions, under the cover of forward positioned Cougar battle tanks and Jaguar IFVs, rolled to the areas nearest the front line to engage any skirmishers. However, from the information collected by aerial surveillance assets, the invasion was seemingly concentrated in the south and so along the A45, whole regiments breathed a sigh of relief while their comrades to the south took a deep breath to steel their nerves.

Southern Carpanthium

"Bloody hell, lads, here they come," shouted Corporal Nevin Anderson, picking up his L75 rifle. He was the leader of a rifle section, part of the first line of Oceanian defenders in southern Carpanthium. His regiment had deployed near thirty-five kilometres south of the border, engineers and his specialists carving the no-man's land between them and the border with anti-tank ditches, to force Commonwealth armoured units into pre-selected routes of advance. Of course, the ditches, the shallower registering in at near four metres deep, were complemented by the area's natural geography, rivers, ravines, creeks, and cliffs.

Commonwealth forces could attempt to run through the ditches and the rivers, but they would get no further. Those places where the bedrock neared the surface or where bridges had been built long ago, they remained avenues of approach for the Azahans that, according to the Oceanian reconnaissance drones in the air, were beginning their moves towards the border. But those passes and gaps were well defended by mines and accurately sited by heavy field artillery units placed far behind the lines. In being so far back, however, they could not be effective counter-battery units, but nor could they likely be hit by the first Azahan artillery barrages.

And as the eventual barrage neared, Corporal Anderson could do little else other than hold his helmet tightly atop his teenage head. He heard a cackling burst of static in his ear, and received the latest orders from command several kilometres north of his position. "Shit," he muttered quietly, "sorry, sir, not you, sir," he added with a reddened face as his lieutenant questioned for whom the expletive had been intended.

"Listen up," Anderson shouted, "the Northies over there," he waved in the general direction a few half-dozen kilometres to the south, "have used chemical and biological weapons in the north. Suit up, and I want everyone to secure their suits. I do not want to hear you coughing in twenty minutes saying that you somehow received a compromised kit. Understood?"

His men half shouted and half grumbled compliance with their new orders. North of Anderson, the buttoned-down Jaguars and Cougars began to secure themselves for CBR battle conditions. Further north and west, at Camp Harrow, General Gallagher crumpled the report into a ball and tossed it into a wastebasket.

He had hoped the Northfordians would fight a civilised war--if such a thing existed. However, there were reports of chemical and/or biological weapons being used in the north. A team of engineers had been setting charges to blow a bridge when the hedgehogs went off. Inside the unit's wheeled armoured vehicle the crew detected toxins--too late for the engineers planting the shaped charge explosives to the bridge supports, but early enough for most UK forces along the border.

However, with such an attack, Gallagher had no option but to sign off on new orders he had hoped never to use. The Commonwealth had not yet even invaded, but already had escalated the conflict. As the order was passed along by his 2IC and from him to field artillery units, UK field artillery commanders switched out their ammo loads from high-explosive, illumination, sub-munition rounds to more lethal rounds containing neurotoxins and other chemical and biological agents.

ooc: short and less-than-well-stated, but wanted to get something up... more to come later this weekend... i hope

Northfordian-Carpanthium Border Area

Sitting in the skies was one of the largest aircraft operated by the Illiorian Armed Forces, a GS-425 Nightwing, a massive AWACS platform that could see over 1200 kilometers. This particular AWACS had the duty of dealing with the return of the Illiorian aircraft that had just returned from striking Northford. As the group began to come back within range of the AWACS, moving to about 800Kms away, a group of missiles began showing up at maximum range on Airman Michael Coors Screen.

“Ghost Flight Alpha Niner, this is Archangel three three five seven, you’ve got bats incoming over your shoulder at 5 o clock, 380 klicks and closing fast, recommend going full active on radar to catch and try to jam, Over.”

“Archangel, this is Ghost flight, we read, but we’re not into blue yet, we’re still in red zone, over.”

Damn, Coors thought, He’s right. He began looking into other options, rolling through the manual in his mind, fast as possible, going through the what seemed like several thousand options in the shortest amount of time possible. A thought blew through his head quickly and immediately began checking through the other AWACS in the area, seeing if they had any ECM aircraft, and surprisingly, a Cravanian IAL-4 had control of a single ISF-35 EW aircraft.

“Halo two eight nine, this is Archangel three three five seven, you mind vectoring in your Parrot, we got inbound arrows after our birds, squawk on channel one seven three dot two five, over.”

“Archangel three three five seven,” Halo 289 responded, “Vectoring in parrot with his plumage, over.”

Several minutes passed as Coors watched the screen, seeing his birds/their projected position, the inbound missiles, and Parrot one six three six. “Archangel, Archangel, this is Parrot one six three six, over,”

“Parrot sixteen thirty-six, go ahead,”

“Inbound on vector from a Halo bird, requesting secondary vector, over.”

“ Roger, turn on heading one nine zero, and proceed along that heading for a hundred klicks and launch plumage one through eight, on a 360 setting, maximum range, over.”

A new voice cut in, “ARCHANGEL ARCHANGEL, WE HAVE MAW ACTIVATION, THOSE MISSILES ARE MOVING IN FAST, OVER.”

“Parrot, you hear that?”

“Archangel, roger.”

“Fire away, delayed setting till the missiles blow past our position, over,”

“Roger, Plumage one dash eight, firing away.”

Several hundred kilometers north of the returning stealth bombers and fighters, an Illiorian EW aircraft launched what seemed to be eight normal Air Launched Cruise Missiles, or ALCMs. These were no ordinary ALCMs, however. These were specially designed EW missiles to frizzle any radar within several hundred kilometers, and its engine was designed specifically to save no heat suppression measures to ensure maximum IR flare. They were a specific version of the AGM-113, the Illiorian ALARM missile.

Dramatic rock/heavy metal Music begins.

The eight missiles dropped in quick succession, rocking the ISF-35 as it lost its massive payload, each missile dropping like rain from a Nor’easter, blowing away so fast, almost seeming with a purpose, each drop moving further and further away from one another, covering the widest range possible.

The missiles, after dropping, began their flight, from about 500 kilometers away. This allowed the missiles to kick up to their maximum speed, and still be able to reach the inbound aircraft before the missiles would get into their MAAM range. It took the missiles roughly two minutes to reach the range before they passed the inbound aircraft, screaming over the aircraft like a wild pitch over a catcher’s shoulder, and kicked in their powerful jamming systems, leaving behind the aircraft a shield of enough waves to cook several large pieces of food, and hopefully in the process messing up any tracking systems in the area, including the missiles.

(music ends)

Sitting within one of the Sariels returning was a captain named Josh Barnes. Barnes watched as his passive radar went haywire as soon as those EW missiles went screaming by, noting that his Soa-4 had lost track of the missiles, and hopefully that it was reciprocated as he proceeded further and further into Carpanthium, returning to his home airfield.

“Archangel, this is Wraith one three four, thanks for the help, we’re gonna go get some food, when you comin back in?”

“Wraith, this is Archangel, we’ll hopefully be in within the next 20 hours or so… we’ve already been up here for a full twenty.”

“Holy fuck, that’s long time, you got any food up there?”

“Yeah, and a room at the Ritz.” A loud cackle was audible over the airwaves.

“Wow, talk about a bad detail,”

“Enh, not…”

“You two, shut the fuck up, this is a tactical channel, now tits or get the fuck out.”

“Tits,” Barnes replied before giving his final note of leave, “Archangel, Wraith transferring to one two two dot two five for approach, over.”

“Wraith, Archangel confirms transfer of control, over.”

Illian

“So, where do we proceed from here?” Erika asked as she just received the news.

“Well, if we’re not in danger, I suggest sending the rest of the navy to our Havenic colonies, I’m not liking the way the battle of the strait is going at the moment, and I’m not very happy with the fact that we’re in a real tough strategic position.” An admiral said.

“Agreed, I’d also like to get more of my aircraft into Haven, but we need to find a suitable position, as Northland’s airfields are already packed with fighters and bombers. As well, we’ve been authorized to use DPUO as a stop over point on continuing flights.”

“Ok then,” Erika said looking around, “let’s get the 21st through the 30th fleets deployed ASAP, as it’ll take them a while to get there. Now, how did the strikes on Northford proceed?”

“Well, our PCA was that we took out a decent part of their ship building capacity, steel production and their stationary Air defense. Our sats got some decent pictures, but it’s still hard to tell what we took out of commission.”

“So that leaves their shipbuilding in what kind of shape?” Erika continued, as more and more questions began to imbue themselves into Erika’s consciousness.

The admiral considered for a few seconds before replying. “From our target plans, we left one major shipbuilding spot open, known to the locals as the Rippon channel. We’ve designated it waterway nineteen. Now, we left waterway nineteen open due to its heavy Air defense surroundings. The key to taking it out would be using orbital weapons or ICBMs.”

“ICBMs are out of the question because they can be considered Nuclear, so what can we do with orbitals?”

“well… our mass drivers could launch a strike on Rippon channel, throwing, oh a hundred or so rods at their ships there, but I’m not so sure how effective that would be.”

“Do it anyways.”

“Yes’m.”

Nemiroffsk, San Nereiana, Southwest Haven

The massive C-225B Cossack and C-181A Starlifter II transport aircraft in transit from the Aequatian Republic began landing at the designated airstrips and bases throughout the island as their crews worked alongside the Allaneans in unloading the equipment and weapons brought with them, while C-767A transports landed and disembarked infantry of the 6th Airborne Division. The paratroopers, although light infantry, were robustly equipped in order to keep them on par with the firepower of the Aequatian Republic Army's mechanized infantry or "Legacy Forces" which formed the core of the army's warfighting ability. The division was the first of many forces that were to arrive as part of the expeditionary VII Airborne Corps which would be preparing for the coming operations in southwest Haven in support of the nation's NATO allies. The stream of aircraft was continuous as the Air Force's Military Airlift Command transports was endless in its duties of bringing the Aequatian forces from their home bases in the Republic to the operation zones in Southwest Haven. Days behind came the heavier armoured and mechanized forces aboard the Merchant Marine transports, originally en route to Kahanistan in support of ARMIK, they had been reflagged to support Operation Haven Sentry and directed towards Roanoke partway into their voyage, shortening their trip through allied waters and allowing their soldiers to prepare for ground operations once ashore.

The tarmac was filled with uniformed soldiers as they formed into the company assembly areas, hundreds of the paratroopers lined the grounds as they were moved off after a short briefing into their temporary billets on the base. Elsewhere, the vehicles used by the airborne battalions were moved into their unit set formations, 8x8 UNISUV-2 light armoured vehicles, the lighter Cougar humvees and the M38 2.5-ton trucks were all lined according to the battalion they belonged to as noted on the shipping forms. All the while, DISCOM personnel with the movement control teams hurried along the drivers as they moved their vehicles about the grounds. The most surprising vehicles to see were the Division's Armoured Battalion's M24 Valkyrie light tanks, designed in Russkya and equipped with Aequatian 125mm rounds, they were formidable armoured fighting vehicles and would be most welcome on the ground with the soldiers. As per the warning issued by CENTCOM, training in the procedures for chemical and biological countermeasures was of primary concern for the personnel on the ground, with a Mission Oriented Protective Posture maintained at level one at all times, leaving the Aequatian soldiers trudging about in their heavy chemical suits in addition to their normal personal kit.

In addition to the massive transports, the Air Force also sent numerous combat and support aircraft to Roanoke, ranging from fighters such as the F-28F Black Eagle air superiority aircraft to the F/A-39A Enforcer multirole strike fighter. There were also a number of strike aircraft, including the venerable BA-74C Arrow light bombers alongside their heavier brothers, the B-12B Vanquishers and the newly-acquired, Tyrandis-built B-22A Sariel heavy bombers, the former prepared with the new Candrian Aerospace Technologies AGM-CC25h Hypersonic Standoff Munitions Delivery Vehicle, designated the AGM-325A Stand-Off Dispenser in Aequatian service, which proved more than effective in weapons trials. A number of the Capricorn family of support aircraft were also available, the most important being the E-14A Multi-Sensor Command and Control aircraft, using its "look-down" radar system, it would provide commanders on the ground with an almost perfect picture of enemy locations, unit sizes and movements and allow for better command and control as they worked alongside the RQ-4D Global Hawk unmanned aerial vehicles in the maintenance of complete ISR elements. Supporting the air force squadrons would be the E-14C airborne early warning and control aircraft which would monitor the skies above the army and vector in interceptors as well as track enemy cruise missiles, allowing for the air defence gunners on the ground to defeat them, while the massive KC-767A Supertankers would allow for all of the aircraft in-theatre to increase the endurance of the aircraft in the air.

Strobovia Strait
COMBINED FLEET
14th July


"Sir" An Ensign turned around with a fairly worried look on his face, his once pristine and clean uniform tussled and crisp with sweat from the 15 hours he had been on duty. There was a tinge of worry in his voice.

"What is it son?" Fleet Admiral Keyes turned around and looked over.

"You should see this."

Keyes thought at this point it could only get worse. Since then, the Scandavian attacks on the Questarian fleet had inflicted losses Keyes was slightly irritated at; apart from damaging his own fleet flagship, just over three dozen Mogamis had been sunk by the continous Scandavian bombardment, as well as a number of smaller ships. On top of that, twelve of the battleships had sustained damages and three had been sunk outright, which was not good. In addition, his own flagship had been wounded with the loss of its C Turret and some superstructure as well as belt damage; the Air Defence had held up but any gaps that had been cleared quickly opened up new ones. The crews of the ships were not used to having the missiles come in at different varying angles and directions every time.

The Admiral blinked as he saw the Khans. Picked up by OTH ballistic RADAR in Azaha, a response was quickly formulated, in the form of the 'Brilliant Pebbles' currently floating in orbit over the Strobovia. Many, many of the Khans were interdicted and knocked out by the massive amounts of these weapons that IGHQ had deployed over hot conflict zones where they thought Khans might be used, but naturally some got through. Large amounts of pebbles had been deployed and in any case, more were constantly being put up. Headquarters had been right when it had expected en-masse Khan waves and had made the neccessary preperations to deal with such. Of course, no defence is a hundred percent accurate.

"How are they holding up?" Keyes asked, tapping in some more tobacco to his pipe.

"Sir, I - some have penetrated the defence barrier. They're coming straight for us."

Keyes dropped the pipe and spilt the tobacco on the floor. "Cameras thirty through forty, now!"

Quickly the cameras activated. Several of them were take out of action by the Scandavian missiles but in the very distance Keyes could see the Khans coming straight for him, tracer fire and rockets from the fleet point defence streaming out to meet them. Great flak barrages bombarded the sky filling with dark clouds of grey and black but very few missiles were lost.

"Sir, shall I give the order to brace for impact?"

"No." Keyes said slowly, backing away from the cameras and swivelling around. "Tell the Goetz to abandon ship! Activate cameras twelve through eighteen! Do it!" He said as the cameras came online. It was too late; Keyes should have known they'd have targeted the carriers. He watched from the three cameras that hadn't been disabled as the six Khans shot past his ship and exploded along the side of the HIQMS Bernie Goetz. He had commanded a carrier in the Doomani war, and had seen first hand the Warspite explode taking several thousand good men with it and mortally wounding the rest. A cold shock ran through him. He simply could not see the Goetz behind the smoke and fire.

"Do we have communications with them?" He said, turning around to see the communications officer in shock, blinking at the screen. "Well!"

"Uhm, erm, hold on sir." The Communications officer tried to hail the ship. "Damnit" he said under his breath. "Come on you bastards..." He sighed. "Nothing sir." Keyes was looking at the cameras again. "Jesus christ..."

The smoke from the Goetz began to clear when more Khans began to come in and sank another carrier, in Force E. The Air Defence and the Brilliant Pebbles had done their job, but at least ten carriers had sustained damage and two had been sunk outright. The smoke suddenly got thicker and another explosion tore apart what was left of the ship. Within minutes the thick smoke had cleared and there was nothing on the surface. Nothing.

"Ensign Shimada?" Keyes said, still looking through the camera.

"Yes sir?"

"Report to the fleet and to anything in range. The HIQMS Bernie Goetz has been sunk with all hands. God Save the King and God Bless his servicemen."

A third carrier fell prey to the Khan attacks before the strike was over.

Questers
London,
14th July

"This is Michael Tenner with the morning news. Five minutes ago, we've received news that the HIQMS Bernie Goetz was sunk with all hands in the Strobovian Strait with over 9,000 casualties. Furthermore, our glorious arm-"

Mary Edwards quickly turned off the television and stopped eating her toast.

"Mummy?" The little boy sitting opposite her, still blisfully unaware and munching on his jam toast. His mother didn't reply. "Mummy, what ship does Father serve on?"

"I... I don't know." she stuttered. "Now eat your toast." she said hastily. "Its time for school."

Five minutes later, as she left her house to take her son to school, she felt like the whole neighborhood was watching her with pity. She didn't want their pity right now - they all knew her husband as she had pronounced with pride to anyone who would talk to her that her husband was serving as a pilot onboard the same aircraft carrier sunk that morning; as far as she knew, her husband was dead. Actually, he wasn't.

Strobovia Strait
293rd Naval Bomb Group
14th July

"Incoming transmission from command." Captain Edward's bombardier notified him. Across the air fleet assembled, other bombardiers would be notifying their pilots of a similar incoming message. And so, it came.

"This is Fleet Admiral Keyes to all forces based off HIQMS Bernie Goetz. The ship was khanned less than five minutes ago and taken out of action with all hands lost. Upon return you will now be based off the carrier John Locke. That is all, and God Speed."

"Shit!" Stanley Edwards said out loud. "They sank the Goetz!'. He then realised, that his entire aircrew was dead. He could feel the blood inside him boiling up as he thought about it more, which was always a bad sign. Despite the fact he was a military pilot, Edwards was a peaceful man; the only time he'd ever cried was when his daughter died after being prematurely delivered. And that was pretty acceptable. But now, six of his good friends were dead. Either perished in the flames of the missile attack, vapourised outright, or drowned a watery death. He was not just sad, he was angry. This did not have to happen. At least, he knew, he would providing the deliverance to the same people that had killed his friends, but after all he would have preferred them not to die in the first place... what was the point of this war? To prove some national penis contest? The politicians said it was to destroy NATO imperialism. Edwards didn't believe that one bit. Nevertheless, duty is duty.

With a wave of fighters in front of them, at two hundred kilometres, the Questarian air armada of 10 naval bomb groups launched four thousand AS-29s at the tiny Allanean fleet. They would accelerate to 3500kmh and

From there, when the aircraft managed to land on their carriers – the fighters first because the bombers had significantly longer range, they’d be forwarded to Northford and then back to the homeland. The aircraft crew of the HIQMS Bernie Goetz would be the first to receive their new aircraft…

Azaha
14th July

The D3A Suisei’s of the 48th Air Regiment had a special task, and for this, had special weapons: each was loaded down with seven AGR30K WALLET Air to Ground Missiles, each weighing 200kg, designed specially to tackle heavy tanks. They could, under the Questarian air superiority over at least their own territory, dive in low on top of the Questarian lines, fire their missiles towards the enemy TR29s, and then pull back to base. This is what they did, and every twenty minutes aircraft began to deliver salvos of 1,800 of such missiles against the Allanean heavy tank lines.

From the Azahan capital sailed forth the Azahan Colonial Expeditionary Group; not just the small Azahan fleet, but elements of Southern Seas Commmand, with its four Valiant class battleships and respective escorts. They sallied out from their defensive shield in the capital and within a space of several hours were already in range of engaging the Allanean tanks with their 20” guns. At 80 kilometres the first salvos sounded off and with a rate of fire of one round per minute, over 5,760 21” shells weighing 1,I’400kg each were dropped over the Allanean land advance before the fast battleships began to withdraw.

Azaha
15th Special Air Group
Lt.General Hart’s Office
14th July

General Hart leaned back in his chair, slightly adjusting the photograph of his family on the desk. No, he preferred it back where it was, he thought, and shifted it back. He was about to drift off to sleep when there was a short rapping on his door.

“Come in.” He shouted out, blinking the sleep from his eyes and sitting up in an attempt to look remotely organized.

It was Captain Rogers who opened the door, stepped in lightly, and closed it behind him. Hart sighed, he knew what was coming.

”Sir, I’m not going to make some kind of speech. I can’t fight anymore. I need time to grieve. Its smashed my concentration. Here’s my letter of resignation.”

“Captain.” Hart began. “I’ve had two captains resign on me this morning. I won’t have another. Determined crew for our spaceplanes is an absolute must; we absolutely have to keep this operation running. It is critical to the war effort.”

“With all due respect, sir, I can not fight. Just accept my resignation.”

“Damnit Rogers!” Hart slammed his fist on the table. “We need every able Spaceplane crewman we can get! We’re in a middle of a war! How many other soldiers do you think are suffering right now? How many families do you think are suffering right now? Selfish actions like this will only extend the war and cause more suffering!”

Rogers was taken aback. He had honestly expected the General to accept his resignation straight out.

“Sir, I refuse to fight. Just accept my resignation.” Rogers insisted, handing the letter of resignation onto the General’s desk.

“No! If you refuse to fight I will have you shot.” the General picked up the letter of resignation. “And this.” He said, tearing it in half. “Is null and void.” The General stood up. “Now get back to your aircraft before I have you court marshaled.”

Rogers blinked. “Sir, uh, yes sir.” He saluted and left the office, defeated. General Hart slumped into his chair, breathing out. Only the first day and three resignations. He shook his head, taking out a bottle of “Extra Old Eight Year” cognac from a drawer and pouring himself a small glassful. War was hell.

The three squadrons of Sabre SSTO Spaceplanes, because of their gigantic payloads, had an important role. Each could carry 98 of the AG20A ALCMs, which made them critical. Operational command in Azaha had reorganised and regrouped and was preparing its second air offensive to wrestle control of the skies above San-Nereiana from the Allaneans. To do this was a fairly simple mission. They didn’t even have to fly over the border to get in range of the whole of San-Nereiana, so in this respect the spaceplanes just became large missile carriers that didn’t even need to sally into enemy territory. They’d take off, fire their missiles, land, reload, and continue the cycle. Crews of Questarian spaceplanes were each trained in another area of operation in their aircraft and as such could take short rests. Because of the high speed of the aircraft meaning missions would be constant throughout the day they had been trained, and gotten used to, odd sleeping patterns. Every hour they would launch 5,880 AG20A ALCMs against airfields in Allanea, with half of the missiles containing large numbers of bomblets.

Ten squadrons, known as the 108th-118th Surgical Strike Air Regiments, or SSAR’s for short, were parked in underground concealed airbases under various parts of the Azahan desert. In total these wings represented a hundred aircraft, but they were equipped with the core of Strategic Command’s heavy bombers; a hundred Candrian B22s, developed under license as the J10M. They were each capable of carrying 40 of the AGR16A/AG16A ALCMs that the spaceplanes were delivering, with two SSARs staying in reserve. In addition they both had AWACs and tankers that could fly well above the Allanean air defence; not that they actually needed to. Every three hours the SSAR units could launch precisely 42 of such missiles which totaled 3,360 missiles; half of which would be the radiation missiles in each strike, which would be launched at the radar-orientated targets. The targets of the Surgical Strike Air Regiments were Allanean Communications and Detection infrastructure; amongst these included most notably large OTH and standard sized RADARs, especially those that would thought to be linked to the air defence network, communications such as radio stations both civilian and military and in general any form of detection and communication possible. Like the spaceplanes, they had sufficient strike range so that they didn’t even need to cross over the border.

This was only the start of Operation: Raiden, the second offensive that would gain control of the skies over San-Nereiana.

The second phase was to knock out anything still flying in the air. For this purpose, from reserve airfields at the rear of Azaha, large swathes of A7H fighters from the Colonial Air Reserve and from the IQAAS itself met with tankers six hundred klicks west of their takeoff positions and within a fair few hours were fueled up and ready to go. Their mission, for which they’d have full air support in the form of AWACS and tankers, was to knock out of the sky any and all Allanean aircraft. With over two thousand fighters, the task would not be too hard as Allanean air communications would be in disarray from the strike three hours previously. As the spearhead advanced over Allanean territory at 13,000m, eight hundred aircraft flew above and slightly ahead at 16,000m. With the AWACs above they had complete RADAR coverage well ahead into the Allanean lines and could see with satisfaction the missiles hitting their targets. Should any Allanean aircraft come in detection range they would meet a hail of air to air missiles.

This was not all. Again targeted at airfields, from underground hardened bases in the sand, over 5,000 missiles, as used in the original attack, could be launched from easily coverable vertical launch grids that would quickly be reloaded. They were launched in synchronisation with the spaceplane and bomber attacks.

[OOC: Note, these are fired against ANY airfields that could be spotted by satellite. Equally balanced strikes too, I’m not going to do anything stupid like launch 500 missiles on one tiny runway. I’m hitting civvie airfields too.]

Kriegorgrad
1001st Naval Bomb Group
14th July

The 1001st was one of four naval bomb groups stationed in Kriegorgrad. Originally it had been set up to train Kriegos pilots but had stayed there as a defensive force, and was bolstered to full strength before the start of the war. They used the massive Candrian B22s, redesignated the J10M in Questarian service which could carry an astonishing 54 AS12A standoff missiles. However, as the missiles could be launched from beyond CAP or SAM range, or even naval detection, there were some flaws: those being, they had to know where the ships where for the inertial guidance to actually work. This is where the humongous amount of Questarian ocean satellites came into play, though it didn’t need many to find the location of the Kahanistani fleet along its relatively small coastline.

So, the radar equipped ocean recce satellite COSMOS.42 blinked once. And again. And again, and made some beeping sounds, with the bombers of the 1001st picked up. Their pilots wouldn’t understand the beeping sound, but their weapon systems certainly did, which is why the 1001st as well as its two sister squadrons launched, at 825 kilometres, a total of 3564 standoff missiles, dropping gracefully from the gigantic bomb bays and letting gravity do its work for just a moment before their ramjet rocket motors began to kick in. Of course, the pattern of the bombers took them out of range of landbased fighters from Kahanistan itself; taking a route out to sea and then turning north to engage the fleet. They were covered by Kriegos aircraft from carriers for most of the journey and in any case were safe from ground based fighters, and considering the Kahanistani western fleet had no carriers to call its own…

The missile attacks would continue until the Kahanistani fleet was destroyed.

Azaha
38th Army HQ
14th July

The bunker shuddered again from the attack, rocks and dirt and sand collapsing and adding to the heaps already on the floor. General Armington held onto his helmet as the artillery shell impacted over the commander bunker’s concrete roof. “What are our losses like?” he shouted at his communications officer, who was desperately trying to organize the communications network and maintain contact with the front line groups. More rubble began to grow at the Generals feet as the bunker took another pounding.

“What?” The Communications officer shouted back after an artillery blast. The sound was deafening which made just even talking to each other somewhat harder.

“What are our fucking losses like!” Armington shouted louder.

“What! I can’t fuckin’ hear you sir!” The officer shouted back, almost losing his balance to another explosion. Armington began to gather strength to shout again when the door creaked open and Armington recognized one of his subordinates, Colonel Lamberdale. The Colonel cracked a salute, as best he could in the conditions of the bombardment and Armington returned the greeting. “Sir, our armoured units on Hill 102 are being wasted by the bombardment. Almost sixty perce-”

Another direct hit threw everyone in the room off balance. One of the main support girders creaked and began to snap, bringing down rubble in swift movements scattering across the room.

“This HQ will have to be evacuated.” Armington said to the room full of his headquarters staff in the calmest voice possible while still having to shout over the massive bombardment. As Armington ducked under the exit of the bunker and stepped outside, he could see strait from the rear of Hill 102 and over the capital of Azaha: past the wrecked tanks, the burning and blazing vehicles with thick smoke trailing from their turrets, with lines of infantry retreating under the vicious Allanean bombardment, it looked like a disaster. Armington closed his eyes to rub a grain of sand out and when he reopened them his jaw slowly began to droop. Over the few skyliners of the capital a line and wave of bright, strobing lights could be seen getting closer and closer.

Behind the lines, the 44th Bombardment Army was sitting a hundred kilometres off the Allanean advance, even behind the capital. It was subdivided into ten Independent Artillery Divisions, each with six hundred multiple rocket launchers. The long range rockets would scatter over 700 bomblets over the Allanean forces. Reload times were fast with the constant stream of supplies coming through as the Allaneans really had no way to damage the supply dumps as of yet. Of course, supplies would eventually run out, but not before the purpose had been fulfilled. For an hour the bombardment lasted, sending bright white and yellow strobing signals over the capital of Azaha and down onto the Allanean forces. The civilians, clearing up the mess of the streets and putting out fires spat in disgust at the Allanean messages. They were simple people, many of them sand and desert dwellers, but they would not bow down to any self admitted barbaric murderer. The fires of the city met together and blazed the whole night, but for the populace, they could see, just for one hour, the retaliatory strike. Over three hundred and sixty thousand rockets in an hour were fired over into the advancing Allanean armoured columns, a deadly mix of bomblets, anti tank mines, and plain old heavy explosives. After an hour the skies cleared and the attack stopped. For now, until they could resupply, and this was not all.

The 44th was not the only artillery command in Azaha. Massed behind the line of tanks, over ten thousand howitzers and a similar amount of heavy field guns were laid in neat lines guarded by a close network of SAMs and AAA. The ten thousand 20cm howitzers and nine thousand 24cm field guns were pointed over the Allanean lines. General Alexander watched in horror as the line of tanks in front of him were decimated by the Allanean bombardment.

”Sir? We’ve orders to begin the bombardment.” Slowly, Alexander slipped the large earmuffs over his combat beret without saying anything.

“Then fire, Assad. Waste those bastards.” His Major needed no prompt. The guns began to sound off, some detachments in unison, some in canon, and some just randomly as fast as they could pump shells out. The Artillery, managed, before it silenced itself to let the smoke clear, slightly over a million heavy artillery shells onto the Allanean lines.

Azaha
Khoultum
38th Marine Division HQ
14th July

There was a great shudder as the NPG round smashed into the sea. Lieutenant Colonel Abdu ar-Rahman grinned as he watched the gigantic splash landing 20 kilometres offshore. This island was defended by the best of the best of the Azahan military, the Marines. Crack infantry whom the entire nation could be proud of, and they would, ar-Rahman reflected. The three main sites on the island; for it was mostly desert and palm trees, with a large hill in the centre, were the airfield, the army headquarters, and the small town. The airfield and the headquarters on top of the hill had received a beating, and though they had a clear view over most of the ocean on that side, most of their heavy weaponry had been lost in the Allanean air attack. The small town lasted from the beginning of the long and high hill and lasted almost up until the end, in some parts meeting with the airfield. Unphashed and indifferent Azahan civilians hung out washing on their lines from their windows to the palm trees sitting on the airfield. The town, the airfield, and the army headquarters were the only garrisoned places on the island, and there was plenty of space for the Allaneans to drop below the town. These sites were covered from all angles of approach with 22mm autocannons, heavy machine guns, and a few light vehicles, with large minefields all around the hill. Though the town only went up one side of the hill, the fortifications lasted through three tiers of trenches around the hill with the division sitting inside of them, machine guns and sniper rifles pointing outwards. Any landing even on top of the hill would be more than paramount to suicide because of the massive fortifications that lasted from half way up the hill to the very top of the hill.

Central Azaha
308th Armoured Division HQ
14th July

“Jesus Christ on a motherfucking pogo stick.” General Garrington said as he read over the latest reports on the southern front. “When are they going to send us into action?”

“Dunno sir.” The aide said, eyes closed with goggles bouncing hundreds of grains of sand every second. General Garrington, as commander of one of the three groups of 60,000 tanks concealed with full air coverage, and in any case out of range of Allanean attacks, tasked to move forwards quickly and attack the Allanean lines when they where entangled with the southern front.

As if by magic, the phone began to rang. “Aw fucking hell.” The aide sighed and moved to pick it up, but Garrington was already on it.

“General Garrington, 308th Armoured. Yes sir. Right away sir.”

Garrington grinned to his aide and the young captain dragged his palm down his face. It was going to begin.

Within two hours the whole line of tanks was moving out of their positions and sallying forth in a swinging flank to strike down the Allanean lines. Within eight hours they would smash into the Allanean offensive in the South in two large spearheads, one slightly behind the other, with thousands upon thousands of self propelled artillery, tank destroyers, motorised and mechanised infantry in tow. That is, if the south lasted eight hours.x`

Southwestern Northford

"Well isn't that just perfect," Legatus Propraetoris C. Publius Silvanus growled as he puffed on the cigar, turning away from the LCD monitor upon which the news was playing.

It was a Questarian channel with Latin subtitles; images of Questarian paratroopers attempting to restore order in Mestuza flashed across, along with footage of Catholics being killed in the streets, churches burned to the ground. And of course, most importantly, the call for aid by the Catholic extremist element.

The presence of Islamic extremists and other undesirable elements only helped matters.

"Playing right into our hands. It was only a matter of time before this happened...we all knew that," he took his seat at the head of the table, his officers taking their seats as he did. "So, gentlemen, are we ready?"

A stocky tribune was the first to reply, standing as he spoke and producing a remote control. "Indeed, sir," he touched a button on the remote, prompting a holographic display at the center of the table to activate.

It was a map of Northern Kahanistan along with the known deployments of border defenses. The city of North Freetown was highlighted among all else. Imperial deployments were shown in gold with enemy deployments shown in red, allied Northfordian units shown in blue.

"The Kriegos are doing an outstanding job to the south. Bastards didn't know what hit 'em. Threw them off balance as planned. Unfortunately, we still need to deal with the bulk of their army, as they rightfully expected an attack from our end."

Taking his seat, a bald Legatus stood, taking the remote from the tribune and fumbling with it a bit. After a moment of tinkering, the holographic image changed to a cube; on each of the four sides the news was playing. There were collective oo's and ah's at the display of technological awesomeness.

"As Legatus Silvanus mentioned before, the infidels have unwittingly played right into our hands. Their failure to properly suppress anti-Catholic sentiment while they had the chance has resulted in the tragedies you see unfolding before you. Thus, we have a reason to invade that will actualy satisfy the heathens of the world, hopefully resulting in them staying out of our way. And of course, it is our God-given duty to defend His children from the unbelievers..."

Silvanus spoke, prompting the general to take his seat,

"Clearly it is time to initiate Operation Broken Crescent. Caesar Himself has given me full authority to prosecute this war whenever I find the timing to be perfect, and clearly the timing is perfect. What we accomplish in these coming days will bring much glory to the Imperium: finally we shall have secure harbors in Haven, and the Caehanicae (OOC: Doomani-ized name for Kahanistanis) plague shall finally be irradicated from the face of Terra. Brothers, this day shall be a bloody one, but the blood shall be that of the unbeliever! Deus vult!" he pounded his fist on the table.

"Deus vult!"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Extreme pain is what they need to feel for the rest of their lives
Misery and despair leaves their souls when infinity ends

For the past several months the Imperium had been preparing for an invasion of Kahanistan out of Northford, following diplomatic talks with Northford that revealed their own plans to invade Kahanistan. Naturally the Imperium Doomanum wanted a part in crushing its old foe; of course, it was more about securing harbors in Haven than anything.

If this war was successful, the Imperium would profit greatly. While her soldiers knew full well that this was the original reason for Operation Broken Crescent having been briefed on it long before, the fact that the Kahanistanis were slaughtering Catholics en masse gave them even more purpose. This was now a crusade, whether His Holiness had time to declare it or not.

Ten legions had been massed along the border, mechanized, armored, and air mobile, supported by a massive complement of aircraft. One of the ten legions was even comprised entirely of artillery!

Past experience had allowed for the Imperial Army to mold its doctrine when dealing with the Kahanistanis. It had evolved considerably since the last invasion, and with a blank check to acquire whatever he needed, Silvanus had gone out of his way to equip his armies with some of the most terrifying weapons imaginable.

Let them taste the wrath as the agony consumes them
Swallowed by the darkest light a blackened state of dismay
Survival is the only thing left for them
This grievous revelation is a new beginning
Led to the solution against their will

Massed some twenty kilometers inside the Northfordian border, Legio XIIL’s dug-in guns began training skyward. Designated as a ‘siege legion’, the unit was comprised primarily of artillery. It’s purpose? Quite simply to raze entire cities to the ground. The High Command knew full well that urban warfare against any foe, even one as incompetent as the Kahanistanis, would be a costly affair, and they could not afford to waste manpower.

At three o’clock in the morning, the first of the legion’s five hundred sixteen-inch ZMI-built Stormhammer siege guns opened fire. All along the western section of the border, Imperial rocket artillery joined in the fun, with a combined amount of roughly one-thousand five hundred individual 300mm MRLS systems attached to the various legions. Night turned to day as the enormous rockets screamed out of their launch pods, carrying their payloads to extreme altitudes amidst the night sky. Guided via GPS and other systems, they would plunge to the earth many miles away straight into their targets: the Kahanistani border defenses, which sat 100km back from the border.

A wide variety of payloads were utilized for this mission: massive fuel air explosive warheads, meant to mix in with NBC filters and completely incinerate them as well as to get into the bunkers themselves and vaporize the unfortunate inhabitants; cluster munitions for the neutralization of enemy mine fields and tank traps, as well as to decimate whatever enemy troops were manning the trenches as well as neutralize enemy artillery before it even had a chance to get a shot off; the massive 16” siege guns took to lobbing massive high explosive rounds to simply demolish Kahanistani fortifications and bases; finally, and most importantly, many of the rockets were equipped with aerosol dispensers containing the notorious Pestis Dei gas. In actuality, the gas being used was the latest version of the chemical weapon that had been used to kill off much of Najaster’s population. Pestis Dei II, or, quite simply, PD2. This version of the weapon was far more potent, utilizing a weaponized form of fluorosulfiric acid as opposed to hydrofluoric acid; now, in addition to being capable of melting through enemy NBC filters, it would now have violent reactions when mixed with water. Canteens and camelbak-style hydration systems would now make Kahanistani soldiers even more vulnerable than they already were to the lethal gas.

Deprivation thrives as the therapy continues
Sullen mastery is an answer uncontested
Denial is the only thing left for them
Life as they knew it is a distant memory
Scores of victims lust for apathy

The bombardment continued without letting up as the first Imperial armored units, consisting primarily of Imperator-II MBTs, began crossing the border into northwestern Kahanistan. It was a scene reminiscent of the last war: thousands of tanks surging across the Kahanistani border, swarming like a horde of steel across the land and freely roaming across the land. With enemy defenses one hundred kilometers back from the border, Imperial troops would have free reign for some time. Any civilians they encountered would be gunned down by the tanks and IFVs, although that would depend on the reaction of the civilians. If they suspected that the civilians may be Catholic refugees, the tank and IFV crews would hold their fire; some even tossed food out to them as they sped by.

Mechanized infantry units would be the ones to stop and identify them for sure: those that turned out to be Catholics would be redirected towards the Northfordian border where the Imperial Army had established refugee camps. Those that turned out to be unbelievers would be herded into ditches dug with mine plows mounted on the fronts of vehicles and hosed down by flamethrowers (in this case, Imperial flamethrower men were equipped with Mekugian-designed Blasa Compact Incindiery Projectors, designated the Diabolus by Imperial troops). In all cases, they strived for pure efficiency: the less civilians they encountered the better, as that would only slow down the trailing mechanized infantry.

Make them suffer
While they plead for cessation
Entirely demoralized and close to mass extinction
Damned to please supremacy
The reason for their martyrdom they will never know

The air campaign commenced as soon as the artillery barrage did; swarms of Corvus attack helicopters moved ahead of the main body of armor, acting as a scouting force; however, they made sure not to get too close to the enemy’s front line in order to avoid low-level air defenses. ELINT aircraft operating over Northford began to sniff out enemy RADAR emissions; any RADARs that had been turned on at the beginning of the bombardment were automatically targeted by rocket artillery initially. Any that turned on after the rocket launchers had fired off their loads fare no better if not worse: they would find themselves on the receiving end of a 16” artillery shell.

One hundred Sariel strategic bombers crossed the border as the bombardment commenced following the impact of the rockets on whatever RADARs were active, cruising at an altitude of 58,000 feet. They traveled 100km inland before turning into their patrol route, which would take them all along the northwestern section of the Kahanistani defensive line. Each bomber was equipped with a total of twenty-six 2,000lb JDAM-type bombs each. The air crew were given free reign over their targets: as the shells continued to impact below, they would selectively target Kahanistani fortifications and installations with their massive bombs, creating breeches in the line where Imperial armor could pour through unopposed.

200 ACI-77 Atratus air superiority fighters, flying above the Sariels, acted as escorts, forming 40km buffer zone between the Sariels’ operating area and the rest of Kahanistan. A further 100 ACI-73F Aquilae armed with anti-radiation missiles supported the Atrati: any Kahanistani RADARs switching on in their area would receive an ARM within seconds of their activation. OTH and AWACS RADARs inside of Northford would give the fighters early warning of the approach of enemy interceptors if it came to that.

Make them suffer
While they bleed through damnation
Begged for retribution before meeting with demise
Cursed by animosity
Once chosen for this mad ordeal there is no escape

A further three fighter task forces of identical size aside from the one defending the bombers were also deployed, two of the forces moving to infiltrate Kahanistan to the east. They flew out of the Northfordian border, relying on the sheer stealthiness of the aircraft to penetrate the enemy air defenses. However, as always, any Kahanistani RADAR sights activating would be on the receiving end of an anti-radiation missile from one of the Aquilae. The aircraft also fed off of RADAR from friendly AWACS aircraft, OTH RADARs, giving them early warning of any enemy fighters in the area. If an enemy fighter or transport was detected, one of the Atrati would switch his own RADAR on to grab a firing solution while one of his buddies, feeding off of his data, would loose a Sagitta air-to-air missile to put him down, which would home inertially in on the enemy aircraft before switching its own RADAR and IIR system on when going terminal to ensure that it wouldn’t be spoofed; thrust vectoring ensured that even if the missile didn’t hit the first time, it would simply turn around and make another pass on the fighter. Multiple fighters would be dealt with the same exact way, the only difference being that there would be multiple shooters.

The forth fighter task force, operating identically to the others, would handle the western coast. Of course, there was another issue at hand: the Allaneans had foolishly positioned a bomber force in airfields in northern Kahanistan. This was the ideal area for Imperial forces to strike out at them. In this case, the attack would come in the form of yet another Sariel raid. A squadron of twelve bombers, equipped with a total of twenty cruise missiles each mounted on rotary launchers, released their payloads from 500 miles away from their targets. The missiles approached their targets at low altitude, cruising at speeds exceeding mach two to make it extremely difficult for enemy low-level defenses to accurately engage them, or even detect them.

The payloads of the missiles consisted of cluster munitions and penetrating munitions (cluster munitions for cratering and mining runways as well as neutralizing exposed infrastructure, while the penetrating munitions were for taking out armored hangars and key structures in order to prevent the airfield from going operational following the strike).

Domination reigns supreme the evil has no end
Spent of all their energy now worthless and degraded
Slow death is the only thing left for them
Physically and mentally devoid of dignity
Languished immortality

Make them suffer

-Cannibal Corpse

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

OFFICIAL IMPERIAL GOVERNMENT BROADCAST:

We have heard the cries of our brothers and sisters in Kahanistan, and they shall not go unanswered!

For too long have God’s Children suffered at the hands of the unbeliever within this wicked land. This shall be no more, for the mighty legions of the Imperium Doomanum now march for the liberation of these oppressed peoples. The Kahanistani Government has shown itself to be an asset to genocide, incapable of protecting the very people it calls its citizens, instead leaving them to be slaughtered by Satanist hordes. As a result, the Imperium Doomanum has declared the already illegal terrorist government of Kahanistan to be incompetent, and shall remove it by any means necessary.

To the oppressed Catholics of Kahanistan: Fear not, for we march in your name! All Kahanistani Catholics are hereby under the protection of the Imperium Doomanum. Any individual who has partaken in the barbaric murder of Catholics shall be put to death by the Imperial Army.

To those unbelievers of Kahanistan: Convert now, for it is the only way to save your cursed souls. Your crimes shall not go unpunished. We are coming for you.

Northern Kahanistan

How can I convince you when your ears refuse to hear?
You turn your heart away from me every time that I draw near.
Your eyes refuse to meet with mine, they glance away in fear
As if you should not look at your reflection in the mirror...

The gas hit hard against the reservist troops holding the northern line, killing and injuring thousands in the first volley. Nobody expected a first-strike attack with WMD this soon into the battle.

As soon as the first screams of pain took root, the reservists initiated their countermeasures - pouring baking soda on injured soldiers to neutralise the acid of the Doomani gas.

The MLRS'es, some 3,000 along the line, fired back at the invaders. The missiles were mostly anti-radiation missiles with thermobaric warheads, intent on not only striking the enemy counter-battery radar but also killing their crews and making sure those batteries stayed down.

Few radars were on at the start of the battle save for carrier-free and other passive systems; many of the active systems that turned on were, like during the battle the Doomani call Operation Silva, decoys, only these decoys were older radars or simply CIWS mounted to radar emitters.

How can I explain to you when you won't understand?
You scoff me and you mock me and reject the truth at hand.
You spread your vicious rumours all across this troubled land,
You willfully and knowingly transgress from his command.

The Republic Guard still relied mainly on "crater-proof" VTOL fighters, and F-2 Insurgent and GLI-76 Falcons arose from camouflaged bases to engage their foes. Armed with the new KMI AIM-77 King Cobra anti-air missile, which tracked its targets by infrared search and whose proximity fuse triggered four explosive submunitions, theoretically enabling them to take down four of the enemy for one missile, the defenders of the Republic swore to drive the Doomani back into whatever part of hell all Catholics go to, and the hot little corner reserved for those Catholics who murder unbelievers.

The targeting priorities of the defending fighters were: Immediate threats, bombers targeting military facilities, AWACS, bombers targeting civilian populations, others.

Your mind has been made up for you by people you don't know,
Whose thought machines control the scenes so well it doesn't show.
How can I contain this anguish and this pain,
Knowing that your eyes are blinded by the lies?

General Abdullah Hassan al-Ghazi, the Supreme General of the Republic, formally requested that the Allaneans hold the line in the weaker south so that he could prove his worth against the Doomani. As a devout Nationalist, though not as fanatically anti-Catholic as many of his supporters, his prestige with his people and with the world would skyrocket when he defeated the Doomani.

Official Statement from the Free Havenic Republic of Kahanistan
Ministry of Defence

http://www.nationstates.net/images/flags/uploads/kahanistan.jpg

To our wonderful Allanean friends, welcome!

The Doomani thugs and imperialists now mass on our border in their effort to invade us. For the sake of Kahanistanian nationalism, pride and military morale so essential in fighting against such a barbarous aggressor, I must formally request that the Kahanistanian military fight alone against the Doomani. Assistance in dealing with the Kriegos and Northfordians is acceptable and encouraged, but we wish to defeat Doomingsland ourselves.

Signed,
General Abdullah Hassan al-Ghazi,
Supreme General of the Republic

The general sent the letter to Field Marshal Alexander Kirillovich Kazansky himself.

Have your eyes been blinded by the lies?
Have your eyes been blinded by the lies?
Yes, your eyes are blinded by the lies!
Yes, your eyes are blinded by the lies!

---

Metzuda, for those Doomani who did not speak Hebrew, meant "fortress." The fortified capital, protected by high cliffs, minefields, narrow passes, trenches, enough air defence to make Belgrade look like an African farming village, deep reservoirs, home water filters, THEL, SEPS, and two million of Kahanistan's best troops - the works - arrogantly stood at its 1,500-metre elevation, looking down at the hell-bound subhumans who would destroy the free state the Kahanistanians had worked so hard to build.

The fortified city's facilities worked furiously at its new war footing to produce tanks, armour, missiles, weapons, aircraft, and other equipment for the war effort. The Aequatians were well on the way to putting a stop to the Endlösung der Katholikenfrage (Final Solution to the Catholic Question), but almost a third of the capital's Catholics had already fled.

Every time I think about the damage that's been done,
The anger wells inside me till I'm almost overcome
I want to tear the moon out of the sky and block the sun
Why do I feel so all alone, like I'm the only one?

A force of five thousand GLI-76's and four hundred F-2's attacked the Doomani Air Force, piloted by impetuous, angry young men and women, many of whom had lost everything. Some had lost brothers or sisters, parents, children, spouses, to the Doomani invasion of the Negev.

Morale was kept high by the statements from Kahanistanian Intelligence that Kahanistan did not need to defeat the Doomani, though such was the goal of virtually every young man and woman there - even the Catholics, many of whom hid their faith so as to not be seen as collaborators - but this would likely backfire as it had on assimilated Jews in Germany. Catholics were becoming the modern-day "Jews" (though given Kahanistan's background, they could more accurately be compared to what their forefathers referred to as the "Arab Muslim Nazis.")

Intel's perspective was that Kahanistan merely needed to hold the enemy off until Gholgoth defeated the Questarian Commonwealth.

Even though your eyes are open, they may never ever see,
Your mind may never comprehend this simple subtlety,
Your heart may never hunger for the truth that sets you free,
Your soul may know the darkness of divine eternity!

---

IRST-guided surface-to-air missiles rocketed from the ground. While many of them lacked the range to strike the Sariels, they would at least clear the sky of fighters that might make the Kahanistanian fighters' task of hunting the bombers more difficult. Lower-flying helicopters would often trip laser beams that triggered hidden short-range missiles as they flew over.

Within the trenches, the reservists began putting on spare gas masks as they held their breaths, waiting for the Doomani infantry and armour to move in. These soldiers were as eager to kill Doomani as the Doomani were to kill them, if not more so. (The Doomani were not fighting for home and hearth.)

Like petty thieves who plunder in the shadows of the night,
They break inside and enter through the windows of your mind
How can I control this poisoning of the soul,
These lies that blind your eyes?

On the western side of the country, as long as the shipping lanes remained open, ships and planes filled to the brim with civilians proceeded to flee west, in the general direction of Midlonia.

By the end of that day, no fewer than twenty million of Kahanistan's population of 700 million would have left the country. The fleeing ships were protected by the Republic Navy and the Khan batteries, but those on the east, near the Strobovia Strait where the Republic Navy's presence was weaker, fled in fewer numbers, and many would make the trek across the country by plane, car, or bus to the western edge, hoping against hope that the shipping lanes would still be usable when they got there, that is, those who did not wish to flee through the Southwestern States for whatever reason...

Blinded by the lies
Have your eyes been blinded by the lies?
Have your eyes been blinded by the lies?
Yes, your eyes are blinded by the lies!
Yes, your eyes are blinded by the lies!
Your mind has been made up for you by people you don't know
Whose thought machine controls the scene so well it doesn't show
How can I contain this anguish and this pain
Knowing that your eyes are blinded by the lies?

- Blinded by the Lies, Carl Klang

Metzuda, Kahanistan

Whoever sacrifices to any god, except the Lord alone, shall be doomed. -Exodus 22:19 NAB

The news of the Doomani invasion was known to the Clandonian crusaders in advance, contacts at the Foreign and Commonwealth Office had allowed them to prepare. Armed with Doomani weapons and in the distinctive Clandonian Combat 2000 urban ‘concrete jungle’ camouflage. With the Doomani attack underway the five thousand personal in the city had been charged with bringing war onto the infidel Jews and Catholics. Their brothers and sisters would be defended with guards now watching over the Kahanistani Catholics in their neighbourhoods, protecting churches, schools and Catholic owned businesses.

“Our Doomani brothers have pledged their allegiance in the defence of our Kahanistani brothers, we must help them in their vendetta and crusade against the infidel that inhabit these lands”

“My brother who is the navy has said they are moving out en masse to Midlonian teritories, the Doomani will slaughter all this time.”

“Indeed, this city is a fortress which means a siege could take weeks, we must stockpile weapons, ammo and food encase of a prolonged battle, I hear from ears and eyes of that a bombardment will be commenced therefore we must shelter soon and call in the brotherhoods to take refugee to the infidel can be purged from the street like the whores they are. Sabotage and spy on the infidels, kill all that interfere with the work of the Lord.”

Across the city the Clandonian crusaders took the task to declare war on any of the infidels that remained, they would be purged. They took particular pleasure in violating the Islamic teenage women, their veils ripped off and their innocence taken before they were burnt on the cross as heretics. The men were flayed in the streets, their skins and bloodied bodies hung from trees and other street furniture. Flaying was one of the most gruesome method of execution, the skin ripped off from the bayonet of a DR-83. Hunting knives used to disembowel others, their organs then ripped from their bodies still warm and bloody, tossed onto the ground before the victims eyes. Jewish women were treated as the fat witches they were, the men were hung, drawn and quartered just as traitors to the Crown were treated in Clandonia. Their bodies were partially hung, causing minor asphyxiation then their genitals and entrails burnt like a beasts were done on a hunting trip before the beheading and the cutting of the limbs, scattered onto the ground for the birds and vermin to pick at.

They infidel would be purged, no matter who they were.

Southwestern Northford

Two volunteer brigades had joined the Doomani contingent in Northford, most of the ten thousand strong crusader force arriving on charter and commercial flights from the mainland. The small civilian force had been kitted out in Doomani gear to integrate them into the Doomani ranks, they were not just a bunch of a misfit civilians but were trained reserves. Sent by the church to fight and provide help to the Doomani, a mix of teachers, lawyers, doctors, IT technicians, every day Clandonians citizens. With no formal chain of command a group of the more senior members had decided to give the command to a man named Adrian Colligous-Octavious, a educated upper middle class man from a private Catholic grammar he was fluent in Doomani Latin and ideal for speaking to Legatus Propraetoris C. Publius Silvanus.

He was dispatched to speak to the Doomani, it was odd for the ten thousand or so Clandonians, with their distinctive Clandonian accent and the only speakers of formal and polite Clandonian English, brushing off their rusty Latin so they could work with the Doomani units in their retrospective trades. Out at sea a Broadsword Anti-Air Battlecruiser, HMS Merion which had been observing Cravanian and Illorian communications as they moved towards to the Strobovian Strait had signalled the information of the Doomani strike from their agents to the relay post at Kirkland for attention of the Admiralty at Warminster.

Information was worth its weight in gold at this crucial time, even with the most unorthodox methods of collecting it was the preservation of the nation and neutrality.

Allanean Newscast, morning of July 14th

Good morning, freemen! This Liberty-City speaking!

We are happy to report the successful continuation of the allied offensives on Ceylon, in Azaha, on the isles of Khartoum, in the Strobovian Straits, Khoultum and Makhtoum. Furthermore, Army Group Serendis and the mighty Kahanistani warriors are holding as a rock, and the Doomani-Questarian fascist aggressor is breaking his neck against the valiant Allanean and allied forces, standing as a single wall to protect civilization from the Questarian racist, from the Doomani theocrat, and the Azahan islamofascist.

Glory to the Allanean Army! May it bring Glory to our lovely Queen! May God Bless Allanea!

Strobovia Strait
ALLANEAN CLOYSTER COAST FLEET

“Incoming! Brace for impact, prepare CIWS, ready to fire at incoming enemy missiles! Fire! Fire!”

As the Questarian rockets came in, the Allaneans deployed a variety of countermeasures. Several EMP-payload missiles were launched at the incoming wave of munitions, culling it down. Hundreds of cruise missiles were shot down by CIWS, and many diverted by decoys and electronic warfare. And yet, missiles did come through.

The cruiser Franklin Delano Roosevelt was the first to die as a cruise missile bit through the base of a main-caliber turret, three deck levels and finally exploded in it’s ammunition magazine.

The result was nothing short of awesome. Five thousand tons of explosives went off in the space of two seconds, and the ship was literally ripped apart. CIWS turrets were thrown in the air like giant flaming tennis balls from hell, and so were two of the main caliber turrets, spinning gently in mid-air as they flew.

The cruiser Glory in Battle was on fire, tipping slowly as it began to sink, crewmen cut off from it’s lifeboats by the raging fuel fire. Some jumped overboard in desperation, others shot themselves to avoid death by drowning. Then, fifteen minutes later, the Glory in Battle capsized and sank. Those few that were still alive on the surface were mauled by the immense screws. Of the majority of the crew, not enough was left to bury. Only two crew members survived the Questarian attack.

The carrier Simone was tipped rapidly on it’s side, aircraft thrown across the deck like toys, killing random crew members who happened to be in their path, hurtling down and off the deck like mad horses. One kilometer to it’s south-west, it’s sister ship the Natalie burned slowly without sinking, its black, acrid smoke blotting out the sun.

“All hands, report to damage control! I repeat, report to damage control!”

Fire enveloped the fuel storages of the cruiser Salvation, and poisonous smoke began to fill the halls. People were dying, suffocating as the oxygen in their emergency masks ran out, and yet kept fighting – fighting to put out fires, fighting to close breaches, fighting to keep the weapons systems going.

The Salvation did not sink, but it’s RADAR arrays and most of the main-caliber weapons became completely useless. But it still could fight, of sorts. Not that it mattered. The Questarians were still too far away for a serious engagement.

Strobovia Strait
ALLANEAN SAN-NEREIANA FLEET

“Preparing battle group for launch at my command!”

“Wing Delta-Six, you are clear for launch.”

Air wing after air wing, squadron after squadron, the Air Armada took off, unrwrapping it’s complete front of 1,250 aircraft, traveling at full speed towards the Questarian ships.

“Approaching target range, entering attack turn.”

The high-speed jet aircraft did not bother to attack the Questarian shipping. They decided – likely with justification – that the Questarian CIWS was too powerful to be targeted by anything but commensurate naval forces. Instead, they turned towards Kahanistan, passing over areas of complete Kahanistani aerial domination.

They did not bother to engage anything in direct combat either. This too, was not their mission. Instead, they carried a cargo of gliding cluster munitions towards their foes, a total of 2,500 tons of bombs. They released them twenty kilometers from the Doomani lines and flew home.

The pilots were still giggling as the cluster bombs – half of them anti-personnel and half anti-tank – were already opening up over the Doomani positions.

KAHANISTAN ARMY GROUP

They did not know that at that very time the strategic bombing fleet that previously bombed the Azahan capital was en route to South Haven yet again – and would be there within several hours.

They also did not know that, at that very moment, the Doomani attack on the Kahanistan air bases failed completely. The runways were ruined in some places – but Kahanistan is a giant desert, and practically all of it is useable as a runway. In extremis, a few tons of sand shifted in the right place – and you have yourself a new runway.

Additionally, the Allanean aircraft were distributed among multiple runways, and protected by both Allanean and Kahanistani MTHEL systems. But still, some where damaged, and some had no runway to take off from. And so, only 20 Ank’riat bombers could take off. They carried the excellent ZMI products, the Il-05 and -10 cluster and anti-tank munitions.

In the meanwhile, the enemy Sariel bombers never stood a chance. The Allaneans have studied their own Sariels extensively, and knew of several ways to detect them. One was to use carrier-free RADAR, the kind that Kahanistani ships and AA stations were already notable for – and which, interestingly enough, was difficult to target with HARM.

The ‘Shadows’ were scrambled, to attack the Atratus aircraft by long range missile, and then to enter into dog fighting range.

The next Allanean attack would follow later – eight hours later, as 150 Kestril aircraft would pass undetected through the Kahanistani-controlled waters, flying right from the Allanean homeland. Between them, they carried 3000 tons of bombs for the Doomani soldiers.

San-Nereiana Army Group

“Finally, there is work for us!”

Ten Izistani Gorgon Mark I and 8 ZMI Ocelot spacecraft dove towards the Questarian spaceplanes. They targeted them with all weapons they had – approximately 1,200 space-to-space missiles of various calibers, as well as a variety of XASERs and LASERS, accompanied by fire from the automatic 105mm cannon and various CIWS that the Gorgons possessed. After that, they also launched 60 space torpedoes at the enemy.

Simultaneously, the Allaneans’ own spaceplanes appeared. They were much lighter then their Questarian analogs, and yet carried five STS missiles each. Between them, it meant 600 missiles targeting 62 spaceplanes.

In the meanwhile, the Questarian strategic bombers were being fired upon by immense amounts of munitions. In the harbors, most of the Air Defense Vessels have not been out at sea yet. From these craft, hundreds of theater air defense missiles fired at the Questarian aircraft, struggling to defend the air fields. Scrambled from the carriers still in harbor in the North were 2,500 Falcon aircraft, send to hold off the vast amounts of Questarian fighters.

And still, some of the rockets and missiles came through. As such, the Allanean response to the Questarian armored offensive would be limited – or at least, seriously reduced.

* * *

“Marshal, we have received news that our Samson complement was attacked by enemy guided missiles and artillery munitions!”

“And?”

“So was our main complement. Happily, the losses were not as bad as they had likely expected. MTHEL and SEPS had defended us to an extent, and some of the stuff that got through still got shot down by active defense. Also the earthen defenses have become very useful. Regardless, we lost 2,000 Samsons..”

“Ouch. Ouch.”

“That’s the word, Sir. We also lost 6,000 Nakils – about two thirds of them weren’t crewed at the time, the crews were not supposed to be on shift.”

“That’s actually a good thing.”

“Yeah, but still… we also lost 20,000 men from the bombardment, and over ten thousand various IFV’s and 3,406 light tanks. We also have incoming enemy tanks from two directions, Sir.”

“What can we muster in terms of air support?”

“About half of our full capacity, Sir. The airfield damage will take some time to repair. And our arty is a bit busy.”

* * *

While the Questarian artillery was indeed large and numerous, it was not as effective as it’s owners would expect it to be – not only because the Allaneans were spread out and used SEPS, but also because of their temporary earthen fortifications. Between SEPS, MTHEL, and the other ‘goodies’ the Allaneans used, the immense losses they suffered were still less then what they would have taken if they did not do these things. The anti-tank mines were almost completely ineffective, since the vehicles were currently static in their positions.

But now, the Allanean artillery would answer. If the Questarians thought their complement numerous, then this – a complement of 90,000 rapid-fire artillery guns and 11,000 Samsons, accompanied by a thousand MRLS launchers – would completely break their illusions. Within the first minute, 2,400,000 rounds of ammunition were fired by the various weapons system. Within the first five minutes of bombardment, the amount went to an amazing total of five million rounds – and then the artillery stopped, by virtue of simply exhausting it’s on-board weaponry. All of this was concentrated on one type of targets alone – the Questarian artillery systems, with approximately 200 rounds per every artillery piece in the Questarian army (in comparison, the Questarians expended one round per 0.7 Allanean vehicles targeted).

In the meanwhile, the Allanean CAS aircraft scrambled in the direction of the Questarian spearheads. They could no longer deliver the usual 25,000-ton bombings. Airfield damage and and battlefield confusions have reduced their capacity 11,000 tons of anti-tank gliding submunitions. This, the Allaneans knew, would not be enough – but it was possible for the CAS craft to fly more then one mission in eight hours. As a matter of fact, they would fly three missions in a row, pausing only to refill their bomb pilons. They were not instructed that the strategic air armada that had bombed the capital of Azaha was already on it’s way – and thus, they worked as if in a frenzy, delivering a total of 440,000 anti-armor submunitions to the turret tops of the Questarian tanks and tank destroyers. Each of the submunitions weighted about 25 kilos, dividing into five five-kilo ‘Skeets’ with individual infra-red or optical guidance. It was those ‘Skeets’ that would begin to cause trouble for the Questarian tankers.

Those tanks that survived this attack would survive being attacked by a rain of over two million ‘Skeets’ would proceed rather safely for the next few hourss or so.

++Seven hours after the initial artillery exchange

“Artillery command calling! Incoming Questarian tanks!”

There was the semblance of chaos – men rushing to and fro, vehicle hatches being slammed shut, turrets spinning, targeting orders given. But it was not chaos. It was ordered – the manner of order into which well-trained men fall in extreme situations.

“At my command! Towards the incoming enemy armor!”

The troops were ready.

“Fire!”

The desert came to life. Within the first minute, 2,000,000 shells were released towards the Questarian tanks. The artillery fired and fired and fired, until they ran out of ammunition once more –high-explosive shells, shells carrying multiple anti-tank submunitions, guided shell. The MRLS launchers rained down guided anti-armor armor missiles on the enemy tanks.

The Samsons bid their time – for them it was too early The crew of the other cannon worked hastily in conjunction with the crews of their service vehicles to reload their autoloading devices. And the enemy tanks were coming nearer.

“Enemy tanks, ETA thirty-five minutes!”

Overhead, a roar of hundreds of jets was heard. It was the Strategic Air Armada, the same people who bombed the Azahan capital twice already. Now, however, they were coming over an area controlled by the Allaneans – San-Nereiana – to emerge over the heads of the Allaneans. This time around, the Armada was also escorted by 100 AN-224 cargo aircraft, converted to carry bombs in the emergency – boosting it’s bomb capacity to an amazing 71,000 tons. Over the horizon, powerful explosions were heard as the Armada released it’s payload – 71,000 tons of the same submunitions that the close-air support wings hit the Questarians with. In laymen’s terms, this translated to 2.84 million submunitions or 14.2 million Skeets.

“Enemy tanks ETA thirty minutes, fire!”

The artillery had fired for the third time. Now, the Samsons joined in. But there was no time to load up all the cannon again, and the attack was bloody pathethic compared to what happened before – only about 120,000 shells were fired, most of them by the Samsons.

“Enemy tanks, ETA eleven minutes!”

The Pilum ATGMs were fired. Every single Nakil 1A1 on the front was armed with them, but not all were near enough to bring them to bear. But that was compensated for – every Allanean combat vehicle, from the humble IFV’s to the MBT was equipped with anti-tank weapons, and additionally, the Allaneans brought over 42,000 Tagus ATGM crews with them. They were shielded by hastily-built sand fortification and freshly-dried concrete that was only poured that morning, but the Questarians were basically riding in along the open plain – and the closer they got to the Allanean line, the more troops would be able to fire at them. By the time they got within range of sabots, they would have already been targeted by at least one hundred and twenty thousand missiles.

Isles of Makhtoum and Khoultum

“Damn it. Their forty is still mostly in place, commander.” – shrugged the young man. He was Hans Brever, the commander of the divisions’ reconnaissance battalion.

Brigade-General Crommaus shrugged. – “Listen up, boy. It doesn’t matter. Within a few minutes…”

The scream of Falcon jets and cruise missiles tore the air. The reconnaissance troops blinked as two squadrons passed over ‘their’ island. The aircraft have come from a carrier in the South, and brought laser-corrected bombs to bear on the fortifications on Makhtoum. On Khoultum, 3 squadrons operated.

This was followed up by cruise missile salvos from Arsenal ships CD-X4 and CD-X5. Within minutes, each of the islands has been attacked by 1,300 cruise missiles – the full load of an arsenal ship, aimed at destroying the emplacements around the main forts.

Then, and only then, the Allanean troops advanced into the breaches.

These were Allanean Airborne troops, and they were quite as good as the Questarian Marines – but they had a few advantages. There were more of them on the islands, they wore powered armor, and they weren’t shell-shocked by recent bombardment.

They closed in on the enemy, cleaning the trenches out with flamers and grenades, engaging the Questarians in hand-to-hand combat in which their powered armor could snap a man’s neck with a single slap, stabbed with bayonets and shot with guns. They knew no mercy and no fear. With chainsword and rifle, with grenade and bullet, with knife and fist, they fought.

In Metzuda

Before one protects a house from the ouside, one must protect it from within. This, the Allaneans knew. And thus, they took action.

The first act of the grotesque play that the Allaneans intended for the Clandonian crusaders was enacted by a single TR-29 Samson of the 25th Hebrew Hammers Armored Division – the sole Allanean armored division in presence in Kahanistan. At noon precisely, it drove right into the street in front of the embassy.

With a nearly-inaudible squelching noise, the tank ran one of the embassy guards down.

“Hahaha, PWNed.” – giggled the tank gunner as he turned the turret around. “Commander, ready to fire, HE and Incendiary mix!”

“Give it to them straight.”

The cannon fired ten times in a space of as many seconds, pumping ten 140mm rounds into what was a purely civilian building. As it collapsed, the giggling of the Allanean tankers became maniacal laughter.

* * *

“So they’re trying to…rape muslim women? Don’t they know that every woman in Kahanistan carries a goram rifle?” – said the tank commander.

“That’s what they said on the radio, Sir. Oh, look! Clandonians!”

The Clandonian’s weapons could do no harm to a Samson tank. It’s weapon, however – the UV “Dazzler” ray system sliced neatly across their eyes. Seconds later, they screamed in pain, blinded permanently by the weapon, their faces scorched as if from a horrible sun burn.

The commander switched on his loudspeaker:

HEARKEN, CLANDONIANS. YOU ARE BLIND NOW IN BODY, AS YOU WERE IN SPIRIT. YOU WERE EVIL, INTOLERANT,, BARBAROUS – AND NOW YOU LOOKED UNTO THE FACE OF GOD, AND A VENGEFUL GOD IS HE. THE SWORD OF OUR QUEEN IS UNSHEATHED, AND IT SHALL DESCEND UPON YOU AND YOURS.

Apart for their now permanent blindness, these particular Clandonians were not harmed. Elsewhere, the Allaneans were less kind.

Two apartment blocks away, the Allanean of the 2nd Airborne have captured five Clandonians who were preparing to sexually assault a Kahanistani girl. The Airborne troops used the distraction of the Clandonians to attack them by surprise. Within minutes, four of the five were dead. The fifth was brought before the detachment commander, screaming in pain as one of his legs was broken.

“Hello, Clandonian.” – grinned the commander as he took out his huge bayonet-knife. “I think I am going to have fun today.”

“My god, no! Please! Mercy!”

“See, I always wanted me a nice pelt…”

“No, please! Please!”

The Allanean grinned. “Thought you’d say that. String him up, boys!”

Minutes later, the Clandonian, still alive, was tied to the glacis plate of an Allanean armored vehicle, to serve as a sort of decoration – or perhaps a way to stop bullets from scratching the outer surfaces of the armor.

Everywhere, the Allaneans were descending upon the Clandonians with the same motto:

“No survivors! No survivors!”

Clandonians were ripped apart by IFV’s, thrown out of hotel windows, bayoneted and set on fire. Their bodies decorated armored vehicles and hung from balconies. Their skins and skulls were removed for trophies. Only small Clandonian children were allowed to live. Any other Clandonian was now associated with the Crusades.

“NO SURVIVORS!”

VDFNS Champion, Vetakan Humanitarian Fleet Red Nightingale, Strobovia Strait:

The Vetakan Defence Force Naval Ship (VDFNS) Champion was a Champion Class Supercarrier (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12076390&postcount=75) she had been ordered to join the Red Nightingale Humanitarian Fleet to support the Fleets Operations whilst in the Storm Torn nation of Aqua Anu which was recovering from Hurricane Karen. However now that the nation was recovered and Vetakan Support was no longer required the fleet had been slowly returning to Vetaka. Haven was one of the worlds richest regions it was also one of the safest well that was when Haven wasn't at war.

As part of Vetakan Shipping Protocal all Vetakan Shipping be they Military or Merchant travelled through Haven on Operations all the time. Today was no different the only difference was that the great QC-NATO war had broken out and all the Vetakans could do was watch live streaming in OBSAT:

"Sir" spoke a female Ensign sitting at her station.

Looking up Admiral Charles Walker "Charlie" for short sighed slightly as he witnessed the Coolness of death live on Television. On the Bridges main viewing Screen a massive HD Screen the moment the HIQMS Bernie Goetz began to sink was playing out. Charlie was a man of around 6ft1 with brown hair and blue eyes he had an average build watching the Khan Missiles hit Questarian Carrier a single tear streamed his face. Vetakans where not emotional people by nature they where simply peaceful and sought that Peace where ever they went and whatever they did. All a Vetakan wanted to do where ever she or he went was to help people. Admiral Charlie turned to his XO whose female face was also streamed with a Tear they nodded at eachother it had never been proven before but it was said Vetakans had miniumal telepathy abilities to an extent it was true, Admiral Charlie began barking orders to his Bridge Staff:

"Bring us to Tactical Alert, Tell the Mercy Hospital Ships to prepare for casualties. Change course to rendezvous with the Questarian Fleet. Move to a Defensive Formation and launch the Fighters. Defensive Patrols do not engage unless forced to do so. Ready Choppers for SAR Operations"

"Yes Sir" came a number of replies from across the Bridge.

"Send a message to the Questarian Admiralty, Inform them of who we are and what we have. Request Permission to launch SAR Rescues of the sunken Carriers" orderd Charlie

"Eye Sir" replied the Communications Office

OBSAT BATTLEFIELD COMMUNICATION

TO: QUESTARIAN ADMIRATLY COMBINED FLEET STROBOVIA STRAIT
FROM: VDFNS CHAMPION CARRIER GROUP RED NIGHTINGALE

ATTENTION QUESTARIAN COMBINED FLEET ADMIRALTY THIS IS VDFNS CHAMPION OF THE VETAKAN HUMANITARIAN FLEET RED NIGHTINGALE STOP CURRENTLY SOUTH OF YOUR POSITION REQUEST PERMISSION TO BEGIN SEARCH AND RESCUE OPERATIONS OF SUNKEN CARRIERS STOP INTEND TO TRANSFER ALL SURVIOURS TO QUESTARIAN HOMELAND FULL STOP

Carrier Group Red Nightingale:

1 Champion Class Supercarrier
7 Mercy Class Hospital Ships
2 Wasp Class Helicopter Carriers
4 Ticonderoga Class Missile Cruisers
5 Daring Class Air Defense Destroyers
5 Arleigh Burke Class Missile Destroyers
2 Allgero Class Attack Submarines

4 Chieftain Class Pocketbattleships

Downing Street, Warminster

The changing of the guard was often televised on CBC2 as a nice end to the working week before Parliament shut down for the weekend at three o’clock as it shut down for summer recess. MP’s off to the House Bar, MP student researchers off out for a night of boozing celebrating the end of the Parliamentary year, civil servants off to the publican houses and journalists back to their desks for preparation of the Friday Late editions and the Saturday morning front pages. The drizzle that had begun early morning had now transcended into heavy rain soaking the streets of the capital as the rush hour began. Sirens shrieked through the city traffic, in it sat Lord President of the Privy Council, Lord Alexander Stovington. The police escort motorcycles pulled across the main interception as the car entered through the black anti-terrorism gates of Downing Street. Parliament was out for the summer now, despite the poor weather the roads out of the capital were busy as people went North to the lakes or further along the South the pleasant sandy beaches.

The driver had barely put the gear stick into the park mode before a police officer with a sub machine gun had opened the door escorting the Lord into the entrance hall of Ten Downing Street. The door clerk nodding to the man as he walked, the double doors opened by the two army fatigued men who guarded the entrance to the cabinet rooms and the Prime Ministers private office. Paintings of former Prime Ministers hung on the staircase that led to the private flat where Sistilin lived with his family. Lord Stovington did not have to wait, being head of the Privy Council allowed certain powers of seeing those seated in power. The PM was sorting through the paper work of the last day with his private secretary.

“Ah good afternoon Lord Stovington, would you like some tea?” Greeted the PM, standing up in the presence of the Lord.

“Yes, I suppose so I will be here awhile.” Replied Lord Stovington, the private secretary knowing she would not be required went away as one of the servants brought the tea tray in.

“So, I don’t know if you looked at the news today about this God awful war in the Southern Seas, they are wondering why we have not attacked the Midlonians yet.” Spoke the PM, flicking through the paperwork on his desk, it seemed to have increased with the advent of war.

“His Majesty wishes the government the best and does not want the country to be dragged into this ‘pointless war’, His Majesty’s words not mine. At any rate its detrimental, oil shares are down and the market is jittery as they worry about how it’s going to affect shipping in the Strobovian Straits.”

“We have escorts on the ships, I will ensure that the forces of the Royal Navy and Fleet Air Arm do not fire the first shots of war. I have no interest in taking this country into war, the elections will be soon and having the blood of millions of young Clandonians on one’s hands is not a great manifesto publication.”

“Liberal conservatism must continue its policy of intervention on matters that affect individualism, ultimately that of His Majesty’s subjects, not of Questers colonial possessions. This war is bloody pointless, this country has a better future and even if I show concerns over some of the NATO powers I do not wish to be drawn into such a conflict.”

“Indeed, I will inform the Privy Council and His Majesty this evening at the Mayors Dinner tonight in Warminster. I take it your away for the weekend, the six day weeks must be rather tiresome.”

“What about the situation in Kahanistan?” Asked Lord Stovington, sipping his tea and lighting up his pipe that he had just pulled from his pocket.

“Kahanistan worries me, Clandonians have gone despite orders of the Crown saying there is a blanket travel ban, I will not react to the fact there have been killings, the ‘crusaders’ have chosen their path. I will not intervere on a level that will directly affect this countries neutrality. They attacked the embassy that some quatters were using, its been empty for months, I never understood the Allaneans much, nice chaps but a little trigger happy.”

“Oh well, nothing to do, a couple of hundred dead religious zealots is nothing major, the government gave travel advice and there is not diplomatic presence in the country. I will tell the King about it, I doubt he will care to much if the government has told people, still worrying but indeed there is nothing your or the Privy Council can do now.”


Metzuda, Kahanistan

The attack on the old embassy had killed the Kahanistani guard and some squatters who were using the building, the Clandonian Foreign and Commonwealth Office had refused to recognise the country until they apologised over the numerous nationalist slurs and attacks on Clandonian allies. Those in other parts of the city had been less fortunate, killed in their safe houses. Those that died had done so for God, spitting in the faces their bloodied remains of teeth and the Allanean dogs before they were brutally murdered by the heretic Jew lovers. The were less than one hundred Clandonians, mostly Catholic aid workers who had gone to help the crusaders. Their deaths and rumours of violation against the nuns only angered them more.

Requests for Doomani anti-tank weapons were sent via runners, they had seen worse as the Allaneans had pulled themselves into the war. Nearly five thousand still remained in Metzuda, ordered to take cover from Candarian bombing raids who joined with the Doomani in their Holy War in the defence of Catholicism. The splinter cells declared Holy War on the Allaneans in the capital, road side bombs, sabotage and terrorism they would be subjected to avenge the deaths of their brothers and sisters. Snipers high in the sky scrapers of the concrete jungle fired upon the Allaneans, weekend hunters normally hunting wild boar or bears now picked off another animal, the Allanean soldier.

Using the ancient medieval method of siege the Doomani would get a helping hand, poisoning the water supply of the city was the plan. Flinging test tubes of Botulism and Cholera into a water treatment plant hoping to cause panic and fear in an act of 21st century bioterrorism. They had more tricks up their sleeve’s, with several scientists in the crusaders possessing knowledge in the fields of biochemistry and microbiology, fearsome weapons could be brewed up in Petri dishes and civilian fermenters.

Normally, no Kahanistanian soldier would ever target civilian populations. Normally, even accidental civilian deaths usually resulted in the court-martial and end of the career for the unfortunate commander involved. Normally, the ideology of the Kahanistanian military was to consider civilian and prisoner life sacrosanct, even if it caused them to lose battles or wars.

The buck stopped here.

With the declaration of a state of emergency, General al-Ghazi now had nearly unlimited power over the military. M7T1 and M7T2 Spartacus main battle tanks rolled through the streets of Metzuda, shelling any house suspected of holding terrorists. Not even Clandonian children were spared; they would be flayed alive in Doomani fashion by the more sadistic Republic Marines, then their skins hung from the 105mm guns of the heavily armoured 75-ton tanks.

The soldiers also proceeded to bulldoze entire neighbourhoods should terrorists not be reported. Sometimes, to minimise military and maximise terrorist casualties, MOAB II depopulation bombs were used. These were similar to MOAB's, but found a new use for the dangerously impractical LiF compound intended for use as ICBM fuel; a shell the size of a MOAB was compartmentalised and one third filled with lithium, another third with fluorine, and the last with hydrogen. The Li and F might be too corrosive for long-term storage as ICBM fuel, but the bomb would last long enough to be dropped on terrorist strongholds.

The soldiers committing these atrocities had been told that the whole neighbourhoods had been taken over by terrorists, and everyone who was not a terrorist had fled. This was a damnable lie.

Over 60,000 citizens of Metzuda would die that day, along with an unknown number of terrorists.

---

Since the Candrian bombers (http://www.forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12925558&postcount=70) had come from Kriegorgrad, it was initially assumed that the crews were Kriegos. As such, General al-Ghazi decided to punish Kriegorgrad for its attack on civilian populations.

Deep within an armoured underground bunker, thirty Naram-Sin strategic bombers (http://www.forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=8604139&postcount=37), each loaded to the brim with air-to-air and various air-to-surface missiles, including incendiary and radiological weaponry [OOC: Not nuclear, but a conventional bomb with Cobalt-60 or the longer-lived Caesium-137] headed for Kriegorgrad at maximum altitude, escorted by 1,500 GLI-76's - the most he could spare from the northern front.

The Falcons flew at their ceiling of 16,400 metres, but anything that wanted a pop at the Naram-Sin's had to get past them. While they were being fired on three missiles to a fighter, a missile travelling at Mach 5 is significantly less maneuverable than an experienced pilot travelling at Mach 1.7.

---

Northern Line

The northern defences finally activated some of their RADAR's, five decoys to each radar, and spare radar equipment was being hauled out of the bunkers to replace what the Doomani had managed to destroy.

Each SAM battery was capable of tapping into more than one RADAR emitter, so even a HARM strike was not guaranteed to blind them. With CIWS attached to the radars, and LIDAR and IRST being employed on a massive scale, not much was getting through the first line, at least yet.

From Seaburg Independent Online Edition
Independent.hts

http://img169.imageshack.us/img169/7624/ministerscc6.jpg
Hanne Akselsen, Secretary of State for Health, Labor and Public Social Services,
announced the latest round of humanitarian aid missions and offers
to the press. Across town, Noach Schöntheil, President of the
Imperial Reserve Bank, announced to the Federal Council that
the IRB and Royal Treasury are to acquire trillions of kroner
worth of government and sovereign bonds.

Trillions to be Invested; Millions to be Saved

The United Realms further stepped into the maelstrom of the unfolding Havenic War today with the announcement that the Imperial Reserve Bank and Royal Treasury are to invest over five trillion kroner ($10.25 trillion USD) in Questarian government bonds. This comes on top of a two and a half trillion kroner emergency loan package to Northford and a two trillion kroner combined government-private industry loan made to the Tyrandisan government.

In his midday address to the Federal Council, Mr Schöntheil was careful to emphasize the nature and purpose of the latest round of bond buying, "We are not in any way signaling support for the current policies of the Questarian government. We were offered the opportunity to purchase bonds that will help ensure the continuance of essential government and community functions." Opposition senators suggested that such large investments in Questers, even when balanced with large loans to NATO members, could expose the United Realms to charges of favoritism. Foreign Office officials are quick to dispute such assertions. A senior bureaucrat, who asked to be kept anonymous, told the Independent that "the United Realms have entered into explicit non-aggression pacts with many NATO members. We have excellent and clear lines of communication with our QC and NATO allies and all involved realize the value of Hamptonian neutrality."

The United Realms have received several requests for investments from nations on both sides of the current conflict. The Senior Cabinet authorized the non-partisan Imperial Reserve Bank and its professional bureaucrats to independently evaluate all legitimate offers. The Bank has yet to release the terms of the latest transaction but outside industry analysts expect the bonds to pay handsome dividends for the IRB and Treasury. "The IRB is not a charity, nor it is a political machine," says Dr. Michelle Rasmussen, Professor of Economics at the University of Portshire, "the Bank, its governors and Mr Schöntheil are there to safeguard the fiscal and monetary stability of the empire."

Viscount Manoukarakis, Ambassador to the Stratocratic Confederacy of Questers, will inform the Questarian king later today of the IRB's decision. At the same time Lord Easton, Minister of State for Havenic Affairs, will conclude his emergency trip to The Silver Sky. Lord Easton was there to confer with Skyian authorities in how best to evacuate citizens from the Paramount Islands, currently under attack by Questarian Commonwealth forces. The Royal Armed Forces is also to begin the process of evacuating civilians from the Cravaian territory of Dresdon City. Dresdonians will be transported to Hamptonshire Proper and housed for the duration of the conflict. Federal government and Hamptonian Red Cross officials expect the United Realms to process up to tens of millions of temporary and permanent refugees.

In addition, the DoDI and the Department of Health, Labor and Public Social Services (DHLPSS) has readied three full service hospital ships and five "Primary Casualty Receiving Ships" currently in or near the Strobovia Strait to render post-battle medical assistance to civilians and military personnel in the area. One of the hospital ships, the HNSS Permanente, will be dispatched to Carpanthium to provide water, emergency rations and medical assistance to civilians in the territory. The Scandavian government has allowed Hamptonian humanitarian assistance vessels to use ports in the Duchy of Aurora. "Staging and supplying from a temporary forward base in Aurora will help us save thousands more lives," says Captain Torben Giese (RN), Commanding Officer of the hospital ship HNSS Blue Shield. A Royal Navy spokesperson said that medical assistance will be primarily geared toward civilians, but that the hospital ships and their staff would not in good conscience turn away anyone requiring aid.

At her press conference Secretary Akselsen said to reporters that the, "Federal government intends to provide to as many Havenic people as is practical the necessities to ensure life during this time of war. I once more extend our open offer of humanitarian assistance to any nation [in Haven] currently touched by the conflict." The Secretary is scheduled to depart tomorrow morning with Commerce, Transport and Energy Secretary Lukas Hornsby to continue talks with the Dontian government.

With the Aequatians taking off as soon as things got shitty, and the Kahanistanian military resorting to ever more ruthless methods of eliminating both Clandonian terrorists and anti-Catholic murderers, General al-Ghazi asked the government of Hamptonshire to aid in the evacuation of millions from the western shipping lanes.

Official Statement from the Free Havenic Republic of Kahanistan
Ministry of Defence

http://www.nationstates.net/images/flags/uploads/kahanistan.jpg

The Government of Kahanistan has been forced to resort to regrettable methods to eradicate sectarian terrorism within its capital, including the destruction of homes suspected to be terrorist hideouts.

Currently, we have sealed the cities with the exception of our western coastal cities; nobody enters but anyone may leave. We request a humanitarian fleet to rendezvous with the Republic Navy at our western cities of North and South Freetown, where an estimated thirty million refugees wait to be evacuated.

I must warn that anti-Catholic sentiment, while declining, is still a formidable presence in Kahanistan. Exercise all due caution.
Signed,
General Abdullah Hassan al-Ghazi,
Supreme General of the Republic

Millingston International Airport, Cravanian Overseas Territory

Landing on the tarmac of the airport were the hulking C-181A Starlifter II transports of the Air Force Air Mobility Command as the beginning of the massive airlift effort started for the allied forces on the ground. Aequatian Republic Air Force and Cravanian logisticians started the work of unloading the pallets of ammunition ranging from small arms, grenades, tank and artillery shells. Soon enough, the forces of the 82nd Marine Expeditionary Brigade from the now defunct ARMIK mandate in Kahanistan. The first of the personnel to arrive, other than the ARAF logistics units, were the military and government intelligence agency to discuss the next moves and deployments that the Republic would be making in Southwest Haven. Among the several score of specialists was Alicia Webb, an intelligence analyst working for the Sicherndienst or "Security Service" which was the premier intelligence agency in the Republic. As soon as the Air Force C-767A was on the ground, the passengers were quickly, as per Cravanian orders, moved to waiting vehicles since the Northfordians were still a major threat to the area.

Among the initial group were also military commanders, the man chosen the lead the Operation Haven Sentry Mission to the C.O.T. would be Air Force General Harold Goodwin as overall commander-in-chief, with Admiral Marcus Daly as his deputy and Chief of Naval Operations. Goodwin and his staff had arrived hours before and were already in place to speak with the Cravanians about the coming operations that would be undertaken, especially in the Strob to support the NATO operations. Once things had settled, the general called for a meeting with his allied counterparts to begin the discussions as soon as the remaining members of his staff arrived, including his joint military/government intelligence personnel.

----------

Nemiroffsk, San Nereiana, Southwest Haven

The paratroopers of the 6th Airborne Division had been on the ground for only a short while, but had adjusted well to the local climate, many of them reminded of their coastal homes in many of the Republic's own cities. Although the soldiers were not offered much of a chance to enjoy that climate too well, having been confined to their field protective equipment since their arrival in-theatre. Sergeant Elliot Joch, a section leader, sat with the soldiers under his command in the back of an M38 transport truck as they took part in a field training exercise with the rest of their battalion. There had been a long list of complaints by the soldiers about the constantly changing mandate of Operation Haven Sentry, especially having been redirected twice en route to finally landing in the Allanean territory, the second of which was what exactly was the mandate of the operation.

Federal Chancellery, Obsidia

Chief Cabinet Secretary Marcelo Paredes had called Carl Fashingbauer, the Deputy Defense Secretary, to his office in the ornate Federal Chancellery to discuss the latest developments in the Havenic war. The war was less than thirty-six hours old but the land and water of Haven was already stained with blood and charred with fire. The Federal government was intent upon pursuing a strict policy of neutrality to keep the United Realms of a costly and ultimately pointless war. There were, of course, politicians that wanted the nation to align with one faction or the other, but Hamptonians were to be limited to supplying aid and assistance to the peoples of Haven. No one held more strictly to that than Paredes himself.

"Well, I do not want to get ahead of myself but it seems that reaction to yesterday's actions has been quite positive. I hope Carl," Paredes paused to pour himself a cup of tea, "that we can get through this whole mess without so much as a scratch." He motioned the tea pot to Fashingbauer, but he politely refused. "I called you to the office because of General al-Ghazi's request."

Fashingbauer clasped his hands together and sunk in his chair slightly. The Kahanistanis were, in his mind, one of the most troubling nations within Haven. Even with a war started by Questers raging, the Kahanistanis were viewed as fundamentally unstable. "Yes, I read the message and a RAFIS assessment of the situation. As much as I may like to say ignore the buggers, we cannot turn down a direct request. The size of the operation is another matter, however."

Paredes sipped his tea and nodded. "Yes, quite out of the question. It would take far too long to evacuate so many, especially if only using naval assets. If by some miracle we get the Doomani and company to allow us to fly in we could still only take a fraction in the time before the Kahanistani lines collapse. They would need to hold for weeks, months really, for us to get those people out of the area."

"Not to mention that it will somewhat strain our resources in the area," Fashingbauer interrupted, "the navy will have to reposition another hospital ship to deal with them. The sixth fleet will have to turn around so it can lend its helos and transports to the effort. Even then it will be a leapfrog action to get them out of harm's way and to the Dominions." Paredes finished drinking his tea.

"Well, we are going to have to do this. No way around that. I will have my office draft up a response to the General. If you could work with the Foreign Office to get the combatants in the theater on the same page with us, I would be much obliged." The sudden ring of the telephone silenced him.

The voice of one of the office's secretaries came over the intercom, "Mr Paredes, there is a call for you on line one." Marcelo hit the button, "Yes?"

"Marcelo, Carl it is nice to talk to both of you again." Chancellor Hayek said in a relaxed, yet commanding tone, "it has been too long." Indeed it had been, for almost half a year the Chancellor had been on forced medical leave after a series of strokes. Hayek was nearly fully recovered from the strokes, but for undisclosed reasons his doctors still advised him against returning to power. Despite his absence from the Capital Cities, his political power and public support were stronger than ever. "I want you both to know that the policies currently being pursued are exactly what needs to be done. We have to walk the thin line between both sides while never straying from our chosen path." He paused for a moment to wait for a response, when none came he continued. "I do not want to seem to be a pest, but I have a pressing issue to discuss with your Marcelo."

"Ah, well then, I think we better get on with that." Paredes picked up the phone's receiver and exchanged a handshake with Fashingbauer.


------


Your Excellency,
Despite our continued concerns for the safety of Catholic Hamptonian personnel, we cannot deny your urgent request for civilian evacuations. The hospital ship HNSS Salk and a group of transports detached from the Royal Navy's sixth fleet will be sent to assist in evacuation process. Due to the limits in surface ships and constraints imposed by geographical location we will able to evacuate no more than one hundred and twenty five thousand civilians at a time. We will attempt to negotiate with the other combatant nations to establish air routes into the two cities, but until agreements can be reached all operations will be naval in nature.

Yours sincerely,
[signed]
Marcelo Paredes
Chief Cabinet Secretary
United Realms of the Hamptonian Empire

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v42/allanea/kazansky.jpg

The Kahanistani MOAB-II weapons were very effective. So effective that they also obliterated several hundred Allanean troops who were busy exterminating the Clandonian population in the area.

Official Message from Alexander Kirillovich Kazansky to Al-Ghazi, broadcasted over all networks

Abdullah Hassan al-Ghazi, blessed by Allah, general of the Kahanistani armies!

You, Sir, are a fucking douchebag. You caused several hundred of my troops to die with no good reason, and you caused more of your own people to die then the Clandonians would have ever killed. You do not deserve to breathe - in fact, I would prefer you would stop doing so immediately, as the biosphere would likely find better uses for that oxygen.

I want to know, Abdullah, what the hell happened to your brain? It used to be quite good when you wrote ‘On the Amestrians and their lies’. What were you smoking that made you this stupid? Tell me, so I can avoid smoking it.

I am tired of wasting Allanean lives to protect your people, who, time and time again, continue on being stupid. This thing with bombing your own capital to fight terrorists whom I was already busy killing qualified for a Darwin award. I hereby withdraw the Sword of the Queen from your protection. All cargo aircraft en route to Kahanistan will be diverted to San-Nereiana, and the troops already there will prepare for evacuation.

In conclusion, I would like to thank you.

Thank you for cleaning up the gene pool by killing all those people of yours, smacktard.

"Bloody moron," General al-Ghazi growled as he slammed his computer down on the desk. "They didn't have a problem bombing our civilian buildings to remove Clandonians. Reap what you sow..."

General Samarra Rakhmadi seemed pleased. She hated Catholics with a passion, and was glad that most of them were fleeing as they still saw themselves as targets. Whatever surviving Clandonian terrorists there were had far fewer people to protect.

"What are you smiling about, General?" al-Ghazi demanded. "The Allaneans are running off to save their own asses, because of one friendly fire incident. The Aequatians are leaving us to rot. NATO doesn't give a damn about us except that we're killing mostly Questarian troops and draining resources from them, and that's only because the Questarian morons didn't think to ask us for the use of our land. No, I'm not going to try to talk to the Allaneans. They can sit back and watch as their international credibility takes a nosedive. Well, we've at least established that the MOAB-II bombs are effective. When the Naram-Sin's get ready for their second attack, I want the surviving ones loaded down with them."

"On the other hand... the Catholics are leaving," said Rakhmadi. "And with them goes the Doomani claim that they are protecting Catholics. Now, they will have to admit that the emperor is naked, and that they are bent on genocide. On top of that... we get to prove our international mettle on the world stage."

Al-Ghazi smiled. In a clear indication of his mental state, he looked at his Defence Minister.

"I like you. How would you like to be apppointed Military Governor of the Province of Kriegorgrad?"

Rakhmadi was shocked. She knew al-Ghazi was mad, but she never thought he was that mad. Try to exert sovereignty over Kriegorgrad, even in name only? Was al-Ghazi some kind of imperialist? Was he any different from the Questarians? Come to think of it, what with the butchery of Clandonian children... was he any better than Dreadfire?

"You don't have to answer right away," said al-Ghazi. "The offer remains open for a week before I extend it to someone else and they accept."

Barkozy

“Move ashore, come on now, step lively! Step Lively!” yelled the Midlonian with the small moustache as he waved a baton back and forth as the various armed jeeps and GEM carriers rumbled past.

The Drill-ships had at least done their jobs, and it now meant that equipment, albeit lighter than the usual Midlonian armour, was coming ashore, light tanks and personnel carriers as opposed to the heavier machinery.

Ramier Bay

“Move up the left hand side! Hurry hurry hu-” The bullet whipped and took out the throat of the NCO as he waved, with a gargle and a thud he fell to the floor and began to thrash.

“Medic! Get a bloody medic up here!”

“Sniper, two o’clock! Smash ‘em!”

The Building Basher rocket soared down the street and smashed into a building a few hundred yards down the street, sending rubble catapulting into the street below.

“Advance!”

The Midlonians had landed at the port itself a short while earlier, and were now in the grinding horror of street to street fighting against a surprisingly well formed and armed militia, they had around 40 dead so far in the first few minutes, with another 70 or so injured.


Okielahoma

The Midlonians had began to man boats of all shapes and sizes as they began to cross the strip between Midlonia and Okielahoma proper. With most of the Okielahoma fleet aflame, and various Midlonian vessels like the Minidestroyers, torpedo boats and Gun-Cutter Patrol Boats now moving into position to stop any Okielahoman remnants from attacking the chain of ships of all shapes and sizes now crossing the waterway between the Colony and the Okielahoman homeland.

The Midlonians began to advance. Landing at various ports and jetty’s under heavy fire provided by the ships in the channel, 5 and 6 inch shells rained down on the coastline until the Midlonians had advanced far enough in to safely set up artillery.

Leading the advance was Maj Gen Cartright. He was a tall, thin man who was about 6 feet tall. Gangly, with thin bony arms and a large nose he looked more like a hat stand when in his fatigues than an officer of high-rank, sat with his legs spread out he was almost lazily flicking through a map of the immediate local when a bullet whistled past and dinged off of the side of the Tortoise Armoured Command Unit he had stood outside of. Muttering he clambered back inside the torturous confines.

“Things seem to be going well so far, it appears a majority of the Government surrendered. However the Armed Forces are still proving problematic, along with minor localized resistance.”
Started Brigadier Green, a shorter man with chiselled features who was busy staring at the holo-table in the middle of the Tortoise.

“Yes yes Maurice, cut the rest, what’s this about the Armed Forces?”
“They appear to be forming up more towards the centre of the country, it’s better terrain out there.”

“So we advance and crush, bing, bang BOOM. Simple.” Shrugged the Major General.

“Yeah. Suppose so.”

--------------

Something fishy in the The United Realms?

Leak within Foreign Office suggests Hamptonshire moves “Fishy”.

With the latest declarations from the United Realms questions have been brought to light, just how the heck are the Hamptonians managing it?

Like most states in Haven right now a portion of their armed forces is at a state of readiness should they be attacked. But somehow the Hamptonians are managing to buy up literal Trillions of Kronor’s worth of into both the Questarian and Northfordian Economies [Which are sliding further and further to a Total-War status] meaning that they are now inadvertedly supporting the Questarian War-effort.

Overall the motives of the United Realms has to be questioned by we free-thinking peoples at this time, by supporting either side monetarily they are prolonging the war, and eventually the overall costs of those bonds, which could then be used, or rather abused, over policies within the states that sign up to the Hamptonians apparently Blank Cheque. This is effectively signing away most ability and power to the Hamptonians while ensuring benefits can be meted out more to their people and make the poor in the states who sign up poorer when they call in the bonds. Simple fact is that if any bonds were to be issued by the Midlonian government we are urging our own citizens to buy into them, and not the international market that seems to be perpetually led by the Hamptonians.

------------------------------

Within the thousands of aircraft already in the skies, the radar warning receivers came to life - a mess of beeps, lights, and hums. The radios came crackling to life. Two low beeps in quick succession - a broadcast message.

<click> All pilots, this is Nauarchus Marcello, 'Walls of Jericho' 1132 23, listen up and listen up good, otherwise you'll get shot out before we reach land. Those missiles are coming in from the south west - we have ways to duck out of them, but you all have to do exactly what your flight leaders say. Most of your radar warning recievers are blinking and beeping like mad - they're the things with the little picture of the plane an blinking dots with numbers around them. Those numbers are the distance, closing speed, altitude differential, and - note this one, time to close. Time to close is important, keep your eyes on that." The panic in his voice was clear - if he didn't get the message across, lives would be lost. "AWACS is saying these are high speed hit-to-kill missiles; there's one way to dodge them. Wait for TTC to hit under 5, then hit the flaps up, drop thrust to the lowest it can go, hit the chaff till it can't go any more, airbrakes, and DIVE LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER. Get as low as you can get; if you do it right the missiles will overshoot, and you'll get out of this alive." By now he was screaming into the radio; feedback and pops scratching against a nervous voice. One last reassurance of faith. "God is with you."<click>

All the pilots watched. The red TTI indicator on the radar warning reciever ticked down. 25. 20. 15. 10. 9. 8. The silence, deafening. The roar of 12,000 3 meter wide jet engines not enough to fill the void. 7. Dear god. Not long now. 6. Agonizing. The more nervous pilots began to dive now... a mistake. 5. A glorious sight. 3,000 bombers in this group alone going from 16,000 meters and 660 miles per hour to 12,000 and 400 in seconds. Chaff going off like glorious fireballs, a measure of protection that looked as threatening as it did awe inspiring.

But it wasn't enough.

The aircraft that dived early; the THAAD missiles hit them, strikes on the empennage obliterating their rear control surfaces, blasts to the centers ripping gashes the size of B52s in through the body, hits to the belly bursting the 200,000 kg of ordinance the bombers carry - erupting into gigantic fireballs, often before the pilots could escape. Those who dived too late suffered the same fate, but made it all worse for everyone - giant steel whales falling on to those that timed it perfectly, taking out more than they could otherwise. Bombers fell as burning husks fell on them from above, snapping wings like twigs and breaking through the bodies like a Mack truck through a fence. Pilots ejecting now faced a horrible fate; lost over the seas of western Kahanistan - for all they knew, shark bate. Below, the burning carcasses of B22s slammed against the cruel sea, erupting in glorious fireballs of destruction that, had the Allaneans not shot, would have been the fate of the Heathen horde in Kahanistan. Parachutes counted few, and for those who did escape in time... their fate was sealed, left to the devices of the ocean.

All told, of group Yellow, 823 planes crashed to the sea. Group White faced the heaviest losses to the south, with 951 aircraft eliminated by the Allaneans. But not all was lost. A still fearsome, still sizeable chunk was screaming to targets in the Kahanistani interior... and to the North were Group Red and Group Blue, relatively untouched by the Allaneans and out of the range of the ships that fired shots.

There were still those who timed it right, who were lucky enough to not have a slow man on top of them. As they dived, a stream of missiles screamed above them, unable to maneuver and reengage. Saftey. All that was left was to survive Kahanistani anti-aircraft fire. Hopefully, that wouldn't be too hard. God willing.

--------------

To the north, Blue and Red began to appear over the horizon of Kahanistan. Group Red had a simple task; bomb North Freetown to oblivion. Group Blue was tasked with a more strategically vital goal - bombing Kahanistani lines to the North to submission, allowing the Doomani a better chance for a breakthrough. Out of range of the Allanean cruisers, the threat these bombers posed was far more significant.

As with Yellow, the first group launched their ARMs at any active Kahanistani emmiters, and climbed above the bombers. Now, the game was afoot.

The skies over the target swath began to darken. The radio chatter began - "Feet Dry...Float, Wide swath, Gate, High, stay spread...Activate Countermeasures...Spot targets and wait for action...ACTION."

Under the bellies of the beasts, the bay doors began to open. Inside they revealed their massive payload - some 840 250 kg GP bombs, all packing 110 kg of RDX. 1,500 bombers with the explosive payload. Behind them, the 1,000 bombers with the incendiary payload began to open, carrying essentially the same bomb with a napalm warhead, to burn whatever charred remains were left.

The bombers were closing, both threatening - and wide open. Over North Freetown, the bombs began to drop, as the planes of the first wave began to release their 210,000 kg of ordinance over what was, to the Pilots, heathen scum.

Over the lines to the north, the bombers began to spread out; 1,500 bombers carrying over 800 250kg bombs each, all packing 110 kg of RDX - behind them, another 1,000 bombers with enough gelled gasoline to power them back home, if it could be done.

Until then, enemy AA was silent. The spectre of 315 million kilograms of ordinance hung over North Freetown and the Northwest Line. The sky was darkened by the formation of bombers. Soon, there would be earthquakes like nothing imagined.


(OOC: Kstan, where are our fighters engaging? Like, on that map I posted? And do you have any significant AA in the cities?)

North Freetown

The western coastal city was one of two major embarkation points for refugees, the other being South Freetown. Air defences there were strong, but these were mainly entrenched SAM's, THEL, THAAD, etc., immobile defences, not intended for offensive operations like the more mobile defences on the Northford Line, the northern defence line south of the Northfordian border. Their purpose was to protect civilians until they could be evacuated.

The civilians would be further protected by coastal frigates and destroyers armed with anti-air missiles, firing on the enemy bombers. Fighter cover was reserved for the protection of the fleet itself, and would only engage the bombers if themselves attacked. Destroyers, frigates, and patrol boats made for pilots who had made it out of their planes, intent on capturing them.

Fleet Admiral Carl Jenkins, commander of the western fleet, was not a brutal man like al-Ghazi. He would treat the prisoners he could take humanely, holding them as prisoners of war in the brigs aboard his superdreadnaught RKS Imperator Marum, one of three Royal Sovereign-class super dreadnaughts in the Republic Navy, for interrogation (without torture) and use as bargaining chips. Those who landed on land and were captured could expect to have Chi-Rho's carved into their foreheads and be nailed to large wooden Stars of David or crescent moons in a grotesque mockery of Doomani crucifixion.

However, many bombers would still get through, though far fewer than at Metzuda, where fighter cover was available, though limited. The Kahanistanian Air Force responded with its own bombers, pulling ten Naram-Sin (http://www.forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=8604139&postcount=37) bombers loaded to the brim with AAM and air-to-ground missiles with radiological warheads and diverting them to southern Kahanistan at maximum altitude, with cover of 1,000 GLI-76's, intent on contaminating it with long-lived caesium-137, cobalt-60, and strontium-90 - the stuff that made Chernobyl so polluted it would be unsuitable for habitation for centuries - to make it uninhabitable to the Questarian Commonwealth (and cause radiation sickness among the Kriegos troops) without resorting to nuclear weapons. The Questarian Commonwealth would be paying in blood for a radioactive wasteland under al-Ghazi's scorched-earth policy.

There were also cluster bombs capable of exploding on NBC crews, showering them with explosives or sulfuric acid to penetrate their NBC suits. Along with UXO, this would make the occupiers' cleanup job even more interesting.

Northford Line

The air defence commanders were not expecting an air attack from the south. However, the air defence batteries as well as those to the south (the fallback points) had likely taken their toll, though inflicting thousands of casualties on the defenders.

Some air defence battery commanders experimented with antennae that could be withdrawn into the bunkers as protection from HARM strikes with mixed results. Of course, withdrawing the antenna blinded the radar, and HARM's are not known for their penetrative abilities, but the antennae usually withdrew too slowly to save them.

Millingston International Airport
Millingston, Carpanthium

The Aequatian command staff was greeted by a convoy of Humvees, driven out directly to the tarmac on that cool July morning, the sun just barely showing its crown of golden rays over the horizon. The control tower and its large radar mast was silhouetted against the red and orange of the dawn.

The second day had broken.

"Ladies and gentlemen.", came the gruff voice of a Cravanian lieutenant, his gray uniform glowing somewhat in the faint orange light. "I apologise dearly for the rush, however we need to get you all to a safe area. Millingston is still under the effects of an air raid warning, and another attack can happen at any time. If you'll please follow me to the convoy here we can get going to the central command bunker. After we get you acquainted with the local surroundings we may be able to make arrangements to make a seperate Aequatian command post, in fear of the central command area being hit. Right now, though, that's unlikely and we'd be quite safe."

The convoy of HMMWV's thundered out of the tarmac gates, directly into the country roads and backwoods outside of the Millingston suburbs. The trees cast eerie shadows over the road as the line of military vehicles roared down the dirt road. After about fifteen minutes of driving, the lead HMMWV broke off to a parking space in a small clearing, the others following suit. The Aequatians were led towards the treeline to a fair sized, unassuming stone cabin; the entrance to the nerve center of Cravanian military control in southwestern Haven. After riding a utility elevator down several hundred meters, The Aequatian command staff and Cravanian guides arrived in the large greeting area.

It was here that the Aequatian staff came face to face with their commanding officers, General Goodwin and Admiral Daly speaking with Cravanian General James Foxworth, the highest ranking commanding officer in the colony at the time of the initial assault. He and his staff had been waiting in the guest area with their Aequatian counterparts for the Aequatian intelligence and command staff to arrive, at which time the meeting between the two groups would commence. Foxworth smiled and nodded as the Cravanian guides disembarked from the elevator, giving space for the Aequatian personnel to file out.

"Welcome to Point Weatherson.", Foxworth said with a friendly grin. "Codename for the most advanced and secret Cravanian command facility in Haven. If you'll please follow me now we'll get down and dirty. We have a conference room prepared one level down from here, and since time is of the essence I suggest we not waste it.", Foxworth declared, placing both hands in the pockets of his Class A jacket. He nodded to Goodwin and Daly to walk alongside himself on the trek downstairs, with his staff and the Aequatian staff following suit. Foxworth flashed his ID card at the sentry standing at attention at the main entrance to the facility, receiving a crisp salute. The door opened, and the group was on its way.

********************

HIMCS Espada del Imperio
Crewfold Bay

As dawn broke, the Espada had almost made it to safety in port in Midlonian territory, her massive silhouette shining in the orange and red glow of dawn. The sky was filled with black smoke billowing from the central superstucture, however emergency crews had worked valiantly to extinguish the flames. There was simply too much for the skeleton crew left aboard to handle, though.

An eerie, almost peaceful silence beset the ship as she gracefully glided into the bay, the cackling of flames and spray of fire hoses being the only sounds truly audible from a medium distance.

Admiral Richards stood upon his crutch on the upper outside deck near the bridge, smiling as the sea breeze brushed across his face. The Cravanian Naval Ensign still flew upon the upper mast, tattered and torn but waving in the breeze as a sign of freedom's determination in the face of the imperialistic hordes that was Questers. He wiped the sweat from his brow, his messy white uniform covered with the sweat and blood of himself and his comrades. He had pulled through, though, and those that had survived the assault on the Espada were able to say so proudly.

The ship began its approach towards the docks of the nearby port, awaiting confirmation to be guided into a berth where it would probably sit for the remainder of the war. The crew of the Espada would be sent home heroes. They had endured enough horrors for one lifetime.

*************************

Downtown Millingston
Carpanthium

Captain William Tellson hadn't seen this much devastation in all his twenty years of service with the Millingston Fire Department, and he still could not wake himself from this nightmare. It just couldn't possibly be real.

Flames still danced around the Imperial Bank of Carpanthium building, the fires caused by the Northfordian bombardment still refusing to die out. Structural damage and fire damage was minimal in comparison to most highrise fires, however although it was not a danger to the building's structural integrity there were still people trapped on the upper floors above the blaze. Attempts to land Shadowcats on the roof to retireve them had thusfar failed, but it was continually attempted. Firefighters did not have the capability to get enough water and manpower to the upper floors to effectively fight the blaze. Shadowcats armed with water cannons had begun strafing the problem areas of the building, but the real problem lay within.

Tellson stood bathed in flashing red light, his black helmet with green reflective tape shining in the rising sun. He stood with his fire crew, who were the next group set to go up and search for survivors below the line of fire.

"We have a shitload of stairs to climb.", one of his firefighters remarked as he watched flames burst out of broken windows high above. "And I mean a shitload."

Tellson face contorted into a lopsided expression of disappointment.

"And there's also a shitload of people above that line of fire who need to get out of there."

*********************

1054 Poleson Ave.
Laurana, Cravan

Marissa Keyes stood at the sink in the kitchen of her modest suburban home on the outskirts of Laurana, scrubbing away at the dishes from the previous night's dinner. Her long auburn hair was tied back in a bun, her slender fingers concealed by the yellow rubber gloves which she wore as she washed away the remnants of the home cooked dinner she had prepared for her child.

Keyes was twenty-nine years of age, pretty by most men's standards. She had a petite figure, one nearly any man her age could admire. Her sharp features shifted from an expression of bliss, however, to one of worry when she heard a news report on the television behind her mention the Espada del Imperio. She was a sailor's wife, and her husband was an ensign on the Espada's bridge crew. She did an immediate about face with a dish in hand, her face now turning from an expression of worry to one of outright shock. The dish in her hands slipped between her fingertips, shattering on the floor into hundreds of pieces. On the television above was the image of the missile bombardment upon the Espada. Her heart sank as the image switched to the Espada pulling into port in Midlonian territory, seeing quite clearly that the bridge had not been spared from the bombardment.

"Daniel...", she whispered, falling to her knees. The pants she was wearing were easily cut through by the shards of glass scattered around on the tile floor, cutting into her legs. She did not notice, though, instead her brown eyes were fixed to the television screen. They swelled, tears flowing down her cheeks, black lines formed on her face as her makeup travelled with them. She glanced at the clock, and saw it was almost time for her to go and pick up her six year old son from school. On her days off from work she had always promised to give her son a ride, and now more than ever she could not let anything get between herself and her son. She quickly cleaned up, and began the short drive to the local elementary center where he would be waiting for her, those bright eyes and that wide smile all children seemed to have after a good day at school.

As she drove up to the corner, she contemplated exactly what to tell her son. She figured to wait until the man in a white uniform arrived at her door with medals and a flag, something she had always feared.

If the Espada made it to port, it was entirely likely that her fears would not blossom to reality.

***************************

HIMCS Espada del Imperio

Ensign Daniel Keyes wiped the blood from his forehead as the ship neared dock, holding pressure against the small gash as he leaned up against a blown out console. His white and black uniform was stained with the blood and sweat of his comrades whom he had given medical attention to, however he himself had been largely uninjured save for some surface cuts and bruises.

With his left hand he held the bloodied rag to his forehead, with his right a photo of his wife and child. It was his only objective at the moment to see the two of them again, and he had every intention of doing so. The Questarians would not rob him of those which he loved and cherished.

"She's pretty.", he heard a male voice say from behind. "How long you two been together?"
"Almost seven years.", Keyes replied, turning to see who it was he was speaking with. Admiral Richards stood behind him, smiling as best as he could considering the circumstances. His gray beard gave him a friendly grandfather-like appearance, despite the bloodstains and cracked glasses.
"I wouldn't be sure in saying this a short while ago, son, but I'm certain you'll see her again.", Richards remarked.
"Yeah...", Keyes replied. By this time formalities of rank had been thrown out the broken windows of the bridge, the two men now brothers more than anything. "That's all I want right now."

Richards rested his hand on the young man's shoulder assuringly. "I'll make sure of it personally.", he said.

Their conversation was cut short when the helm operator looked up from his position, turning his head to see the Admiral.

"Sir, we're in position awaiting Midlonian confirmation."
"Hail the harbor authorities. Tell them they better hope to have a big berth for us."
"Aye, sir."

Keyes surveyed the Midlonian coastline. To him, it was merely a waypoint on the journey to 1054 Poleson Avenue. To others, however, it was sanctuary. To the dead, it was peace.

Reclaim the will to fight...

... To fight for the ones you love...

Kahanistani Air Engagement

"The infidels are right on time. Kill them all," crackled a voice over the radio as infrared satellites detected the launch of the vast horde of enemy VTOL craft, relaying the data to the Atratus air superiority fighters.

OTH RADAR also relayed the movement of the Allanean aircraft towards ACID's operational area, giving the pilots early warning. ACID's plan seemed to be coming to fruitition: Operation Broken Crescent called for a decisive engagement with the Kahanistani Republican Air Force, and they were getting just that. Despite being outnumbered by over five to one, ACID wasn't worried in the slightest: after all, they had never fought a major engagement in which they weren't outnumbered. That, and the ACI-77 Atratus brought them capabilities that dwarfed those of the Aquila in terms of Doomani-style aerial warfare.

The biggest of all the threats was the Allanean Air Armada; however, the Allaneans, as usual, had proven their ineptness for aerial warfare. The fact that they would need to get within 20km of the line to deliver their payloads meant that they would have to pass directly through ACID's combat air patrol. They wouldn't be able to get anywhere near the line before they ran into a wall of missiles, and that wasn't even taking into account land-based triple-A and surface-to-air missiles.

One in every ten Atrati would activate their RADAR, acting as a sort of mini-AWACS to supplement the AWACS aircraft operating out of Northford in the detection of incoming enemy fighters, picking out the enemy formations as they approached. Seconds later, the fighters began unleashing their payloads: three-thousand AC.IX Sagitta medium range air-to-air missiles cleared their launch systems, rocketing towards their Allanean targets at speeds exceeding mach four from a distance of one hundred-twenty naughtical miles. Also included in the target list were the twenty Allanean bombers, as they did not go unnoticed either.

The missiles themselves utilized inertial referencing to close with their targets, feeding off of friendly RADARs to bring them close to the enemy fighters. With the Allanean aircraft lacking AWACS support and the relatively stealthy missiles themselves not using active tracking systems, they probably would not see the missiles until their RADAR went active in the terminal stage 30 km from their targets. By then they would have minimal time to enact countermeasures or maneuver as the missiles bore down on them utilizing their RADAR as well as infrared imaging and electro-optical sensors to make them almost impossible to spoof or shake off; even if the missiles missed on their first pass, their thrust vectoring systems ensured that they would stick with their targets, making passes at them until they either ran out of fuel or neutralized the enemy aircraft.

With those fighters pretty much out of ammo, they, along with the Sariels (which had taken a surprising amount of casualties from Kahanistani surface-to-air missiles: twenty of the bombers had been brought down by the IRST-based King Cobra missiles) retreated from the area, with the Aquilae pulling back from the line to form a hasty combat air patrol in front of the Imperial line, which, wary of the approach of a massive Lucinian air armada, slowed their advance to avoid being vaporized.

Any Allanean aircraft that somehow managed to survive the initial missile barrage would then have to deal with a wide array of air defenses. Some of the Atrati remained behind to assist in the air defense, remaining on station at detection platforms to further supplement the AWACS birds that were further back, as well as land-based IRST systems. Errupting from the ground, the legions' air defense units began sending their surface-to-air missiles skyward. The surface-launched version of Sagitta, the Pilum, was utilized as the standard medium range surface-to-air missile of the Imperial Army, with twelve of the missiles mounted to launch tubes on the back of a converted Testudo IFV.

For whatever enemy aircraft remained, three missiles were launched at each to ensure that they would be put down. These missiles utilized the same exact sensors as the air-launched version; however, because they were ground launched, they didn't have nearly the range of their air-launched counterparts, getting only about 70km range total. Any Allanean aircraft somehow managing to make it through THAT obstacle would have yet another still: the MACT.XXIII Bootscraper self-propelled anti-aircraft gun.

Mounting a pair of 105mm L/70 electro-thermal chemical cannons, the weapon actualy managed to pull of a 40RPM rate of fire. While the guns were capable of managing to hit targets at nearly 90km at maximum range, in this case the air defense commanders waited until the targets were within 60km to make sure they would have optimal accuracy.

The guns began chattering away, lobbing their rocket-assisted shells high into the atmosphere. The shells themselves were constantly receiving updates from friendly RADAR sights, and their fins allowed for them to maneuver in midair to ensure they stayed on target as they crested and began to descend at a rapid pace towards the approaching enemy fighters. As they made minor course adjustments to finalize their approach, the shells finally began going off just above the Allanean aircraft: 105mm AHEAD warheads, packed with thousands of flechettes capable of shredding the aircraft with ease. Granted, the shells would not be as accurate as missiles, but with somewhere in the area of eight-hundred systems firing simultaneously at a rate of forty rounds per minute each, this would not matter.

Finally, anything that managed to slip through that would be finally dealt with by the Aquilae that had been remained behind, who would dispatch whatever enemy fighter-bombers remained with cannons and short range AAMs.

Meanwhile, ACID’s other deployments had their hands full with the Kahanistani Air Force taking to the skies to fight the invaders. Infrared satellites pinpointed the groups of enemy fighters as they took off from their camouflaged bases; this prompted flight leaders to switch their RADAR on and pick up targets for their comrades, who would then proceed to loose their AAMs to shoot down the enemy fighters almost immediately after they took off, giving them virtually no time to react. Any Kahanistani efforts to track the fighters that had turned their RADARs on would bear no fruit; the NPI RADAR system utilized by the Atratus ensured that enemy passive receivers would not be able to track the source. By the end of the attack, ACID had expended over 10,000 Sagitta medium range air-to-air missiles on the enemy; as every fighter expended their payload, they immediately slipped back into Northford. They had made a superb effort to neutralize the Kahanistani Air Force; only time would tell how many of the Kahanistani aircraft had actually survived.

Finally, back at the line, the one hundred Aquilae remaining on station as SEAD aircraft immediately began letting loose with their anti-radiation missiles. They prioritized targets based on the power of the RADAR to ensure they would hit the enemy’s ‘real’ RADARs and not the decoys; however, with six hundred missiles going down range, they could probably snuff out all of the decoys along with the regular RADARs. The enemy’s CIWS would most likely prove to be utterly useless against the missiles, which were launched from distances of 80 nautical miles away: the approached at high altitude before plunging down towards the enemy targets. Their warheads split open, showering the RADAR positions with teardrop-shaped cluster munitions; had a Kahanistani CIWS round gotten lucky and hit the missile before it broke open, it would only have shattered and spewed the munitions all over the place, which would proceed to continue on towards their targets via their own internal inertial referencing systems.

[center]Assault on Kahanistani Line

Perhaps the smartest move by the Kahanistanis had been to target the counter-battery RADAR; well, at least it would have been if they were fighting anyone but the Doomani. In fact, the Kahanistanis had taken a page right out of the Doomani playbook by targeting the counter-battery RADAR, a tactic which had first been used in the First Vizion War (ironically by the same legion that later went on to be the occupation force in Najaster). So naturally, the Doomani had their bases covered; there were always backup systems.

In this case, it was in the form of a combination IRST/LIDAR system: IRST for tracking, LIDAR for ranging. This gave them virtually the same capability as counter-battery RADAR but without the cost of making themselves vulnerable to ARMs. However, with nothing to respond to the enemy MLRS systems with, they simply transmitted the targeting data to the incoming Lucinian bomber force, which would then be able to erase the artillery from existence. However, Imperial artillery would now not have to worry about anything now that the K’stani MLRS systems had expended their payloads; in fact, Imperial MLRS systems had a head start on reloading.

The Kahanistani efforts to use baking soda on the acid would most likely not have much of an effect: this was a counter-measure that would have worked fine on the first Pestis Dei version (despite the fact it would have required 2-3 boxes of baking soda per person, meaning that in the process of pouring the baking soda the person pouring it would undoubtedly be killed). Like the first Pestis Dei, PD2 utilized a binary acid/jet fuel mix. However, when fluorosulfiric acid reacts with jet fuel, it releases various kinds of extremely noxious fumes in addition to multiple kinds of acid: this would result in not only the gas mask filtration systems melting, but noxious fumes flooding in once they were melted. In addition, when reacting with water it would create extreme heat. K’stani soldiers wearing canteens or camelbak-style hydration systems would soon feel their water burning a hole through them. All in all, it made a horrible mess of things which would require extensive decontamination on the part of Imperial troops when they arrived for their own safety.

Meanwhile, the 16” siege guns continued to pour rounds into the enemy trenches and bunkers in order to raze the defenses in certain areas so Imperial troops could flood through effortlessly. With the Lucinian bomber force mixed in, the odds of anything being left alive to resist were extremely low.

Meanwhile, the Kahanistani low-level air defense grid was proving to be extremely lethal. Seventeen Corvus attack helicopters had been shot down when they had unwittingly stumbled into the air defense grid; the others had been more cautious, taking cover as soon as their laser warning receivers started going off and getting the hell out. The crews on the ground, should they find themselves surrounded by hordes of Kahanistani troops, would simply put a bullet in their own head to avoid capture; that, or they would lay in the cockpit feigning being wounded or unconscious and wait for the enemy troops to swarm over the crash sight. They would then trigger the warheads on the full load of ATGMs and FFARs the helo was carrying and incinerate everyone. If they found their way clear, they’d simply retreat northwards to eventually link up with the Imperial armored spearhead.

On that end, they were progressing quite nicely. MAD.V Imperator-II tanks raced across the land towards the line. They would halt some 30km away from the line until the last of the Lucinian bombers had released their payload before proceeding onward. Meanwhile, Imperial self-propelled artillery would halt some 60km from the line. They would hold their fire however; they would be kept in reserve. Air defense units attached to the ground forces actively sought out enemy UAVs, engaging them with 37mm and 105mm anti-aircraft artillery and surface-to-air missiles, relying primarily on IRST systems to pick them out to avoid gaining the attention of enemy MLRS systems.

Moving with the spearheading Centuria Loricae (armored centuries, formations of twelve MAD.V tanks with supporting mortar vehicles) were the Centuria Mechanicae, mechanized formations consisting primarily of Testudo-III infantry fighting vehicles packed with Imperial mechanized infantry, carrying weapons that were ideal for clearing out bunkers. For every mechanized infantry century, there were an additional two CMPLs, each packed with a total of four Minotaurus powered infantry armors armed with some seriously heavy firepower. This was just one of the many new weapons the Imperial Army was fielding; there were still far more lethal, far more terrifying weapons waiting to be unleashed on Kahanistani cities once this line was shattered and broken before the iron advance of the Legionaries.

Carpanthium Area of Operations (CARP-AO), Cravanian Overseas Territory, Southwest Haven

The top Aequatians on the ground were led to their discussions with the Cravanian higher ups as the next wave of aircraft landed on the tarmac at the Millingston airport, many of them the shorter-range, intratheatre C-130Q Hercules shuttling the personnel and light equipment of the 82nd Marine Expeditionary Brigade, C-181A Starlifter II aircraft hauled the heavier vehicles, including the tank company of M20A1A1 Mackall vehicles. Stepping off the side door of a C-130Q, Major-General Holtz removed his cap and rubbed his eyes, the lack of sleep had taken its toll on him physically as he placed the cap back on his head and watched as the small number of Kahanistani refugees which had been taken out with the last of ARMIK were loaded onto the leaving C-767A aircraft for their return to Aequatio via the Midlonian refueling point across the Strob.

The marines had enough time to simply refuel their vehicles and equip themselves with ammunition and fresh water for canteens before they were headed out of the city along the highway. Prior to leaving, however, the marines were issued with their field protective gear, in addition to protecting the personnel against the enemy agents in the air, but the equipment itself was also protected against the new generation of penetrative agents. A special coating of a strong base was applied to the exposed areas of the mask and seals of the suit and overboots to protect against acidic elements in the enemy agents while the canisters attached to the masks carried additional filters to defeat the same elements and allow the marines to continue operating within contaminated environments.

After being issued their new kit and ammunition they were given their final orders from Major-General Holtz, before he was to become part of the command and control sections for Operation Haven Sentry, that they would be taking part in the defence of the northern coastline of Carpanthium and prepare to defend against an amphibious assault by Commonwealth forces, mainly those of Northford, in an attempt to cut off the forces along the border. It would be Holtz's deputy, Brigadier Eric Klassen, who would take command of the unit as he and his G-3 officer began their plans for their new mission. The vehicles of the brigade rolled down the main highway, the heavy M939A5 5-ton trucks and 8x8 UNISUV-2 vehicles handling well on the roads while the tracked Mackall tanks were given rubber pads on their tracks to protect the road from damage before turning down onto side roads as they made their way to the defensive positions along the coast.

Upon their arrival, every Marine became busy with work as they disembarked from the vehicles. There were roughly a hundred kilometres of exposed coastline from the border with Northford and the city limits of Millingston, both secured by Cravanian and allied troops. The brigade was split between its elements, each infantry battalion forming into three separate and equal battalion combat teams and establishing an area of responsibility stretching thirty five kilometres. Lieutenant Rodriguez and his platoon were part of the 1st BCT and were the closest unit to the border with Northford, as soon as their company had reached their overwatch zone, they started to work. Donned in their protective suits in the same woodland pattern as their MCUs (Marine Combat Uniform) they set up the hexagonal general purpose tents for each section while larger, rectangle tents were set up for mess halls and command units. Along the perimeter, bulldozers from the Naval Construction Battalion worked alongside the engineer company to construct a massive berm six metres high with the earth, the compacted it to protect against explosive impacts and infantry officers sighted heavy weapons such as BGM-225 Goblin anti-tank missiles and MG2C1 12.7mm machineguns as the Marines dug in slit trenches and sighted their rifles, light machineguns and rockets. Forward observers and artillery liaison officers from the brigade artillery prepared target reference points for the 155mm field guns, 120mm and 90mm mortars while the companies sorted out their own 60mm mortar sections and prepared their own points.

Air defence units of Yellow Jacket missiles were given out to the separate BCTs to divided among their companies while the larger Apollo missiles had created watch zones for their passive focal-plane array seekers. The brigade's meagre aviation assets were established to provide assistance to all of the battalions at makeshift airfields constructed by the field engineers on the flat terrain. The AH-85A Sidewinder attack helicopters were to form a quick reaction reserve element, moving to a troubled area and supporting the ground forces with missile, rocket and cannon fire. The UH-96A Jaguar and CH-47Z Chinook helicopters would be used for CASEVAC duties and the former for fire support with machineguns and rockets. The massive MV-22A Osprey tiltrotors would act as reconnaissance scouts with their high speed and advanced sensors and countermeasures systems.

Of the aircraft coming out of the bunkers, one in ten had active radar on, knowing that almost nothing stayed hidden from the Doomani for long. Loaded down with the same King Cobra anti-air missiles, as soon as the flimsiest of locks appeared within what could be construed as within their range, they opened fire with the missile on their enemies. Yet, many fell within seconds of their departure, their pilots ejecting and returning to base.

Expecting the bunkers that had opened to become targets, the commanders ordered that they be emptied so as to avoid wasting planes. After all, Kahanistan only had 12,000 fighters, and many of them were patrolling against Candrian bombers.

The remaining twenty Naram-Sin bombers, loaded to the brim, flew at maximum altitude on what the pilots knew were likely suicide missions, hurtling straight for important cities and other areas in Northford at high atmosphere. Every missile in these planes that wasn't an AAM - and there were many of them - was either a bunker-buster (for blowing apart Doomani hangars) or an incendiary round (for maximising Northfordian civilian casualties.) The cities targeted were of medium size - unlikely to have THEL protection or significant AA, but large enough to have sizable populations. (Of course, the pilots had been told that the cities were Doomani bases.)

The CIWS were indeed capable of firing upwards at approaching missiles - but in this case it was counterproductive as it sprayed enemy munition all over their own defences.

---

Northford Line

A full 60,000 Kahanistanian soldiers - about a tenth of the defenders - had been killed or wounded by the gas, the bombs, and the artillery. Lt. General von Mannhard ordered the entrenched artillery, some 2,800 Sarzonian 155mm ETC equipped Z-38 Panthers, to open fire on the Doomani advance with thermobaric and chemical munitions of their own. In the Kahanistanians' case, the chemical munitions composed mainly of sulfuric or nitric acid shells with a healthy dose of Novichok nerve agent mixed in. The thermobaric ordnance aimed at incinerating the advance and preparing the souls of the Doomani for hellfire (assuming they had souls - racial propaganda held that they didn't), and those Panther guns could fire bursts of three rounds in ten seconds, or maintain intense fire of nine rounds a minute for four minutes.

More than 20,000 shells would be thrown into the Doomani forces, Lt. General von Mannhard thinking that he'd wiped out most of the enemy counter-battery radar. His own CBR was now active, and what few MRLS had survived, some six hundred, were now in the process of being reloaded, in many cases from the stocks of those MRLS that had been less fortunate.

In areas where the bunkers had been collapsed, however, troops were ordered to retreat southward to the Liberty Line, about 300 kilometres north of Metzuda. The commander of the Liberty Line, General Yochanan ben Ithamar, was notified of the breakthrough and readied his own forces, some one million in number and better armed than the Northford Line defenders, for a possible encirclement of the Doomani.

He was also notified to have his baking-soda countermeasure moved to barrels, as pouring it from boxes took too long.

Across Kahanistan, the bombers began reaching their targets. Massive lossess were expected; indeed, the Lucinians and Candrians went to the skies with at te very most air parity and with no previous strike missions Kahanistani air defenses were, to say the least, still quite strong - the reason for 500 bombers packing anti-radiation missiles spearheading the raids. Even dumping a quarter million ARMs per raid wasn't expected to cause much of an imprint, but the hope was that with such a massive force coming in from the West, that SAM sites would light them up - and with that in mind, the ARMs would sniff out their targets.

The Strike over the Line

190 km away to the west, the first wave of 500 bombers released their payload - 510 AC-280 anti-radiation missiles. Over a quarter of a million ARMs would be screaming towards Kahanistani SAM radar batteries; targeting decoys, actual arrays, giant radio towers, whatever. Destruction. Coupled with Doomani ARMs from the north, the hope was that this strike would allow the bombers a better chance.

The first group climbed and fell back; now it was up to the true bomber waves. The bombers were ready, 1,500 bombers with 840 bombs each. The calls had already been made, and the bombers began to release their deadly payload - 315,000 long tons of ordinance in one wave, spread throughout. SAM sites launched missiles up into the open bellies of the beasts; chaff spewing from the rears of the bombers and radar jammers trying to burn out the radar arrays that survived. The bombers used the two optical targeting sysems in the front as active countermeasures while the mirror arrays in the rear worked their damndest to keep the planes in the skies. But for all, nothing could save them. Missiles ripped into the open bomb bays, bursting the unreleased ordinance and snapping the planes into pieces in the skies. Dozens of bombers began tumbling down to the Kahanistani line. Then hundreds. Planes began to skid across the line, freed of the burden of flight. Those that could dumped all of their ordinance. One could identify where the worst of the takedowns were, for in their wake - craters. The losses were mounting. In the first 400 km of the line, 212 planes were lost - and there was still another 1,000 km to raze. The story could be said of pretty much all the raids, but in terms of strategic importance, this was really the only one that mattered. The targets were artillery and missile batteries, forward field hospitals, whatever could pose a threat to the Doomani advance. Behind, the 1,000 bombers hauling napalm bombs would raze whatever was left; being the second wave, they would fair better. Or so went the hope.

(OOC: Yeah, they're basically targeting anything that would hold back the Doomanis.)

OOC: How big are the munitions they are using? And what types?

The Kahanistanian fighters, more interested in stopping the Doomani air force that was actively trying to shoot them out of the sky, offered scant resistance to the Candrian bombers, who struggled to find anything to hit with their ARM's - there were far fewer than 255,000 radars in the line, and fewer yet were operating active radars. Kahanistan had never turned all their radars on at once since the Pwnage war.

However, while it is not their primary design, ARM's can and will inflict casualties on troop concentrations, tanks, artillery batteries, and IRST-based SAM's - like the ones shooting at the Candrians, the ones responsible for most of their casualties along the line. Of course, they also lost a lot of decoy field hospitals, knowing their cowardly enemies would love to blow up a helpless hospital. With that missile concentration, however, many real hospitals were hit as well. Thousands died, but those who could moved with the bombers, heading in their direction, the plan being that once the first wave had been destroyed, the second wave could be engaged.

Still, the Northford Line had by now sustained some 30% losses.

Official Message of the Allanean Government to the Doomani, Top Secret, Encoded

Please allow us to fly in 20 Ouroboros-D aircraft, with necessary escorts, for the evacuation of our assets in theater. Thank you for your attention.

Assault on the Northford Line

The Kahanistanis had made poor use of their artillery, just as they had in the previous war. Instead of devastating the advancing armored front with anti-armor munitions, they had opted to utilize thermobaric and chemical weaponry- weapons that would be horribly ineffective against tanks and personnel protected inside of their IFVs. Taking advantage of this horrific blunder, Silvanus ordered his self-propelled howitzers to open fire on the Kahanistani guns, which had unwittingly revealed their locations.

Silvanus' three-thousand or so 152mm guns had a distinct advantage over the Sarzonian-built Panthers: they were gast priciple-operated weapons, giving them a significant rate of fire boost. In this case it would be the deciding factor in the battle. The guns were able to get a total of six rounds into the air in ten seconds; however, unlike the Kahanistanis who were simply using it as a burst, the Doomani utilized an MRSI fire pattern.

This meant that the guns would fire at different angles for each shot; however, all rounds would be aimed at the same target despite this. The reason for the angling was to adjust the flight time of each round so that all six would impact simultaneously, giving the enemy literally no time to react or take cover. As a result, a mere thirty seconds or so after the first of the K'stani artillery rounds began falling amongst Imperial troops, some 18,000 GPS-guided, inertially-referenced artillery shells equipped with armor-busting submunitions would be impacting simultaneously amongst the Kahanistani artillery as well as what was left of the enemy MLRS systems to finally erase the enemy's fire support from existance.

Meanwhile, the Kahanistani artillery had caused only light casualties on the advancing armor. The gas had turned out to be utterly useless against the tanks due to the fact that the acid used by the Kahanistanis was simply not potent enough for the task it was being used for: burning through the filtration systems on armored vehicles. However, the deployment of acid-based weapons still prompted the automatic engagement of various countermeasures designed to marginalize the threat: calcium carbonate deployed from smoke grenades, designed to deconaminate the vehicles and neutralize the acid.

The thermobarics, however, did a bit more damage. When falling amongst lighter vehicles such as CMPLs, they were utterly devastating: the vehicles were crushed like tin cans admist the extreme overpressure, the inhabitants practically vaporized. However, against more heavily armored tanks and armored personnel carriers, they were relatively ineffective due to their sheer lack of anything resembling penetrative power.

With satellites showing the retreat of Kahanistani forces from the destroyed section of the battle line, Silvanus ordered his mechanized troops to take the gaps and commence the destruction of the enemy battle line. By emptying the gaps of their troops and putting up no resistance, the Kahanistani commander had in essence comprimised himself from the inside. Testudo-III infantry fighting vehicles packed with mechanized Legionaries would now be able to go right into the gaps (after they recieved mortar barrages to ensure that everything was dead) and disgourge their troops unchallenged.

Mechanized formations would assault the gaps and put infantry on the flanks of the manned bunkers next to the destroyed sections; once the infantry/mechanized assault was underway, tank formations would assault the bunkers from the front, putting 125mm HESH rounds right into the enemy bunkers while the infantry simultaneously cleared out the trenches with rifles, flamethrowers, and Spiculum recoilless rifles. The infantry would be supported by Testudos, which would drive along side the trenches as the infantry moved down from inside, sending 105mm shells down into enemy occupied sections as well as providing firesupport with their 37mm cannons, primarily using airbursting ammunition to easily engage dug-in enemy troops. Meanwhile, self-propelled 125mm gast mortars would drop air-bursting anti-personnel munitions right over the trenches; these particular mortar rounds were white phosphorous rounds, designed to burst downwards and simply burn everyone in the trench to death. The barrage would start near the Imperial assault and walk down the line, ensuring maximum enemy casualties before the infantry would enter, supported by the Testudos. Meanwhile, 203mm siege mortars aided the assault on the bunkers themselves by dropping their immense shells right into the roofs of the fortifications and collapsing them.

However, flank security was not overlooked. The gaps themselves would be secured and an outward perimeter established, which would be expanded steadily as the assault progressed down the enemy line, slowly steamrolling it from within and taking it section by section. Silvanus' goal was simple: kill every single Kahanistani in his sector of the Northford line. He knew he couldn't simply bypass and surge through the breaches in the line, as that would leave his rear exposed and leave him vulnerable for a possible encirclement of his forces. He was going to secure the entire northwestern segment of the Northford Line before he went any further. He certainly had the equipment and men to do so.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Air Battle

By now, most of the Atrati had made it back to base and the first of them were already taking off after being speedily refueled and rearmed, heading out for their next sorties against the Kahanistani Air Force. Their first forray into enemy territory was being hailed as a massive strategic success, with a good amount of enemy aircraft being blown out of the sky. ACID had indeed forced the enemy to the skies, and the K'stanis were now putting up the fight that they had wanted them to put up. The next sortie into enemy territory would likely gain total air superiority. However, ACID wanted to consolidate its forces before launching its next assault.

Meanwhile, the 20 enemy bombers were picked up on OTH and illuminated by AWACS aircraft as they crossed the Northfordian border. Angelus surface-to-air missiles were immediately sent skywards, six missiles per bomber. They would approach their targets at speeds exceeding mach eight, giving the enemy virtually no time to manuever out of the way. The misssiles were actualy capable of engaging enemy bomber-sized aircraft from ranges exceeding 500 miles, and hitting targets at altitudes exceeding 110,000 feet, and so the Naram-Sin bombers certainly weren't safe.

Naram-Sin bombers are not exactly the most maneuverable of craft. They also had not brought HARM's with them, trusting in their high-altitude capabilities and chaff to protect them while they firebombed Northfordian cities and blasted planes out of the sky with their huge missile complements.

Four were shot down before even being able to disgorge their chaff. The other sixteen released chaff, flares, and other countermeasures to enable them to last in Northfordian airspace, hoping to throw the missiles off track, slowing down so as to reduce their own heat signature to roughly that of the flares.

---

Even with the casualties the Northford Line had sustained, they still had some 380,000 of an original 600,000. The line was, however, much thinner in some areas as troops from unengaged sectors were moved to areas where the action was hottest. They also still outnumbered the Doomani at least two to one, probably three to one if their commanders' appraisal of the battle was correct.

The troops in the trenches and bunkers on either side of the gap had by now put on their oxygen tanks, replaced their gas mask filters (if they hadn't taken too strong a whiff of the acidic gases in use by both sides) and prepared to fight the Doomani infantry tooth and nail, with everything ranging from Hali-53's to bayonets to combat knives (more like short machetes or scimitars in this case.) The last man (or woman - Kahanistan was a more egalitarian society than Doomingsland) alive in a section usually pulled a grenade to kill as many Doomani as possible.

Over the gap, the Doomani armour would frequently run over anti-tank mines, ripping off treads, blowing up seats, and in general making a mess of whatever ran over them. The Kahanistanians were very liberal about using anti-tank mines in this area, as they didn't have to worry about their own troops in the area stepping on them, and armour from neighboring sectors would (theoretically) have had its path cleared for them by the obliging genocidal maniacs.

Behind the lines was a vast array of wooden Stars of David, crescent moons, and upside-down crosses, apparently for nailing enemy prisoners to. Most of the ones here were empty, but a few bore Doomani soldiers who had likely been already dead at the time of their crucifixion, having been shot, burned, stabbed, blown up, etc.

Drop Zone: Black, "Cherry Island," Southeast Haven

Kneeling in tall grass with his operations sergeant beside him, Captain Xavier Novoselic maintained watch on the plains as his assistant and communications specialist set up their team's directional beacon for the unit under their responsibility of guiding into the drop zone, 2 SCAR. They had arrived hours earlier and had scouted the current area for a suitable area to land almost nine hundred soldiers and their light vehicles of the battalion, while their Pathfinder counterparts did the same for the other three battalion combat teams that would be landing at the same time. The most important element landing alongside 2 SCAR would be Delta Company from the 17th Field Engineer Regiment, who would be an important cog in the opening phases of Operation Haven Express. Once the beacon was set and transmitting to the incoming aircraft, the Chief Warrant Officer and the Communications Sergeant peeled back to the Captain's position before all four left for their waiting and heavily-armed Stallion light truck to link up with the remainder of the team and await the landing of the SCAR troopers, or "Paras" as they had been named by most of the Army's personnel for being the last unit in the Army for performing parachute assaults, most other airborne units being relegated to air assault or mere light infantry.

At a much higher altitude a few minutes out from the drop zone, the sound of the aircraft's massive engines had been droning for countless hours since the mobilization of the 1st Joint Special Task Force from a training exercise to their air deployment to southeast Haven in the opening hours of the war's first day, when the government decided on operations in the Haven region. Had it not been for the Air Force loadmasters' collective effort to scrounge earplugs for all of the soldiers of the Army's 1st Air Assault Brigade, the journey itself might have been more punishing than the combat they might see upon their landing.

Lieutenant-Colonel Nicholas "Falcon" Jones, commanding officer of the Special Combat Applications Regiment's Second Battalion, paced about the cargo compartment littered with rucksacks, parachutes and sleeping or busy paratroopers of the headquarters company as he went over the objectives for the coming Operation: Haven Express. His operations officer, the young Major Tina Schwarz, had spent most of the flight sitting on her own reviewing personal notes and producing fresh ones as Regimental Sergeant-Major Jason Rottman never seemed to sleep as he helped the younger, inexperienced soldiers with their kit or parachute rigging. There had been a vast influx of new equipment for the entire brigade in the past months, including the new Army Multipurpose Combat Uniform (MCU) (http://i191.photobucket.com/albums/z317/Aequatio/MCU.jpg) for not only their utilities, but webbing, helmet and ruck covers. New helmets and body armour were issued as well, using a formed carbon-boron composite encased in triple-hardened steel plates and synthetic fibre layers on both sides, they were highly rated for their protection and would be most useful for the soldiers wearing them on battle. In addition to their combat uniforms, they had also been issued with the specialized Radiological, Nuclear, Biological and Chemical Field Protective Mask and Oversuit. Lined with elements to defeat chemical agents, the suits were also protected themselves from newer agents known to defeat older suits with protective layerings offering defence against acids and more aggressive agents. The soldiers carried their personal weapons on them and would be jumping with them, heavier weapons such as mortars, 12.7mm machineguns and BGM-225 Goblin anti-tank missiles and their M117A1 launchers were loaded in weapons containers and would be pushed out the rear compartment of the C-181A Starlifter II aircraft alongside the battalion's M1295 Stallion lightweight tactical vehicles.

The pilots of the lead airlifters had been vectored in as their navigators lined up their aircraft in accordance with the location beacons laid by the Pathfinder sections on the ground. Interior lamps changed over to the preparatory red hue and flooded the cabin as the soldiers hopped to their feet and grabbed their immediate "jump kit" of personal weapons, ammunition, hand grenades and water and lined the two sides of the compartment for the shotgun jump with the troopers exiting through the opposite side doors of the C-181A. As always, Colonel Jones was the first at the door, RSM Rottman acting as the lead jumpmaster with the Air Force sergeant loadmaster acting as jumpmaster for the other door, as the lamps switched over to green and in a rush, the soldiers were out of the doors and under their canopies almost three hundred metres above the earth as they began to drift down in a massive formation streaming from the eight aircraft assigned to the battalion and its equipment. The Stallion light vehicles were pushed out ahead of the infantry, allowing the trucks to land first from their half dozen parachutes allowing them to be slowed enough so that their hardy frame would take the least amount of punishment upon landing.

Jones tucked his body in as he landed in a roll, a model landing by instructor's standards, as he was the first of nearly thirty six hundred troops to land on D-Day of Haven Express. After collecting up his olive drab parachute and stashing it away in a patch of tall grass, he undid the canvas weapons container tied to his leg and loaded a magazine into his G102A1 Commando carbine before setting out to link up with the rest of his company and establish his battalion's command post and initiate their role in the operation. Loud concussions were heard as the aluminum weapons containers and the landing plates for the Stallion jeeps came to rest on the ground and the troopers flocked to them in order to collect their heavy weapons or untie the light trucks. The first task, however, had yet to be completed once the colonel had assembled his headquarters as he ordered one of the infantry sections to raise the Aequatian flag on their nation's new territory. It would take ten minutes of reinforcing the flagpole to the ground with steel cable before one of the troopers ran the 2x1 metre red, white and black flag of the Republic up the pole as the wind caught hold of it and it unfurled. The Paras were not finished yet as they worked hurriedly to establish their battalion's perimeter with foxholes and sighting heavy weapons alongside the other three which had landed, the blind zones in between the units were covered with small unmanned aerial vehicles, monitoring the ground with their electronic eyes. Jones stood next to Rottman as they watched the operation progressing well, although it was not perfect as the battalion had suffered almost a dozen jump injuries in the assault, mainly twisted ankles and the troopers returned to their units and duties, although those with more serious injuries were transported and stabilized at the brigade medical detachment's aid station until they could be evacuated by aircraft.

As the soldiers settled into their positions as dusk began to fall, they had donned their protective suits and kept their masks ready in their waist haversacks for the alarm for a gas attack. The engineers had begun their work and continued on into the dusk night with the help of flares as they worked to level the earth and compacted it with a few borrowed vehicles hauling empty weapons containers weighed down with rocks. It was then that Captain Novoselic arrived with his team and three Stallion light vehicles at the battalion command post established by Colonel Jones, the pathfinder greeted the guard standing outside, his face covered with green and brown camouflage paint as he entered the large, rectangle-shaped tent and greeted the senior officer, "Captain Xavier Novoselic, Bravo Team, Pathfinders."

The colonel greeted him back, forgoing the usual salute due to field regulations introduced after suggestions made by the Russkyan army, "Lieutenant-Colonel Nick Jones, 2 SCAR. Captain, I have called you here to have your team run a security patrol outside of the battalion's preimeter, act as early warning and plant rudimentary obstacles and mines until the engineers are completed with the airstrip. The latter has already been pushed back thanks to the uncooperative nature of the Skyians at Arcis Insula."

"Yes sir, we'll maintain security and check in each hour until sun-up at this point," Said the special forces officer as he pointed to a position on a map, "We'll flash an I.R. strobe in a sequence for your people to see through their thermal viewers."

"Excellent, get some 24-IMPs from the quartermaster and have your team out there ASAP," Ordered Jones as he returned to his work, "Dismissed."

"Yes, Sir," Replied the captain as he exited the tent and worked up his team for their mission of sitting in the dark for the night. He walked past the heavy weapons which had been air-dropped into position in the last daylight hour drop, which included the Yellow Jacket and Apollo air defence missiles, which would prove to be effective should enemy aircraft challenge their position at any point of the operation, "All right, we're stepping out for tonight, folks," He greeted his team as they were collecting the sealed 24-hour Individual Meal Packages and refilling canteens, "We're on watch tonight as the rest of the Paras get setup for tomorrow. So be ready in five to move," He said as he started his own preparations for the night duty.

----------

Official Release from the Office of the President of the Aequatian Republic

http://img249.imageshack.us/img249/7627/aequatiocoalr0.png

To all it may concern,

Earlier today, elements of the Aequatian Republic Land Forces First Air Assault Brigade landed in the uninhabited territory in Southeast Haven codenamed "Cherry Island" in operation parlance and have raised the Republic's flag as we now hold claim to up to sixty four thousand eight hundred (64,800) kilometres square of territory on the island with the full intention of supporting allied operation within the area of operations in Southeast Haven.

Signed,

President Holden Reid of the Aequatian Republic.

OOC: "Cherry Island" refers to the island with the mainly unclaimed territory in the Southeast, attached to a few colonies from North, Illior and TSS.

Clandonian Embassy, London, Questers

Having survived most of the bombing the embassy was busy with Clandonian nationals registering as instructed by the Foreign and Commonwealth Office. The embassy grounds showing the wear and tear of the war, the beautiful gardens shattered after a bomb hit the compound, windows on the summer house and green houses were smashed and the summer fruits ruined. One pristine lawns muddied and the swimming pool cracked and drained of water. The Royal Marine guards were filing sand bags to prop up against the windows to try and protect them from further bomb blasts that were expected. A diplomat in a army officer in number two dress moved his way through the crowd of civilians who had filled the lobby, seen to by the dozens of civil servants registering them and arranging transport back home. The officer saluted the Royal Marine guards who smirked when he was out of sight, climbing the stairs up to the private officers of the Ambassador and his official residence.

“Ah good morning Peter.” Said the ambassador looking up from the copy of today’s Times that had just arrived at the embassy

“Morning Sir, latest reports aren’t good I’m afraid.” Replied the officer, handing over the dossier from his suitcase. The ambassador Sir William Trentbridge looked at the folder marked ‘classified’, pictures and maps of the current situation and the estimated casualty figures.

“Less than one thousand kilometres? Bloody hell.”

“Sir we and four hundred thousand Clandonian’s that are here in London are now well within range of battlefield missiles and other weaponry. The situation as it stands mean likely London will be defended fiercely by the Questerians, leading to the deaths of millions in a siege situation. The Scandavian’s haven’t even reached the front lines yet, I believe that we need to begin mandatory evacuations of all non-essential personal and of civilians if NATO forces reach within six hundred kilometres of the city.”

“I will inform Warminster of this plan, there are still nearly a million Clandonian’s in Questers spread out, if we have to leave here we must go to the South and set up in one of the smaller commissions. It’s already getting dangerous here, Clandonians were injured in the last attack, I didn’t realise it would be so fast.”

“Indeed sir, I’ve already drawn back my team from the front line, observation reports will be only provided by satellite and UAV’s now, its to risky to have neutral Clandonian troops alongside the Questerians even if they are just observers.”


Warminster, Clandonia

"Reports today from Allanean sources appear to show that the Questerian capital of London is now less than one thousand kilometres of NATO forces. We go live to our correspodant Patrick O’Brien in London.”

“Thank you, the situation here in London has changed little, people are still going about their ordinary lives but the recent bombing raids have left their mark on the historic city. I spoke to the Clandonian ambassador today and he confirms that Clandonians were injured in the Allanean bombing attack, they have now been flown back home but it does raise questions about the safety of foreign nationals here.”

“Patrick, the government has said non-urgent travel to Questers should be avoided and we understand the government has been meeting with Royal Air Force and commercial airlines to discuss evacuation should the capital fall. How is the mood amongst Clandonians there who have business assets and family?”

“The mood is strong with most thinking that they will be able to return but there is confusion on what they are supposed to do. Speaking to people here at the embassy they are unsure if they should pack up and leave now or wait till the official evacuation.”

“Thank you Patrick, we will have more on the story later. In other news Questerian forces in Gholgoth launched their attack...”

On the streets a march in support of Questers was marching through Whitehall, banners demanding the government bring the country into the war. Pro-Questerian feelings were in the hearts of many Clandonians but so were the fears of invasion and such huge losses of life. Banners and posters paraded through the city of burning London and the famous picture of the King helping in the rescue effort. The Allaneans were distrusted greatly now along with a feeling of discontent for NATO for not condemning the brutal attack which had targeted nothing but innocents. The people waited and sat around watching the news, hoping that there would be a victory in the Haven and in Questers itself before the fleets of NATO from outside of Haven arrived and intervened which could tip the balance of the war completely.

HMS King George
Strobovia Strait

"Quiet, Captain. Peaceful almost," Osborne mused, letting the cool, humid breeze blow up and over the ship's open bridge. Standing beside the admiral was the captain of Osborne's flagship, the two taking a momentary break from Operations and enjoying the sea and all she provided to humankind. Neither man failed to see, however, the various carriers, dreadnoughts, and cruisers surrounding the flagship that represented to the Strait the first real reserve NATO force.

"Cravanians got hit hard, Admiral," the captain added after several minutes of a silence punctuated by the crashing of the waves along the bow of the ship hundreds of metres forward of their position. The officer's observation was warranted and Osborne recognised it as such. They had fought with great distinction, effectively serving as the tripwire that had now, with great loss of life, been tripped. The men and women under Osborne's command now, as a unit, a single body of ratings and officers, sailed westward as the shores of Carpanthium fell under the ever-longer shadows of Northford and the Commonwealth.

"Indeed, Captain," Osborne finally replied. "I take it precautions have been taken?"

The captain nodded solemnly. Both men were aware of the enormous expenditure of missiles directed solely against the Cravanian flagship. Both men were well aware that theirs would likely be next and had begun to prepare for a quick and efficient transferral of command functions to several alternate flagships. Most of the flag staff remained with Osborne aboard the King George, however, to seven dreadnoughts within the fleet, Osborne had dispatched liaison officers to expedite the process he saw as inevitable.

A dull roar broke the thoughtful silence of both men, each looking off to port as a flight of fighters raced off into the skies above the fleet, doubtlessly en route to replace a tired component of the air patrol whose outer layer, if Osborne recalled, was out some thousand or so kilometres from his carriers and dreadnoughts. They too had plans for the coming clash, pilots briefed and prepared to make for emergency air fields along the Strait's eastern coastline should their carriers or backup carriers be rendered flight-op incapable.

From behind the men, a hatch opened and one of the ship's lieutenants appeared, his face bright with novice enthusiasm but heavily weighed down by the small slip of paper in his hands. "Captain, Admiral," he began, crisply handing over the note to Osborne, who nodded to dismiss the young officer.

"Well, Captain," Osborne finally said aloud, folding the paper neatly in half, tucking it into his jacket pocket. "The time has come."

"After you, sir," the captain offered, holding the hatch open for the Oceanian fleet admiral. The two entered the enclosed bridge and headed for the lift abaft the compartment, in which they would descend several decks until well inside the ship, back in Operations.

Above the Oceanian fleet, to both east and west, NATO long-range bombers and strike aircraft were moving, headed westwards while on tarmacs and runways in Carpanthium, RAF interdictors and fighters rolled out of their hardened shelters with missiles slung underneath and fuel trucks rolling up alongside. Within the fleet flagship, Osborne looked upon a silent crew. "Ladies, gentlemen, the word is 'Nightfall.'"

Antennae throughout the fleet buzzed while signal flags were flown from the yardarms, flapping confidently in the breeze brought upon them by the fleet's stiff steaming on a westerly course. Once more, the fleet's carriers began to alter their course, taking them into the wind and allowing Sea Stratus and Kaha'i aircraft to take to the skies. Several hundred kilometres ahead of the capital ships, escorting cruisers, dreadnoughts, and light carriers lofted their drones. They began a journey westward towards the approaching Questarian fleet ahead of the fighters and interdictors.

Within the flagship, Osborne looked at the plot table as Oceanian and NATO assets began to look alive. It would take some time until the drones were in position; but, as they neared their locations the fleet's leading escorts ran quick diagnostics on their weapon systems. When the drones reported ready, cell hatches flew open on the leading escort cruisers and dreadnoughts while smoke and flame billowed out, followed almost immediately by missiles.

Nearly 1,500 cruise missiles lifted into the skies, then tipped over and began their own high-subsonic flight towards the Questarian anti-air escorts, with the Mogamis occupying the highest notches on the missiles' pecking order. It was not a massive contingent, for Osborne knew that he would need the bulk of his missile batteries in the hours to come, but it was the leading edge of the first serious NATO naval operation not undertaken by individual commands.

The drones then began their own approach ahead of the Ranseurs, each with a warhead at 570 kilograms and guided inertially towards their targets. As the drones would near the Questarian fleets, they would begin what was anticipated to be their final flights. Each would active their ECM pods, some equipped with signal-enhancers to appear to be large strike aircraft while others simply directed their power at jamming specific frequencies, the jammer drones all attacking different frequencies, enabling a broad spectrum effort.

Behind the drones and the Ranseurs were the Fleet Air Arm Kaha'i interdictors and Sea Stratus fighters. These aircraft, however, carried not simpler anti-ship cruise missiles, but rather marine anti-radiation missiles. Data provided by the Cravanians indicated that the bulk of the Questarian air-defence systems would not become fully active until pressed by a massed assault. While the Ranseurs would provide part of the NATO missile effort, the Fleet Air Arm would provide a near-simultaneous second wave. The missiles would fly behind the main body of NATO missiles waiting until the air defence escorts lighted up their active systems, then systematically target the long-range search radars and then the short-to-medium range radars for fire control and semi-active missile guidance.

Osborne watched all of it through symbols and icons upon his display. Coordinated to occur in simultaneity with other NATO forces, Osborne hoped that the large multi-vector strike would do some damage. The number of symbols before him were ominous. Over five thousand enemy ships against his near three thousand; his only hope was that Operation Lampyridae could inflict enough damage to the Questarian air defence system to give the men and women under his command a fighting chance in the coming days.

Command and Control Center
Point Weatherson

"Targets four through sixteen positively identified and outlined, first wave is away."
"Excellent, what of the Oceanian bombardment?"
"Fifteen-hundred missiles tossed in the first, wave, won't do much good with the Questarian systems running quiet. They should light up pretty quickly soon, though.", the technician said with a slight smile.

It was only a few hours into a fresh shift of staff at the C3, the technicians refreshed from a good seven hours of sleep between their shifts. The room was bathed in red light, symbolizing the fact that Operation Lampyridae had officially begun.

"First wave is en route, ETA four minutes."

The colonel on watch while his commanding officer met with Aequatian commanders clasped his hands behind his back, watching the massive projection of a map of southwestern Haven play out, colorful symbols dancing about on the dark blue image.

"Initiate phase two."

********************

Southwestern Haven Imperial Air Command
Point Weatherson

Air Force colonel Timothy Doyle watched the main projection at the front of the relatively small control room, on it the live video feed from an ISF-24 Daelkyr unmanned combat air vehicle (http://z7.invisionfree.com/Illiorian_Arms/index.php?showtopic=42). It was known that Questarian RADAR arrays on their Mogamis would not be active during the first assault, and thus a decoy was required.

The twenty-four Daelkyrs that had been shipped to Carpanthium for testing but only thrown into storage were perfect for the job.

The initial wave of sixteen Daelkyrs was launched out of Millingston International, with the intent of drawing the Questarian air defenses out into the open where they could be more effectively dealt with from a distance and crippled severely. The Daelkyr was a plane similar to the Archons and Opinicuses currently in service, the latter two being based upon the early testbed that was the Daelkyr. The Daelkyr was a somewhat larger fighter, however possessed a very similar radar cross signature to the Archon and Opinicus because of its shape and overall design with stealth in mind.

And thus, the decoys were set out. The sixteen of the initial wave were sure to fly low and fast, to keep a low profile and spring themselves upon the Questarian fleet with little warning. They were programmed with fairly basic combat maneuvers, whereas if more convincing were required remote control could be activated to perform more advanced acrobatic maneuvers. The Questarians, thinking it would be the precursor to a full scale raid thanks to the similarities between the Daelkyr and current Cravanian aircraft, were expected to switch their anti-air/missile defenses to active to combat the decoys and whatever aircraft may come soon afterwards. It was then that the combined force of NATO would strike them down.

The trap was set. The bait was ready. Now all that was left to happen was for the Tiger to spring it.

Curiosity killed the cat.

************************

Conference Room
Point Weatherson

(Co-written with Aequatio)


"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen", Foxworth announced as he led the group into the conference room. "Please, take a seat.", he said while motioning to the long table in the room. "There is much to discuss."

General Goodwin sat in his chosen seat after which he was immeidately surrounded by his aides as Admiral Daly was seated opposite his commander, the Air Force officer first, "Thank you, sir, the Republic has initiated the Carpanthium element of Operation Haven Sentry much to the debacle that was ARMIK, we are hoping to support the mission in southwest Haven from this point and hopefully deter Northfordian aggression. What are the most important aspects to discuss first?"

"The issues currently at hand would mostly include Northfordian and Azahan movements in the south.", Foxworth said. He had remained standing, and approached a touchscreen display mounted on the wall perpendicular to the long table. With a few brief swipes, a map of the area with key locations was outlined on the display. "As you can see, there are numerous gun emplacements and the like capable of wreaking quite a bit of damage in the south, however we're unsure exactly of their target coordinates. We've lost intelligence assets on the ground for the most part, so all we know is that they are there. In addition, as I speak there is a large column of fighter and support craft moving from north to south parallel to the border on the Northfordian side, we've been tracking them since they attempted to break through in the North. Oceanians chased 'em back, though.", he explained.

"The allied air assets, are they capable of pushing across the border and into Northford for I.S.R. (Intelligence, Surveillance and Reconnaissance) missions, or is the Fordian air detection and defence grid too tight?" Asked General Goodwin as he took notes from the display in a small paper pad, "If it's possible, I would like it if we could determine the level of surveillance the Commonwealth is placing on this crack of land."

"It should be very possible, Illiorians have been slipping in and out with Sariels and our flyboys have been maintaining a low profile in their Archons and Opinicuses, some fancy new stealth fighters from Illior. I would assume, however, that they wouldn't be able to stay for too long or wander too close to some of the more heavily defended areas, but from a distance they should get a good idea of where the Northies are hiding some things.", Foxworth replied, panning the map and zooming it in towards the border area. "Marked along here are known Northfordian positions, as picked up by UAV and satellite sweeps of the border region. There's lots of activity on that main road, as it appears to have been closed to all but military traffic. However what we have marked here is probably not nearly half what the Northfordians have. Further recon would definitely help."

"The extent to which the drones and satellites have picked up things is god, but we need a better picture of what the Fordies have," Said Goodwin as he turned to Major-General Holtz, the former commander of ARMIK, "What are your thoughts, Robert?"

The marine officer looked at the map as he sat forward, "If the army is going to get their spec ops guys on the ground here, we can definately get some serious HUMINT gathering done, helo-insertion, perform their recce and bug out on helos again, we can get a much better pitcure of what they have on the ground. We'll definately want to strike at their main transportaion hubs and ammunition and fuel dumps, it will certainly hurt them the most if they're planning a move over that border."

"Agreed.", Foxworth said to the Aequatian Marine officer. "We have plans to initiate a bombing campaign of our own via Sariels, however at the moment our Sariels are preoccupied with holding off the Questarians at the mouth of the straight. With Scandavian support there we should be able to free our flyboys up. In any case, I'll send orders to the local Imperial Guard garrison to suit up and speak with your own snake eaters about going in deep for recon."

"Then I it would be wise to start establishing an Air Tasking Order once we have up to date intelligence on the enemy positions, we divide up the Northfordian lines into zones and allocate targets, making sure to eliminate most of the garrisoned forces there. Although that would be phase two, as phase one would be the neutralization of the Fordian air defence grid using Wild Weasels and if there are any available, low-level attack helicopters," Said Goodwin as he looked over his notes, "It would be especially nice if we could open a corridor up as well to the interior of Northford and strike deep at C2 hubs in phase two."

"Indeed it would. Janice, be sure to get this all down.", he said to one of the Cravanian aides at the table. "I want to run this by Oceanian and Midlonian commanders later for their own opinions." Foxworth zoomed the view on the display back out to a strategic level, looking over the group gathered at the table. "Now, as for defenses we haven't much. Some roadblocks here or there, barbed wire, blocked moutain passes, all that jazz. We have channels made that we want them to come through, then pound them down with artillery. But in the long run I fear this may not be enough and we'd need a much more dug in and reinforced defense in both northern and southern areas. Oceanians have the south covered pretty well, but I could always use some help up north. What do y'all have in the way of logistics and engineering here in Haven?"

One of the aides produced a paper with what appeared to be a list and handed it to General Goodwin, "The Army has an airborne engineering brigade in San Nereiana, but that won't be enough for this situation, but the 41st Mechanized Infantry Division has a heavy engineering brigade that would be suitable for constructing elaborate defences and obstacles with this terrain, the division arrives tomorrow aboard ships at the port of Nemiroffsk. However, the brigade is already on the ground now with their equipment, I can have them brought here and on the ground in twenty four hours after the request is authorized by CENTCOM."

"Good, good.", Foxworth said. "Hopefully that will be in time to prevent a Northfordian invasion. Else your engineering boys will be busy digging graves, probably.", he remarked grimly. "Twenty million Azahans sit across that border, waiting for the order to rush across in waves. I'm sure we'll see combat mostly with the more professional Northfordian army, but the possibility of massed attacks still exists. With the proper defenses and channeling them into the right areas, their advantage of numerical superiority only allows them to force us to waste ammunition."

The marine general smiled, "It would be no different than what we faced in Red Tide years ago. We know how to fight well with our backs against the wall, and with increased defences, this will be a breeze," He said.

"With those numbers, can we expect to be facing mostly conscripted forces out of Azaha?" Asked Holtz, "If the good General Goodwin would allow, I'd like to speak with the CENTCOM Support Command about the new anti-personnel munitions, especially for the Scorpios I know your Cravan boys have on the ground."

"If my intelligence reports correctly, they are indeed conscripts. Sort of makes our lives easier.", Foxworth replied with a lopsided grimace of half disappointment at the situation and half amusement. "But yes, with the proper equipment and fortifications this can be easily won. I doubt an effective counter attack could be made for some time, but as long as the line holds long enough to deny the Strob and keep southwestern Haven at least contested territory, our job is done."

"We can certainly hold the line," Started Holtz as he removed his dirty field cap, "It would certainly help if we could bring in reinforcements and hold them in reserve, slowly pull battleworn units off the line and bring forward fresh personnel."

"How are your nation's naval assets, from the last reports I remember seeing, they had been evading Commonwealth ships," Asked Daly, "Can we expect any support from the sea for land operations?"

The General paused, looking down for a moment while collecting his thoughts.

"I'm afraid your reports are fairly incorrect. Cravanian naval assets were at the front of the Strobovian line when the assault began, with about sixty combat vessels at the forefront and approximately fifty further towards the rear. Our forward assets are all but eliminated, and our rear assets have taken heavy losses. At the moment we have four carriers with escorts on the run performing cover from the rear and battered and beaten ships at the forefront. Our capital assets have remained relatively untouched save for the Empire's Hood class dreadnought which just pulled into Midlonian port, listing severely and billowing smoke out of every hole on the damned surface. At the rate the naval battle is going I cannot guarantee naval support soon, but NATO plans will hopefully change this in our favor."

"My apologies for my ignorance," Daly said quietly before composing himself, "If CENTCOM is made fully aware of this, I'm sure they would be willing to send battle groups from the Republic."

"Can we expect Commonwealth naval assets to take part in any assault?" Asked General Goodwin.

"Northfordian naval assets are driving up the coast and engaging Midlonian and Oceanian targets as we speak, however as far as I can recall they are the only other Commonwealth members who have significant naval strength to challenge us. The rest of the force being thrown at us is Questarian, and that force is being thrown quite effectively.", he said. "Bastards came out of nowhere, despite us having somewhat expected the assault at some point.", he said. Foxworth paused for a moment, then continued. "If Aequatian CENTCOM would be willing to commit naval forces I'm sure they'd be appreciated, but that depends on whether or not further NATO action is successful. Strike plans are in the works to deliver a death blow to the Questarian fleet, however I'm not at the liberty to discuss that here at the moment since it's not my area of command. If it does not work and we are overrun there would be no use. If it does work, support would still be appreciated if they attempt to push the issue."

"It will take some time for the assets to arrived from home, so we can still call on CENTCOM to ready them and set sail, they can still be used in Haven at any point," Explained Daly, "What kind of vessels are making the runs up the coast, perhaps we have assets on the ground to challenge them?"

"They're running up the coast of Northford and into the Strob I should have mentioned.", Foxworth said. "However as far as I can remember I believe it is a fairly large fleet, with capitals mixed in with many, many escorts. Something which would best be dealt with by NATO naval forces I would assume. I do, however, have three-hundred Khans sitting in silos on that mountainside. Just waiting for Questarian anti-missile defenses to be weak enough that the Khans would be near unstoppable. Otherwise, bombardments of land-based Shepherds and Pikes have been ongoing for a while."

"Right, then we can focus on land operations then," Said Daly as he looked over at Goodwin and Holtz.

"If it's possible, I'd like to coordinate all of the allied air power in-theatre with my air commander, we can formulate a comprehenzive bombing strategy in Northford. The Air Plans Directorate in Aequatio long ago developed an OPLAN for an offensive air campaign that can be short and decisive in effect, and with some modification, can be applied for the current needs," Explained Goodwin, "In order to make the conceptual OPLAN BLue Sky into an actual application of air power will require a planning unit to match assets to targets, I'll call for the Air Plans Directorate to send officers here so they can have better access to the intelligence as it comes in to our headquarters."

"I would have no problem with that, I will speak to our resident air whores about such a thing.", Foxworth said. "I'm sure they won't have a problem either. For the moment the situation in the air is looking up. Most Northfordian units use outdated Space Union aircraft, some use Wraiths which are potent but still not exactly cutting edge. Wraiths are also incredibly costly planes to replace and are inefficient to use in large numbers, so the more we can down the more we hurt the Northfordian economy. The better for us in the long run."

"The A.P.D. will present their OPLAN Blue Sky to your people and hopefully we can have a working strategy that can be ready the next day," Said Goodwin, "Striking at the enemy is of the utmost importance to discourage any action on their part and allow us to dictate the initiative of the coming battle."

"Excellent. Sounds like a plan.", Foxworth said. He approached the table, clasping his hands behind his back. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, I believe we have some good plans formulated which will be ironed out gradually with other NATO commanders and branches. Anything else to add to this little meeting before we get to work doing just that?"

"Nothing that comes to mind, our first order of business will be to ensure that the proper assets are moved here and that we can begin our operations to build up the fortifications as soon as possible," Goodwin replied as he closed his notepad and set it away, "I'll be sure to get the special operations units on the ground by the end of the day today as well."

"Good, I'll have my boys alerted as such. We'll get coordinated in that area as quickly as we possibly can to get this moving. I'll have the proper calls placed to the right people immediately to get us whatever arrangements we need to get your people in here fast.", Foxworth said. "I can tell it will be a pleasure working with you all."

"Thank you, good day, General Foxworth," Said the air force officer as his aides prepared to leave, "It's nice again to be working with your nation again, my J-4 will be sure to have the invoice of the next supply shipments coming in from the Millington airhead to your logistics people."

As the group filed from the room, Foxworth remained alone. He surveyed the map on the wall, a slight grin forming across his lips.

"Maybe we can pull this off and get out of here alive.", he said to himself. A slight rapping came at the doorframe, and he turned to be greeted by a young female Air Force lieutenant.

"Sir, Operation Lampyridae is in full swing."
"I'll be in the control center right away.", he said while switching the map off. The pixels died out as he switched the light off and closed the door.

Judgement was at hand in the Strobovian.

********************

HIMCS Richtor
Laurana-class BBCN
Strobovian Strait; near Oceanian formations

With the neutralization of the Espada del Imperio, the HIMCS Richtor was named acting flag of forces in the Strobovian, remaining one of the few capital ships in the Strobovian Strait that was nearly unscathed.

In all, less than forty combat ships out of the original one-hundred remained operational, and only about a fourth of those ships were at near 100% capacity. The Cravanians had fallen back from the Strobovian Line with the loss of four carriers total, four others wandering far behind the lines awaiting the order to launch their Archons again and support other fleet actions. Those ships which did remain had taken a lower profile, their survival crucial to the success of NATO forces in the strait at a later time.

The Naval Ensign of His Imperial Majesty's Navy flapped in the breeze on the tall mast of the Richtor, below the teal, white, and green of the nation's flag. The two flew proudly on the mast, a symbol that the Imperial Navy had not given up just yet.

"Oceanian assets fired off their first salvo, Op Lampyridae is a go, sir."

Rear Admiral James Reikar, a native Aurelian, smiled as he adjusted his white cap.

"Ready our own first salvo, inform the group to assume standard protocol as outlined in the briefing for Op Lampyridae."

The Richtor and her escorts had been awaiting the order after falling back from the line, and now their radar officers giggled with delight at the idea of lighting off a massed barrage of anti-shipping missiles from their VLS cells. This would, however, have to be done in coordination with the rest of the operation. Once the success or failure of the Oceanian missiles was confirmed and the bait had been taken, the Cravanians would let loose with their own barrage of missiles in addition to a barrage from Carpanthium and whatever the Oceanians would deliver in their subsequent waves.

Knight to D4.

**********************

Imperial Square
Laurana, Cravan

Dusk. One by one, the crowd in the square grew. What had started as a small gathering organized on one forum had grown beyond what was originally intended, and soon enough Imperial Square was filled almost beyond capacity.

Director Anagrams heard the constant yet surprisingly quiet noise which the crowd emitted from her office above the square, and rose from her desk. Drawing back the drapes which adorned the window that overlooked the square, she was taken aback at the sight. Thousands upon thousands of people had gathered, all carrying either a candle or flag. The candlelight was further augmented by the lamps in the square, and the massive fountain in the center was lit up by spotlights under the water, spreading a shimmering light across the crowd. Flags were of all types of those nations touched by the conflict, foremost being Cravanian. Oceanian, Aequatian, Illiorian, Scandavian, and numerous other NATO nations had flags represented; while even Questarian and Northfordian flags were fairly common. The Commonwealth flags, however, held a different meaning. A sign of support towards the innocent life lost and suffering incurred on both sides. A group of people with a massive Carpanthian flag had set to work draping it over the fountain, the light and water shimmering through the fabric and causing the light to dance wildly across the red and green of the Carpanthian colors.

All this, and mere days ago the same square was used to protest the war. No matter their political affiliations or ethnic background, everyone in that crowd was a Cravanian that night. Even foreign nationals who were in Laurana who attended were to be considered Cravanians. The people had united in this time of uncertainty, in support of peace. And it had been realised that the only way peace could possibly be achieved would be through war. So it would be.

Director Anagrams continued to stand in awe of the outpouring of support for the people all the way on the other side of Haven, their pain and suffering felt here at home. A tear ran down her cheek, and she stepped away from the window for a moment and sat down on the couch to the side in her office. It was here that, for the first time throughout the entirety of the conflict, she broke down and let the human being inside of her take hold of her emotions. She had reached that point, as she sat and sobbed on that couch. The crowd's support had touched her quite dearly.

The phone rang, and she composed herself as best she could. Her ten minutes of emotion were up, and it was once again time to take the weight of her nation up upon her shoulders.

"Primary Director's office, Liz speaking."
"Liz, the Oceanians have begun in their combined assault, we've followed suit. You're requested down in the situation bunker."
"I'll be there in a moment, Dave.", she said, wiping a tear from her eye. "There's quite the candlelight vigil up here outside the square."
"Well, that's nice and all, but there's a war to fight out there and we need you, Liz."
"I'll be there now, then."

On the way out of her office, she grabbed a box of tissues, wiping away the tears which had manifested at her eyes.

"Back to work.", she said as she descended the flight of steps in a hidden corridor in the Directorate building, coming to the service elevator which would take her far below.

War doesn't wait for anyone., she thought as she stepped onto the elevator after flashing her ID to the guard, her heels clicking on the tile floor. And I suppose I best not fall behind.

The elevator jerked, and she began her descent to the bunker far below.

Drop Zone: Black, Cherry Island, Southeast Haven, July 15

The dawn of Operation: Haven Express D+1 had broken over 2 SCAR as Captain Novoselic and his team returned to the drop zone's position with his team walking slowly behind him. The special forces troopers had not slept since before they had left Aequatio over forty hours prior, and were desperately hoping that the Paras could take over the reconnaissance and surveillance duties for a time before being sent back out. The pathfinders' uniforms and boots were covered in dried and wet mud and earth and the local foliage placed in their helmets, patrol and boonie hats had browned and wilted. The troopers walked past one of the battalion's fighting positions, a section of Paras backed up with a tripod-mounted MG72 general-purpose machinegun, as the pathfinders made their way to the battalion command post for make their report and then find a quiet hole to sleep in for a few hours.

Lieutenant-Colonel Jones was still directing his battalion from the now established command post, which now consisted of his company's rectangular, general-purpose olive green tent staked into the dug-in position and surrounded with a two-layer wall of sandbags, many filled by the officer's own spade, and the plastic camouflage netting draped over the entire position. The pathfinder captain made his way inside and gave his report to the battalion S-3 before exiting and leaving with his team to dig their sleeping holes. It was then that the operations staff started at their computers, being powered by the hidden generator outside, by sending out the battalion's first pair of RQ-22A "Artemis" (http://www.letectvi.cz/src/letectvi/img/news/prumysl/2007/01/rq8a.jpg) high-endurance unmanned aerial vehicles to begin their duty of taking over reconnaissance and surveillance of the surrounding area from the overworked special forces soldiers. The miniature helicopters lifted off the ground and took to the air as they started to run their separate vectors, each guided and monitored by ground crews in the back of modified Cougar HMMWV light trucks which had arrived via a drop landing from a low-flying C-181A Starlifter II transport in the morning's first drop.

The engineers continued their work on the battalion's airstrip, like their comrades at the other battalion zones, and began to work in shifts as daylight broke. Although they would not be prepared to accept landing aircraft for another day, the airstrip was capable of taking Low Altitude Parachute Extraction System items as Starlifter II transports flew low and the cargo was seemingly pulled from the back of the aircraft by the parachutes and slowed as they slid across the flattened earth. The cargo would be pulled off the airstrip for the next aircraft to arrive and unpacked by the battalion's logisticians.

Sergeant-Major Rottman inspected most of the newly-arrived supplies along with a number of personnel from the 1st Air Assault Brigade's forward support battalion attached to 2 SCAR. Among the most important arrivals were the deconstructed MPQ-75 radar suites and MIM-120K Starbuck surface-to-air missiles for theatre air defence against possible enemy strikes performed by aircraft or cruise missiles. Rottman left the personnel to perform their duties as he walked on to inspect another unit, his G102 Commando carbine in his hand as he walked donned in his RNBC oversuit, purchased from the Navy and in the Aequatian Woodlands Standard Pattern (http://i191.photobucket.com/albums/z317/Aequatio/WSP.jpg), which was now covered in mud and earth, his M93A2 Mask in its haversack around his waist bounced with each step as his boots stepped over the grass. The other soldiers of the battalion had worn their suits more for the extra warmth they provided in the overnight than for the belief that a chemical attack was to occur, although many had removed the overjacket and left it to sit as they worked on their fighting holes, many had used local vegetation as cover while others worked to press in the earth against the walls. Standing orders were to hold their place and wait until the airstrips were finished, and until then, that is what the Paras would do.

----------

Millingston International Airport, Carpanthium, Cravanian Overseas Territory, July 15

Just as they had been arriving for the past three days, the stream of Aequatian Republic Air Force strategic airlifters continued as aircraft en route from San Nereiana arrived still partly covered with the sand of that desert region to the south. Aboard these aircraft were the men and equipment of the 41st Engineering Brigade (Heavy), originally attached to the 41st Infantry Division (Mechanized) deployed in San Nereiana, they were called to duty in Carpanthium to aid in the fortification of the small Cravanian peninsula. The brigade were equipped mainly with desert-oriented equipment, including the Aequatian Desert Standard Pattern (http://i191.photobucket.com/albums/z317/Aequatio/DSP.jpg) uniforms and sand-coloured paint on vehicles, which immediately stood out when they were compared to their allied counterparts in the mainly temperate area.

The engineers were quickly divided among their base battalions and were deployed to the defensive lines under Cravanian direction where they would begin the work of hardening the colony against Northfordian aggression. The commanding officers of the units quickly took note of the light and temporary posture which had been created by the allied forces, mainly the simple roadblocks and few defensive positions which had been created. The staffs were quick to take over direction of their personnel as they completed their evaluations and started the planning of their own operations in the fortifications. The first of which involved the creation of the dense minefields as M939A5 5-ton and even the heavier M985A3 HEMTT trucks were brought from the supply zone at the brigade's central command post out to the corresponding units as they began to arm and lay mines, mainly planting the M105 automated wide-area munitions along bypass routes of the fixed locations along the now-fortified roadblocking positions. The roadblocks were reinforced with visible Czech hedgehog steel obstacles and a number of concrete Dragon's Teeth spikes planted on the ground. The M105 WAM uses acoustic and seismic sensors in its ground platform to detect, track, and classify potential targets, and then launches an infrared detecting submunition over the top of the selected target. Once the submunition detects the target, it fires an explosively formed penetrator (EFP) to defeat the target with a standoff lethal radius of a hundred meters, 360 degrees around and is fully autonomous from final arming to target engagement.

The remainder of the mines being deployed in front of the front lines were via the GATOR II Mine Deployment System (MDS) using the brigade's multipurpose CV-22D Osprey tiltrotors as they dropped the 450-kilogram cluster bombs at speeds around three hundred knots at altitudes of between a hundred and one thousand meters. A fuze in the weapon controls the opening of the dispenser at one of ten predetermined altitudes between nine hundred and ninety metres using a ranging LIDAR aboard the Ospreys. Arming begins when the dispenser opens with the activation of the mines batteries. The circular mines have a rectangular plastic "aeroballistic" adaptor. Once the mines reach the ground they arm in between one and ten seconds. The Cravanian and allied commanders expressed their concerns with a mine system which was impossible to chart for disposal, but the engineering officers assured them that the mines were set to self-destruct after a period of fifteen days. Any which would fail to do so would be rendered disabled after a month's time when the batteries' power expired and completely safe to hunt and dispose of after the end of hostilities. Within twleve hours' of work, the engineers and their aircraft had sown thirty two kilometres of minefields along the front lines, each one a kilometre in-depth, and each square kilometre of the field inlaid with up to nine hundred sixty mines, one out of each six a BLU-99 anti-personnel munitions and the remainder BLU-98 anti-tank mines, a most assured buffer against any advance by either infantry or armour.

The BLU-98 anti-tank mine is the heart of the GATOR II MDS. A low flat cylinder with a rectangular aeroballistic shell. A magnetic sensor in the mine detects targets, when it detects a suitable target and the target reaches the most vulnerable approach point it detonates the mine. The mine is also triggered if the mine is moved, or if the battery reaches a certain low voltage point. Once the fuze is triggered, a small clearing charge is fired that clears any debris that may be on top of the mine. A second larger charge is triggered half a second later, creating an Explosively Formed Penetrator using the Misznay-Schardin effect capable of penetrating almost ten centimetres of rolled homogeneous steel armour, more than sufficient for penetrating the under armour of even main battle tanks. To compliment the BLU-98 anti-tank munitions were also the BLU-99 anti-personnel mines, mixed in at a one-to-six ratio with the anti-tank weapons. After the BLU-99 reaches the ground, and the arming delay has passed - a squib is fired launching eight tripwires from the mine. Tension on any of the wires triggers the mine electronically and has an effective fragmentation radius of about twenty five meters. Like the BLU-98, the anti-personnel weapon also has an anti-handling device integrated with it to prevent it from being disarmed by hand and detonate upon being moved or dismantled.

Even though the engineers were busy laying area denial weapons, they were working alongside military intelligence as they helped set up a number of advanced sensor systems which were connected to the Command and Control Centre at Point Weatherson. The sensors field included multimode sensors for target detection, location and classification; and an imaging capability for target identification in place of conventional reconnaissance and scout units. The would be used to perform mission tasks such as surveillance, target acquisition and situational awareness, including Radiological, Nuclear, Chemical, Biological early warning. Any enemy units passing within the detection field of the hidden sensors would be immediately detected and their location known to Aequatian intelligence and operations staff and passed on to field commanders for a quick response, including air and fire mission strikes and even full counterattacks by ground forces. The Aequatians knew that the enemy was coming and they worked hard to support their allies with every skill and resource they had at their disposal.

In addition to their military objectives, the Aequatians also aided in the humanitarian mission as well, after the unloading of their equipment and supplies at the defensive positions and returning to the central brigade point, the Aequatian drivers in the M939A5 trucks would stop at the various villages and townships along the way back and embark the civilians in order to bring them to Millingston so that they were away from the potential combat zones in the coming onslaught. The personnel aboard the trucks would help the civilians load their belongings aboard the cargo compartments and help to secure the people, one young lance corporal rode in the back with a single mother and her little girl on his lap the entire trip to Millingston, refusing to be away from them as they both reminded him too much of his own wife and daughter back home in Vanaheim. Although Aequatian flags on the vehicles were not common, each one brought cheers from people as they vehicles moved passed the civilian areas in the countryside and the streets of Millingston as the smiling soldiers waved back proudly to the people they were protecting, one special occasion occurred when there was a delighted roar from the Aequatian column when a young woman stripped to the waist and her bra was swung aboard one of the passing HEMTT trucks to yells of approval by the engineers. As one Aequatian officer said to the press earlier that morning, "The Northies and their Q.C. allies might be fighting for the land that Carpanthium occupies, but we're fighting for the people, and their spirit, that live here."

Strobovian Strait
Task Force 9
1,150km from IQN Force D/Force E

"Azazian and Cravanian fleets report readiness, Admiral Duilius," reported the Fleet Communications Officer. The senior communications officer of the flag officer commanding an Imperial Navy Task Group or Task Force was usually given the title of FCO. Normally that person was a Commander, although they were sometimes as senior as a Captain (JG) or as junior as a Lieutenant. It usually depended on the person and the importance a particular flag officer placed on his flag's communication officer.

"Thanks, Commander," replied Fleet Admiral Duilius. "Right, time to get down and dirty. Captain, you listening in?"

"Aye, sir," answered the Captain of the Superdreadnaught HIMS Siren.

"Right, here's what I want. Lampyridae calls for a missile assault sufficient enough to make the Moggies to light off those god awful radars of theirs. The easy solution is to just throw a shitload of missiles at them and hope for the best, but I think we can do better. Instead of trying to seed the wave with EW birds, why don't we make the EW birds our first wave? Program them so that they only radiate decoys and then space them out enough so that it looks like there are really over 17,000 missiles instead of two thousand and change. Follow that up a minute later by the real missiles in home-on-radar/home-on-jam mode with absolute priority for the Moggies' electronic signals? There's no reason why they won't take the bait, they have to know they haven't even come close to seeing our best stuff; even if they realize we're being clever, they have to honor the threat and by the time they burn through the decoy signals the second wave will have them. It doesn't even matter if the Moggies are destroyed, really, just so long as their radars are out of action and our IAF friends can have their fun. Sound good?" Duilius asked?

"Should work, sir. Like you said, they have to honor the threat since the Mogamis represent what are probably their most important ships. They have to defend them, because if they don't they're screwed," answered the Captain.

"Right then. Pass the plan along to the other flags and tell them they have an hour until go time," ordered the Auroran Fleet Admiral.

"Aye, sir," affirmed the Captain before closing the internal comm channel.

"Comms," barked Duilius, "send the pre-arranged signal to the JSC."

"Sir!" The FCO replied quickly.


Joint Strategic Command
The Pit

The signal, really a coded message with a very specific header, was rather short, but it set in motion the movement of the Expeditionary Fleets that had been held in check against possible Praetonian involvement in the war. At this point it didn't matter if they jumped in, the EFs were needed in the Strob and the Home Fleets would just have to make do with help from the IAF's strategic bombers. In all 24 Expeditionary Fleets began movement from their mooring in the Galicias as a leisurely 25 knots, at which speed they would make the Strobovian Strait in a mere nine days. Normally a fleet would cruise at two knots faster, but all of the Gehenna class SDVs were joining the fleet. When the grand Imperial fleet cleared the Birchesters another three EFs would link up with the massive fleet and with any luck the six EFs fighting in the Strob would be the last piece of the puzzle to the fleet that would bring the battle to the IQN.

The message also carried a secondary command, a final confirmation for the bombers that would be participating in the attack against Force D and Force E. They would be the hammer to accompany TF 9's anvil.


Strobovian Strait
Task Force 9
1,100km from IQN Force D/Force E

"Sir, Azazian and Cravanian fleets report initiation of Lampyridae," the FCO reported.

"Very well. Task Force orders, my compliments and open fire. May God be with us all," Duilius intoned as he issued the fateful order.

And so it began. The first missile launch came, appropriately enough, from a Tenchu class guided missile battlecruiser with the rest of the TF, or at least those that still had strike missiles, quickly followed. Once the last EW missile was kicked out from its tube a one minute pause followed, and then the real show began. As one, the battlecruisers, heavy cruisers, and heavy destroyers began launching their real strike missiles, the smoke from the boosters blanketing the fleet in a cloud of white. 144 seconds later the fleet had spent almost all of its remaining missiles, with only the escorting submarines having any left. Now, at least for the fleet, it was a matter of waiting to see how many kills the missiles racked up. But it was hardly the end of the show, the grand finale was still to come.


Strobovian Strait
Bomber Squadrons
1,400km from IQN Force D/Force E

The bombers, depending on their distance from the launch point and speed, had all taken off and different times, but the timing for their take-offs had been such that they met up at roughly the same time and formed up to move to the launch point some 300 kilometers behind the Imperial fleet. Every bomber based in Aurora, Padma, and Rana was in the air and preparing to serve notice to the Questarians that they'd have to do better and that perhaps using kinetics against their runways was a bad idea. They were like bees, it only pissed them off to hit their homes.

There was no finesse to their launch, it was all attack birds and it rode in the wake of the second TF 9 launch. The only differences between the birds, as they were nearly the same model, were the size of the waves and their targets. The bombers' wave would be going after the carriers of the combined IQN force. If the carriers could be taken out, Task Force 9 would have an easier time holding open the range while its carrier-base strike aircraft whittled down the escorts and battleships, assuming the Questarians pressed the attack.

The missiles were expelled from the bellies and wings of the bombers and they rose like a black tidal wave to swallow the Questarian aircraft carrier whole. The missiles cared not for quarter, they only knew they were instructed to find the Questarian carriers and kill them. Even if the simple machines had been capable of emotion, it would have been viewed as a weakness thats entire purpose was to kill by destroying itself.

Sir, everything has been arranged and we are on schedule. The package is ready to be delivered.

The senior military officer tightened his lip and nodded gently upon receiving the situation update concerning the upcoming operation. The green light had been given to commence the first black bag operation of the war, one that would be risky but of the utmost importance. The only existing file documenting the operation and its details was taken by the aged officer to a highly secure safe, where it was placed inside and locked away for all eternity.

At 0200 hours the first phase of Operation: Chainsnap commenced, and from Fort Kensington a single submarine cast off into the cold, choppy Freekish waters and began moving towards Haven. The Allanean sub was one of many donated to Dreadfire's forces over the years for its involvement against the Doomani, and for this operation special preparations were put in place. The entire vessel was scrubbed of any sort of intel that could tie it to the Freekish military or government. No marked maps, no written or digital intel, not even a single Freekish toothpick was on board in case the sub was either captured or destroyed. The crew were all outfitted in Allanean uniforms and used Allanean equipment, though the special operatives on board were better outfitted.

The four 4 man teams of Sentinel Stalkers were some of the most elite in the entire Freekish military, and their experience and skills would certainly be put to good use in order to cripple the Questarian war machine and bring the enemy to their knees. Every bit of gear ranging from uniforms to weapons were either Allanean or Doomani in origin, with serial numbers and other identifying marks removed. The only truely domestic gear the Stalkers were given were advanced optical headgear the likes of which only saw the light of day for the most highly secretive operations, and even if discovered their origin would be a total mystery.

The teams on board were briefed for days before finally setting sail for Haven, where they would swing around the far northwestern border and approach Allanea from the north, moving down towards the channel and then deploying appropriately. As the team leader of Alpha unit cleaned and readied his weapon, he replayed a portion of the final meeting in his head.

Alright men, as you know thus far NATO forces are succeeding in both blocking the Questarian assaults and driving them back. For this operation, you will insert into Allanea and advance towards the Questarian border, and from there you will conduct surveillance, gather whatever intel you can, transmit coordinates for Allanean air and artillery strikes, and disrupt enemy ground activity using harass and retreat tactics.

Only the highest of Allanean authority are aware of this operation, to which they will take full credit for its results. Your combat and survival training will be put to the test in order to evade detection and accomplish your objectives with no assistance. This opertion has been scrubbed clean, and our government will have not a single formal or informal tie to this op.

The sleep that night did not come easy for those on board, for they were different than their Sentinel brethren. While they were of the same origin and bloodlines, they were the only genetically enhanced units in the Freekish military, and were much more advanced in their training and individual thinking skills. Your average Sentinel was indeed bright and able to function individually if need be, but the Stalkers were much more 'human' in their upbringing and could make the kinds of decisions that could potentially effect outcomes of wars.

They were the best Dreadfire had to offer, and after a lengthy sail towards Haven they would begin carrying out their operation and assist the Allaneans in bringing Questers to its knees. Soon Operation: Chainsnap would be in full swing and would give the Allanean military a serious advantage in its ability to pacify enemy forces and bring a decisive victory to the Haven theater. However, the Stalkers would not be able to do much until the long and tiresome journey was over, and with all forms of communication severed, the submarine moved silently onwards toward Haven.

Note: I'm behind in this thread, I know... and I've been sitting on this bit for the last week and not really extended it. What I'm going to do is post this, which is going to be fluid timed as the first firebombs hit Southern Northfordian cities, and knock out a big post replying to that, and events happening on the Eastern Seaboard, as well as those in Carp.

Ice cream.

Cold, foamy and sweet, the famous Ben and Jerry made a formulation of flavours that would become unrivalled: Phish Food, Cookies and Cream, to name a few. Tonight, however, it would be a different Ben and Jerry sailing through a different sort of Foam, meeting an entirely different sort of ‘Phish’. Standing atop the observation deck NNS County, Captain Ben Holmes and Commodore Jerry Prill, they both looked out over the harbour, watching the ships of their squadron file out through the massive, concrete jaws of the bay.

“So this is it?” said the taller of the two, lowering his miniature binoculars that were around his neck.

“Looks like it.” Replied the other man, shorter and stockier. “700 Ships don’t just go out on Exercises…especially given the situation.”

“Hmm” replied the other, placing his binoculars back to his face. “Take a look over at that Battlecruisers over there, towards the arse end of it. They’re loading its strategic canisters.”

Placing his own binoculars to his face, the shorter man scanned the Battlecruisers in the distance.

“Well, least we know they ain’t fucking around Ben.” he said, wincing slightly.

“True…”

“What’s your take then? That twatting admiral can order what ever the hell he wants from his bedside, he’s not the one at sea”

“I know… I still can’t figure if we’re being made sacrificial lambs, or if they actually suspect this dammed thing to work.” Said Ben, tapping his left foot.

“Nor can I, to be honest, but you know, the risk to us is minimal. With a bit of luck, we’ll have nipped outta Newport within the hour, hunted down whatever battle groups are already out there and have a nice little exclusion zone set up 1000 kilometres from their coast. Then, our job’ll consist of watching out own maritime patrol planes do their job while hunting for whatever subs are floating around. Speaking of which, you following what’s going on underwater?”

“No…” said Ben, looking down at his taller counterpart. “Captains orders have been rather…shall we say…lacking in Strategic Scope. I spoke to Dawlish, from the Irrefutable and he reckons the Navy suspects a leak, or possibly a mutiny.”

“It isn’t fear of leaking that’s kept the strategic position quiet Ben” said the Commander. “No, quite the opposite. You remember at the mobilisation conference, the plan was for our subs to join the fray as the Questarians got stuck in, and generally add to the havoc? Well, as we both know, that never happened. Between you and me, Admiralty shitted its pants. They pulled all our subs back, forming a sorta shitty mirror of the line NATO have set up. Plan is to make it sub-proof”

“What the-“ replied Ben, zoning out of the conversation

“Yeah, I know…stupid, isn’t it? We might be shifting 600 of them, but the time it takes to get them in place… and if they bother actually co-ordinating, you know, local superiority…” continued the Commander.

“-Fuck is that.”

“Indeed. Fortunately, I’ve spoke to the guy in control over the whole thing, and it seems the subs’ll be operating in wolfpacks, little groups of a dozen or so, you know… ‘parrently, a few of those passenger jets we nationalised to transfer the Azahans here have been quick fitted with ASW kits. Coupled with the patrol ships we’ve got outfitted, assuming, of course, our Questarian Brothers don’t get absolutely annihilated…we might actually stand half a chance of pulling this thing off. Ben?”

Peering out of his Binoculars, Captain Holmes completely lost track of the conversation, focusing intently on a few figures in the distance.

“Prill” started Ben, still squinting though the binocular lenses, “Look over there, bout 5 degree’s east of my old Corvette, the Swanage. Bunch of guys, pissing round with a horse trailer.”

“Give me a second” said the Commodore, popping the lens. “Over there, you said?” he asked, pointing towards the corvette in the distance.

“Yah” replied Ben, twisting the focus on his Binoculars.

Gazing out of his standard issue binoculars, Commodore Prill was greeted by the strangest image before his eyes. Dozens of men, lined up, looking at what seemed to be a row of pickup trucks, with trailers attached.

“Oh…” muttered the Commodore quietly, taking in the sight. “Those… are our Clandonian friends.”

Eyebrows raised Ben spoke quietly, addressing the Commodore directly.

“Sir”, he started, “I can understand…at a stretch our collusion with the Doomies, but what the fuck is Tricker playing at? How many other invasion forces are we playing fucking host for?”

The Commodore decided not to reply, instead, he placed the binoculars to his eyes and continued to survey the Clandonians in the distance.

“Prill?” continued Ben, “What’s going on?”

Commodore Prill sighed, and turned round to his college.

“What I’m telling you doesn’t leave this room?” he said, eyeing him up. Upon Ben nodding, he spoke fast, and quietly.

“We’re inviting a host of Clandonian…missionaries, mercenaries, whatever you want to call them. Basically, we’re letting them have a pop at the K’stani’s since…well, none of us really fancy doing the whole genocide thing to get them to understand we mean business. It’s win-win. They-for some unknown reason- really, really want to fucking kill K’stani’s… and, well, Tricker and a few other of the crazy bastards seem to think after a bit of genocide what’s left of the K’stani’s will think we’re quite alright. In any event…” he said, looking over his shoulder, “…I don’t particularly relish the thought of killing the fuckers, but the plan is once we’ve locked the place down we’re letting them all pour into what’ll be our sector. Give them jobs, we’ve got the agricultural surplus’s on our side to make sure they get decent food and make sure who ever the hell is under us makes it pretty clear we’re better than the…alternatives.”

Looking slightly grim, Captain Ben Holmes swallowed nervously.

The Morning will come
In the press of every kiss
With your head upon my chest
Where I will annoy you
With every waking breath
Until you,
Decide to Wake up

===

Rubbing his eyes, Tricker squinted. He fucking hated flashing lights. Necessity, however, had driven him to where he was, standing upon a podium in the Central Northfordian Command Bunker with the darlings of the Northfordian Media. It had been over 12 hours since the outbreak of war on the Northfordian front, and this was the first time there was any communication by the Northfordian Government, bar the terse declaration of war that was issued upon the first strikes hitting Northfordian Soil.

Organising his notes, he looked quickly at his watch: 4 Minutes. Four Minutes to prepare, check, recheck and check again to make sure he hadn’t ommitted anything. In any case, it would be wasted: if there were a mistake, it would be too late to correct it. He just sat there, looking over the header to the pages, hoping to god he’d get through it in one piece.

“5…4…3…2…1. You are live”

Speaking in his characteristic sharp voice, he spoke, eyeballing the camera nearest him, and talking straight into the Microphone belonging to the Commonwealth World Service- The Primary Radio Station of the Questarian Commonwealth.

“Good Evening Northfordians, Brothers, Friends, Allies. I am addressing you tonight from the Central Command Bunker in Northford. As I presume most of you are aware, since 06:00 hours this morning the Questarian Commonwealth of Northford has been at war. Fighting with our Brothers in the rest of the Commonwealth, as well as new found friends in the Imperial whatsit of Doomingsland, the Questarian Commonwealth of Northford has found itself in conflict with NATO targets in its immediate vicinity, as well as around its holdings in Southeast Haven.

With this in mind I am passing the ‘Defence of the Realm Act’, retroactive of the break out of hostilities, as well as activating several clauses of the recently passed ‘National Security Act’. Within these limits, the Commonwealth is presently in the process of interning citizens from NATO countries in secure, safe compounds. As well as this, the Commonwealth is advising citizens of neutral countries how to best deal with this crisis, offering them places in civilian shelters, and, where facilities are available, evacuation to a neutral country.

War is a horrid event. With that in mind, I am firm in my belief that whereever possible, one should strive to go to lengths to minimise pain, suffering, and ultimately, death. With this… ideal... in mind, it is sometimes necessary to make short term decisions that might appear rash or, shall we say, cold blooded. It has been reported in the press that the Northfordian Armed Forces have used Weapons of Mass destruction against Cravanian and Oceanian targets in Carpathanium. I can categorically state that accusation to be 100% false. The commonwealth of Northford did, however, fire a large number of short range mortar shells with the outbreak of war that were armed with a range of Chemical, Biological and Radiological warheads. These were short ranged and tasked with the purpose of making any invasion of Northford along the boarder significantly harder. I can categorically state that the radiological weapons did not combust in a nuclear manner: that is to say they were not ‘Nuclear Bombs’ that underwent fusion of fission, rather they were High Explosives laced in a radiological contaminant to aid area denial measures.

In this opening move, there is no doubt that civilians have perished, on both sides of the boarder. Due to the nature of the mortar rounds it was very unlikely they would all fall on the Cravanian side of the boarder. I send my apologies to the families of those who have died, regardless of their nationality. I say only that they were targeted primary to hinder the movement of NATO military forces, and that post war, a full investigation will be launched with compensation for those civilian victims.

It is also true that in the opening stages of the war the Commonwealth struck civilian targets in Carpathanium. Unlike Allanean raids upon London, this was not indiscriminate killing of civilians, with the pure purpose of causing deaths. Rather, the Commonwealth attack certain key Targets within the civilian area of Millingston, focusing upon those which were believed to house key command and control facilities and places where key figures were believed to be in residence. Likewise, where we targeted the port and dock facilities, the Commonwealth endeavoured to target Military targets only. Where civilian deaths occurred, we apologise. That said, we cannot rule out further apty named ‘High Risk Targets’, since we are firmly of the belief that should a successful attack upon a ‘High risk Target’ shorten the war, the attack should be made, regardless of the possibility of further unessasary civilian deaths.

I take to the civilians in Carpathanium directly now. Take cover. Enter Shelters, Bunkers, or whatever else your Government has prepared for you. Do not attempt to leave the country. Do not attempt to take up arms against us, should we choose to invade. Do not give the Northfordian Armed Forces need nor excuse to inflict further unnessasary civilians deaths, and post war, you will be handsomely

Back to the war itself. At this moment, I am personally co-ordinating the Northfordian Armed Forces with my General John Stapleton, my opposite number from the Crown Imperium, to devise plans that will end this war shortly. Within the bounds of prudence and common sense, I am free to disclose that the Commonwealth is presently engaged in combat along the Carpathanium Boarder, The Eastern Seaboard, Kepler’s Edge and also covert Naval actions in the whole of the Strob’. As it stands, I can catagorically state, with 100% certainty, we are not engaged in combat with Kahanistan.

While I could, quite easily, talk at length on how the war is being waged, I am sure that all those listening would appreciate it not possible to do so. All I can say is that we are winning the war, and that every man and women in the Armed Forces are fighting to the best of their ability. I extend this compliment to our Azahan brothers, and also to our Doomani Friends. To our Doomani friends in particular, can I personally, on behalf of the whole Questarian Commonwealth, thank you for aiding us in pacifying the K’stani’s. As you know, it will be greatly rewarded.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I must leave. There is a war to be fought, and frankly, there are better things to do that spend my time talking to you all. I bid you farewell, and good day.”

===

Watford, suburb of Newport.

Green, pleasant, and covered in Oak, Ash, Hazel and Elm, Watford was arguably one of the new large towns that truly marked the boarder between ‘Rural’ and Urban Northford. While 60% of the population lived within 200 miles of the Sea, and another 20% living along the K’stani Boarder, there was only 20% of the population to fill the large, lush, interior of the country. What twenty percent there was, however, was largely involved in Agriculture-in the many large farms in the temperate Climate-, or Industry –in the fortified mini-cities known as ‘Heartlands’-. Fact was that while overproduced foodstuffs by 20% (most of which was exported to Azaha), and was largely able to ensure there was only a small trade deficit for industrial goods, there were large swaths of the interior of Northford that were undeveloped. Whether it was thick deciduous forests, or open temperate grassy plains, undeveloped Northford lacked infrastructure and industry. However, more importantly, it lacked large population centres. In all this meant that those population centres on the edge of the undeveloped interior had an old, weathered look about them that would not be entirely out of place 200 years ago.

On the edge of Watford, hosted one of the Northfordian Armies smallest, and possibly most well protected facilities. The Rutherford Satellite installation was the Northfordian Armies one and only facility to control its independent compliment of Orbital Strike Weapons. The building itself was… ‘Classically Northfordian’, dating from the ‘Great Move’. This translated, quite literally into shipping containers that had been used for freight when the country ‘moved’ to Haven. They had been welded together, buried, insulated and then outfitted with the necessary equipment. The ‘Necessary Equipment’ was, again, rather ‘Classically Northfordian’. The whole notion of placing such a valuable part of the Northfordian Strategic Arsenal in such a…obscure and largely undefended place was that there were less than 1000 people that knew about its existence in Northford and perhaps another 250 that knew about it in The Crown Imperium. This meant that rather than relying on dozens of feet of concrete for protection, it instead relied on the fact that there were very few people that knew about it, and if the facility was disturbed from its slumber, it was certainly to make a strike.

General Longsword had just put down the phone from General Loans. It seemed in the interim between him getting the orders to strike Kahanistan, and calling Longsword, the enemy had also realised the potency of Kinetic Weapons. Damage reports were still being collated, however the Illiorian ‘Mass Drive Strike’ had been rumoured to generally had limited effectiveness. As one of at the Rutherford Satellite installation joked upon hearing it ‘Now Longsword, just ‘cuz we’ve got Needles, don’t make us do an Illiorian and try and hit them at a great big fucking haystack.”

Walking over the control panel Longsword spoke, squinting to see the screen before him clearly. Targets: K’stani Defence Batteries, Ports along the western seaboard, barracks and civilian airstrips. Also, in green letters were new targets, contrasting the dull yellow of the previous ones. Subtitled was the caption ‘High Priority’. Civilian Runways, Military Runways in the Cravanian Territory of Carpathanium as well as ‘Returning Fire’ at the largest Airports and the remainder of the docks in Millingston. Following reports from (Questarian) Satellites, news had reached Northfordian HQ that the Aequatians were re-enforcing the Cravanian positions in Carp’. As far as ‘those up top’ were concerned, such action was provocative in the least, and warranting a strategic response when viewed in the extreme. Fortunately ([I]perhaps) the more moderate wing of the Northfordian Command won over, for two reasons. Firstly, as it was realised, the Commonwealth could not manage another full frontal war with a Gholgoth Power. Far more importantly however was the practical issue that the Northfordian independent satellites remained in Geostationary positions over three main area’s: the Carpanthium Boarder, the K’stani Boarder, and the area around the Southern Northfordian Colony in South East Haven (Kepler’s Edge). As is apparent for even the most inept geographer, none of these were anywhere near Aequatian land.

Pressing several buttons, Longsword opened a small recess in the control panel, revealing a series of small keyholes and a large, green switch. Taking out his master key, he placed it in the first one, turned it, then withdrew it, placing it in the seventh, then the forth and so forth until he had entered his own unique pin code. Upon doing so, the whole facility went ‘hot’. Turning to the nearest operator he kneeled down at the chair which the operator was sitting on, whispering quietly into his ear two words.

“Establish the Link”.

Not in the slightest bit surprised, the operator nodded, talking into the headset he was wearing.

“All personnel report to station. Those on sentry duty lock down facility, activate active protection systems. Establishing direct link with SUBWEP in nine seconds, I copy NINE seconds”.

Counting down, the facility held its breath until the computerised voice emanating from the speakers emitted the phrase ‘Link Activated’.

“For those of you who do not know, it has begun” started General Longsword talking to all those in the room. “In less than 15 minutes, the rods will be released and those for those of our enemies who have unleashed this upon us will see retribution, while those of our enemies who are yet to have directly felt our wrath will soon feel the licking flames of fear inside their heart.

I bid you all Good day.”

===

K’stani Boarder

Unlike the Cravanian Boarder, the K’stani Boarder was fortified from the word ‘go’. Considering the nature of the move to Haven, when the initial Northfordian refugees arrived, the issue of the an independent Cravanian territory was largely a moot point; after all, for the first two years, Northfordian Refugees outnumbered Cravanians. When contrasted to the K’stani boarder, the difference is obvious. From the outset, Northfordian and Questarian tanks raced to the boarder, to secure Northfordian land for Northford.

As the nation of Northford developed and prospered, the southern boarder was allowed to stagnate. Trade with Kahanistan barely occurred, due to the fact that most of Northford’s trade requirements were met by the Commonwealth, or, alternately, by the Cravanians or Praetonia’s. As a measure of efficiency, originally designed to stop criminals escaping along the southern boarder, barbed wire was erected. However, due to the fact there was very little trade, it was deemed easier to place watchtowers along the boarder. Over time, these progressed to all weather bunkers. Finally, the last straw came when the K’stani’s expelled the Midlonians. Despite the fact the Commonwealth was, to say the least, fearful of the Greater Kingdom, the fact was that considering Kahanistan’s history, they were viewed as a moderating influence rather than an aggressor.

So it was; the boarder was fortified over a period of 7 years, turning from an essentially barbed wire wall, to a venerable fortress. It would be foolhardy, however, to assume that the boarder was turned into a large ‘Berlin Wall’. No, rather, there was the original barbed wire fence with watchtowers, backed up by hundreds of bunkers, behind which stood dozens of barracks and armour pens, designed to give the Northfordians maximum flexibility to repel an attack. Interlinked into all of this was the Southshield (tm ) network, which was a large integrated air defence network- the likes of which were found no where else in Northford.

Unlike the Carpathanium defences, the K’stani line had one important difference: it did not rely upon fixed artillery. As rapid fortification upon the Carp line occurred, the focus was upon attrition and large (around 1000 emplacements) concentrations of fixed, immobile artillery. The Buzzwords in North East Northford was ‘Area Denial’. This was a sharp contrast to the K’stani line, where the large number of barracks and armour pens meant that on the contrary, all artillery was Rocket, towed or self propelled, and that rather than relying on continued heavy barrages, the goal here was rapid, lethal saturation.

One little known fact is that until the Northfordians played host to the Azahan compliment, the Northfordian Army possessed only 600 fully working, original ‘Nakils’, with another 800 ‘Monkey Models’ in reserve and disassembled as spare parts. Of course, the Azahan compliment, with their shortage of Armour would (eventually) be made good with the order of 20 000 second hand Nakils from Granate, but in the mean time, that did not remedy the issue at stake. Fortunately, the issue was neither here nor there, since Northfordian doctrine did not dictate large armoured charges, but rather IVF swarms backed up by rapid, massed artillery…

…And today, on the K’stani boarder, that doctrine would be seen.

===

“Hi Ho…”

“Frank, call me a stupid bastard, where the fuggling boobies are those lines?” said a weak, shallow voice.

“Ach, you blind bat, you’re fucking sitting on them” replied Frank, waspish in tone.

Driving their HIMARS across a field, they parked it in the pre-arranged position, outlined with white spray paint, a small rectangle, and a four digit identity code for their individual truck. Looking out their windows, around 6 other trucks were pulling up, lowering jacks into the ground, and manoeuvring the Missile Turret.

“Joe”, started Frank, “You got that envelope?”

“I sure have Boss.” said Joe, bringing out a small briefcase. “You ready?”, he asked.

“As ever.” Frank said as he was placing his finger on a touch sensitive pad on the briefcase, looking to his left as Joe did the same thing.

There was a quiet ‘pop’, and the brief case opened, containing a sealed envelope. They opened it and quickly entered a series of GPS co-ordinates into the small firing computer on the dashboard. There was a small countdown, and both ‘IPMAT’ missiles were away, zooming towards a K’stani 140km away. Frank and Joe waited for the rest of their Battery to do the same, quickly turned around, and sped back to the forward HQ for a rapid reloading.

All across the Northfordian border, the 8000 truck strong National Guard unit was springing into action, using 5% of their force per salvo, in a system of one salvo every 30 minutes. The Targets themselves in the opening wave not moving by any stretch: they were satellite-identified structures that had been listed as possible military targets. They included Large Houses, Warehouses, barracks within range, as well as several targeted at what appeared to be trenches. The munitions were generally High Explosive, although where the ‘trenches’ were targeted, Antipersonnel munitions were used as well, in a complimentary role.

While this was occurring, the Northfordian Army was starting to organise itself for the eventual assault on central Kahanistan, a small armoured column was to lead, backed up large helicopters, and what was known as the ‘IVF’ swarm. All over the Southern boarder, troops were emptying out of their barracks, and amassing themselves at pre-arranged locations in Central Northford, east of Lake Woodford. The process would take several more hours, and would be covered by the massive land based radars that were activating, as well as 60-strong Wraith patrol groups flying along the border, nicknamed the ‘Bluesers’- in reference to the depression they were rumoured to induce upon their foes.

The Northfordian Battle for Central K’stan had started.

===

Blue Water

The dark cold water of the Northern mouth of the Hallad strait licked the hull of the NNS [I]Tweed as it neared its target. Smooth, sleek, and altogether the pinnacle of Northfordian Naval Engineering, the Tweed was carrying a cargo distinctly different from the usual compliment of Ballistic Missiles. Instead of missile tubes, there were extended Cargo holds, and where there used to be torpedo tubes, there were now racks containing their precious cargo. ‘Precious’ quite literally was the term to be used to describe the Cargo of the Tweed, and the two other subs travelling with it, for in this small group of ships held approximately 5% of the Northfordian Governments material wealth.

As the first convoy of what would eventually be several, the Tweed, and its partners the NNS Saville and the NNS Roe brought the most precious cargo, the theory being that if the enemy did eventually find out about the ‘Plan’, at least the most valuable metals would already have been transferred.

In the Cargo’s, the Tweed, Saville and Roe had over 100 Billion universal Standard Dollars worth of metals, as well as several documents that pertained to the transfer of Government held shares in Northfordian Oil – shares that would actually prove to be the largest form of collateral transferred to Hamptonian Territory during the course of loan repayments.

Approaching their destination, the three ships surfaced, put men on deck, and fired off flares periodically, as arranged with the Hamptonians, to ensure that their presence was known, and not mis-interpreted as that of an enemy vessel. Their destination: Weslyn, a naval port in the Hamptonian land of Oltremare. Arriving into the pre-arrange dock, they threw their ropes aside to steady their vessel, waiting for the Hamptonian force that was to relieve them of their Cargo.

The Northfordian missile assault was highly effective against the reservists holding the northern line, who had already suffered extensive casualties from the Doomani and Candrian attacks.

While most of the larger structures, such as bunkers, armour pens, and barracks, had CIWS or THEL protection, smaller targets such as trenches and smaller warehouses were effectively unprotected. On top of that, most of the MLRS that Kahanistan had on this line had been damaged or destroyed after firing on the Doomani; a counter-battery attack would not be effective.

However, even with the mounting losses among the northern line, there were numerous minefields, machine gun nests, and other hazards awaiting the enemy should they advance...

---

Within Metzuda and around the Liberty Line three hundred kilometres from the capital city, thousands of monkey-model M7T1 and M7T2 Spartacus main battle tanks were in various stages of production, along with surface-to-air missiles, shells, artillery pieces, and small arms.

After the flight or attempted flight of some 75 million people, there were now enough guns in Kahanistan to arm every last man, woman, and child with something, ranging from a pistol to a heavy machine gun or rocket launcher.

Bomb shelters, already plentiful in the fortress capital, were now being dug or expanded at a frightening pace, stocked with food, ammunition, NBC suits, and baking soda vats for rolling around inside in the event of a Pestis Dei attack. Wells were being dug with advanced machinery to replace supplies suspected of contamination. Field hospitals were set up in the homes of Civil Defence volunteers. Kahanistan was on a total war footing.

Cravanian Air Defense and Detection Center
Western Cravanian Hills

It was a relatively quiet night at the CADDC, or what was thought to be night in an underground bunker. Information from every corner of the Empire was relayed to the CADDC, where information was processed and orders handed out on a strategic level.

Usually a strike would be detected in-theatre and relayed back, however in-theatre assets in Carpanthium lacked the proper eyes to see to the heavens above. The CADDC, however, had its eyes and ears poised towards the skies. When a few small blips appeared over Carpanthium, denoting the entry of foreign objects from orbit, the alarm bells began to ring.

*************************

Halls of the Directorate
Command Bunker
Laurana, Cravan

"Ma'am, CADDC on line four.", an officer said, passing the phone to Director Anagrams.

Elizabeth took the red phone, a dark sign already, and pressed it to her ear.

"Elizabeth speaking, how may I help you?"
"Evening, ma'am. General Denardio, Commander in Chief of Imperial Air Operations. I'll get right to business. We've detected a kinetic strike originating from Commonwealth satellites over Carpanthium and Kahanistan, and I'm awaiting confirmation to perform a clean sweep of known Commonwealth satellites."
"You have my confirmation get those things out of the sky, and now."
"Yes, ma'am, the next flyover of our killsats is estimated at seventeen minutes and forty-five seconds. We'll have the two of them down by then."
"Good. Keep this line open and free of chatter, we'll be using a lot I think."

And with a click, the line died.

"What do you propose we do in response?", an officer asked the Director.
"The destruction of their satellites should send them a clear enough message that we are not to be toyed with. If they persist, we have our own orbital kinetic weaponry which can easily be brought to bear on them. I didn't want to resort to that, I had hoped the Northfordians could remain somewhat civil. But the more and more I hear about Tricker, the more and more I fear for the lives of our people everywhere."

*************************

Low-Earth Orbit over Southern Haven
Cravanian Kill-Satellite CO-114

CO-114 lazily drifted through the heavens, the blue, green, and white sphere below it appearing tranquil, a misleading appearance. CO-114 was a satellite specifically designed for use against foreign satellites, armed with six anti-satellite missiles clamped to her hull by hydraulic claws. Her patrol route brought her over Haven several times a day, criss-crossing paths with two other Cravanian kill satellites. It was CO-114's lucky day to be the first Cravanian orbital asset to fire off a strike.

CO-114 was guided from the CADDC, where the last known positions of the Northfordian kinetic satellites were recorded. It was assumed that the satellites would be in a stationary orbit over the area, and thus the strike commenced.

From over two-hundred kilometer's distance, the clamps on four of the missiles let go of their cargo, pushing them out and away from the satellite. The coordinates and RADAR tracking systems had already locked on to their targets before their motors were engaged, rocketing off into the silent vacuum of low Earth orbit, away from the mother satellite which had held them for so long. Two broke off and pursued the satellite over the Kahanistani border, while the other two rocketed towards the satellite over the Northfordian border. Meanwhile, CO-114's job was complete. She continued her patrol route vigilantly, down four missiles from the six she had started with.

***********************

Across Carpanthium, numerous runways were put out of commission. A few remained open, but those hit by the kinetic strikes were temporarily out of commission until the proper repairs could be made. Cravanian engineers set to work immediately, and some Aequatian engineers at the front lines were called back to help speed up the process. (RPed with Aequatio's permission) In all, it was a setback, but nothing more. The airfields would be in operation some time after.

Structures around the airfields, meanwhile, were a different story. A few hardened aircraft shelters suffered blows, destroying the valuable contents inside, but all in all the strike was not all that effective against NATO air power in the region. Docks and shipyards in Millingston, however, had suffered considerably. A few remained open, but for the most part the shipyards were completely out of commission. Upon the arrival of the Hamptonian hospital ship it was expected that the Hamptonians would have to use helicopter transport to take supplies and personnel ashore and to the ship until the proper arrangements could be made.

******************

Point Charlie
43km from the Northfordian Border
Carpanthian Mountains

"Everything set?", the officer on duty asked, barging in to the small room which in most respects could be considered a closet.
"Aye, mate.", came the response from the radio operator. "We're ready when you are."

The officer entered the room, and pointed through the soundproof glass at an enlisted man sitting in a chair in the opposite room, large headphones covering his ears and a microphone before his face. The officer counted down from five, and upon the end of his countdown gave the man a thumbs up.

"Goooooooooooooooooood evening eastern Northford, we're gonna rock it from Carpanthium all the way down to K'stan!", he said loudly and clearly into the microphone, his Carpanthian accent clearly audible in the playback. "This is Jumpin' Jeff, your host for this evening and for the duration of this here nasty little conflict. And I'm reporting to you live right now from Carpanthium!"

The radio show, broadcast from a small makeshift studio in a Cravanian camp in Carpanthium, used the camp's rather large communications array to broadcast its message. From there, it was relayed by AWACS and electronic warfare planes in the area, the signals sent as far into Northfordian territory as possible. The frequency? The same as the Commonwealth World Service, and several other frequencies nearby to catch the casual listener's attention.

"So, how is everyone doing today? I hear that your big man Admiral Tricker had some nasty things to say about us over here in Carpanthium, and we'd like to set the record straight that he's the only one in this here theatre of war attacking civilians deliberately. Don't believe what he tells you, for the rumors of Northfordian attacks on civilian targets are true. Check the internet for yourself, there's several videos featuring the central bank tower and hotel being impacted and burning, mainly from the news crew who had been broadcasting live at the time. That is assuming your great glorious leader hasn't already limited internet access over there."

Private "Jeff" paused for a breath, then continued with his segment.

"Currently Prime Minister Brookes is sitting in a hotel room in Laurana, sipping wine with His Imperial Majesty. Your people who were here in Millingston would be doing the same if Tricker were not in control, as the Imperial Arms Hotel where you blokes were supposed to be kept was hit by an ICCM. Northfordian casualties are still being tallied up, but luckily only a small percent of the interned Northfordians had been admitted to the hotel at the time of the attack. A lot of deaths were averted thanks to the slow moving and inefficient juggernaut that is government, which is lucky for some people for once, heh.

"In any case, I'd just like to point out that it's not us here who started this bloody war, it's a certain Questarian King and his cabinet. Your man Tricker is merely a puppet of them there monarchs and such in London, leading Northford on a crash course to destruction and economic ruin at the rate things are keeping up. You're certainly not winning, as the Questarians had probably planned to 'ave the Strob cleared out by now. Our lads an' lasses up there 'ave stuck it to the Questarians, and 'ave not given one inch. Casualties have been high, but spirits are even higher, for we're all fighting for one common goal here: freedom.

"No matter what you are told about NATO, remember this: NATO does not tax its members, such as the Commonwealth. NATO does not force its members to join each other in offensive actions, such as your Commonwealth is doing. Although some nations in NATO haven't the best human rights track records, look at us. Look at Oceania. Look at the Scandavians. The Illiorians. Look at our Midlonian friends, who although aren't NATO are doing a bang-up job of helping us. And now, look at yourselves and your nation's allies. Is that what you want for your nation? Is that what you desire? Northfordian civilians died in the opening minutes of the war due to gas attacks on the border, in an attempt to deny the area to NATO forces. At the moment, I can assure you NATO forces 'ave no intentions of charging across that border of your's. Allied forces here in Carpanthium merely have the interests of the Carpanthian people in mind, and that is their freedom and safety. We also fear for the safety of the Northfordian people, our long-time friends and allies turned against us due to the Questarian juggernaut.

"I know not what your leader is up to at this very moment, probably off wanking or some such thing in his precious little bunker. But I do know that Cravanian, Oceanian, Midlonian, Aequatian, Scandavaian, Illiorian, and all other forces fighting against the Commonwealth here fight for the freedom of the people. Do not believe the propoganda, for we are all of freedom loving nations bonded together in the hardships of warfare.

"Heed my word, take a gander online at what your boy Tricker's done for you. And realise that his course is taking Northford closer and closer to oblivion. I know for a fact this is not what you want, for Northford is a free and powerful nation that can exist without the influence of the Questarians and their imperialistic attitude. They lead you down the path of ruin and destruction.

"If freedom and liberty is to prevail here in Haven and around the world, those who lead these hate machines must be stopped. They must be brought down to their knees, stripped of their power so that further lives are not lost.

"You Northfordians who I've spoken to tonight know what's going on. We wouldn't lie to you about this, and you can confirm it from almost every reputable media source on the internet. Tricker must be stopped.

"Give him piss. Take the bastard down, and restore freedom.

"I leave you tonight, with not your pre-arranged Commonwealth programming. The bullshit from that channel is unbearable, between the constant play of the Questarian national anthem and whatnot. Instead, I leave you with this."

He pointed across to the DJ booth, where a mix of various rock songs famous across Haven began to play on the hijacked airwaves.

"This is Jumpin' Jeff, signin' off for now. I'll be back, mates. May insert deity here keep you safe."

The "On-Air" sign faded, and the officer in the other room gave "Jeff" the thumbs up. Knowing the sound-proofing between the rooms prevented him from being heard, he shouted at the top of his lungs "NOW DO I GET ME FUCKIN' PROMOTION YE SLIMY GIT?"

Lucky for him, neither officer could read lips well.

Assault on the Northford Line

The initial units that had entered the gap had indeed run smack into the anti-armor mines; the results had been less than spectacular on the Doomani end of things. Numerous vehicles had been disabled and imobilized having had their treads blown off, while other had been totally blown apart, (the heavier Imperator-IIs were well armored enough against mines to survive being destroyed; the lighter Testudo-IIIs, against some of the larger mines, however, were not). With those vehicles being disabled, the crews remained inside, turning their vehicles into stationary fighting positions rather than abandon them. The infantry moving alongside the vehicles became more warry of enemy mines; however, it soon became apparent that the area was infested exclusively with anti-tank mines.

The vehicles following up the initial ones into the gap were better prepared; before they moved anywhere, they fired a few strings of detchord into their planned path in order to neutralize any potential mines and clear the way for follow-up vehicles. In the mean time, the infantry had formed a perimeter with the disabled vehicles while simultaneously establishing sectors of fire into the trench to stave off any counter-attacks.

With machinegun and well-aimed rifle fire going into the trench via the infantry, some of the disabled vehicles also joined in, firing air bursting rounds over the heads of their comrades, over sections of the trench that had been painted by the infantry; the ensueing air burst would send a jet of white-hot flechettes downwards into the trench, literally liquifying any infantry in the sector.

At around this time, the mortars began dropping down. Mortar variants of the Imperator tank and Testudo fighting vehicle- 203mm and 125mm platforms respectively -began sounding off. 125mm rounds dropped in rapid succession right into the sections of trench that the infantry were taking fire from, utilizing airbursting rounds designed to fire thousands of flechettes down into the trench over a wide area; by now the tanks and IFVs were just begining to get into the fray following the delay caused by the mines. Meanwhile, the pincer movement against the sections was fully commencing.

Tank units began hitting the pillboxes frontaly, putting 125mm HESH rounds into them to silence them once and for all; these were supplemented by 203mm mortar rounds designed to simply collapse the pillboxes and bunkers. The advance was slow but deliberate; the Kahanistanis had certainly inflicted their fair share of casualties, but the Doomani had regained the momentum. The infantry would move down the trench, bayonets fixed, in a swift, disciplined manner; working closely in tandem with their supporting armor and mortars as well as friendly machineguns, they would pin the enemy in place with small arms fire while the mortars delivered the killing blows from above. Once the enemy had been silenced they would move up, making sure to keep twenty feet away from dead enemies at the very least before putting a 2-round burst of 6.7mm into their head to make sure they wouldn't be getting back up and causing trouble for them as they got closer.

Whenever they encountered bunkers, occupied or not, a perimeter would be established outside the door and the squad's flamethrower man would move in, firing a three second jet of flame into the bunker to make sure the inhabitants were roasted alive. All in all, it was standard operational procedure for taking down a fortified line. With their Northfordian allies joining in, things could only end more quickly. While the Kahanistanis may have had a two-to-one advantage, the current style of fighting meant that their numbers would mean nothing but more attrition reserves: with the bottlenecked fighting amongst the trenches, the defenders would not be able to apply their numbers without overcrowding their sections, which would likely kill more of their men than the enemy.

Despite the Kahanistanis manning the trench line may not walk away that day with victory (or even their lives for that matter), they would gain one thing: the respect of the men killing them. The ferocious, nearly fanatical defense of the Kahanistanis and their lack of surrendering had gained the attention of the Legionaries. These men they were fighting were not nearly as incompetant as those they had faced a year and a half earlier.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Imperial Headquarters, Somewhere in Northford

"We are progressing as expected; the heathens are putting up quite a fight, but should we keep our momentum, we'll be at the gates of North Freetown in three days' time," boomed Legatus Propraetoris Kaeso Alexius, commander of Silvanus' ground forces, smiling slightly.

He’d done his job quite well thus far; a holographic map of the theatre at the center of the table displayed sections where Imperial units had broken through and their current progress on steamrolling the line. This battle would be over by the end of the day at the current rate; armored units would be reaching the lines defending North Freetown the following day if the attack proceeded on schedule.

Silvanus nodded, ”Thank you, Kaeso, and fine work.”

Alexius thanked his superior and sat down, allowing for Silvanus’ airforce commander, Legatus Propraetoris Varus Sidonius, to stand and report on his progress. Producing a remote, the map changed, displaying the entire country. The positions of suspected enemy air formations were displayed in red as well as numbers denoting their estimated strength, as well as the positions of all of their launch sights. The position of Imperial aircraft were lit up in green; symbols denoting type of aircraft formation; moving the mouse over the individual formations brought up data on everything from the weapons loadout to the names of the pilots.

”As you can see, sir, we’ve made quite a nasty dent on their air force. This next sortie should gain us total air superiority, save for whatever air defense systems they have. Those of course can be dealt with as necessary-” Silvanus cut him off,

”And what’s this I’m hearing about downed Sariels?” he growled, visibly irritated.

Sidonius immediately owned up. ”Sir, quite frankly, we fucked up. Their IRST systems took us totally by surprise-“

”Twenty of them, Sidonius. That’s how many you let them shoot down. This is fucking unheard of, an embarrassment to the Imperium and to myself,” he glared at his commander. ”However, I trust that such a mistake will not be repeated,” he calmed down, reclining in his seat. ”Continue.”

Eager to redeem himself, Sidonius began spitting out the numbers of suspected enemy casualties and other statistics, ”And thus far, the Atratus has proven itself to be virtually invulnerable. While a few Aquilae have gone down over enemy territory as a result of enemy air action, they seem to be blindly swinging at the Artrati, clumsily throwing missiles about at anything resembling an aircraft.”

”Good, let’s keep it that way. Very well gentlemen, looks like things are proceeding on schedule. Let’s keep the fuck-ups to a minimum and kill them all in a timely manner.”


Air Battle

The air squadrons began once more to cross into enemy territory. Thus far, the Atratus’ infrared signature was simply not sufficient to give the enemy a firing solution; the enemy’s RADAR, if they had the balls to switch them on, was simply not powerful enough to pick it up from a good distance. Whenever the Kahanistanis had fired missiles off, they had been fired at signatures that simply would not hold as a lock; on top of that, Atratus’ ECM suite was more than enough to deal with incoming missiles, and their choice to operate at altitudes exceeding triple-A coverage had likely staved off disaster. ACID was now going to press its advantage: the fighter force had been rearmed and refueled. They were going to finish what they had started.

Once again supported by Aquilae, the Artrati moved out to hunt the enemy fighters while their escorts suppressed any enemy RADAR sights that activated. Their Sagitta missiles would be launched from their maximum range to ensure that they would go undetected: as a general rule, a total of three missiles were sent downrange per enemy fighter. For every two enemy fighters still alive following that, a single Atratus would move out to hunt them in order to completely destroy the Kahanistani Air Force. Once that objective had been achieved, the Imperial Army wouldn’t have to worry about being bombed; however, Kahanistan’s significant air defense network would still prevent ACID from deploying everything but standoff munitions and severely limit close air support.

With the Northford Line a bit too chewed up to participate in the planned encirclement of the Doomani, Lt. General von Mannhard ordered his surviving forces to fan out somewhat further, rather than lose too many soldiers to one bunker. He wanted to hold the Doomani back as long as possible, to wear them down, and reduce the efficiency of their area-effect weapons such as flamethrowers, grenades and machine guns. However, casualties were mounting as fast as the Kahanistanians could change their tactics...

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the war against Doom,
we washed ourselves in Catholics' blood and all the traitors too,
we're taking down their war machine boom by boom by boom,
the Free Man marches on!

General Yochanan ben Ithamar, commander of the Liberty Line, exhorted his troops for the upcoming struggle. "Today, soldiers of Kahanistan, we fight against the greatest threat to humanity we have ever faced! Greater than Kraven, greater than Automagfreek! We face the imperialist Doomani scourge and their Questarian slave-allies in mortal combat."

"The Doomani want to kill us, the Questarians merely want to take our land. If faced with a choice, always maximise the Doomani casualties, even at the expense of killing Questarians. We are fighting for our lives and our very souls in this battle. If we lose, we will be forced to convert to Catholicism, and our grandchildren will be niggers. Genetically, Doomani are as black as night. They are niggers. And they bring with their evil religion of Satan, anti-Arabism, and anti-Semitism, the savagery and bestial nature of the cannibalistic African negro."

"Defeat is not an option here!" thundered General Ben-Ithamar. "Should we lose, we will face a third Shoah." "Shoah" was the Hebrew name for the Holocaust, literally meaning "disaster." General Ben-Ithamar, however, referred to the Roman genocide in the second century as the first Shoah, and the Nazi genocide as the second. Since in the mind of the average Kahanistanian, Jewish or no, the Doomani were both Romans and Nazis, his speech rang true in the minds of his soldiers.

These troops were a little better equipped than the reservists the Doomani had fought at the Northford Line. Fighters from the Northford Line began their retreat in the face of Doomani firepower, to be joined by GLI-76 and F-2 monkey models being furiously cranked out by Kahanistan's wartime economy in addition to more King Cobra missiles.

OOC:I'll just say it now. That was by far the funniest fucking post you've ever written :P

IC:

Northford Line

Things were scaling down. Only so much force could be effectively applied to the sections of the line still resisting; as a result, the main force continued on towards their objective: North Freetown, leaving one legion, Legio XXIX Mechanica, to finish mopping up their portion of the line. As originally planned, they'd continue fighting until the Northfordians arrived with their massive horde of National Guardsmen to eliminate the final pockets of resistance to allow the mobile Doomani forces to maintain their momentum.

For now, however, the Twenty-Ninth Legion would be locked in battle with the remnants of the Northford Line. The Kahanistanis manning the Northford Line would notice virtually no difference in terms of the strength of the forces attacking them, as they were able to apply the same amount of force before (now in a more effecient manner, now that they were utilizing a smaller force). Overall, the same tactics continued. The thinned out resistance meant that area weaponry wouldn't cause as many casualties; however, it would also result in sectors being cleared more quickly thanks to lack of enemy numbers.

The rest of the army proceeded not towards Mestuza where the Kahanistanis were massing their armies, but to North Freetown, some three hundred kilometers from their current position. The Doomani had assaulted the Northford Line at its northwesternmost segment, and as a result, North Freetown, their originally intended objective, was the closest city. The assault on Mestuza would not commence for some time; at least by the Doomani. The Kriegos and Northfordians would be left to lay siege to the city while the Doomani rolled throughout the country, sacking cities and pillaging the countryside and making a big mess of things in general.

Mobile units would hault some one hundred kilometers from North Freetown's defenses. Two legions were tasked with taking the city itself; the others were relegated to providing security for those two. Imperial commanders were hoping that the Kahanistani Army would attempt to break the siege of North Freetown by commiting to open battle. When that happened, the eight legions in reserve would be free to maneuver and smash whatever was thrown at them.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v383/Doomingsland/Kstani-Theater-Map11.png

HIQMS FUSO
Force F
15th July

Keyes looked nervously over the command screen. More enemy ships were being picked up by the minute. His planning officer, Shiozawa, shook his head.

"I guess we didn't know they had so many fucking ships." Shiozawa blinked and wiped some sweat off his forehead. Damn, it was hot in the command room.

"They're moving east... that's the first stage at least. Withdrawing and regrouping... well, that was expected." Shiozawa continued slowly as he watched over the map.

"No, that was obvious. They've got quite a force arrayed against us here too. When they make their move is up to them. We should let them make the first move at this point.”

“I don’t think we ever had it in the first place.” Shiozawa muttered, keeping his eyes off the screen only to occasionally blink. Keyes leaned over the screen further, studying the animated pixels with his eyes. What are you up to, you bastards…

“Ah, Admiral sah!” Keyes sharply turned around to see an officer waving him over. He trotted over with Shiozawa in tow to the DECOMS (Detection. Command Station) which was a three panel station; one for warning and detection, the other for coordination and the other for response, with three large electronic panels and three ensigns and a commanding officer of the station. Shaking the officers hand, both Keyes and Shiozawa looked over the panels. "Ahead recon picked up enemy attack pattern sir. 'Bout a 'k and a half of missiles plus drones ... there we go." The Officer said as some flashing words and figures on the screen appeared. "EW drones, as we thought. Seems like an opening wave covered by EW..."

Neither senior officer said anything.

"Plus, air-dar just got the drop on incoming aircraft. Nationality unknown."

"Whats the chance of those 'craft being Cravanian?" Shiozawa immediately said.

"Not much. Their carriers have been mauled as you know. They're probably Scandavian or Oceanian."

"Right." Shiozawa said. "Judging from the distance and the number, our best bet is to open up our forward line, destroyers and cruisers. Lets not show them everything yet. Moving up to the board with Keyes behind him, Shiozawa used a stylus to select the anti air squadrons that would open and engage.

"Looks okay." Keyes nodded and Shiozawa ordered the Ensign to punch in the orders.

Half a minute later, six hundred Mogamis and their respective destroyers lit up the RADAR scene like a bulb and shot off their missiles. A mix of half depleted and half full Mogamis with their destroyer escorts managed to down the majority of the Oceanian missiles, losing some of their own ships in the process. The EW birds were countered from the Questarians own electronic ability; four squadrons of command cruisers with significant electronic warfare and linked to large numbers of EW (and radar) drones kept over the fleet up to four hundred klicks out began an intensive mission to defuse the incoming EW aircraft. Electronic warfare, from ships, aircraft, and drones, was crucial to the Questarian fleet defence system.

HIQMS KOMPASU
Force F
418th Naval Fighter Squadron
15th July

The forty aircraft of the 418th were already in the sky as their comrades began to shoot up from the decks of the carrier behind him. Climbing across in a straight line, the calm waters of the Strobovian Straight and the cold metal decks of their aircraft carriers behind them, the 418th were not alone. Hundreds of other air superiority fighters, in their outdated A7H Reppu aircraft, took to the skies. Each one of them knew what they were fighting for: For King and Country, for friends and family, for life and liberty. Some had even been against the war, supportive of NATO nations; that changed yesterday. The horrific Allanean attack on the capital, broadcast live to all crews across the world serving in the Questarian Armed Forces, had steeled the determination of the Questarian military. They now knew that defeat meant subjugation, that should they lose this battle Allanean and Scandavian forces would surely be knocking on the door of London. It was unnaceptable, intolerable. Some of them had lost their homes, their family, everything they had ever had in the London bombing. There would be no quarter and no surrender.

Adding to the combat air patrol, the Questarian fighters in the sky now numbered several thousand. With vastly stronger air-radar capabilities than their opponents who were operating outside their own umbrella, and who were weighed down with anti radiation missiles, they stood a strong chance. [@Oceania: What happens here is dependent on what your attack did. I'm not too sure at what range you attacked: if it was below 400km expect my CAP fighters to have engaged your attack fighters, if it was after 400km then ignore that.]


44th Naval Airdar Squadron
15th July

"I believe that's an incoming bogey sir. And another. And another." The RADAR operator read off, glancing once out the window of the E4A air-radar warning aircraft to see blue sky and white clouds. Shaking his head, he watched as more and more targets popped onto the screen, getting larger by a miniscule degree as his squadron friends picked them up and transferred the data to each other automatically. "Uh huh. Reading sixteen inbounds, they look like..." the RADAR officer reported again, flicking through his identification book frantically.

"I dunno... they don't look like anything we've seen. Maybe they've a light payload... must be Archons... no, wait... yeah, Archons."

"Okay, forward that data to command."

From the distance out they were detected, Shiozawa and Keyes judged that parts of the local CAP in that area was good enough to deal with sixteen aircraft. Forty Questarian planes were quickly vectored in to deal with the UCAVs, with their Airdar (as the Questarians called it) support it was judged not neccessary to light up the fleets RADARs to deal with such an attack.

Most of the Questarian air defence was silent when the Scandavian attack began.

HIQMS FUSO
Force F
15th July

"Holy shit." Shiozawa blinked. The incoming count on the radar screen was jumping into the thousands. "Sixteen k incoming..."

"Jesus Christ. Light up the second line." Keyes ordered, keeping calm. Always keeping calm. THats what they said in the academy... stay calm...

"Er, sir." The RADAR detection ensign muttered, stammering. The massive group of Scandavian missiles moving into range were picked up and spread across the panel, the small map zooming out to fit them all on.

"Fucking hell." Keyes said. "Erm, begin retaliation patterns, light up all our strike cruisers, light up those Mogamis too." He said, shaking, as he dragged the stylus around certain parts of the fleet and 'highlighting' them for launch.

"Sir, something's odd. Our front line units are reporting between 500 and 800% kill rates. Our RADAR estimates on this first wave's strength is... well, shaky. They're stronger or weaker. Something's wrong." The Officer noted.

"Forget the first wave. Concentrate on the second, light up these ships."

The electronic warfare capabilities of the fleet were doing their best to jam the incoming Scandavian missiles and with the sheer amount of power available were doing a good job of it. With such a large amount of missiles, the Mogamis tried a new tactic. In the squadron, two of them shut off their guidance radars and only used datalinks to the squadron leader and its respective airdar and EW birds already in the sky - the massive excess power of the Mogami's RADARs weren't really needed anyway. If one of the ships was lost, another would take over. Shooting missiles into the sky faster than the manual suggested, the air defence of the fleet began to cycle off everything it had. Even so, half a thousand Mogamis lay at the rear of the fleet, their RADAR switched off. Their commanders cursed they couldn't join the fight, but they knew that they had a more important roll to play.

Keyes wiped sweat from his face as he watched the missiles getting ever closer, their numbers thinning. He couldn't hear it, but the noise from the fleet was absolutely stupendous; every gun was firing off into the sky to catch the mass of missiles inbound. He began to slowly mutter the Lords prayer, shaking as he did so. Jesus christ. Then it flashed.

"Its a fucking trap." He said, clicking his fingers.

"What?" Shiozawa blurted out.

"It's a fucking TRAP you moron! Turn off those god damn RADARs!"

"Are you fucking crazy?" Shiozawa retorted. Keyes stepped up to the podium and illustrated. "First they get us to draw out our front line, then they tried to get us to light them up in the south with those planes. Then they made us light up our RADAR to deal with those birds. That first wave was a decoy, they wanted us to light up all our Mogamis. Christ they fucking hate those things."

Shiozawa didn't say anything. "And now, we've lit up a thousand fucking Mogs for them." Keyes continued, kicking the metal walls of the ship. "Fuck! FUCK! Turn off these Mogamis, now!" he said, highlighing the front line who'd almost expended their missiles. Before he could do anything, the ship went dark.

"Fuck! Where's the emergency goddamn power!" Keyes wailed. It was no use.

HIQMS FUSO
Force F
15th July

The power was back online. Keyes wasted no time, he had to know what had happened. To think it was all done in the space of a few minutes... he felt calmer than he thought. After all, you only get one life. Who cares if you mess this one up?

"Cameras." Keyes ordered tiredly. Moments after, the cameras blared to life, some of them still knocked out. Keyes could see the fleet, dark smoke thickening around sunk targets, vessels coming alongside one another picking up survivors. Keyes shook his head. "How many battleships alive?"

"Ourself, the Yamashiro... Ise, Hyuga, Tanizaki and the Kurosawa are able to engage." an Ensign read off the notes. "Plus roughly half of our battleships."

"Enemy losses?"

"Unknown."

"Order the fleet dead ahead. We've still some missiles left?"

"Yes sir."

"And carriers?"

"No idea sir..."

"Order the fleet forward anyway. Raise the battle flags." Keyes coughed.

The Tiger had been bruised and its nose was bleeding. Now it was really pissed off.

North Freetown was one of two major evacuation centres. It was also one of two major supply stations for the Republic Navy, which was holding the shipping lanes open.

The city itself was defended by its activated CIDG forces. While those were not professional soldiers, they tended to fight more ferociously than a soldier whose killer instincts had effectively been trained out of them. (Kahanistanian soldiers generally fought "humanely," avoiding things like flamethrowers or attacks on civilian population centres. No such scruples applied to the CIDG, who were fighting - often literally- for home and hearth.)

There were also surface-to-air missile batteries within the city, concentrated in the industrial areas, where bombing them would lead to minimal civilian casualties and the missiles could provide the greatest protection to the industry that was arming the defenders.

Should the strength of the Doomani prove too much for four hundred thousand militia with body armour, gas masks and battle rifles, they could receive fire support from the Republic Navy, which was now firing long-range rocket-assisted ETC shells at whatever was in range of their guns, ranging from 155 to 640 millimetres, mostly toward the smaller end - heavier rounds had to be saved for protecting the Navy itself.

Kriegorgrad
1001st Naval Bomb Group
14th July

The 1001st was one of four naval bomb groups stationed in Kriegorgrad. Originally it had been set up to train Kriegos pilots but had stayed there as a defensive force, and was bolstered to full strength before the start of the war. They used the massive Candrian B22s, redesignated the J10M in Questarian service which could carry an astonishing 54 AS12A standoff missiles. However, as the missiles could be launched from beyond CAP or SAM range, or even naval detection, there were some flaws: those being, they had to know where the ships where for the inertial guidance to actually work. This is where the humongous amount of Questarian ocean satellites came into play, though it didn’t need many to find the location of the Kahanistani fleet along its relatively small coastline.

So, the radar equipped ocean recce satellite COSMOS.42 blinked once. And again. And again, and made some beeping sounds, with the bombers of the 1001st picked up. Their pilots wouldn’t understand the beeping sound, but their weapon systems certainly did, which is why the 1001st as well as its two sister squadrons launched, at 825 kilometres, a total of 3564 standoff missiles, dropping gracefully from the gigantic bomb bays and letting gravity do its work for just a moment before their ramjet rocket motors began to kick in. Of course, the pattern of the bombers took them out of range of landbased fighters from Kahanistan itself; taking a route out to sea and then turning north to engage the fleet. They were covered by Kriegos aircraft from carriers for most of the journey and in any case were safe from ground based fighters, and considering the Kahanistani western fleet had no carriers to call its own…

The missile attacks would continue until the Kahanistani fleet was destroyed.

---

RKS Heinrich Himmler

Odd name for a Kahanistanian ship, thought Captain Zechariah Stein, the newly minted captain of the Union-class supercarrier. I'd like to shoot whoever's in charge of the ship registry. Captain Stein barely had the time to reflect on the ironic situation before a lieutenant commander ran up to him.

"Captain Stein, Sir! We've just lost six frigates and two destroyers to Questarian munitions. Our SAM's are falling short."

"Deploy the fighters," said Stein. "Commander al-Kibari, take command of the fighter wings. I'll order the SAM batteries to cease fire."

"Yes, Sir! I'll take those bastards down," said Lt. Commander Kibari.

"Good. I'll open a channel to Admiral Jenkins," Stein replied.

---

One hundred and fifty GLI-76 Falcons and fifty F-2 Insurgent fighters tore off of the deck of the massive carrier to engage the Questarian bombers, engaging only the Kriegos fighters that posed a direct threat. Soon, those Kriegos fighters were going to be in deep shit, and so would the Questarians depending on them.

---

RKS Imperator Marum

The massive Royal Sovereign class super dreadnaught containing the Admiral was the main target of the enemy. Luckily for Fleet Admiral Carl Jenkins, there were three of them, and they were extraordinarily hard to sink.

"Admiral," said a young female ensign at the communication centre. "We're getting a hail from Captain... Zechariah Stein of the RKS Heinrich Himmler."

Jenkins spat out his coffee. "The what?"

"The RKS Heinrich Himmler. A Union class carrier."

"I heard what you said," said Jenkins. "Who's naming these damn ships?" he asked as he strode over to the comm.

"Probably someone who wants to refute the Questarian claim that we're Communists and Zionist gangsters (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12731998&postcount=6)," said the ensign matter-of-factly.

"Couldn't they have chosen a less... controversial name? Arafat, for example?"

"We have one. The RKS Yasser Arafat, an Emmanuel Goldstein class heavy battleship."

Well, tickle me pink, Admiral Jenkins growled as he sat down to talk to Captain Stein of the RKS Heinrich Himmler.

"Captain Stein. What can I do for you?"

"Well, you can start by sinking those carriers that supply the Kriegos fighters. Then, the Questarian bombers will drop like flies."

Jenkins radioed the Khan batteries at North Freetown before they could be destroyed by the Doomani. "Give the Kriegos carriers all you've got! Cut off the enemy air attacks, and by God let's give them what-for!"

Within the shipyards, three hundred massive missiles, thrown high into the air by the cold-launch system, rocketed into the atmosphere, and when near their targets (chiefly the enemy carriers, though superdreads were also targeted) they rocketed into their enemies in a frightening array of high-speed metal and powerful explosives.

OOC: Kahanistan, please come on MSN.

IC:

In the meanwhile, the Allaneans were leaving. From the harbors in the South of Kahanistan, nineteen Ouroboros-D aircraft took off, ladened with Kahanistani refugees. They were not allowed to take any personal belongings, and the conditions were less then humane – in fact, they most resembled those on 18th-century slaveships. In such a way, almost five million Kahanistani would be evacuated. But many, many more could not be. If they complied with the orders of Allanean rescue officers, they could – perhaps – survive for the next flight. If they did not...

* * *

“It's my community Torah scroll!” - screamed Rabbi Pinhas, his long beard shaking in the wind as he spoke - “Do you realize how valuable it is? It was written by sofer Aleksis Betzalel, back in the Holy Land before the Doomani conquest! It costs more then your entire house, Nazi!”

“You call me a Nazi?” - screamed the Allanean soldier - “I am a Jew myself! I am here to save your sorry ass, you fool! How many times do we have to shed our blood before you get it that we are on your side, you ingrate? Leave that scroll!”

“No!”- said the Rabbi as he tried to push his way past the soldier. The man pushed back – and then, enraged by the Allanean's rudeness, Rabbi Pinhas hit him on the cheek.

He shouldn't have done that.

The Havenic Export Corporation flamer did its job faithfully, enveloping the old man's clothing in a torrent of flaming napalm. The black outfit of the Orthodox Jew, his prayer shawl and beard soaked the liquid in within half a second. He screamed in terror and pain as he fell to his knees, his black, wide-brimmed hat falling down to the ground as the Rabbi's head tilted backwards in the last paroxysms of suffering.

The other Allaneans gasped as they saw Pinhas breathe his last breath. “Oh God.”

“Don't worry.” - smiled the soldier who killed Rabi Pinhas. “He'll ascend to the Next World. Any Jew who dies protecting a Torah scroll ascends to the Next World.”

* * *

Almost the entire Allanean contingent has been evacuated. The troops were loaded into an Ouroboros cargo plane, their armored vehicles left on the airfield as a last gift to the Kahanistani. The strategic bombers and fighter craft left already.

But just outside the capital, five spacecraft were landing. Those were simple Wellington (http://z13.invisionfree.com/The_NS_Draftroom/index.php?showtopic=117) troops carriers, and each of them carried a hundred troops. Their Minuteman-IV powered armor was deep red – not bright red, like the foul flag of Communism, but the red of falling leaves in Autumn. They carried heavy “Assault” rifles designed specifically for use with the heavy suits – rifles that were more like 'heavy machine guns' then like anything an unaugmented human could carry.

On their forearms, where the Allanean flag should be, was drawn the Star of Feanor. They paced uninhibited through the streets. Anywhere where they encountered opposition, they merely barked: “Fieldmarshal Kazansky's personal Guard! The Field Marshal is with us to see Al-Ghazi for a war council! Show us where he is! Make way, in the name of the Queen!”

General Abdullah Hassan al-Ghazi sat in a dark office in the basement of the Presidential Palace. He did not trust the Presidential Security Detachment and was more than willing to grant their last commander's request to be reassigned to the diplomatic corps.

The office was illuminated only by a lamp and a thirty-watt bulb, by which al-Ghazi pored over a nine-thousand-year-old tablet from Babylon. On either side of his desk were two bookshelves containing ancient texts in dozens of languages, many largely lost to history, and various artifacts, skulls, amulets, et cetera, that the general studied to develop his religious perspective. (Al-Ghazi, born and raised a Sunni Arab, lost his faith in Allah after his defeat by Dreadfire and developed the notion that every religion in history was but one piece to a greater puzzle.)

Colonel Aleister Beckett, the new commander of the Presidential Security Detachment, was surprised to be promoted three ranks. Hell, he was 26 and a Colonel, from his old rank of Captain. His predecessor was 29 and she was only a Lieutenant Colonel, and she was young for her rank.

Probably trying to maintain my trust, thought the young officer. Then again, he still doesn't trust us.

Outside the palace were two Kahanistanian generals, Lieutenant General Kenneth Norton and Major General Ann Farbuson. Surrounding them were various staff officers, discussing the Allaneans.

"Burning a Torah scroll, can you imagine?" said Norton. "I mean, I'm not Jewish, but can you imagine if they were burning non-Doomani Bibles, or Korans, or the Talmud?"

"That's not the worst of it," said Farbuson. "Idiots, the lot of them. 'Course, al-Ghazi's no angel himself, he needs to go somehow. Someone who's sane... like General Rakhmadi, but who doesn't hate Catholics."

"I'm Catholic myself," said Lt. General Norton. "Catholics aren't the problem, it's extremists. Just like suicide bombers aren't representative of all Muslims, the Doomani don't represent our religion. 'Course, those people posting handbills claiming that Catholics use the blood of Jewish children in Communion wine aren't helping. I wish we could ban them, but freedom of speech, you know? Oh, there're the Allanean bastards right now. Karina?"

He gestured to an aide, a female officer with Spock ears, which also looked sort of like elven ears. "Karina, bend over and strip naked." He pulled out a black marker.

Lt. Colonel Karina Sokolova stripped her uniform off without a thought. If the Allaneans could have a nudist admiral, the Kahanistanians could have officers who were relaxed about nudity as well. After Norton had inked up the young woman's body to resemble an elf, he unzipped his fly and began to do what it was gossiped Kazansky fantasised nightly about doing to Miriel.

As she moaned from the experienced man's activity, Norton waved to the Allaneans. "Hey, I'm plowing Miriel like a little bitch!" he bellowed. "Like the bitch who betrayed us because of some nutter for a stupid accident!"

The woman moaned harder as the Kahanistanian general smacked her and generally played rough with her. "Yeah, I'm punishing this little whore, good! Just like we'll do to Maximus' mom in Heaven... oops, I forgot, she's in Hell!"

Lt. General Norton looked at the Allaneans with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Kazansky walked into the Presidential Palace first, wearing a dark cloak over his Field-Marshal's parade uniform. The hood covered most of his face. Behind him paced a row of men in heavy suits, their 12.7mm automatic rifles at the ready. Some of the troops remained behind for security, others followed downwards – down into the basement where Al-Ghazi was. There was not a chance the Kahanistani could resist the heavy 750-kilogram battlesuits. The plan was simple – have one of the suited men kick the door, grab Al-Ghazi over his shoulder, and carry him out as a small baby. This was done. There was only a small hitch.

Lt. General Norton was the hitch.

For a few seconds Kazansky just stood there, looking at the Kahanistani, trying to digest what was going on. Then, in a single flashing motion, he put his hand on the Sword of the Queen that was his badge of office, hanging in a scabbard behind his back. It had been tempered in the blood of Atopian fascists and Iragian communists when it was made, on a battlefield strewn with dead bodies stretching to the very horizon. Now, it would taste blood again.

Without a single delay, the Field Marshal of Allanea ripped the sword out of its scabbard, ripping the 'peace bindings' apart as if they were paper. Norton's head was sliced apart, blood, cranial fluids, and brain splattering over Karina's body and Kazansky's fresh uniform.

He kicked Karina in the face, hard, her teeth cracking under his commando boot. Her naked body was tossed back, exposing her neck to another swordblow. Blood fountained out of Karina's neck as she fell, soaking the Field-Marshal's clothing.

Alexander breathed in deep and shouted, the hot, dry Kahanistani air rasping against his throat:

“They insulted our Queen's Honor! No survivors! No survivors! Activate Order sixty-six!”

Even as he said it, his order was retransmitted through the radios of all the Allanean soldiers. They moved to block the exits from the Palace, firing their immense rifles at everybody that tried to escape. Some would certainly make it out – but many would die, slaughtered either by the soldiers without or the Fielmarshal within.

* * *

“Here they go!” - shouted an Allanean soldier as he saw Al-Ghazi being carried out of the Palace, kicking pointlessly against the powered armor - “Now look!” - several Presidential Security personnel darted out of the door, trying to run for it.

The Allanean soldiers raised their rifles to their shoulders.

“Fire at will!”

The 12.7mm softpoint ammunition tore giant holes in the bodies of the Kahanistani, holes big enough you could put a hand through them. The stairs of the Palace were littered with the dead and dying, but some still managed to escape. The Allaneans knew better then to pursue.

Sometimes, an anguished figure of a Kahanistani would be seen through one of the windows. The Allaneans then swung and fired their rifles at him.

* * *

Kazansky shoved a pistol into Farbuson's left eye and pulled the trigger.

At this range, an obvious thing happened. Not only did the .50 AE hollowpoint rip through the man's skull and go out of the other side, taking the brain along for a trip, but the gunpowder exhaust went straight into the Kahanistani's skull. The pressure was such that Farbuson's right eye was literally blown out of his socket.

It was spectacular.

But Kazansky was not done yet. He turned around, emptying his gun's magazine into a bespectacled Khanistani aide. He fought on, pistol and sword. Most of the men and women around him were mere clerks or staff officers. They could not resist him. Not now, when he was a living machine of fury.

He rolled a thermite grenade into a room full of logistics officers and laughed as they rolled on the floor, screaming in pain, their flesh burning. He killed a cleaning maid with her own broom. He killed, and killed, and killed more. He drove the fearful clerks, servants, bureaucrats out into the open, where the ceaseless clatter of Allanean rifles greeted them in their last seconds.

* * *

Now, the stairs in front of the Palace resembled the famous Odessa staircase, lacking only a baby cart to make the resemblance complete. They were strewn with corpses and red with blood.

And then the doors opened for one last time, and a frightened clerk scurried out. He kneeled in horror in front of the Allanean guns, raising his hands towards the Allaneans in vain supplication for mercy.

He did not hear Kazansky step out into the light behind him. His cloak and uniform were soaked with blood, his glasses were splattered with it. In one hand, he dragged the heads of Karina, Farbuson and Norton by their hair. In the other he carried his sword.

It glittered in the sun as it rose and fell one last time, cleaving the Kahanistani head to groin. The troops cheered at this display of Kazansky's strength. He breathed in again, like a predatory animal about to roar angrily – and then he screamed, a long scream of anger and frustration that there was nobody left in the building to kill. Killing at least five dozens of Kahanistani in person and letting his troops kill many more did not even begin to sate his anger.

Then, he spoke calmly.

“Very good, men. Let's set fire to this place and go. We are done.”

And so the men pelted the building with thermobaric grenades - each sufficient to flatten a small appartment building - and left.

General al-Ghazi bellowed his outrage as the bloodied Allanean carried his 95-kilogram mass out of his office, knocking over a glass jar with a large, shriveled piece of meat in it preserved in formaldehyde. This was, although the Allanean wouldn't know it at first, al-Ghazi's penis. It had been cut off in a battle with Wahhabi extremists more than twenty years ago, a shame that al-Ghazi wanted to conceal so badly that he divorced his second wife rather than allow her to see him without his manly tool.

Well, they'd at least know why he was so insane, or at least where his issues lay - and they'd also know why he was investing in such huge pieces of artillery, and trying to design a supercapital.

His rage only grew the more immense when he saw the bloodied bodies of numerous generals, as well as non-combat soldiers. He was so angry, and in such despair, he could not even speak coherently, bellowing like a wounded elephant his fury at the Allanean betrayal.

Millingston International Airport, Carpanthium, Cravanian Overseas Territtories, July 16

The Northfordian attack against the territory's airstrips and airfield had delayed oonly slightly delayed the airlift operations being undertaken by the Aequatian Republic Air Force, their aircraft waiting their redeployment from San Nereiana on the tarmac as the engineers worked alongside their Cravanian counterparts as they made the necessary repairs of bolting down sheets of steel to keep the runways open for business as the airlift continued. The next shipments included something which was seen as a necessity for the defenders' collective effort, a number of MIM-120K Starbuck radar-guided surface-to-air missiles for theatre air defence against any air or cruise missile attack. Also included among the munitions were additional GATOR II MDS weapons, many of which included provisions for deployment from 155mm artillery pieces, of which they were readily available as the Aequatian and Cravanian standard.

The Air Force logisticians worked to unload and distribute the newly arrived supplies as more aircraft made their way into the Carpanthium airspace, including those carrying the 5th Special Forces Group (Airborne) and their equipment. The large C-181A Starlifter IIs had certainly become an icon in Carpanthium and at home as well, images on the television news touted the aircraft and other strategic airlifters like it as one of the winning combinations for NATO and the war. It was the Starlifter IIs and the even larger Cossacks which were helping sustain the Aequatian effort in Haven, both in Carpanthium and on Cherry Island.

The soldiers of the 5th SFGA were different in their mannerisms and appearance compared to the other Aequatian soldiers and marines on the ground, they wore the MCU utilities with a number of customized webbing kits and other commerical items, such as rucksacks and weapon sights. Among the groups of soldiers stepping off the arrived C-767A aircraft was Captain Rainer Schmidt, the commanding officer of Echo Company's Operational Detachment, Bravo or 'B-Team' which provides support to the combat Alpha Teams. He walked alongside his team's second-in-command, Chief Warrant Officer Lukas Grün, the team's most senior non-commissioned officer, they crossed the tarmac to the waiting M939A5 5-ton trucks and HMMWVs.

Behind them was the remaining members of the team as they walked with their packs and kit, although one young man stood out from the other special forces soldiers, it was the officer-in-training attached to every Bravo Team on deployment, the young second lieutenant was freshly graduated from the Camp Stirling Special Operations Training Centre in Attica and had only been with the team for two weeks before the deployment and had become the source of many jokes for the senior enlisted members. As the team walked he asked Staff Sergeant Ian Kohn, "Sarnt, what do you think they have us here for exactly?"

"We're not here to sample the local pussy," He replied with a grin, "That's for sure."

The joke brought laughter from the others as Air Force Technical Sergeant Roland Nast, the team's Terminal Attack Controller, spoke, "Shit, we've been away from home for only a day and I miss Aequatian pussy." The roars of laughter grew as the young lieutenant blushed and they continued on towards the waiting trucks.

The three battalions of special forces troopers embarked onto the M939A5 trucks before heading south to the Carpanthium mountains, where they would be setting up camp and staying until their operations began. Upon arrival, the officers in command were summoned to meet with their Cravanian counterparts at Point Charlie to discuss the future operations.

----------

As the Aequatian Republic Land Forces continued in their work alongside their allied NATO forces, Air Force special purpose aircraft prepared themselves over Carpanthium as they initiated their duties as part of Operation: Haven Sentry. The first being the EC-130Q Commando Solo III psychological operations aircraft, manned with a number of specialists and radio transmission equipment, the Commando Solo III aircraft began by broadcasting the radio station "Radio Free Carpanthium/Northford" over both Carpanthium and the sectors of Northford in the immediate theatre of operations. The station provided its listeners on the Carpanthium side advice on tolerating the temporary presence of the Aequatian and allied forces in-theatre and that all NATO forces were there for their protection against Northfordian aggression fueled by their leader, James Tricker, and Questarian King Alexander Beaufort II. The Northfordian channel played messages directed towards both the Northfordian and Commonwealth soldiers stationed there of the lies they had been told by their leaders and of the treachery their people have suffered at the hands of the Alexander II, the Questarians and the rest of the Commonwealth.

A calm woman's voice in a Carpanthian accent begins to speak...

It has been the deeds of your leader, James Tricker, and Questarian King Alexander Beaufort the Second that has brought you to war with your brothers and sisters in Carpanthium. You have been fooled by the treachery of the Questarians and their Commonwealth and fallen in line with their interests, not your own. There is no reason for you take up arms against your own comrades, it is for Alexander the Second only that you are at war with NATO. Stop and ask yourself if you feel that what you are doing is proper and just, do not continue fighting your brothers and sisters and if the Commonwealth truly believes that this conflict is worth fighting, refuse to fight and demand that the Azahan conscript forces are put up against the border.

The EC-130Q aircraft continued to broadcast their messages over the border into Northford while the larger E-14A Capricorn aircraft amplified the transmissions to reach deeper into Northford and reach the civilian centres and those who were detached from the border zone with Carpanthium.

As the special purpose aircraft continued their duties, a number of Aequatian Air Force F/A-39A Enforcer strike fighters lifted off the tarmac at their base outside Millingston as they carried a number of AGM-154D Special Purpose Stand-Off Weapons. The squadrons of aircraft flew at low altitude, to best hide their signatures from detection, before releasing the weapons on their flight paths across the border over the zones where the Northfordian front-line of battle was located. However, instead of releasing cluster munitions or striking withfuel-air explosive warheads, the dispensers deployed clusters of leaflets as their fluttered and rained down over the positions of the soldiers on the ground.

The designs varied, many of them showing Northfordian soldiers on the Carpanthian side of the border being killed in terrible fashions, they described the physiological effects of different NATO weapons against the human body and the pain one would suffer on the receiving end of the weapons. One of the more common leaflets were printed with the following message:

The image depicted is of soldiers wearing the Northfordian flag on their uniforms sitting, eating and relaxing with a smiling Cravanian soldier standing with them.

SAFE CONDUCT PASS

The bearer of this card is permitted to cross to the NATO Forces and receive good treatment, so that he reaches the nearest NATO Forces headquarters in complete safety. This invitation is open to all brother Northfordian soldiers to join the NATO Forces where he will be welcomed and treated respectfully according to the Geneva Convention.

Soldiers of Northford!

You are invited to join the NATO Forces and enjoy full Carpanthian hospitality, security, safety and medical care. You will be returned to your homes as soon as the situation Tricker and Alexander II has placed us in has ended. My brother Northfordian soldier, this invitation is open to you and your comrade soldiers. We hope that you will accept this invitation as soon as you have the opportunity.

Commander, NATO Forces and Carpanthium Theater of Operations.

There is an image of the same soldiers with the Northfordian flag on their uniforms with their hands in the air approaching the same Cravanian soldier with his arms reaching towards them.

SAFE CONDUCT PASS

The bearer of this card is permitted to cross to the NATO Forces and receive good treatment, so that he reaches the nearest NATO Forces headquarters in complete safety. This invitation is open to all brother Northfordian soldiers to join the NATO Forces where he will be welcomed and treated respectfully according to the Geneva Convention.

If you want to save yourself comply with the following:

Remove the magazine from your weapon.
Carry the weapon upon your left shoulder, pointing the muzzle downward.
To assure us of your sincere desire to save yourself, please place both hands above your head.
When approaching our location, do so slowly, any person ahead of the group raises this leaflet above his head.
This will affirm your desire for safety. Hello and Welcome.


----------

Drop Zone: Black, "Cherry Island," Southeast Haven, July 16

The third day of operations began on a celebratory note when the order was given to be rid of the Field Protective Suits, although the brigade was to maintain MOPP readiness by keeping their M93A2 masks on their persons in their haversacks. RSM Rottman walked about the battalion's position as the troops put away the chemical suits and returned to their fighting positions now in their full battle kit. Although not on the line, Captian Novoselic and his Pathfinders were now helping in a number of methods, including the administrative workload or helping to keep the battalion's soldiers occupied when they were not on the line. They ran a number of drills for different skills, including hand-to-hand combat, rangefinding, survival, evasion, resistance and escape tactics and a number of items for fieldcraft. The special forces troopers passed on their invaluable skills onto the younger soldiers.

The positive mood was continued as Lieutenant-Colonel Jones watched as the engineers finished their work on the airstrip, just as their comrades did at the other three landing zones, and within an hour, had accepted the first, landed C-181A Starlifter II transport. The airlifters landed and disgorged supplies required for the sustainment of the operation on the ground while another landing was made by pilots not of the Air Force, but the Marine Corps. A-16A Invader short take-off and landing attack aircraft landed in their squadrons alongside transports with weapons and ground support crews as they prepared for their own roles in Haven Express. The aircraft were ugly by the usual Air Force standards, but the Marines who flew them swore by the design as one of the best for attacking any surface target, on land or at sea. It would by only a matter of time before their potential would be witnessed by the enemy.

"They've launched their bombers, sir." Air Colonel Varoshi stood at a rigid attention before Kordiyeh's desk. Three Wainrider squadrons have been sent to intercept.

Kordiyeh nods and drops the situation map on his desk with a sigh. "Time for Phase II." He nods simply at Varoshi and the two men exchange a salute. As the Air Colonel hurries out of the room, Kordiyeh leans back in his chair and raises a teacup to his lips. Outside he can see the lingering streaks from their ongoing missile launches, hoping there's an effective explosion on the other end of them.

He stands slowly as another salvo is launched, and can feel the rumble of firing torpedo tubes as his own Florentine class command cruiser contributed with its modest broadside of three heavy torpedo tubes. He knew that in the following minutes the Fourth would shift its focus to Questarian airfields on the ground in Ceylon.

Suddenly a light in his eyepiece flickers on, and the image of an unfamiliar Sky Captain floods his vision. "Air Marshal Kordiyeh!" the man begins excitedly. "The Third and Fourth Kinetic detachments have fired on the targets designated to us by Colonel Varoshi. Ceylon's airfields are now under full assault."

Startled by his subordinates' speed, Kordiyeh raises his brows and laughs a little bit. "Excellent," he retorts simply, finishing the last of his tea before he continues. "Verify secondary targets for the next launch... standby for a sat readout on remaining targets."

"Yes, sir," comes the answer, from clear back in Arda. "Will reestablish contact after the first salvo has connected. Over and out." Kordiyeh terminates the transmission by pressing a small remote built into his right glove. With a glance to his command platform, Kordiyeh cycles through the appropriate communications channels and eventually settles on one. Forcing open the signal, his visage appears in the eyepiece of his Florentine Commander much as the Ardan Sky Captain had done to Kordiyeh a moment before.

"Yes sir?" Comes the dutiful and inevitable question.

"Damage report," grunts Kordiyeh simply, selecting a group of docked fighters on his command platform and ordering them to launch.

"Sustaining a missile strike on fleet carriers as we speak. Estimated inbound munitions in the ballpark of 400 units; a bit less perhaps."

"What strikes?" Kordiyeh can estimate the toll with a glance to his command platfrom, but he wanted the nitty-gritty, and it was faster to get it from the bridge, which had better data. Like most of the other Air Marshals, Kordiyeh preferred to conduct the battle from the bridge of a Florentine rather than in its belly, but he had a few orders to issue before he could make the trip up there.

"As predicted, the Hithlum is their most productive target," answers the Captain sharply. "She's still operational but engineering crews are reporting moderate drive damage and her upper disc took an opportune blow to its rotator. Until we get it fixed, the Hithlum cannot move its disc."

Already reacting to the news, Kordiyeh highlights a detachment of flak frigates and sends them over. His brow furrows and he rechecks his figures. "Shit," he remarks into his communicator. "It looks like they clipped several flak frigates that got in the way. Even took a handful down."

The Florentine Captain punches up something on his terminal and makes the necessary notations. "Yes sir we have six flak frigates down outright and another ten sustaining damage ranging from moderate to severe. Units A4-4118 and A4-2213 can barely move. A4-1812 has sustained drive damage and is sinking, but she's still operational. A total of 13 ships have been destroyed outright or otherwise incapacitated."

Kordiyeh pinches the bridge of his nose and opens up a second communications link with Colonel Varoshi. "Cover the Hithlum with the units I've indicated," the Air Marshal commands before Varoshi can speak. "Detach six squadrons of Wainriders and begin strafing the island. I'll be at the bridge momentarily, but I want them on their way before I get there. Make it happen, Colonel."

"It shall be done, sir."

Swiftly the Air Marshal terminates his links and departs for the bridge as soon as he puts a hand on his coat. Elsewhere in the fleet, Captains busied themselves reacting to the enemy's opening salvo whilst waiting to hear from their Air Marshal regarding the timing of their upcoming assault. Some ships might break formation or otherwise change their pace at the Air Marshal's command, and every crew had been briefed in the event of a variety of differing circumstances. Still, the basic needs of the assault could be met in the meantime: the carriers continued their ascent, hoping to exceed the Questarian missile ceiling. Kordiyeh and his Captains knew that as long as their drives remained operational, they could go as high as they wanted: it was only a matter of time before the carriers could launch their fighters unmolested. The pressing concern for the Ardans was minimizing their losses until this could be acheived. It was obvious that Arda was wildly outnumbered in terms of fightercraft, but Kordiyeah was confident that the overall superiority of his craft would win out.

Behind the 4th Fleet, the Pax Imperica 7th Army was closing rapidly on Ceylon. While the fleet had slowed as they approached, the Pax transports picked up speed rapidly, acheiving the pace necessary to arrive at the island very shortly after Kordiyeh's Fourth. Pax commanders hoped this sudden mismatch in pace would throw the defenders in a panic; as they would find a ground campaign thrust upon them much sooner than anticipated. The Drogues and Wolverines could also offer short-range artillery and small arms support when they arrived, and were designed by and large to fight alongside the fleet as the Pax soldiers disembarked and carried out their assaults.

The war was coming to Ceylon. As soon as the 7th Army made its overtures, Sudani and his subordinates prepared to roll out the Pax 3rd over Allanea. Arda, it seemed, was planning to strike Ceylon and the Allanean corridor in brutal tandem.

North Freetown, Kahanistan

A 155mm artillery shell exploded some one hundred yards to the rear of the mechanized trenturia, sending a torrent of rubble shooting into the air. Razor sharp shrapnel pinged off of the door of Trenturion Marcus Spurius' armored personnel carrier. The vehicle jolted up and down as it plowed over a sizable crater. Glancing at his personal viewer, Marcus saw that his unit had arrived at their destination.

Gripping his DR-83M tensely, he talked into his microphone,

"We've arrived at waypoint zulu; everyone disembark and assume defensive positions."

Hydraulics crooned as the ramp of the Testudo-U slid open, spilling its cargo of nine infantrymen out into the desolate wasteland that categorized the outskirts of North Freetown. It was pockmarked by shell craters; this had probably been, at one point, suburbs, although any hint of life had been erased by the artillery duels that had thus far categorized combat around North Freetown.

The somewhat bulky, armored Legionaries spread out amongst the area, taking up positions along the crest of the piece of elevated terrain they'd occupied. They moved like wolves, swiftly bolting to cover and scanning the area for any signs of enemy activity, their combination of visors and rebreathers giving their faces an almost skull-like appearence with a Roman-esque flair borrowed from the helmet. There was none, as expected. They'd haulted roughly a mile from the enemy's front line, leaving a good sixteen hundred meters' worth of no-man's land between themselves and the CIDGs, who were now under fierce bombardment from Legio XIL's sixteen-inch siege guns.

Of course, there was no clear line of fire from where they were to the enemy's line; this would allow for them to entrench without having to worry about dealing with point targets. Silvanus had decided, due to what he saw as a failure on the part of the Lucinian Crusader Air Arm to totally raze North Freetown, to resort to siege tactics. He would have to destroy the city on his own utilizing his own artillery and ACID support.

How long until the K'stani artillery had them zeroed in was another story. Despite the grumblings of officers that this strategy would quite possibly result in heavy casualties- casualties that they could not afford- among the Doomani, they carried out their orders to the letter. Many believed that a far more sensible route would have been to simply assault the defenses directly in order to minimize the effectiveness of the enemy artillery; however, from what Silvanus had seen, the Kahanistanis were fully capable of and willing to put fire on their own men in order to inflict casualties on his forces. Better to at least allow his men the chance to dig in rather than charge them into a line and force them to deal with the enemy in front of them and shells dropping down on top of them at the same time.

It did not take long for Spurius' infantry- some thirty-six total- to get into position, finding cozy little craters to take cover in and further modify to suit their needs when they were safe to do so. His four Testudo-U infantry fighting vehicles took up positions along his AOR behind the infantry with a superb line of fire into the terrain ahead. In addition, he had a pair of CMPLs equipped with 15.7mm heavy machineguns which had carried his four Minotaurus powered infantry armors into battle (those had been deployed as one would deploy one's crew-served weapons; the only difference was that there was a single man operating a grenade machinegun or general purpose machinegun as opposed to two, and he was well-protected against enemy small arms fire).

"Check in," crackled a voice in Spurius' ear. It was his centurion, Varus Quintonus.

"First Trenturia is in position and awaiting orders," he responded immediately, still scanning downrange for any hostile movement. Out in the distance, he could see the silouettes of captured Lucinian pilots hanging on
Stars of David, crescents, and upside down crosses.

He was going to show no mercy to any Kahanistani he captured; in fact, he'd probably replace the Lucinians nailed to the frameworks with any prisoners he took if only to add insult to injury.

He stood up in his crater, running down the line to check with all of his squad leaders to make sure they were in position. They'd done as they were supposed to; already some of the men had their spades out, digging in shifts in order to get themselves nice and firmly entrenched. Already the century's mortar section was in place; if all hell were to break loose, they'd be able to get some fire support in nice and quick, although there was also a pair of Corvus gunships on station in the event of an enemy assault.

All along the line this same scene played out: Silvanus was moving his pieces into play. He was about to force his foe to make a decision: with the thirty-ninth putting the full force of their ultra-heavy artillery into the outer defenses of the city, the Kahanistanis would have to react in some way. Just sitting there would be nothing short of suicide, and with Legio XIIL's relatively small numbers in comparison to the defending force, their siegeworks that they were attempting to establish would make an extremely appeasing target.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

West of Kahanistan

A single twelve-aircraft flight had been tasked with interdicting Kahanistani shipping operations; while the Republic Navy may have been keeping the lanes open out of North Freetown, that did not prevent nor discourage Sariel flights out of Northford from operating against them. It was not so much a military objective as much as a political or ideological one; that is, the erradication of the Kahanistani as a people. That would call for killing all of them, including the ones attempting to escape.

Maximus had made the mistake of allowing them to escape once; he would not repeat it. Each was equipped with a pair of rotary launchers for a total of twenty-four Bireme-ER anti-shipping missiles per aircraft; a pretty good amount considering their targets. However, knowing the Kahanistanis, the ships would be well protected by Republic Navy vessels, which would mean missile defenses. For all they knew, the Kahanistanis equipped their merchantmen with CIWS and RAM. With all enemy air power in the area neutralized or distracted, the Sariels would have literally nothing to challenge them.

They would approach at extremely low altitude, releasing their missiles from a standoff range of one hundred-fifty nautical miles. The stealthy airframes woud almost certainly go undetected considering their range and altitude, and would RTB as soon as they had expended the last of their missiles. However, they would unleash their payload as directed; the operation was being directed from an ACID command center in Northford, where the mission's commander could tap into every available intellegence resource and direct his flight to every enemy convoy in range and ensure that they all recieved their fair share of supersonic, sea-skimming anti-shipping missiles.

The missiles themselves had an initial subsonic cruise faze that would allow for a stealthier approach (in all likelihood, the size of their frames, relatively low heat signature, and sheer distance would prevent their detection). At some fifty miles, they would fire up their rocket engines and accelerate to speeds exceeding mach three, climbing above sea skimming range for the time being to allow for them to close the gap in a matter of roughly a minute and thirty seconds, giving very little reaction time. And of course, detection wouldn't be instantaneous, so they'd have even less time to react. Continuing on its course, the missile would slow to mach two point five and dip down to sea-skimming level on its final ten mile approach before finally executing a terminal pop-up maneuver, driving its warhead into the deck of the unfortunate vessel.

A similar raid, comprising of some twenty-four bombers, was initiated against the Republic Navy vessels stationed at North Freetown utilizing the same pattern missile; twenty-four per bomber, making for a grand total of five-hundred seventy-six anti-shipping missiles headed towards what remained of the once proud Republic Navy.

In the meanwhile, the Ouroboros aircraft returned again. The pilots – and several dozens accompanying infantry – worked as hard as possible, to shove as many people as they could into the planes while avoiding stampedes. They likely would have to shoot some of the locals to keep order – but such were the times. When the Ouroborii would leave by evening, they would take five million more refugees with them.

And, from Kaparangos – a small fishing port in southern San-Nereiana – dozens and dozens of huge container ships, mysteriously empty, would begin to leave for Kahanistan.

North Freetown

Major General Muhammad bin Hamed al-Assad, the commander of the 22nd Infantry Division defending the city, knew that the Doomani would destroy the city. They had to - it was a major supply point to the navy, it was a fortified position on the path to Metzuda, and it was a stopping point for fleeing civilians. On top of that, there were also Crusaders nailed to Jewish and Muslim religious symbols. In short, it was home to the worst form of infidel.

General al-Assad was fully prepared to die in the defence of his people. He was prepared to die in battle against the Doomani, and he was certainly well aware that he might be nailed to one of his crescent moons, as he himself had done to dozens of Catholic Nazi demons who had come from he dared not guess what pits of Jahannam, Islam's Hell.

The general held his Hali-53 across his chest. "Brethren. Muslimeen, Yahudin... Masihiyun... ("Muslims, Jews... Christians...") we are gathered here today, to fight to the death. Not so much for our own lives, valuable as they may be... not to die at the hands of the Doomani, though that too is likely... but we fight this battle that our people, our culture, our society... will live on!"

Putting the strap over his shoulder, the general unsheathed his sword, a Mameluke blade like that of the US Marines. Curved like the Arabian sword it was modeled from, the steel blade shone in the sunlight.

"This day, we fight to protect our people! Once the last civilian has boarded, then and only then do we flee!"

Meanwhile, Colonel Avraham Eleazar ben Shaul, in command of the 318th Rocket Artillery Regiment defending the city, received word from his intelligence officer that the Doomani were planning to level the city.

Well, no shit. The colonel knew he would have to stop that artillery from pounding the city if many civilians were to stay alive long enough to get on the boats. That artillery had flattened whole bunkers before.

The infantry could certainly charge in and wipe out the guns... but that would leave the city itself open to a flanking maneuver if the Doomani could avoid the ground charge. Aerial bombardment would be nice, but the Air Force was too busy staying alive to be of much help here, and the best bombers had either been lost in action or were still participating in the bombing of Northford... those that had gotten there, that is.

In the end, the commander decided to use what few surface-to-air missiles he had left on the enemy planes, relying on rocket artillery barrages to hit the enemy artillery. He figured with such a tempting target just out in the open, it had to be a trap of some sort. With chemical ordnance having little effect on the Doomani, he decided to resort to incendiaries to remove the oxygen and cook his enemies alive in much the way heretics were burned in medieval times, and anti-armour rockets to blow their foes up in their CMPL's and artillery vehicles. Of course, there were also the occasional FASCAM's, but they were but a small part of the total artillery, intended only to delay any demining operation the Doomani would undertake.

That should keep the evacuation going... at least a little longer.

---

RKS Yasser Arafat

The powerful Emmanuel Goldstein-class heavy battleship was one of those delegated to protecting fleeing civilian ships, its missile contingent and arms dedicated exclusively to defence, rather than engaging enemy shipping that was not a direct threat to it.

Captain Khalid al-Waziri looked on in horror as a hospital ship, one of the Hobbes class built and shipped by Isselmere-Nieland, exploded, the victim of over a dozen Doomani missiles.

"Khara!" roared the Captain, using the Arabic word for shit. "Dammit, try and get us a lock on those damned bombers! They just blew a hospital ship out of the water, get us something to shoot back with! I don't care, radar, lidar, whatever you can get a lock with!"

"Yes, Sir!" said the First Officer, a young woman who had been made a commander when most of the crew of her previous ship had been killed. "Missile crews, we're looking for Sariels and Atratuses. Sneaky little fish niggers." ("Fish ******" was a derogatory Kahanistanian term for a Doomani, referring to the stereotypical Catholic eating fish on Fridays, and the fact that Doomies lived in the desert - desert life tends to darken the skin.)

"Commander Wilkinson. Our RADAR is offline."

"Dammit! Run an IRST search and get us a lock, we need to blast those bastards back to Doomingsland before they kill us all!" the First Officer screamed through a radio.

"Yes, ma'am." The heavy battleship began to hunt for the enemy, losing two more hospital ships and several dozen escaping transports of various description. All in all, nearly half of the hospital ships had been sunk, and over 80 warships.

However, the transports were not defenceless; they did carry every piece of CIWS and SAM the Navy could spare without compromising their own ability to defend the shipping lanes until all had either fled or died.

The ships guarding the city itself, on the other hand, were better defended, and only protected those civilian ships that had not left their missile range. Many were too close to shore to be sunk; these would have to be destroyed or exhaust their weapons before they would cease to fire on the Doomani planes that they could detect, whether by sensor or calculating the trajectory of enemy missiles for a range; the carrier support was too far out to sea, having non-Doomani foes to protect against.

OOC:Kstan, how many days you think we been fighting? I'm thinking 2-3 since my initial assault sounds like a decent number.

North Freetown, Kahanistan

"Right on time! Incoming counter-battery fire!" yelled Prefect Aemilius Argentus over the radio to his commander, Legatus Legionis P. Cassius Varinius, general of the Thirty-Ninth Siege Legion.

"You know the drill, take their rockets out. And pray our defenses hold against the inbounds...no fucking way those Stormhammers are gonna be able to get out of there," he growled soberly.

He'd known that by commencing fire on the enemy's defensive line, he would have forced their counter-battery weapons to return fire. He was now extremely nervous in regards to the survival of his massive 16" Stormhammer siege guns: they were so big that the enemy artillery crews would have to be completely incompetant in order to miss, and with the sheer number of enemy rockets inbound, heavy damage to his offensive capability was assured.

Luckily, his units did have something of a defense versus MLRS systems: assigned to every Stormhammer were two CMPLs equipped with anti-missile systems consisting of massive turreted banks of interceptor munitions mounted to the bed of the vehicles, each vehicle packing upwards of five-hundred individual interceptors. Of course, these were very small munitions: nothing short of a direct hit would result in the neutralization of an incoming rocket. Their guidance and limited maneuverability would make things a little easier as would their sheer number: however, the Kahanistanis had a very good deal of ordnance headed towards their Doomani targets. At the end of the day, people were going to die.

Data flew wirelessly to the defensive vehicles on station; their turrets automatically rotated in the correct direction, elevating their banks skywards. There were a loud series of rapid popping sounds as they began to spit out their interceptor munitions at a ferocious rate, their tiny rocket motors accelerating them to high velocities in a matter of milliseconds. Hundreds of tiny explosions and a few large explosions could be seen in the skies above; less than a split second later, the ground errupted in flame as some of the missiles slipped through, thermobaric rounds tossing the defending CMPLs around like ragdolls, the anti-armor rounds smashing into the massive Stormhammer guns and blowing large holes in them. In the worst cases, the ammunition tracks were hit by armor piercing rounds, causing massive explosions as they set off hundreds of 16" artillery shells and generally making a huge mess of things.

When the smoke cleared, there were only around ninety Stormhammer batteries fully intact and ready to go. A little over two hundred of the batteries were total losses, with the guns themselves being destroyed along with the ammunition tracks. The remaining three hundred or so were out of action for the moment but salvagable: ammunition vehicles had been destroyed, their escorts blown apart, even the engine and crew section of the Stormhammer completely destroyed, leaving only the gun itself intact. For some of the guns, it would be days, even weeks before they could fire again; for others with more minor damage, it was only an issue of some field modification and getting an ammunition track up their with fresh rounds in order to get them going within a few hours.

However, al-Assad had accomplished his objective. He'd bought precious time for the evacuation efforts: the offensive capability of Legio XIL had been severed marginalized with over eighty percent of their Stormhammers now incapable of firing.

The Thirty-Eighth Legion, responsible for the actual maintaining of the siege works, were extremely relieved. They'd managed to avoid the looming axe of Kahanistani artillery for the moment, allowing for them to continue to dig in uninterrupted. Its commander, Legatus Legionis C. Lucius Otho, could do nothing but have his men fortify as best they could. With only twenty-thousand men under his command against a Kahanistani force rumored to number around four-hundred thousand, he certainly had his work cut out for him. Varinius' artillery had no doubt made a severe impact on North Freetown's garrison, but Otho was 99% certain that he was still outnumbered over ten to one at the most optimistic of estimates.

Something really needed to be done about that, or the Kahanistanis stood a fair chance at overrunning him if they tried.

Of course, there was some good to come of it. His men had been given more time to dig in and fortify their positions, ensuring that any Kahanistani assault across no-man's-land would be extremely costly. He knew he stood a superb chance of withstanding an assault if he had the proper resources under his command. In addition, the Kahanistanis had revealed the position of their artillery, which had resulted in an immediate counter-strike by Varinius' MLRS systems even as Ben Shaul's rocket launchers were still firing, Varinius numbering some eight-hundred 300mm launchers. Those had quickly expended their payloads of guided munitions dispensors, sending some eighty-four hundred rockets screaming into the enemy's rear, which proceeded to spill their mixed contents of anti-armor and anti-personnel submunitions over the Kahanistani artillery.

And finally, in retaliation for the strike, Varinius was authorized by Legatus Propraetoris Alexius to utilize some of the army's heaviest weapons: the Earthslam MLRS. Another terror devised by ZMI that had found its way into Doomani service, it was built off of a Warsaw heavy weapons conveyer chassis. The thirty systems in Silvanus' army were directly under Alexius' command, being a system of strategic scale. Some five-hundred miles away from the city, back in Northford, their missile racks began to elevate skyward. Their payload: twenty Vindicta short-range tactical ballistic missiles, each with a five-ton warhead. Set aside specifically for sieges in this campaign, the missiles had been fitted with aerosol dispensors for chemical weapons.

This was indeed a tremendous amount of gas; however, if the Kahanistani were preparing countermeasures for Pestis Dei, they were sorely mistaken. The Imperium Doomanum had an NBC arsenal that ran the gammet of variety; while Pestis Dei was by far the most famous of the chemical weapons used by the Imperial Army, it was only one of many. The gas in this case was Lues, a binary agent developed by the Imperial Pharmeceuticals Corporation.

Because Doomanum wanted the city intact for its own use, it had been decided that a 'dirty' gas like Pestis Dei would be rather unsuitable for operations in North Freetown. A cleaner, more effecient gas like Lues was what was needed. Consisting of a form of weaponized Halon developed by ZMI as well as weaponized Ohmefentyl gas combined in a binary agent, it was less volitile than Pestis Dei but far more effecient. The Halon gas was fully capable of simply bypassing filtration systems by its own qualities rather than needing to physically burn through them; death by the Halon would take several minutes following ingestion, however. The Ohmefentyl, however, would take mere seconds to kill. Originally developed as an analgesic, it was actualy twenty times more potent than VX nerve gas. Anyone not in full NBC suits (including clothing, as the gas could enter through the skin) would easily fall victim to this portion of Lues; as people began to suffocate from the Halon, many would likely panic and rip their masks off, allowing for the Ohmefentyl to enter through the skin and lungs, hastening their demise greatly.

A tremendous amount of the gas was released over the city: the majority of this was released over concentrations of civilians including those boarding vessels in the harbor (the crews of these vessels would certainly not be safe from the gas themselves), which had been pinpointed via infrared satellite.

To make matters worse for the Kahanistanis, the fact that they'd switched their RADAR off meant that their IRST defenses would not pick up the inbound missiles until they'd gone terminal, giving their THELs and SAMs mere seconds to engage (and THELs were in all likelihood not going to have enough time to target, heat up, and destroy the missiles due to the nature of their laser systems).

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Sidonius' air operations against the Republic Navy and the evacuation ships was going quite well: as predicted, his bombers were well out of IRST range when they'd fired their missiles, and had been long gone by the time the missiles had impacted their targets, making of a scene reminiscent of old Soviet anti-shipping tactics. As the Kahanistanis furiously searched for targets, the missiles would continue to hit until the last of them had either found their mark or had been shot down. The bombers, meanwhile, had slipped back into Northford for rearming. They would continue this campaign until every last one of the Kahanistani transports had been sunk.

[OOC: Sounds reasonable. BTW, what does CMPL stand for? I've seen them in the first invasion, but never knew what the term meant. From the sound of it, it's some kind of IFV.]

"The b'nei Amalek are blasting our rockets! Get those things scooted for another shot or you won't live to be killed by the Doomani!" roared Colonel Ben Shaul, his kippah falling off of his gasmasked head. He shoved it back on and picked up his rifle. At that moment, a panicked captain rushed into the colonel's bunker, dragging a fallen comrade.

"Sir! The Doomani are deploying chemical weapons... they do not appear to be Pestis Dei." He laid the body of the officer he had been dragging at the colonel's feet. It was a woman in her mid-thirties, with the rank insignia of a major.

"She pulled her mask off, started suffocating," said the captain. "Sir, I've never seen anything like this." The woman's face was frozen in terror, her body in a state of extreme rigour as a result of the terrible circumstances of her demise. "There are thousands... like that. Civilians, too, I'm reckoning at least 5,000 military and 30,000 civilians, probably more. The ones not in full NBC are dropping like flies. General al-Assad's ordered the troops never to take off their masks, he's having us bring oxygen tanks into battle, but there's no way we can survive against this."

"Captain Verinov. I don't think that we will survive this battle," said Ben Shaul. "We are here to protect as many civilians as we can... how many artillery batteries did we manage to save?"

"About two hundred... so around thirty percent of what we had before. I shot the moron who didn't move the guns after the first shot," said the shaken captain. "Colonel, the Doomani aren't advancing. I think we should just charge their position... we outnumber them immensely."

"We outnumbered them in the Negev, and still lost. We should inflict casualties on them from here - bleed them dry and force them to back away from the civilians. From a tactical point of view, if I were the Doomani general... I'd want to take Metzuda - the fortress capital. To do that, I'd need every soldier I had, and attacking civilians could come later. The Germans, yimach shmam, did not begin HaShoah until Poland and many of the other European nations had fallen in their entirety."

"But the Doomani are smarter than the Nazis were," said the captain. "They know we won't wait till the capital falls to flee. This is their only chance to wipe out our civilisation."

"You're right," said Ben Shaul. "We defeat the Doomani here, and our people survive. All we have to do is hold the city until the last ship leaves or is destroyed... unless we get word from the Allaneans that an Ouroburos is coming in."

The remaining artillery proceeded to fire the last remaining thermobaric ordnance in the city garrison, some 2,000 thermobaric rockets in addition to 1,000 anti-armour cluster rounds and 1,000 anti-personnel cluster rounds - a total of four thousand rockets from some two hundred launchers scattered throughout the city. The primary targets for the thermobaric rounds were those damned artillery guns and anything else that could conceivably be used to fire chemical ordnance.

---

The fleet

Some ships had indeed lost their radar to enemy fire, computer malfunctions, or in at least one case, a rat that had chewed through the wiring in the weapons array on the destroyer RKS Laila al-Majani. However, not all of the radars were gone, and many of the Doomani missiles were detected. Yet, detection did not always mean there was time to fire, and firing did not always score a hit. Over a dozen more transports were struck, with damage ranging from the loss of the supply containers above deck to being split in half by a vast number of enemy missiles.

RKS Heinrich Himmler

Captain Stein surveyed the effect of the Lances and Khans that had been fired on the Questarians and Kriegos. His radar did not detect any enemy vessels, but this did not mean that they had all been destroyed. It could have meant that, or it could have meant that they had retreated out of range, or it could have meant that his 64-year-old eyes couldn't read the radar screen as well as they once had. It could even mean that there was something wrong with his radar systems.

He sat down in his seat, awaiting the reports from the front. Apparently the Lances were falling short in too many cases; he asked his fleet commander to stop firing them and he had obliged... for now.

The captain lowered his head and asked his Lord how such a peaceful nation could have come to such a pointless war.

[[OOC: not to interject, but having been the second seat to the Joint CMPL development, CMPL stands for Common Multi-Purpose Light Vehicle. It was a Development project in APOC to develop a replacement for many of the Organizations HMMWV and Light Truck variations to reduce logistics costs.

Asa result its rugged, and well armored, with a lot of internal space and dynamic load carrying ability.

Image references:
Long Wheel Base [1] (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/jay3135/Hardware/cmpl.png) [2] (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/jay3135/work/mini3.png) [3] (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/jay3135/work/cmplflat.png)

Short Wheel Base [1] (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/jay3135/Hardware/CMPL_Ss.png) [2] (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/jay3135/Hardware/shortcmpl.png)

And now I bow out, Again apologies for the intrusion...]]

North Freetown, Kahanistan

The once proud Legio XIL now lay in total ruins. Every single Stormhammer was now completely out of action; only a handfull were salvagable after that last debacle. Indeed, a major component of the Siege of North Freetown had been taken out of play: the Imperium's superheavy artillery. Legatus Legionis Varinius was a shamed man; to continue to draw breath would only bring further dishonor unto himself, his family, and the Imperium.

He'd failed to keep the men entrusted to him alive, and- worse- he had allowed the enemy to neutralize one of the most important components of the operation. In fact, under his command, the Kahanistanis had inflicted more casualties on the Imperial Army then they had inflicted in the entire Negev Crusade and subsequent year-long insurgency. There was no doubt an Inquisition planned into his performance over the past few days, and he did not want to bear the shame that came with being labelled a heretic.

He blamed no one but himself: his own foolishness had allowed this to come about. It was a shameful end to what had been an outstanding career of service to God and Caesar.

Standing beside the ruined hulk that had once been a mighty Stormhammer, his prefect arrived at his side.

"You called for me, sir?"

The grizzled old veteran turned, gazing into Argentus with tired, weary eyes.

"I did. I'm informing you that as of now, I have effectively relieved myself of command. The Thirty-Ninth is under your command now, prefect."

Argentus stood firm; though slightly shocked, he was not surprised. He knew this was coming as soon as the second volley of rockets began to impact the Stormhammer batteries. Snapping to attention, Argentus responded emotionlessly,

"I understand, sir. I shall fullfill the duties entrusted to me by God and Caesar."

Varinius nodded.

"I pray that you will do a better job than I did..." he turned, staring off towards the city.

From where he was he could see as Imperial artillery rounds slammed into sections of the city, illuminating large portions and sending torrents of rubble and steel shooting through the air as they targetted the enemy missile batteries.

"I want you to do the honors, Argentus. There's no other man I'd trust more to do it," he said simply.

Without even turning around, he drew his gladius. It was superbly polished; gazing for a moment at his reflection in its flawless blade, he turned and handed it hilt first to Prefect Argentus. Argentus took it, gripping it tightly, the tip of the blade faced towards the broken general. Varinius took a step back and began undoing the velcro straps on his armor; he tore the armor off, revealing thoroughly-soaked digital Doomani style BDUs*. Tossing the vest aside, he took one last breath, gazing towards the heavens and begging for forgiveness.

He stared down into the prefect's eyes. Suddenly, he lunged forward, forcing himself gut-first into the blade. He uttered no sigh or groan as he siezed Argentus' by his shoulders, pulling himself further into the blade until he'd been completely impaled. Spattered in his general's blood, Argentus' emotionless expression remained unchanged as he let go of the hilt, letting Varinius back up and take a seat beside one of the enourmous wheels of the Stormhammer that had been blown off in the artillery strike.

Anger seethed in Varinius' veins; he twisted the blade within himself. Closing his eyes, his head tilted downwards.

"Sancta Maria, Mater Dei ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc et in hora mortis nostrae," he growled viciously as Argentus strode away from the area in order to salvage what his commander had ruined, "Amen..."


*Doomani desert BDUs were actualy based off the robes worn by Iurari nomads, utilizing multiple layers with pockets of air trapped in between to keep the wearer extremely cool; these however were trimmed to a practical length for military issue, making them appear closer to normal BDUs, albeit bulkier

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

"That's a nice little clusterfuck you've managed, Alexius," growled Silvanus, who'd arrived at the front some five minutes before after hearing what had happened. The two walked alongside one another past an artillery position as its 152mm boxer gun sounded off, sending a pair of heavy shells screaming towards the city. With them walked Legatus Legionis Otho, commander of the Thirty-Eighth Legion and overall commander of the actual siege.

"No fucking apologees," he immediately raised his hand before Alexius could utter a word, "This was unavoidable. Those men died to teach us a lesson, Alexius. This will not happen again, will it?" he pointed at his subordinate accusingly, glaring at him with his ferocious eyes,

"Of course not, sir!" Alexius responded fiercely as if compensating for something.

"Damn right it won't. Now, I've gotten in contact with TIW Sales Department. The Thirty-Ninth is getting replenished by foreign mercs with newer ZMI gear."

Alexius seemed shocked and stopped walking. Silvanus did not.

"I know, but it's necessary. Besides, these guys are very good at what they do. They'll be here within a few days, hopefully, and we'll be able to proceed with the operation as planned," he stopped walking, turning towards the city for a moment.'

He spoke more softly, "I've been lobbying for some heavier support, and Caesar has decided to give me a Unity Gun strike. As to how it is to be used I'll leave to you. I want North Freetown soon, Alexius. I intend to give you everything you need to make that happen."

Alexius grinned broadly like a child who had recieved an amazing gift, "Two weeks at the very most and I'll have the city secured," he boasted, "at the rate they're pulling their civvies out, I suspect I may have it even sooner."

Silvanus nodded soberly.

"I'll take your word for it. I suggest you talk with Sidonius and try to get that air defense grid of their's down for good. By the way, who did you replace Varinius with?"

"Argentus. Pleb, but good man. Knows his shit," Otho finally broke his silence.

"Good. I'll be in touch."

He strode away from them towards a waiting CMPL liason vehicle, which quickly sped off to carry him to some other part of the front. When the vehicle was well out of visual range, Alexius turned to Otho,

"How long, Otho?"

"A week at the most," he grinned.

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The response against the enemy artillery had been more precise and measured, this time around. Otho's 152mm guns each recieved target coordinates for one of the MLRSs: in the end there were roughly two GPS-guided munitions-dispensing shells for every individual MLRS track. Even if the Kahanistanis scooted right after shooting, orbiting satellites were tasked to keep track of all of the enemy batteries. The guns would find their marks even if the enemy ran; even if the first hits missed, they'd be able to get a follow-up shot almost immediately.

This time, the guns sped away immediately after firing their first shots and would be able to take any follow-up shots on the move (granted, this was not a good idea for sustained fire but it worked for when you needed to get another round in quickly) in order to prevent anything else the K'stanis had hidden from taking a counter-battery shot.

ACID was also escalating its campaign. The bomber fleet assigned to hit North Freetown's harbor was rearmed once again; however, of the fifty, ten of them had exchanged their payload of twenty-four anti-shipping missiles for a rotary launcher containing twelve cruise missiles equipped with anti-shipping mines. Once more, the bombers engaged from standoff range, with the anti-shipping missiles streaking towards their targets which had by now already expended a good deal of ammunition dealing with the last wave of cruise missiles. In addition, there were now fewer enemy ships, meaning that the decrease in the number of missiles targetting the ships would not make a big difference overall.

Meanwhile, the missiles armed with mines headed towards the harbor itself and the mouth of the harbor. They spat their mines all over the harbor to make it nearly impossible for the transports to maneuver or even move while they were under attack from the cruise missiles; most of the mines were targetted at the mouth of the harbor to prevent further escapes. Any vessel attempting to run through the mouth of the harbor would most likely hit mines and sink, blocking its entrance and preventing further esacpes.

Meanwhile, the twelve-strong squadron assigned to attacking targets already underway went through their routine run, unleashing their barrage of nearly three hundred missiles from extreme distance and immediately heading home. As usual, the missiles concentrated on the enemy transports and hospital ships to ensure that very few refugees would make it out alive.

If anything, the longer the garrison of North Freetown sat still, the longer the Doomani would have to prey on the fleeing transport ships with total impunity. Escape by sea would no doubt be becoming less and less attractive and practical.

Finally, the Unity Guns requisitioned for the siege were put to work. In order to make up for the lack of pressure being put on the enemy's defenses by the sixteen-inchers, the enemy's lines would now come under bombardment by weapons that simply dwarfed the Stormhammers in terms of sheer terror. The Unity Guns had been used in the Negev Crusade against the Valens Line, which had simultaneously been assaulted by Imperial Whyatican forces. The massive, multi-billion dollar line had been breached within a day of fighting thanks to the sheer firepower of the Unity Guns.

Now they were being trained on a less fortified line manned by far more poorly trained troops: three hundred of the guns had been requisitioned for the strike, which would proceed to pound the line for an hour straight. Enourmous high explosive and thermobaric rounds were utilized to simply obilterate the line itself, destroying anything resembling cover and burying alive anyone near it, while the thermobaric rounds simply vaporized anything nearby.

Roughly six-hundred enourmous 33.3" shells would have impacted the line by the time the hour was up; as far as the defenders knew, at the rate the shells were hitting, there would be another volley inbound. Just sitting there and taking it would be nothing short of suicide.

Suicide was starting to look a more attractive option to many Kahanistanians, both soldiers and civilians - it was only a miracle of the Republic Navy's training that had so far kept anyone from hitting a mine, though many ships had ended up being hit by missiles while slowly navigating through, and with the garrison still under bombardment with no end in sight, suicide was generally considered the lesser of two evils when the other was either starving to death, being burned alive, or worse - being flayed alive and replacing one of the Ligonians whose dead or dying bodies adorned the gruesome mockeries of Doomani crucifixions.

Therefore, charging the Doomani position and risking capture was NOT something that General Mohammed bin Hamed al-Assad wanted to do, especially with the Doomani undoubtedly furious about losing their heavy siege guns. He didn't have any more of the rocket artillery that had proven so effective against the Doomani, and he was beginning to lose hope for the fleeing refugees - there was only so much the Republic Navy could do for them, especially since the damned minesweeper crews had been among the first to flee. Bloody cowards.

The Kahanistanian general performed ritual wudhu - cleansing before prayer, knelt down on his prayer rug, and faced Mecca to pray to Allah. With tears streaming down his cheeks, the commander of the North Freetown defences picked up his IMI .50 Desert Eagle and recited the Shahada.

"Ashhadu anna la ilah illa Allah, wa ashhadu anna Mohammed rasul Allah." I testify that there is no god but Allah, and I testify that Mohammed is the prophet of Allah.

He cocked the pistol. "Allahu akbar." The general shot himself through the heart. There was no more he could have done for Kahanistan. Many soldiers and civilians did similarly, having lost loved ones, having lost friends, and fearing the deaths the Doomani would put them to.

Colonel Avraham Eleazar ben Shaul was now the operational commander for what remained of the North Freetown garrison, some 3,000 regular military, 46,000 reservists, and 63,000 militia - 112,000 armed men and women of the original 400,000. He looked on at the suicides, reminding him so strongly of the martyrs of Masada 1,934 years previously. Would he die like this, too? No. He would die under Doomani artillery if HaShem were kind to him. More likely, he would be savaged by bayonets, choked by gas, or nailed to a Star of David. He had a great big wooden Star of David, blue as the one on the Israeli flag, reserved for the Doomani commander.

Ben Shaul's first act as overall garrison commander was to ask the Republic Navy to protect South Freetown. Then, he could simply hold North Freetown as long as he liked in order to buy escapees through there plenty of time and advance warning. However, he didn't like just sitting there and enduring bombing any more than General al-Assad had.

After reading They Must Go for the nineteenth time, he stood inspired before his troops.

---

"The Doomani have murdered countless thousands of civilians by bombing of lightly protected transports," said Colonel Ben Shaul. "We must show these animals that there is a high price to pay for murdering Jews." He raised his fist and shouted, "NEVER AGAIN!"

"NEVER AGAIN!" roared the soldiers in front of him.

"Then it's decided!" roared Ben Shaul. "We storm their positions! Never will the Jews be driven into the sea!" Of course, he was neglecting the fact that three quarters of the population were not Jewish, but social upheaval tends to promote extreme forms of nationalism, even those that had generally been suppressed.

With the loss of the MRLS, the North Freetown garrison had only one hundred Sarzonian-made 155mm artillery guns with them. These guns and the 150 or so Merkava IV's that had survived the barrage would be the only gun support they would have as the first wave of ten thousand reservists, filled with anger, grief, and hate, poured out of the city towards the Doomani lines, armed with anti-armour launchers, M-240 medium machine guns, flamethrowers and Hali-53's. Of course, the artillery now had strict orders to move immediately after firing.

Ben Shaul knew that his forces would not win, but they would rather die here than simply sit back and let the enemy shoot them up. Within the city, bombs were being readied to destroy the shipyards, as well as the majority of the city should the Doomani breach the gates - non-essential factories were already in the process of being destroyed as the Kahanistanians did not want the city to fall into the hands of the Doomani. Essential ones would be collapsed should the Doomani breach.

Siege of North Freetown

Spurius snapped his air-filtering visor into place within his helmet. The roars of the enemy army could be heard in the distance as they commenced their advance. Drawing back the bolt of his rifle slightly, he observed the chamber. One 6.7x53mm APFJ round was drawn back into his sight. Satisfied, he released the charging handle, letting it snap forward with a loud clack.

His positions had been well fortified over the past twenty-four hours of the siege. His men had gotten little to no sleep; the same could undoubtedly be said of the enemy. As of right now, the sheer adrenaline of battle would keep the men at peak performance. A voice crackled in his earpiece,

"Open fire at six hundred meters," Centurion Quintonus' voice boomed over the radio. "They'll be relatively soft by then...and if it comes to tanks, get a missile downrange at the earliest possible moment."

Their foxholes were well protected with sandbags and deep enough to give them effective cover against enemy shelling; each man had also been issued a directional anti-personnel mine to position in front of his hole in the even it came to extreme close quarters. Razor wire had been strung about the front of their perimeter as well as bouncing betty-style anti-personnel mines and gas mines. The Minotauri had also been dug in, their crew-served weapons positioned to have interlocking fields of fire to supplement the Testudo-U armored personnel carriers. The APCs had been dug hull down, exposing only their small, unmanned remote copula upon which was mounted a pair of lethal double-barreled 37mm gast guns and an ATGM pod.

Overall, Spurius had under his command the ultimate defensive position for anti-personnel work. Behind him, he could here as the centuria's battery of self-propelled 125mm gast mortars began to commence fire. Built off of a Testudo chassis, it was a double-barreled mortar system, able to put the relatively large rounds downrange at a fearsome rate of fire.

He was able to tell apart the 125s from the 203s: the later made the Earth shake as they fired, and no sooner than the 125s opened up the 203s went to work. The enemy was not even in visual range yet but they knew what was happening: an unrelenting rain of mortar shells was falling upon the infantry, who moved across open ground. Naturally, the Doomani were playing dirty: the 125mm shells were laced with Lues gas (the Halon would probably be even more lethal against the Kahanistanis now that they were running, which would require more breathing: as a result they'd inhale the gas much more quickly).

The 203mm mortar rounds were, instead, munitions dispensing: pure anti-personnel, scattering hundreds of baseball-sized bomblets over the field through which the enemy charged, designed not only to kill, but to blow limbs off and maim enemy personnel horrificly. There was also quite a few white phosphorous bomblets mixed in with the fragmentation ones to cause vicious burning wounds to further slow the enemy's advance.

They mortars simply kept pouring the rounds in, never once letting up the bombardment, coordinating with friendly UAVs and satellites to walk their fire in as the advance continued to make sure the enemy always had rounds dropping on top of them. In the distance, there was a horrible, shrill screeching as cohort-level rocket launchers went to work. Built off of an Imperator tank chassis, every cohort had a battery of 152mm MLRSs attached to them alongside the 203mm mortars: these rockets were much shorter ranged than their 300mm counterparts. However, their sheer numbers (twenty-four per launcher) made up for that in the closer engagements they were involved in. Naturally, they were crammed with thermobaric rounds: the totally saturated the enemy advance, mixing with the gas and cluster munitions to create the perfect mixture of anti-personnel weaponry to suffocate, incinerate, and eviscerate the enemy soldiers before they even came within eyesight of the dug-in Legionaries.

For those that made it within visual range of the Doomani, the fight was only about to get more difficult and gruesome: visual distance varried along the line (there was roughly six hundred meters of relatively open (albeit pockmarked and uneven) space in front of Spurius' unit before the terrain got really rough as it approached the city). Spurius ordered his Testudos to hold fire for a bit as the Kahanistani reservists began to make it out into his killzone so that it would become nice and crowded before they opened up.

From where they were, they could see as the mortar rounds continued to drop on top of the enemy, continueing to saturate them with gas and explosives (how any of the infidels were still moving was simply a mystery to the Legionaries; they'd found oxygen tanks in the Northford Line and suspected that had something to do with it, altho the slightest cut from shrapnel in a uniform would comprimise the NBC seal, allowing for Lues to flow in and kill the soldier). Finally, Spurius gave the signal.

The four track opened up simultaneously: four separate, short bursts that sounded more like a series of extremely loud buzzing noises than cannons as they began pouring their heavy 37mm flechette-shot rounds downrange at a simply ludacris rate of fire of 4400 rounds per minute per vehicle. Each individual shell was packed with heavy tungsten flechettes and a laser proximity fuse that caused it to split open at the optimal distance from the beaten zone, ensuring that it was completely saturated with flechettes. All the Legionaries saw were enourmous clouds of sand and dust as the rounds impacted the terrain around the enemy soldiers, causing them to effectively disappear for a moment.

Then came the lighter weapons: any thermal signatures still showing up after that were met by a hail of 7.8mm rounds from the Minotauri and their 4M6 medium machineguns, and the heavyweight 15.7mm machineguns of the CMPLs. By now the riflemen began to join in: they took precise shots, staring down their scopes, putting steel on anything resembling targets from six hundred meters away while squad automatic riflemen sent ferocious bursts of 6.7mm ammo down into the squads' beaten zones. All this as the Testudos continued to keep a steady series of bursts going downrange, raking the field with 37mm fire. Anyone who somehow made it by all of that to come within four hundred meters would subsequently be greeted by the trenturia's two 40mm grenade machineguns, also wielded by the Minotauri.

Even enemy tanks would not be safe from the torrent of fire: the 37mm buckshot rounds would be more than enough to completely saturate and wreck the sensors of the Merkava tanks, and the ensueing Corona ATGM that would meet the tank from the Testudo would take a terminal dive into the roof of the tank, smashing its tandem heat warhead into the weakest section of the vehicle to incinerate the crew. This duty could also be undertaken by the infantry (every squad had a Spiculum gunner who carried three Censura LGATWs, a top-attack ATGM designed to be fired from the Spiculum RPG).

Overall, things on the ground were quite messy. The Kahanistani artillery barrage, meanwhile, was not as effective as it could have been were it not under pressure to keep moving to avoid counter battery fire: 155mm artillery shells landed sporadically about the line. Because there had been so little pressure against the siegeworks beforehand, there had been ample time for the men to dig in, and so they were well protected against enemy artillery rounds. Of course, against the barrage, all they could do was pray that a round didn't come too close to their foxhole- if it did, they would simply be liquified, and this did happen a number of times, with some shells even getting lucky and connecting with a Testudo or CMPL and making a real mess. However, they did have one thing going for them: every trenturia had a SEPS system covering them, disabling any proximity fused shells the Kahanistanis may have been using.

Countering the artillery while it was moving was delegated to ACID: counter-battery RADAR pointed the satellites to the locations of the enemy howitzers and so they were tracked as they left the area to move to their new firing point. Aquilae operating at medium altitude, each armed with ten small diameter bombs, released their payloads from roughly twenty miles away. The bombs would proceed to glide towards the targets, adjusting course as the satellites dictated to ensure the artillery would not escape.

The bombs, in turn, would go terminal with their own thermal imaging sensors once they got close enough and guide themselves right into the enemy artillery tracks, plunging their hundred pound high-explosive dual purpose warheads into the ancient Sarzonian-made vehicles. There were twenty Aquilae operating against the artillery total making for roughly two bombs per gun to ensure that they'd be thoroughly saturated and effectively neutralized.

A huge Sarzonian gun, painted to resemble male genitalia - a glorification of sodomy by an apparently homosexual Kahanistanian officer - exploded under heavy enemy fire, spraying shrapnel and body parts of crew members over the area. Nearby, a Merkava with thirty-seven tally marks and "KATHLIXZ KILLD" fell headon into a trench, its crew too excited to notice the pit. Despite the fact that over 70% of Kahanistanians over 25 had a bachelor's degree, there were those who couldn't spell... and those who spoke Hebrew, Latin or Arabic as first languages.

"Remember, gas is better than the nails!" commanded Ben Shaul. Without even waiting for the first wave to be completely wiped out, he detached a second wave of 20,000 troops. If the Doomani numbers were as low as he'd figured, they had to be running out of ammunition soon, and they could then be defeated in hand-to-hand combat with bayonets.

The first wave, as was expected, suffered over 90% casualties within minutes from the gasses, machine guns, rockets, snipers, and other assorted enemy action; their purpose was merely to gauge enemy strength, drain their ammunition, and kill what they could. Now, a much larger wave charged in, supported by only twenty 155mm guns and fifty Merkava tanks. The guns sold themselves dearly, making every shot at the Doomani artillery count. The soldiers here were simply to die rather than be tortured to death by the Doomani, unless relief were to come.

---

While the Doomani were engaged in the siege of North Freetown, South Freetown prepared its defences, bringing over twelve hundred MLRS, six hundred 155mm's, an armoured division and two infantry divisions. Trenches, minefields, razor-sharp concertina wire, and lethal electric fences were strung up around the city, with only a few paths to allow refugees through. Should the Doomani attempt to storm there, however, hidden machine-gun nests would open fire on them long before they saw a Kahanistanian soldier.

Gas masks and thick NBRC warfare suits were being produced furiously, and it was known that this was the last escape once North Freetown fell. In Metzuda, however, many were growing more and more hostile toward the Allaneans. The military had covered up al-Ghazi's disappearance to lead the Northfordians to believe the terror bombings would continue; in actuality al-Ghazi's actions against them were an aberration to the way a typical Kahanistanian officer thought. Most considered attacks on civilians - Doomani civilians, let alone Northfordians, to be barbaric and genocidal acts of depravity.

Gideon Roth, the Chief Rabbi of Metzuda, angrily condemned the Allaneans from his synagogue.

"The Allaneans... they harp on about property rights," the Rabbi said, his voice laden with contempt. "But they refuse us transport when we merely wish to take our valuables here rather than leave them for Maximus, yimach shmo v'zichro, may his name and memory be obliterated, to desecrate, or take for his own army of imperialist gangster Nazi maniacs who want to destroy the Islamic, Jewish, Protestant, and dare I say it, moderate Catholic peoples of our great nation."

"Just last month, gadol moreinu HaRav Norm Pinhas, zecher tzadik livracha, HaShem yikom damo, our great teacher the Rabbi Pinhas, may the memory of this righteous man be a blessing, may the Lord avenge his blood, was murdered in cold blood by Allanean fascists while protecting his community Torah scroll. Nothing is sacred to the Allanean barbarians, except their god, money. The same god the Doomani worship, although they call themselves Catholics. Why do you think their economy is so powerful they can support this war machine? It's because they spend nothing on welfare, or education, or housing, or anything else. They have more in common with the Doomani Natzim than with us! The only thing we have in common with the Allaneans is a love of personal freedom, and we have that much in common with MassPwnage."

A simple message was broadcasted to Rabbi Gideon Roth: You are a moron. The only reason we don't let people take valuables aboard our planes it to free up as much cargo as possible for refugees. We thought that was obvious.

And now it was time for the tide to turn. From every corner of Allanea, hundreds of ships, thousands of cargo aircraft began to take off – not only those belonging to the Army, but even the Floating Monastery of the Sisters of Liberty. From around Haven, 1,000 warships and 4,000 cargo ships were making their way to Kahanistan – 120 of them in the Strobovian Strait already, freed up by the sudden signing of peace. From Northern Haven, two thousand cargo planes made their way to Kahanistan, and a similar number was going in from San-Nereiana. They were met along the way by over 5,000 Air Superiority Fighters that took off in the Cloyster Coast. Additionally, from Northern Haven, an escort of 3,000 ASF's and 2,000 multipurpose fighter planes accompanied the Armadas.

Already, the Nuclear Pulse Guns on Roanoke Island began to fire, salvo after mighty salvo, targetting the Doomani gun batteries. Every two hours, the 16 cannon would give forth a terrible salvo, sending giant shells into the midst of the Doomani troops. And even as the ships, planes, and men were on their way, a simple address was made.

Greetings, Doomani scum. This is Alexander Kazansky speaking.

I would like to say I am very, very positively impressed by the Kahanistani army. I didn't expect them to hold out this long. I really, really didn't. And yet, they did. Here they are, holding the line against you – and on all the other fronts, the war is over. Your buddies have all left. Now, this is the only front. It's just you, with your shoddy planes made by slave labor, versus billions of free men and women all over Haven. Allaneans, Midlonians, Kahanistani, Skyians, and on and on.

Under our approximations, there are less then 200,000 of you attacking Kahanistan. Should I go mad, and send my troops to attack you without weapons, powered armor, or tanks, we would still best you by our sheer weight. Even the Kahanistani are now kicking your sorry asses. Really, why don't you guys kill yourself and spare yourself the humiliation?

Within the next few hours, the first Allaneans will land in Kahanistan. Our allies will soon begin arriving. Kahanistan will shift troops from his Kriegorgrad border. Then we will sweep through country like an invincible wave of death and destruction. Every single Doomani will be killed. We will throw you into the Haven seas.

You have one last opportunity to save yourself: Go to the nearest Kahanistani military officer and surrender to him, and pray to God that he's a catholic.

That is all. May God bless Allanea.

OOC:

After posting the above, I have been informed that the map has been edited to retroactively include Doom’s presence into Haven, just between me and Kahanistan.

This is of course extremely problematic, and I feel Kahanistan should be informed of it.

The map is here for your perusal (http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a161/anomaly149/Havenmap.png)

Manor of Lord Whipsnade Consulate-General of the Southern Midlonian Colony of New Birchester

“Look, Alex, I completely understand, but as it goes we’re still fighting the Questarian elements all across Haven, not to mention the naval shit-storm right in the Strob Strait, we cannot risk sending any people into Kahanistan. However with the Questarians proposing peace it’ll be only a few days to the end of the War, the Doomani’s will probably withdraw. If they don’t then you’ll have our full cooperation from New Birchester.” Lord Whipsnade stroked his moustache as he spoke into the red Bakelite mobile field telephone.

"Look here. These people are going to die if we don't move quick. They're dying because they've stood up for us and interposed themselves between our back and the Doomani. Isn't this our responsibility to protect them? And if that doesn't matter to you, what about the threat of having a Doomani presence a Khan's flight away from New Birchester?”

Whipsnade sighed and looked out his window as the Espada Del Imperito, still burning in places despite being in Harbour now for several days. “We also have the problem of the Espada and it’s task force still sitting in here with us taking up a chunk of the harbour. And the IQN still being fairly active within the darn strait, we don’t have a safe passage to move in our guys safely yet. We can try to start embarking and helping where we can, but it’d be messy and incur losses to early for us to run a genuinely sustainable campaign against the Doomani.”


"Can't you at least lob some rockets at them accorss the straight? I thought you guys had Khan stockpiles the size of Mt. Liberty."


“We never bought the bloody things, we’ve been trying to develop our own long-range anti-shipping missiles and they need refining after being proved mostly useless against the Questarians. We can garuntee forces to that theatre, but only when the Questarians and ourselves broker peace, it‘d probably be around 24 hours before we even begin to land troops.” snapped back Whipsnade.

Very well. I guess we're going to have to hold them for a few days, your Highness." - the sneer in Kazansky's voice was almost painfully obvious - "Yet again, someone has to do these things, and turns out to be us. Over and out."

“Oh no, Mr former President.” retorted Whipsnade. “We’ll be there, probably to save your arses. We’ll confer more in a day or two, the Midlonian Commander I intend to send is a Brigadier-General Smith, he’ll work with you, direct liasing, so I suggest you get to his HQ when it’s set up. It’d probably be in New Sodom. Make sure you let the Kahanistani’s know we’re coming. We don’t wanna fight the spooked locals too.”

"Very well." - shrugged Kazansky. - "That's the best we can get it seems."

Whipsnade simply hung up. “Get me Brigadier General Smith, and Admiral Jenkins, immediately.” he said into an intercom on his desk.

“Yes Mi’Lord.” came the quick reply.

RKS Imperator Marum

Admiral Carl Jenkins, commander of the Kahanistanian fleet holding the western coastline open, was moving his fleet toward South Freetown when he got the call.

"This is Admiral Carl Jenkins, Kahanistan Republic Navy, to Midlonian Command. I have received your call, state your reason for contacting our forces," the admiral said on his secure radio. He sounded calm, despite the fact that his forces were still being chewed up and he was now moving his fleet between South Freetown's Khan stockpile and the enemy.

"We'd send someone to the talks with the Questies, but we're barely able to get our civilians out of the country. Basically, we just want to be left alone by the Questarian Commonwealth."

OOC: Uuuh, no. my Admiral Jenkins, not yours :P

At Sea, Approaching the Strob
Admiral Pime Taradox sat silently for several minutes, confused by the sudden turn of events within the last day. Before Zukariaa had even begun to fight, the war was coming to an end, the Questarians stepping down in defeat. Not only were the Zukariaans angry with the fact that their side had lost, despite how good things were beginning to look, the command was even more pissed that they hadn't gotten to carry out a single operation. Especially Admiral of the Fleet Pime Taradox, a man known far and wide for his personality and famous family, one which stretched back to the founding of the nation.

Now Taradox stared at the Emperor, on a large moniter, in confusion. There were low grumbles of disappointment in the voices of the admiral's command. A fleet of some 500 ships had been sent out for a strike against Illior several days earlier, but now it had halted and was awaiting further orders.

"Are you saying, sir, that the war has ended?" asked Taradox, the confusion obvious.

"That's what it looks like, Admiral. However, your job isn't done. The Doomani fight on and while we do not find it advisable to fight the Freeks, not yet anyways, we do see that it is important to free up Doomani forces in Kahanistan as soon as possible. They are a strategic ally and if they fall to Gholgothan forces, we may see a lasting presence in Haven. We cannot allow this." the Emperor finished his explanation, satisfied with the lightened faces of the navy command in front of him.

"Wait, don't the Doomani kill off anyone they consider heathans, as in anyone who isn't a Doomani Catholic?" Taradox had said what was on several people's minds. Zukariaans were, of course, polytheistic people.

"Uhm.." the Emperor tried to talk,"Well, I don't think they'd do that to their allies, and if so, that just seems to me to prove that they don't really deserve help." It was common knowledge that the Doomani and a young Zukariaa had fought a long and bloody war nearly a thousand years ago, one which had left it's mark.

"Regardless, you need to get moving for Kahanistan as soon as possible. The force that we had planned for Illior will be more than enough for Kahanistan, especially now that they have begun to collapse in upon themselves. Have fun. Over and out."

The order had been given. Five full carrier fleets, full of a force meant for another front, were being diverted to Kahanistan's east coast.

In space, far above Haven, the satellites of the No Endorse space program roared to life. Hundreds upon hundreds of missiles arced through the skies, countless projectiles were fired, all intended to remove any Allanean and Midlonian entities in orbit. Chemical lasers joined the fray, as did multiple ground based laser arrays, hoping to eliminate the inferior space networks of the less evolved. Such an attack would be totally unexpected from a nation like No Endorse, generally aloof from petty regional squabbles. “Generally”….

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

In any No Endorse strategic exchange, there is a feeling that everything is going right. This is of course a fallacy, the fact that there is such an exchange in the first place negates any correctness to the situation, but the feeling lingers over every part of the nation, as the preparations are undertaken like clockwork.

The instant such an order is put forth, the entire system becomes one with almost no human intervention necessary or possible. Silos are opened, targeting coordinates entered, and missiles launched. Once targets have been designated, the entire system is automated to a degree that nuclear fire can be triggered at, literally, the click of a mouse. Missiles launched in pre-determined formations, with dozens of decoys, countermeasure busses, and secondary missiles accompanying to ensure total area saturation.

Encirclement patterns with multiple redundant re-entry vehicles for each point had been programmed for almost any location in Haven, making the firing sequence a matter of selecting the correct pre-loaded targeting profile and letting her rip, with full knowledge that the fleets and cities of another nation would feel the full force of No Endorse’s weapons. From Roanoke’s aggravating Nuclear Artillery to civilian resorts in Atlantic Isle, from missile silos to ports, nothing had been spared in the orgasmic demonstration of power overwhelming. Air bursting missiles had even been sent to intercept the massive Allanean fighter formations forming over the Strobovia Straight. And the Prime Minister’s personal stock had been designated for the honor of targeting the capitol itself. With crimson tipped fins and alternating orange and black body paint, these behemoths were the first to take to the air. All told, the yield of each re-entry vehicle exceeded the sum total of every bomb and shell fired in the Second World War. And with every missile carrying at minimum a dozen such, the number rapidly spiraled out of control.

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

Standard Operating Procedure for a nuclear exchange is relatively simple. Any and everything that can be, is taken to a blast proof location. Almost everything within No Endorse was already somewhat hardened against strategic exchange, but the vast bunkers and tunnel networks ensured that even in the face of a full scale bombardment, No Endorse could still function. Ships immediately dispersed at maximum speed, fleets adapted a staggered formation to minimize the effects of atomics, and the vast armed forces of the nation hunkered down for a counterstroke. Such was the scene across No Endorse, a vast traffic jam as hundreds of millions headed for their bomb shelters, rescue vehicles were readied, and planes were launched. Overall, the most massive military mobilization possible, and it was all to brace for a counter-attack. But even as the order was given, volley after volley of missile continued to scream into the sky, in a desperate attempt to ensure the second strike would amount to naught.

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

Exactly sixty seconds later, the fax machines of the world slowly powered up and began their monotonous labor. The Jolt Ordinances of 20xx, so oft unused in these modern days of the Internet and the Jolt II Ordinances of 20yy, underscored their continuing, though diminished, importance in the modern world. Otherwise, how else was one going to transmit quill pen on parchment, a scanner and E-mail? Please, such trivialities are for the proletariat. Besides, making everywhere in the world keep an active fax machine with toner was more than enough fun for one national leader.

Salutations Alexander Kazansky, this is Atal Amner speaking

It is with great interest that I follow your follies throughout the Haven area. And even as the sun rises here in New Heisen, I cannot but laugh at what has taken place, and what is to come. It is interesting to note you only seem to have the courage to attack the forces of Doomingsland where they are only two hundred thousand strong, and while they are fighting a massive war elsewhere. This humorous move obviously demonstrates your cowardly unwillingness to face the full force of the Doomingsland armed forces. And yet you claim to be a power.

Because you seem to be adamant in your actions, I will be rather adamant in mine. As you can imagine, the No Endorse space program is no slouch, and we have been observing your naval buildup and subsequent excursion with great interest. It is with a light heart that I order its destruction via strategic means. We are targeting your naval fleets presently, and upon the transmission of this message, have let forth a glorious salvo. Whether by nuclear attack, radiation bombing, or conventional hyper-penetrating weapon, your vessels will rust at the bottom of the seas. We are willing to record the events for posterity.

Let it be known from this day forth that such cowardice shall not be tolerated among the prime stock of Haven. Too long has the word "Allanea" been gouged into the otherwise unblemished flesh of Haven. We cannot and will not accept a war made only because the instigator is too yellow to make his move except when his victim is immobilized by obligations elsewhere. In nature, such predators are called opportunists; in civilization, these are called traitors, back stabbers, and pathetic excuses for honorable beings. It is unfortunate that we are also dragged into this war against Midlonia, with whom we have fewer quarrels, but so long as they serve to support you, we must wage war on all fronts. I have not initiated a strike against Midlonian civilian targets on the ground, and wish that they would merely peacefully back out of this conflict before any innocents must be destroyed.

Alexander, it is now that you have a choice. In the event that you do not decide to push back from the table after this strike, or in the event that you decide to counterstrike, No Endorse is willing to annihilate each and every creature within the decaying nation of Allanea. We are willing to push this war past the brink of mutual destruction in the name of purging your inept and pathetic government from power, and amputating the impurities of your society from this world. What I have just ordered is merely a first strike, we are more than willing to provide dozens more. Back down, and this will be the end.

-Atal Amner
-Atal Amner
Prime Minister of No Endorse
Arch Leader of the Glorious Military Junta
Senior Director of Muncherian Affairs
High Commander of the Armed Forces
Praetor of the Nuclear Commonwealth
Lord-Protector of New Heisen and Surrounding Lands
King of the Greater No Endorse State
President of the Senate
Duke of Havia
Baron of Aerona
Bearer of the Razor of Ockham
Loyal Advocate of Darwin

Ooc: yes, that’s a fraction of my nuclear stock. I’ve long RPed as being one of the (if not THE) most over-armed nations in haven in terms of nucleics. Tag, you’re it.

OOC: This is like your first post to the thread and it basically amounts to "I nuke j00's"

It's ridiculous as we kinda had an agreement going on very limited escalation, your entry here is just ridiculous and seriously bad roleplay. I'm ignoring it.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Terran High Command
Kakuheki Integrated Command Center
Tellerus, Ancient Terra 8:12 PM

Basement Sub-Floor 220
Integrated Nuclear Defense Command Facility

The INDC was responsible for ensuring the security of Ancient Terra in the event of a nuclear attack, and therefore their immense command center was buried hundreds of stories underground, supported on immense shock absorbers and beneath innumerable layers of kevlar, lead, titanium and concrete. It sported accomodations for the thousands of men and women working in the Integrated Nuclear Defense Command, and was theoretically impervious to EMP. In the event that power was lost, it sported its own network of small, highly resilient nuclear reactors. It was, in short, a true safeguard against nuclear annihilation.

It was also completely devoid of windows, or even many light sources for that matter. Countless flat-panel monitors lined the walls, illuminating the room in a soft glow; whispered conversation between the men and women on duty created an ambient "hissing" in the air, but otherwise the unlit room had much the same feeling as a civilian airliner during "nighttime" hours. As there was not really any concept of time this deep underground, personnel worked strange and convoluted rotations. Lieutenant Matsumoto had just returned to his desk with his eighth cup of coffee when alarm klaxons began blaring throughout the facility. Startled, he slopped a considerable quantity down the front of his uniform and swore loudly.

He glanced at his screen and swore even more. The facility came to life as men and women awoke and hurried to their duty stations, but it was already clear what had occurred: a considerable number of nuclear weapons were streaking towards the Republic of Ancient Terra. The acting commander of the INDC, Vice Admiral Sono, appeared on the balcony above the room and demanded to know what the hell was going on. He listened to half-a-dozen duty officers' frantic explanations, went deathly-pale, and immediately turned to inform the Joint Chiefs of this crisis. The "Deep C" supercomputers began spitting out numbers.

An ensign came running up to Lieutenant Matsumoto. "Sir! The warheads are not inbound on the Republic of Ancient Terra, explaining why the ABM systems have not self-activated; rather, they're targeting the nation of Allanea." Matsumoto breathed a sigh of relief, although he felt a tinge of guilt over the Allanean's plight. "Unfortunately, sir," the ensign continued "Deep C-8 projects that a significant number of these weapons will detonate in a way which will spread radioactive fallout over approximately 70% of Terra's population, due to prevailing winds and Typhoon Ino forming over the Straits.

Matsumoto started. "Are you certain?!" The ensign nodded. Matsumoto grabbed the information and hurried off to inform Admiral Sono what the situation really was.

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Terran High Command
Kakuheki Integrated Command Center
Tellerus, Ancient Terra 8:18 PM

Floor 318
Meeting Room CODENAME: The Shark Pen
Impromptu Joint Chiefs of Staff Meeting

"...and that's the story." finished General Izumi. "We're expecting upwards of one billion casualties if those weapons detonate...and that's not counting what the Allaneans are going to feel." The alert had gone off six minute ago, and already time was running out. "We need to knock this strike out."

Vice Admiral Inoue was visibly upset. "Where did these weapons originate from?" she demanded. General Izumi shrugged. "Apparently they were launched by the nation of No endorse, although I'm not sure we can trust the data; they've never been even the least bit concerned with Haven Strait politics."

Inoue slammed a fist down on the table. "It's not good enough! I don't care how unlikely it is, those bastards are going to pay!"

The man sitting at the head of the table cleared his throat. "Easy, Miyako. One problem at a time. Our course of action is clear, these missiles cannot be allowed to reach their targets." He rose, his simple black uniform giving little indication of his rank except for the six stars on his collar signifying his rank of Lord Admiral. He was Lord Admiral Yamato Ishida, a Terran Hero and the current Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. "Emperor Kamiya has already given me his full consent for any actions we must undertake to ensure the safety of Ancient Terra and our friends in Allanea. He has been evacuated to Sango Airbase as per standing Nuclear Strike guidelines. We will implement Operation Constellation Race."

The officers in the room, ranking officers of the Terran Air Force, Naval Command, Ground Self-Defense Forces, Terran Amphibious Operations Command and Strategic Defense Command; all of them immediately began barking orders to their aides as they implemented procedures that had long stood but never been used.

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Haven Straits
ATN Vao, Vao-class Supercarrier
2nd Fleet Flagship 8:24 PM

Admiral Kurosaki sighed as he read the orders. He never thought he'd have to deal with a nuclear strike against the Republic of Ancient Terra...but apparently, madmen still lived. He rotated 180 degrees to stare out of the Vao's huge bridge windows, as tiny glimmers of light and columns of smoke appeared for miles around, the results of the 2nd Fleet letting loose thousands of M-12-EIC THAAD missiles. He knew that across the Haven Straits, five other similarly-sized fleets were doing the exact same thing, while others mobilized for a possible war. The thousands of interceptors were guided to their targets (decoys or otherwise) by AWACS aircraft, E-AEGIS-II systems, ground-based RADAR, and a number of other redundant systems.

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Northern Ancient Terra
120 miles north of Tellerus
42,000 ft altitude
8:27 PM

AL-52 Dragon Airborne Laser
Sinuous Coils, Formation Leader
Brigadier General Chu Commanding

A slight vibration ran through the aircraft as the adaptive-optics mirror made minute corrections to account for atmospheric interference. On the flight deck, the weapons engineers sat hunched over a console, positively grinning with anticipation as they used the AO-telescope to place a targeting cursor over a rapidly moving ballistic missile. A slight hum was heard as the COIL laser fired, its invisible beam of energy rapidly heating the skin of the ballistic missile. A second later, the incoming nuke exploded. They informed their commanding officer of their success.

All over Terra, similar situations occurred as hundreds of AL-52 Dragon Aircraft, constantly flying racetrack orbits over their proud Republic, fired at the incoming weapons. Missile after missile fell to their deadly-accurate, lightning-fast shots.

General Chu grinned. His squadron had trained long and hard for a day like this.

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Integrated Ballistic Missile Defense Silo Complex Six
CODENAME: Hidden Bulwark
40 miles southeast of Tellerus
Along the Terran Coast, 8:28 PM

Across Terra, thousands of silos opened. Once used to house her considerable nuclear arsenal, these huge complexes had been shut down when Terra had transferred her nuclear deterrent to more survivable naval and air force assets.

Now, the silos had a new mission: whereas at one time they had housed ballistic missiles, they now contained within the means to destroy them. The result of decades of research, each Extremely-High-Altitude Interceptor was deadly accurate, possessed of impressive range and extremely high speeds. The missiles rose from their silos on pillars of smoke, illuminating the night sky briefly with the bright glow of their engines. They streaked off into the darkness, searching out their targets.

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Terran High Command
Kakuheki Integrated Command Center
Tellerus, Ancient Terra 8:34 PM

Floor 318
Meeting Room CODENAME: The Shark Pen
Impromptu Joint Chiefs of Staff Meeting

Lord Admiral Ishida nodded at person on the other side of the secure video-link. "Excellent job, Admiral Sono. Please pass my congratulations and thanks on to the officers who carried out our orders. Ishida out." He turned to the assembled Joint Chiefs.

"It is done. We have utilized approximately 48% of our Readily Deployable ABM capabilities to counter weapons we have even the slightest chance of reaching in time. Numbers will be forthcoming soon, but our part is done; the rest is up to our friends in Allanea. I will speak with Emperor Kamiya in two hours, by which time I think we all will know what must follow. Call back our troops, cancel all leaves, we may have to go to war."

(OOC: The Republic of Ancient Terra is situated directly in line with Allanea and No endorse, and as such has a vested interest in protecting its own territory along with the possessions of her allies and longtime friends. I wait to see whether or not this entire strike will be ignored, but assuming that it is not this is indicative of Terra's initial response to the attacks.)

OBSAT Space Command, Classified Location, Vetaka, Lazaurs:

The Vetakan Dominion had long since parted company with Haven in favour of what had been referred to as the promised lands here within Lazaurs. However Vetaka had maintained great relationships and friendships with many Haven nations such as Kampfers under numerous Alliances and Treaties the Vetakan Defence Force operated a base within Kampfers and the Kampfian Military operated a base within Vetaka. As a result of many Vetakan friends within Haven the Vetakan Foreign Office, Vetakan Security and Intelligence Service and OBSAT Space Command all kept a watchful eye over the day to day goings on within Haven. As a result Vetakan OBSAT Observation Satellites complementing their Kampfian Counterparts detected the No Endorse Nuclear Launch against Allanea and in turn sent alerts to OBSAT Space Command thousands of miles away in Lazaurs and the Kampfian Command.

Deep within the Vetakan OBSAT Space Command Operations Room the giant HD main operation Screen was now inhabited with a huge real time map of Haven showing what limited assets the VDF had in the region as well as dotted lines of the recently launched Nuclear Weapons of No Endorse with the help of the Kampfian Network the system had been able to show the targets of the nukes. The Situation was indeed a hairy one Allanea wasn't a firm ally of Vetaka however friendships did exist between the two nations. Such Friendship however had recently cooled as many within the Vetakan Dominion where angry towards Allanea for its actions towards Questers within the great war. Questers was a strong ally of Vetaka and the special relationship between Questers and Vetaka was well known. However that said during the attempted and partially successful Nuclear Strike on Vetaka by the The Fighting Stars the United States of Allanea had launched missiles to defend the Dominion an act that had never been forgotten as a result to settle this debt the order was given for the limited Vetakan Assets within range to launch whatever they could to defend Allanea from this seemingly unprovoked attack by No Endorse:

"Authorization Confirmed Thank You Mister-President." spoke Watch Commander Tucker as he replaced the Red Phone on its hook.

Gazing at the screen Tucker cleared his throat before speaking again:

"Ok People Authorization Green, Fire"

A few operators hit a few buttons and with that orders sent by encrypted signals buzzed and whizzed away thousands of miles away back within Haven 4 Dartian Built Aries Anti-Ballistic Missile Satellites (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12199686&postcount=108) which armed, primed and locked activated launching a total of 96 Needler Anti Ballistical Missiles against the No Endorse Threats. The Satellites now empty of missiles would change orbit fall into low power standby mode and await to be reloaded within the coming months by the VDF Space Auxiliary Brigade. The Vetakan Dominion's debt to Allanea had been paid.

[No endorse, nukes have been expressly forbidden in this RP. Retcon your post or be ejected.]

Undisclosed Location. The Principality of Damirez.


Surrounding a holographic display several inteligence officers were analysing the situation in Haven. Although The Principality had no stake in the ongoing war, there were rumours of Damirans fighting for the Questarian Commonwealth and, surprisingly so, The Principality had ties with Allanea. This was reason enough for the inteligence agency to keep a close eye on what was happening.

Currently, several new agents were analysing the strategic situation there, building and discarding scenarios regarding the current events. Surprisingly enough, there was no senior officer at the table, but close by at a desk one of them was drinking a coffee. Although the feed was showing events as they were, there was little of interests for now. That all changed in a few seconds.

“Sir!” one of the young agents almost yelled at his superior, startling him and making him spill his coffee.

“What is it,” the man quickly asked, looking with regret at his stained pants.

“I think you should see this sir, it’s like a Christmas tree!”

At this, the agent’s face went white. He knew what this meant. It was North Cavaleras all over again.

“Shit! Tactical data?”

“Target Allanea. Estimate…”

“What do we have in the are?” the agent asked, knowing all too well what the report was going to sound like.

“Several satellites from the ABM network and the usual surveillance sats,”came the swift reply.

“Damn!”

There was little The Principality could do, but now, unlike the previous event with North Cavaleras they had the ability to help, even if it was only a bit. There was no political stake here, no obligation that they needed to honour, just a desire to prevent another nuclear calamity to take place. With just a switch of a button, Damiran satellites engaged the incoming missiles.

OOC: I was really close to ignoring it.

IC:

Now, it was true some of the Allanean satellites were destroyed in orbit – a dozen or so ABM satellites, twenty or thirty observation arrays, and so on in this vein. But the main force remained capable of responding. Even as below, the Terran and Vetakan combat satellites tore the enemy rockets apart, the Allanean complement reoriented itself to defend the motherland.

The first to strike were the Aries ABM satellites. Fifty in number, those delivered immense amounts of Needler missiles (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12199686&postcount=108).

Dozens of amateur astronomers would enjoy the sight of the twelve hundred guided missiles as they streaked quietly through the dark skies, speeding towards the paths of the incoming nuclear missiles. For a few seconds, it may have seemed that they would miss altogether, or that the enemy warheads would split up into their constituent MIRV’s before the attack would be complete. And indeed, just before hitting their targets, they opened up – and showered their targets with a rain of deadly tungsten darts.

But the slaughter went on. Below, enemy missiles were being torn apart by Vetakan, Damiran, and Terran fire. But that didn’t mean that the Allanean second-tier defenses could do nothing to help. The Cyclops satellites reoriented to fire – well, only a sixty of them, focusing on MIRV’s aimed at the Allanean possessions in Northern Haven. If you were an amateur astronomer, you would not see the beam of the chemical laser traveling through space. It would seem as if the No Endorsian MIRV’s started exploding by magic.

From naval ships throughout the Haven seas, short-range Supersprint missiles were launched. Introduced after the Second Reich War, these were precision-guided by high-powered Linux computers to carry their killer cargo right into the midst of enemy missile formations.

Tactical nuclear munitions blew up in low orbit, smashing up dozens of MIRVs with neutron flux, vaporizing them with heat, throwing them off-course with explosions.

On Roanoke-Island, the ‘annoying nuclear artillery’ was defended by a thousand ABM missile batteries,. Only half of them needed to fire their payload. Far, far away from the encampments of the nuclear pulse cannon, the MIRV’s were torn apart by Allanean impactors.

In North Haven, the Allanean array of defenses was based on lasers. A thousand MDLS systems fired bursts several minutes long, swiping MIRV’s from the sky by the dozen. Surviving rockets were dealt with by old-tec S-400 launchers – spamming several thousand missiles in the course of two minutes. The two or three that survived were dealt with by Allanean Nautilus systems.

In San-Nereiana, another array of SuperSprint missiles was parked, and three hundred missiles were fired at once. The entire skies over the Strobovian Straights flashed in a sadistic imitation of a polar glow as the Allaneans destroyed the weapons aimed at their motherland.

But none of those terrible weapons were the key to the defense of Allanea. From Permanent Strategic Forts in Roanoke Island, in the Cloyster Coast, in Northern Haven, were fired 100 Universal Standard Anti-Ballistic Missiles of Allanea’s Last Chance program. Each of those was a large, unwieldy booster carrying four semi-guided missiles. Each of those missiles carried a megaton-yield warhead.

And the sky lit up red.

The very name of the Allaneans meant ‘overkill’ in the language of some nations. This was why.

But some Endorsian missiles were still in the air– those aimed at targets in the Allanean capital – outside the Haven region.

None could know that the Allanean mainland was protected by several hundred USABM rockets and thousands of air defense laser. None could know that there were 4,100 ABM missile and laser batteries dedicated to the defense of the capital alone – more then there were defending the entire Haven area.

This wasn’t even a contest.

Interestingly, however, even after it was all said and done, the Allaneans has no clue why they had been attacked. Neither President Goldwasser’s office nor Fieldmarshal Kazansky’s office used fax machines.

ooc: -_- My move was completely IC for my nation, and distances mean you have pleanty of time for counter attack, which humorously no one attempted. (Though I leave the option open) I do not retcon my post as I was invited into this conflict, I challenge Allanea's lack of taking damage, and if you have a problem, then ignore me and accept permanent reciprocation. I don't deal with those who are unable to deal with nuclear exchange.

I thank such people as Vetaka, Damirez, and Terra who have responded sensibly.

OOC: http://www.forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=530740

There's an OOC thread. Use it so we don't have to look at it.

IC:

Metzuda, Capital of Havenic Kahanistan

Defence Minister General Samarra Rakhmadi looked at her computer. What in Allah's name... a nuclear launch? At Allanea? She swore loudly. "Khara!" Shit. "Somebody's nuking Allanea."

"Nothing we can do here," said Lt. General Nikolas Constantakis. "We don't have enough ABM's to extend a shield over them. We barely have enough to weather a nuclear exchange if they go after us."

Rakhmadi swore again in Arabic. Millions of refugees were heading for Allanea, and if those missiles hit... it would be very bad for any ship caught in a blast.

Siege of North Freetown

The buzzing of the 37mm cannons and the chattering of of other heavy weapons drowned out all other noise; the occasional roar from an Imperator's 125mm gun created an almost musical effect amidst the symphony of destruction that was playing out before the outskirts of the shattered city that was North Freetown. The Doomani had plenty of ammunition to go around; for them, this was simply target practice in which the targets shot back.

With enemy numbers increasing, other weapons joined in: Legionaries equipped with Spiculum rocket propelled grenades began sending 105mm beehive rounds down into the human waves at a rapid rate, adding to the already tremendous amount of carnage unfolding before the Doomani lines. This was a slaughter that was unparalleled in modern warfare: one army had chosen to send human waves against a prepared defense, one which had artillery and air superiority as well as far heavier weapons.

Gas and shot choked the air; in front of the Doomani it was simply impossible to live for long: if you stood you'd be cut down by marksman; if you tried to move forward under cover you'd be torn to pieces by flechettes from the autocannons; if you attempted to lay prone, the gas deployed by the mortar shells, which by its nature was heavier than air, would fill your lungs and end your life within minutes (or seconds, depending on whether or not your NBC seal was comprimised).

Another Aquila sortie would deal with the remaining artillery pieces the same way that they had dealt with the others: small diameter bombs deployed from standoff distances, which would track their way towards the artillery via satellites to make sure they would not be able to run and hide. However, all commanders involved realized that North Freetown would fall far more quickly if ACID had totally free reign above the city. In order for that to happen, Kahanistani IRST systems would have to be neutralized.

A land-based IRST system capable of detecting high altitude aircraft would have to be fairly large; large enough to warrant a fixed installation. This would allow for Doomani satellites to locate them without much difficulty; marking the targets off after that for strike would be a simple matter. As this strike was being planned, a wing of forty-eight Candrian-designed ACI-22 (B-22) heavy strategic bombers began taking off from bases in Paralentum, heading southwards towards Kahanistan. They had loaded aboard these forty-eight bombers more than enough ordnance to reduce the remaining populated sectors of North Freetown to total ash, and intended to do so if the order was given.

Meanwhile, the strike against enemy sensor assets ensued. A squadron of Aquilae, once again armed with ACID's favorite general-purpose land attack weapon, the small diameter bomb, would be able to deliver their payloads from ranges up to sixty naughtical miles. Each aircraft had a total of sixteen small diameter bombs hanging from pylons on their wings as well as in their bays: the total lack of enemy RADAR meant that there was no reason not to do this.

The bombs would glide towards their distant targets, homing in on the coordinates via inertial referencing and GPS, and make their final approach via their guidance software and infrared imaging sensors, and plunge their warheads into the IRST arrays. In all likelihood, each IRST array would have multiple bombs headed towards it; ACID also made sure to target any lighter systems they could identify. A mobile land-based IRST wouldn't be very inconspicious and satellites most likely would not have a difficult time finding them: they would be a very real threat to low-altitude aircraft, and as such they were targetted as well. Anything surviving the strikes would be dealt with by Imperial artillery batteries, which would lob GPS-guided rounds at the positions until they had been erradicated.

Once it was confirmed that every marked IRST array had been neutralized, the bombers would be given the go-ahead to level the populated sections of the city.

However, Silvanus realized that there was a chance he could take the city without having to completely destroyed it: he ordered a communique to be broadcast to whoever was in command on the Kahanistani end of things (Ben Shaul in this case), bypassing his commanders at the city who would have loved nothing more then to punish the defenders by slaughtering every last man, woman, and child in the city.

Official Communique

To whomever commands the garrison of North Freetown,

My name is Legatus Propraetoris Silvanus, commander Caesar's mighty Third Army. It has become quite clear in the past hour that your situation has grown desperate beyond your means. I am willing to make you an offer to avoid further bloodshed by the people of North Freetown: in exchange for the immediate surrender of the city and garrison of North Freetown, I will garuntee the lives of every civilian and enlisted soldier currently residing within the city. This offer stands for the next ten minutes or until you make another hostile action.

However, know this: if you refuse my most generous offer, I will personally see to it that every man, woman, and child in the city is slaughtered. I will also ensure that any vessels attempting to escape the city will be hunted down without mercy. These terms are not negotiable. You may take them or leave them as you see fit; however, keep in mind that the safety of those under your protection rests with this decision. Nobody is coming to save you: this offer is the last chance you have to save the lives of your people. Think upon this; I trust that you value the lives of your women and children.

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Several thousand miles north, in the Paralentum Islands, a large force of fighters was being launched: these, however, were not destined for battle in Kahanistan. Rather, they were intended for use against the large armada of Allanean transports descending towards Kahanistan. In order to reach Kahanistan from their northernly positions, they would have to fly right by Paralentum and Doomani territory before they even had the chance to rendezvous with their escorts in the Cloyster Coast.

Paralentum itself was nothing short of a massive air and naval base: following the Questo-Doomani War of 2017, it had been massively fortified. It had been sight of one of the longest, bloodiest battles in Havenic history in which the main island's twenty-thousand strong Marine garrison had withstood a year's siege by a Questarian force that outnumbered them more than ten to one. After the war, the islands had been completely militarized to ensure no such incedent would need to occur again: thousands of fighters and bombers were based on the rather large island chain, and they were now being dispatched to engage the Allanean air armada.

One thousand ACI-77 Atratus air superiority fighters and some four thousand Aquilae were scrambled, in addition to their AWACS support. Air defenses on the island went on maximum alert and anti-air cruisers were deployed further from the islands to ensure that anything that slipped by the fighters would not go unchallenged. The Doomani were hell bent on killing every Allanean coming south.

The Atrati would make up the leading edge of battle: armed extensively with long and medium range air-to-air missile; each would be carrying eight ATAIM-10 long range missiles for engaging enemy transports and AWACS aircraft. The Aquilae would be loaded to the brim with six Sagitta medium-range air-to-air missiles for dealing with all of the fighters.

If the Allaneans wanted to have even the slightest chance of picking up inbound Doomani fighters, which, as they'd learned in past wars, possessed a rediculous degree of stealthy features, they would deploy their AWACS aircraft further towards the front of the formation; if they actualy did go this route, the Atrati would be the first to engage, loosing their ATAIM-10 missiles from ranges up to four hundred kilometers away. There would be three missiles tasked to each AWACS aircraft to ensure that there would be zero chance of them coming out alive. These would be tracked via their own RADAR emissions, and in the event the AWACS decided to turn their RADAR off, the missiles would interface with friendly satellites to find the general area of the enemy AWACS and proceed to the area, where it would then go terminal and find the aircraft with its own sensors. From there, the Atrati would drop back, allowing for the Aquilae to take up the slack: they would proceed to unleash a massive torrent of Sagitta missiles, engaging the Allanean fighters from ranges up to one hundred twenty nautical miles away. The Aquilae would not use their own RADAR to ensure the Allaneans would not be able to get a firing solution on them; instead they would rely on the RADAR of friendly AWACS aircraft to pick up on enemy formations, allowing for them to loose their missiles. The missiles would then reference with the AWACS to find their targets and then go terminal, hunting their targets with IIR and RADAR.

The Allanean NPG strike out of Roanoke had done far less damage than it could have; due to prior engagement with Kahanistani artillery, Doomani artillery knew to relocate every time they took a shot. As such, many of the NPG rounds missed their marks, although they did manage to inflict casualties in the rear areas. However, the Doomani now knew the locations of the Allanean NPGs: thirty-four Doomani NPGs immediately responded to their counterparts.

Firing from their subterranean bases in Damnatium, the massive 2000mm nuclear pulse guns targetted the Allananean nuclear pulse gun arrays on Roanoke Island. Most of the Allanean guns would have two of the massive shells hitting them at once, although two of the guns would be unfortunate enough to be on the recieving end of three. Following firing, the guns recessed back into their massive subterranean silos and moved down along the underground railway network that spanned Damnatium to new firing positions in case the Allaneans had anything to respond to the NPGs with.

However, in order to prevent that from happening, another strike was initiated: the Allaneans had repeatedly used orbital weaponry against the Doomani in the past. They had yet to do so in this war; however, the Doomani wanted to make absolutely sure they would not be able to even if they wanted to. Kinetic-based anti-satellite weapons were deployed against Allanean satellite weapons platforms. Thousands of brilliant pebbles-type weapons were unleashed, the tungsten kill vehicles streaking across space at extreme speed towards enemy satellites to ensure that nothing would escape. Allanean laser defenses would do little good against the kill vehicles, which were constructed primarily out of tungsten.

If it wasn't clear before it was now: the Doomani were by no means out of the war.

Colonel Ben Shaul was not the kind of man to surrender easily. He was deeply ashamed that he had handed over Eretz Yisrael, the most sacred Jewish soil, to the Doomani Catholic Nazis.

The colonel read the orders he had been given from headquarters after he had notified them of the suicide of General al-Assad. He was to assume the grade of Brigadier General and defend the city to the death, and save as many citizens as he could. Of course, the destruction of over 90% of his IRST, and the loss of tens of thousands of troops - and almost all of his surviving artillery - were going to make his life more difficult - and short, if he weren't already 43 years old.

The newly minted general wrote back to the Doomani, on a pad of old JDL stationery he had, complete with the fist symbol on the letterhead. He had no intention of negotiating with the Doomani, and surrender was not an option for such a shamed man.

---

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/3/32/JDLlogo.jpg

Shalom, son of Amalek.

Mr. Silvanus, I am General Avraham Eleazar ben Shaul, commander of this fortress city. As you may have already deduced, I am also a Jew.

As such, I know the Doomani propensity for killing all who are not Catholic. I will therefore reply to your most blasphemous offer with a quote from Rabbeinu* Meir Kahane, zatsal.**

"It is incumbent upon us to understand our greatness and believe in it so that we do not cheapen and profane ourselves."

We will not cheapen ourselves by bowing to terrorism. We will fight and defend ourselves and our wives and children to the last soul. In a moment of weakness, I faltered and allowed sacred Jewish land to fall into the hands of the children of Amalek. I will not falter again.


*Rabbeinu: "Our Rabbi." The Hebrew language denotes possessives by a suffix.
**Zatsal: An abbreviation for the Hebrew words zecher tzadik livracha, "May the memory of this righteous person be a blessing."

Silvanus crumbled the message in his hands and tossed it away in frustration. He was not too pleased at this; he'd been hoping for a swift surrender. In the past the Kahanistanis had buckled from threats to their civilians; such was not the case anymore. So be it; he would keep his word to the infidel. It seemed to Silvanus that his foe had finally grown a pair. Sighing, he yelled for his aid to bring him the phone. Looking at a large projection of live video feed of the city, he uttered a few words into the phone,

"Neca eos omnes; deus suos agnoscet."

Kill them all; God will know his own.

He hung the phone up and sat down, reclining in his seat as he watched the first of the bombers arrive over the city. He couldn't help but smile. Doing God's work brought with it a certain feeling of satisfaction. Hell was being unleashed.

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Siege of North Freetown

"NECA EOS OMNES; DEUS SUOS AGNOSCET!" Otho roared over the radio, repeating the orders that had been handed down to him.

On every single radioset in the Thirty-Eighth Legion those words reverberated; the Legionaries knew precisely what to do. They were to do precisely what they had come to Kahanistan to do: exterminate the unbeliever. Cries of Deus Vult filled the air as the men prepared for the impending assault. There was a general feeling of pure rage building up about the Doomani; for the past two days they had sat in their holes and waited for this moment. Now they would get to inflict brutal punishment upon those responsible for that irritance.

Before the bombers arrived over the city, the last of the static IRST installations found themselves on the recieving end of fire missions from Otho's 152mm howitzers to ensure the Kahanistanis wouldn't be able to inflict any casualties. Well aware that their foe may have RADAR in reserve to switch on once the bombers were over the city, Aquilae equipped with anti-radiation missiles would accompany the bombers to snuff out any sensors that made themselves known the instant they were switched on.

The engines of the armored personnel carriers and tanks were revved up just as the city began to light up in a dazzling series of fireballs as the bombers made their runs: each of the massive ACI-22 bombers had been packed to the brim with two-hundred eleven tons of fuel air explosives. In total, well over ten kilotons of fuel air explosives were being dumped into North Freetown: This alone would most likely be enough to raze what was left of the city to the ground and completely vaporize anyone hiding amidst the rubble, with the fuel slipping into shelters and basements before being ignited, literally crushing victims from sheer overpressure as well as completely incinerating them. The buildings within the city would be burned out and collapse in on themselves. Naturally, one of the bombers' flight path took it directly over North Freetown's defensive line, dropping its massive payload all along the line to vaporize its defenders and deprive it of life so that the Legionaries would be able to enter relatively unopposed.

There would be no glory for the defenders of North Freetown: only slaughter.

Even as the bombs continued to rain from the skies, the mortar bombardment recommenced on the defensive line: once again, Lues was used. This was a weapon especially suited to assaulting fortified entrenchments due to its heavier-than-air qualities, which meant that it would sink down and cluster inside trenches and bunkers, ensuring that the defenders would suffocate. Armored personnel carriers and tanks would lead the assault into the city, with infantry cautiously moving behind them.

However, something was different; the ground seemed to shake amidst the advance, and one watching the advance would notice a massive, hulking armored beast moving alongside the Doomani advance. Among the ZMI-built weapons the Imperial Army had acquired for the campaign were the dreaded Warsaw-class Heavy Weapons Conveyers: massive tracked platforms mounting a positively horrific amount of firepower. Each was suffecient to carry a full cohort of infantry with it in support, although in this case they were also supported by Imperator-II MBTs and Testudo-U APCs.

Five of these massive beasts would be spearheading the multi-pronged assault into the city from their different sectors, upon a foe who had never seen anything like this: never had the Doomani ever deployed such an audacious weapon. Silvanus was keeping his word: he was making sure that everyone was killed.

Meanwhile, the Sariel squadrons responsible for anti-shipping operations continued their campaign against the Kahanistani evacuation fleets operating out of North Freetown: as always, they would sit out of range of enemy detection and simply launch their superfast sea-skimming anti-shipping missiles at the enemy refugee convoys and slip away. The bomber squadron that had assaulted the harbor had also made another sortie: this had actualy been simultaneous with the airstrike by the ACI-22 wing. The vessels targetted had been enemy warships in the harbor as well as whatever refugee ships remained; once more, mines were deployed at the mouth of the harbor. However, these particular mines were magnetic: there would be no dodging for the enemy ships this time. There would be no escape from North Freetown now.

Very well...

All over the city, terrified men, women, children, even hardened marines, poured out of buildings that were on the verge of collapse, or jumped out of windows, despite their training not to. Rubble dotted the city, being swarmed upon by other soldiers and civilians setting up impromptu sniper and machine gun nests and rendering whatever aid (mainly palliative) they could for wounded civilians.

Underneath the city were dozens of small bunkers, reminiscent of those used by the Jewish resistance in Warsaw. These were often modified basements or bomb shelters connected through the sewer systems, and were well-stocked with grenades, assault rifles, rocket launchers, and anti-tank and anti-personnel mines. Surface-to-air missiles were present, though rare.

General Ben Shaul ordered that the radars not go on until they "could see the markings on the planes." This meant that the enemy air force was so concentrated that a brief barrage of missile fire (as could be expected given how long a RADAR net could last against this many ARM's) could inflict many casualties.

The "Warsaw-style" bunkers would offer little protection against Lues. However, the more sturdily-designed bomb shelters for the military, which had oxygen tanks supplying the air, would hold a little longer. Soldiers herded civilians into these bomb shelters, mainly the old, infirm, and small children, as most others would rather take up arms and die fighting or try to flee. The smaller bunkers were mainly used for defence in the event of an invasion and those who had put their lives in them would die quickly...

The Republic Navy had commenced withdrawal from North Freetown, abandoning the few evacuation ships still in the area, and the doomed city was left in the hands of Ben Shaul, who followed an archaic political ideology and could be relied upon to fight to the death and suck Doomani troops away from more important fronts.

Ben Shaul quickly learned not to have his troops lay low. Many survivors, probably less than 20,000 fighting men and women by now, clambered to the tops of mounds of rubble, where the Lues was weakest.

In his command bunker, with his staff, the general laid his sword down and prayed.

"Yitgadal v'yitkadash sh'me rabba, balma divra chiruteh, v'yamlich malchuteh..." Exalted and sanctified is the great name of the Lord, in the world which he has created according to his will, and may he establish his kingdom...

The general continued to pray the Kadish until the sounds of battle broke his concentration.

OOC: Kahanistan, into MSN, please.

OOC: The aircraft from the North are escorted independently, read my old post.

IC:

Task Force North

Gina Sairthworthy was among the first Allaneans to die. She did not know it yet. All she knew so far was that she was flying her Lu-27A “Bald Eagle” (the Allanean license-produced version of the Condor) down South, past Paralentum. Next to her were her comrades – an entire squadron of Allanean pilots, and a dozen of cargo aircraft.

“Silly Simon, this is Sassy Sheena, what do you plan to do once the war is done? Over.”

“Sheena, this is Simon. Probably park my bird and go get piss-drunk, and then put you over a barrel, rip your pants the hell off and... what the fuck?”

The screens on their computers flickered red. SATTELITE CONNECTION BREAKING.

“Damn it!” - for a second, coverage of the channel was gone as enemy “brilliant pebbles” hit numerous Allanean Thor sattelites. Some sattelites survived of course, due to the presence of Dartian missile defense apparatus aboard – but the foul deed was done, Allaneans would not be able to use ortillery on the Doomani in the next few hours – every combat sattelite over Haven was either dead, empty of ammunition, or being diverted elsewhere.

Seconds later, the connection was restored – along with feed from numerous orbital RADAR sats. Warning, warning inbound enemy contacts, inbound enemy contacts.

High-resolution optical feed and radar feed fom orbit came in with the first warning of enemy aircraft. Produced by slave labor, Shukusei/Atratus used by Doomingsland were not as stealthy as the Doomani would like them to be – but that did not mean they could yet be targeted.

Near Gina's squadron, a single cargo aircraft began to dump its cargo – not troops or ammunition, but massive amounts of chaff. Everywhere along the path of the Allanean aircraft giant, silvery, crescent-shaped clouds of aluminium appeared, confusing enemy RADAR and targeting arrays. Decoy flares and RADAR decoys were deployed from both fighter aircraft and cargo planes – a lot of which were loaded with chaff and decoys instead of cargo – to confuse IR and RADAR readings, even as the Allanean fighter aircraft were largely stealthy – quite as stealthy as an Aquila, at least.

The ATAIM rockets hit first. Even despite the chaff and countermeasures, the Allanean craft were decimated and almost literally iterally so.

“Fire!”

The Doomani anti-aircraft missiles were still in the air when the Allaneans fire their own medium-range missiles - MTAAM-3 Silencer (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=8600838&postcount=23) rockets, capable of 'spamming' an area of ten kilometers around the site of impact with shrapnel.

But for Gina and many other pilots this would be meaningless – Doomani missiles began to impact among the Allanean cargo, ASF, and general purpose fighter aircraft, reaping a harvest of death. Hundreds of pilots, thousands of personnel died with died within minutes.

South Freetown

“Glory to the Messenger!”

The first aircraft to set up for landing was not, as a matter of fact, a military aircraft. It was a private BE-2500, painted in dark blue, its wings and fuselage marked with the Icon of the Necrontyr. Within minutes, several LY-219 vehicles began to roll off the aircraft. The first vehicle, an Immolator flamer vehicle, carried a blessed icon – a portrait of the Lady Miriel nos Feanor, the patron saint of the Order of Our Queen's Might.

“Glory eternal to Him and Our Queen!” - replied several Sisters of Liberty as the vehicles began toget off the runway to make way for more and more landing craft. Outside the airport, on the beaches near South Freetown, army BE-2500 aircraft and Ouroboros planes from mainland Allanea were landing, spouting forth thousands of Airborne troops, mechanized infantry, IFV's and AA vehicles.

“Alpha, this is Delta-Five, I have battery operational.”

Suddenly, tactical maps around South Freetown were lighthing up as dozens of AA vehicles joined the Kahanistani support network. One mechanized infantry division, eight airborne and one armored division were delivered by the first wave of aircraft from mainland Allanea – and many, many more were coming.

“Alpha, this Theta-Nine, ready to lock and load.”

The first Allanean MTHEL battery came alive on the very beach of South Freetown, RADAR scanning the skies for enemy rockets. Elsewhere, suport troops and Sisters of Liberty worked together to erect runways, to erect fortifications, to set up tents for incoming troops – and to fill aircraft with refugees as they went home.

New Gomorrah

“Preparing for landing. Repeat, preparing for landing.”

Hundreds and hundreds of cargo aircraft began to set up to land in the desert, using rapidly-cleared sandy runways to get down. Here, too, the situation mirrored that West Kahanistan – although far less troops so far were available. Only three armored divisions and a single Airborne division could be delivered to the area – but all knew more would come.

“This is Jackie Knife to Kahanistani air command, do you read me? I need a clear runway, repeat, clear runway...”

Dozens of stealth fighters began to set up for landing around New Gomorrah's military airfields, preparing to refuel and rearm, just as the navy ships were making their way towards the shores of Kahanistan.

“This is Fanny Kaplan, do you read me? Fanny Kaplan, I need a runway near Metsuda please...”

Near Metsuda, ten Wellington troop carriers landed, each carrying 150 Sisters of Liberty. And yet, that was only the beginning...

Attention Doomani personnel. This is Kazansky speaking. Even as we speak, thousandds of Allied troops are preparing to sweep you from the land. But, as a servant of our Queen, I will be merciful. Surrender now and you will be allowed to live.

South Freetown

The city was locking down as civilians were crammed like sardines onto whatever cargo ship was available. This ensured as many civilians as possible could escape, but it also meant that an anti-shipping missile would reap many casualties even if it failed to sink the ship. If the ship did sink, Lord forbid, it would claim far more lives than usual.

Unlike North Freetown, this city was not to be abandoned to the enemy - it was the last road out of the country for those who would rather not die at the hand of the Doomani. Already, shipping out of North Freetown had ground to a halt. In South Freetown, the navy was concentrated and determined to protect the refugees, and prevent any naval landing there.

---

New Gomorrah

"This is Lieutenant General Hassan Khalid, commander of this city's defences. There is an acceptable runway 4.3 kilometres NNW of our current position. You may land there."

Only about 40 frigates guarded this lone area of the sea, and they were mainly there to delay the enemy landings long enough to truck supplies into the capital for a last-ditch battle. There was a well-hidden battery of 200 Khans, which would launch at the enemy should these frigates be overrun, but Kahanistan was not going to contest naval domination of the Strobovia Strait.

Siege of North Freetown

Blood will sterilize...

As enemy RADAR installations began to switch on, the outgoing signals were picked up by the escorts, who immediately loosed ARMs to snuff them out. The Kahanistani strategy was flawed in one major way: even if they could get their RADAR on for a short while, getting a lock was by no means an instantaneous operation; if anything, the ARMs would have a jump on the RADAR sights. In addition, the highly sofisticated jamming equipment aboard the ACI-22 bombers meant that gaining a lock would be an even slower affair.

The bombers themselves were by no means clustered together, either, and at the altitudes they were flying, the Kahanistanis would have trouble even knowing when to turn their RADARs on in the first place.

As a result, the bombers continued their bombing runs as planned: more than ten kilotons of fuel air explosives were dumped on the defenders of North Freetown. All in all, everyone on the ground was at severe risk, especially those that had foolishly clambered to the tops of the rubble piles: the overpressure from the explosions would instantly crush those who'd taken to the top to avoid the gas, giving them no time to take cover; even those that did take cover would simply be vaporized by the flames.

Those that had taken shelter in the "Warsaw bunkers" wouldn't be safe either: the gas from the fuel air bombs would seep into the shelters and ignite, causing horrific overpressure within those confined spaces that would result in an excruciating death for those trusting their lives in the fortifications; anyone that somehow survived that would be cooked alive by the flames, or simply have the oxygen sucked from their lungs. All in all, Silvanus had ensured that not only would everyone die: they would die horrific, agonizing deaths.

As the bombs were walked up the main defensive line, Imperial troops began to move into the area to prepare for the final assault on the city: armored personnel carriers and tanks took up firing positions overlooking the line. The Testudo-Us let loose a horrific barrage from their 37mm boxer guns, raking the trench line with their large flechette-shot rounds to make sure there would not be so much as a dismembered soldier living within the confines of the trenches by the time the infantry began to enter.

The infantry moved in to secure the area, moving from cover to cover, supported by the heavier vehicle-mounted weapons. Once the lines were secured, the massive Warsaw-class Heavy Weapons Conveyers would begin to roll into the city, each supported by no less than five hundred infantry and a dozen tanks and IFVs.

Meanwhile, orbital ground-penetrating RADAR mapped out the bunker networks of the city and began pinpointing the better-protected ones: that is to say, the military bunkers where the civilians had been packed into. Once the advance was initiated in earnest, detachments of mechanized infantry would be deployed to take those bunkers...and exterminate those within their confines. After the air assault, those were most likely the only places where anyone was still alive...

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Satellite intellegence had already alerted the High Command to the movement of Allanean aircraft into the theatre; it wasn't long before they picked up on the landing zones for the massive Ouroborii. Silvanus did not want to have to deal with Allanean numerical superiority; not at the moment anyway. As a result, he managed to get a massive strike approved on the airfields with strategic assets based on the mainland.

Four hundred Unity Guns would be taking part in the bombardment: their payloads would be their massive 33.3" shells, this time equipped with munitions dispensors. Each shell would split into four seperate dispensors, which would further separate over the target before splitting open, ensuring total saturation. Munitions included explosively formed penetrators as well as fragmentation munitions: with a flight time of around eleven minutes for the shells, the Allaneans would have very little time to get troops off of their transports before the rounds started hitting the landing zones and the surrounding area.

It was a very appetizing target, indeed: hundreds of transports and thousands of troops would be concentrated in a relatively small area, ensuring that cluster munitions would have an astounding effectiveness. Explosively formed pentrators would shred the enemy aircraft and armored vehicles while fragmentation munitions would make mincemeat of enemy personnel as well as render the aircraft further inoperable.

If anything, the Allaneans would have very little warning of the incoming shells: their satellite network had taken quite a beating by the previous attacks, and most likely would not even realize the shells were coming until it was too late. Each gun would fire a total of four times over the next hour, relocating after every shot; if the Allaneans managed to clear the landing zones during that time, the guns would adjust fire, firing into the areas they had fled to with whichever kind of munitions were deemed appropriate: penetrating high explosive rounds for neutralizing troops in bunkers and buildings, cluster munitions for units in the open.

All in all, it was not going to be a good first day for the Allaneans.

OOC: I wasn't sure whether or not to continue that air battle or whether we decided it was over, so I'll plug that in later if I need to.

Metzuda

"Should we help?" asked Lt. General Constantakis. "General Ben Shaul is really taking a beating. He reckons over 70% of his troops have been killed or wounded. Knowing him, probably more than that - he's got a habit of deflating his body count."

"No," said Defence Minister General Rakhmadi. "I'm not risking troops to help that fundidiot. He's serving his purpose, and saving who he can."

To most generals, this was a disgraceful way to think. It was considered shameful and obscene to abandon a commander to certain death.

"I'll order him to destroy the port, though. Hopefully, he's got a few bombs or something he can get onto the port, keep Doomani ships from landing there..."

---

North Freetown

General Ben Shaul received the orders to destroy the port. There were 25 kilotons of thermobaric ordnance buried underneath the port facility, a last-ditch measure to destroy a strategic asset in the event of its being overrun by the enemy. Thermobaric ordnance was used for this purpose to avoid the escalations often triggered by smaller nuclear devices. (Some enemies would escalate even if the nuclear device was detonated on the territory of the invaded, rather than that of the invader.) However, someone had to still be alive to trigger the bomb...

The general and two surviving commanders inserted keys into a command console deep within the bunker. A thirty-minute countdown started, which would allow personnel to escape (if there were any - there weren't), the threat to be neutralised, and the command to be canceled... or destroy the port if need be.

As surviving machine gunners fired on their enemies (supporting infantry, rather than vehicles), and sniper rounds raked from rubble piles (mainly targeting officers), whatever surviving soldiers there were received orders to fall back, and protect the bunkers with their lives. General Ben Shaul had no experience with the Doomani method of warfare, and it could be argued he was foolish for attempting the defence without a decent SEPS or THEL array, but he had been told to defend the city to the death or until the Allaneans came...

North Freetown

Those units that had been surprised by enemy sniper and machinegun fire ended up taking light casualties; the snipers did the most damage, generally felling their target provided it was a head shot, although the machinegunners were slightly less effective against the well-armored and drilled infantry, who immediately sought cover against the enemy machineguns and allowed their supporting vehicles to snuff out the threat.

However, even the snipers faced immediate suppression: following the bloody insurgency that had taken place in the Negev following the First Kahanistani Crusade, the Doomani had adapted. Vehicles now carried infrared bullet trackers, allowing for them to immediately pinpoint the locations of enemy snipers after the first shot: the results were painfully obvious to the Kahanistani defenders.

As soon as a sniper would take a potshot and bag himself a Trenturion or Decurion, or a Centurion if he was really lucky, a hundred or so 37mm high explosive incindiery rounds would impact his position in under a second. The same happened to the machinegun nests; urban warfare was something the Doomani excelled in, and this was partially the fault of the Kahanistanis themselves.

As Doomani infantry and vehicles closed in on the bunkers the surviving Kahanistani soldiers had hunkered down in, they would take up firing positions: they were throwing everything at those bunkers. Thermobaric rounds from their Spiculum rocket propelled grenades, disgusting amounts of 37mm ammunition from the Testudos, aimed rifle fire and suppressing machinegun fire, 40mm grenade machineguns, even the occasional 125mm HESH round from an Imperator.

Finally, the mortar rounds began to fall: laced with Lues, the shells would choke the air and finish off what remained of the defenders, hopefully leaving the bunkers open for the Legionaries, who would then take up positions outside of the entrances and prepare to storm them and commence their long-awaited slaughter of the innocent...

Meanwhile, Silvanus gave Alexius the go-ahead: Otho would be allowed a day or so to sack the town following confirmation that everyone had been killed, but Alexius was to renew the overall offensive on the strategic level. In only three days, the Doomani had effectively siezed one of Kahanistan's largest cities along with several hundred kilometers of surrounding land and was on the verge of a massive inland push with their armored forces. The war was proceeding well ahead of schedule.

Within minutes, the city looked bare from the outside, a moonscape of dead corpses, blood-stained Doomani, and underground, out of sight, in the bunkers beneath the city, General Ben Shaul, his staff, and about 1,500 surviving troops, remained underground, protecting the civilians.

They knew it was only a matter of time before they were found, and then they would fight to the death...

Siege of North Freetown

Ground penetrating RADAR from the satellites had already located the bunkers and their entrances; squads of Doomani infantry supported by tanks and IFVs took up position outside of them to allow for them to kill anyone attempting to flee within the next few minutes. A strike group out of Northford consisting of six Sariels was dispatched. Their payload: bunker busting munitions. However, learning from past conflicts with the Kahanistanis, the Doomani knew to be extra thorough when cleansing the bunkers.

These particular bunker busters were actualy neutron bombs: nothing inside of the bunkers would survive. The radiation inside would disappate soon enough, and the Doomani would be able to occupy them within a week or two but for the next few hours, the underground beneath the city would resemble hell: a subterranean oven, an inferno in which all who resided would perish in an agonizing death.

The soldiers hunkered down outside of the bunkers, checking their NBC seals to make sure what little radiation that may leak out of the entrances would not do much harm to them. A single bomb was assigned to each bunker complex to minimize the likelihood of leakage. The very nature of the bombs meant that this was unlikely. It was almost perfect as a bunker busting weapon: the immense amount of radiation produced by the neutron bombs would be trapped within the bunkers, literally melting everyone inside of them alive.

The Legionaries on the ground watched as the bombers made their pass overhead, their bunkerbusters flying straight and true into the ground. There was a low rumbling as the bombs went off...

This was not Metzuda.

Most of the bunkers were only five to ten metres underground, compared to the ten-metre civilian bunkers in the capital, or the 400-metre defence bunkers where people would be herded in the event of a nuclear attack.

As such, while these bunkers were insulated against radiation, there was little insulating against heat - the bunkers became crematory ovens out of which poured those who were not instantly incapacitated. For some of the elderly Jews, grim images of HaShoah - the Holocaust - would be summoned. Some had weapons fused to their hands by the immense heat, reaching for their pistols with which to kill themselves. Others ran into the hails of enemy fire. Yet a few shot at the Doomani.

Only General Avraham Eleazar ben Shaul remained calm. He knew this day had to come, when he was to die in battle as punishment from HaShem for allowing sacred Jewish soil to be taken by the cruelest and most evil people on the face of the Earth - the Doomani Catholic Nazis.

From near the front of the bunker, he walked out, a sword in one hand, an M-67 battle rifle in the other. He was in his 40's, Jewish, bearded, and with a kippah over his helmet. He was about average height and of thick, muscular frame, and bore numerous combat scars, wounds, and chemical burns. His face was largely expressionless, except for a serene smile. He was resigned to death in battle.

Silently, he prayed to HaShem to forgive him as he raised his weapon...

Highly Protected Message
TO: Caesar Maximus III
FROM: Emperor Conrad II
RE: Support

Greetings Caesar Maximus III,
I would like to inform you that my forces are moving across the Strobovia Strait to support your assault on Kahanistan, and, if necessary, we will continue onwards after this operation to support you against Gholgothan forces attacking your mainland. I am almost positive that these forces will massively shorten the conquest of Kahanistan, and in turn will free Doomani forces for the home front. It is Zukariaa's goal to see that no Gholgothan presence remains in Haven but at the bottom of the sea or beneath a ditch. We are on good terms, and I hope that you will trust myself and my forces, despite your recent betrayal by would-be allies.

http://www.maj.com/gallery/Humhum/lolz/kaiser_konrad_ii_profile.png
Signed, Emperor Conrad II
Emperor of Zukariaa
---
Highly Protected Message
TO: Legatus Propraetoris Silvanus
FROM: Anateros-Strategos Iphleko Memnotus
RE: Support

Greetings Legate Silvanus,
On behalf of the Emperor and Zukariaa, I would like to inform you, myself, that Zukariaa stands by the Doomani in this war. We shall help you where we are needed, simply ask it. My force of some 350,000 men and a significant armoured detachment will be of much use to you, and will help you in reaching your strategic goals. It is our hope that your forces will be quickly freed for the fight at home, and that means that the end of the Kahanistan theatre must come to an end as quickly as possible. As well, I would like to inform you that the esteemed Admiral of the Fleet, Pime Taradox, is willing to support Doomani forces at sea.

http://www.maj.com/gallery/Humhum/HavenMapz/iphlekosmemnotus.png
Signed, Anateros-Strategos Iphleko Memnotus
Field Marshall of the Kahanistan Theatre Army

OOC- Sorry for short post of relative crappiness. I'm waiting for 3 days to pass before I reach Kstan.

Siege of North Freetown

Discens Leontis crouched hidden just a few meters from the entrance of the bunker; a comrade was directly adjacent to him on the other side of the entrance, with the rest of the squad in firing positions further back. Leontis and the man across from him, Iphitus, had spent the past few minutes siezing prisoners as they came out of the bunker; for propaganda purposes, Otho had wanted captives to parade before television cameras in celebration of his victory in North Freetown: everytime a Kahanistani would burst out of the entrance, their squad leader, Decurion Severin would decide whether or not they were worth taking. A horrifically burned individual would be killed outright; furthermore a Kahanistani that looked like he could put up a fight, such as those that strode out fully armed to put up some final resistance would simply be shot in the head before they even stepped outside of the bunker.

However, those that stumbled out blindly and uncoordinated would generally be shot in the legs and dragged off to the side by Leontis and Iphitus; a team operating out of a CMPL would take them to the holding area from there. Now a voice crackled in Leontis' helmet:

"Looks like an officer...general, bunker entrance. Must be their CO. Take him," Severin said calmly.

From behind his visor Leontis grinned. Taking this guy alive would do much to futher the Crusade. Ben Shaul took a few steps out of the bunker before the others opened fire: the riflemen aiming into the bunker itself each took shots at both of Ben Shaul's arms to ensure he couldn't put up a fight; Iphitus moved to make sure nobody came out of the entrance at an inoppurtune time, and Leontis, coming from behind, swiftly struck his foe with the butt of his rifle to knock him out, landing the blow literally within milliseconds of the shots being fired to ensure Ben Shaul wouldn't have time to bite down on a suicide tablet if he had one...

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Somewhere in Northford

Silvanus was very impressed with Otho. He'd given the man two weeks to take the city; he'd done it in three days. This put him well ahead of schedule; however, there were some problems. Northfordian and Kriegos aid was not coming anymore, as both had pulled out of the war, which effectively threw a wrench in the original operational plan. However, the Northfordians hadn't totally abandoned him: he was still recieving full logistical support and basing for his aircraft, in addition to some 350,000 regulars to add to his command along with air support from the Northfordian Air Force.

On the other end, it looked like the Kriegos weren't going to be withdrawing from southern Kahanistan anytime soon, and so enemy troops would remain tied up down there. However, Silvanus was going to require sheer numbers to accomplish his strategy. Thankfully, his request for reinforcements from the mainland was approved: two million Imperial Guardsmen were now slated for deployment in Kahanistan. Unfortunately for the Kahanistanis, the Freekish Navy had failed to block the Doomani east coast, and as a result they'd be able to continue to ship in fresh reinforcements for the rest of the war.

In the meantime, there was now the promise of Zukariaan aid: these troops would indeed come in handy in the coming conflict, hopefully throwing the Kahanistanis and their Allanean and Midlonian allies off-balance in the eastern sector.

For now, however, Silvanus ordered his troops to dig in. A large perimeter had been established in northwestern Kahanistan, which would allow reinforcements to pour into the country unopposed. His next major offensive would not come for some time, however; when it did happen, it was going to be positively massive. In the meantime, Silvanus ordered Sidonius and ACID to continue to conduct air operations against the Kahanistani Republic and their allies. Before he kicked off his offensive, he wanted every single major city in the country to lay in ruins.

For now, another wing of forty-eight bombers would be deployed from Paralentum, with others waiting for the go-ahead to commence a full-scale extermination. Theatre assets would join them when they got close enough. For Sidonius, this would be a probing operation to see just how competant the air defenses in the Kahanistani cities were...

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Several Thousand Miles North of Paralentum

The Allaneans were mistaken if they believed Imperial Aerospace used cheap slave labor to manufacture its aircraft; they used highly skilled, payed citizen labor instead, to ensure that they produced the highest quality product possible. As a result, the Atratus and Aquila were, in fact, as stealthy as the Doomani would like.

As a result, when the Atrati broke off after firing and the Allanean missiles cruised towards them, the terminal RADAR of the Silencer missiles had an extremely difficult time seeing their targets; casualties were only taken due to the immense size of the warhead, which pockmarked their victims with shrapnel and comprimsed their RCS, allowing for some of the missiles to achieve locks on a few of the more unlucky aircraft.

Meanwhile, the Aquilae were fully commited to battle: they'd gotten the jump on their foe and thus had a massive advantage, which had allowed them to loose thousands of medium range missiles in the space of a few seconds. The Aquilae (which were, in fact, stealthier than the Allanean fighters), keeping with Doomani tactics, loosed their payloads, which would head towards their targets via AWACS RADAR and then continue on via terminal RADAR and IIR (which would ensure that countermeasures would be relatively useless) before completely breaking formation and scattering in all directions to render the enemy response far more ineffective than it would have been, giving very little reference for the enemy missiles, which would have alot of trouble locking on to the Aquilae anyway due to the sheer stealthiness of the design.

However, the sheer amount of Allanean missiles meant that a decent amount of Aquilae were shot down.

Now the Doomani were going to evaluate the damage they'd inflicted; the fighters pulled back slightly to give their AWACS time to evaluate what was left of the enemy formation. The fighters still had a good amount of close-range weapons, and soon enough the Allaneans would stray into the range of the air defense cruisers. Task Force North would not be reaching Kahanistan...

The general did not have a suicide tablet - suicide is frowned upon in Orthodox Judaism, especially the extremist version to which he adhered. He did know the Jewish martial art of Krav Maga (basic training to all Kahanistanian soldiers, and known by many civilians), however, and would have had no trouble taking on a larger Doomani in a stand-up brawl, but he was exhausted and his reflexes were slowing due to fatigue and loss of morale. As such, he was easily captured...

[
New Sodom

Aircraft continued to pour into the city. This time, shipment of men and ammunition came in from Roanoke Island – a mere two armored divisions this time, and a thousand Boy Scouts. It remained to be seen whether the Allaneans would succeed in resupplying themselves on time to the point of defeating the Doomani. But one thing was sure – in some ways, they had already succeeded.

As the Allanean aircraft left, they evacuated six million Kahanistani with the same kind of casual ease with which a muscular Allanean Marine breaks the neck of a communist guerilla. Around South Freetown and New Sodom, a shield of air defenses and MTHEL was raised, and Allanea was only beginning.

And in South Freetown, the soldiers were already preparing to fight.

* * *

“Airborne!” - barked Sergeant Kowalski, looking with sadistic glee at the squad spread out in front of him.

“The Midlonian vermin have betrayed us! Yes, they said the will be deploying… later. We all know that this ‘later’ means, right, boys?”

There was an explosion of terrible swearing.

“Cocksucking, needledick communists!”

“Well, people, here’s the thing. The only thing between the Doomani and ownership of this continent is us Airborne. The Kahanistani don’t count. There are about two hundred thousand Doomani and eighty thousand airborne. As such, the Doomani are screwed.”

“Yeah! True there, Sarge! Let’s go fuck them up!”

“Okay guys, this is your mission. Go into the city. There must be thousands of cars, motorcycles – these are best – left over by the Kahanistani. Go and take them, spread out over a wide area so bombing you to fuck becomes unviable – and then leave the vehicles once you’re within 20 miles of the Doomani line. Use your optical camo to mesh with the desert. Go. For our Queen and the Fieldmarshal!””

“Yes, Sir! Air-borne Glory Forever!

* * *

Once the enemy air defense cruisers were noticed, the Allanean cargo aircraft and the surviving fighter craft turned towards Cloyster Coast, deftly avoiding running into the enemy trap.

* * *

“Hey Donner. It’s Alex speaking. I need your help. I need to rent your airforce. Yes, all of it. No, I’m not crazy. Get every Ouroboros, cargo heli, what have you to San Nereiana, we have work to do. I will provide air cover with ASF’s, but you need to actually get my boys there. You will be paid well. Really, really well.”

Star Office

"The Allaneans want us to do what?" Tsar Xavier scoffed at his Foreign Minister and tossed the message into the bin. "I will not sacrifice one Dersconi soldier to defend the scourge of humanity that is Kahanistan." Minister Kabanov shook his head.

"I agree with you, but Allanea needs Kahanistan as a buffer, and really, Doomingsland is no friend of Prussia." Xavier thought for a moment, and smiled.

"True. And, if we're fighting in Kahanistan, we don't have to worry about collateral damage at all, since no Dersconi will cry over a few million dead Kahanistani. Tell the Allaneans we will deploy where they need us. Make sure they understand, though, we will not be their meat shields."

As the bomber flight passed through Northfordian airspace, it was joined by several squadrons of Aquilae who would act as escorts to their target. In addition to these, a further eight Sariels would be joining the missions, laden with their own sinister payload. Their target lay not towards the vastly more heavily defended south, but to the north where the Republic Air Force had been routed three days earlier, leaving the path open for ACID to have free reign over targets on the ground.

Coming straight out of Northford and directly southwards towards their target, the city of Dar-Al-Babil, the Aquilae surged ahead of the slower bombers while they were still over friendly territory. With Kahanistani RADAR switched off, they'd have no early warning as to the approach of those aircraft anyway; however, ACID was going to make sure that no bombers would be lost in the ensueing raid.

Some of the Aquilae were once more packed to the brim with small diameter bombs; intellegence regarding the location of enemy IRST arrays had already been gathered, and from a standoff range of sixty nautical miles, they dumped off their payload: there would be multiple bombs heading towards each IRST array. If any survived after that, they'd simply put another bomb into it, but the bombers would not dare attempt to penetrate the airspace while the IRST arrays remained online.

Meanwhile, the bombers, once it had been confirmed that all of the IRST arrays were down, would penetrate the city's airspace: once more, Aquilae accompanying the bombers would be equipped with ARMs, allowing for them to immediately snuff out enemy RADAR when it activated (were the Kahanistanis to activate their RADAR immediately after the IRST arrays started to go down, the ARM equipped Aquilae would surge ahead and make the most of the situation, attacking the RADAR before the bombers even arrived).

However, when all was clear, the bombers would make their run: they would unleash the equivelent of over ten kilotons of fuel air explosives on the city of Dar-Al-Babil to completely raze it to the ground. Once more the fuel would seep into shelters and basements, burning all, and collapsing and burning out the buildings. This would likely drive the local population into the better equipped underground shelters. That is where the Sariels would come in: these eight bombers were each equipped with a full payload of bunker-busting neutron bombs. With the enemy bunkers already mapped out with ground-penetrating RADAR, the bombers need only dump off their payloads.

Once more, the bombs would descend to the surface, burrowing into the ground and driving into the bunkers where their nuclear warheads would detonate: the ensueing radiation would be trapped in the confines of the bunker, turning it into a superheated oven, cooking alive all who resided inside. Anyone within the bunker at the time of detonation would, of course, be exposed to fatal doses of radiation, and even if they managed to escape would soon die a slow, agonizing death. It would be another few weeks before anyone could reoccupy the bunkers after that.

If it wasn't clear before, it certainly was now: the Doomani were striving for a full-scale depopulation of Kahanistan. They were attempting to kill every man, woman, and child they could get within range of.

Meanwhile, two legions, the Twenty-First and Twenty-Ninth, armored and mechanized respectively, moved out of the North Freetown Perimeter, as it was called, and began a mad dash towards Dar Al-Babil, while the Seventeenth, Four-Ninety Eigth, and Forty-Sixth began moving southwards to keep the bulge from getting too large. They were, in effect, expanding the perimeter, slowly but surely. The other legions were held in reserve at the perimeter and at the city.

In all cases, they were staying within ACID's air umbrella. Any enemy aircraft attempting to hault the advance would have to contend with hundreds of Aquilae and Atrati.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Unfortunately for the fleeing transports, the Doomani had already thought to have the cruisers deployed in a line extending out from the islands; as a result, there was no way around them without getting into the range of their deadly Angelus surface-to-air missiles. The Questarian-built Mogami cruisers lit up their RADAR and VLS respectively, targetting the Allanean transports with ease; from ranges exceeding 500km, the hypersonic missiles exploded out of their launch tubes, rocketing into the heavens towards their distant targets.

Roughly four missiles had been assigned to each of the transports to ensure that none would make it to the Cloyster Coast intact. If the Allaneans managed to get past them, the Mogamis had shorter-ranged missiles that were also capable of targetting the enemy transports.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Occupied North Freetown

Otho surveyed the handiwork of his men. Already there were defensive fortifications and barracks under construction; ditches had been dug and pallisades firmly planted at the bottom. Upon the tops of the stakes, the severed heads of the defeated garrison had been mounted. Enourmous mounds of bodies could be seen throughout the city. The Doomani had quickly gathered the dead into piles and set them ablaze to do away with them as quickly as possible, knowing that many of them were likely chemical contaminated.

The few prisoners that had been taken were dragged before Otho and forced to kneel.

Their hands had been bound behind their backs, although many of them already had broken arms at the hands of their abusive captors. By now several of the prisoners had already met grizzly deaths at the hands of the furious Doomani, who'd done things such as disembowel or flay their prisoners alive.

Those few that remained, however would also meet gruesome deaths: Otho knew full well that most of them had no doubt recieved fatal doses of radiation and would expire before the next morning. As such, he was going to make their last few moments on Earth the most terrifying they had ever faced.

At his signal, the prisoners were forced to their feet and dragged to the wooden Stars of David and crescent moons that the Lucinian airmen had been crucified upon; those bodies had already been removed and given honorable areas. Cackling sadistically, the Doomani replaced the bodies. One by one, the Kahanistanis were nailed to what they had intended as a mockery of a Doomani method of execution. The Doomani were now making a mockery of their mockery: while the Kahanistanis had slaughtered their captives out of pure fury at the deaths of their sons, daughters, husbands, wives, mothers, and fathers, the Doomani were killing the Kahanistanis for the sake of sadistic pleasure.

All of this was recorded live by video cameras, and appeared in stark contrast to the funerals that the Doomani had been taped giving the Lucinians. It first showed the discovery and removal of the bodies, and subsequently the retribution for the dishonorable deaths inflicted on those men; a perfect propaganda coup in Doomanum.

Ben Shaul was made to watch as his men were crucified one after another. He'd recieved the best medical treatment for his radiation exposure and would likely last another week alive; he would, however, be executed the following dawn at Otho's command.

OOC:I probably forgot to address something but I'll deal with it later...I gotta head out now.

Official Message to Random Kahanistani Individuals Scattered Throughout The Nation

Under attack by evil religious fanatics? Can't wait for international peacekeepers to arrive and evacuate you to a neutral nation? Or just plain scared of dying? Well, fear no more! The Acme Corporation is pleased to introduce its latest project, Quik 'n' E-Z Refugees®! For a nominal fee, our flights will fly you and your family to anywhere you wish. No hassle! No overcrowding! Just say the word and we'll land at whatever airfield you tell us.* Take whatever you like with you.** Acme. We're here to help.™

This message brought to you by the Acme Corporation, proudly serving customers since 1874.

* Does not apply to contested airfields or airfields within 40 km of a combat zone.
** Transportation security laws regarding weapons, flammables, and other items may apply. No pets allowed. Total sum of personal goods may not exceed 20 kg in weight.

QnEZ Refugees received numerous calls from millions of desperate people who had not read the fine print - fine print that would have effectively voided the offer of safety it made.

---

General Ben Shaul did not expect any better from the Doomani - this was HaShem's punishment of him for surrendering Eretz HaKodesh - the Holy Land - to the Doomani in the last war.

What the Doomani did not know was why no resistance seemed to be coming from Dar al-Babil: the majority of the citizenry had already fled while North Freetown was being bombed, and much of the population of the city had died there.

The Kahanistanian military did not consider the city to be strategically important, and had effectively abandoned it to the Doomani, with only a token garrison. The few missile defences around the city were there mainly to keep South Freetown safe until the last of those who wished to flee had done so, and gauge the offensive strength of the enemy for a sustained campaign of destruction.

---

Metzuda, Command Bunker

"Defence Minister, the Doomani are using nuclear weapons in battle."

"I didn't think even they were crazy enough to go nuclear against us, not without us using them first," said Defence Minister Rakhmadi. "General Lanilev, elementary MAD theory states that there are only two uses for nuclear weapons against another nuclear nation - they are courting destruction, or they feel they can withstand a nuclear retaliation."

"Or they expect us not to retaliate with nuclear weapons," said Lanilev. "They know we won't attack their civilian population centres... which means they know al-Ghazi is no longer with us. Should we?"

"No. Not even Catholics are worthy of genocide," said Rakhmadi. "But our troops will no longer be holing up in cities as giant targets for carpet bombers. I'm having older radars moved out from South Freetown, New Sodom, and New Gomorrah to provide an early warning, and give away their aircraft positions to longer-range attacks. Failing that..."

“Hey Donner. It’s Alex speaking. I need your help. I need to rent your airforce. Yes, all of it. No, I’m not crazy. Get every Ouroboros, cargo heli, what have you to San Nereiana, we have work to do. I will provide air cover with ASF’s, but you need to actually get my boys there. You will be paid well. Really, really well.”

---

Brettonia, mountainous region near Ladoga
Hot springs luxury resort and spa

"So we've discovered the location of their main hideout, but we can't just kick the front door in and charge inside - the lunatics have probably rigged the place to blow up if we come in guns blazing, and then we'd lose the dirt we need to get on the rest of their group, not to mention our own heads," Chancellor Gerhard Donner remarked, making a hand gesture to indicate the sides of the building in question.

"Anyway, Gorogrov tells me, 'Hey, I'll wager I can sneak in there and start snapping necks without setting off any alarms and causing unnecessary explosions.' I'm thinking to myself that he's flipped - he's kind of the gung-ho type who likes to get his hands dirty," he continued.

"So what did you do?" one of the female occupants of the spring inquired.

"Well, it was impossible to get this guy to clam down once he had his sights set on something. Great guy, Gorogrov, but totally immovable on his own goals and convictions and what have you. So I figure the only way to keep him from doing something stupid when we finally make our move is to let him try his idea," Donner remarked, using a finger to represent the man in question's mustache while speaking. "The whole unit's at risk, so even if he got killed by someone inside, at least we'd be able to keep working."

"That doesn't sound very nice," the other said. "He was your friend, wasn't he?"

"Indeed, but the mission comes first. Anyway, that guy was built like a bear, I felt if anyone could pull that off, it was him," Donner said. "So get this, he pulls off his helmet, then his armor and vest, and finally his damn shirt too, so all he's wearing are his boots, pants, gloves and that sleeveless striped undershirt. He leaves his sidearm, too!"

"He went in unarmed?" Donner's horrified guests posited.

"Well no, he did have that big knife, but try to understand, this man was a weapon in and of himself. Anyway, in he goes - for a big guy, he was very quiet about it," Donner continued. "Anyway, we're out there for three minutes, then five, then eight, no sign of him. Don't hear anything. Then, out of nowhere, a guy with a broken neck flies out of a window on the second floor! And then there's Gorogrov giving us a thumbs up before he disappears back into the room again."

"So he was giving your team an all clear to move in?" she asked.

"Quite. Apparently he killed all four of the guys who were watching the front areas of this building. How he did it I'll never know," Donner lamented. "Anyway, so we start sneaking in through the same door Gorogrov went in, and-" the Chancellor abruptly stopped, a distant yet determined expression on his face.

"And?" the first guest inquired. Donner ignored her entirely and quickly reached around behind him to the pile of folded towels sitting near the edge of the spring.

The door to the springs area slid open as one of Donner's liaisons stuck his head through.

"Excuse me, Chancellor, there's a-" he found himself staring down the barrel of an intricately-decorated Browning Hi-Power, which the Chancellor had produced from under the stack of towels.

"What did I say about announcing your presence first?" he stated in an inquisitorial, flat tone. Eighteen years in the cutthroat Military Intelligence branch tends to produce a level of readiness that borders on paranoia.

"Oh, um... please accept my apologies about that," the liaison apologized quickly. "There was a message, it sounded important."

"Message?" Donner quirked an eyebrow, lowering the pistol - an astute eye would note he had not decocked the hammer or activated the safety.

"Yes, it's from the office of the President of Allanea, sir," the somewhat shaken liaison reported quickly.

"Very well, hand it over," the Chancellor conceded, accepting a PDA from the liaison. His nearly nonexistent eyebrows furrowed as he read over the brief message displayed therein. "Well now, this is certainly intriguing..."

"What is it?" one of the women posited, leaning over the Chancellor's shoulder.

"Sensitive government information," Donner remarked, flashing a slanted eye at his guest. "Quit peeking or you'll have an accident on your way home, and wouldn't that be a shame?" The power the Chancellor wielded was well known, and giving Donner's Military Intelligence connections, such a threat was quite real. Popping the stylus out of its holder, the Chancellor began quickly jotting down a response, satisfied of the privacy of the tinted screen.

---

Alex:
Sounds like you've gotten yourself into quite a mess. What did I tell you about catering to ethnic minority interest and mutant refugees? Anyway, I know your word on cash is as good as the bullion-filled briefcases we get every time your Army makes another giant purchase; ergo I'll pass the word along. What's the nature of this business, anyway? We Brettonians don't like taking orders that have a vague or unknown purpose, if you catch my drift.
- Gerhard

Office of the Field-Marshal of the United States of Allanea

Well, Gerhard, it's all a mess here on the ground. The NATO folks aren't going to be deploying to help us – we kind of counted on them and the Midlonians – and instead of getting out of the war, Northfordians and Krieganians prepping for another huge offensive. That, coupled with intel that the Doomani are going to start human-waving shit with the Imperial Guard means Kahanistan will get run over soon – and the local command isn't exactly Napoleon Bonaparte, if you catch my drift. So we need to start airlifting civilians out.

My calculations are that with your air force, you can get half the Kahanistani population out in one go if you go very Spartan on their conditions. And frankly, that's just what we need.

Near South Freetown

Few dozens of merchant ships in disorganized convoy approached to port. It could be seen from distance that all ships were old, usually almost none of the original paint could be seen. In some cases it even seemed strange how ship is still floating. Of course there was nothing suprising about it. Nobody sane would bring any valuable ships in such area of total war. For simply transporting passengers these vessels were good enough, Kahanistanis were not in position to be picky.

Captain Aleksander Tamm liked making risky businesses at hot areas. He was elected by other captains and companions to be overall chief of this convoy. There was not any central organisation behind this action, Olmedrecan government had no knowledge about it, just bunch of “businessmen” as they called themselves. Obviously they were not doing charity, every spot on ships was going to require payment, but people having Doomanis at doorstep probably are ready to pay.

Terms for getting transport away were simple: payment, minimal baggage and no weapons. To make sure everything goes smoothly, companions had hired “security team” as they called it, although “bunch of bandits” was probably more accurate description. Captain Tamm expected to get all ships full fastly, there was no time to waste.

Official Announcement of the Allanean Government

We would like to point out to all Kahanistani personnel that Brettonian rescue aircraft will arrive shortly. In the meanwhile, we can cart out an approximate eight million personnel aboard our Ouroboros-D series aircraft today for free. There is no need to utilize these strange and iffy Olmedrecan transports.

The lightning-fast advance towards Dar-Al-Babil went unanswered by the Kahanistanis, and Silvanus' troops were able to enter the city without dealing with much in the way of resistance. Further west, Doomani forces were making headway towards South Freetown; however, not wanting to be isolated, they haulted along the new perimeter that was now extending out from Dar-Al-Babil. They were drawing dangerously close to South Freetown; it would be only a matter of time before Doomani bombs put that city to the torch, and with it all of the refugees.

In just four days, the Doomani had pushed halfway into the country and sacked and razed two cities. If the Allaneans wanted their evacuation efforts to go unimpeeded, they would need to hammer out a truce, which would effectively end the war. In the mean time, however, the first of the Imperial Guard units began to filter into Northford. It was estimated that within a week, a full half million Imperial Guard would have entered the Doomani-occupied sector of Kahanistan, and that was just the tip of the spear.

Meanwhile, following the successful airraid on Dar-Al-Babil, Paralentum was preparing for an even larger operation. This time, their target would be South Freetown, and its bombers would be delivering even more in the way of payload this time around. In addition, a cohort of EQV air mobile special operations troops, operating out of brand new ACI-39 Bellicus gunship-transport helicopters, attached to Silvanus' army, was preparing to conduct their own raiding operations in enemy territory. The Doomani, despite their rapid advance, were still upping their game.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v383/Doomingsland/Kstani-Theater-Map4.png

The people fleeing from South Freetown, for the most part, didn't argue - just had their weapons, baggage, etc. flown out by transport plane. Some wanted to hold onto their stuff, and of course some would resist the terms of the Olmedrecans, but most went along.

The people in Libertopolis, on the other hand, looked with worry at the events unfolding in Dar al-Babil. The name meant in the Arabic language roughly, "Abode of Babylon," a reference to the wickedness religious nut-job douche-bags ascribed to Babylon. It was no surprise it was being nuked.

Most people in Libertopolis were radical nationalists. Before the war, it had been a fairly mainstream, that is to say, leftist, socialist, population, but most people there were fleeing and only the extreme nationalists (who weren't giving their land up for anybody, especially a bunch of boy-raping, Mary-worshipping, sadistic beasts) stayed. Nationalists from all over the country flooded in, those who couldn't get into Metzuda, that is. The capital, one of the best defended cities in Haven, was in a state of paranoid fear of infiltrators.

Of course, the radical nationalists in Libertopolis had control of the military bases near there. While anything nuclear had been shipped to Metzuda, missiles were still present... and in the hands of people who felt that Allanea was becoming an overbearing, paternalistic entity, as condescending to Kahanistan as any Questarian Commonwealth nation.

As such, twenty medium-range Fajr-3 ballistic missiles loaded down with Ebola-Zaire (Ebola-Democratic Republic of the Congo?) were fired on South Freetown's Allanean contingent. The military command in Metzuda saw the launches, but had assumed they were being fired on Doomani landing forces that they didn't know about...

Office of the Field-Marshal of the United States of Allanea

Well, Gerhard, it's all a mess here on the ground. The NATO folks aren't going to be deploying to help us – we kind of counted on them and the Midlonians – and instead of getting out of the war, Northfordians and Krieganians prepping for another huge offensive. That, coupled with intel that the Doomani are going to start human-waving shit with the Imperial Guard means Kahanistan will get run over soon – and the local command isn't exactly Napoleon Bonaparte, if you catch my drift. So we need to start airlifting civilians out.

My calculations are that with your air force, you can get half the Kahanistani population out in one go if you go very Spartan on their conditions. And frankly, that's just what we need.

---

Re: Airlift
Alex:
Thorough as always, I see. Oh well, since you've done all the homework for us, I'll take it at face value. If the Kahanistani refugees have to suffer a bit, it's no sweat off our backs. They refused our aegis once before after we had already made a significant commitment, so on principle I would not normally agree to such an operation, but hey, income is income. This'll go quite a long way to financing those new Juumanistran fighters we're looking to pick up...

In any case, I've alerted the chairman of the Army Air Service of the nature of this business - you can go through the finer points of the operation with him, as they're his aircraft in the first place. Your Kahanistani contacts might remember General Y. Hassler as the leader of the Brettonia expeditionary force we dispatched during the Ottoman Alliance conflict - perhaps they'll be more receptive to his help this time around, eh?

I'm going to head over to Numonica in a few weeks to bag some bus-sized game - you ought to come with. Numonican beef can flip an armored personnel carrier, it ought to be fun. I'll provide a M.U.G. and everything, just bring your own piece (read: rifle, you stick-in-the-mud). And none of those mutant women, dammit! I have appearances to keep up. Politics is a bitch, you know? :)
- Gerhard

---

FAX
Aerospace Defense Headquarters
Heavy Lift Division
c/o Office of Gen. Y. Hassler

Greetings, President Kazansky. We have never met, but I've heard much of your exploits in the intervening period since the first Kraven Campaign. I understand that this matter is extremely time sensitive, so we should skip formalities and get directly to the business at hand.

The Chancellor has informed my office that we are to facilitate a large airlift of Kahanistani civilian refugees out of the Kahanistani Protectorate to your backyards in San Nereiana. I am unsure as to why your government would come to the aid of those slack-jawed twits, but that's beside the point - we will carry out our orders to the best of our ability.

According to our most recent geographic survey, the territories in the southern-most extremes of New Sodom should provide adequate space and tensile strength of turf to facilitate landing of Ouroboros-class transport aircraft. We believe this to be the best option available for a land-based operation. If your men have established any better areas to set down, or if a sea-based operation would be preferable, please inform us with all due haste.

Specific landing conditions should be well known to your operatives, as we export a not insignificant number of Ouroboros units to your country; ergo we shall trust that preparations will be made for our arrival. In order to minimize the amount of time spent in the air with hundreds of thousands of human bodies packed inside the fuselages, we shall be utilizing RATO boosters to provide extra airspeed as we leave Kahanistani airspace.

Logistically speaking, this is going to be a fast one. Ensure the refugees will only bring what they can carry, and I imagine this goes without saying, but regardless, explosive devices will not be permitted. Be sure the refugees will not be difficult to load - to maximize cargo space, only seventy soldiers (ten with Stahlkörper (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=447922)) will be embarked per aircraft to provide security. I'm sure I don't need to remind you what a catastrophe a mob scene would be on board a heavily-laden aircraft.

At the present, we are unable to provide much in the way of fighter escort - our indigenously-designed Mithras (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=498537) is currently being phased out of service as we acquire more capable aircraft of Juumanistran manufacture. Frankly, the only worse time this event could have come at would be during an Ouroboros fleet-wide overhaul or E.S.L. operation, but I digress. A bomber (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=452252) contingent in "missile boat" configuration will fly escort, but we absolutely must have fighter escort during operations in Kahanistani airspace.

Allow me to make myself perfectly clear on this issue:
WE RESERVE THE RIGHT TO TERMINATE THIS OPERATION AT ANY TIME, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, AND WITH ANY CONSEQUENCES, IF CONDITIONS ARISE WHERE OUR MEN OR ASSETS ARE IN JEOPARDY.

With that in mind, I have issued an executive order for all fleet aircraft to abort current operations as soon as convenient and make for San Nereiana, where we expect to meet your escort provisions for the flight to Kahanistan. I trust your ground crews will handle the rest. Our aircraft will be flying with neutral transponders, unless you believe hostile air assets would target them regardless. This is not a combat operation nor a tacit approval of the Kahanistani war effort - we are simply providing a contract humanitarian service for a paying customer. Keep that in mind.

I believe this covers all relevant bases. If you have any further questions or or concerns pertinent to this operation, or if you are in possession of any additional information that would prove helpful to my men, be sure to reply with maximum urgency. You're a smart man - don't ruin my current perceptions.

Regards,
General Yuri Hassler

In the ports of New Sodom and South Freetown, people unaware of the recent attacks on Allanean forces swarmed aboard ships, Ouroburoses, and anything else in sight. Many planes were lost as fighter cover was concentrated on Metzuda.

Within the capital, the last civilian flights out of the city, crammed well in excess of their rated maximum take-off weights, departed. The military, in powered Samson armour, Spartacus main battle tanks, Sarzonian 155mm and 280mm ETC guns, missile bases, hidden airfields, minefields... the works... dug in for a battle of epic proportions. The city was now rid of defeatists and others who would drain morale, and other cities were running low on transports...

In most cities, however, millions still urgently needed evacuation...

“Go! Go! Go!” - thousands, hundreds of thousands of Kahanistani were rudely shoved aboard planes. There was no time or place to take personal belongings. Those who argued this point were shot or brutally bayoneted do death, and their place was taken up by others. It took hours, but eventually all 500 Ouroborii were full.

The Allaneans, too, were packing up. They evacuated thousands of Penal Battalion wounded -now freed of their explosive necklaces. They gave their heavy equipment to the Kahanistani (except, it is noted, the Nakil 1A2 tanks) and used the space on their craft to take more wounded men. They shipped out their dead by Ouroboros.

And eventually, 24 hours later, it was known:

450 million Kahanistani had been evacuated by the Bretttonians and Allaneans in the last 24 hours, using 540 Ouroboros aircraft making 3 flights.. . Operation Waters of Jordan had accomplished its goals. Now, the Allaneans were leaving.

Once the last Allanean left Kahanistani soil, the Brettonians would receive their full and honest payment and a small surcharge on top.

OOC: I hereby leave this thread.

Omega-Class Encrypted State Department Communication
It has come to the unfortuante attention of TPF, that Kahanistan civilians are being massacred by Doomingsland. The nation of Doomingsland is one of our primary arms contractors and ally against communist devils. As such, we must tread carefully. We have arranged, through private channels, to evacuate as many civilians from your homeland as possible. We have rented out eight major international air carriers, and as such, we have 4,321 Boeing 747's ready to evac your people to any nation of your choice. Each of these can airlift 400 people with a bag or so of belongings. This the best we can do. We ask these aircraft be escorted by your air force, but TPFian fighters, stripped of any identifiable markings, will also escort them. Godspeed, and get back to us.

On board merchant ship Kivikaev

Maria Shuna was young eightteen year old Kahanistani from South-Freetown. She had lived there for all her life. But she knew that most likely she will never see it again. Currently she was on old transport ship Kivikaev leaving from Kahanistan. There were hunderds of people around her, people were packed as tightly as humanly possible, to achieve maximum passenger capacity. In total there were several thousand on whole ship, but still she felt extremely alone. His old father had payed for her ticket to leave from Kahanistan, but he himselfly had stayed behind. She knew that most likely they will never see each other again. Many people around her were crying. Crying for lost families, crying for lost friends, and crying for lost homeland. She was having those thoughts until suddenly noticed that captain of the ship, Gustav Wrede, had entered to the large room and started speaking:

“Hello everyone! I am captain Wrede. I assume that not all of you understand my English so please someone later repeat what I said in other languages what your nation speaks. Rules on ship are simple. During day you are allowed outside to breath fresh air. Obviously in smaller groups, not everyone at once. During night you are only allowed to toilet. Also avoid unneccessary contacts with members of crew, not all of them have clean past, so its better for everyone to avoid any misunderstandings and conflicts. Security team will ensure following the rules. Also if you have any problems talk with them.

Now short overview of our journey for those who still do not know. As Kahanistan is surrounded by enemies, we will head far out to sea firstly. Later we will turn to south and head to Allanean San Nerenaia, if that would be unavaible, we will land you in some other port that is friendly or neutral towards Kahanistan. We will need to keep long distance from Krierograd so trip will be long one. Do not worry, we have enough food to feed you all, even if we need to head to Allanean Roanoke, although that is extremely unlikely. That is all from me, my aide mr. Mägi, will come in a hour and answer to all questions and specify details about eating times. He will visit you each morning and evening to solve any problems.”

Maria noticed that most people had ceased crying during speech. There were mostly younger people on ship. Old ones were more reluctant to leave homes, there they had been living all their lives, also during crisis it seemed unethical for them to take chance of survival from younger people by crabbing spots on ships from them. And finally she had noticed, that Olmedrecans themselfly clearly gave younger people priority, then choosing who to allow on ships. From what she had heard, about seventy to eighty thousand Kahanistanis had fitted on those ships, rather small amount considering the scale of storm at Kahanistan. As it was night, people were not allowed outside. Otherwise most probably would had went out and had one more look at their lost homeland.

Omega-Class Encrypted State Department Communication
It has come to the unfortuante attention of TPF, that Kahanistan civilians are being massacred by Doomingsland. The nation of Doomingsland is one of our primary arms contractors and ally against communist devils. As such, we must tread carefully. We have arranged, through private channels, to evacuate as many civilians from your homeland as possible. We have rented out eight major international air carriers, and as such, we have 4,321 Boeing 747's ready to evac your people to any nation of your choice. Each of these can airlift 400 people with a bag or so of belongings. This the best we can do. We ask these aircraft be escorted by your air force, but TPFian fighters, stripped of any identifiable markings, will also escort them. Godspeed, and get back to us.

Equally Encrypted Communication

Unfortunately, our air force is unable to assist - it is all we can do to maintain air superiority over our capital. We find your doing business with these Nazi purveyors of human misery, genocide, terror, and hate utterly reprehensible.

Now that you have seen the utterly despicable practices of the Doomani face to face, practices that turn even your stomachs, you will see these vile beings for what they are and cut off business with them. It makes me sick that various sick, self-hating Kahanistanian politicians even here want to buy Doomani gear under the delusion that it will damage their faith to see corporations getting rich off the deaths of their sons and fathers in battle.

Anyone who supports freedom yet allies with Doomingsland is a fool or a liar. If the former, may your eyes be opened by the carnage you see here; if the latter, then you will burn in Hell alongside them.

Signed,
General Samarra Rakhmadi,
Minister of Defence

State Department Communication
No wonder your own politicians want to buy Doomingsland equipment, after your own force's pathetic and criminally incompetent inability to defend your homeland. We offered to save lives, thousands upon thousands of lives, but it is clear to us that you cannot look past our own 'barbaric' practices to save your own civilians. Look in the mirror. If you cannot set aside your political views for lives, then it is you who is going to hell. The choice is yours. You can either spout more political nonsense for a country that will soon cease to exist, or you can save your citizens so you may live to fight another day. We took great risk in our offer, do not make us regret it.

Encrypted Communication

I tire of your insults. I will allow you to come in and take whoever is stupid enough to get on one of your planes. Our air force will be unable to assist, as I stated. We will lose air superiority over the capital if we divert the planes to escort your flights, but you will be allowed in.

Signed,
General Samarra Rakhmadi,
Minister of Defence

In The Air
It had been a long flight, hours in length, just to get halfway to their destination. There were separate groups of the Boeing 747's, each group had about forty planes, give or take a few, and were escorted by ASF-70 aircraft. All planes had been stripped of identifiable markings, and they maintained strict radio silence. The escorts moved at subsonic velocity, both to maintain stealth and fuel. Along with the ASF-70, along with Banshees, would form the basis of the escort force. Safeguard Electronic Warfare aircraft would also provide some valuable assistance. The groups banked up from the south-east of the nation, where there would be no enemy fighters. Then, they'd proceed as close to the front as possible, and then land at local airports to take on refugees. They were only a few hours away now, a few hours away from saving thousands and thousands of lives. God would surely protect them, for they were doing His work.

Somewhere in Northford

"Well, that does it. We've sent the Allaneans running for their lives. The country is open for us to pillage and plunder as we will," Alexius said with a grin as they watched the last of the Ouroborii carrying Allanean troops take off.

"Indeed. I want to congradulate you all. You've done well: it's taken us just four days to break the combined allied will, but we still have plenty of work ahead of us. I'm going to give the heathens an option that will spare their lives, but the likelihood of their acceptance is relatively low. As such, we might as well proceed with the rest of Operation Broken Crescent as planned. Until they accept our most generous terms, we will burn every heretic, slaughter every heathen, and crush every infidel within this cursed place. We shall raze every one of their unholy cities to the ground with the mighty fires of God's wrath until they submit to our will," Silvanus boomed in a monotonous voice.

"This day, South Freetown shall become hell on Earth as our bombers blot out the sun. Our armies shall swarm across the land, slaughtering all in their path. The false gods of the unbeliever shall be of no aid to them, for it is our God's eternal love for His children that shall crush them."

As he spoke, he was fully aware of the coming storm that was steadily approaching the city of South Freetown. Six hundred bombers had been amassed for the strike; they were supported by countless fighters. When the bombers were done, the armies would not even need to occupy the city, for there simply would be nothing left to occupy. They were now making their final leg of the journey, through Northfordian airspace, where they'd be joined by their escorts.

Already, thousands of Imperial Guard troops were filtering into Kahanistan through Northford and North Freetown and proceeding south and southeast to bolster the already stiff Imperial frontline. Troops were being massed for a decisive push towards South Freetown.

Meanwhile, Imperial AWACS aircraft had picked up the forty 747s as they entered the theatre. These were clearly neither Brettonian nor Allanean Ouroborii working the evacuation, which had already ended. With no IFF systems, they appeared to be perfectly viable targets. For all the Doomani knew, they could be bombers in disguise. However, when they began to land at small local airports as close to the frontlines as they could get, the Doomani knew something was up.

They'd wait for the 747s to take off with their cargo of refugees before they took action...

The Kahanistanians allowed the TPF transports into their nation without much of a fight (though numerous insults and expressions of fears they would be sold to the Doomani were common) but kept a close eye on the airports.

Those landing in Metzuda saw a city under siege. The Presidential Palace had been destroyed by the Allaneans, and the Defence Ministry had taken over the government. As such, massive armoured beasts rolled through the streets of the capital. Air raid drills took place daily, as did shooting drills and barricade training. Massive artillery pieces were moved through the capital, and it looked like every artillery piece in Kahanistan were here. Given that most of the other cities had depopulated by flight (thus rendering them strategically unimportant) perhaps the city, whose name was Hebrew for fortress, did indeed hold all the arms of the Republic.

Construction equipment worked at a feverish pace to dig massive bomb shelters so deep that even the strongest of Doomani bombs would be unable to penetrate. Vaccinations against numerous biological weapons were handed out like candy - sometimes literally in the form of candy, especially to children.

In a barracks in the capital, a shell of Pestis Dei which had failed to detonate was dragged into a soldier's room. Private Drew Morinn lifted the shell onto his desk. He had read of the Pontic Emperor Mithridates VI (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mithridates_VI_of_Pontus), who had taken large doses of poison to the point where he had been unable to commit suicide, and decided to take a whiff of the terrible Doomani gas with his mates, whom he had convinced after a night of drunken revelry and drag shows to join him in this endeavour.

However, instead of making himself and his comrades in arms immune to the venom, the lungs of the unfortunate soldiers melted as they ran into the streets, terrified and in agony as their insides turned to mush while they were still alive. A quick-thinking bystander in a nearby building called an ambulance, but it was too late.

Surface to air missile launchers were erected all over the capital, from short-range launchers placed on top of buildings to long-range monstrosities for busting AWACS. Nuclear shells were buried deep in the ground around the capital. Individual city blocks had their own wells and filters, often deep underground.

Those civilians without ideological opposition to TPF swarmed onto the planes they offered like fleas to a cat. Most dismissed them, and a few adamantly refused to do business with a nation that so insulted their country, even to save their own lives.

Kahanistan
Salt flats region outside New Sodom territory

"These are the last ones, then?" the Brettonian loadmaster asked, gazing over the sprawling mass of humanity packed into the Ouroboros' hangar. Modular decking had been installed to maximize floorspace, while collapsible tiered cots had been set up to provide a modicum of comfort to the Kahanistani refugees.

"The last ones that are going go turn out, anyway," an Allanean logistical officer noted, adjusting his hat. "We thought there'd be more, but it looks like some of them would rather be flattened by the Doomanis."

"Their loss," the loadmaster remarked flatly. "If they'd rather keep their swag and -" the officer was cut off as a gunshot echoed across the hold. The loadmaster quickly removed his sunglasses and leaned over the edge of the catwalk to get a look out of the cavernous rear door. A scuffle had broken out between a number of refugees and a soldier keeping order in the lines heading onto the massive aircraft, and a refugee was lying on the ground.

"Oh Lord, and everything was going to smoothly..." the loadmaster groaned, retrieving a headset from his shirt pocket; his Allanean counterpart simply planted a palm over his face and sighed. "Lukash, get down there and make sure this doesn't get ugly," he said into the microphone. A Stahlkörper on the deck below made a quick two-armed salute and began stalking outside to prevent further escalation. "Pack those last morons up and let's get the hell out of here!"

"Sounds like my cue to disappear," the Allanean officer noted, making for an access corridor.

"Thanks for your help with all this business," the loadmaster nodded. "Give my regards to your staff. Make sure you guys get out of here before it's soup time!"

"Naturally. You watch your ass as well," he gave a quick gesture and departed, eager to get off the Ouroboros and well clear of the landing zone before its nuclear-powered engines began saturating a 600-meter radius behind the craft with beta emitters. Great guys, those Allaneans... he thought for a moment, then slapped the headset back on his head.

"All right, that's enough! Put any refugees that don't fit on the 319 and let's get going!" he yelled into the microphone, then began traipsing up to the command deck - he hoped the security personnel would be able to keep things in order. Should a disturbance break out amid the huddled masses of humanity, the Ouroboros' fire extinguishing systems would be deployed in a much less conventional fashion, and the loadmaster was not looking forward to cleaning up the mess afterwards.

Most of the soldiers and Stahlkörper still outside withdrew into the Ouroboros' hold, forming a security perimeter against any more refugees attempting to board the vessel. Those troops that couldn't make it aboard began herding the remaining refugees towards one of the few remaining Ouroboros still taking on people, and more importantly, out of the exhaust danger zone that would soon exist when the megalithic transport's engines began powering up. Mighty hydraulic rams began raising the rear and side doors; the vessel would soon be on its way to points beyond with its human cargo.

Low Earth orbit, over Haven.

The cone spun against the contrasted background of low earth orbit. This was no mere shuttle, this was a SSTO operated by the Aerospace Force. But what was it doing? Ventral doors opened and spat odd looking cylindrical packages out, kick stages on one end igniting and pushing them into a fast polar orbit that would bring them over Kahanistan at a set period.

The pilot upon seeing the successful deployment of the devices began the preparations for reentry, fingers dancing over the keyboard-pads in the extremely tight confines of the command module. He took a moment to wonder what the hell he had just accomplished but promptly pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind as he worked on reentry angles and thrust vectors.

Southern ZMI.

The truck rattled and jumped over the roughly maintained road running across the playa, and with each bump the curses of the passengers surpassed the volume of the country music blasting from the radio.
“Dear god where the hell are we going exactly?” exclaimed the passenger riding shotgun, Major General Alexi Balakirev who just happened to be the SHOK lesion officer for the Aerospace Space Force as he clutched his briefcase containing the one time pad close, “Ow!”

The driver, Major Elijah Kossakovsky of the 31st Internal Security division rolled his eyes before answering, “There. See it?” He made a one armed gesture at a depilated building with a sign announcing that it was the property of the “Ace Tomato Company”. Whatever it was, it had a drive-thou…

They pulled up to the drive-thou and Kossakovsky leaned out the window to the ordering microphone and said very carefully: “I would like to order a Pepsi.”

Most remaining ships of the Kahanistanian Navy decided to sail alongside the Allaneans as they left the country; they would be needed to protect the new homeland and they could not simply die uselessly at the hands of the larger Doomani navy. Besides, the ground forces had an idea in mind for the Doomani...

At the same time, South Freetown launched its Khan missile battery, two hundred Khans. This battery was not in the hands of radical nationalists, and was firing on anything in North Freetown - it was assumed that nothing there any more was their friend, and the flow of Doomani troops needed to be slowed. Besides, those Khans would simply be wasted if the city fell.

The last dozen or so ships in South Freetown were being packed fat with refugees and their goods, and would sail - escorted only by a few frigates, submarines, and the occasional battleship - at dusk the next day, as long as the city needed to be held.

OFFICIAL COMMUNIQUE

IMPERIVM DOOMANVM

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v383/Doomingsland/seal2.gif

While I am certain that my most generous offer shall fall upon deaf ears, I feel it would be sinful of me not to at least attempt to deliver salvation upon the people of Kahanistan while they still draw breath. I am willing to spare the remaining inhabitants of the Havenic Republic of Kahanistan in return for the immediate and unconditional surrender of all strongholds and cities. This offer applies to the whole nation: to individual cities willing to work for peace should their tyrannical overlords in Metzuda refuse once more to save the lives of their subjects.

As of right now, any city in Kahanistan that lays down its arms, surrenders its armies, and accepts an Imperial garrison shall be considered under the full protection of the Imperium Doomanum. No bombs shall scar the streets of that city as they have to others. You all have witnessed our power in North Freetown and in Dar-Al-Babil: we are fully willing and able to destroy every single city; however, our's is a kind and generous Caesar, and he sees fit to allow you one last chance to save your lives.

Make no mistakes: failure to accept this offer here and now shall result in your complete and total destruction. North Freetown failed to accept this offer, and as a result nothing in that city save for the glorious legions that liberated it from its pagan occupiers draws breath. Look upon North Freetown as an example: if you wish ruin upon your people, follow it and your lands shall look just as North Freetown does now. If you wish to preserve the lives of your women and children, however, I am giving you that chance. I pray that you all come to your senses,

-Legatus Propraetoris C. Publius Silvanus, Commander of Caesar's III Army

Eastern Coast of Kahanistan

Official Message
TO: Whatever remains of the Kahanistani government
FROM: Admiral of the Fleets Pime Taradox and Anateros-Strategos Iphlekos Memnotus
RE: Declaration of War

The Kahanistani government stands in the way of Zukariaa's overall strategic goals. As such, you are to be pushed aside like the pieces of crap you have proven yourselves time and again to be. We do not expect you to surrender, and as such, we will not offer it yet. Regardless, you will soon be wishing that you had surrendered when the Doomani so kindly offered it.
http://www.maj.com/gallery/Humhum/HavenMapz/iphlekosmemnotus.png
Signed,
Admiral of Fleets Pime Taradox and Anateros-Strategos Iphlekos Menotus, Commander of Kahanistani Theatre of Operations

By the time that the Zukariaan fleet arrived off the coast of Kahanistan, it had become clear that the Kahanistani were effectively abandoning the cities and retreating to Metzuda. With that knowledge in mind, Admiral Pime Taradox and Strategos Iphlekos Memnotus anticipated little resistance to their landing.

With the approach of Admiral Pime Taradoxs' navy, the Zukariaan counterpart to Operation Broken Crescent, Operation Pime Taradox (named thus by the Admiral himself), began. Following the gauging and destruction of Kahanistani AA capabilites and coastal defences with ARM barrages, 400 Candrian B22s from the mainland, filled with 105,000kg of FAE each, formed up with Aquilae from the fleet, purchased from the Doomani. The force would split to hit New Sodom and New Gomopilah with 21,000,000kg of FAE each. The FAE would work much as they had when the Doomani used them; choke the air from lungs and rip them out, burn flesh, and collapse building under intense heat and pressure.

Once New Sodom and New Gomopilah were effectively destroyed, and coastal defences turned useless (if not in the first attack, then in the second assuming the first failed), the ground forces would begin landing. Some 350,000 men and an armoured force of 8,000 Nakils would secure the two cities from land and crush any remaining resistance.

Once this was completed, the Zukariaans would offer the Kahanistani in the area the chance to surrender to them rather than fall under the Doomani and suffer horrific deaths.

High Earth Orbit

The battle space recon saturation pods lay snug nestled in a silica based impact foam behind Whipple shields and heated and checked like a clucking mother hen by the unmanned orbital platform, really nothing more than an outsize sat which sat at a dull and rather boring high orbit, well out of the hustle and bustle. The recon pods sat looking as innocuous as a heavily converted chassis for a 400 kilo multi warhead delivery system mounted on a 3 metre long solid booster can. If all went according to plan they would continue to sit there, unused for the next twenty odd years before being ripped out, having the boosters chemicals recycled and the metals used as cladding on a habitat module or just allowed to burn up. Then the signals started to arrive, deep within the pods several dozen ToughCD format optic discs whined up to speed sucking down there mission like so many piglets in a sty. The platform too had received instructions. Whipple shields unfolded like a set of opening geometric flowers along the three solar panel and storage tank studded spider web thin gantries of the platform. Slowly but surely on tiny bursts of a cold gas cell no larger than an aerosol can the pods make there way out into the earthlight, then after they have cleared any possible back blast distance they orientate themselves. Today money makes gyroscopes spin as the cold math of orbital manoeuvring is played out by the simple minded pods. For a mere moment or two a dull blue white flare silenty screams into space as the pods kick themselves into a decaying orbit. It will take about half an hour for them to reach release point. when they do each will saturate the area they are above with several dozen golf ball sized mini satellites, each acting as a single cell in a massive phased recon array.

Check. One large eye in the sky right on target.

Southern ZMI

The drive in looked like a McSpeedy burgers complete with giant speeding tire on its somewhat worse for wear road sign. The 40 year old burger chain had gone bust nearly 30 of those years ago and this drive thru on a little used class four road was to say the least dilapidated, dust and peeling paint predominated and in the structures once proud red plastic now pink surrounded windows which were now filled with some what tattered fibre board sprayed with graffiti that was ten years out of date. If one had however say smashed in the door one would have found that the entire construct was literally in some places paper thin and that the McSpeedy burger and its out buildings were packed with enough air defence hardware to put a major wet navy battle group to shame.

The reply came in a cold and somewhat bored voice with a strong norse overtone of a security supervisor who was entirely too bored for his own good.

"Voice print authenticated Alexi Balakirev, please keep inside the vehicle, please do not operate electrical devices. please buckle up." There was a short sharp siren and then..

There was a dull set of clunks. If the gentlemen had cared to check at this point a set of large metal clamps had neatly moved upon rails set beneath the quite real sand to align with the wheels before locking. With that the ground fell away fast. Or rather at over 180 counterweight propelled miles an hour the truck began its rather swift journey downwards, a brief camera shutter like change in the light showed above as blast doors slid back into place and the world changed to an endless view of dull black plastic covered concrete and a seemingly endless series of lights and blast doors opening and closing.

In truth this was not just to assist in security but air pressure. For a moment the platform slowed and stopped before the entire affair was lowered through what looked very much like a vast magnetic resonance scanner. After this brief respite the vertical motion ceased and the platform was neatly slid by recessed hydraulic rams through a series of almost log flume like pathways, occasionally giving glanced views of massive tanks, silos and feed pipelines and endless ranks of clanking yellow painted maintenance tracks with orange and yellow jump suited personnel surrounding them. The platform still possessing the drive thru speaker and a random piece of tumbleweed passed one final massive set of clamshell pressure doors designed not for external blast but internal and shuddered to a stop with a cascade of sand onto the rail bed.

A stand of recharging electric golf carts waited along with four men all military in bearing, the first two were unremarkable, the mind immediately leaps to the word "guard" and the dull black caseless compact SMGs that were slung and held downwards looked almost silly if one could draw your eyes away from a 20mm six barrelled auto cannon that endlessly tracked up the tunnel on a roof bound rail with a dull servo mechanichal whine.

The other two dressed for the occasion with enough flowing gold braid to seemingly to want to leap of there shoulders and attack small passing animals. The first was in the white uniform of the ZMSF, positively ancient looking, complete with walking stick, a vast array of badges medals and one lurid orange sash all topped off by huge white bushy eyebrows which seemed to be vieing with the cap brim balanced above like some rain forest plant growing towards the light, below a set of blue eyes a fiery glimmer within them. The other was younger, red head, the words built like an oxen could be appropriate. The face was remarkably unmemorable save for a hawk like nose that coldly stood forward and demanded attention.

They were respectively first grand Sky Marshall Alexander Drexel who while no longer the head of the ZMSF was still the first ZMI citizen shareholder in space and still held more than a little sway, the second was air marshall Terrence P. Varn an unremarkable staff officer if one looked at his official records. Unofficially Varn was black ops and black funds and many in the DOD budgetary department cursed his name daily.

Drexel spoke first, his voice old but still strong and from the chest not the throat.

"Gentlemen welcome to S.H.O.K., if you are quite ready, we will make our way to the command centre."

[OOC: Hope I got the Hebrew right.]

"Never, ever deal with terrorists. Hunt them down and, more important, mercilessly punish those states and groups that fund, arm, support, or simply allow their territories to be used by the terrorists with impunity."

Meir Kahane

New Sodom and New Gomorrah launched their Khans, 200 from New Gomorrah, 300 from New Sodom, at the Zukaarian fleet - in all, five hundred ballistic anti-shipping missiles were thrown at the Zukaarians, being thrown into the air and careening down at high speed, engaging rockets to pierce the thick hulls of their most powerful warships.

To the south, the Kriegos were at their doorstep. To the north, lines of defence were crumbling against the combined Doomani assaults, and the enemy was approaching the Auschwitz Line, the twenty-kilometer radius belt around Metzuda, composed of every defensive item from dragon's teeth and anti-tank mines, to anti-personnel mines underneath razor wire, to surface-to-air missiles with laser beams, IRST, passive radar, huge "HARM magnet" active radars for long-range detection of SEAD units (claimed to be able to spot a B-2 from over 500 kilometres), protected by CIWS and THEL, to thermobaric and nuclear land mines, to pitfalls whose victims were impaled on spikes coated with pig fat and dog shit.

Yet, the enemy continued to advance further, and the other cities in the enemy paths were now fighting for their freedom against invading troops. Metzuda was the last stronghold of relative liberty in Kahanistan. ("Relative" because the military regime, while not interfering in the private lives of the citizens, was a military junta taking power from the civilian government. It was slightly freer than AMF in that the state was not concerned with criticism; the military junta was to lose power at the end of the war regardless of how it turned out, and men such as General al-Ghazi believed that if he died in battle he would become a god of sorts. Despite his disappearance, the military had covered up his abduction to maintain the illusion that the lunatic was still in power.)

---

"You named this operation after a Mary Rapers song?" asked Defence Minister Rakhmadi.

"No," said General Hiram Menashe. "I named it after the 27 big guns we have under the capital."

"All right..." The Minister frowned and ran a hand through her dark hair, over a battle scar where it did not grow. "So you named the guns after a Mary Rapers song."

"No."

It was time for Kahanistan's last-ditch effort to shake off the invaders: Operation Esh HaShoah: the Fire of Disaster, or more poetically, the Flames of the Holocaust. Underneath the Auschwitz Line were twenty-seven massive coilguns, with a bore of 1.2 metres and a length of 288 metres, capable of hurling a rocket-assisted shell 2,200 kilometres from its cannon, buried 400 metres underground and firing through a hole in the earth normally shielded by thick slabs of concrete and steel. These guns were called Esh HaShoah, and they were to visit the Flames of the Holocaust upon those who would exterminate the people of Kahanistan.

http://i73.photobucket.com/albums/i206/Kahanistan/EshHaShoah.jpg

Upon the order of General Hiram Menashe, the commander of the gun batteries, the signal was given for these massive guns to fire their payloads. The monstrous shells were conducted up the nearly three hundred metres of barrel by a series of electromagnetic coils at ever-increasing speed until they rocketed out of the ground and their rocket assist propelled them further upwards, sending many of them careening to Earth at hypersonic speeds.

Two of the monstrous 1.2x10m shells were "Kessler rounds." These were effectively gigantic shotgun shells, launched into space to disperse millions of ball bearings, wiping out every satellite in the area... or such was the intent. One could never tell what the enemy's defence was against them.

Other shells were radiological, such as the three nuclear shells each raining on New Sodom and New Gomorrah. These shells, augmented by fifteen-kiloton charges, were loaded with caesium-137 (with a half-life of 30 years) and cobalt-60, enough to not only level the cities and take out most of the Zukaarians (whose strategic goals, contrary to claims, were not of concern to the Kahanistanian central command until they were attacked) but to destroy the ports, deny their enemies a landing spot, and render the cities unusable.

A thirty-megaton shell was thrown at North Freetown, enough to destroy its port and stem the Doomani landings if the Khans had not done this.

Nine other shells rained a particularly virulent strain of botulism all over southern Kahanistan. If the radiological contamination had not stopped the Kriegos, these certainly would. A further nine shells - three biological, six nuclear, covered northern Kahanistan and three of the Northfordian bases suspected of supplying Doomani aircraft.

The Flames of the Holocaust would burn all over Kahanistan that day, consuming millions of little Eichmanns who jumped on the bandwagon to prosecute a completely unprovoked assault on innocent people.

General Menashe replied to General Silvanus.

"If we ever hope to rid the world of the political AIDS of our time, terrorism, the rule must be clear: One does not deal with terrorists; one does not bargain with terrorists; one kills terrorists."

Meir Kahane (1932 - 1990), radical American-Israeli politician, activist, and rabbi

When he sent that, his aide, Lt. General Robinstein, looked at him askance.

"Dude. Quoting Kahane is NOT COOL."

Kahanistan was no longer fucking around.

On the Ground
Kahanistan Military Policemen and soldiers struggled to keep order. While some citizens had ideological differences, and refused to do business with TPF, hundred of thousands of civilians didn't and crammed onto the 747's waiting around the nation. Many civilians carried too many belongings with them, and they were discarded. Over a million citizens would be evacuated, really a mere droplet in the refugee horde, but it was the best they could feasibly do. The government hadn't told them what country to deliver them too, and they sure as hell weren't going back to TPF, so they would escape for now, and wait for orders. It took some time on the ground to get things moving, making the sure the desperate populace had assigned seating, and no weapons. TPFian sky marshals were also on board, heavily armored and armed, although they didn't show their faces until the doors were sealed. The 747's rocketed off the various runways, and once again split into their groups of 40 or so, but this time they stayed closer in the sky than on the way in, therefore allowing the escorts to better protect them. Some government officials wanted a second wave, but the risk was just to great, especially considering the WMD's now being flaunted about. TPF would have to make do with what it had done. They air armada exited the same way they came, hoping to pass over the surviving Kahanistan navy, maybe they would provide some air cover.

North Freetown

Twenty-thousand Imperial Guardsmen were the assigned garrison force to what was now the largest Imperial supply base in southwest Haven; well, it was. Before a thirty megaton nuclear device ruined everyone's day. The enourmous fireball dwarfed all of the ordnance used by the Doomani in the entire war combined: the city was simply vaporized. The ships docked nearby simply capsized, and everyone within its confines (and those in the surrounding area, for that matter) were totally incinerated.

Full-scale nuclear war had been initiated. Little did General Menashe, he had just provoked the Doomani into the largest release of thermonuclear weapons they had ever launched. In effect, he had just killed every single Kahanistani within the borders of Kahanistan.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Orbit

Do unto others as they have done unto you
But what in the hell is this world coming to?
Blow the universe into nothingness
Nuclear warfare shall lay us to rest

Once the orders to commence strategic nuclear exchange had been recieved, the satellites immediately went to work. Simultaneously, every orbital weapon tasked to the area moved in; following the initiation of Kessler syndrome, however, the satellites in the immediate area had been neutralized. With the sheer amount of satellite weapons Doomanum had, however, they were able to swiftly get replacements into the area. After all, Kahanistan was the only target for complete and total extermination with nuclear weapons, at the moment. One of Doomanum's many methods of nuclear deterrant was to, in effect, have lone nuclear warheads with maneuvering thrusters simply floating around in orbit, capable of dropping down onto targets below at a moment's notice. When in orbit, the satellites' radiation signatures were shielded by a variety of materials (and as a result of this armoring, were also capable of operating in environments in which Kessler syndrome existed); in essense, they appeared to be normal, albeit strangely shaped, communications satellites.

Now the world would learn otherwise: seven of these satellites began their descents towards their targets in Kahanistan. Simultaneously, twenty nearby weapons platforms, which were, in essense, orbital metalstorm systems which instead of packing conventional ammunition, were armed with two-hundred individual two-kiloton nuclear warheads. Two of these satellites were assigned to each city: the velocity of the warheads ensured they'd reach the targets well before the larger devices. It was these warheads that would make absolutely sure that there was no possible way that any of the larger warheads could be intercepted on the way down, for the smaller ones would simply incinerate anything resembling an air defense grid.

Fight fire with fire
Ending is near
Fight fire with fire
Bursting with fear
We all shall die

The other eight satellites were tasked with eliminating Kahanistan's missile-based nuclear arsenal: the Imperium had already made sure to map out all possible locations for missile silos via ground penetrating RADAR, and so each of these locations were saturated with dozens of small nuclear warheads to prevent their launch. Those that were left over proceeded to pelt areas outside of the cities with any sign of life with the remainder of their warheads.

Enemy aircraft were not left out of the picture either: orbital platforms containing three megaton nuclear warheads were employed, with the warheads set for airburst in areas inhabited by enemy aircraft to ensure nothing would escape. Just a few of these would be needed; however, the TPF aircraft attempting to evacuate the civilians were among the targetted. There would be no escape for them.

Finally, the largest of the warheads picked up speed: these were, quite simply, some of the largest thermonuclear weapons ever detonated by any nation. Each had a yield of one gigaton: not only would the cities be completely vaporized in one of the largest fireballs ever seen, but the lands around would be completely devastated, with forces deployed around being annihilated by the enourmous blast radius (fortunately for the Doomani front line troops, they were still out of range). Seven of these weapons deployed: they targetted the cities of Metzuda, South Freetown, Pax, Libertopolis, Biet Nephilim, and North Vegas, and the Esh HaShoah complex.

Time is like a fuse, short and burning fast
Armageddon is here, like said in the past

Seven gigatons. That wasn't counting the smaller warheads. And yet it was not over: on the Imperial frontline, artillery units were given the order to break open the safebox and remove their atomic artillery shells and prepare for loading. Yields were dialed in: twenty kilotons for the targets furthest away, with the yield growing smaller and smaller as the targets became closer, altho the smallest yield would have been along the lines of five kilotons unless the target was within visual range of friendly troops (in which case it would be smaller to prevent friendly fire). The targets were selected: the nearest concentration of Kahanistani personnel or equipment, the maximum distance of these targets being up to eighty kilometers away. And thus, frontline units had a say in the nuclear exchange by targetting the enemy units that threatened their immediate.

The Havenic Republic of Kahanistan had tried to test the patience of the Imperium Doomanum with the use of a strategic thermonuclear weapon. As a result, the Imperium Doomanum had responded with roughly two hundred and forty times the amount of firepower the Kahanistanis had delivered. The Doomani had initiated Exterminatio. And thus the world watched in horror as an entire nation was literally wiped off the map in the fires of nuclear war...

Soon to fill our lungs the hot winds of death
The gods are laughing, so take your last breath

-Metallica

Saint Peter's Mountain Complex
Deep in the mountain, there was a room. It was Room 13. In it, were some of the only people monitoring the covert operation to evac citizens. LCD and OLED screen, along with holographic projections showed the progress. The planes were moving out of the country. Then everything went to hell. There was a series of bright explosions, and all contact was lost. A few hours later, when they were able to get a ultra-high-orbit spy satellite over the area, hired by a private company, there was nothing left of that country at all. A mere five hundred 747's had escaped, the rest were vanquished. Over fifty percent of the sizable fighter force had also been annihilated, some had only been saved because half had gone far, far ahead of the rest to make sure that those areas were clear. It was a disaster, but there was little TPF could do. In the back, an aged man summed up the feelings of all in the room.
" Fuck the Dommani. God damn them." And surely God would damn them.

The Esh HaShoah complex was a network of 27 coilguns, buried underground in a circular formation around the capital city of Metzuda, spaced evenly at three-kilometre intervals.

Virtually all of Kahanistan's remaining missile capacity (1,800 USABM's, 2,100 ICBM's) had been surrounding Metzuda - as such, there was little area to protect beyond the sixty square kilometres of the capital itself other than the gun complex. While at this concentration, almost every missile that successfully launched (about 40 USABM's and 150 ICBM's) could be assured a hit on something, the sheer numbers of missiles pretty much guaranteed nothing less than 100 metres underground stood a chance of survival. Even the cockroaches would be killed by the heat.

General Samarra Rakhmadi, the Defence Minister, looked stunned when the communications from above abruptly ceased. Without a word, she drew her sidearm and fired directly into her heart, through her side. She collapsed to the ground and bled out within minutes. General Hiram Menashe was left as leader of the few million civilians and 120,000 or so troops who had made it into deep-earth bunkers.

"Today, we die like Spartans. Today, we die in battle, that the Doomani gain nothing, that they do not profit from this war. Three hundred will slay ten thousand, and three thousand shall slay one million, and three hundred thousand shall slay ten billion." His math wasn't great, but he was inspirational to terrified, desperate people.

Eastern Coast of Kahanistan
Bridge of the ZNS Pime Taradox

Pime Taradox was a man revered at the greatest naval commander Zukariaa had ever seen. He had seen action in many places and had technically never lost a battle. One battle, in which his faithful capital ship (egotistically named for himself like most things he had command over) was the sole survivor of the battle, where ensigns cited having seen him standing proudly at the entrance of a gaping hole of the bridge he now stood in, was extremely popular and had garnered many adaptations and recognition as a Hero.

As such, he had been sent in under massive expectations of victory. As the enemy khans began shooting off from Sodom and Gomopilah, Taradox reacted instinctively. He had seen the Questarian Mogami take down a massive khan assault during the NATO War, and that was what he planned to do. From the roughly 150 Mogami-class air defence cruisers and various other ships, hundreds of missiles fired off towards the Kahanistani khans, more than enough when a single Mogami could target more than a 1000 targets.

Still, 12 Hayasakes and 5 Valiants were destroyed, with about a dozen other ships severely damaged (one only surviving because the khan had 'scraped' it and torn off a massive chunk). As the B22s and Aquilae moved to attack Sodom and Gomopilah, the sky suddenly came alight. The force veered many of the planes off course, causing some to even crash into the sea. On board the ZNS Pime Taradox, it's namesake's face twisted in anger.

"What the fuck just happened?!" he screamed, smashing his fist into a random instrument and aiming his scream at an operator.

"Some unidentified weapon was used by the Kahanistani has just destroyed New Sodom and New Gomopilah," Pime Taradox's face lightened up,"Extreme amounts of radiation detected. It looks like they used massive cannons."

"Wait, they destroyed their own cities before we could?"

"Yes."

Pime Taradox suddenly deafened the bridge with manic laughter,"Man, politics are fucked up these days. Respond to Metzuda in kind."

"Yes si-" again massive explosions blotted the sky,"Uhm.. the Doomani have just responded. Metzuda doesn't seem to exist anymore."

"...what the fuck.."

Almost immediately, the fleet moved out in fear of fallout. The Zukariaans had just been robbed of another war.

---

Warroom Aboard the ZNS Pime Taradox

Strategos Iphlekos Memnotus took a deep breath, waiting for a response from an ensign on what had happened that would cause the ship to rock from so far away.

"Sir, the Kahanistani have nuked New Sodom and New Gomopilah, our operations were unable to even begin." the ensign stated, rather disappointedly. The sailors had been wanted to watch the fight from the ships for three days now.

"Excuse me? What the fuck?" the Strategos blurted out, suddenly another ensign moved into the room.

"Sir, the Doomani have used nuclear weapons on the Kahanistani. They've destroyed Metzuda. The war is over."

"WHAT? GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE BEFORE I BREAK BOTH OF YOUR LEGS." the Strategos stood up in a rage.

"Ye-yes, Strategos!" the two ensigns ran from the room, behind them they could hear the Strategos breaking things.

"STUPID PIECE OF SHIT TELEVISION." a crash could be heard. There went the nice plasma screen.

---
Several Hours Later
Doomani HQ, Northford

Strategos Memnotus had come to meet Propraetoris Silvanus and congratulate him on the victory in Kahanistan. He couldn't help notice, as he walked towards the Doomani command room in the large base, he couldn't help but notice Doomani servicemen giving him odd looks. He was a pagan, and he, in all honesty, didn't belong among them. As he stepped in, he was greeted with an air of drunken celebration. In one corner, two men were singing in Latin with their arms around each other. Silvanus himself seemed to be high, even.

Taking a look around, he shouted above the noise in relatively fluent Latin,"I am the Zukariaan Strategos."

Almost immediately a beer bottle flew in his direction and smashed against the wall next two him, and without even realizing who was talking, he heard,"Drink up ya damned pagan."

Two hours later, the Strategos was smashed and halfassedly singing along with several drunken commanders.