NationStates Jolt Archive

“This is Bravo 2-6, we have reached the staging area.” The radio crackled.

“Bravo 2-6, this is Hawk 6-4, we copy you, await further orders.” Replied the division. Commander, Major General Anatoly Herskov.

For weeks, forces of the Peoples Republic of Berackistan have been amassing near the Estannium border, preparing for the invasion. Under the pretense of war games, these units, a entire army, with full artillery and air support, practiced field maneuvers, and other tedious distractions while the entire formation, over several weeks, rallied outside of Provilski, the western moist city in Berackistan.

The entire town was overrun with soldiers. The town with a normal population of 100,000 had swelled to nearly quadruple that. The frozen fields, beginning to thaw with the first warm spring sunlight, were jammed with armored vehicles, transports, and artillery pieces. The local airport had been converted entirely too military use, and an entire wing of Berackistani fighters, bombers, transports, and other support craft, nearly 3/4th of the nation’s air armada, were standing ready.

Major General Anatoly Herskov paced in his command post, set up in a cathedral commandeered from the local parish atop a large hill overlooking the area. At 54 years old, General Herskov had lived through the civil war preceding the current administration. His wife and daughter were killed in the bloody fighting that had overtaken the nation years ago, killed by civilian police forces attempting to stop a demonstration. Herskov, a mere captain of an armored Calvary unit at the time, had led the charge that had ousted the Provisional government form the government building in Libengrad, the capital city. Taking his Cav unit deep behind enemy lines, Captain Herskov had risked his life to free his Fatherland from the short-sighted and foolish civilian government. Herskov believed whole heartedly in The Cause, and wanted to bring order and discipline to the “corrupt liberal” western nations. The fools could not see that, without a strong central government, and absolute authority of the ruling party, a nation will descend into chaos, time and time again. Nathrin, after fighting 10 years or bloody conflict, had not learned their lesson. It appears that the lesson needed to be taught a bit more forcefully. The Liberal democracies of the west were like hard-headed school children, their skulls too thick with grand ideas for the reality of the world to sink in. In truth, Herskov felt sorry for them, and hoped only to bring their bloodshed to an end.

“Sir, Field Marshall Kersov sends word, the operation is a go. The Air Force just launched its first sorties, and will be crossing the Estani border shortly. 124th Airborne forces, and the 86th airborne artillery brigade, are deploying at this moment, to seize Ayyubid air base near Nur ad-din, to prevent an enemy counter-attack, Marshall Kersov sends word that lead elements of the 1st and 5th Recon are to begin their advance, with the main elements following behind. All lead units are to have crossed into Estannium by 0900

Overhead, the noise of supersonic fighters was audible over the din of military men and their machines. General Herskov stood, and turned towards the tactical map. “Begin the advance. Ensure the large artillery pieces are in position to provide fire support to the airborne forces, but we want to take the base intact, as much as possible, anyways.”

“Yes sir.” The aide shouted, and left the tent to issue orders to the troops

The Invasion of Estannium was about to begin…


In the air over Berackistan, crossing into Estannium air space

“This is Falcon 1, Falcon flight is crossing into hostile territory, we are painted by hostile AA, request permission to engage” the disembodied voice said over the radio

“Roger that, Falcon flight. All Berackistani air elements, you are cleared to engage!” the Berackistani air controller stated

“Rodger that, control, Falcon weapon free.” Switching to the squadron tactical frequency “This is it Falcon, clear all enemy air defenses to the target area. “.

The fighters broke formation; the bombers began their accent to bombing positions. Missiles flew off the hard points of fighters, slamming into ground targets, clearing the way for the transport planes…

The air invasion of Estannium had begun…

In the air several miles south of Ayyubid Air Base

“Go, go go, get the hell off this plane!” shouted Sergeant first class Jefferski, waving his men out of the plane….

Below, search lights and sirens can be heard. Fires and explosions light up the sky. On the ground, airborne forces, light armor, and motor support prepare for the assault on Ayyubid Air Base…

The first Berackistani forces were on the ground

The land invasion of Estannium had begun…

Interstate 78, preparing to cross into Estannium

“Enemy contact!” Lt Boris Verinsiv, commander of the new MBT-72 main battle tank, the newest weapon in the Berackistani armored arsenal, shouted.

Ahead, a small border crossing station was silhouetted in the distance by the early morning light. Nothing more than a wooden guard shack, and a red and white stripped pole gate, and visitor’s center, and small parking lot. The entire compound did not seem to be military in nature, and no armed personal beyond Estannium National Police, with their sidearm and a single shotgun, stood to oppose the lead element of the 4th armor divisions.

Verinsiv settled his scope on the guard shack, seeing the slack-jawed expression on the guards face, staring at the massive armored charge as if it were the legions of hell swarming towards him. For all that, it might well be.

“Gunner, target! HE, Right 40 degrees, elevation 5, fire!”

“Onn the waaay…” the gunner replied, as the tanks massive cannon roared, spewing death and destruction

The bloodletting in Estannium had begun. Berackistan was on the march, and nothing, no force on earth, would stand in its way!

ESTANI HIGHWAY TWELVE, 0503 HOURS

The highway patrolman had had a very boring night, so boring that he had nearly dozed off a couple of times. So when he heard the roar of jet engines he got out of his patrol car and stretched before trying to get a plane with his radar gun. After all he was bored and was curious about their speed. He didn't even consider whether or not they were foreign, nor did he anticipate being the first casualty when the air-to-ground missile traveled from the aircraft to his car in a second and a half, rendering that part of the highway unusable and sending a pillar of smoke up into the predawn sky.

AYYUBID AIR BASE, 0505 HOURS

Being this far south, the base had only the most primitive of radar systems. So at first, those in the control tower thought that the enemy aircraft were simply a civilian airliner that had veered off course. After numerous attempts to raise the plane over the radio failed a small piston engined plane was scrambled to visually signal the pilot to land. After it went up, one of the radar operators scratched his head. It seemed as though that airliner was moving too fast; then the prop-job flared and disappeared from the screen. It wasn't until the windows began rattling in their casings that they figured it out and activated the air raid sirens.

ESTANI BORDER CHECKPOINT, 0515 HOURS

Ibrahim stared in consternation as the armor wave rolled down upon his checkpoint. He started moving to the radio when one of the tanks fired and its shell passed through the front wall, where it turned the radio into so much scrap before passing through the rear wall and causing whatever was behind to detonate. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Ibrahim slowly edged around the building and began to shake with rage. Scattered all over the parking lot was what was left of his classic Vitolian kámēlos. He had saved and scrounged for nearly twenty years to buy one, and then these...these...these infidels had destroyed it! He turned and started stalking back towards the approaching tanks, bring his shotgun up to his shoulder. He lowered the pole gate and began to pull the trigger. It wasn't until the third or fourth shot that what he was doing sank in; he was standing behind a thin wooden pole firing his pump action shotgun at tanks that were hundreds of yards away. Ibrahim decided it was time to make a tactical advance to the rear...just as fast as he could run. He was angry over the loss of his car, but he still had his duty: he had to get warning to command. Behind him, the guardhouse collapsed.

ESTANI CITY NUR AD-DIN, 0630 HOURS

In Nur ad-Din, the citizenry were blissfully unaware of what was going on outside the city. In the predawn gray, the faithful made their way to various mosques for their morning prayer. At one particular mosque on the outskirts of town the congregation heard a deep throaty rumble and it felt as though the ground was quaking. Suddenly, the side wall burst inward as a large tank entered the building it was the proverbial Kool-Aid Man. Many people were hurt by falling masonry and a few lay dead under the tank, though why it had entered the building at all remained a mystery. Nobody fled, many of those nearby moved to help the injured while the rest continued to pray.

ESTANI HIGHWAY TWELVE, 0503 HOURS

The highway patrolman had had a very boring night, so boring that he had nearly dozed off a couple of times. So when he heard the roar of jet engines he got out of his patrol car and stretched before trying to get a plane with his radar gun. After all he was bored and was curious about their speed. He didn't even consider whether or not they were foreign, nor did he anticipate being the first casualty when the air-to-ground missile traveled from the aircraft to his car in a second and a half, rendering that part of the highway unusable and sending a pillar of smoke up into the predawn sky.

AYYUBID AIR BASE, 0505 HOURS

Being this far south, the base had only the most primitive of radar systems. So at first, those in the control tower thought that the enemy aircraft were simply a civilian airliner that had veered off course. After numerous attempts to raise the plane over the radio failed a small piston engined plane was scrambled to visually signal the pilot to land. After it went up, one of the radar operators scratched his head. It seemed as though that airliner was moving too fast; then the prop-job flared and disappeared from the screen. It wasn't until the windows began rattling in their casings that they figured it out and activated the air raid sirens.

ESTANI BORDER CHECKPOINT, 0515 HOURS

Ibrahim stared in consternation as the armor wave rolled down upon his checkpoint. He started moving to the radio when one of the tanks fired and its shell passed through the front wall, where it turned the radio into so much scrap before passing through the rear wall and causing whatever was behind to detonate. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Ibrahim slowly edged around the building and began to shake with rage. Scattered all over the parking lot was what was left of his classic Vitolian kámēlos. He had saved and scrounged for nearly twenty years to buy one, and then these...these...these infidels had destroyed it! He turned and started stalking back towards the approaching tanks, bring his shotgun up to his shoulder. He lowered the pole gate and began to pull the trigger. It wasn't until the third or fourth shot that what he was doing sank in; he was standing behind a thin wooden pole firing his pump action shotgun at tanks that were hundreds of yards away. Ibrahim decided it was time to make a tactical advance to the rear...just as fast as he could run. He was angry over the loss of his car, but he still had his duty: he had to get warning to command. Behind him, the guardhouse collapsed.

ESTANI CITY NUR AD-DIN, 0630 HOURS

In Nur ad-Din, the citizenry were blissfully unaware of what was going on outside the city. In the predawn gray, the faithful made their way to various mosques for their morning prayer. At one particular mosque on the outskirts of town the congregation heard a deep throaty rumble and it felt as though the ground was quaking. Suddenly, the side wall burst inward as a large tank entered the building it was the proverbial Kool-Aid Man. Many people were hurt by falling masonry and a few lay dead under the tank, though why it had entered the building at all remained a mystery. Nobody fled, many of those nearby moved to help the injured while the rest continued to pray.

Ayyubid Air Base

“This is Ranger 6-4, fire support! Request one round, ground burst, HE, at these co-ordinates” The ranger officer, a 2nd L.T named Jerisov shouted into his radio.” He had taken cover behind a concrete jersey wall, while his men, pinned down, exchanged fire with an Estani machine gun team inside one of the air bases security bunkers. Ranger 6-4 was tasked with storming and security the flight line. Ahead, in the early morning light, outlines of several helicopters could be seen. Beyond them, the hangers, doors closed, stood.

The base appeared to be undergoing renovation. According to Intelligence, Ayyubid Air Base was an active military instillation, the largest in the region. However, th half completed buildings, and parking ramps littered with heavy construction equipment suggested otherwise…

“Sir! I highly recommend you have them fire a marking round first.” Suggested the platoon sergeant, Sergeant Davisiv

“Quiet, Sergeant, I am in command here!” retorted the L.T

“Sir.” Replied Davisiv, and returned fire with his RA-76 carbine, losing a burst of automatic gunfire towards the emplaced position.

“Fire direction center to Ranger 6-4, suggest you use marking White Phosphorus rounds for accuracy.” The FDC officer reported back over the radio

“Negative, FDC, I’ve got men dying down here, fire HE, ground burst on target, fire for effect.” Shouted Jerisov

“Uh…Rodger that, Ranger 6-4, shot over.”

“Shot, out.”

Beside him, the platoon sergeant sank lower to the ground, placing his hands over his helmet

“You are a coward Sergeant!” shouted Jerisov.

After a few moments, the freight train rattle of the 203mm artillery shells passing overhead was heard. Almost instantly after that, the shell exploded…

About 700 yards behind the target, right in the middle of the helicopter fuel depot.

A bright orange fireball erupted into the morning sky, illuminating the entire base, as a pyre of orange fire shot several hundred feet into the air. The helicopters lined up on the parking ramp were obliterated by the massive explosion

Davisiv just started at Jerisov in amazement

“Uh…ummm…did I read the map wrong?”

“No, not at all, I assume you meant to destroy several thousand gallons of useable jet fuel! And not the position we’re pinned down by! shouted Davisiv…”sir.” Added a bit late

Jerisov was too taken aback by his mistake to answer

Luckily, the explosion had drawn the attention of, well, everyone within several miles of the base, including the Estani machine gun team in the bunker

“Forward, charge!” shouted Davisiv, standing up, and sprinting forward, firing his rifle.

Troopers swarmed over the bunker, gaining entry, and overrunning the position.

“Ranger 6-4, Ranger 6-6, what the hell was that!?” shouted the commander, Captain Oritiv through the radio.

“Uh, the Estani’s detonated their fuel reserves so we could not cease them, sir.” Jerisov replied.

“Yeah, that’s what happened.” Mumbled Davisiv

“Shut up, sergeant. Let us move forward and claim the prizes in the hanger!”

The ranger team formed up and advanced across the smoldering flight line, reaching the hangers, the teams prepared to breach.

“one, two, three, go!” shouted Davisiv, as he kicked in the door.

The Rangers stormed into the hanger, fanning out, prepared to defeat the Estani defenders.

“What the hell is this?” shouted one of the soldiers

Inside the hanger, several bulldozers were parked, as well as several pallets of what appeared to be large concrete pipes, and several crates of labeled “Roofing Shingles” and wooden 2x4’s stacked inside.

Along the rear wall were supply crates of hammers, nails, screws, nuts, bolts and other hardware

“We risked our lives to take over a hardware store!? Shouted another solider
“Way to go Intelligence.” Said Davisiv

“Quit, you cowards, lets check the other hanger.” Sad Jerisov

Approaching the second hanger, one trooper stated to another “Wanna make a bet, 10 to 1 gets you there are lawn mowers and mouse traps in here.”

Throwing open the door, revealed a better prize

“Ah, here we go!” said Jerisov

Inside were 3 small attack helicopters, and maintenance equipment

“Maybe not sir, These are Estani SH-55’s. they’ve been in service since before the Berackistani civil war…” said Davisiv

“Son of a fuc-“ Jerisov began

“Attention all Ranger Units, this is Ranger 6-6, we have secured the control tower, and it appears that Ayyubid Air Base is under our control. All team’s reassemble and prepare to clear the runway for incoming transports.”

Nur-a-din, several miles inside Estannium

“Sir, we are approaching the town.” Reported Corporal Jeffis Zerikov.

“Continue into the town, then, according to the map, there’s a major transit hub for the area ahead, we’ll go ahead and level that on our way through, and then circle around to link up with the main body.

“Rodger.” Replied the tank driver

The medium tank, an MBT-64, continued through the early morning fog. The driver, who was focusing on watching threats around the tank, did not notice the dark colored ornate building directly ahead of the tank until it almost too late.

“Commander! There’s a building in the way!” shouted the driver!

“So? Run through it its not on the map, but, it hardly matters.”

“Continue on course”

As the large tank plowed into the wall, the tank rose a few inches above the ground as it worked its way over the rubble, driving into the interior of the building. The driver and commander, on their scopes, caught a brief glimpse of people, some of them laying down, some kneeling, and some preparing to flee from the armored monster that had just invaded their privacy.

As quickly as it had begun, it ended; the tank exited the opposite wall of the building, and trundled on its way

“What did we just hit?” asked the gunner

“Might have been a mosque or church?” supplied the driver

“Heh, that’s funny, we should have shouted “Allah is pissed” on the intercom on the way though

The crew laughed, things were going well.

“There’s the transit building, over to the right.” Shouted the commander “Gunner, target, right 2 o’clock, HE, fire when ready.”

“Round fired, direct hit, its rubble.” Replied the gunner

On the ground in Estannium 08:30 hours

“Yes, Field Marshall, we are proceeding as planned.” Major General Herskov shouted into the phone. “Can you hear me, sir?”

The speaker on the other end, presumably Field Marshall Kersov, answered in garbled, short phrases, sounding more like a dog stuck on the bottom of a swimming pool than a human being. “N- “I ca---t he-r you. G-dda—th-s- ho—ibl- Estani p-ones!”

Even with the distortion, his rage was obvious

“Field Marshall? Can you hear me? We are proceeding towards the Western boarder virtually unopposed, taking light casualties.”

“W-hat? Y-u ar- adv--cing?” the muddled voice on the other end shouted “F—k t-is, g-et b—k t- me l—ter, p—ferably w-th a d--ned r-dio, yo-re c-st-ng m- l—g d-stan-ce!”

The line went dead

“This is bullshit!” shouted General Herskov, un-holstering his sidearm and placing 4 rounds into the telephone switchboard in the small Estannium Telecom operators room in the a small town off of Interstate 78.

Surprised aides jumped from their seats and hit the ground. Others merely started on in shock as their commander placed round after round into the telephone switchboard

Only Senior Master Sergeant Keronski, the division NCO, stood his ground, and did not flinch at the sounds of the pistol rounds discharging and slamming into the infernal telecommunications device.

“General, sir that was a damn shameful waste of ammunition sir.” Keronski stated bluntly.

“God damnit, the radio is on the fritz, and these damned Estani telephones are useless!” said Herskov

An aide burst into the command post, snapped to attention

“General sir! Reports received from Ranger teams, they have secured Ayyubid Air base, and are ready to receive incoming aircraft.” He reported breathlessly

“That would be wonderful news corporal, if we had a damned radio or working phone!”

“Sir, we could use another radio.” Keronski stated blandly

“We could I just thought this would work just as well.”

“But without a radio, we can’t contact the Division artillery, sir.”

“I’m aware of that Sergeant.” Replied Kersov shortly

“Yes, sir, of course sir. I’m merely suggesting we could….commandeer a radio, to request a helicopter bring us a new radio?” Keronski suggested
“Yes, good, idea, go make that happen, we need to continue moving, we can not get bogged down in fighting in this theater.” Herskov stated, emptying the rest of his magazine into the switch board

Keronski shook his head; he never understood how men could become so enraged they would lose control of themselves, and waste perfectly good ammunition.

“At once sir.”

Herskov grabbed a megaphone, and jumped atop a stack of ammo crates. Turning the device on, he shouted

“All units, prepare to advance! We will reach the western boarder by nightfall!”



Military Command Center, Libengrad, Berackistan

Field Marshall Kersov slammed the receiver down “God damn! Stupid useless Estannium telephone system!”

“Sir.” The aide who had appeared at his desk stated

“What do you want?” growled Kersov

“Sir, Grand Admiral Zerkiev reports that the 1st and 2nd Fleets are underway, including the Battleship Oroskingrad, and will be on station in 3 days, to conduct blockading duties.”

“Finally, a bit of good news.”

“More, too, sir. Ranger command reports that they have seized Ayyubid Air Base, and are ready to receive reinforcements via transport plane, as well as refueling operations for fighter and bombers. However,, they request a sizeable portion of jet fuel, and a maintenance and repair crew be sent in first, as well as a firefighting brigade. It appears the jet fuel reserves suffered an attack…or sabotage, we aren’t quiet sure, during the assault. In any case, the fuel exploded, and the fire could threaten to destroy the base.”

“Make the preparations, w must not be bogged down in Estannium.” Said Kersov, “You are dismissed”

“Sir!” the aide shouted, and turned to carry out his orders

Kersov leaned back, and stared out the large picture window over the square below. Down below, military units from the Libengrad division paraded, showing off their colors and skill to the gathering crowd of civilians. News of the invasion had reached the population, and war rallies were being held in all major cities. Faint music, bass and cadence drums floated softly in through the window.

Kersov stippled his fingers, and pondered. If the resources could be, seized quickly enough, it may quell the population’s hatred for the government. Now, they were focused outward, given an enemy to hate. Should that enemy not be crushed quickly enough, the hatred would be turned on the government. That could not, must not, be allowed to happen…

Estannium, and Nathrin to the west, must fall, and be brought into line, efficiently, brutally, and utterly, before the fires of nationalism burn out it he hearts of the people…

Meanwhile, in a blissfully unaware Nathrin...

"An excellent speech, Minister!” The Representative pumped Chambers' hand, grinning ear to ear.

“Absolutely!” another agreed, “While force won the war, it is your eloquence that shall win the peace!”

But Chambers simply nodded, shook hands, waved, and ducked out the door, the guards closing it behind. He leaned against the wall, only now, that he was out of sight, did he let himself gasp and start shaking.

“Cold, Proff?” Brehn grinned.

The Minister jumped, surprised by the large man. “Where did you- oh, bugger it. I don't want to know.”

“Professional sneakiness, sir. I had to ply myself away from several young women eager to get in tune with the new... *ahem* lay of the land, politically speaking, of course.”

“Charlie, I'd discipline you for abusing power-”

“But I warned you fair and square. Look, I'm old and corpulent and I got a bad ticker, all I have is two bit charm and a bit of clout. Let me use what I got.” He grinned, opening a tumbler and pouring out the amber liquid. “Drink, Dave?”

“No. You should probably- forget it.”

“Atta boy.”

Chambers valued Brehn above all others. The lecherous old salesman, despite a professed love for all the trapping of privilege, was a magnificent bastard. He could sell dehydrated water to oceanographers, it was said. He was a master of the “favor” and the connection, relying on slick charm and lightning wit to survive nearly anything. And he was one of the few true friends left, anymore. He'd been there through the war, the oil that moved the gears of Chambers' plans.

He'd wanted Brehn to be his second, but the other had refused, saying, “You can't survive in politics with as many vices as I have, not in open and fair elections, anyway. And no, I'm not giving up my vices. They're mine, and I love them.” Then he'd taken another swig, grinning ear to ear.

So Brehn was his personal advisor, with no official role, but everyone in the newborn administration knew, what the man wanted, he got. Chambers was pretty sure this included things he'd rather not hear about. So he didn't ask.

Now the snake oil salesman leaned back in the chair, recovered from the Royal Armory (Chambers' chair). “You did good, Proff. You did good.”

“I've never been so petrified. Not before academic review, not in the war. And they all seemed so fake, the way they tripped over each other to throw flowers to me. I feel... dirty...”

“Haha, that'll fade. They're just not used to down-home government, Mister Prime Minister, your Excellency, Sir.”

Chambers winced.

“Heh. They're still pandering to you like they did to Francis, and all before him. Or to the Commission. Hell, if you didn't pander, and put your kids up for pederasty, you got your block lopped off.”

“Charlie...”

“Sorry, sorry, pardon this old bumpkin-” sly grin “-his indulgences in rhetoric, Your Excel-”

“You're done, Charlie.” Chambers couldn't help but smile. “I suppose I should appreciate the niceties while they last, then. Soon, the rebuilding will get difficult, and they'll be trying to hang me.”

“If we're lucky. Could be tar and feathers.”

There was a knock (more of a pound) on the door. Brehn grinned. “Speak of the devil!”

Chambers glared without malice, and motioned to the guard, who pulled it open, allowing in two men who nearly tripped over each other trying to get in first.

The man on the left was in his late sixties, thinning silver hair brushing his still piercing eyes, tucked within his ruddy face. He was Archibald Hale, the railroad magnate, who'd sought out his deceased son's favorite teacher, even if he was a “bloody royalist sheep”.

The man on the right was thinner, with a widows peak and thick bifocals. He dressed in layered clothes and clutched his clipboard tightly, as if holding all the knowledge of these halls. He was James Wallis, former Royal Historian and Ambassador to the Houses of Parliament, who'd attached himself to the late insurgency against the Commission, and followed its leader into power, even if that leader was a “wild eyed radical”.

Both began to speak at once,

“Prime Minister, I have most dire news!”

“Your excellency, our nation is in peril!”

They stopped, glanced at each other, stopped mid sentence, started again, stopped again, and glared. Chambers waited. Brehn burst out laughing, taking another drink.

“I will not be fodder for drunken sport!” sputtered Hale.

“Though we both may perish, I must concur with my misguided companion!”

Chambers waved, cutting Brehn's retort. “Enough, you agreed, let's move on. Dire peril, and other sorts of calamity... what's going on?”

“Berackistan just turned Estannium's border into a parade ground for their army, and they're marching merrily this way.”

There was a moment of silence, as the men considered what they'd just heard. The hovering axe of a Berackistan invasion, feared for so long during the civil war, had just fallen. The dark irony of it waiting until just after Nathrin began to taste hope again was not lost.

Brehn summed it up best. “Oh, bullocks.”

NUR AD-DIN, NOONISH HOURS

Winded and tired, Ibrahim finally made it into town and came to a dead stop. He had had to ditch his uniform shirt and his shotgun to avoid being stopped by the invaders. The invaders had thus far allowed him to pass unmolested on the story that he was worried about his family, since he wasn't dressed like a soldier they had apparently bought it. Even from here he could see the column of black smoke rising from the airbase off in the distance, he shuddered to think what kind of bomb the invaders had dropped to cause damage like that.

As he ran through the city he could see children throwing rocks at the tanks as though trying to drive off a dog. As near as he could determine, the tank crews had failed to notice. He continued until he reached his neighborhood on the far side of town where he once again halted, this time to stare through the mosque he regularly prayed at. He jogged over and sought a close friend. Sahib was an older man with a thick beard a deep booming laugh that originated from somewhere in his impressive growth. He kept an apartment here in town but owned vast tracts of land outside the city. Sahib hugged him hard in greeting. “Ibrahim, we feared the worst when this army appeared in the city.”

“They just rolled over the checkpoint with no warning. They destroyed my car almost as soon as I saw them. But what has happened here?” he gestured to the walls.

“It was the morning prayer. While we gave praise to Allah, one of those tanks came through the wall and left through the other wall. Many were injured by falling bricks and many more were killed by the tank rolling over them as they prayed.” Sahib's face grew darker as he ended, his voice carrying an angry edge. “It has been decided that following the afternoon prayers there will be a demonstration, will you take part in it?”

“No.” Ibrahim shook his head, “I have to let someone know what is happening here. It looks as though the base has fallen so I have to find a different way. Besides that, do you honestly believe that a demonstration will work?”

“I do not believe so, no. I will not take part, yet I will be there all the same. I think the foreigners might do something drastic. I and others will try to prevent it.”

“Prevent it? What are you talking about? How can you stop soldiers and tanks?”

“You haven't heard?” Sahib glanced at him in surprise.

“No, what?”

“You just lost the game.” Sahib grinned, “in all seriousness, though, the mosque was the defining event. The invaders have been labeled as infidels.”

Ibrahim let out a low whistle. “I will be there, but I must send word north.”

“Here, “ Sahib pressed a set of keys in Ibrahim's hand, “There is a CB radio in my closet.”

Ibrahim thanked him and set off for Sahib's apartment.


NUR AD-DIN, 1300 HOURS

Ibrahim waited across the square from Sahib, watching the demonstration as it moved towards the foreign army-no, he reminded himself, the infidels-that paused, as though not expecting the crowd. As he glanced around he spotted Ahmed, a young textile worker who showed maturity and patience far beyond his age, and Jairi, which surprised Ibrahim. Then again, maybe it wasn't so surprising; Jairi dealt in many things, some of which would prove useful and others the infidels would surely seize. There were others there of course, but they were the important ones.

Meckenwald -1700 hours-

King Wilhelm V of Vitoli stood on the balcony of his private suite, staring east. Already, the first few trucks were leaving for Estannium, in response to an urgent telegram from Jairi, a most reputable businessman, dealing mostly in "water." The trucks were loaded to the gills with SIR-49 rifles, and DRRs, the Vitolian variant of the classic RPG. Of course, the cargo was well packed inside a wall of gallon jugs of Vitoli Pure, a water brand with a most ironic name.

Beautiful, thought Wilhelm, The war has only been on for a few hours, and already my people are seeing the first of it's rewards. Now, I only have make sure that the manufacturers don't become too greedy, and allow the Berackis to get too close to our borders by refusing to give credit to the wonderful water merchants of Estannium.

He turned back from the balcony, eyes glinting with sheen of wealth, and began to dress for his national speech later in the evening.