NationStates Jolt Archive

Antoniana Palace, Alerisia
New Kingston, East Antairees

Decisions are the ruler's job. No matter the situation, no matter the governmental system in place, during times of war, famine, or death, there is an inevitable level to which matters will always sink at which point it becomes the duty of one man to take charge. In the case of Prince Anton Kevaris of the East Antairees, there was no real decision to be made at the moment, he had already made up his mind several hours ago. The challenge of diction was Anton's largest hurdle now. How best to put his nation's future into words?

People of the East Antairees and of the World;

Over the course of human history, the expansion of territories controlled has been of the utmost importance to the growth of a nation. Growth as a nation, both economically and culturally, is directly bound to the growth of the nation's borders. The island-nation of the East Antairees has reached a point in it's history at which a decision has been placed before me. Our population is nearing the point at which the eight current islands of the Principality can no longer support them. With the overpopulation of my islands and the starvation of my people no longer a mere possibility but now an inevitability, I have turned my eyes outward, as no prince of the East Antairees has done before.

Several hundred nautical miles to the west of the East Antairees, the islands known as the Lesser Antairees have sat for centuries undisturbed. Native populations upon these islands are relatively advanced, compared to most natives, though they have been noted to show an "extraordinary penchant for violence" by Antairian sailors. It is my opinion that I may kill two birds with one stone by my next action.

And so, in order to end East Antairian overpopulation and starvation, and in order to end the prevailing barbarous rule of terror upon the Lesser Antairees, I formally declare the Lesser Antairees as an annexed colony of the Principality of the East Antairees, an order to be enforced by the authority of the 3rd Marine Expeditionary Force, now being dispatched to the islands.

An aching hand released the pen, and Anton's eyes surveyed the slightly smudged script. It was simple, really. Now to deliver it to the world.

(OOC: More to come eventually, the actual military stuff specifically, but open to comment and IC stuff until I get that up.)

Vetalian Chamber of Commerce, Vetalia City

"...with the support of our friends in the Ministry of State, I'm certain we will be able to gain significant concessions in the Lesser Antairees as a consequence of approving their administration in the islands."

"As I've previously mentioned, Mr. Pankratov personally delivered his personal economic assessment of the islands yesterday. Huge sums of money are potentially available through the development of tourism, agriculture, and entrepot services. Sugar and fruit cultivation alone, especially when combined with cheap labor, your company's distilleries, and the low-cost shipping services provided by Pan-Vetalian and Aeroflot, will generate considerable revenue for our firms as well as for the Chamber of Commerce itself."

"Infrastructure contracts and equipment will total in the billions, as will the liberalization and development program that will accompany our influence in the region. Our economic teams have already determined that we can engineer considerably beneficial terms for operation in the region should we support this annexation and ensure that it goes according to plan."

"Now, I believe we've all had time over the past two days to assess this situation and can proceed to a vote. All those in favor of Resolution 17, the General Plan for the Lesser Antairees?"

A chorus of "aye"s erupts around the lavish meeting room.

"All those opposed?"

Silence.

"Excellent. The resolution is hereby passed and we will begin immediate appeal to the Vetalian government to ensure a sufficiently pro-business policy program for the Lesser Antairees. I thank you all for ensuring the continued pursuit of our mutual interests and look forward to our mutual operation in this new region."

OOC can you change the font, i had to quote to read the letter

(OOC: Vetalia, I apologize for my confusion, but are you attempting to annex the islands yourself, or are you supporting my annexation?)

"This is Royal Marines 33rd Recon, reporting in. We've reached Target Alpha, over."

Aboard HMMS Resolution, a patrol frigate operating in the area, the small contingent of Makaarian Marines listened to the first broadcast from the small recon team dispatched to one of the Lesser Antairees islands. "This is Resolution, we read you."

"Activating recon camera..." came the reply, before the monitor switched from static to a crisp-clear black-and-white image. "We've got natives down on the beach. Looks like they don't know what's going on, over."

"No... no, that's just the way they normally behave. Any indications of Antairean activity? Over."

There was a few seconds pause. "Not yet. Request UAV dispatch to the area. Give us some warning before they arrive to get the camera online, over."

"Roger that. Recommend you keep constant radio contact. And for god's sake, keep your heads down. We don't know how the Antaireans will react if they find you here, but they consider this their property now. And the natives... just keep your heads down. Resolution Out."

The image on the monitor faded as the ship's captain looked at the marines, then turned to his second-in-command and said, "Prepare a report and dispatch it to Hamblegroun immediately."

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

The Houses of Parliament were an imposing building. On the banks of the River Hamblegroun, it was one of the most recogniseable monuments in Makaar, and one of the oldest buildings still left in the city. At the top of the Central Spire, the Prime Minister and his Cabinet took the most important decisions, usually on foreign policy, away from the prying eyes of the press, the public, and pesky opposition MPs, who had grown in number over the last elections that the centre-slightly-right Labour Party was slowly losing ground to the slightly-more-right-but-still-central Conservative Party.

Leaning against the huge mahogany table, the Prime Minister looked over a map of the Lesser Antairees. To his left, Admiral Woodhead pointed at one of the islands. "The Resolution is in the area, it's a large patrol frigate and the flagship of our naval presence in that sector. It got clearance from the Ministry of War to dispatch its Marine Recon contingent to the islands last night and the marines arrived in the islands this morning, Makaarian time - late afternoon their time. They're monitoring the area for the arrival of East Antairean troops. Nothing yet."

"What's the plan, then?" said the Prime Minister. The decision had already been made; under Article 5 of the Makaarian Constitution, Makaar was "bound by military might to defend the rights, cultures, and lives of free people around the world", among other stipulations. An intervention was inevitable.

The Admiral nodded. "This area isn't deemed normally volatile, so the Naval presence is limited. However, we can mobilise fleets from the surrounding locations. I think the best strategy is the dispatch of an intervention fleet. We land forces on the islands via landing craft and helicopter to repel an Antairean invasion."

The Minister of War nodded, before clicking his pen and saying, "Repel? Sir, we want to deter them. Repelling them implies a conflict."

The Admiral nodded slower. "That's the problem. We have the forces at port already - that's part of the intervention fleet - but the journey will be... weeks. We anticipate that Antairean forces will reach the islands long before our forces, unless they are extremely slow at mobilising. So this will be repelling an invasion rather than deterring it."

The Prime Minister nodded. "Then this needs a vote."

***

A few hours later, they had the majority they needed - Labour's MPs outnumbering the Conservative/National Coalition by a few votes. In Makaarian ports, landing craft were being loaded with troops and tanks, and the RAF calling in its helicopters to transport marines and troops from across the country.

http://i28.tinypic.com/2vdpleh.png
Official Communication
From
The Government of the Federation of Syba
To: The East Antairees

We are happy to hear of your annexation. Such practices have helped Syba survive in the past. You have our applause of your efforts.

Sincerely,
Kaylee Adrián
Interim President of Syba

http://i28.tinypic.com/2vdpleh.png
Official Communication
From
The Government of the Federation of Syba
To: The East Antairees

We are happy to hear of your annexation. Such practices have helped Syba survive in the past. You have our applause of your efforts.

Sincerely,
Kaylee Adrián
Interim President of Syba

http://i28.tinypic.com/2vdpleh.png
Official Communication
From
The Government of the Federation of Syba
To: The East Antairees

We are happy to hear of your annexation. Such practices have helped Syba survive in the past. You have our applause of your efforts.

Sincerely,
Kaylee Adrián
Interim President of Syba

(OOC: The ORBAT of my 3rd MEF stands as follows. I apologize in advance for all the nasty US tech, I haven't organized with NS tech yet:

Naval:
1 x Kitty Hawk class CV (HMS Indomitable)
4 x Wasp class LHD
10 x Ticonderoga class CG
16 x Arleigh Burke class DDG
Total: 21 surface combatants

Air:
90 x F/A-18E/F Super Hornet carrier-based fighter/attack aircraft
168 x CH-46 Sea Knight medium cargo/transport helicopter
Total: 258 aircraft

Land:
7,576 Marine Landing Force Personnel

The Wasp's are carrying 42 Sea Knights a piece, each of which can carry 25 fully loaded Marines to shore. I will get an IC post up as soon as possible, thought it may be as late as Tuesday. Apologies.)

The Colstream Parliament was full of MPs debating whether the annexation of the islands by East Antairees was a good or bad decision. After 2 hours debate, a decision was passed. A resolution was passed 250 votes to 50.

Resolution #150: East Antairees Annexation

This resolution give the Republic Of Colstream military a free hand to patrol the waters around the islands as a neutral force to keep the peace between East Antairees and Makaar. The resolution does not however give the right for the Colstream Navy to fire at both sides. This will only be allowed if either side fires upon the Colstream Taskforce. Although, force can be used if the taskforce is in danger of being attacked or the taskforce commander thinks that any danger is posed by air attack.

To Makaar and East Antairees:

Is this Ok to you that i am a neutral party?

OOC:

(OOC: The ORBAT of my 3rd MEF stands as follows. I apologize in advance for all the nasty US tech, I haven't organized with NS tech yet:


That's fine, neither have I - and my nation is years and years old :P I won't complain if you won't. Normally I use some stuff I made up myself, but usually it's just the same US, British, French, German etc. navy or equipment. As long as it's in keeping with your economy, etc. (for example, there's no way a basket case economy with 20 million people would have a single Nimitz-class carrier, whereas a Frightening economy with more than say, 500 million people, should have several).

My intervention fleet will consist of:

1st Intervention Fleet
1 x Admiral Jamesson class Aircraft Carrier (120 F-44 fighters)
1 x Ocean Class Power Projection Control Ship (4 EH-101 Merlin helicopters)
3 x Type 45 Refit Destroyers (1 EH-101 Merlin each)
5 x Type 42 Refit Destroyers (1 EH-101 Merlin each)
3 x Vanguard class submarines (1 EH-101 Merlin each)
5 x Type 18 Troop Transport Ships (6 EH-101 Merlin helicopters, 4 Chinook helicopters)

Each Type 18 carries 650 Royal Marines, so all in all that's 3,250 marines. The Type 18s only have a single cannon and a few machine guns, but they're outfitted with advanced sonar and radar to aid their escorts. The Type 45 and Type 42s are refit with longer-range, more powerful missiles, and advanced sensing equipment, etc. as a result of my massively inflated military budget.

The Type 45 HMMS Resolution is also in the area, along with several unarmed support ships of the Royal Fleet Auxiliary which transport supplies to Makaarian fleets far from port.

(OOC: Since I see from your factbook that you're online, I have a few comments. Your fleet looks fine to me, I look forward to the RP. I should be able to get a post up tonight, I've had massive amounts of homework the past few nights, but would you like a map of the islands as I imagine them? I can either use a one I've already created but don't necessarily like, or I can make a new one, though that would probably push my post into tomorrow... http://i57.photobucket.com/albums/g237/Zanziik/ImperialismIsland.png
(That's the premade one, I'm rather indecisive on whether I like that shape or if I want more an archipelago... Comments?)

@ Colstream: I'm cool with a neutral force.)

HMS Wasp, Troop Hold
Antairian 3rd MEF
15 kilometers east of the Lesser Antairees

The gentle seas that lapped against the steel sides of the Wasp, rolling her softly back and forth, were being preached as a good omen by the navy chaplains. The journey from the East Antairees had been slowed by fierce storms and high seas, but now that the time for action had come, the marine officers could not have asked for better conditions.

To the marines, the weather was an insignificant detail. Regardless of conditions, the landing would have gone forth. As their disembarkation grew ever nearer, each marine handled his nerves in a unique way. Many of the younger, inexperienced, troops were physically sick. Any greenhorn bold enough to stomach a scant meal within the Wasp's mess hall quickly regretted the decision. Veterans handled the experience in a decidedly different manner. Those with a sulking outlook on life retracted into their own world, stoic and alone. Many wrote letters to loved ones preemptively, and still more took the time to chance one more sin, perhaps their last.

Gambling, fighting and self-love (OOC: *cough*) were widespread. Drinking, forbidden by the military, was perhaps the only vice unrepresented in the microcosm that was the stuffy, smoky close quarters of the Wasp's troop hold. As each platoon was called via tinny loudspeaker to top deck to be shipped to the island by helicopter, their hands were folded and glances were cast. Opponents at the poker table they may be, but these men were truly brothers, and it was likely that some would not be present for the next night's first hand.

HMS Wasp, Top Deck
Antairian 3rd MEF
15 kilometers east of the Lesser Antairees

The moist Pacific air was ripped to shreds by the twin rotors of the Sea Knight transport helicopters taking off from the Wasp and her sister ships. Atop the flight deck of each ship, hundreds of navy crewmen rushed past milling marines, pushed to the edge by the tasks before them necessary to the operation of a naval disembarkation via helicopter. The marines watched as the Indomitable launched waves of attack planes in the distance. On the shore, the signs of warfare were already becoming apparent. A plume of black smoke spiraled menacingly skyward, no doubt the remains of a native strong point targeted by early smart munitions from the Indomitable's air wing.

Against this backdrop, the chopper ordered to carry Second Lieutenant Daniel Worth and his platoon into battle was being refueled quickly. As Lt. Worth briefed his men one final time, another chopper flew nearby overheard, it's rotors killing his words and rendering speech useless against the roar. Lt. Worth contented himself with watching the aircraft. It's speed was astonishing. A rough calculation put him and his men on the ground within two and a half minutes of leaving the Wasp. Noting the nervous look upon many of the faces around him, Worth wondered if two and a half minutes would be enough. There was little point to such thought, he reminded himself, and he was reassured by the thumbs up from the naval air crew, signaling the chopper as ready to go. He mounted the chopper swiftly, equipment clinking the metallic chimes of war. His men were aboard the chopper in under twenty seconds, and the bird was off the ground. It was an odd feeling, lifting off in a chopper like this. As his mind wondered whether or not his feet would ever touch ground again, the chopper progressed across the shallow waters quickly, drawing the lieutenant closer and closer to the hell of war.

(OOC: Makaar, I decided to just go ahead with a post. How you want to respond to this post is up to you. I can RP the men landing and killing some natives, but I'll give you a shot to get something in if you wish first.)

TCS Hannack, DDG-127
Patrolling Oscar Station
0515 Hours

Commander Mark Byrnes was in particularly foul mood this morning, which was saying something given his notorious temper. However, today's displeasure was aimed at his superiors and their absurd orders that he detach his ship from the convoy they'd been escorting and patrol the waters near some island in the middle of nowhere. Such "show the flag ops" as they were known among Tolvanic officers, were usually the province of bigger ships such as cruisers or carriers, but there were no available for independent duty and the Hannack was deemed the least indispensable for the escort run, so here he was. The fact that Fourth Fleet HQ had promised his vessel would be relieved in "two to four weeks" had not done much to improve his disposition.

While Byrnes could rightfully be called many unflattering things, he could not be called lazy nor could anyone question his competence as an officer. Even though he loathed his mission, he had every intention of discharging it to the best of his ability.

Byrnes wiped away his scowl and turned to his OOD.

"Let's make sure the locals know we're here Mr. Zhou."

The OOD, Lt. Pete Zhou Hannack's Operations officer, gave the Captain a small grin as he began to bark orders.

"RADAR, Conn - Light up '504 and '506 for 30 seconds then power down."

"Conn, RADAR - Aye sir."

"Helm, Conn - Make your course 285, speed 18 knots at my mark."

"Conn, Helm - Aye sir."

Seconds later the powerful SPS-504 and SPS-506 RADARs begin radiated energy in all directions for exactly 30 seconds. Once the RADARs shut down the Lt. Zhou gave his command and the Hannack sped off on her new course at 18 knots.

The entire series of event was designed to announce the Hannack's presence to both the East Antaireeian and Makaari forces in the area, but not to give away her exact location. After all sometimes were better off left secret.

OOC: The Hannack is a slightly modified domestically built version of this vessel (http://www.forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13292299&postcount=229).

08:00 Hours

A Boeing E-767 AWACs aircraft flew over the East Aintirees Fleet watching the action unfold below. Their orders was to watch but not interfere. This had been repeated several times during the briefings.
A RC-12N Guardrail Electronic Intelligence Aircraft followed taking pictures of the fleet below so the Colstream Navy could keep away from their positions o not to accidentally get in the way.

To East Aintirees:

The Flyovers are for strictly inteligence only. This intelligence will let us keep track of the operation you are conducting. These aircraft are not armed and will keep away from any of your fighters and only operate above 10,000 feet.

HMS Indomitable, Bridge
Antairian 3rd MEF
15 kilometers east of the Lesser Antairees

The situation and layout of a modern battlefield could change very quickly, a fact evidenced by the massive amount of new information being relayed to the crew of Indomitable's bridge from her RADAR picket line of Arleigh Burke class guided missile destroyers. It was all the communications lieutenant could do to relay the torrent of incoming messages to the intended recipient, and the bridge was alive with shouting voices and flashing screens.

The commanding officer aboard Indomitable (and, indeed, of the entire fleet) was Rear Admiral James Darling, an imposing man of about sixty years, tall and masculinely handsome in his well-kept uniform. To this man, the stress of the Antairian landing was almost insignificant, a mere annoyance. Scarce few things upset the Admiral, but the current events unfolding seemed to be making an impact upon him.

His eyes scanned the situation report given to him by the comm officer.

Unidentified DDG signature flash, location unknown
Foreign aircraft performing reconnaissance missions over 3MEF, Identifying as Colstream Neutral
RADAR signatures of large fleet inbound, no information.

The ground battle went well for the Antairians, but Rear Admiral Darling was not worried about the ground battle at this point, a few violent natives had been expected. RADAR signatures of large fleet inbound, no information. This mission may become more interesting than expected.

(OOC: Still going to wait for Makaar to have a chance before I RP the ground stuff... Just acknowledging those who have shown interest so far, really.)

OOC: Antairees, that's absolutely fine, all of it. I can't really complain about the map since it's your RP, but I haven't got any problem with it anyway so good.

IC:

"HMMS Resolution, this is Recon. Do you see what we're seeing?" The call came over the radio as the image on the monitor came into view. On it, East Antairees helicopters were landing their soldiers on the shores of the islands.

The images were relayed back to Makaar, where the Resolution was given it new orders. Defiantly sailing into what East Antairees now classified as their own territory, the Resolution broadcast on all frequencies to every Antairean ship in the area:

"This is His Majesty's Warship, the Resolution, of Makaar. We have been ordered to protect these islands. You are required to immediately leave this area and return to your country of origin by order of His Majesty's Government. These islands are now a protectorate of His Majesty; any attack upon them is an act of war against Makaar."

The message repeat itself as the nation's Makaarian Expeditionary Force loaded itself into C5 and C130 aircraft across Makaar to be airlifted to those small islands faster than the ships could reach them.

OOC: MEF contains 2,500 soldiers of the Makaarian Royal Guard (army elites).

HMS Indomitable, Bridge
Antairian 3rd MEF
15 kilometers east of the Lesser Antairees

To the communications officer aboard Indomitable, the threat had sounded menacing. To Rear Admiral Darling, the threat was merely a means of identifying another player on the battlefield.

"Communications," he barked, his voice abrasive and cold. "Reply to the Makaarians. Tell them they have no legitimate claim to the Lesser Antairees, and we will not abandon an island controlled by Prince Anton."

CH-46 Sea Knight, Carrying Lt. Daniel Worth's Platoon
Half a kilometer east of the Lesser Antairees

The Makaarian presence in the vicinity of the Lesser Antairees was unknown to the men of Lt. Worth's platoon, and it is hard to believe that at this point any knowledge of a foreign presence would make any difference to these men. The roar of the chopper's twin rotors drowned all speech, and so each man retracted into his own mind, watching the whitecaps below as they sped onward.

Lt. Worth took the last moment to pray for deliverance through the coming trial, and crossed himself. As the pilot looked back at him, Worth's face became taught, a window into his mind's utter focus. The cargo door of the Sea Knight was thrown open, and Worth's hand went instinctively to the handlebar running the length of the bay, protecting himself from the storm-force winds. The bay's pressure equalized just as the chopper began to drop. In this brief period of time, Worth knew it was key that he make the dismount from the chopper as cleanly and quickly as possible, twenty four of his men would be as close behind as they could manage.

The pilot glanced back once more and began the final drop. Worth crossed himself one last time and waited for the bump. As it came, Worth's eyes opened and he ran down the cargo bay ramp and onto the Lesser Antairees. Running immediately for cover, Worth kept an eye on the chopper. After all twenty five men were unloaded, the pilot pulled the stick sharply upward, lifting the chopper off just as suddenly as it had come. A cursory glance at his watched showed Worth that the action had taken just under a quarter of a minute. The ruthless efficiency impressed him.

Worth's mind went directly back to the mission. Distant gunshots could be heard, but there was little activity within hearing distance besides the men of Worth's own platoon. Still, caution should be practiced at all times, Worth's training chimed in. Keeping his head down, Worth made contact with each of his men, and his platoon gathered at the edge of a clearing about fifty meters from the insertion point.

In the clearing, there were two natives, a fact made obvious by their lack of civilized clothing. Although armed, the men were quite clearly frightened by the shock and awe of the Super Hornets attack runs and the unending line of choppers that had already put hundreds of Antairians on the island. A protocol had been outlined for dealing with the natives. Any natives that could be taken captive were to be stripped of their weapons and secured to local, immobile objects, such as a tree or a rock. Once all non-compliant natives had been dealt with, detainment teams would comb the island for these captured natives and transport them to Civilization Centers, where they would be assimilated to the Antairian culture and given citizenship, once properly civilized.

With this in mind, Worth signaled to his men the go ahead and raised his rifle. After a few moments the platoon had completely encircled the clearing, and Worth gave the order. His men entered the clearing quickly, rifles trained on the natives, who quickly dropped their rifles and attempted to run. One of the natives was leveled by a punch thrown by a startled private, while the other somehow managed to escape the platoon's circle. He was gunned down quickly by the two marines nearest his escape route, and his bloodied body lay motionless on the island floor.

Worth moved quickly to the first native and affixed plastic wire ties to his hands, then did the same to a tree nearby. The semi-conscious native looked at his gunned down partner with horror and lost consciousness completely, and Lt. Worth's platoon relaxed slightly. The radio man of the platoon relayed their coordinates to Indomitable out at sea, where the position of the native would be logged, and the platoon moved on, their objective of the clearing of the Lesser Antairees still active.

TCS Hannack
Patrolling Oscar Station
0637 Hours

Tucked away in one corner of the Hannack's CIC was a small room not much bigger than a closet. This compartment was seperated from the bustle of CIC by an actual locking door and was even sound proofed. The room was home to the ship's Electronic Warfare Shop and housed some of the most sensitive electronic equipment in the Commonwealth, only the Com Compartment had tighter security than the EW Shop.

The Hannack's senior EW Officer, Lt. Peter Keyes, leaned over one fo the room's three consoles and studied the data being displayed. In the hour since the Hannack had detected and catalogued the signatures of nearly a dozen RADARs.

Most were East Antaireeian surface ships, primarily SPY RADARs from several Burke and Ticonderoga type ships, but more interestingly one of the signatures was from an E-3 Sentry of unknown origin.

Keyes frowned as he digested this data, the Hannack was far enough out that the Antaireeians most likely couldn't see her, but the Sentry certainly should be able to.

Lesser Antairees

Harold Leach flipped shut his satellite phone. For several weeks he had been stuck in this tropical hell-hole concluding deals with the local natives. Working for one of the largest Oceanian resort companies, Leach had been selected to travel to the Lesser Antairees and buy up land for a future resort, a native paradise of sorts.

In a loose linen shirt decorated with brightly coloured flowers and khaki shorts, Leach rubbed his temples while looking directly at the native sitting across from him. "Not good, old chap," he said in a low voice in his stiff Oceanian English–knowing full well that the man could not understand.

After a long pause, Leach looked up at the man before continuing on in the native language. "Seems that your neighbours to the east want your land as much as my people." He held up his phone, "and your neighbours shall be arriving here soon. But, with that," he added pointing to a contract sitting neatly on a wooden table. "and a little more we may be able to help you keep your land."

Admiralty, Georgetown, United Kingdom

On another Pacific archipelago, a white-haired man, rather round but holding a distinguished air along with his cane, walked slowly into a dark room decorated with high-resolution screens themselves decorated with icons and symbols. "What do we have, gentlemen," the man asked. The room stood at attention with one younger and noticeably thinner individual stepping forward.

"ORNI reports a minor amphibious force off the coast, two dozen ships including five carriers. All evidence indicates that naval infantry forces are being landed upon the islands against native opposition," the younger officer gesturing towards a live satellite feed with small trails of thick black smoke drifting over the ocean, carried by the winds. Off the coast, small grey specks dotted the sea.

"And the Cavalier?" the old admiral inquired.

"En route from her patrol, sir. Her last update placed her approximately four hundred kilometres from the Lesser Antairees. She should be within maximum engagement range shortly but is still under standing orders."

The admiral nodded, acknowledging the status report. "The Prime Minister and First Sea Lord want to know when we can put our own amphibious unit to sea."

"The Temerarious at Port Hamptonshire is the ready unit, she can set sail with forty-eight hours and be on station three days after that."

"I shall need to confer with the Prime Minister once more, but inform the commanders that they may be sailing for the Antairees within forty-eight hours."

Foreign Office Statement

His Majesty's Government does not recognise the annexation of the sovereign peoples of Lesser Antairees without their consent. Some senior leaders of the population have, however, transferred sovereignty from their government to His Majesty's Government in exchange for the defence of the United Kingdom's newest territory. Accordingly, the United Kingdom will be dispatching forces to defend the people of the Lesser Antairees.

Gavin Astley
Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs

(OOC: We're closed now, I've been waiting for Azazia. No more new participants from this point on please.)

A Colstream S-1 Ghost Intelligence Fighter flew directly over the East Aintirees Fleet. The X-1 Fast Flash Camera activated as the Fighter started to accelerate to 500 MPH. Several Photo's were taken before the Aircraft made a course for its Carrier.

Aboard one of the fleet of C-130s passing over the island, Colonel Briggs, commanding this particular operation of the MEF, spoke to his men over the dull roar of the engines, his words transmitted to the other C-130s and C-5s about to drop their precious cargo; the first waves of the Makaarian soldiers deployed to defend the small native population of this tiny island.

"We are going to be the first in; once you land, group at the co-ordinates given to you before we took off. Do not attempt a landing in the forest, because even if I get to you in time I will not be trying to save you. We'll land on the beaches, or in the water if you have to, and then proceed to the small clearing where the second landing zone has been chosen and clear it for the next waves. Rules of engagement are simple; you are authorised to fire for self-defence and for the defence of the native population. You are not authorised to fire on the native population without permission from me - we want to befriend these people."

The lights at the cargo bay doors switched to a bright amber as the doors slowly opened and the aircraft began to descend. The MEF troops stood in four neat rows as the calm of the night below them slowly revealed the tropical paradise that could become their tombs. Clipping their parachute lines to the pole that ran along the top of the aircraft, they sounded off, each man checking and loading his standard-issue G36C assault rifle.

As the aircraft crossed into what had been designated a battle zone, its automatic transponders activated. The C130 and C5 were not stealth aircraft; thus, it was deemed that rather than try and avoid an engagement, it would be better to remind potential enemies exactly what they would face if they attempted to attack the aircraft. Broadcasting on all channels, a repeating message read the standard diatribe:

"This is an unarmed aircraft of the Makaarian Royal Air Force. We are authorised to enter this area. Attacking this aircraft will be taken as a declaration of war upon Makaar, and your nation will be treated accordingly."

The lights at the cargo bay doors went green and the men piled out of the large aircraft, their parachutes opening behind them as they began their descent. The landing site had been chosen for its remoteness; it was on the other side of the island from the landing areas of the East Antairees troops.

Landing on the beaches, they quickly drew their weapons and secured the area, small groups patrolling the nearby forests as more set up a row of tents that would become a temporary headquarters.

HMS Indomitable, Bridge
Antairian 3rd MEF
15 kilometers east of the Lesser Antairees

Rear Admiral Darling growled as he received the new situation report from his communications officer, which sent the young lieutenant scurrying back to his station, casting timid glances back at the enraged man every now and then.

So the Makaarians think I care that their 'unarmed' planes shouldn't be attacked, he thought. He punched the steel wall next to him without so much as a grimace, the reverberating sound sending an eerie hush throughout the bridge.

"WALLACE," he barked at the communications officer he had scared off earlier. "Reply to the Makaarians. Tell them that by entering sovereign Antairian airspace, they have already started their war," he turned away from Wallace as he scurried to his post, and spoke now to flight officer, in charge of coordinating the seventy Super Eagles housed by the Indomitable.

"Mike," he began, a menacing grin flashing across the aged face. "Bring those birds down."

"Aye-aye, Admiral."

The order was relayed to several pilots already over the island for attack runs, and headings were changed to intercept the Makaarian cargo aircraft.

TCS Hannack
Patrolling Oscar Station
1125 Hours

Commander Byrnes was in a considerably better mood than he had been earlier in the day. The latest FLASH Traffic from Command indicated that both Makaar and Azazia had placed the Lesser Antairees under their protection and were deploying forces to protect them. As a result his superiors saw no reason to leave a single ship to monitor a war the Commonwealth had no interest in, so he had been recalled.

"Mr. Zhou, set a course for Sand Island, we're going home."

Zhou could barely conceal his grin as he barked the orders that sent the Hannack home.

IC:

"Makaar, this is Alpha Flight. We have multiple contacts on an intercept course. Cargo is still deploying, request new orders, over." Group Captain Barnes glanced anxiously at the small screen between him and his co-pilot which told them the grim spectacle which lay ahead of them.

"Alpha Flight, this is Makaar. You are ordered to continue deploying your cargo. Prepare to deploy chaff and activate ECM. If your aircraft is hit, you are ordered to self-destruct and bail out. Over."

Barnes glanced over his shoulder to the cargo bay where the last of the soldiers he had been carrying were jumping from the aircraft. They would be done before the Antairees fighters opened fire... he prayed. At that moment, his console started to let out a piercing warning noise as the words "MISSILE LOCK" appeared across it. His co-pilot flicked the switch which deployed the chaff; out the back of the cargo plane, they could see other C-130s and C-5s doing the same. Another switch turned on the plane's electronic counter-measures, designed to change the course of missiles and give the aircraft time to escape.

As bullets tore through the weaker points in the fuselage, the two looked back to see their cargo bay empty. At least they had completed their mission, Barnes thought, before reaching under his seat and sliding on his own parachute, his co-pilot doing the same. In front of them, an Antairean fighter shot past, the noise of gunfire and the jet engines of the enemy fighters filling their ears.

"Makaar, this is Alpha Flight, we are under attack. Cargo is successfully deployed. Changing course to leave the area and rendezvous with the fleet..."

"Alpha Flight, Makaar. No time. We've got you on satellite; those fighters can take you down too easily. You are ordered to self-destruct and bail out. Repeat, you are ordered to self-destruct and bail out."

As his co-pilot left his seat, pulling himself to the cargo bay door, Barnes flipped open the cover on the self-destruct switch and pressed it. A small read-out showed him that the other aircraft in his group were doing the same, to pevent the technology aboard falling into enemy hands. As the countdown started, Barnes opened the weapons locker, pulled out his G36C, hauled himself to the cargo bay door and threw himself from it.

On the ground, soldiers with Stinger missiles targetted them skyward, not actually firing for hope that the fighters wouldn't target them, as other soldiers entered the dense forestry to locate and use its natural cover and avoid being spotted from above.

The men of Lieutenant Worth's platoon had marched on for several minutes unimpeded before they had come upon any more natives. These ones, garbed in the same manner as their brethren, looked less as though they were scared and more as though they were awestruck. Heads tilted backwards, the natives were watching the almost simultaneous detonation of the Makaarian aircraft above them, Antairian fighters screaming away victoriously. Worth could only imagine the terrible awe it must inspire in such a simple people.

Motioning silently to his platoon, Worth raised his rifle and prowled forward, the group of seven natives as yet unaware of their presence. It would surely be a fearsome sight, twenty five camouflaged men creeping forward to battle, rifles at the ready.

A snapped twig began the frenzy. A careless step, a foolish miscalculation. Such mistakes led to death in war. Worth's head swung menacingly toward the source of the noise as a single shot rang out simultaneously. Hitting the ground, Worth's body maneuvered by rote to the nearest cover, in this case a fallen tree trunk, and his mind assessed the situation. He had seen Parker's head explode in a pink mist. Whether by luck or by skill, the native had scored the ultimate hit. There was no point in rushing to Parker now, he was gone.

Running over the situation in his mind, Worth made several quick decisions. He yelled to his platoon, pleased to hear the suppressive fire beginning already. Drilling was indeed efficient training. Peering over his log, Worth was startled to see a native only feet away, firing randomly from behind a large rock. Thinking quickly, Worth pulled the pin from the safety of a grenade on his belt and lobbed it past the rock. An agonizing scream showed the round had been on target, after the percussive explosion, and Worth looked quickly for another target.

As his head spun, the final native was being taken down by joint rifle fire from three of Worth's platoon members. Calling out, Worth determined that none of his men had been injured besides Parker, who was indeed now on his way to Hades, confirmed the platoon mate nearest his body.

Looking at his watch briefly, and then at the mutilated body of a native nearby him, Worth motioned his team onward. The constant distractions were putting his platoon off schedule.

Prime Minister's Office
Georgetown, United Kingdom

Rodney Ingrahm collected the papers arrayed in a neat fan atop his desk, tapped their bottom edge twice upon the smooth and polished top of his wooden desk and then placed them carefully inside a leather folder sitting at the far edge of his desk. "Thank you, gentlemen," the Prime Minister said concluding the meeting with his economic advisory council, only after his brief statement looking up to see the ministers and mandarins filing out slowly with sentences conducted in hushed whispers.

"They are simply worried about the rising inflation, sir," an older man offered from a seated position at the side of the room. Sir Reginald Laird was chief of staff and essentially the second-most important person in the United Kingdom, after the Prime Minister. He had watched the sullen-faced technocrats banter back and forth about inflationary pressures and the effects upon consumer spending and the resultant trade balances (or imbalances) et cetera, et cetera. While not a meeting wherein a decision needed to be made, the Prime Minister had listened quietly, his own face drawn though simultaneously uncompromisingly stoic.

"I know, Reg, I know. But I am far more concerned about–"

A sudden knock on the closed door distracted Ingrahm, who turned over to see his secretary at the door, "Sir," the young man spoke after being recognised, "Admiral Atkinson and the First Sea Lord are here."

"Do send them in," Ingrahm replied, waving his hand at Laird who had asked non-verbally if he should be elsewhere. The two men stood up and shook the hands of the older admiral, cane and all and the shorter, dark-haired man, a former submariner who had just a few years ago been sinking Oceanian ships.

"This is about the situation in the…" Ingrahm trailed off, failing to recall just what new territory to which he was sending ships and sailors.

"The Lesser Antairees," Radovan Noskovic said, completing the Prime Minister's sentence. As First Sea Lord, Noskovic was the civilian head of the Royal Navy. Since its inception in 1912 at the birth of what would become the current United Kingdom, the Royal Navy had enjoyed such prestige and power that it alone of all the armed forces managed to have a separate cabinet-level minister and a separate command structure. Hence, the Defence Secretary's conspicuous absence.

"Any developments, Radovan?" Laird inquired.

"At present, forces from East Antairees continue to land upon the islands and orbital reconnaissance indicates ongoing resistance. The Office of Royal Navy Intelligence had pinpointed an additional naval force in theatre; however, they will need another few hours to gather information. At present, though, it appears an amphibious force with carrier capabilities. The Admiral here can provide more detailed information upon the elements of our response agreed upon yesterday, Admiral," Noskovic motioned to the professional head of the Royal Navy to continue with the briefing.

"Mr. Prime Minister, Sir Laird," the oldest man in the room spoke quietly but with an unquestionable authority. "The HMS Temerarious is the current flag of the ready deployment marine force, she is based at our Port Hamptonshire facility along with the assault carrier HMS Havock that would carry the bulk of the reinforced Royal Marine regiment. Until this morning, the Royal Navy was prepared to sail with just the Temerarious, the Havock and several escorts–however, the rapid progress of the Antairees amphibious invasion presents a significant problem."

Atkinson paused and made his way to a seat, promptly sitting down without the explicit invitation to do so by the Prime Minister. The rest of the room quickly followed the admiral's lead, however, without comment. Atkinson then withdrew from a folder several high-gloss, highly-detailed satellite photographs of Lesser Antairees. "Once even a small area has been consolidated, the enemy will be in a position to present a formidable defence against our own invasion of the islands. This will require reinforcements to assist the Royal Marines in dislodging the Antairees from fortified positions. Consequently, I have compiled a short list of additional Royal Navy ships and formations that I would like to attach to the current ready group."

"What are we talking about?" Ingrahm asked.

"Three light carriers, including the Temerarious, the assault carrier Havock, one dreadnought, the Royal Sovereign, four cruisers, twelve frigates, eight corvettes, two sloops and two RFA auxiliaries."

"A force of six or so has ballooned to," again Ingrahm paused, though this time to do a quick computation, "thirty-three ships."

"Of which only thirty-one could rightly be considered combat warships, and of those two of limited general capacity for war-fighting and eight with more marginal–though by no means negligible–contributions."

Prior to his government service, Ingrahm had served in the Royal Navy to earn scholarship money for university classes and as a reserve officer commanded a corvette. He appreciated Atkinson's attempt to respect that history. "And what are we looking at in terms of ground forces, Admiral?"

Atkinson nodded and absently tapped his fingers upon the top of his cane. "Just over two thousand Royal Marines, Mr. Prime Minister. With a few more days of preparation, we can have a few thousand more deployed to the islands but this is the limit for immediate and rapid deployment."

"Will it be enough?" Ingrahm had seen the estimates, a fleet composed of several aircraft carriers stood between the Royal Navy and the Lesser Antairees. If they were landing significant ground forces, and Ingrahm had no reason to doubt that, than a single Royal Marine Expeditionary Unit could be at a distinct disadvantage.

"It depends entirely on the degree to which East Antairees seeks to contest our offer of support to the natives. If they accept it as an unalterable fact, the Royal Marines should land and fortify a demarcated border. If, however, they seek to annex the entirety of the Lesser Antairees, that is a different situation entirely."

"And your opinion, Admiral?" Laird asked.

The seasoned officer settled back into his seat and took a deep breath before replying. "I would suspect that these commanders and potentially these leaders need to prove something to themselves and to their population. They will likely seek to annex the entirety of the territory unless a face-saving agreement can be reached–and at the moment they hold the advantageous bargaining position. Blood will be shed, Sir Laird."

"Radovan," Ingrahm followed up, "how long until we can get a second expeditionary unit in theatre?"

"Four or five days perhaps."

"What about an aerial insertion?"

Noskovic shook his head. "For that, sir, you would need to talk to Quentin," he replied, referring to the Defence Secretary. "If I were to guess, sir, I'd say you could have army reinforcements in theatre within 24-48 hours. But you're going to have to deal with the fact that we do not control the skies, let alone the sea by which they will be resupplied.

"Sir," Atkinson added, leaning in to face Ingrahm, "to that end I have a suggestion."

Royal Air Force Station Whiteland

For nearly two hundred kilometres, the only significant landform surrounding RAF Whiteland, besides the towns supporting the airfield on the small island, was the Sea of Azazia, itself surrounded and protected by the Home Islands littered with their own RAF stations. RAF Whiteland, however, enjoyed their protection for the fact that it was home to several long-range strike squadrons.

It was from those very squadrons that twelve large, swept-wing bombers lumbered out of reinforced hangars and underground storage facilities. Ground crews hurriedly attached fittingly large and heavy missiles to weapons racks. A further sixteen smaller bombers, with similar reduced RCS design emerged from their hangars to be fitted with missiles while simultaneously from others stations, RAF fighters and tanker aircraft took to the skies to loiter over the Pacific at great distances from the Lesser Antairees.

Within the hour, the bombers took to the clear, cloudless blue skies of the Pacific their engines glowing to the ground crews silently wishing them luck. Once in the air, the strategic bombers rendezvoused with their fighter escorts and proceeded to head towards the Lesser Antairees, carefully observing radio silence and depending upon Oceanian airborne command aircraft for information on any potential threats for their hours-long flight.

Foreign Office Statement

Once more, His Majesty's Government demands that the East Antairees government cease all operations directed against the people of the Lesser Antairees. The United Kingdom will not stand idly by while her newfound friends and allies are subjected to an illegal occupation by a foreign force.

Gavin Astley
Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs

"Retaliation, sir!" cried Air Marshall Sir Hugh Boydmann, slamming his fist onto the Prime Minister's elegant mahogany desk with such force that the windowpanes shook. "A display of strength is the only thing invading thugs like the Antaireans understand! We could have a bomber wing - we could have twenty bomber wings in the air within 20 minutes!"

The Prime Minister nodded, his calmness juxtaposing that of the battle-worn Air Force chief. "A retaliatory strike would not help the situation. We have troops on the ground already, and -"

"Those soldiers are defenceless from an air attack," said General Hayes. "They're taking cover in the forests now, but it won't shield them forever, especially with Antairean troops actively searching for them. Now, if you please..."

The lights dimmed and the huge television on the left-hand wall lit up, displaying an error message in Makaarian before switching to a satellite image of the Antairean carrier. "This is the main platform for air assets against Makaarian troops. It's responsible for refueling and re-arming the enemy fighter force. Taking it out would not only destroy their aerial dominance, it would ensure that the Antaireans know exactly who they're dealing with." Hayes looked at the Prime Minister proudly. "We have B2 bombers ready for your order, but just to make sure we hit it, I've ordered our submarines to prep their cruise missiles. They're within range now; they could hit any of the ships in the Antairean fleet. Of course, that would give away the fleet's heading; from that they could work out it's location."

The Prime Minister looked down at his folded hands. "Then it's not adviseable. A retaliatory strike here will provoke another on our fleet, and it's imperative that they reach the mainland. Bombers it is."

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

At an indescript RAF station in the Makaarian Highlands, the central control location for the Makaarian Bomber Force, a flight of 12 B-2 Spirit bombers taxied to the runway and left the airbase, their stealth and radio silence masking their approach as their pilots checked their targets; the Kitty Hawk class aircraft carrier which threatened their fellow servicemen. Adequately spread out, they would be invisible to radar, invisible to missiles, and invisible to their targets.

HMS Indomitable, Bridge
Antairian 3rd MEF
15 kilometers east of the Lesser Antairees

The situation for the 3rd Marine Expeditionary Force had deteriorated to it's current state with alarming speed. The RADAR picket had spotted the incoming missiles first, and an alert had been sounded fleet wide, bringing all available weapons to bear in the protection of Indomitable. As the Ticonderoga class guided missile cruisers and the Arleigh Burke class guided missile destroyers fired anti-ballistics missiles at the incoming threats, technicians aboard the same ships began electronic counter-measures, in a desperate attempt to befuddle the incoming missiles.

With a heading offered by the incoming missiles, twenty four Super Hornets were dispatched to locate and assault the platform from which the munitions had been launched. The lack of RADAR signatures besides the missiles suggested stealth aircraft as the platform, and so the pilots of the Super Hornets would have to rely on visual target acquisition, no small feat of aerospace skill.

The crew aboard Indomitable breathed a small sigh of relief as a radio transmission came through, indicating that almost all of the incoming missiles had been downed by ABM fire. The shock came in the form of a large explosion, only seconds after the radio transmission. A stray missile, most likely locking on to the strongest radar signature available through the mess of ECM, had collided with the port side of the Ticonderoga nearest Indomitable. With a strong list to port, it was clear that the ship had taken immense damage, possibly enough to make her unrecoverable. Admiral Darling angrily dispatched a rescue crew from Indomitable, and swore under his breath. All he could hope for now was that the Super Hornets could kill a few of the Makaarian aircraft before they escaped.

His Majesty's Naval Base Devonport
Devonport, United Kingdom

From the cobbled walkway that ran the length of the waterfront, Vavrinec Sevcik stood motionless with his elbows planted firmly upon a white-painted fence. His eyes gazed off towards the breakwaters that shielded one of the most important naval facilities in the UK from the tempestuous nature of the Azazian Sea.

"Good morning, sir," sounded a familiar voice from behind the commodore.

"Good morning, Thomas," Sevcik replied without turning to find Thomas Cavanaugh, one of the commanders under his direct command as commander of a frigate squadron based here in Devonport. "I take it your ship is ready to put to sea?"

"Indeed, sir," replied the man, slowly taking up a leaning position alongside the fence next to Sevcik. "You cannot provide any more information on our destination or our mission, can you Commodore?"

Sevcik shook his head, turning slowly to face Cavanaugh and letting his back lean against the wood. "Unfortunately not, Tom. Just make sure that everyone's aboard and stores are secured because we're shoving off at 14:30."

"Does this relate to that whole business with APOC, sir?" Cavanaugh inquired after a quiet moment between the two.

In response, Sevcik simply shook his head. "Even if it were, Tom, would you really expect me to answer that? Anyway," he continued, not needing to answer the rhetorical question, "I'm meeting with the admiral near noon and then with you and the other frigate captains by video-conference once we're at sea. Once we get to sea you'll have your orders, Tom. Now get going back to your ship."

He hoped the last part did not come across as irritation–though it was. Sevcik, however, rather wanted to enjoy the usual calm of the morning before the ratings and junior officers and civilians awoke with hangovers suffered by late hours at the pubs off the base in Devonport proper. He heard Cavanaugh's shoes click upon the stones and returned to the gentle breeze and the rolling flags of the various warships in the harbour.

HMS Cavalier
Three Hundred Kilometres North of the Lesser Antairees

"Bring us to six-five metres, Mr. Jones," the submarine's executive officer ordered rather plainly.

"Six-five metres, aye, sir," Operations echoed and moments later the deck of the nuclear submarine shifted and digital readings of the submarine's depth below the Pacific surface began to climb towards zero. The XO had taken the watch from the captain, who had been on watch for nearly two days without rest to ready the crew for what he perceived to be an inevitable conflict. And so when he had presented that small fact to the captain, the senior officer reluctantly left command of the closest Oceanian asset to his executive officer.

"ASDIC," the executive officer spoke into a handset, addressing the compartment most other navies labeled sonar, "any contacts?"

"Fraggles one-seven and two-one, same course and speed as earlier, sir," the officer replied, referring to two neutral merchant ships that the submarine had been tracking for hours.

"Very well," the XO replaced the handset and looked across the compartment. "Raise the ESM mast," the XO continued.

Within minutes, the Cavalier had raised her ESM mast followed by her optronic periscope in order to check for surface contacts aside from the freighters. Nothing found, the submarine descended back down to the depths of the ocean and continued to sail south towards the Antairian fleet. The executive officer, after securing the submarine, headed towards the captain's cabin where he found the man snoring through the hatchway. He laughed after it required several repeated tries to rouse the man who had so vigorously contested any claims that he looked exhausted.

"What do we have Geoffrey," the drowsy captain asked with a yawn, motioning for the XO to enter the cabin before shutting the hatch.

"This, sir, from command." He waited a moment until the captain began to read the piece of paper before continuing. "The Antairians have ignored two ultimatums from the Foreign Office to cease operations in the Lesser Antairees and we are now authorised to conduct offensive operations against Antairian naval assets in theatre."

"This says nothing about sailing up to their home waters," the captain muttered.

"No, sir. Apparently the Admiralty would rather keep the geographical scope of this conflict limited." The two men had been hoping that once hostilities erupted the Cavalier would sail for New Kingston and sink the whole of the Antairian navy. "However, as you can see at the end of the orders, the Admiralty has also launched an aerial strike designed to target the Antairian expeditionary force."

The captain nodded in silence. A guided missile submarine, his twenty-four heavy anti-ship missiles each carried 815kg high-explosive warheads. The Antairian fleet, at some three hundred kilometres, was well within their maximum range and as such could likely ingress at a lower altitude to hinder Antairian attempts at early detection. "Return to Operations and sound general quarters, Geoffrey. Ready a salvo of eight and I shall be up in a moment."

With a nod, the XO left the captain to quickly dress and splash some cold water upon his face. It took very little time to bring the submarine to general quarters. She rose to a more respectable depth from which she could safely launch her missiles before the captain walked into Operations.

"Captain," the XO spoke upon handing over command of the submarine, "missiles one through four and twenty-one through twenty-four are ready, sir."

"Very well, XO, launch missiles one through four and twenty-one through twenty-four."

It took seconds for the hatches to open along the length of the submarine, compressed air forcing the missiles towards the surface, near which rocket motors engaged and propelled the missiles into the clear blue skies. They would travel for most of their route at high altitude at a sub-sonic speed before dropping to a low-altitude approach. Initial guidance was inertial from the satellite data provided by ORNI, however, the missiles enjoyed a datalink that would allow a single missile to 'pop-up' and briefly switch on an active radar to guide the swarm on their final approach first towards the fleet carrier, then if sunk, the amphibious assault ships, and lastly should all the carriers and amphibious assault ships sink the various cruisers and destroyers. As they raced off into the distant horizon, the Cavalier descended deep into the cold, dark waters of the Pacific before taking a radical course change to the east in order to quickly escape her launch position–and to be ready to engage any reinforcements setting sail from East Antairees.

A Colstream Navy Los Angeles Class Submarine on the task of monitoring the East Antairees Fleet came to Periscope Depth 20 Miles East of the Lesser Antairees. Its Communication Mast was raised and a signal sent out. The Signal had been sent to the Colstream Ministry Of Defence that the East Antairees had landed in the Lesser Antairees. This Signal was sent not in code so the East Antairees Fleet knew that they were not threatening the East Antairees Fleet in any way. After the Signal was transmitted, the Communication Mast was lowered and the Sub dived back to its prearranged depth and continued its mission until it needed to send another transmission later on.

(OOC: I apologize, but I will not be able to get any further posts up until most likely Saturday, Winter Carnival week at school.)

The B-2s, being informed via satellite that a flight of Super Hornets had been dispatched towards their position, assumed a new formation, each aircraft climbing to a higher altitude and changing its course dramatically, swinging around and heading towards the Makaarian fleet, in the hopes of reaching their protection.

The fleet was told of the situation by controllers watching the events in Makaar, and 60 of the Admiral Jamesson's 120 F-44s were launched to provide cover to the bombers as they retreated, another 20 launched to cover the fleet from above in the event of a surprise attack. With F-44s in the air and heading towards the approaching B-2s, it was likely that the Antaireans would be able to locate the fleet, which was now within radar range of the Antairees; thus, the decision was made that cruise missiles would be launched from the submarines.

Targetted with co-ordinates provided by satellite images, and locked with the IR signals from the massive aircraft carrier, one of the fleet's Vanguard-class submarines, the HMMS Incorruptible, prepared and fired off her entire complement of 23 cruise missiles, the only missile left in her firing bay a Trident-II ballistic missile armed with a variable yield nuclear warhead - nothing special, considering it was standard procedure for the Vanguards to carry at least one when out of port on combat operations.

Nonetheless, an act of war had been committed against Makaar when its aircraft had been shot down; in Hamblegroun, Prime Minister Brown, in the presence of the joint chiefs of staff and about 20 armed guards, was handed a large brown briefcase. He entered his 4-digit entry code carefully, knowing that one incorrect key push would destroy the valuable contents contained therein, necessitating a trip to Themosicoim - The Most Secure Computer In Makaar - to print out new copies.

There was no confirmation that the key he had entered was correct. Instead, the tiny screen prompted him to hand it to the "Second Signatory" - the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff - who keyed in his own code, away from the eyes of the Prime Minister. Finally, the other two chiefs of staff keyed in their own codes, each keeping his code secret. The briefcase opened. Inside were two booklets; the first, tentatively labelled "Emergency Plans for the Governance of Makaar After An Attack", was cast aside in favour of the second, a booklet simply labelled "MAKAAR". The seal on the side read, "Only To Be Broken By Head Of Government After Act Of War." The Prime Minister took his silver letter-opener, slid it between the pages and the seal, and pulled upwards, ripping through the plastic circle to give him access to the booklet. Inside were a list of over 700 different codes, the Prime Minister thumbing through to find the one for the present date and time. Having located it, an aide handed him a small keypad, on which he keyed in the code, before pressing the "single warhead" button and entering the index number of the warhead aboard the HMMS Incorruptible. The signal was encrypted and transmitted, arming the warhead aboard the Incorruptible, ready for its crew to launch it.