NationStates Jolt Archive

Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine.
-Solomon’s Song 001:002

***

Preparations had been made long ago for this day, and some would argue that it was prophesized thousands of years ago in the annals of Kak Khemet’s most storied literary creation: the Holy Bible. General Nthato Motlana Mbuto Kamiri Je Nuro III claimed, and his people believed, that he had written the piece himself in a previous life, when he was both the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit. When he created a religion he had titled Husqvarna. Unfortunately, scribes at the time felt this was not a good name for a religion and instead based it on the name General Nthato had assumed at the time. It would become Christianity, and from that point forward it would bear little resemblance to the piece of writing he had done thousands of years prior. Husqvarna, as history would say, would become a chainsaw manufacturer.

Nevertheless, the song of which General Nthato composed to prophesize his great future action would become the rallying cry of a nation prepared for war. The People’s Republic of Kak Khemet would soon enter the world stage in a dazzling display of fire, light, and incredible ineptitude.

***

Because of the savour of thy good ointments thy name is as ointment poured forth, therefore do the virgins love thee.
-Solomon’s Song 001:003

***

The enigmatic ruler himself, General Nthato Motlana Mbuto Kamiri Je Nuro III, stood before a crowd of thousands crammed amidst the shanty town that surrounded the marble and plywood structure that composed the seat of power of the People’s Republic. The people murmured, cheered, and shifted in masses, as they eagerly awaited for General Nthato’s speech to conclude so that they could receive their daily rations. Police armed with bamboo sticks and cardboard cutouts vaguely resembling assault rifles shouted at the crowd to keep them in check. Soon, the cameraman, a rail-thin man holding a small camcorder signaled that his battery had died. The General shifted his weight and began speaking, only to be cut off by an aide, and told of the dead battery. He grunted and waited for a new battery. Now, the signal was given that he was ready to speak. General Nthato then spoke in his thundering baritone voice, in native Khemeti language, and translated to English for your enjoyment:

"Today, our glorious people obtain new godly flight, one godly retribution and compensation. We must conclude our transaction and balance our debits and our credits. No longer not those we break into a run pay for the client it will not pay. On the days now, I have a knitting needle with my advisers, and them everything to say the same thing: Yes, Sir. And I agree. This flight will be accomplished and we will be victorious in our bookkeeping.

Above the years, I assembled and constructed the impressive stockpile large weapons. The largest, by orders of magnitude, will be our glorious GhKLMNnnnn... " His voice trailed off as he looked to his notes for guidance,"... Uh, one. Yes. Our glorious, um, nuclear weapon. We have into our posession ballistic missile to possession of 2. They sat unattended as children without the observation, but today we will take a step inside and let us point out they in right-hand direction so that they will power become accomplished adult. They gave purpose to them, it was which necessary to strive for, but these are not some immaterial purpose such as wealth or health, but instead of, they are targeted on nation Automagfreek. No longer their tyranny in the world not will continue to threaten of our ideals servitude to me.

I gave order in order again to be gathered in order to look our warring efforts at this threat of immature proportions. Their children will be crushed by our tanks, and they will smother their fishes by our ships. We will strike their birds with our planes. And at the end, we will stand by the victorious between shining by the lighthouse of city ULE. I greet this false lord Dreadfire with the open handles and will ask his forgiveness. When it repents, I will grab it increasingly with my handles and will fall in love with it as my of neighbor.

Prophets and I they stated millenia ago, we will win in proportion to, and we will bring into our possession fabled the fifth province Kak Khemet: Stihl. Automagfreek will be Stihl. And they will be ours. Exactly as prophets and I stated millenia ago. I will transmit order in order to begin attack as soon as my speech through and after I attend restroom. Today I ask, that my people give to me support and peace in this time of war so that we will power raise above our anxieties and again gathered as one spirit. National spirit Republic Kak Khemet."

He threw his fists in the air and an immense noise emanated from his gut. It was some cross between a scream, a guttural bark, and a grunt. It was his farewell to his people, the same noise he issued after every speech and conversation he undertook. His people similarly screamed in a raucous, but, joyous cacophony. Unfortunately, none of it was in relation to his speech, but rather to the food they were about to receive. This videotaped speech would be played around the world, for certain.

Today would be the start of a new chapter in Kak Khemet’s short, and getting shorter, history.

***

Draw me, we will run after thee: the king hath brought me into his chambers: we will be glad and rejoice in thee, we will remember thy love more than wine: the upright love thee.
-Solomon’s Song 001:004

***

This grand action had been long anticipated by General Nthato, ever since he discovered the nuclear weapons amidst an abandoned warehouse. When the janitor called to him to inform him of what he discovered, General Nthato simply told him he was a fool for telling him of something he had placed there using his mystic powers. He had found two crates, each housing a nuclear weapon of supposedly high yield. The crates were marked: AIR-2 GENIE. In reality, however, they were nuclear-armed air-to-air rockets with 1.5 kiloton warheads, abandoned here long ago by some air force which had staged an alert detachment of interceptors here.

General Nthato commissioned his ‘nuclear physicists’ to determine how to best utilize their newly discovered weapons of mass destruction, and thus, they consulted the mystic oracle. The oracle was an aged computer discovered in the same warehouse connected to a telephone line, and when a special button was pushed, it came alight with a large white screen displaying the oracle’s name: Google. The physicists pecked keys on the keyboard and typed in “nuclear wepon”. What they found were archives of stories and informatives all speaking of something called a silo. They found a photograph of such a construction, and General Nthato soon commissioned their building.

Within weeks, two massive underground nuclear missile silos were constructed atop soft hills in the Khemeti interior. Over two hundred feet deep, they were truly marvels of construction in Kak Khemet, and many parties were held within their confines. However, at the bottom of each silo’s massive missile shaft sat the incomparably small and gleaming white AIR-2 Genie nuclear rocket. Just like the photos and drawings, massive cables and cords were attached to each, smothering them in a sea of wires that nearly blocked them from view. Two personnel from the People’s Republic of Kak Khemet National Air Force watched over them for 20 minutes each day, the remainder being spent consuming various liquors, sleeping, and playing games. One was stolen for a short time, but recovered a few kilometers away where a lonely peasant, who had tried to have his way with the missile, eventually decided it was similar to a wild boar and decided to cook it over an open flame. Thankfully, it was recovered before it got hot enough to ignite the rocket fuel and send it careening in the general direction of civilization.

However, now, the two rockets were on high alert and being prepared to fire. The cables had been removed and it was assumed, since they were placed in silos and they were ‘nuclear missiles’ that they would guide themselves to their target. Moments later, the command was given to fire, and technicians armed with 9 volt batteries and some copper wire started randomly poking them in their electronics ports. Finally, with successive blasts of fire and flame, each lifted into the air and quickly screamed into the bright blue sky, leaving a trail of white vapor.

***

I am black, but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, as the tents of Kedar, as the curtains of Solomon.
-Solomon’s Song 001:005

***

Meanwhile, the grandest fleet that Kak Khemet could produce had been assembled near the shoreline of the great country. Dozens of ships were arrayed in a haphazard formation, most of which were civilian in nature. Fishing boats sported harpoon guns, and private recreational boats sported fishing rods and nets. The biggest vessels, however, were the vast assortment of vessels within the control of the People’s Republic of Kak Khemet National Navy. They were tightly crowded around the most impressive ship in Kak Khemet’s arsenal. Her giant stature amongst her contemporaries showed his stature and regard in the nation, as long as one dismissed the blotted paint job and streaks of rust across her hull. Hundreds of personnel crowded the decks of this boat, the PRKKNNS General Nthato patrol boat. They cheered, waved, and furiously swung banners and flags as the crowds on the beach cheered them on. Soon they would go to war.

Unfortunately, the mass of personnel on the one side of patrol boat caused it to slowly roll starboard, and eventually, the pride of the Khemeti navy capsized in front of thousands of cheering Khemetis. A nearby torpedo boat, believing war had already begun and the first shot was fired by some hidden ship of the Freekish Navy, immediately turned port and throttled her meager powerplant to full power. She trotted along the waves at about twelve knots as she tried to escape. Her captain, and crew, unanimously decided to defect to Nobamba. They accomplished about 500 meters into their goal before their engine blew a rod and the boat sputtered to a stop. The crew abandoned their uniforms and dove into the sea to swim to supposed freedom.

Automagfreek was in store for a surprise awakening.


***

Look not upon me, because I am black, because the sun hath looked upon me: my mother's children were angry with me; they made me the keeper of the vineyards; but mine own vineyard have I not kept.
-Solomon’s Song 001:006

Bump.

We're no strangers to love
You know the rules and so do I
A full commitment's what I'm thinking of
You wouldn't get this from any other guy…

***

All had so far gone exactly as General Nthato had planned. The missiles had been launched and, were now, undoubtedly, air bursting over their targets thousands of miles away. They would create spectacular balls of light, thunderous noise, and create a gigantic mushroom in the sky, he surmised of the event in his thoughts. He saw the pictures and videos of the giant mushroom the weapons would create, and the mushroom would do to the nation much like what they do to the dead roots of some long dead tree: decompose it. He imagined himself there, as the true ruler of Stihl, standing as tall as any mountain. He would look down at what the mushroom had done, leaving the nation as a rotting clump of wood, and then he would look at the large and brightly lit mushroom and would soon hunger to taste it. He would reach for the oversized fungus and grab a chunk of its meat to divulge in. He would taste it, and in that, he would taste the lives of every Freekish citizen who had been consumed by its tendrils. They would become one with General Nthato. And in this thought, Nthato silently gloated to himself, his belly lifting with each successive laugh of amazement at his real power.

***

I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling
Gotta make you understand…


***

Unfortunately, what he believed and what really happened were two very different things. The missiles, upon launch, arced impressively into the sky. Their billowing plumes of white vapor followed them for some time before they became a mere haze in the sky. By this time, the rockets themselves were well out of sight. The launch personnel celebrated and cheered. The technicians who launched the missiles cried in pain at the third degree burns which covered their bodies and submitted to shock. The local farmers and peasants who had witnessed this spectacle of flame and smoke firing out of the earth, had offered sacrifices to the soil: wives, horses, mules, pigs, first borns, and mother-in-laws. Others danced around large bonfires, chanting and screaming old Khemeti folk songs to ward the evil spirits away. The smarter ones, however, knew exactly what was going on, and they gathered herbs and spices which were supposedly known to help quell sneezing, and gingerly brought them to the massive pits from which the fire and smoke came. They threw them down, and they landed on the launch technicians, further antagonizing their already festering wounds.

Regardless, the missiles were supposedly on their way. Interestingly enough, they actually were, as they had happened to launch in the general direction of Automagfreek. Unfortunately, they lacked the fuel and guidance to get anywhere even remotely close. The missiles flew vertically for several kilometers then corkscrewed parallel to the ground for several more kilometers. Eventually, the rocket motors quit and the rockets glided towards earth. Their time-delay fuses, activated by the incessant poking of the launch technicians, marked their detonation time and within moments, it was reach. Each one erupted into a small, but violent firestorm that encompassed perhaps a thousand feet. A small mushroom cloud formed over the detonation site and eventually dissipated into the atmosphere. Each detonation claimed a small thatched farm hut and a handful of goats as they air bursted only a couple hundred meters over the ground.

***

We've know each other for so long
Your heart's been aching
But you're too shy to say it
Inside we both know what's been going on
We know the game and we're gonna play it…

***

Already, the messengers had arrived, touting hand written notes of farmers and peasants writing of their witnessing of the great arrival of the twin mushrooms. General Nthato stared in disbelief at the reports from the messenger, and occasionally, would answer his phone to listen to further reports of the sudden appearance of these mystical mushrooms. It never crossed his mind that these were of his own creation, instead, he subconsciously admired this Lord Dreadfire, for he shared General Nthato’s unique powers as well it seemed. Dreadfire had created his own mushrooms over Kak Khemet, but now Nthato’s admiration turned to fear. What if a towering Dreadfire appeared over greater Khemet, straddling the great country to reach for the mushroom and remove from it a chunk to feast on? Nthato cringed and looked out the window from his office, and was satisfied when he didn’t see a giant leg standing in the city square.

Nthato reached for his phone and held the receiver to the side of his head, and spoke to the operator, “Please, put me on radio.” General Nthato had a private telephone line connection to Kak Khemet’s only radio station: KOAL 900 AM. Soon, he was on the air, his voice heard in every corner of the two dozen or so homes that had the money to afford a radio. Others listened from the loudspeakers which spread his prophetic voice for all to hear. Translated from Khemeti, his words:

“My great compatriots. Today we testify one miracle, the coming of the mushrooms. I allowed so that they appear, however, its source is what troubles us. Automagfreek commission these mushrooms to appear on our farmhouses, our children, and our goats. They look at to defeat us before we let us connect in the noble war. They will not occur. In fact, I am now allowing the full conventional assault on Automagfreek. Our navy, Air Force, army, and forces of the policies will march on the land, air, and the sea to reach the coasts of Stihl. There, they will retake what is ours, and using its blood, avenge the blood that has been spilled already in our coasts. Our goats will not been forgotten, and false Mr. Dreadfire will pay one dowry immense to pay for the goats and wed its peoples ours ideals. We will prevail. Good day." His thunderous, screechy roar filled the airwaves, signaling the end of his speech.

***

Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you...

***

The People’s Republic of Kak Khemet’s National Air Force was now in the air in full force, their DP-21Es prowling the skies looking for a reason to eject. Cargo planes lumbered through clouds full of paratroopers, prepared to refuse to jump at a moment’s notice. Night would be falling, however, and with nightfall, all deployed assets of Kak Khemet’s would return to base. No soldier, no matter how fearsome, could do his duty in darkness. So, at sunset, pilots either ejected or tried to fly home, provided they did not get lost in the process. Navy personnel simply abandoned their duties and crowded below decks to enjoy each other’s company. Army soldiers left their posts and went home. If any of them could not complete their mission of escaping darkness, they often felt it necessary to commit suicide to escape the unknown of nightfall. Soon, the defense of Kak Khemet would literally shut down, as lights were left on, radars were left unattended, and tanks were left idling.

Tomorrow, hell would be raised. But only after the soldiers had recovered from their hangovers.

***

And if you ask me how I'm feeling
Don't tell me you're too blind to see...

The People’s Republic of Kak Khemet would soon enter the world stage in a dazzling display of fire, light, and incredible ineptitude.


OOC: I suspect it will soon be leaving the world stage in a similar fashion.

OOC: I suspect it will soon be leaving the world stage in a similar fashion.

OOC- Yes, yes, yes... Unfortunately, it appears that the People's Republic of Kak Khemet is too powerful of an opponent to directly engage as evidenced by the targeted's unwillingness to oppose our actions and intent towards him. We shall see if your prophecy holds true concerning this glorious nation's future.

"General, there's been an attack on the Freeks. Well... an attempted attack."

Pace looked up. "Who and where?"

"Um... it is a small nation that launched two missiles they claimed to be nuclear towards the Freeks. The missiles did not even leave their own borders before detonating. The People's Republic of Kak Khemet, is the name."

Pace searched the database and found little. "We have a carrier in the area. Tell them to speak to this leader and find out what the hell is wrong with them."

Approximately eight and a half hours after the news reached Crimmond of the 'attack', a carrier that was cruising through the general area diverted and was soon dispatching a single unarmed helicopter.

Undaunted by whatever anti-aircraft fire was probably not coming anywhere near to their aircraft, they would land and a well dressed man would step out. "I am Captain Motham, of the Crimmond Imperial Navy. I am the commanding officer of the CSS Riga. I request an audience with your ruler about these... attacks... on Gholgoth."

The Crimmond-flagged helicopter flew unmatched over Khemeti airspace. The only operating air defense radar in Kak Khemet had tagged it before the operator realized it wasn't a flock of birds, a civilian airliner, or some ghost return. He summoned his superiors who scrutinized the image on the screen for a full five to ten minutes. Minutes later, after the helicopter had already landed at Sula Air Force Station, the command officers decided that it was in their best interests that the air defense site should surrender and stave off destruction from this purported threat. A radio call was sent on all channels and the Khemeti flag was removed from the staff and replaced with a white towel.

One Khemeti People's National Air Force DP-21E had also spotted the helicopter, and, due to the PRKKNAF not having a single helicopter in its inventory, realized that it was not from Kak Khemet. He promptly issued a may-day and enemy contact radio declaration before pulling his ejection handles. The seat failed to eject, so the pilot locked his aircraft into a crude form of autopilot at the slowest possible speed using rubber bands, a belt, and a few other odds and ends, and spent the next ten minutes attempting to manually jettison the canopy, while his aircraft slowly crossed the line seperating Kak Khemet and Nobamba. Finally, he managed to pop the canopy, and with this, he unbuckled from his seat and climbed out, narrowly missing the vertical stabilizer. The airplane would continue to cross over the continent of Karain, completely unchallenged by air defense sites, fighter aircraft, etc. until it collided with another Khemeti DP-21E that had gotten lost earlier that day. The pilot managed to eject.

As the Crimm helicopter approached the air field, however, guns began opening fire. The only air defense asset the Khemeti's had in the area were various small and intermediate caliber machine guns, all of which opened fire in completely haphazard formations across the sky. None of the lines of tracers ever came within two kilometers of the helicopter, however, but the soldiers manning one 23mm quad-gun revelled in the fact that they had managed to shoot an aircraft down. It wouldn't be revealed until later, however, that the aircraft they did shoot down was really a PRKKNAF Cessna liasion aircraft flying in circles as the crew debated whether they should bail out, crash land, or attempt to defect to Nobamba.

Just as the helicopter's landing gear hit the tarmac, so did the fifty or so National Army personnel who were watching the whirly bird descend. The more courageous ones kept one eye open to watch what would emerge from the helicopter, fearing some hideous beast or demon would step from within and proceed to terrorize greater Khemet. Their assumptions were wrong: instead, a man stepped out. A Major Tunde Adeola, the senior officer in region, had been watching from behind the cover of a RKEI Wildebeest limousine (which really did resemble it's namesake). Major Adeola eyed the man, and the craft from which he appeared from, carefully. It took him a few minutes to build up the courage before he stepped from cover and advanced towards the helicopter, ducking occasionally at imaginary bursts of gunfire and the fear that he would be seen. It was, however, hard to not notice the tall Adeola ducking behind imaginary cover on the barren tarmac, and his occasionall roll across the ground and jumps over obstacles.

Eventually, he approached within fifty meters of the man and sat crouched low to the ground. He peeked over his imaginary cover just as the man spoke. Luckily, Major Adeola had some experience in the English language and thought he knew what this Captain Motham had said. He replied, "I am Major Tunde Adeola of People's Republic of Kak Khemet National Air Force. I am fear that we have no movie houses in city." He motioned to the ragged city that surrounded the air force station. He digged in his pocket, "And sorry, I have no device of measurement." He shrugged and then ducked and covered his head.

Another soldier, this time a young enlisted man who had the occupational specialty of OS-1A Surrender/Negotiator and was thus well-versed in the English language and its protocols, shouted in Khemeti at the Major, who listened intently to the short message. He nodded in understanding and then spoke again to the Captain, "Sorry, I not understand your message. You want to see leader, yes?"

The Captain watched the whole show and resisted the urge to face-palm. He'd seen Chihuahuas with more spine than these people. He simply nodded and stepped away from the aircraft, as two Marines emerged. Both were armed with sidearms only. "Yes. We wish to discuss your nation's actions. Now."

Once taken before the General, he eyed the man. "I was diverted here from more pressing matters to find out why you chose to launch an attack on Gholgoth. You failed to hit anything even close to Gholgoth and your armed forces are sniveling cowards. I don't really care why you did it right at this moment... I just want to know why I shouldn't punch you in the face for wasting my time."

Major Tunde Adeola waited as the correct translation was fed to him by the hidden Surrender/Negotiator specialist, and he nodded as the words in Khemeti flowed past him. Once the speech stopped he turned and looked at the Captain, now joined by the two Marines. He narrowed his eyes, and the wheels began to slowly turn in his brain. They were armed, yes, but very lightly. Adeola looked to the fifty-odd men all laying on the tarmac around him and slowly stood up, straightening his back and visibly gulping. He took a few steps towards the Captain and gritted his teeth as he attempted to formulate a reply.

Before he could speak again, a Wildebeest limousine surged around a hangar and sped towards the scene. Small Khemeti flag's flapped in the airflow from their vantage points on the hood of limousine. In tow were two pickups and a 5 ton truck, all of which were full of green head-geared soldiers sporting DR-83 rifles. The two pickups surged around the backside of the helicopter, their tires locking as they skidded to a halt and four or five infantry jumped from each one while a machine gunner trained his 3M1 medium machine gun towards the helicopter. The five ton truck slowed to a halt behind the limousine and soldiers began piling out, taking up positions all along the row of abandoned tender trucks, vehicles, and support gear on the tarmac. As the soldiers were taking their positions, the fifty some regular army personnel quickly rose to their knees and scurried for cover, using the distraction to improve their own chances of survival.

Major Adeola simply watched as the limousine encroached on the pair of officers before finally parking. He turned sideways to orient himself towards the car just as the rear door opened. General Nthato Motlana Mbuto Kamiri Je Nuro III, the tall and bulbous leader of Kak Khemet, emerged and looked around for a few moments to get acquainted with his surroundings. Instantly, Major Adeola straightened and snapped a parade ground-perfect salute, issuing an incomprehensible barking noise that meant "Leader" in Khemeti. General Nthato, in his unique way of movement, swaggered past the Major and returned his salute with a slow, fluid movement and a mumbling under his breath.

The General stepped within two steps of the Captain from Crimmond and let loose a jolly, thundering laugh, sending his belly shuddering and rippling with each eruption. He spoke in decent English despite the impression one got from all his radio transmission translations, although those were in Khemeti and translated by underpaid workers. Either way, his booming voice replaced the laughter, "Welcome, welcome to Kak Khemet. It is too bad you did not land at capital, you could be my personal guest in my great palace. But I guess Sula will have to do." He looked at the helicopter and the two Marine body guards before motioning his own men forward, "Sorry for lateness, my apology, when we got word we left immediately. You are lucky I was in general area or you may have to talk to-" he glanced at the Major, reading his name tag. "Major Adeola this entire time."

By this time a group of the Khemeti soldiers that had accompanied General Nthato approached the Marine bodyguards, their DR-83 assault rifles in hand. One soldier approached each Marine with an open palm and General Nthato explained, "I will talk to you in private, but I hope you understand, we must confiscate your weapons for a brief period of time."

Both Marines just glared at the guards. Their many stripes and small scars, along with the subdued insignia on their uniforms said they were both battle hardened. If they didn't want to give their weapons up...

The Captain shook his head. "No. These Marines are assigned to protect me. You're lucky they are not in full combat armor and carrying their standard rifles. Now, I will speak with you as I would any tinpot who thinks he can fuck with Gholgoth. Explain your actions. Or your nation will get more trouble than it ever dreamed of and my Empire gets a little bit more land to grow crops on. After we remove the population centers, of course. Can't have you people polluting our gene pool or causing a nuisance if your start a rebellion."

The whole statement was given as if God himself was speaking through him. "And don't get any smart ideas about holding me here. If I don't report in within three hours, this city will have to deal with the full might of a Carrier Assault Force."

General Nthato grunted at the Captain's statement. He had welcomed this visitor to his land and to be treated this way was unfathomable. Thoughts crossed his mind and he grunted again. This time, the grunts had meaning. Swiftly, the men who had approached the two marines lifted their DR-83s, which had already been off safety, and pulled the trigger. Neither men had any time to react, at least not substantially due to their proximity to the General Service Unit soldiers - many battle hardened troops had that innate, quick responsiveness, but it could never protect you from gunfire only ten feet away. Each recieved a half dozen rounds through the abdomen and lower chest, and due to the range each one penetrated, plastering into the side of the Crimm helicopter.

Nearly concurrently with the rifle fire, an unflinching General Nthato in a display of surprising swiftness, grabbed the Captain's uniform over his chest and pulled him toward him. "I am General Nthato Motlana Mbuto Kamiri Je Nuro the third, I am now your tinpot of a leader." The last few words were tainted with a heavy scent of disgust. Nthato had a fairly renowned streak of rage and a definite anger problem intermixed with his jovialness that in most societies would be considered some sort of bipolar disorder, however, in Kak Khemet it was a marking that destined you to be a leader, as Nthato was. "I fight for my people against the enemies of my people. You are an enemy of my people. The strike I ordered against you and your associates was the strike to reclaim our distant lands lost to time. They were our's, now they are your's, but they will once again be under our jurisdiction for I have spoken so." He grunted again.

This time, another handful of the General Service Unit soldiers climbed into the helicopter while the two machine gunners had their 3M1 machine guns aimed at the helicopter crew. They would parade the pilots and any other crew out if they would comply. If not, they would meet a similar fate to their Marine brethren, and this was spoken to them in broken English by a GSU soldier.

General Nthato pulled the Captain closer to his face, "I will hold you here, and if your Carrier Assault Force has any bright ideas, they can recover your body and those of your men from the rubble they created. You have no say in the affairs of the People's Republic, and if you want to fight me and my nation, then do so. I will gladly usher you into purgatory, and at the end of time, when I stand over all who have sinned and not sinned, I will see if you have repented."

By this point, the entirety of the regular National Army soldiers had successfully fleed, leaving their uniforms, assault rifles, and gear littering the streets in rays surrounding the Khemeti leader, his capture, and the helicopter. Most would hide in the city, in the streets, or defect to Nobamba, whichever was deemed the safest route. Rumors were already being spread about the magnificent General Nthato, his mythical status as a hero already inflating by exponential amounts. By the time it reached the furthest corner of Kak Khemet, General Nthato himself had stepped across the oceans and set his boot upon Gholgoth's shores, crushing their peoples, cities, and militaries into a fine dust from which Khemeti pilgrims could grow crops and raise livestock. Time would yet tell if this vision would ever become reality.

OOC- And because I have nothing better to do, the uniform of the General Services Unit: http://img339.imageshack.us/img339/2727/khemetiserviceuniformfq1.png

The two Marines fell without even getting the weapons unholstered. The Captain didn't flinch though, even as the General grabbed him. He simply went limp and fell to the concrete, a second before gunfire erupted from helicopter's interior, aimed at the heart of the group of men outside the helicopter. One never sends a commanding officer into a hostile zone without a decent sized escort.

There were three distinct weapons firing. Two were spraying the troops that had fired and one was aimed right at the general. Take out the head... and the body will wither.

The Captain would roll under the helicopter and quickly craw to the other side. He entered the side door of the cockpit and before he had the door closed, the armored aircraft was airborne, not going for altitude immediately. It was going for distance, putting space in between it and the enemy before starting a climb and a move out to sea.

Before the helicopter got halfway to the carrier, there were jets streaking past. Bombs and missiles pounded anything moving at the airfield the chopper had been at.

The Captain eyed the Marines. One had taken a bullet to the gut and was bleeding heavily. "We'll get you home, son. And make them pay for what they did today."

Both GSU soldiers whom had fired the shots crumpled to the ground, literally eviscerated as they sprawled on the tarmac. The third weapon's fire was also true and General Nthato stumbled backwards before finally succumbing and tumbling onto his back. The gunfire was still coming, but due to the lift-off of the helicopter and the movement therein, was less accurate, rebounding off the tarmac around him in erratic bursts. The other GSU soldiers were also on the receiving end, several more would succumb to the gunfire coming from the helicopter. The machine gunners opened fire on the helicopter but to little effect, likely only tarnishing its skin. The anti-aircraft guns that had filled the sky earlier were completely silent, except a lone 37mm anti-aircraft gun mounted on the back of a truck. Its crew was fairly well trained considering the rest of the military and had the proper bead and lead on their target. Unfortunately, they were firing in a perpendicular fashion to the rest of the truck and the recoil energy simply toppled it over. The 37mm rounds fired harmlessly sailed through the sky a hundred meters from the helicopter.

With the helo's rotor now just a distant thump, several GSU soldiers ran to their comrades and to General Nthato who laid prostrate on the tarmac. A Lieutenant Rabiou knelt next to his Commander-and-Chief and touched his chest. With the swiftness of a cat, Nthato's hand reached up and grabbed the Lieutenant's collar, pulling him onto his stomach and towards the blade of Nthato's knife. When the General's eyes opened, he realized it was not the officer from Crimmond, but one of his own, he released the grip and the Lieutenant fell backwards. "GET THEM!" Nthato roared before rolling to his knees and slowly climbing up. He had blood oozing slowly from a few tattered holes in his uniform. As his men stared in awe at his seemingly miraculous revival, Nthato grinned. His smile faded, however, when he recollected the Crimmond officer's words. It was time to leave, and he hurredly shouted in Khemeti to his men who promptly followed his orders and piled into their vehicles. They would travel to the General's regional bunker a few kilometers away in the low foot hills that surrounded Sula. There he would await the promised rebuttal attempt the Captain had promised. He sauntered to his limousine and climbed within.

Once in the confines of the now-moving limousine, his mind raced at what had just happened and how it could have happened. He smiled to himelf. He wasn't stupid, after-all, and pulled off his uniform to reveal a ballistic vest with several, but fairly distant, holes and tears. He pulled the velcro tabs that kept it fixed over his chest and belly and pulled it off, revealing his olive-drab undershirt with a few tears where pieces of the bullets had penetrated and cut into his chest and stomach. The wounds, however, were not life threatening and entirely superficial. He motioned to an aide who sat across from him and promptly attended his wounds. They were almost halfway to their bunker complex when the first bombs fell. Half his GSU complement would perish at the air field and so would the small myriad of PRKKNAF aircraft and equipment positioned there. The civilian populace would be rattled that the omnipotence of their leader failed to protect them from the bombs and shells that rained down on Sula, but they would see that their short-mindedness would be corrected.

Already, however, conflict was beginning in the air over Sula. One DP-21E pilot, on call from a regional air base on the opposite end of the small country of Kak Khemet, found himself in a precarious position. He was surrounded by enemy aircraft, but had no means of ejection. He had tried four times already but to no avail. It seems he would have to fight. And this he did. His DP-21E had a rudimentary radar which worked poorly, and amidst the static and noise on his radar scope caused by the thousands of spiders, leaves, squirrels, and nut caches that occupied his radome, occasional glimpses of aircraft appeared. His radar didn't matter though, this was close-range dogfighting at its best. Amidst the chaos over Sula, the pilot had managed to go unchallenged thus far, and he lined up an enemy fighter in his gunscope and pulled the trigger. The aircraft shuddered in compliance but emitted no cannon fire. A squirrel had chewed the wiring harnesses for the aircaft so some of the varying electrical components were cross wired. He was instead deploying the airbrake, which promptly snapped off since it wasn't supposed to be used at this high of a speed. He continued attempting to fire the gun until it was clear, through the absence of no tracer fire, that the gun wasn't working. He then resorted to the one short range air-to-air missile in his inventory. There were 'two' on the aircraft, but only one was real. And this was dubious because it was actually a museum piece confiscated to be used by the PRKKNAF. He fired the missile, which simply fell of the wing and soared to the ground, hitting a tin shack. Undaunted, he was now left with only a single alternative: his 250kg bomb. He pulled the stick and gained altitude on his ignorant prey and nudged the throttle further forward.

His life promptly disappeared in a fairly large ball of flame as an enemy heat-seeking missile detonated just aft of his engines and pierced all his major fuel cells. The vapor ignited and the aircraft dissolved into a shower of flaming aluminum, assorted tree nuts, and the first Khemeti pilot to ever die due to an act of an enemy aircraft.

Bump.

The Glorious Khemeti People's City of Sula, as its official name, was once a sprawling center of despair, immorality, and depression. Now, it had been reduced to a sprawling pile of rubble with occasional sheets of corrugated steel and tin protruding from piles of broken concrete and timber. The bombing had largely wiped out the city's populace and most every member of the National Armed Forces present in the city. A large chunk of the personnel could have survived had they remained on duty and reported to the several bunkers in and around the city. Unfortunately, most deserted their posts and bid adieu to the several meters of dirt and concrete which would have protected them for the 10mm protection offered by the corrugated tin roofs of their shacks. Once the bombing had dissipated, not a single creature remained to stir, except a wayward Bonobo ape who meandered through the wreckage until a Crimmond multirole aircraft returned to drop whatever precision guided ordinance it had on the sole living thing remaining.

General Nthato waited until nightfall before venturing into the city with an elite cadre of General Service Unit personnel protecting him. They had managed to dig up the cache of weapons that had been stowed in the Executive Bunker - Sula and were now impressively armed, at least in terms of the Khemeti military. Sporting various Cold War-era rocket propelled grenades, DR-83 (one even had a flashlight), grenades, and one man portable surface-to-air missile system that had been mistaken for a meat grinder and was thus, unbeknownst to the operator, stuffed with well-aged goat meat in place of its heat-seeking missile. Regardless, the group of personnel and General Nthato wondered through the maze of destruction, spotting the plurality of dead and decaying bodies. From this sight, Nthato made a solemn vow to enact retribution on the evil beings responsible for this chaos.

He returned to his bunker and initiated Warplan Tight Grab. Tight Grab, which had been chosen by picking two words out of a hat, had been on the books for several years and was originally intended to be the Khemeti intervention in Yuslevakia to gain ahold of the DP-21Es that Yuslevakia apparantly stole from Kak Khemet. With slight revisions, the same plan would now lead to Khemeti personnel running amok upon the streets of Crimmond, eventually reducing this minor opponent into rubble akin to that of what they had done to Sula.

They would need an efficient, timely, and secure way to transmit the message to the relevant commands. Unfortunately, radio was out of the question as the only radio frequency and station in use was now playing the Macarena, which by decree is General Nthato's favorite song and thus the national song, not anthem, of Kak Khemet. It could not be interrupted. One could wait until it finished, however, it was mistakenly placed on loop. Thus, the Khemetis would have to use an even more high tech option...

As day broke, two GSU soldiers climbed to the crest of the foot hill and started a fire. Using a large blanket they began to transmit the operational code for Tight Grab through smoke signals - the only available long distance, secure communication method in Kak Khemet. Forty miles away at the Strategic Communications Center, other GSU personnel scanned the horizon for incoming communications with binoculars. Suddenly, tufts of gray smoke were visible against the horizon and a soldier with the occupational specialty of OS-7D Transponder began interpreting the haphazard formations of smoke with audible clicks. A second GSU soldier then listened to the clicks and wrote down a numerical representation. This was then passed to a second soldier who converted the numerical representation into a jumbling of letters and symbols. Several more soldiers would weigh in before eventually producing a nearly intelligible message with the words: "Bunker Nthato Transmit No You're Doing it Wrong Fine You Do It Asshole Fuck You.....................Warplan Tight Pussy You Faggot Its Grab Not Pussy Fine Tight Grab." Once the message had been determined with a reasonable degree of accuracy, Station Commander Adji Kuvelu picked up his end of the Secure Transmission Line and jangled a metal spoon against the interior of the can. The taut line between the can and a sister can located below within the confines of a protected bunker would transmit the clanging noise well and alert the Station Assistant Commander that someone was on the line. Within moments, the code would be transferred to the bunker below where several homing pigeons would be prepared to send the message to the military command sites around the country and specifically, in the capital itself.

Unfortunately, it was never realized by the Khemeti communications specialists that homing pigeons actually had to be trained to fly where they were wanted, and any wild bird captured simply would not do. Thus, when the half dozen pigeons were launched, none would reach their intended targets. One pigeon flew towards the ocean, eventually reaching and landing on one of the Crimm Navy's ships. A second pigeon would make a nest out of its message. Two more pigeons would fall victim to predators. Another pigeon would find its way into the cockpit glass of a DP-21E on patrol, forcing the pilot to eject. The final pigeon would be shot by an off-duty National Army soldier who, thankfully, would discover the message and carry it by foot to his campsite. This would eventually find its way to the Khemeti capital and, after several days of delay, Warplan Tight Grab would be initiated.

AirKhemeti jetliners, or well propliners, would take off in waves towards Crimmond under the guise of routine passenger lines. However, within each plane's confines were not dozens of eager visitors or tourists, but Khemeti GSU personnel disguised as Crimmond Marines and Navy personnel. Using eye-witness accounts of the Crimmond Marines and the Navy officer present at Sula, crude uniform representations would be created to outfit the Khemetis so that they, from a distance of 500 meters, vaguely resembled a Crimm soldier. They would land at airports in Crimmond claiming they were Crimm soldiers returning from leave. They would then arrive at Crimmond military bases to receive their weapons before beginning the Khemeti invasion of Crimmond from within Crimmond itself. The plan was destined to work. And as such, already, the first AirKhemeti passenger liners were approaching Crimm airspace.

In the meantime, it was determined that the Crimm Navy needed to be distracted, so one patrol boat was outfitted with copious amounts of liquor and ordered to search for pirates. After an intense morning of boozing, and the apprehension of at least three manatees for piracy charges and the boarding of a small coral reef for failure to heed a Khemeti National Navy's ship's calls, the vessel came within sight of the Crimm Navy carrier group. Through the immense visual impairment, the several large vessels appeared merely as a small group of dhows and dhingy's apparantly trading stolen and pirated goods. Commodore Louts Botha, to attract the supposed pirates' attention, attemptd to fire a warning flare. The flare became lodged in the upper chest of the coxswain who promptly fell overboard amidst the raucous laughter of the ship's crew. Trying a second time, he managed to get the flare airborne and it ignited, surely warning the pirates of the vessel's approach. The ship's rocket supplies would be prepped for firing and the lone machine gun was already manned by an extremely inebriated, and already passed out, gunner's mate who slumped over the receiver and threw up. The Crimm Navy wouldn't know what hit it.

The departing airliners would be noted and reported by the pilots flying CAP. They were forgotten about after being tailed so they didn't get too close to the attack force... That stray pigeon was shooed back off the ship by a crewman who never noticed the note attached.

The whole battlegroup simply sat there for several hours, as if waiting for some sort of retaliation. When none came, a precision bombing campaign began. The General's palace was avoided for some reason, though. Random buildings, bridges and roads would be taken out.

Soon those airliners weren't forgotten about any longer. As they approached Crimm airspace, they were queried by patrols about who they were and what they were doing heading towards Crimmond. After being told the reasons, each passenger plane would promptly have two heat seeking missiles fired at it.

Offshore, the immense naval force arrayed against the carriers would meet an equally glorious fate, as they breached the security perimeters and had half a dozen mini-guns open up on them.

Again, the ships would remain more or less in place until about midnight local time. Then several helicopters would streak towards the capital city and land in the outskirts. Two fireteams of Imperial Commandos and two fireteams of Imperial Marines made their way into the city as the choppers retreated. The Marines were the diversion. They would engage anyone and anything that appeared and generally make a giant 'LOOK OVER HERE' sign.

Meanwhile, the Commandos were being much stealthier. They fired no shots and stayed out of sight. They were hunting, not fighting. After nearly an hour, they found themselves at one of the few remaining buildings that was intact. A few muffled coughs of gunfire should put the exterior guards down and allow them to breach the bunker. If it was locked, they'd simply blow the door off the hinges with about 50% more C-4 than was needed, then proceed to sweep and clear each room they came upon.

Within hours, it seemed, the People's Republic of Kak Khemet transformed into a marginally more beautiful place. The horrid architecture, shanty towns, and piles of rubble disappeared in blinding flashes, thunderous roars, and thousands of tons of munitions, leaving smaller piles of rubble and generally flattening any structure over eight feet tall. The half-dozen functional bridges over the only impassible river were quickly eliminated, although the hundreds of shallow river crossings weren't where oxen and water buffalo travel existed. The only transnational highway system, designated the General Nthato Inter Region Defense System, and composed of a single hundred kilometer stretch of two lane paved highway was efficiently transformed into a hundred kilometer stretch of impassable craters. One Army truck was also hit and the driver and his cargo of chickens were promptly killed in the blast. Thousands of Khemetis perished in the waves of strikes, many more were wounded, and the rest were all fleeing towards Khemeti's neighbors. The refuge crisis would surely plague Kak Khemet's neighbors in the coming days, weeks, and years, as they had to deal with the massive influx of mental instability.

The patrol boat sent to engage the Crimm Navy fared somewhat better than the dozens of eligible buildings in Khemet proper. It managed to peel off its horde of about six 122mm unguided rockets in the general direction of the Crimm fleet. The machine gunner aboard the vessel managed to sink a piece of drift wood as his drunken spasms pulled the trigger and littered the sea in a ten meter arc in front of the patrol boat to the loud cheers of the ship's crew and captain. Then the Crimm miniguns opened up and the machine gunner fell apart into his component parts and littered the forward deck. Some proud Khemeti sailor grabbed his arm and dove into the sea, hoping to swim to Nobatica and sell it in a farmer's market. He would make a few hundred meters of headway before being engulfed by a shark. The rest of the crew generally panicked and ran from one end of the boat to the other in search of some form of protection from the streams of ammunition that was now cutting their beloved vessel into strips of aluminum, wood, and polyurethane. A fight broke out over the lone life vest, in its bright orange livery, before Commodore Louts Botha interjected and snatched the vest away and donned it. It was a common misconception in Kak Khemet that a life preserver was, indeed, a life preserver and made the wearer completely impervious to small arms fire, cannon fire, anti-tank missiles, flame, varying explosives, and knives - hence its standard adoption as the chosen piece of body armor by the National Army. Commodore Botha proudly made his way towards what remained of the deck of his patrol boat and aimed his side arm at the impressively large Crimmond carrier admist the other ships. He managed to squeeze off about three shots before his life preserver failed to preserve his life and he crumpled into the sea. By this point, everyone who hadn't been disected was now trying to swim away, although a half dozen were swimming towards the Crimm ships in their drunken stupor. The remnants of the patrol boat quickly sank towards the depths below.

Already, it appeared, the Crimm military knew about one of the main weaknesses of the Khemeti military - the complete inability and unwillingness to fight in the dark. Aircraft feared to fly after dark for fear of not being able to find their way back to their home base. Soldiers refused to fight at night for fear of the dark. The helicopters streaked overhead completely unchallenged by whatever remained of the Khemeti air defense system, eventually reaching the capital city of Koro. The small group of Crimm Marines were, indeed, wreaking complete havoc on the mindset of the populace. A few daring National Army soldiers and some armed civilians attempted to pose a challenge but their nonexistant forms of cover ensured their demise. One National Army soldier, armed with an Uzi, a life vest, a maid's dress, and a duster managed to surprise the Marines, but trying to fire the Uzi gangster-style resulted in a spread pattern of about a hundred meters between each bullet. He was also felled by the accurate fire of superiorly trained soldiers. Then the Marines stumbled on a roving party of about three hundred National Army soldiers, who probably outnumbered the Marines by at least twenty to one. But that didn't matter, the Marines killed three fourths of the National Army soldiers and the other fourth committed fratricide on each other amidst the chaos or attempted to flee.

The Commandos, however, had gone completely unnoticed except by one National Army soldier who promptly hid believing he was seeing ghosts. The fact that it was dark out only furthered this theory in his mind. Nonetheless, the commandos reached their intended target of whatever bunker it was they were attempting to reach, the guards were killed, and the bunker door was completely unlocked. This was done so that if the need arose to flee, they wouldn't have to worry about unlocking the door while running. The interior was largely unguarded except two National Army soldiers sleeping on the floor amidst dozens of empty bottles of liquor and spirits. This specific bunker was in fact the regional command center for the Koro area, although it was not the national command center which was actually located on the opposite end of Koro. It seems the trick of placing dozens of supposed radio antenna had attracted the attention of the Crimmond intelligence agencies into believing this was indeed the primary control center. Unfortunately, with the bombing campaign, a majority of the officers present and personnel had successfully deserted their posts and the center was now populated by General Nthato's ninety-nine wives and a small group of attendant guards seduced by liquor. The commandos wouldn't find much intelligence here, mainly assorted magazines dated from the 1970s, some newspapers, and several Official Government Survey Office maps showing the locations and descriptions of every major bunker in Kak Khemet. Unfortunately, like all GSO maps, they were drawn by hand and only crudely represented the locations of the bunkers.

The AirKhemeti passenger liners were, for all intents and purposes, fairing pretty well. Half of the force had attempted to flee once they were noticed while the crews and "passengers" bailed out in the vain attempt to survive. The other half dozen tried to reason with their aggressors or managed to stay airborne through the relative ineffectiveness of the infrared-guided air-to-air missiles not being able to get a decent lock on the poorly powered prop-driven planes in AirKhemet's arsenal. "This is AirKhemet Flight 004, we are here for friend purpose, we are bringing back Crimmond military personnel to return to duty and invade Crimm, err, go back to duty." In the background, the copilot could be heared saying "shit" in English followed by "dumbass". The AirKhemeti crews were surprisingly well versed in English obscenities having been on the recieving end of irrate foreign travelers for their entire service with AirKhemet. Unless the aircraft were engaged with radar-guided munitions, air defense systems, guns, or birds, at least some of the planes would make it over Crimmond's landmass. This was doubtful.

The commandos would simply kill the drunken guards and leave the wives unharmed, as there was no possible threat from them. The full body armored commandos moving silently and communicating only by hand signals would likely scare them into staying put. The maps were gathered up and were compared to images taken by aircraft. It was taking a bit of effort, but they had located their own position and using that they could ascertain the enemy bunker locations. They found only three buildings on the opposite side of the city that could be their actual goal and all three were marked in the HUDs of the commandos. It was a fifteen minute hike, but oh well. They would make their way across the bombed out city, under cover of the roar of jet aircraft that occasionally sped past. No more munitions were dropped as, well... there was nothing left that was worth bombing. Their purpose was mostly to give the carrier a fix on the Commandos.

Arriving at the three buildings, they were breached and the one with the bunker was converged on. One-third the force breached while the others stayed on watch. Again, it was sweep and clear of all enemy soldiers. Civilians would probably be knocked out or ignored unless they proved a threat.

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The carrier force ignored the survivors and the poorly aimed rockets.

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Seeing the missiles were not effective, the planes did indeed witch to guns and went after each one of the planes, including the fleeing craft.