NationStates Jolt Archive

Axackal Sea
Two Days After The Decree
HMS Suffolk

She could not escape now; the Doomani slaver ship, Maria was cornered, and with the wind behind her, was heading at top speed to Paralentum, five hundred klicks north of her position. It was useless though, for on her 25,000 ton tail, the 83rd Squadron of the Royal Navy was closing at an alarming rate. The lead ship of the 83rd, a County Class Missile and Aviation Cruiser, would storm the ship via helicopter landing, with six CH-53s already readied on her decks, it would prove to be the first of many operations where the Royal Navy at least tried to emancipate captured slaves. Just over a hundred marines were busy on the decks above and below, preparing for battle. The Maria was guarded by a detachment of mercenaries, who would likely put up fierce resistance, but they would be heavily outnumbered and had very little tactical depth.

This was being reported on international news, and as the marines assembled ready to board their helicopters, their commanding officer began a speech to them, broadcasted on many international news channels.

"Men! Some of you may not live to see the morning. Very soon, you will be engaging in combat with the enemy; the enemy of not just our country, not just of Haven, but of every man in the world. Everyone assembled here today is a free man, and it is a common known truth held amongst our people that Freedom is not given. It is won, and every generation has to win it, lest it dissapear before their eyes. Some of you will be wondering why you are putting your lives on the line when you already are free men. It is because there is another truth; as equally self evident, but less well known, that there is no Liberty if every man is not Free.

"Soldiers, the land of Haven is too pure an air for a slave to breathe in. The Havenic soul yearns to be free, for now, when every slave shipped in from distant colonies learns that he had entered Havenic waters, when they discover from the overheard mutterings of their kidnappers that their nefarious trade is not safe here, there is a glimmer of hope in their tortured hearts.

"If you want to be free, there is but one way; it is to guarantee an equally full measure of liberty to all your neighbors. There is no other. By extension, you are the deliverers of freedom, the very devices by which liberty is made. So, then, go forth, and ensure that the workman does not have to blame his tools. God Save the King."

The six CH-53s departed, their troops embarked, and ready for action. The Maria was captured after hours of fierce combat, which left twenty Questarian marines dead and the same number wounded. Unluckily, the mercenaries had begun the process of destroying the evidence, gassing over three thousand slaves and commiting suicide. Just a couple hundred slaves were liberated by Questarian marines, although a large number of the crew were captured. A famous photograph taken showed slaves being freed of their shackles by the Marines under the Doomani ensign which had not yet been removed. The crew, captured and flown back to the Suffolk, as well as significant human and material evidence, were then flown back to Questers, where they attended an early morning jury trial. The evidence was overwhelming. Although one member of the twelve person jury voted not guilty, they fell short of the necessary number of just two votes, and so within twenty four hours of their capture, the judge had donned the black cap and judged that the officers were to be "hung by the neck until dead", and the enlisted crew were to be given life sentences.

In the Axackal and Strobovian Seas, just over three thousand Royal Navy ships had been deployed in the largest deployment since the Four Day War, with tens of thousands of aircraft operating from land bases and carriers. The seas around Doomingsland were literally swarming with Questarian ships, and AEW aircraft were on constant patrol on both the northern and southern approaches into Haven from Doomingsland; things were going to very bloody, very soon.

[OOC: Yes, I cleared this with Doom.]

Two Days Earlier

Following the decree by the Questarian Prime Minister that all slavery was to cease in Haven within 24 hours, Imperator Maximus III Doomanus characteristically ordered the full scale mobilization of the Imperial military in preparation for a lengthy crusade against the infidels who were so arrogant as to believe that they could dictate the policy of God's Earthly Imperium, as many Doomani Catholics referred to the Imperium Doomanum as. Maximus, in fact, had written Pope Innocent VI within a half hour of recieving the Prime Minister's demands, petitioning for a crusade the second the hair on the head of a Catholic was harmed by those foul heretics. Within an hour, Maximus had his assurances that he would have his Holy War, and with it the support of every Doomani Catholic in Haven.

First thing was first, though. War had technically not broken out, and the Questarian seemed to be late mobilizing. Perhaps they did not realize that the Doomani intended to make a region-wide war of this slavery issue, or perhaps they thought that the Doomani simply did not take them seriously. No matter the case, it was best to get a jump on that, for Maximus had a number of territories that were now open for conquest by his armies due to some rash statements by the governments of those territories, which included Arguin, Neu Prussia, and Rio Negro. Hjetland was also a possibility due to the recent cozying up of the Chevrokians with the Questarians.

No matter the case, the Auxilia Azaharum, the Azahan Auxiliaries, were fully activated and scheduled to be deployed within striking range of Rio Negro and Arguin, not a very difficult task considering the proximity of those territories to Azaha, and a large amount of amphibious craft were in the process of being positioned for an invasion. They were supported by legions of the Exercitus, the Doomani regular army, and ACID's strategic missile cohorts and bomber fleets were placed on maximum alert, ensuring that there would be at least five hundred bombers packed with cruise missiles airborne over Azaha at all times up until the deadline, by which time their number would increase even more.

The case was similar in Nuclearum, where ACID had over eight-thousand strategic bombers stationed and countless thousands more fighters. Nuclearum's sizable Imperial Guard garrison was placed on maximum alert, and armored units were positioned along the Northfordian border in the event that particular Questarian Commonwealth state got any bad ideas. Over thirty-thousand main battle tanks were stationed in Nuclearum, primarily low-cost MAD.IIAMEs of the Imperial Guard armored legions, although there were quite a few brand new MAD.VM Imperator-II Arx main battle tanks of the Exercitus. LARC (Legionary Airborne) and Marinus units were also placed on maximum alert in Nuclearum, which was in full striking distance of Neu Prussia, and Classis Strobovica was especially vigilant in defending the coast. Nuclearum itself housed some of the largest strategic missile bases in the Imperium, and these too were placed on maximum alert, their targets already inputted.

In Ferrum Lupus, a Spacian colony, over four million Doomani troops (mainly armored and mechanized) and tens of thousands of tanks and armored fighting vehicles were housed. These, already on active duty, were in turn prepared to be deployed to the border with Chevrokian Hjetland; similarly, forces in Novus Granatia (including the vaunted Kasrkin) were placed on maximum alert for a possible action against Hjetland, which had a significant Doomani Catholic minority, or possibly against Questarian Ceylon.

Finally, the Paralentum Islands, on a state of high alert since the Questarian Prime Minister had broken his alliance with the Imperium, began preparations for a full scale war on the Axackal. An extremely large bomber and strategic missile force, as well a large chunk of Classis Axacala, Paralentum posed an extreme threat to all Questarian shipping in Western Haven. Several decades before, the Questarians had tried and failed to sieze the islands, losing one of the longest and bloodiest battles of the Questo-Doomani War.

Mobilization was, for the most part, complete by the time of the Maria Incedent, as it would come to be known in history text books.

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NID Sanctus Angelus, Axackal Sea
Present Time

One hour after it had been announced that the crew of the Maria had been sentenced to death or prison, Imperator Maximus III Doomanus had decreed that anyone sailing under a Questarian flag was to be considered a pirate, and punished as such. The first incedent in which this particular decree was put to use was in the case of the Empire Princess, a Questarian merchantman captured by the destroyer Sanctus Angelus. After a brief fight in which the bridge crew fought the boarding Doomani Excubitores until they ran out of ammunition, the vessel was captured and its cargo impounded. The crew was siezed, placed on several helicopters, and flown to Paralentum where they faced immediate judgement by the Dux of Paralentum, Publius Cassius Brocchus.

Brought before him in chains, the crew was forced to kneel. After being read the offenses of the crew, Brocchus promptly announced the sentence: death. He added that such was the punishment for all convicted of piracy against the Imperium, as these unfortunate sailors had. Without delay, they were lead to the execution square of Castus Bellicus where the trial had taken place (on Paralentum Proper), where a series of twenty-foot verticle wooden poles awaited. Wire was suspended from the tops of the poles, and the hands of the crew were bound. They were hoisted upward by their hands, and a single spike was driven through their wrists above their heads, with another being driven through their ankles. They'd be left to asphyxiate, starve, or be eaten alive by the jungle life.

The method of execution prescribed by Brocchus has been by Crux Simplex, which was a form of crucifixion using only a single wooden beam as opposed to having a cross beam. The Doomani media had a field day as the first Questarian pirates met swift and brutal justice in retaliation for the execution of the officers of the Maria.

Punta Ballena,
Northen Rio Negro
One Day After The Decree

"Mi General, we should go."
"Not yet Juan, we still have to inspect the last positions."
"This is a dangerous area, the Doomani and their Azahan lapdogs will attack at any moment, and your presence here goes against the plan."
"Damn the timetable, we've been give too little time." General Pedro Sarguils inspected the sights on the discrete bunker hidden amongst the low sand hills of the beach. It was all in order, if there was one thing his men could do, it was build fortifications and maintain them properly. One needed money for that sort of thing, money that was sitting unused in Franberry, thankfully, Northfordian engineers had kept the area up to date and lent their own supplies to finish the task. They'd been moved further inland, of course, nobody wanted avoidable foreign casualties. The men that were going to die were Franberrians, and they were standing at attention in their impeccable uniforms. Pedro inspected them, not a single spot, a true Franberrian was always ready for duty, FAL by their side, and more often than not, with the bayonet fixed. The Doomanis were strong opponents and brave warriors, they might be lacking in honor, but they deserved respect and admiration. However, the Doomanis, and their Azahan auxiliaries would be met with quite a fight, and a rather, or so Pedro hoped, a cunning plan.

The beaches would be manned by second-rate divisions, and Home Guard units would fill the countryside behind them as the second-rate divisions fell back from what was surely to be an unstoppable attack. The units on the beaches and immediately behind them had been granted a comfortable SAM umbrella, courtesy of Northfordian engineering, and this would be augmented by the Aequatian fighters which were due to arrive any day. Pedro could not stop thinking about that small fact, the whole campaign would rest on the time the Aequatian fighters had in-country to be prepared. AT guns, artillery and a considerable amount of missile emplacements were waiting for the Doomanis on the beach, they would not, however, be confronted with a mobile mechanized counter-attack. Those had all been pulled towards the interior of the colony, away from the sweeping fields and towards the area were the country became a bit hilly. Once the Doomanis had been pulled in, they would hopefully be bled dry. The Franberrian was not a soldier who had any doubt about dying, for he was sure of that fate since the first day of training, and he had been indoctrinated and taught that to die for the Motherland under her banner on the battlefield was nothing more than the epitome of honor. Were Franberrians the most responsive officers? the most innovative or the quickest to act? No, far from it. But they could certainly man their trenches to the last man, and what they lacked in other areas they made up in courage and aggressiveness. Outdated concepts, some officers might claim, but Pedro thought differently. These values had always served the Franberrian soldier, and had always made him that valiant and obedient fellow that had always been distinguishable in international campaigns.

Oh, the Doomanis were surely coming, and they would come strong, hit hard, and with large numbers swelled by their Azahan puppets. One could be sure, of course, that the Franberrians were prepared, and quite willing, to give as much fight as they could. The battle, certainly, was to be quite close.

[OOC: Doom I'll make at least a basic map of Rio Negro by tomorrow morn]]

Tnemration attention had turned to the worldwide quest of the Questarian government to rid the world of slavery and piracy. It seemed a fools errand though and would likely cause more bloodshed than it wanted to stop. As the live action feed broadcast from the Questarian aviation cruiser, hundreds of thousands Tenrmation citizens watched intently. Many of them commented to themselves about the consequences of the Questarian navy's actions and it was a hot topic of debate on every news program in the Forsaken Realm. The official stance of Overlord Alduous Plumb was still obscured and ill-defined and many pundits discussed where the Tnemration government stood on the matter. Slavery and piracy were considered abhorrent by the Tnemration government but so was the tyranny of telling other nationstates how to act within their own borders. No enigma in recent history was greater than this. When the ordeal ended, it ended not with freedom but with tyranny. Questarian courts found the Doomanis guilty and summarily executed them and the precedent had been set. Questers had policed another country, forcing its own ideals of freedom upon another state, committing nothing short of an act of piracy itself.

Questers had gone too far. Would they dare to encroach upon the waters of Tnemrot, to police it as they wished? There were renegade pirates in the seas around Tnemrot and pirates who certainly kidnapped for ransom. They were a problem but they were a Tnemration problem, not a problem of any other country. This was Tnemration waters, Tnemration business, and Tnemration concerns.

Official Communique

http://www.forsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/General/seal-tnemrot.png

Priority: High
Recipient: Prime Minister Benjamin Russell
Origin: Forsaken Realm of Tnemrot - Office of the Overlord Alduous Plumb
Classification Level: Encrypted
Subject: Doomani Maria


Prime Minister, the actions of your country in this matter are of grave concern to the Tnemration people. We stand firm against slavery and against piracy. We stand firm against many egregious violations of human life throughout the world, Haven especially.

However, the actions your country has taken against the Maria represent a destabilization to our careful balance of power in Haven. The bloodshed throughout our glorious region as a result of this singular act will kill millions more than you will ever hope to free. Infringing upon the sovereignty of nationstates is a practice that is not in the name of freedom but in the name of tyranny. The actions taken against the Maria can be construed as nothing short of piracy in and of its own right, an act of sheer madness.

You should know better than any other nation in the world what consequences these actions will cause to the world. Your quest of freedom will end in horror, bloodshed, and extinction throughout the world of people not even connected to the banners of immorality.

The Tnemration government pledges no support to this unjust campaign of force and we implore you to think of the consequences of these actions. Millions need not die unnecessarily to police the policies of other countries, a precedent that, one day, may see nations invading your borders to police your own country. We cannot allow such a precedent to form, for the benefit of all sovereign nations of the world.

Sincerely,
Overlord Alduous Plumb


Classification Levels

Standard: Standard classification is the normal level of encryption. It is equivalent to the standard levels of encryption seen on most secure e-mail clients.

Confidential: Confidential classification is a higher level of encryption than "Standard" but it is not heavily encrypted. It is used mostly for flash traffic to foreign countries and requires some additional decoding time. It uses 512-bit RSA encryption methods and has several key ciphers that change unpredictably.

Secure: Secure communiques use 1024-bit RSA encryption and several key ciphers within them that change unpredictably to ensure that message traffic is not hacked or decoded. Access to said messages would require heavy cracking software and significant resources but it is not "uncrackable." It can be a viable level through 2010.

Encrypted: Encrypted classification is the second highest level of classification. It is uses 2048-bit RSA encryption and multiple key ciphers within it to ensure that cracking it would take such a significant amount of time to accomplish that, should it be done, the message's usefulness would have already expired. Though anything is crackable, because of the methods employed, this level is often considered "uncrackable" by current capabilities. To ensure revolving protecting, ciphers and encryption algorithms will change unpredictably. This level is sufficient until 2030.

Maximum: Maximum classification is the highest level of classification available. It uses 3072-bit RSA encryption and multiple key ciphers that change unpredictably. It can provide protection past 2030.

Experimental: Currently not a fully recognized level, experimental denotes a category using 15360-bit RSA encryption and multiple key ciphers that change unpredictably. It is not in full operational use as of yet.

Innovata, Ambrose Sea,

In the years since the Haven War so many years previously, the Republic had afforded itself a better strategic position to operate within the region. The forward deployed forces and territories dotted throughout the Havenic waters had been maintained on a level of high alertness since the war should the call for action come, just as it had that morning, although the circumstances were something with which no one in an Aequatian uniform could ever expect. The Questarian decree meant little to any of the Republic's citizens, slavery itself was a non-issue in Aequatio, and nations that practiced it were free to do as such so long as it did not interfere in the affairs of other states. The media at home portrayed the decree as nothing short of inflammatory rhetoric that would only cause trouble, however, despite the feelings at home, the nation's military services were placed on alert in case of eventual action taken by nations on either side of the debate.

The first movements of the Aequatian military under Haven Command would be of the Air Force as they begun preparations to transfer the Eighty Fifth Air Force from its bases around Innovata to the waiting allied installations in the Franberrian possession of Rio Negro. The call for action came when massive buildups became apparent in the Doomani puppet of Azaha, which immediately threatened the Franberrian territory just as it did for the Kampferian island of Arguin. Captain William "Apollo" Hottz led his squadron of F-194A Pandora multirole fighters as part of the dozen Tactical Fighter Wings that were part of the Innovata Garrison's 1st Air Division on their long-haul ferry to Rio Negro. The tactical aircraft taking part in the transfer would be "tanking up" for their trip, given the near nine thousand kilometre journey while the larger aircraft such as the massive B-198A Kodiak strategic bombers, such as the one commanded by Major Sarah "Monster" Gefford would make the trip without additional support from the KP-193D aircraft.

Within a day, the entirety of the Eighty Fifth Air Force's deployed aircraft would land and prepare themselves for action in cooperation with the Franberrian hosts and stand ready to contain and resist any aggressive move against the allied territory by those of Azaha or Doomingsland. The massive airbases accommodated the Aequatians well as the officers discussed operational plans with their allied counterparts while the enlisted ground support crews inventoried the arriving supplies and ordinance and inspected their aircraft in the borrowed hangers. It had been nearly a day since the Questarian decree and Aequatians were already prepared for combat action, albeit not at the scale that was to become par for the course.

As the air service transferred its combat power quickly, the Aequatian Republic Navy and its component Marine Corps units stationed at Innovata also prepared themselves. The 90,000-strong VIII Marine Expeditionary Force consisting of the 8th Marine Air Wing and the 24th and 28th Divisions along with their accompanying amphibious assault ships hurried to bring aboard the personnel, weapons, vehicles and aircraft necessary for the coming conflict. Major-General Harmon Weaver, VIII MEF's commanding officer, stood on the bridge of the Laurana-class command battleship RNS Lionspirit and Watched the port facility below as massive cranes hoisted equipment and supplies aboard one of the La Belle landing dock ships, a massive M20A4 Mackall main battle tank sat on a steel palette as it waited on the wharf alongside nearly two dozen others. Already en route to Rio Negro was the first combat elements of the Innovata Task Force consisting of carrier battlegroups built around the potent Enterprise class fleet carriers which carried the tactical elements of the Naval Aviation Forces. These would arrive within a week's time of sailing, although their reach meant they would come to action much sooner if needed, in the Rio Negro Theatre of Operations with the VIII MEF and its supply chain just a day's sailing behind.

Van der Bijl Army Base, Kent, Akimonad

The forces deployed under the Kent Agreement, the Aequatian Seventeenth Army and the Ninety Sixth Air Force, were also activated for immediate mobilization to the Chevrokian colony of Hjeltland given the build-up of the horde-like numbers of nearly four million Doomani troops deployed in Ferrum Lupus that were now poised to strike across the border. The Republic had the means and responsibility to support its ally in resisting and defeating such an attack, and as such, the over one million ground troops and a thousand aircraft located throughout Akimonad were prepared for an immediate move to Hjeltland as soldiers like First Lieutenant Ramiro Bureiro, an armoured infantry platoon commander, watched as his soldier embarked aboard a troop carrier train car while their M50 Lucas mechanized combat vehicles were loaded onto a flatbed truck and covered with a solid OG107 shade tarpaulin to protect them during the trip through the former Holy Marsh. At the same time, on the airbases throughout the country, Aequatian personnel stood ready to move their aircraft and equipment as the large C-181A and C-2225B transports waited on the tarmac as a formal request was presented to Dr. Jules Hods and his administration for permission, as the forces deployed were present in Akimonad to help defend the nation against outside aggression and required the release of duty by the Hodz administration before being able to go overseas, lest the Aequatian government dishonour the outlines of the Kent Agreement.

So for the time being, the Aequatians waited as the world slowly prepared for war.

RAS Charleston, Cravan

Within an hour's time of the Questarian decree, the first Aequatian units were already packing and aboard aircraft for their deployment, members of the 1st Battalion, 25th Special Forces Group (Airborne) had boarded waiting MC-181B Starlifter II special operations airlifters and were en route to Hjeltland in order to provide support to their Chevrokian allies. The dogleg trip along the coastlines of Ceylon and Estonsko and eventually the failed state of Muncheria brought the Aequatian aircraft and special operations soldiers safely to the Chevrokian territory, outside of the reach of aggressor states' hands as the planes landed and the special forces teams immediately prepared themselves for operations. Their missions were simple, operate in the border zone and monitor the Doomani actions. The battalion consisted of 54 Alpha Teams that would take up positions within the border zone and throughout the Northern regions of Hjeltland and along the coastline. Among the teams headed to the border was Master Sergeant Martin Pegler, the top weapons specialist for the battalion's A company, and one of the 25th SFGA's top marksmen and his partner observer Sergeant Patricia Ford. Part of A Company's "command" Bravo Team, they would be handling one of the positions closest to the border along with half of the unit's Alpha Teams.

The teams would arrive at their positions using their own heavily-armed, but lightweight, M1295 Stallion fast attack vehicles before they got to work at establishing their observation posts. Given that the teams arrived at the border zone at "magic hour" in the evening when it began to get darker, the ARSF troopers prepared themselves for their expected 10-day mission, first by hiding their M1295 vehicles within the available forested areas, covered under camouflage netting strung up on poles and foliage around them. Once the vehicles had been secured, the teams took on their "OP" fifty kilogram packs and moved slowly closer to the border zone, within eight thousand metres from Ferrum Lupus, and waited until the cover of darkness to take up their observing positions and prepared the covert holes. Years of cross training and cooperation with the Russkyan Army meant that Aequatians had now taken to working in the earth as a fish to water, the forwardmost positions, such as the one taken by Sergeants Pegler and Ford, were dug as "belly hides" as outlined by a Russkyan senior sergeant once. All of the dirt they removed digging the shell-scrape was placed inside olive drab sandbags, using their entrenching tools to cut the top layer of sod off and setting it aside as they dug away at the earth deep enough that they could lie on their sides inside. Setting down an olive drab tarp atop of boards as cover, they replaced the sod and any surrounding brush to conceal the hide. The entrance was a camouflage net curtain underneath the sod while the observation aperture, although difficult to conceal, was covered with hanging camouflage netting inside the position. The hide, like the others like it in the forwardmost positions, were sited to look as much like the surrounding environment and generally blended into whatever was nearby, such as brush or a treeline.

The covert positions complete, Master Sergeant Pegler set out his equipment for the endured stay at the border zone. He wore the standard Woodland DARPAT ( http://i191.photobucket.com/albums/z317/Aequatio/Camouflage/WD-DARPAT.png) Battle Dress Uniform with just the OD107 Shade M1988 Pattern webbing equipment, forgoing body armour for comfort’s sake as he lay prone with the new SSG-164 long-range sniper’s rifle, which was just entering low-rate production, it fired the newly-developed 10.4x78mm “Interdiction” round rated for accuracy out to nearly two kilometres and was fitted with a modified M70A2 10x Power Magnification Telescope with the combined light amplification/infrared module for night observation. Sergeant Ford, acting as observer, wore the same uniform with the added protection of the "Defender" Pattern Modular Assault Vest with ammunition pouches for her modular G18A4 Rifle fitted with an AG306 grenade launcher and the new M58 Electro-Optical Gunsight. Given the operational environment as well, all of the Aequatians were equipped with the issue Mark.IV-series protective overgarments and M108 Rebreather for protection against any chemical agents that could be thrown against them. For her duties she had the venerable 20x Power Magnification M49A2 Spotting Telescope on the M15 tripod, the same used to steady Pegler’s SSG-164. The other marksmen teams that made up the other forwardmost positions along the border were equipped accordingly, but not identically, for their objectives as they waited and watched for the Doomani to come. The rest of the Special Forces soldiers prepared more intricate positions farther back from the sniper holes in the form of enlarged fire trenches with added overhead cover and grenade sumps, the rear entrances making a ninety degree turn. As they waited, routine situation reports were sent back to the Chevrokian commanders, who would in turn be able to vector in artillery and air strikes directed by the ARSF troopers, if needed.

Base Militar Las Palmeras,
Southern Rio Negro

The small dark specks against the rising sun got closer and closer to the airfield. They were many, and they were fast, they were the F-194A Pandoras of the Aequatian Air Force, coming in from Innovata over the Ambrose Sea. The large complex of runways and hangars would soon house an entire Aequatian Tactical Fighter Wing. The base was usually not running at full capacity, yet it had been built to a grand scale just in case anything happened. It was quite comical, the Franberrian government had actually acted preemptively and in an appropriate manner, one was more likely to win the lottery than see that happen. The entire garrison of Las Palmeras was out on the tarmac, eagle mascot at the front of the formation, closely followed by the Franberrian flag, the unit standard, the base standard and the band. Behind them 200 men stood at attention, displaying their rifles, polished endlessly, bright enough to make the morning seem like noon. Behind the welcoming party for the Aequatians, trucks and other vehicles darted around the base as mechanics stood ready to help the Aequatians as soon as their craft started landing. They had to be ready as soon as possible, and the pilots had to be well rested and looked after. To this effect, the officers quarters had been given a most thorough cleaning, and dozens of well trained waiters eagerly awaited their chance to put their skills to the test, backed up by dozens of cooks, ready to give the Aequatians an opportunity to taste the world famous cooking of the Franberrian Armed Forces. Quite interesting to see where the budget goes.

Within a week, the 90,000-strong VIII Marine Expeditionary Force, consisting of the 24th and 29th Marine Divisions and supporting elements, was to arrive. This force would greatly add to the defending formations, well trained, well equipped, and surely well lead. As such, they were to be saved for a rather important role, and serve as the spearhead that would lodge itself into the Doomani lines, allowing for the endless horde of Franberrian infantry and armour to make their way into combat.

The first airplane, guided carefully by the airbase control tower, came in for a perfect landing, one could not find a better one in the training videos. And with that touchdown, the Aequatians had put the first plane in Franberry, and hopefully, the key weapon of the allied arsenal against the much-awaited Doomani invasion.

Somewhere over the Aldean Sea,
East of Rio Negro, South-East of Azaha

The Marius and the Titus were steaming towards Azaha at full speed, unfortunately, they were much too far, and they knew this well. The destroyers of Task Groups 87 and 90, of the Comando de Flota Mar, Aerea Estrategica Rio Negro were much faster than the slaver ships, and carried much more weaponry. The S-2 Super Trackers of the Franberrian Naval Aviation had detected the ships hours ago, and they continued to fly patrols over the area, keeping a tight eye on the pair of slavers. They had been joined by some Super Etendards, comfortable with the fact that the enemy was too far away to mount aerial combat patrols.

Unlike the Questarians, the Franberrians were quite careful when it came to public relations, and they would not dare televise the affair, especially not after most of the slaves had perished in the Maria incident. A nasty incident that, and one that raised problems for the naval infantry that were readying to storm the pair of Doomanian ships. The Maria protocol, as it would later come to be known, could already be estimated to happened by the eager Franberrian men. They expected that the Doomanians would fight to the death, especially after the Questarians had hanged the mercenaries protecting the Maria, perhaps, in retrospect, a poor move so early on by the naval power. The naval infantrymen had been given their order, they boarded the NHI NH90 helicopters waiting on the helipads of their destroyers and frigates. 5 helicopters, each with 20 well armed men, would storm each ship, taking precaution to minimize casualties, at the expense of slaves if it had to be done. To this effect, several Super Etendards and A-4 FRs were standing by, to at least give a little shock-and-awe actions against the Doomanians in the form of a couple of strafing runs.

The leading Super Etendard lurched in the air and then entered a steep dive towards the Titus, on the orders to buzz the craft and annoy the crew on board.

"Oh shi-"
"what?!?"
A white shape fell from the second Etendard, from which a steak of fire ignited itself. The Exocet missile accelerated rapidly towards the Titus, leaving a trail of white smoke in its wake. The Entendards broke off messily, obviously in confusion, throwing the formation into disarray. The Exocet was upon the ship immediately, hitting it with a tremendous explosion, throwing metal and men into the sea. The Titus started to heavily list to port, before obviously loosing its equilibrium and starting to sink as countless slaves poured into the cold waters through the flames of the spilling oil. It was a horrible sight, as the slaves were being fired upon by the small amount of remaining crew on the Titus and were being shot by previously hidden emplacements on the Marius as the mercenaries prepared escape boats to hopefully move to the Marius. The NH90s were quickly upon them, however, and the escape boats were torn apart by machine-gun fire as a pair of helicopters descended to rescue as many slaves as possible. 10 helicopters down approached the Marius, 5 of them having been previously intended for the Titus, heavy fire from the ship brought the second one in the formation down in a plume of heavy black smoke, making it crash against the ship, killing the pilot and co-pilot, as well as the 20 naval infantrymen on-board. The fight for the Marius took the better part of an hour, and it was a hard and bloody fight. All 20 Doomani mercenaries and 68 crew members had been killed in the engagement, and they had left 32 naval infantrymen dead and 18 wounded, to add to the casualties caused from the first helicopter. The crew and guard of the Titus had all been killed by the aerial attack, and only 87 slaves out of 963 had been saved from that ship. From the Marius, however, the result was more positive, with 451 saved out of 1014.

The affair involving the Titus had not been mentioned to the press. The reporters had been informed that two Doomanian slave ships had been engaged, and that one had been scuttled by its own crew, killing almost all on-board. The 538 slaves had been taken to Rio Negro, and given all the permits necessary to reside in Franberry.

The only thing which still had to happen, however, was the Doomanian reprisal.

RAF Roughton Down
Early next morning

RAF Roughton Down was home to the 108th Bomber Squadron of Strategic Aviation, an elite unit that had been reformed several times under different names and had served with distinction during multiple conflicts. It began life formed as a strategic bomber unit to attack Paralentum during the first war, it had bombed Allanea during the Four Day War, and had pounded Communist targets from the air in the Continentian Insurgency. Fittingly, this unit would be going into action to serve once more the purpose it had been created for, except this time it wouldn't be flying slow turboprop aircraft. No, 108th Bomber Squadron had been the third unit to receive her thirty six Blackburn Barrister B.4 aircraft, the eighty metre long, mach six monstrosity that recently dominated Questarian military media nad made an impression overseas. The first version of the Barrister was of course lacking in some areas, specifically payload. However, for the task at hand, the ten thousand kilo rotating bomb bay would work just fine. Having already loaded up with AS-108 surface to air missiles and having been debriefed, the full squadron was lining up on the tarmac of Roughton Down, one of the largest bomber bases in Questers.

Taking off two by two, they broke the sound barrier in just over a minute and in thirty minutes they had refueled over the Axackal Sea after slowing down to Mach 2, the high-speed portion of their flight practically over. Now it was time to shine - each aircraft's internal bays rolled open and showed her armaments, the four two thousand kilo, two thousand kilometre range, strategic missiles. They were subsonic, but after dropping and activating their powerplants used a tiny terrain following radar to stay, at some points, just forty feet above ground level. Their targets were programmed in via satellite and inertial guidance was all that was necessary. This form of missile was obviously not useful against moving targets - no, its intended targets where, by priority, military airfields, military supply depots, and slaving facilities, on the northernmost island of Paralentum. For this the missile was well suited, built with stealth in mind, with an extensive ECM package, including a home on jam, and a flight path that rarely brought it into a radar horizon, her warhead consisted of a high explosive package plus a small cluster-bomb dispensing package. Perhaps, later on, she would carry chemical weapons; indeed, they were ready on the tarmac at Roughton Down, but this prerogative would be left to the Doomani.

An hour later, the real strike came. Long Range Naval Aviation, Penetration Aviation and Strategic Aviation, both users of the Blackadder MRE.2, had cooperated on this operation's design and intent long before it was ever scheduled to be carried out, and it would be one of the largest bombing operations carried out by the Royal Air Force, with over two thousand bombers taking part on raids on North Paralentum throughout the day. At nine o' clock, after the Barrister attack on Paralentum, wave one began. Six hundred bombers of P.A., the low and fast flying specialists, combined with six hundred Strategic Aviation bombers had lifted off in synchronisation from their bases, loaded with AS-108s; the P.A. bombers carrying three and the Strategic Aviation bombers carrying five. Moving at different speeds and taking off at different times was of no consequence to the pilots; their plotted courses brought them into contact with their comrades, and one thousand eight hundred kilometres off Paralentum the attack began. The Strategic Aviation bombers pushed their engines to the redlines, folding back their wings, as their Penetration Aviation comrades did the same.

If the Doomani had super-long range radar, they might have detected the Strategic Aviation bombers, but at 1,800km away, there was very little they could do about it. Neither was there very much when at 1,500km, their radar counts doubled, then doubled again, and then doubled again. At that distance, 4,800 missiles were loosed from rotating bomb bays and began their flight attack path instantly, in the same vein as the the first bombing run. Turning and running for home immediately, the bombers met just ten minutes later with fighters of the Royal Navy Fleet Air Arm. The missiles targets were airfields and supply depots on the northernmost Paralentum island, but they were to be followed up by secondary attacks moments later.

There were two primary obstacles to Questarian naval power in Axackal – Doomani air power, and Doomani missile power. The Royal Navy was aware that the bulk of Doomani missile power lay dormant in vertical launch cells, identifiable by satellites on the northernmost island, the only island to yet have come under attack, with just over four thousand missiles being launched a mere hour ago. These AS-108s were loaded very differently, with a large cluster bomb warhead capable of scattering EFPs over a very large distance. If the Doomani wanted any large number of missiles, these cells would have to be either double stacked or grouped tightly together, both of which worked well for the some 220 EFP bomblets contained in each missile, which would bore down into the cells themselves and destroy the missiles, needing only one projectile to break open a silo. With over ten thousand AS-108s being launched at the VL cells that had been identified, it would not be hard for the Questarian missile attack to knock out a large percentage of the Doomani “missile fields”, and leave them hard to repair or re-use with undetonated bomblets lying around. However, this was not all.

Strategic Aviation intended fully to show that she still had a role in Questarian defence, and to this end, provided the secondary attack of the first wave, in case the AS-108s failed. Just a few minutes later, four hundred and fifty bombers of 17-28th Strategic Front, Strategic Aviation, using their modified Battleaxe MRA.2s. Each carried an EQ-2 20-ton earthquake bomb, with multiple attached rocket motors that sped it up to Mach 3.5 before slamming into the earth. Equally distributed so that every known “missile field” on North Paralentum received the missiles proportionally, the slow and lumbering Battleaxe’s reached the naval picket line, fired, and then turned to withdraw. In addition to the earlier ARM attacks on Doomani radars, the first and second wave surely gutted the Doomani ability to respond in force from North Paralentum.

More than eighty aircraft carriers of the Royal Navy stood opposing Paralentum in a rough semicircle just eight hundred kilometres out. They were in SSM range, but apart from having a large and competent escort, they would find their main protection would come from an aggressive strategy. Timed to coincide slightly before the missile attack, AEW aircraft escorted by fighters at a rate of 6-1, moved just ahead of the main task force, a dozen radar planes lighting up every radar installation on Paralentum. Outside of any meaningful SAM range but still within range of fighter combat, the intent was to get the Doomani to scramble additional fighters while the missile attack was underway - the difference was a couple of minutes, and only after they had detected the AEW craft would the Doomani also pick up the missiles heading for their airbases. Of course, this was not the only intent, because as well as the direct heavy fighter escort, more than two hundred LIF-1F Libertyfighters were loitering low and quietly above the carriers, ready to move to engage a large Doomani aerial force. It would be the combat debut for the small and underappreciated single engine light fighter.

And that was not the only reason why the radar aircraft were baiting the Doomani installations. Whether they responded in kind was not relevant, but it would certainly help. The strike package assembled to engage targets around the island consisted of 450 Hawker Cossack S.2 strike bombers, most equipped with a pair of AS-62 anti shipping missiles, although 50 were armed with long-range HARMs that would immediately be fired at any online radar station that was scanning for targets. The clump of ships would be at the naval base on this island, which was the primary target for these bombers that didn't even need to go past the AEW barrier CAP to fire their missiles. Coming up from underneath the radar horizon, the Cossack's toss-fired eight hundred AS-62s at Doomani ships moored in the North Paralentum Island.

And the Royal Navy was never an organisation that liked to be bested. In tandem with the Air Force’s attacks, they launched their own operations, having been gathering ELINT and GEOINT data on the island for the past few weeks. Airmen and crews had been briefed on their objectives before the shooting begun and now it was time to act on the Questarian promise. Just over six hundred navalised Libertyfighters and six hundred de Havilland Dauntless F3s launched from the carrier’s, taking off and flying top and low cover for their strike packages. It was dangerous, but the aircraft of the Royal Navy, protected by sophisticated electronic warfare packages and the new Guardian class UAV. The fighters would specifically close and engage with any Doomani planes flying up to meet them, supported by the extensive AEW network that was holding position just outside of SAM range.

The strike packages contained 600 Hawker Cossack aircraft, with four R-PARMED anti-runway weapons attached. The range was a mere 150km, so the all-inclusive strike package, escorted by another 300 ARM carrying Hawker Harpoons would accompany the fleet of aircraft until they hit the shores of North Paralentum, where they would come in range of Paralentum's airfields. With several thousand combat aircraft being lifted from under a hundred carriers, the majesty of the R.N's operation easily matched the long-range missile runs of the Air Force. Whether it would be equally effective, only time would tell.

The game was afoot and the war was on.

OOC: can people who responded to the call to halt slavry and piracy join in?

OOC: can people who responded to the call to halt slavry and piracy join in?
OOC:
I'm not in Haven so it would take me awhile to get anything in there. But I'm quite ready to jump in when I can. I'll make a mobilization post soon but I have to put a lot of effort into the post first.

Of course my nation ICly would be hard pressed to get public support, as any war with Doomingland are seen as nothing but false charges. Most past wars on Doomingland that TLA has been with ends with the attacker chickening out and surrendering. "Oh noez my fleet got blown up, I surrender let me give Doomingland money and run home with my tail between my legs.(IE:Jarrida (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=528378))" My nation is quite tired of that, if ICly you can prove that you are truely in this for the long haul, then TLA will fight to the end.

June 15th, 2037
Urbus Doomanus

The plebs were in a state most would consider riotous; the fact that virtually all of them were packing heat would also scare the living shit out of most people, and indeed the (non-Doomani Catholic) foreigners within the city that day were fearing for their lives. All throughout the city the chatter of automatic weapons fire could be heard as Doomani citizens took to the streets, firing their rifles into the air (albeit with blank rounds, as an ordnance passed several decades earlier banned the discharge of live ammunition in a celebratory manner as a result of several injuries from falling bullets). Chants of "QUESTARIA DELENDA EST!" and "DEUS VULT!" drowned out the honking of car horns. Questarian, Kampferian, Chevrokian, Cohenian, Franberrian, Rosdivanian, and the flags of other nations that had taken a stand against the Imperium were burned in great numbers, as were their leaders in effigy.

Thirty million people in a war-like frenzy packed into an area the size of a city was certainly an interesting sight to behold, and the media was loving it. Such was the scene in every major city across the Imperium, and even in the smallest of villages and hamlets; along the Crematorian coast, an area that had been ravaged by the Questarians in 2017, the atmosphere was even more riotous than even the capital. The occasion, of course, was the declaration of a crusade by Pope Innocent VI, Pointifex Maximus of the Doomani Catholic Church and the Mouth of God on Earth. As so-called "experts" debated on the news what the nature of the crusade was most likely to be, whether it be a crusade to raze Jesselton to the ground and put Alexander's head on a pike, or perhaps an even broader crusade to "defend Christendom" which would give Maximus the flexibility to do whatever he saw fit in the coming war. Most agreed that it would be of the later sort, as Innocent had proven to be very lenient with his crusades.

What international observers were now seeing was the exact thing they'd seen every time Doomanum had been attacked in its own territory, and the same thing they saw whenever the Doomani embarked on an 'official' holy war. In St. Michael's Square, facing the Papal Fortress and St. Michael's Cathedral were several mechanized legions clad in ceremonial parade armor, their tanks and infantry fighting vehicles painted in parade colors. Standing at the top of the enourmous set of steps leading up to the entrance of the Cathedral, towering high over his armies was Maximus, clad in his own polished black armor. At forty-seven years old, his beard and short-cut hair had a good deal of grey in it, and his aged, scarred skin began to show wrinkles.

He'd given the men a short, motivating pep talk to get them riled up for the pope, although predictably the men had stood like statues while the people, watching from beyond the formations, roared with every sentence, hanging on his every word. Standing beside Maximus were his twin sons, Titus and Sarius, now aged eighteen and having recently finished up their intense (some would call it inhumane) training at the Academia Militum that had begun when they were aged six. They would be sent to the front as junior officers, just as Maximus had done under his father. Also with him was his brother Gaius, the Senatorial Consul. His brother Marius, the Magister Militum, was notably absent, busy planning out the details of the campaign that was to come. He would be Maximus' chief advisor in the coming war.
Finally, the pope himself stepped out from the gold-inlaid iron doors of St. Michael’s Cathedral. Old and feeble at eighty-eight years old, he appeared to lean on his shepard’s cane as he took his place at the podium that Maximus had given his speech from. Every man, woman, and child’s eyes were on the pope at this very moment as he began in Latin,

”Brothers and sisters, it is with a heavy heart that I come before you today. Christendom is once more threatened by the encroaching barbarian hordes of the heretic Questarian king and his allies, all of them whores of Satan. This is the second time in my Papacy and in the reign of Caesar that the infidel-loving Questarians have declared themselves enemies of the Christian people and sought to do harm to good God-loving Christians. This affront to Christ surely cannot be allowed to stand while Christendom maintains the mightiest army on the face of the Earth. This day I hereby call upon all Christians to take up arms in the name of the Lord, to defend Christendom from those who would threaten it, to join in Holy Crusade and do all that is necessary to preserve the Christian faith from the attacks of unbelievers,”

This first statement summed up all of what was to be a long-winded speech containing a long list of transgressions of the various states that had declared themselves in opposition to Doomanum. In between each statement, the crowd roared with approval, firing rifles into the air and chanting Deus Vult. Holy War had been declared against all who would take up arms against the Imperium, and of all the Crusades that the Doomani had embarked on in recent history, this one promised to be the bloodiest by far.

OOC:Military actions coming later...

OOC:
I'm not in Haven so it would take me awhile to get anything in there. But I'm quite ready to jump in when I can. I'll make a mobilization post soon but I have to put a lot of effort into the post first.

Of course my nation ICly would be hard pressed to get public support, as any war with Doomingland are seen as nothing but false charges. Most past wars on Doomingland that TLA has been with ends with the attacker chickening out and surrendering. "Oh noez my fleet got blown up, I surrender let me give Doomingland money and run home with my tail between my legs.(IE:Jarrida (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=528378))" My nation is quite tired of that, if ICly you can prove that you are truely in this for the long haul, then TLA will fight to the end.

No you're not and no you won't. You're not entering this RP. Besides which, the time and effort it would take to write a post to convince you ICly is not worth the benefit.

OOC: So I presume that people who responded to the other post aren't allowed to become part of this RPG right?

OOC: So I presume that people who responded to the other post aren't allowed to become part of this RPG right?

[OOC: It depends; if you're not in Haven, the chances of you having a shot at the Havenic slave trade are of course, very slim. But if you were to take a shot at the international slave trade I would be more than glad to help you with supplies, money, support, etc.]

OOC: I was asking that because I responded the call to end piracy and the slave trade in a thread you made (i think). However, I'll take up your offer.

IC

The Hunter and its sister ship Reaper alongside the aerial aircraft carrier Dark Alliance were in hot pursuit of a wondering pirate warship trying to escape the region. The sky was clear as the aerial destoryers and aerial aircraft carrier were starting to go over their victim.

"Ok, have the Reaper take the portside and we'll go starboard and we'll sink the pirate vessel in the crossfire," briefed Vamp as he looked over the shoulder to the operator's maning the radar and weapons systems. The artillery cannons were pointing downwards as they came over the target warship.

Vamp looked around as the pirate vessel was now in between them and the Reaper. He waited a moment as the order was shouted across the radio operator's.

"Open fire!" ordered Vamp.

The Reaper and the Hunter opened fire as the destoryer pirate vessel started to take a beating. They contiuned on with the barrage until finally they made a direct hit at the bridge. Cheers went around the weapon systems room as another barrage was followed with devasting results.

"Confirm hit! Pirate Vessel is sinking and going down!" shouted the radar operator.

Vamp looked around as Woff came beside him and looked over his shoulder.

"Alright," shouted Vamp. "We have a report that states the pirates were going to meet up with someone or a nation to buy slaves and endose some more warships. What say we go hunt them down?"

"Hoorah!" replied the crewmen.

[OOC: I appreciate your RP, but this is strictly a Havenic theatre, so if you want to RP an international slave trade attack, it'd have to be done in another thread.]

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v42/allanea/Propaganda/father_kill-1.jpg

State of the Union Address by Alexander Kirillovich Kazansky

Friends! Allaneans! Freemen!

For years upon years, we have warned the world of the evil that the Doomani represent. For years, Allanea has been the sole bulwark of liberty, the lonely rock standing against Doomani oppression. The Doomani have rampaged through Jariddia, Kahanistan, Africa, ViZion, slaughtering millions and hundreds of millions of men, and yet the world stood silent against their crimes.

But now the world has awakened. Now the world has heard the cries of the suffering, the weeping of the children, the groan of the slaves under the whip. Even now, dozens of Questarian ships prowl the seas of Haven for Doomani vermin. Even now, the corpses of Doomani slaveowners rot on their ropes in Questers. What can we do now – other than welcome our brothers with open arms to the struggle against the Doomani slaver?

By the power vested in me by the People of the United States, and with accordance with Freedom World-Wide Act 2007, I hereby order the Cloyster Coast naval task forces, the Roanoke Island Defense Fleet, and further a force of 500 Aviso patrol corvettes and 100 submarines, to begin assisting the Questarians in patrolling the Axackal and Strobovian seas against the Doomani. From the Allanean air base in Questers, aircraft will take off to help the Questarians in their mission.

To the sailors of the Allanean Navy, I will tell this: Have no mercy. The Doomani slaverunners and slaveowners are not human beings. By the virtue of enslaving another human being, they have divested themselves of the status of a human being. They are animals. They are to be hunted as such.

Your Motherland gives you ships – chase the slaver in them. Your Motherland gives you rifles – shoot the slaver with them. Your Motherland gives you knives – stab the slaver with them and flay his corpse. Remember now, Allaneans – you are Liberators and Punishers. You must free the slave, and you must destroy the slaver, so he may never harm another again. Only those that surrender may be granted mercy.

To the sailors of the Doomani ships I say: If you believe that this is not your fault – that you are innocent of these crimes – surrender your vessels to the Allaneans. I guarantee you that you will be given a fair trial by jury, in which jury nullification is an entrenched privilege, and a unanimous vote is necessary to convict. You will be allowed a lawyer funded by the Allanean government.

But the slaver – and anyone who defends the slaver – will be afforded no mercy of mine. Resist the Allaneans or the Questarians, and you surely will be killed.

Now already, the so-called Doomani 'Pope' has declared Questers anathema. Some fine Christian, he is, declaring war to the death because he wants to enslave and torture his fellow man! Some fine Catholic, indeed! Hey, Innocent! Remember what Luther said about the Catholic Church? I bet he really meant the Doomani Catholics.

And you know what? I bet he was right, too. Because the Doomani are slave owners. When a slave owner touches the sacrament, he pollutes the Body of Christ with his hands – the same hands he held the whip in. When a slave owner enters a church, he pollutes the body of the Bride of Christ with his presence. He is like a rapist – or perhaps the client, and the Doomani Church is his cheap whore.

Yeah, I like that metaphor. The Doomani Church doesn't qualify to be Whore of Babylon. She's just a cheap two-dollar slut, selling herself out to the Empire and its slavers for small change.

And yet – as I mentioned– we in Allanea, and our friends in Questers, are peace-loving people. We are full of kindness, and we desire peace. And despite the fact Maximus and Innocent are a pair of impotent jerk-offs who endorse slavery to compensate for not being able to get it up with their ten-year-old choir boys, despite the fact most Doomani women have to resort to cucumbers and Kahanistani slaves for satisfaction, we still allow the Doomani a peaceful option.

End slavery now. Release all of your slaves. Do as we say, and we will let you live. We're nice like that.

That is all.

May God Bless Allanea.

Well I would have just settled with a no but you decided to pull an attitude. If you hate me so bad OOCly as it appears you do, then have the guts to come out and just say so.
OOC: I'll try to say this clearly, you either know you're in this, or you don't know you're in this. If you have a doubt, its because you're not. And no personal attacks, this goes as much for you as for anyone else that makes it. And if everyone could be kind enough to cut down on the OOC chatter and resolve this via PM.

"Questarian naval forces seem to have already begun attacks on Doomani territory today, only moments ago launching an all-out attack upon Paralentum, the islands famous for being basically uncapturable. The Questarians have tried it before, and many analysts think this wont be the last time they try it. Many are also saying that the so-called 'War on Slavery' is but an excuse made up to try and defeat the Doomani and stop their steady increase in power throughout southwestern Haven.

"As such, many believe that Zukariaan slavers have nothing to fear as they make their way through the Doomani Sea from Arterus. Indeed, some say that if they flag themselves off as Zukariaan the Questarian patrols will ignore the-"

Captain Ballius Liccitus turned away from the newsreport, having heard his fill of 'rubbish' for the day. He generally paid no mind to the news anyways. He had yet to have any trouble at sea. He walked from his office and onto the deck, overlooking the 'slave grounds' in the center of the ship. The area was surrounded by catwalks and was filled with makeshift homes. It was a living, working community of slaves built on their long voyage northward from Arterus. It was common for slaves to be treated well by slaver captain and allowed to gather and socialize, though they were checked daily by teams of guards who would punish them severely if suspected of 'conspiracy'.

Ballius could hear his guards talking, discussing the Questarian declarations. They were obviously worried and didn't realize, Ballius thought, that the Questarians didn't give a rat's ass about Zukariaan slaving operations. Ballius didn't care one way or the other, and even refused to link of with Cottish escorts out of defiance. He would steam straight for Zukariaa and no one would stop him, and he shared that train of thought (though a lot of them had accepted Cottish escort) and were primarily dismissing the Questarian threats. The reasons varied from Questers simply wanting to fight Doomingsland to Zukariaa and Questers being long-time allies, to the relationship between the Emperor and King Alexander. Whatever the reason, few chose to give up the trade; there was good money in this business.

OOC-Sorry that this is so short. My brain became fried after certain lulzy events that took place on IRC.

http://i191.photobucket.com/albums/z317/Aequatio/us_propaganda-20.jpg

Base Militar Las Palmeras, Rio Negro

In the days since the arrival of the first Aequatian units and the continued build-up in Rio Negro, Captain Hottz came to notice how peculiarly backwards the Franberrian military and its practices, seemingly obsessed with aesthetics, their combat power seemed very much in question to the highly-motivated and professional force that was the Republic's Air Force. The very pomp and circumstance atmosphere of the base itself almost grated on the Aequatians and were it not for the scheduled combat air patrols out over the strait separating Rio Negro and Azaha proper, they may have started having difficulties even tolerating the Franberrian practice of warfighting. The captain would meet one of his fighter wing comrades as he entered one of the briefing rooms turned into a lounge, given that the transit to the barracks cost the pilots an added half hour of time they could be sleeping, his flight helmet in one hand and a copy of the day's issue of the Deccan Tribune under his opposite arm as he drank from a cup of gourmet coffee given to him by one of the waiters, prepared with what seemed to be an excessive amount of effort, "Evening, brother, how have the hosts been treating yourself today?" He asked slumping down into one of the seats next to a slumbering pilot.

The major awake smiled, "Oh I have been well, Captain, although that goose prepared for dinner isn't sitting with me so well after that six hour patrol," He said rubbing the belly of his flight suit with his hand, "So far things have remained quiet since our arrival, but intel suggests that otherwise is coming, both ours and those of Franberry."

"Sounds like things are going to get sporting," Hottz grinned wide, "First squadron to a hundred kills buys the other one a case of wine?"

"No need, the Franberrians will shower us with wine if we so request!" The major laughed in reply as the officers shook on their wager and the captain opened his paper to read about the declaration posed by the Doomani via Maximus.

Van der Bijl Army Base, Kent, Akimonad

Cheers went up around the base just as it did at the other bases around the Empire as on the televisor screens of every Aequatian living in Akimonad watched as Army General Gene McKinney, CINCHAVENCOM, met with Dr. Jules Hodz as the latter released both the Aequatian Seventeenth Army and Thirty Fifth Air Force from their duties outlined in the Kent Agreement so they could transit the continent and deploy to Hjetland to help defend their Chevrokian allies against the Doomani threat posed in Ferrum Lupus. Lieutenant Bureiro sat with the other officers of his battalion as the train started off on its journey to arrive in five days' travel time in Hjetland, he looked across the car as one of the battalion staff officers, a brunette captain in the S-4 section, sat as she read through Adam Smith's The Wealth of Nations, something that would be unseen two years prior by Aequatians.

The one million soldiers making up the Aequatian Seventeenth Army moved to central locations and loaded aboard trains that would take them from Akimonad, through the former Holy Marsh, to Hjetland within the coming week, arriving by entire brigades via the railways. High above the transit zone was watched by fighters and airborne early warning and control aircraft for air attacks launched from Ferrum Lupus. F-124A Bullwhip and F-194A Pandora fighters, guided by the command crews aboard the EP-191B Aurora aircraft, kept their air-to-air weapons and sensors at the ready for any possible attacks launched by Doomani attack craft.

Magna Casa, Aequatius Prime, Gholgoth

Thousands of miles away from the looming conflict, in the mainland Aequatian Republic, President Alexis Castle stood before the National Senate as she prepared to speak to the nation's representatives, the Aequatian Citizenry and the entire world itself concerning the situation. She started her speech as the televisor cameras started broadcasting via satellite worldwide:

"I stand before the world today, to speak to not only to the free men and women, but also to those who seek to undermine the very liberty that is the right of every human being around the world,

The concern that the Aequatian Republic is prepared to stand against is not merely slavery of the body, as are the wishes of the Questarians and their ilk, but it is slavery of the mind, through indoctrination and coercive oppression, both Pope Innocent VI, the supposed Mouth of God on Earth, and Pointifex Maximus of the Doomani Catholic Church hold billions hostage with their message of dogmatic subservience to their God, this day marks the beginning of the end of that tyrannic stranglehold.

Doomani Catholicism is most admirably adapted to the training of slaves, to the perpetuation of a slave society; in short, to the very conditions confronting us to-day. The rulers of the Doomani have realized long ago what potent poison inheres in their religion. That is the reason they themselves foster it in their own Imperium and all of those they occupy; that is why they leave nothing undone to instill it into the blood of the people.

Everywhere and always, since its very inception, The Doomani Catholic has turned the earth into a vale of tears; always it has made of life a weak, diseased thing, always it has instilled fear in man, turning him into a dual being, whose life energies are spent in the struggle between body and soul. In decrying the body as something evil, the flesh as the tempter to everything that is sinful, man has mutilated his being in the vain attempt to keep his soul pure, while his body rotted away from the injuries and tortures inflicted upon it.

The Doomani religion and morality extols the glory of the Hereafter, and therefore remains indifferent to the horrors of the earth, which makes them a dangerous population and a grave threat to all people of the free world and it is the duty of every free man and woman to eliminate this problem so that peace and liberty may prevail.

So I say now, to those who have not already joined our noble cause, it is natural to man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren, until she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty?

Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, having eyes, see not, and having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern their temporal salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth; to know the worst and provide for it.

It is in vain, sirs and madams, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace-- but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from Southwestern Haven will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms!

Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish?

What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it!

I know not what course others may take; but as for me and my fellow citizens, give me liberty or give me death!

PER ARDUA LIBERTAS VINCIT!" Finished President Castle, her face red and eyes excited as she clutched a G121 assault rifle in her hand and held it high before the National Senate as an uproar of celebration erupted from the seats and throughout the country. Aequatians in their homes and those gathered in public places, along with soldiers, marines, airmen and sailors at their respective stations worldwide, watched the speech and chanted "PRO PATRIA SEMPER" as the nationalist fervour had finally reached its peak.

The Republic was now prepared for total war.

Cotland was a Christian country, with the dominant form of Christianity being the Lutheran-Protestant variant with some local modifications and additions that was known as the Church of Cotland, but freedom of religion was enforced with the following consequence that most of the world’s religions were represented in some way or form. That included the Doomani-Catholic Church, to which some seven percent of the population, mostly located in the north near the border with the Doomani Nuclearum, professed their faith to.

Seven percent may not seem so very much, but when one considers the fact that the Cottish population as per January 1st was approximately 5.5 billion individuals, seven percent equated to approximately 385 million individuals that were more or less devout Doomani-Catholics. Of these, some 200 million were adults, and again some 95 million were males, most of whom had conducted their mandatory 18-month National Service with the Royal Cottish Military at some point in time. Quite a few of them had listened to the speech from their spiritual leader, pope Innocent VI, calling all “all Christians to take up arms in the name of the Lord, to defend Christendom from those who would threaten it, to join in Holy Crusade and do all that is necessary to preserve the Christian faith from the attacks of unbelievers.”

Needless to say, many from Cotland would answer the call from the pope, especially after the announcement from the Cottish government that it wouldn’t interfere in any Cottish national’s desire to join the escalating fight on whichever side they preferred, as long as they didn’t claim they were fighting for Cotland since Cotland was supposedly neutral.

It wasn’t many days before tens of thousands had informed the Doomani embassy in Eeobroht that they were willing to fight for the Doomani cause, whereupon the vast majority of them were instructed to get aboard the specially chartered commercial flights to Azaha, booked and paid for by the Doomani government with CotAir, Cotland’s largest commercial carrier. Others flocked north, to Nuclearum where they explained to the Doomani border guards from the Imperial Guard that they wanted to volunteer to fight for Doomingsland just like the pope had called upon them to, after which they were allowed passage and placed on trains headed for military training centres. Most already had military training, courtesy of the Royal Cottish Military, and would need only a quick refresher course so they could refresh their skills as well as learn in Latin the various commands that they already knew in Cottish; as well as a uniform and a rifle – DR-83s were preferred due to their large bullet and the fact that it was the Cottish military’s standard issue rifle.

All in all, some two hundred thousand Cottish men between 20 and 45 would volunteer for service with the Doomani army, another one hundred forty thousand in the same age group would volunteer for the Doomani navy, and one hundred thousand for the Air Force, making the count of Cottish volunteers an even four hundred fifty thousand, of which pretty much one hundred percent of the volunteers were Doomani Catholics.

Meanwhile, in the Caktar Bay Storage Depot some two kilometers from the border with Nuclearum, technicians were in the process of refueling most of the nine hundred decommissioned Type 38C destroyers that had been mothballed there when the Cottish Navy replaced the Type 38C with the new Praetonian Type 81 Cavalier destroyer. Now, those destroyers which would otherwise be sunk as targets in a few years time would find a new, if perhaps a more risky, career with the Doomani Navy, who had transferred the money for the ships the day before.

It would take a few days for the ships to be prepared for duty, but most would be crewed mainly with the Cottish volunteers to the Doomani war effort, as well as a number of Doomani sailors which would complement the relatively small number of Cottish volunteers. In a few weeks, the Type 38Cs would be ready to join the Doomani battle fleet, but until then, they were being prepared in the safety of Caktar Bay under the protection of the Cottish neutrality. The Doomani colors had not yet been raised on the ships, and wouldn’t until they were about to leave Cottish territorial waters.

OOC: Volunteers ftw!

Tristan Peninsula

Since the Questerian ultimatum there had been a great deal of preparation for the deployment of the 16th Air Assault Brigades had arrived from the garrison towns of Ashton and Ludlow using RAF C-5 Galaxy strategic airlifters to their forward operating bases at Tristan, pre-prepared in the event that Clandonia and her allies went to war against Aequatio, now a new friend in the fight for liberty. Their equipment pre-based and ready for combat allowed rapid a rapid time table as 20,000 airborne troops arrived flooding the island as the tourists and non-essential civilians were ordered to evacuate back to the homeland. Tristan was now a haven for activity as the first wave of troops departed to Rio Negro to join Aequation forces to stop a Doomani invasion or to plan an assault of Azaha. Commanding Clandonian ground troops, General Sir Anthony Cecil Hogmanay Melchett had arrived in Tristan to fly on the E-4 Sentry AWACS aircraft along with four tactical fighters wings of RAC-202 Shrikes to provide escort and ground support. Combat Range Rovers and other light armour was quickly loaded onto the C-5's as the troop flights set off early evening towards Rio Negro.

At sea the two fleets based at Tristan were steaming at full speed to catch up with the Aequatian naval taskforce on the ward to Rio Negro. Two hundred Clandonian Royal Navy ships, sixteen fleet carriers with ample combat wings and munitions to train on the Doomani along with the firepower of the fleets gun and missile banks. With at least four days sailing the flotilla would be hard pressed to prepare the two marine brigades for combat operations.


Warminster, Clandonia

A fresh copy of the latest Confidential Foreign and Commonwealth Advice was placed on the Prime Ministers desk. The next document was a military report...

'Latest Travel Advice: All Clandonian nationals and dual passport holders advise for their own personal safety to leave Doomingsland and Zukariaa due to sanctions and likelihood of military action against these states. High priority personal and embassy to be evacuated at 2000 Warminster Time and ALL confidential papers to be destroyed, all safe deposits to be destroyed. Embassies to be closed indefinitely.

Signing off the paperwork for the operation to evacuate all Clandonians as panic set in among expatriate communities, particularly with oil companies like Royal Clandonian Oil as they were ordered to leave after threats were made against them. Thousands were bordering flights to neutral countries as the Imperial Crown Kingdom engaged its gears in the drive to war. Jumping on the last RAF C-130K flights or helicopters TRU-94 Atlas transports as the Clandonian diplomatic missions ceased operations in the two rogue states. The military document revealed the state of readiness, mobilisation papers had been delivered as the Territorial Army and Royal and Air Force Reserves were called up for duty as the full time army prepared to haul itself down to South West Haven to Praetonian South Haven and to the Crowns overseas bases at Tristan and the Virgin Islands. Aware of a Doomani presence in the country plans were made by MI5 and the Internal Security Forces to arrest all Doomani citizens and intern them or allow them passage to a neutral state to reduce the chances of undercover and sleeper insurgent cells which the Doomani were well know for with their religious extremism. The Home Fleet had been ordered to stop in at Northampton on the North-East coast for preparation and quick resupply before going on patrol in the North, the main chunk of the Imperial Expeditionary Fleet at Southampton and Poole was moving out of port at a rate of one battlefleet a day.

The PM glanced through the paperwork, reports showing the number of munitions and a memo from the RAF Vice-Air Marshall with concern for spare parts for the various Doomani made aircraft of concern, the PM ordered the newly privatised and part state owned arms factories of Royal Armoury Solutions to increase output and prioritise government orders as the Treasury dusted off the War Economy and Kings Order No.5 plans, in the pursuit of liberty there were plans to nationalise various companies and to take over several Clandonian air and cruise line carriers, he wondered if it was worth it as he glanced out the window of his office, already military traffic was snaking its way through the capital towards the dockyards of the East End. To use the capital we have accumulated over years of economic growth is a huge gamble, the electorate may never forgive this government for the damage we are about to cause...

The mobilisation was still very covert, no public announcements were made until it was known that war was unavoidable. The government did not want to create rumours until either Doomani or Questerian bombers were in the air on route to their opposites major cities.

Aboard the ZkNS Crimson Midget

The helicopter descended to the deck of the slaveship slowly, putting itself between the slave's enclosure and the crew. The door gunner swept the deck with his Gatling gun, laughing madly as two Zukariaans were literally ripped apart by the hail of rounds. "Get some! Get some!" – he shouted at them.

Several soldiers rappelled down from the helicopter, their light powered armor clanking lightly as they made contact with the ship's deck. There was the rattle of assault rifles and belt-fed machineguns as the Allaneans confronted the employees of SlaveYou, Incorporated head-on.

Fifteen minutes later, the helicopter was perched safely on the deck, and the Allaneans were tearing several openings in the slaves' enclosure. Below-deck, gunshots were still being heard as the troops of PLU "Rising Storm" swept through the rooms and corridors of the Crimson Midget.

Half an hour later, it was all over.

Sergeant Mike F. Anderson took off his helmet and spat a gob of brown tobacco spit on the face of a dead Zukariaan sailor. Ten of them – and several assorted body parts that remained after the gunner's experiment with the Gatling gun – were now laid in a line on the Midget's deck.

"Fucking slavers." – he kicked the body.

He turned to the living Zukariaans, tied to the handrails of the Crimson Midget. "You fucking retards.”

Then he Zukariaans were handcuffed and transferred into two waiting cargo helicopters, to be then taken to Allanea. The slaves would also be taken there – but aboard the very ship that once carried them into bondage. When they arrived into the United States, the ship would be sold, and the proceeds divided evenly between them.

A message would immediately be faxed to the Zukariaan embassy in Questers. It read, in part:

...informin you that the men and women listed in this message are currently under arrest in Allanea, for charges of crimes against the rights and liberty of their fellow sapients. Ten more were shot by our forces while resisting arrest. We will transfer their bodies into the possession of Zukariaan authoritied as necessary. And yet right now, we have another issue to attend to:

While the travel between Zukariaa and Allanea is currently prohibited by Allanean law, because it is your subjects that are being currently jailed and soon will be tried by a jury, we will permit a limited contingent of relatives, friends, or Zukariaan officials to come visit these men. Should anyone want to transfer money to finance their legal defense, that will also be permissible, however...

* * *

In the meanwhile, PLU “Descending Calm” had performed a less successful operation against the Doomani. They lost 45 men and a helicopter, and killed fifty Domani. Almost half the slaves were killed by the Doomani, who released sarin into their chamber during the fight. The PLU commander was berated more for the loss of the slaves than the loss of his own men.

The Allaneans, being annoyed with the lack of success in their mission, had to do something about it. And so, little bits of skin were removed from the bodies of the Doomani sailors. They were roughly fashioned together to form a disgusting scroll, and – with blood still on the unworked skin - they had a long string of insults and invective, addressed to the Doomani, their Emperor and their church, written on the scroll. And they mailed it to Emperor Maximus, of course.

Remarks at Salisbury City Hall
Salisbury, Willink
June 18th, 2008

Mayor Labunda, Ladies and Gentleman:

As I stand here today, I am astonished to the extent that national conscience has shifted given the certainly tempestuous events occurring to the southwest of our great nation. As I noted in my speech to Parliament two weeks ago, the furtherance of liberty is a manifestation that cannot be stopped, one that will never falter under any circumstance.

Today this locomotion of liberty faces its most serious threat of derailment: The tyrannical Doomani. Hiding behind the flimsy guise of religious freedom, Pope Innocent VI, and his puppet figure, Maximus have slowly loosened the cross ties from the track to freedom through their flagitious practice of slavery, undermining the most sovereign human right, that of liberty. Let me say that, regardless of the decision of the house, I intend to put for my most cogent, determined efforts to destroy the presence of Doomani slavery smearing our great region. No human, regardless of lack of merit, shall be allowed to suffer under the nefarious practice of slavery within Haven, regardless of national origin, ethnicity, or religious belief.

Several days ago the Doomani slave ship Maria was liberated by the Questarian Royal Navy, resulting in the death of over twenty of our valiant brethren, and I intend to not have their efforts be ignored by our government. One only has to look to international media to see the tyranny of the Doomani: staccatos of gunfire promulgate across Doomani cities, as fanatics burn effigies of allied leaders and the righteous flags of our friends in Questers, Kampfers, and Chevrokia in attempts to somehow further their own social failure as a nation. Doomani are by birth a violent and savage people. The disgraceful relationship between the church and state-sanctioned war in Doomingsland is both morally degenerative and religiously offensive.

Doomingsland maintains that Questers was the sole cause of this current conflict, by their assault on a Doomani vessel, but let me ask, who is it that authors this war? The Doomani, through their evil practices gives existence to conflict, for there actions are ones that cannot be continued under any circumstance. The Doomingsland government has made its position clear; it strives to arrogantly bully the weak, and hopefully, through the combined efforts of our nation and our allies, it will cave to the strong.

Bear in mind, however, that Maximus has been rather presumptuous in his actions. Now, facing inter-regional backlash he has maneuvered back to his figurehead position while Innocent VI spreads heartless propaganda to his peoples. The Doomani people cannot be argued with, given their propagandization at the hand of the church; their minds cannot be swayed through appeals to humanity. This is where the King's Commonwealth holds a key advantage over that of the IMPERIVM, that of religious freedom. Willinkian Catholics are not strangled by the grip of tyranny used by the heretic that is Innocent VI, a sardonically spoken hypocrite who uses the word of god as a pretext for murder and enslavement. As is obvious to any intelligent, open-minded Christian, the words of pope appeal to emotion and religious fanaticism, as opposed to logic and factual evidence, a feature which perpetually handicaps Doomani social advancement.

It is important to remember that it is these kinds of people that are often proponents of slavery, taking advantage of the weakness of others to further their own efforts. It is therefore, obviously, our most important mission to bring hope to these enslaved persons, a hope which is certainly not possible under Doomani tyranny.

With that said, I have authorized the Willinkian Royal Navy and its numerous assets to begin anti-piracy efforts throughout Northern Haven, in conjunction with forces from Aequatio, with the intention of seizing any ships found transporting slaves and imprisoning their crews. Let it be known that the Omz Strait will never provide safe haven for any slave trader and their wicked practices.

Ense petit placidam sub libertate quietem, "By the sword it seeks peace but only under liberty". Today this sword must be readied to defend the liberty of those who cannot defend themselves.

God Save the King

http://i218.photobucket.com/albums/cc35/xyhuang/shansekia-seal-2.png
From the Office of the Shansekian Ministry of Foreign Affairs


To the Participants of the Conflict Escalating from the Maria Incident;
From the Federation of Shansekia;
Subject to be the involvement of Shansekia;

People, governments of Haven. The sinking of the Doomani slave ship Maria by the Questerian Royal Navy has struck controversy across Haven. Several nations are either mobilizing for war or are already dealing/being dealt first strikes. The devastation that may be wrought by this war shall be severe.

Our ally and protector, Zukariaa, has already lost a slave ship, sovereign property, to the Allanean military. Meanwhile, one of our other allies, Kampfers, may soon engage the war themselves - on the anti-slavery side. Shansekia cannot choose any side without facing one of its own allies, and either way, Shansekia will be crushed and oppressed without mercy.

With these conflicting alliances, Shansekia must remain neutral. Not only that, but our nation is that dedicated to protecting its peoples foremost through neutrality - allies fall under this umbrella because they are close friends.

What, though, shall become of the Western Isles of Shansekia, which hold our power over the Haven Strait? The islands' layout and the perilously small spaces between them will prove vital in conflict, as well as the three only viable ways through/around the islands: The strait between Tnemrot and our westernmost isles, the strait cutting around Bunny Island, and the western coast of the Shansekian Peninsula.

The government has deemed it to be of utmost importance to leave this area open, especially to commerce from all nations. Therefore, it is hereby:

1) DECLARED that the Isles are a no-fire zone. No warring nations in this conflict shall fire at one another while within the Isles' waters, or our national waters.

2) DECLARED that the Isles are a free-trade zone. All trading ships shall be allowed to dock at our ports as normal.

3) DECLARED that warships will not be allowed to dock at our ports for any reason, except to refill supplies. In this case, goods must be payed for.


Signed,
President Arnold Fukuda of the Federation of Shansekia

Zergeb, Chruatia

Large Jelazuc square had not been so full of people since declaration of independence of Independent State of Chruatia. Chruatian flags could be seen everywhere, also several Dommingsland flags could be seen. Event was also actively broadcasted elsewhere, both in Chruatia and abroad. Including Chruatian community in Doomingsland which had existed for many decades, and Chruatian community in Nuclearum, which had formed recently by those who emigrated from turmoil of the collapse of Yuslevakkia. To the balcony of old Zergeb Drama Theatre arrived Ante Žanić, leader of Usthušha which ruled over Chruatia. He raised hands to silence masses and started talking:

“Fellow Chruatians. As many of you have heard, infidels of Questers and their lapdogs, have assaulted our Catholic Doomani brothers.”

Immediately his talking was interrupted by noise from angry people who shouted things like: “death to barbarians!” and “no mercy to infidels!”. Žanić waited few minutes for situation to calm a bit before continued:

“I agree with you, this is an outrage. Chruatia fully condemns unprovoced invasion against Imperivm Doomanum and its allies. Full embargo is set on all nations that participate in this attack on civilization. Due our disatvantaged position Chruatia is not in position to help our friends directly. But I call all Chruatians from all over the world, to join Doomani forces and fight against this barbarian invasion. But now I would like to allow someone else to speak with you.”

Whole crowd that had started getting heated up, became very silent then Archbishop of Chruatia, Antun Kuhurić, walked on balcony. Catholic Church in Croatia had originated from Doomani Catholicism, but due isolation, wars, and generally stormy history of Chruatians, it by now operated completely independently. Still Chruatians considered Doomanis to be their Catholic brothers. Archbishop Kuhurić started speaking:

“Brothers and sisters, you heard the sad news that the Glorious Imperivm Doomanvm has been attacked. This an assault on everything that a good catholic considers important, this is a barbarian assault on Pax Doomanum. Servus Servorum Dei, Pope Innocent VI, has declared Holy Crusade against unbelievers. I call all true Catholics all over the world to follow the Pope’s call. Devil’s servants must not be allowed to prevail.
But fear not my children, the Imperivm Doomanvm has stood strong through all challenges that Lucifer has thrown on it through the history. I remember grand war against Gholgoth and its cursed allies, when Questarians and their lackeys who were supposed to be allies of Doomanies, quickly surrendered. But glorious empire not only overcame Freekish invasion, but also christened lands of Nuclearum, formerly known as corrupt and dirty Kahanistan, currently home of large amount of our Chruatian brothers.
With guidance from the Christ nothing is impossible to those whose faith is strong. Barbarian invasion must be pushed back with faith and blood of true catholics. Vade retro satana!”

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

Chruatians in Doomani mainland had been joining Doomani armed forces already in thousands, some had also fought in previous wars of empire. In Nuclearum, where younger but also larger community was, tens thousands, many with military experience from Yuslevakkian conflicts, joined Doomani cause. But Churatians abroad also arrived in small numbers to many other Doomani and its allies territories, for example about hundred arrived somehow to the Spacium Concordia mainland and tried to volunteer there.

Because of its geographic location the Chruatia itselfly was isolated from Doomani forces, and due lack of navy and blockade danger, sending volunteers openly was not possible. Still thousands of Chruatians, including numerous officers of the Chruatian Amy and members of the Usthušha, travelled as private individuals, using various different routes, to Doomani allied territories, mainly Azaha and Ferrum Lupus. Many travelled in hurry, as current attacks on slave ships could turn into full blockade of Doomani territories, then the war escalates. Although in such case, alternative routes, like through Cotland to Nuclearum could be used. The Catholic Church and Usthušha helped to organize and fund movement of men by those “ratlines” as many started calling them.

Direct military contribution of Chruatians would probably not have much impact considering scales of forces involved. But Doomanies definitely could use them successfully in propaganda, to show catholics from all over the world joining for their cause.

[OOC: for those who dont know, Chruatia is former Yuslevak republic, oocly ran by Olmedreca]

The Imperatorix sat gazing at the television as live feed from throughout the world's media agencies announced the same thing over and over again. It was as if that was the only thing that was happening of any importance. Some helpless victims being crushed by a natural disaster might as well be thrown to death as any media coverage they would have gotten was now being absorbed by the damn fool named King Alexander of Questers.

Sukhee turned away from the television and faced her Consuasor Externi Seculi (Minister of Foreign Affairs) Marcellus Volusenus who was still watching intently the broadcast as if he could somehow pick up something new from a reel he had watched probably around a hundred times by now.

"This is an outrage Consuasor. That damn fool Alexander is such a hypocrit as are all those Questarian ass lickers called the Kingston Pact."

Volusenus turned his attention to the Imperatorix and responded in a more calm manner, "I did warn that this would happen. The Kingston Pact claimed to be an alliance of collective minds, but its just another tool used by Questers. And Questers... well Questers is a nation ruled by a bunch of barbarians who don't know what liberty is. They themselves only discovered it a few years back. And now they claim to be spreading it?"

"That king of theirs is a threat to humanity along with the government. Their foreign policy consists of going with the fad of the year and then all of a sudden change course when they get bored. Just look at when Haven was threatened with invasion by Gholgoth. The Questarians along with all those other KGP bastards were open arm endorsing Imperium Doomingsland and Zukariaa. They had no problems working with them and now they all act like they are beacons of hope and liberty. Its so sad to see so many nations with such incompetent rulers who probably give blowjobs to the King in the backroom."

Volusenus snickered out loud. He himself knew from first hand experience with all these nation's leaders that most of them were flip-floppers who didn't really deserve to rule a nation. They were just following Questers to increase their power. To them, if they were on the side that won a big war, they would greatly benefit and increase their own power. The only nation that was above this was perhaps the Kingdom of Praetonia, but they were a close ally of Questers so they might as well be counted with their lot as well.

"So, Madame, what do you wish to do? We have already guarenteed Imperium Doomingsland that we would protect them in the case of any foreign aggression."

"Yes, I know. I have no plans to go back on that. Them and Zukariaa are close allies and they should be treated with more respect. Indeed, I do not condone slavery but it is not an issue to go to war over. And besides, when was the last time war solved anything? What Questers needs is a good educational system or they would have been able to see. But like always, they live in the moment and do not take everything in perspective. What a bunch of fools."

"Very well, should I schedule a press conference."

"Yes." With that, Volusenus bowed and exitted the room to deliver the message to the rest of the world. This war if it lasted would be the greatest thing Haven had ever seen. It was a gamble indeed, Questers was establishing a mightly alliance to destroy Doomingsland and Zukariaa. But at the same time, Doomingsland had the best trained army in the world while Spacium Concordia had the best air force in Haven. Together, the nations would be unstoppable.

HMS Bedford
Strobovian Strait
1300 Hours

"Sir, we've got a contact. Freighter, bearing 056, twenty miles out. She's heading away from us, about ten knots." Down in the fire control room, Lieutenant Micheal Wallace tracked the new contact for several minutes, noting few changes other than an apparent increase in speed. After a few more minutes, Lt. Wallace reported his findings to his station supervisor, Lieutenant Commander David Mitchell.

"Sir, freighter bearing 056, speed approximately fifteen knots and increasing, twenty miles out and increasing. I don't know what she is but if I had to guess, she's got something to hide."

"That may be lieutenant, but this freighter isn't in our zone of exclusion and anyhow we don't even know if it's Doomani. Running from the Royal Navy isn't a crime Lieutenant."

"Sir, hear me out. I've been tracking this one for awhile and she just started running when we got within twenty miles, or within visual range of the freighter. Is is not plausible that when they saw us, they decided to bug out because they had something we would take if we caught them. Something like slaves, for example."

"Very well Wallace, you're probably wrong but I'll let the bridge know and see what they make of it."

Moments later, the commanding officer, Commander Robert Douglas, had been informed of the fire control room's findings. "Martinez, radio that vessel, see if it responds. If she doesn't respond, we send the helicopter out to investigate. It's likely she's just a freighter who saw us and got spooked, but you can never be too sure."

With that, the radio officer, Ensign Luther Martinez, began signaling. "Unidentified freighter, this is His Majesty's cruiser Bedford. Please state your registry, crew and shipping manifest over."

There was no answer. After two further calls, it was agreed to ready the boarding party to investigate.

A few minutes later, the helicopter was loaded down with marines from Bedford, and the rest of the onboard marine division was standing by to launch from RHIBs if need be. In addition, marines from Bedford's sister ship Hartford were on standby. All told, the Prestonians had 100 marines at the ready should things get ugly. In five minutes the CH-53 with it's compliment of 37 Marines would deposit them on deck to investigate. If things got ugly, the rest of the marine compliment would be sent in to pacify the crew. Though it was possible that the vessel in question was innocent, the Royal Navy took no chances, especially in time of war.

Congressional Record
Testimony By
The Rt. Hon Wolfgang Hayek
Federal Chancellor

Before the
Royal Senate Foreign Policy Committee

[The Rt. Hon. The Chancellor]

Once again Haven is under threat of widespread war. Once again nations have taken sides in a struggle characterized as freedom against servitude, liberty against tyranny, civilization against barbarism. Once again the Questarian Empire has taken it upon itself to lead the charge. It is a well known saying that history tends to repeat itself, but rarely is it seemingly so consistent. Indeed some have said that this proves the hegemonic intentions of the Questarians or that there is no reasonable expectation of true Havenic peace.

However, if we believe the Questarian government's stated intentions then this time is different. They are attempting to take a stand against chattel slavery. That, friends and fellow citizens, is a laudable goal. Indeed it is one that this government has always supported and pursued. Through diplomatic and economic pressure nations can be persuaded to change their ways and embrace fundamental human rights. The costs associated with international war, even when its goal is liberation from slavery, are prohibitively high. The United Realms cannot condone or conduct a war that would bring so much suffering to innocents on all sides of the conflict.

The anti-slavery ultimatum that the Questarians have issued and several nations, many of whom are among the United Realms' closest friends, have begun to support has the stated aim of ending the so-called Havenic slave trade. The honest fact of the situation is that aside from the Doomani and Zukariaans, no true Haven nation tolerates, let alone protects, chattel slavery. The actions taken by the Questarians and their allies can only really be seen as thinly veiled attempts to directly take on the Doomani. Our friends in those nations all know that that country would not cave to any level of pressure or reason short of being completely defeated.

Out of that oblique effort to confront the most controversial nation in Haven, an even more dangerous situation has arisen. The Doomani response to Questarian pressure and new found efforts to end their slave trade has been to call a holy war. In the name of their twisted religion which defames and demeans all Christendom they seek nothing but death and destruction. It is a form of extremism that is deeply frightening. Doomani religio-fascism is an existential threat to civilization itself. There is nothing more inappropriate and irresponsible than to use faith and belief as a rallying cry for war or to defend the enslavement of human beings.

I call upon the Doomani regime to cease its inflammatory calls for an international religious crusade. Until there are clear and demonstrable indicators that the Doomani are no longer advocating religious war, and will cease the transport of slaves on trans-Havenic waters the current situation will only escalate. After consulting with the Senior Cabinet and Her Majesty, I have ordered the Royal Navy to extend their patrols in the Strobovia and Hallad Straits. The Department of Justice and Domestic Security will be increasing its Domestic Defense Alert Level for the duration of this situation. The United Realms does not want to become involved in armed conflict, but when confronted with the specter of misguided religio-fascist extremism one must be prepared for all eventualities.

As this nation has done in the past, we will extend offers of humanitarian aid to all those caught in the midst of any armed conflict. I call upon the Doomani and Questarian-aligned sides to respect the status of the United Realms. In the coming days delegations will be sent to our friends, allies, and any other nation willing to receive them so that we may maintain open lines of dialog. It is not yet too late, but with each passing hour and day the chances of peaceful settlement grow dimmer.

The response came from a radio tower near Prokaryot. It was well known that foreign military craft of any sort were denied the right to travel within 200km of Aiur. The city was the political, cultural, and spiritual centre of Zukariaa. It housed tens of millions of people. Being allied with Zukariaa made no difference unless it was a time of war. The rule applied even for Cohenians. The Zukariaan in the radio responded,"You are denied access to airspace near Aiur. We're dispatching several fighters to escort you around the mountains."

The Cohenians responded,"We need to make an emergency landing in Rosbaningrad."

"No foreign military aircraft are allowed within 200km of Aiur at any time. I repeat we have dispatched several fighters to escort you around the mountains."

"They're not buying it. Initiate Plan B," the Cohenian ordered all pilots in the group.

It was then that the greatest betrayal in Zukariaan history took place. 2800 missiles were fired in quick succession from the Cohenian planes at Aiur, who revealed their hidden Havenfighters. RADAR installments from Prokaryot to Aiur began lighting up, interceptor missiles were fired at a 7-to-1 ratio to take down the Cohenian missile salvo. Even with the onslaught of interceptor missiles, which were aided by their position at the peaks around the valley, 330 missiles made their way through and to the city. There they ravaged a hospital, several schools, made massive craters in roads, knocked down a bridge, blasted holes through many an office building and collapsing several, destroyed train tracks (subsequently sending a train full of hundreds to its doom, rolling down a massive hill and into a residential area). Several hit the Senate building, killing dozens of bickering senators. The Sukarus Magnus suffered damage to the massive golden statue of Zuka, King of the Gods. A slaver building was struck, killing hundreds of slaves and dozens of slavers. Power was knocked out of the northern sector of the city and several fuel depots, which supplied gasoline to gas stations in every corner of the traffic-jammed city of Aiur, were blown out of commission. Lastly, several craters were made throughout Aiur International Airport, closing down several lanes and a single missile struck the Imperial Palace, killing a room full of servants.

Now the Cohenians began to turn and get away at top speed. The fighters that had been sent to escort the Cohenians were in fact unmanned aircraft (as those were cheaper a lot of the time anyways) but now it became clear that the Cohenians were here to attack Aiur, and they were put to a different use. As Havenfighters began dispatching around Prokaryot and further south at Taradoxica where they would move to cut off the fleeing attackers, the unmanned craft flew directly at the group as it fled. The control on the ground was hoping to provoke a response. At the same time SAM sites began to fire at the B-22s, again hoping to provoke a response from the Havenfighters. Should they respond in order to protect the B-22s from almost certainly being hit, they would briefly make an appearance on the incoming Zukariaan Havenfighter's RADARs and it was then that they would fire, mostly blindly, in the general direction where the blip had originated. Then they would come in fast and strafe them.

Soon enough word reached throughout the country, and news stations had a field day. Violence, mainly over the destruction of the Sukarus Magnus altar, was reported against ethnic-Cohenians though one news station reported that large numbers of people gathered and mourned 'the death of the state of Cohenia', meaning they mourned losing the friend they had known and loved and thought would be there with them at all times i love you jared and support them. Military installations, particularly ones along the border with Rosbaningrad (which was watched heavily and garrisoned nearby anyways because of the massive anti-Zukariaan sentiment throughout the Rosbani peninsula and frequent rioting), began to move into action.

Emperor Conrad was jolted awake, sleeping in his room in his palace, when the missile struck it and only 20 minutes after he had gathered dozens of news stations and gave a speech condemning Cohenia's actions and officially declaring war, though only on Cohenia. But he also condemned openly the actions of the KGP and warned against further military actions by KGP signatories.

RNS Liberty City
International Waters

The Wolfenhaller government was against slavery but decided to maintain a neutral course currently. The RNS Liberty City and the rest of her battle group were on routine patrol, they were given the task of watching all sea traffic in the area. The government wanted the location of all Doomani and her allies merchant traffic, The group watched a Doomani merchant ship sail by. It's name and direction was logged. They were told that the government was preparing for military action but until then, the Federal Armed Forces were at a state of peace.

Wolfsburg
Liberty City, Wolfenhalle

President Kaiser and the military staff were holding a meeting regarding the matter.
"As you all know, Wolfenhalle isn't a member of Kingston Pact or RGP." Kaiser laid out
"We are part of the anti-slavery group to fight against the evil, immoral act, but we have yet to begin any operations. Mondoth has aligned with the Doomani group only to get back at the Cohenians. Gentlemen, now we are to make a decision that will impact the Wolfenhaller people."

The group decided to conduct operation in support of the anti-slavery forces. The first act was the monitoring of all Doomani Catholics in Wolfenhalle.

Liberty City, Wolfenhalle
The Federal Security Bureau or the FSB was the internal security and intelligence organization of the Wolfenhaller government. They were tasked with keeping watch the Doomani Catholic and hostile, anti-slavery groups. The war was bound to create some disturbances in Wolfenhalle but the FSB was to prevent them. One team was watching the leader of the Wolfenhaller Doomani Catholics, they occupied a building across from the leader's office.
"Anything, on the taps yet." one agent said to another.
"Not a peep yet, So we have green light special"
"Yep, the entire thing."

"Green light special" was a reference meaning that they had the full authority to do thing to gather intel on the groups.

"Wait, he talking"

A agent turns on the recorder

"Paul, this is Rob. Listen, I got us a ticket to Doomsland to fight in the crusade."
"Rob, what if the government finds."
"Then we are in serious trouble."

Serious trouble was referring to the National Defense Act of 1918, making it illegal for any Wolfenhaller citizen to fight for a state that is at war with or hostile to Wolfenhalle. Doomsland, one of these nations.

"Call the Federals, tell them Paul is running"

Paul left the office and headed to the dock to meet with the rest of the men, and get arrested for treason. The FSB agents break into the office and collect information on the group and find any illegal activites. Now, Wolfenhalle was in it, and ready to defend the rights of all men.

RNS Arthur E. Duntov (CCGN-2)
On the High Seas

The warning shots were not successful. The slaver ship was still traveling at essentially the same speed and on the same course it had been when RNS Arthur E. Duntov's battlegroup was informed of their position by an airborne EC-167 early in the morning. This did not come as any surprise to Admiral Oldendorf, given what the Questarians had done to the Doomani crews they had captured. With no incentive towards giving up, the Granatia and her crew of 80, plus 30 mercenaries, had tried to make a run for the country of her namesake. Unfortunately, she was too far out to make it before being overrun by the battlegroup, but regardless, she persisted in her escape attempt.

Catching the Granatia was the easy part. The hard part was taking her. Abeam of Oldendorf’s flagship, the helicopter landing ship Mosjøen Islands, was launching six of her MH-53s with their complement of Marines to assault the slave ship. Reports from the Franberrians had it that the slaver ships were armed pretty well, and their mercs knew how to fight properly. As such, the Marines had first sent in four AH-74 Hussar attack helicopters to clear the deck of the ship before the transports could come in to land their complement.

As the attack helos approached on their first pass, they curiously found the Granatia’s deck to be empty. The lead helo was about to radio the assault team to move in when they spotted a merc on the deck with a shoulder-launched SAM ready. As the four Hussars quickly scattered, the merc fired on the second helo of the group, not immediately downing it, but causing it to start belching black smoke from its engines, with it weaving all over the sky and losing altitude as it vainly tried to make it back to the Mosjøen Islands. At the same time, several more mercenaries appeared on deck, bringing into operation a pop-up 4.5-inch deck gun. The lead AH-74 swung around and opened up with the 35mm autocannon slung under the nose, its rounds programmed to airburst over the intended target. This action silenced the gun, her training and elevation gear wrecked, and her crew of three dead.

Three more mercenaries appeared on deck, manning 15.7mm heavy machine guns, which began firing upon the attack helicopters. Though many of the bullets hit their targets, most of the AH-74’s fuselage was armored, and capable of withstanding the impacts. Still, they were a threat, and further bursts of 35mm cannon fire by the three surviving Hussars eventually cleared out the machine gun crews. After several further passes with apparently no activity, they cleared the assault helicopters to approach, while they began to orbit around the target ship.

The first MH-53 hovered down over the stern of the Granatia, dropping off her 30 Marines aft of the wrecked 4.5-inch gun position. A second MH-53 moved towards the bow, but unfortunately, a second pop-up gun position appeared, and before they could be warned and attempt to maneuver the big helicopter out of the way, the gun fired at nearly point blank range. The result was catastrophic, with the MH-53 splitting in half in a violent explosion and quickly plummeting into the sea, killing all aboard. As the Marines which had already landed on the stern witnessed this horrifying event, they came under fire from a half-dozen mercs which had come out of the ship. With little on the deck to hide behind, the fire from two light machine guns cut down six of the landed Marines almost instantly. At the same time, one of the orbiting AH-74s moved in to give cover, taking out the bow 4.5-inch gun position, but being unable to support the Marines on the stern due to their proximity to the mercenaries, and thus, great risk of friendly fire.

Meanwhile back on the Arthur E. Duntov, Admiral Oldendorf was cringing at each bad report that came in. Already one AH-74 down, both crew members survived but out of the fight. One MH-53 down, all crew killed. Landed Marines coming under fire from mercenaries, just how many were there? Was it worth taking the ship at all? Another report came in, that the empty first MH-53 had gunned down the mercenaries on the deck from above by minigun, but just as one of them returned fire with a shoulder-launched SAM, damaging the big helo sufficient to cause it to crash, the crew frantically working to escape the stricken MH-53 before it sank into the abyss.

With a short lull in the fighting, a third MH-53 approached and landed her complement of Marines on the bow, without incident. Twenty minutes into the fight, after a quick patrol of the deck to ensure no more threats outside remained, they began to enter the inner workings of the slave ship. With the number of enemy inside still unknown to the Marines, they would have to fight their way deck by deck, hallway by hallway, room by room, even making sure to check closets to see if anybody was trying to hide. However a good number of rooms and closets were booby-trapped, leading to more casualties for the Marines as they progressed. Gunfire was seemingly coming from everywhere, and heading everywhere, the sharp cracks of rifles and the vicious, sawing bursts of light machine guns echoing inside the steel structure of the slaver, added to by the occasional thud of a grenade detonating.

After it seemed the Marines had cleared most of the ship, they began to notice the decks were at a rather odd, slightly off-level angle. After a few brief moments of confusion, it dawned on them that the remaining crew was attempting to scuttle the ship, with her cargo of slaves as well as the Marines, still inside. The Marines frantically worked to clear the remainder of the ship before she sank. By the time the ship was deemed secure, she had taken a noticeable list to starboard, down by the bow. Now the Marines worked frantically to halt the flow of water into the ship, closing off water-tight doors to compartments they knew couldn’t be saved. By this point, roughly half of the compartments determined to have been carrying slaves were filled with water, drowning their occupants. In ones which hadn’t been yet flooded, a fair number of the slaves had been gunned down by the crew, attempting to deny the Marines live hostages to free.

Finally the flooding had been stopped, at least for the near future. A few of the ship’s crew survived the assault, and were quickly taken on to the ship’s stern, where they were loaded onto an awaiting MH-53 in shackles, a bitter irony for them. Further MH-53s arrived, from the Mosjøen Islands and from other ships of the battlegroup, to transport the freed slaves away from the stricken ship. All told, the Marines managed to save 413 of the ship’s load of 1011 slaves and captured 15 of her crew, at a cost of 50 Marines killed and another 30 wounded, two MH-53s and one AH-74 downed, in addition to all 30 mercenaries killed and 65 of the crew. After the prisoners, freed slaves, and Marines had been safely transported off of the Granatia, she was sunk by gunfire from one of the escorting destroyers of the battlegroup

------------------------------
 
Office of General Aasmund Odegard, Chevrokian Army
Hjeltland Military District Joint Services Command
Tórshavn, Hjeltland

“So what are we up against here, General Odegard?”

“From the looks of it, same forces that have been arrayed in East Haven for a good time. Across the border in Ferrum Lupus are four million Dommanis. Around one million of them are Legionaries, these are the ones who know their shit. The rest, Imperial Guardsmen, not quite as well trained or equipped, and more likely to commit atrocities upon enemy troops and civilians. We expect them to try mass armor attacks like the Doomani typically do. Token forces possible from Space Union, they don’t have much of an army themselves.

“Facing them, we’ve got around two million active duty Army forces, arranged in eight Fronts in Hjeltland, with 128 divisions fully manned. If it’s necessary we can start bringing up reserves, we could potentially increase that number by a factor of three or more. We’ve got the Aequatian 17th Army moving out of Akimonad and through the former Holy Marsh, about one million strong to bolster the Hjeltland front. We’ve already got the Aequatian 25th Special Forces Group (Airborne) deployed along the border with Ferrum Lupus. From what we hear, they’re some of the best around, cross-trained with the Russkyans. This makes sense as well; we’ve not been able to find them ourselves.”

“Well we’ve certainly got a problem with air power,” said General Yuri Meritskov, representing the Republic Air Force. “Space Union may not have much of army, but their air strength deployed in Ferrum Lupus is about three times that of ours. The air contributions from Aequatio and Kampfers are useful, but don’t do much to offset this imbalance in sheer numbers. However, Ferrum Lupus is isolated from their allies, and any lines of resupply to the colony are likely to be very long and vulnerable. Basically, any losses they sustain cannot be easily replaced, if at all.

“Once the Doomani hear about our attack on the slave ship, they and the Space Union forces in Ferrum Lupus are going to try and hit us with everything they’ve got. In fact, I suspect they already know about the incident, and are readying their attack. I suggest we do not allow them the luxury of their own first strike, but rather, I suggest we strike first.”

“Tell me General Meritskov, how exactly do you intend to accomplish this?”

“Oh it’s not really a big deal, General Odegard. Our plans are all outlined in here.” Meritskov handed Odegard a manila envelope labeled ‘Operation Hammer.’ Odegard paged through the contents quickly, then turned back to his counterpart.

“Tell me something, Meritskov. You’ve had this planned for some time already, haven’t you?”

“Not entirely, General. Certain aspects of the plan were worked up in the past few weeks, some more specific items were worked up in the past few days.”

“And let me guess, this plan has already gone by SecDef and been approved, yes?”

“You can see his signature on the papers there,” Meritskov said, with a slight smirk.

“You know General Meritskov, though you may be at the same ranks as I am, it would be nice if you would have informed of these plans earlier. And yes, I know I’ve only been here for three days. Even then would have been an excellent time.”

Meritskov smirked again, “I’ll be sure to do that in the future, General.” He turned towards the office door. “Don’t worry General Odegard, some of your Army boys will be involved in this.”

“General Meritskov, it would seem that you’re well on your way to a nice, permenant desk job in the Chair Force.”

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

B-90A Zeus (GEM Aerospace B22) “Aluminum Overcast”
12th Bombardment Wing (Heavy), CRAF Bomber Command
3,000 km NE of Ferrum Lupus

“Course steady two-nine-zero, all wings now at the rally point.”

“Roger, that. We’re ready to go. Bombardier, are the weapons ready?”

“Weapons are warmed up, safeties are off. Target information and attack profiles programmed and locked, missiles one through forty. Final checks complete. We’re ready to go, sir.”

“Right then, let’s get to it. On my command … LAUNCH.”

From inside the bomb bay and underneath the wings, Aluminum Overcast and 299 identical B22s of the Chevrokian Republic Air Force released a massive raid of Aequatian-built AGM-202C and AGM-202E cruise missiles, 42 per bomber, for a total 12,600 missiles. The E marks of the missile, 4,200 of which were fired, were targeted for the runways themselves, their thirty 24 kilogram bomblets intended to damage runway surfaces, in addition to one hundred and fifty 1.7 kilogram anti-personnel mines for area denial around the damaged runway. The C marks of the missile carried 260 submunitions to cause severe damage to exposed aircraft and fuel depots, and 8,400 of these were launched of the total.

After release, the missiles gradually descended until they were skimming just above wavetop at Mach 0.81, their low speed and altitude making it extremely difficult for the Space Union forces to detect them. From this distance, the excellent range of the AGM-202s meant that they could hit targets into Ferrum Lupus by as much as 1,000 km past the coastline.

Meanwhile, well off to the southeast, a second group of 300 B22s were firing their own AGM-202s at the eastern portion of Ferrum Lupus, with another 12,600 missiles inbound. All told, there were now some 25,200 missiles were cruising towards the Space Union territory.

Oakwood Air Force Base, Kent, Akimonad

The massive bomber wings of the Thirty Fifth Air Force forward deployed to Akimonad were the only elements that would not be transferring to Hjeltland, although they would remain an important element in the coming Operation Hammer in the strikes against Ferrum Lupus. Major Maggie "Mad" Fletcher walked with the other three members of her crew towards their waiting B-198A Kodiak strategic bomber as ground crews removed the hose that was feeding the monstrously-large aircraft fuel for its eight turbofan engines, "Everything good to go, master sergeant?" Asked the major, her HGU-89/P flyer's helmet and MBU-17/P oxygen mask under her arm and a clipboard with squadron's mission outline in her other hand.

"I've completed my inspection and diagnostic of the bird," Replied Master Sergeant Terry Dokkins, the aircraft's crew chief, "She's as ready as she'll ever be, two dozen Taipan-Echoes as per the orders handed down from Ordinance," Explained the sergeant as the bomber's crew, clad in the issue OD107 shade CWU-33/P flyer's coveralls complete with the LPU-9/P "horse collar" type life preserver, GS/FRP-3 gloves and parachute harness to complete their ensemble. Under each of this was the SRU-67/P survival vest containing a P9A3 sidearm, stainless steel multi-tool, PRC-728 personal radio, flares, medical kit and other equipment.

The main targets of the 360 B-198A bombers composing of the six Bomber Wings that made up the offensive arm of the Thirty Fifth Air Force would be the massive airbases located throughout Ferrum Lupus in coordination with their Chevrokian allies launching from Hjeltland. A majority of the attacks would be launched against the runways using the AGM-202E Taipan air-launched cruise missile, renown for its stealth and flight capabilities, the missiles would fly a mere forty metres off the ground for most of their flight, dropping to almost fifteen metres as they closed on their targets in the terminal phase of their flight. The weapons would scatter cratering charges onto the tarmac, 24 kilograms of high explosive, which would rip massive holes and render them unusable until repair was made. To slow the repair efforts, the weapons also dropped one hundred fifty 1.7 kilogram Remote Anti-Personnel Mines that would also need to be cleaned before repair work could be performed.

Two hundred forty of the bombers would be releasing 5,760 weapons of this type against the runways and airfields, while the remaining hundred and twenty launched each 48 AGM-349A Rook stand-off weapons, the 5,760 satellite-guided missiles would be launched against protected hangers and fuel storage facilities, using their 450 kilogram, Deep-earth penetrator and high-capacity, high-explosive munitions to devastate their targets. Thanks to the ranges afforded by the weapons, the Aequatian bombers would fire from a number of locations well outside the borders of Ferrum Lupus, and even over other countries, in order to not only safeguard the aircraft, but allow the multiple vectors to best attempt to defeat the detection systems of the enemy forces. Once over their release point, Major Fletcher checked the time display in the cockpit and used the aircraft's intercom to call the weapons officer, "Mad-Five, it's about that time now, over."

"Wilco, Mad-Six," Replied Captain Joyce as he switched to speak with the other weapons officers aircraft of the squadron, "Mad Squadron, this is Mad-Five, ready weapons for launch, over."

A chorus of "Affirmative," rang out as the bomb-bay doors opened and the weapons were released, just as they were with the other aircraft of the Aequatian attack, and in flight towards their targets in coordination with those fired by the Chevrokians.

"Wing Command, this is Mad-Six, weapons released and we are bingo munitions, turning for home, over," Called Major Fletcher as she started to turn the plane, not having left Akimonad airspace for the release as the her wing's missiles started their flight across the Scandinavian colony of Mya towards Ferrum Lupus, just as those fired from over Holy Marsh or the coastline along the Aralonian province of Coercia.

"Roger that, Mad-Six," Came the reply, "Wing Command, out."

Overlord Alduous Plumb sat in his office surrounded by advisors and the upper councilors of the Supreme Council. News of the attack on Zukariaa had filtered across the airwaves and made the defense council highly nervous. In their long history together, Zukariaa and Tnemrot had shared close relations, thanks largely in part to the strong bond of paganism linking both countries together. Granted that Zukariaan and Tnemration paganism were different, it was still a unique and common bond in a region where most nations were monotheistic. The Tnemrations didn't necessarily see the Zukariaans as brothers but they weren't aliens either. With the pre-emptive strike on Zukariaa by the one state the Tnemrations and the Zukariaans would never have suspected, Cohenia, there was an air of risk and tension. Would the Tnemrations be next? The Zukariaans had allied with the Doomanis and the Tnemrations had never been enemies to the Doomanis either, despite their deep, religious differences. In the sovereign enclave of southeastern Tnemrot there was a large population of Doomani Catholics with self-rule. This linked the Tnemration Realm to the Doomanis by deep bonds. Would their plight be Tnemrots too?

The differences existed though. The Tnemrations didn't believe in slavery or piracy. Quite differently, they abhorred the practices but they abhorred breaches of sovereignty. To police one nation was to set a precedent that would justify further indiscretions. There was certainly a lot in the Tnemration Realm that foreign nations could find problematic and want to stand out on their own crusades. The treatment of the Esbat people for example could bring many bleeding hearts from around the world. There were tons of other causes people could find banners for and use to commence military action or economic sanction against the Tnemration Realm. Perhaps it was by no other means and choice that the Tnemrations would enter this conflict, if not to protect their own sovereignty and attempt to put a stop to any possible precedent.

There were other reasons to meet as well. The Shansekians had issued a decree that the war should, in essence, not enter the straits between Tnemrot and Shansekia. Overlord Alduous Plumb wasn't in disagreement. This Questarian-sponsored war would not be brought to the Bunny Straits. Shansekia was a nation that Tnemrot had a rocky history with but which had improved in the recent past. During the onset of the Pan-Havenic War both nations had fought a brutal war that left millions dead and led to the collapse of both the Shansekian and Tnemration governments. In the previous few decades though, both nations had come to some sort of reconciliation. The Tnemrations would have to make amends for the brutal warfare they waged, which included one of the first employments of chemical warfare in modern battle. The Shansekians, who started the war, would have to make amends there as well. Their stated neutrality was a welcomed comfort to the Tnemration councilors. The Tnemration Realm had a neutral nation to its east, a probable friend to the west, that left just the north, Kampfers.

Kampfers had already made their intentions known, they were with the Questarians. The Zukariaans were with the Doomanis. The Cohenians were with the Questarians. In the middle of this was the Tnemration Realm. If the Tnemrations allied with Questers they had enemies to their west and south and who knew where else. If the Tnemrations allied with Doomingsland, they had an enemy to the north. If they declared neutrality, they could see a way out of this, possibly intact but what option was that though. What would the councilors tell the future generations if Questers won, if sovereignty had been forever infringed upon by the outcome of this war. In reality, what choice did the Tnemration Realm really have?

The Shansekian declaration was the first step and the Cohenian attack was the nail that seemingly sealed the coffin. The Tnemration Realm was sandwiched in a tough spot and a sticky situation. Overlord Alduous Plumb said as much when he began his comments, "We are stuck here between a rock and a hard place. Our allegiances to morality and to relations are caught in a crossfire. We have a terrible and tough decision to make. On the one hand we have our allegiances and our future with the Doomanis, the Zukariaans, the Shansekians. On the other we have our own loathing for slavery and piracy, the latter of which the Questarians are committing. If we choose a side we choose one against our own conscience."

"Our military has been moved to a heightened state of alert. We have begun preparations and we have begun defensive measures my Lord. We believe that our closer allegiances to Zukariaa and Doomingsland will inevitable prompt military action against us unless we were to declare an open state of neutrality. We are fully prepared to resist a long offensive, should we be attacked. The Kampferians from the north are our biggest threat. We have a suitable air defense network to resist an airborne invasion or degrade it well below combat effectiveness. A naval landing on our shores would be devastating for enemy forces as well. Our own terrain permits two landing zones, one in the northeast and the other in the southeast. A steep cliff lines in between. If they attack us in the northeast, they attack one of our biggest naval strongholds and in the southeast, they attack the Doomani sovereign territory, who are highly weaponized. Their best bet is over land and on our side of the mountains. Anything to the west and they run into a semi-arid desert of little strategic value. We could appeal to our allies to assist us if such is the case."

"We can expect action from the Kampferians if we declare any allegiances to Doomingsland. It would be in their best interests to attack us." Overlord Alduous Plumb continued after listening to Defense Council Alexander Sorbin, an elderly male in his late 50s but who had served his entire life in the military. His tactical wisdom had single handedly stopped two offensives and averted a third during the 1970s. "This is my biggest concern. We are prepared. We cannot escape this situation without getting our hands bloody."

"No my Lord. It seems we cannot. The only issue lies, where and who do we side with and when." Associate Councilor Jacob Ibswitch added. He was young, relatively speaking, compared to the rest of the men. Only forty-nine years old, he was the youngest member of the council but, at the same time, he was second in line to the Overlord himself.

Overlord Alduous Plumb looked over the men sitting around the table, "I will decide in the morning." The stage was set and only his decision remained. The Supreme Council of Elders had already made theirs.

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Cravanian Broadcasting Network

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Carpanthians leave their homes in fear of Doomani aggression.

CBN 3
June 19, 2008


Mass Carpanthian Exodus At the Request of Annadale


"These images come to us live from Millingston International Airport as hundreds of citizens of the Carpanthian territory prepare to leave in fear of Doomani aggression and increased tensions on the Strobovia Strait. This mass exodus comes following a speech made in the House of Commons yesterday where Lady Annadale urged citizens in the region to flee to safety, for she felt that she could not guarantee that, despite a lack of hostile moves from Laurana, Carpanthium would not be singled out in a massed Doomani attack. Already Cravanian forces in the region are stepping up their regimens, and although they are not taking part in the anti-slaving operations Laurana has voiced support for Questaria and other Kingston Pact allies.

"Reporting to us live from the terminal at Millingston International is our Carpanthian correspondent, James Fretchert. James."

"Thank you, Marissa. It seems that many Carpanthians are willing to leave their homes considering the all too recent memories of the Four Day War. As you can see behind me, departure boards are lit up like mad as planes leave for locations from Hamptonian territories all the way to Willink and the Home Isles. An estimated ten thousand people have already left the territory, with almost forty-thousand more currently waiting to leave. One way trips are selling like mad, and flights are booked within minutes of being scheduled here in Millingston. Meanwhile, Carpanthians living in the countryside outside of Millingston have begun moving most of their belongings and families towards the city, with the assistance of Royal military personnel. Governor Archer has declared a state of emergency in the territory, and the Territorial Guards have been mobilized to further assist in the evacuation process and to maintain order. Word has it that while Governor Archer handles affairs here in Carpanthium, Leftenant Governor Simmons has been dispatched to meet in an emergency meeting with Prime Minister Brookes across the border. We have no word as of yet on any developments there.

"It may also be said that the Royal Cravanian Navy has increased its overall awareness in the Strobovia. Five carrier battle groups currently call the Strait their home, and rumor has it a sixth may be called down from the north to further bolster naval forces in the region. This is, however, unconfirmed.

"One thing is certain, though. Lessons learned from the Four Day War have not yet faded. Back to you Marissa."

"Thank you, James. Currently, we're going to be taking a commercial break, but when we come back we will continue coverage of this crisis in Haven around the clock. You're watching CBN."

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

"Liz, you damn well know we aren't going to be able to keep ourselves out of-"

"Shut it," First Director Annadale commanded as she rounded a corner towards the main conference room of the Offices of the Directorate, "We've too much to do to worry about the Doomani drawing us into conflict. At this point in time the Armed Forces stand at the ready and are fully capable of engaging any threats which present themselves at this time."

"Madame, Carpanthium is a sitting duck. There's well over twenty-five thousand, perhaps upwards of thirty Doomani tanks sitting on their border with Northford. You know as well as I do that those numbers-"

"Are inconsequential. The Doomani are arrogant and pompous. They'll be beaten with their own phalli."

Immediately Director of Defense Mellow's mouth was shut as he and Elizabeth entered the central conference room where the Cabinet met. "Situation report," Annadale demanded.

The assembled Directors shifted in their seats, until the Director of Agriculture finally looked Annadale in the eye and, despite lacking any knowledge whatsoever on the topic at hand, gave her best assessment.

"Madame, we're quite simply in a very bad position. The Kingston Pact supports us fully, but Carpanthium won't hold out to a Doomani attack as far as anyone can tell."

"What about up north? I understand the Sikhs have made some moves that perked the attention of the KGP in Ferrum Lupus."

"They have. The Doomani are still deployed there en masse and they have Sikh support," Director of Intelligence Halsey stated, "The Aequatians and resident Chevrokians are preparing a defense of the area."

"How long until we can have supporting forces in-region?"

"Airmobile? A few hours. Substantial airmobile? Two or three days. Naval and naval infantry? Six days."

"Put a carrier group in there, maybe even two if we can spare it. Have them move halfway but maintain course towards Chevrokian assets. I don't want to be seen making the aggressive moves here."

"Understood, ma'am."

Annadale walked to the front window which overlooked Liberty Square and watched as the everyday routines of the citizens of Laurana outside went on as if nothing greater were happening in the world.

"I want the armed forces ready to tackle anything those Doomani Bible freaks want to throw at us and then some. I have no intentions of starting a conflict. But if they want a war, they'll get their damned war."

"Ma'am, what about the Zukariaans?"

Annadale turned.

"What about them?"

"The Cohenians launched an assault a few hours ago. A surprise attack on Aiur," Director Halsey said while pausing, "They launched from Carpanthium."

"The Zukariaans don't know that, do they?"

"Not as far as we can tell. And even if they did, they'd probably assume the bombers came from Slovonsko. We could easily say so."

"Do it if they bring it up."

Annadale turned completely to face the table.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have a few meetings to attend to in the next few hours at the Halls of Parliament. I feel I need not remind you, however, that what happens in this room and this building will shape not only our lives and duties, but the lives of billions everywhere. We need to tackle this pragmatically and cautiously. I want to meet here again for a second Cabinet meeting tonight at eleven. In the meantime, do what you've always done," Director Annadale said to her assembled Cabinet, "God save the Queen."

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

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Court of Her Majesty the Queen of Cravan
Official Decree of the Eastern Crown


It is with great haste that I feel this must be said, as the empires across vast seas begin to war against one another in the names of their respective causes: Liberty and tyranny. Let it be known that now, and as always, the Cravanian Empire does stand by her allies and brethren in Liberty, for Liberty reigns supreme.

At this point in time, the Eastern Kingdom pledges itself to this ultimate and righteous cause of Freedom. Enemies of the Light of Liberty's torch beware; your end is nigh. The barbarity and suffering you inflict upon the innocent has no place in a civilized and free word.

At this point in time, however, the Cravanian Empire sees no need to throw itself into the fires of conflict yet again. However, our pledge is true. As such, it is by Royal Decree that the waters of the Strobovia are free waters. Should the chains of slavery attempt to creep their way into these free waters they will be broken that much more quickly. If Freedom makes the call, the fighting men and women of Cravan will answer as they always have.

Lady Questaria, Mother Cohenia, Father Kampfers; all carriers of the Light of Liberty: Lady Cravan stands by you. May God hold us all in His Light in these troubling times; may Lady Liberty guide us.

Signed,

Alice of Cravan
Her Majesty Alice, by Divine Grace, of the Empire of Cravan, her Kingdoms and her Territories Queen, Duchess of Aurde, Defender of the Faith, Protector of Liberty and Justice

RNS Chlevenkov – 3,415 km South South-East of Page, Soviet Bloc

Rear Admiral Gennady Lyachin silently swept the horizon with his pair of binoculars in a largely symbolic manner. Naval warfare had progressed significantly since the last time visual magnification devices were vital to warfare on the seas. Now, invisible radiation swept the skies and sea surface much further than any man could see. Just as the radars predicted, his binoculars revealed: there were no opponents within visual range or the radar’s. Fleet air cover, providing an extended reach, further proved that the fleet was alone in this corner of the seas. At least not yet, he thought to himself as he stood observing the actions of the bridge crew and ships laid about all around the centerpiece of the Fourteenth Expeditionary Fleet. He was passing the time before Operation Paper Jolly, the first of two sequential operations, was to begin at precisely 2215 local time. He had already given the briefing and laid out the fleet’s movements, so for now and into the foreseeable future was simply a waiting game.

Below him, on the flight deck, twelve Havenfighter-Ns were being prepped for take-off. Various deckhands and flight crew were making final adjustments to their warload and topping off their fuel tanks. They’d be lifting off with near the maximum load allowed for their frames and the launch catapults: conformal fuel tanks, external fuel tanks, and a limited self-defense missile payload. The first two Havenfighter-Ns taxied to their catapults, and with a final visual check, salute, and launch signal, they sequentially lofted airborne via the two electromagnetic catapults. The remaining Havenfighter-Ns followed, joining their circling comrades above before diverting to the east. Flying at the most fuel efficient cruise speed and at an altitude of thirty-two thousand feet, they made heading towards the Chevrokian Republic. Shortly, they were joined by twelve more Havenfighter-Ns. The group formed a typical advance scout chevron formation.

Captain Oleg Bortzov, the radar services officer [RSO] of flight-leader Carrier Fighter Squadron Sixty-Seven [CFS 67] Havenfighter-N, glanced at the mission profile currently displayed on the auxiliary LCD monitor. The mission profile itself had already been loaded into this Havenfighter and the eleven others, and as each time mark was reached, he simply observed as the mission computer updated the aircraft with its new orders. However, now they were reaching airspace in which the Chevrokians would be able to see, and find, them. He opted to take manual control of the system now, and after a quick glance at the Electronic Support screen indicating no foul radar contacts, missile approach warnings, or even the stray radar scan, he proceeded to directly modify and follow the mission parameters. He brought up the radar’s control system on his main access monitor and manually entered in the required frequency, pulse rate, power, and sweep characteristics of the Aquila-II fighter. To see if the parameters were correct, he pinged the nearest fighter with a computer-limited RF emission from the main element of the ALRQ/R75 at its furthest offset. With the intra-flight data communications and collective warning system, the ping registered on his Electronics Support screen as that of an Aquila-II’s whose distinctive radar emission had already been catalogued by the Havenfighter’s mission computers along with a data tag that it had originally emanated from an ARSB aircraft so the automatic ECM systems didn’t activate. He smiled underneath the oxygen mask even though their radar’s range would be reduced.

Satisfied with the results, he tapped the command in to transfer the proper data to the rest of the flight’s mission computers which, after confirmation by each RSO, modified the ALRQ/R75’s emission properties to match that of the Aquila-II. Captain Bortzov glanced at the mission profile screen again as one of the final time stamps approached before it finally went green. Using the Havenfighter’s intra-flight communications and data system, he transferred a text message to the RSOs and pilots where it was promptly displayed in their helmet mounted cuing systems and the mission profile screens to activate their ALRQ/R75 systems to their programmed settings. Each set became active and began scanning the horizon. Mimicking the Aquila II, the radars weren’t looking for an opponent per se, but were hoping to attract the attention of Chevrokian naval, air, or land assets to motivate a dedicated reaction to this perceived violation of national sovereignty by the Imperium Doomanum whom had just been the target of a Chevrokian attack. Retribution, it would appear, would be at hand.

The scenario was perfect. To the Chevrokian defenders, who would undoubtedly pick up the radio frequency emissions before ever being able to properly identify the source, would know they were Aquila IIs. Their heading was perfect. It would appear they were either carrier launched or launched from the shores of Ferrum Lupus, coming from a westward heading. They would see the twelve individual aircraft and perhaps surmise the group was the advance cover element for a dedicated strike mission. Or maybe, they were the strike mission.

The flight jettisoned their last external tanks, and would now sip fuel from the conformal tanks as they continued their incursion towards Chevrokia.




7th Strategic Bomber Wing – 650 km North West of Chevrokian mainland

The flight of SB-22 Sariels, numbering one hundred and twenty, skimmed over the waves of the waters separating Soviet Bloc and Chevrokia. They would rely on their stealth, sheer surprise, and the response of the Chevrokian air defense to the Armed Republic’s diversion attempt of a faux Doomani aerial strike coming from the west to infiltrate beyond Chevrokia’s initial air defense and fighter groups to get within the vital heartland of Chevrokia proper. The group of bombers, however, wasn’t quite alone, but several E/B-177J Coldun SEAD/EW aircraft hovered in their wake. They were fairly stealthy, but hung in the wake of their larger brethren for the additional protection from probing radar. When the time came, they would push up front and begin the dirty job of suppressing Chevrokian air defenses via both electronic warfare and the anti-radiation weapons they carried.

Four hundred kilometers from the northern shores of Chevrokia sat the Twenty First Expeditionary Fleet preparing its own flights of Havenfighter-Ns, fresh from the production presses, to bail the SB-22s out if need be and provide a welcome distraction to the Chevrokian air defense systems and fighter cover if the need arose.

However, both actions would wait, and for now, they were undetected and unexpected and would remain so until the Chevrokians reacted to the diversionary attempt, which would come to fruition before the bomber group came within striking distance of Chevrokia. Operation Burnt Well, a name randomly generated but surprisingly fitting, would begin.




Colgate Naval Station, Soviet Bloc

The Second and Eighth Expeditionary Fleets and the Twelfth Amphibious Assault Group set sail from the Colgate Naval Station on the Eastern Shore of the Armed Republic. They were carrying thousands of Marines and their equipment and almost two hundred aircraft as they steamed eastward towards the Clandonian Virgin Islands. They would slip through the various small islands of the Armed Republic’s before meeting with yet another expeditionary fleet and its organic Marine element before pushing towards the Clandonian territory. Further assets were being diverted for the effort while other assets were being remobilized towards Armed Republic waters.




The actions of the Armed Republic wouldn’t be known until it was likely too late. The Republic had sat idle for years, content with her own shores and her own place in the world. Times, however, change and as the Questerian Empire and her allies attempted to place hegemony over Haven, the Armed Republic found it suitable and worthwhile to mobilize for war. Sovereignty, it seems, could not be tread upon.


OOC- Chev, I'll need some likely targets that would be in the north-western part of your country.

In the days after the sinking of the Doomani slaver, Haven's quick and steady progress toward war was evident to nearly every informed adult. The Hamptonian government, taking cues from past conflicts, promptly began to send out delegations to major allies, friends and other likely participants. It was in this atmosphere that Foreign Secretary Cristiano Arikan asked two of the government's better known figures to lead up a mission to the Mid-South-Western Haven continent. Oskar Solberg, Minister of State for Allied Affairs, and Royal Senate Proconsul (as well as former Foreign Secretary) Stephen Larsen were to confer with Cravanian, Rosdivani and Cohenian officials.


The flight from Oltremare had been on Royal Air Force supersonic transport but due to scheduling conflicts the two had to fly from Carpanthium to their next stop in Bratislava, Slovonsko. After Solberg and Larsen's rushed meeting with the Cravanians in Carpanthium both men were ready for some rest; the slower flight on a WorldAir passenger jet would allow both men time to sleep and collect their thoughts. Solberg, who at seventy still had the physique of a Royal Marine officer, looked forward to all the activity. He loved jetting from city to city and meeting with foreign leaders. He was a pleasant and easy going man whom, despite his age, still had a bright future in the government.

Larsen, on the other hand, did not have as much enthusiasm for their mission. He was still haunted by his forced ouster as Foreign Secretary. He knew that his position as one of two Proconsuls was equivalent to political exile. It was only his close friendship with Chancellor Hayek that kept him in politics at all. Now, Arikan had only asked him to accompany Solberg because he was already in Oltremare on unrelated Senate business. After only one day of the diplomatic mission, Larsen was already showing signs of strain and wear. He passed the time in the airport playing cards with a Cravanian MP, Eric Jones, who was on the same flight to Slovonsko. The moment that he took his seat in first class on the plane he fell asleep.

The air traffic controllers out of Carpanthium were carefully rerouting all flights to air corridors outside of Nuclearum's airspace. WorldAir Flight 4261 and its two hundred and five crew and passengers flew in an abnormally easterly corridor toward the Cottish coast. 150km from the coast turbulence began to violently shake the aircraft, the plane rising and dropping in the sky hundreds of feet at a time. The Hamptonian pilots, seeing that the sky to the east was even more turbulent, were forced to wrestle the jet closer and closer to Doomani controlled airspace. After struggling for nearly twenty minutes the plane was back into clear skies.

As the first officer was about to radio Cottish air control for overflight permission a gruff and hostile voice came barking over the radio. At first the voice was speaking in an unintelligible language but then it switched to English, "You have entered the airspace of the Imperium Doomanum. By order of the Emperor you will be taken into custody to be searched. Enemies of the Imperium will be arrested."

The flight crew looked at each other with panic in their eyes. There were no words for the situation, nothing that they could even think of. No more than a minute after the voice came over the radio three interceptors appeared within eyesight of the cockpit. "We are going to have to do what these buggers say," the captain sighed, "but try to get a message off to somebody before it's too late...if it isn't so already."

It was just a matter of time before the passengers knew something was wrong. Once one of the people in economy class saw an armed fighter flying abnormally close to the plane people began to fear the worse. Flight attendants attempted to comfort the passengers but there was little they could do. The Doomani were in the best of circumstances not known for their civility; with war on the horizon there would be no limit to their cruelty. Solberg and Larsen could only guess what the Doomani would do to two senior officials of a government that publicly declared its intention to restrict Doomani slave commerce.

Appealing to their common military background Solberg took Larsen aside as the plane began its forced descent. "If the Doomani decide to hold us we have to act as if we are prisoners of war. We can give them nothing they could possibly use against us or the United Realms. We may not be wearing uniforms but by God we are loyal servants and citizens."

After his short speech he fell silent. In fact, everyone in the plane stopped making any sounds. Parents hugged their children, couples comforted each other and people that had never before met each other consoled those around them. Some thought it was all a bad dream that they would wake up from at any moment. Once the plane touched down and came to a halt in the middle of a huge military base no one could ignore the truth any longer. Sets of stairs were moved to the plane's exit doors and Doomani soldiers clad in black waited to enter the plane.

It was all too real for everyone now.

Downing Street Parking Garage, Level 7
Downtown Hudson
0800 Hours

"I want those agricultural reports finalized by lunchtime, Minister Rodgers. No excuses." Arthur Cavington barked these orders through his BMW 750i's car phone to his Minister of Agriculture, David Rodgers, as he guided the luxury vehicle into it's parking space. With a curt reply, the junior minister hung up, and Arthur cut his engine. There was much to be done that day: reports on agriculture, the economy and national security, as well as a rather important vote on fox hunting to be had. In spite of all this however, Cavington had not lost track of the growing crisis in Haven: the slavery issue. A Royal Navy cruiser squadron had intercepted a Doomani freighter, or so he was told, but he was unaware of the results. However, for the time being he had resolved to place the issue in the back of his mind and focus upon what really mattered: running Prestonia.

That resolution was shattered before Cavington even stepped out of his car. As he unbuckled his seatbelt his car phone began ringing again, and the caller ID displayed the number of his junior aide, the seventeen year old Harold Kingsley.

"Yes, Mr. Kingsley?," Cavington queried as he clipped his seatbelt back on, knowing that this unexpected call could only bring bad news.

"Prime Minister, pardon my Zukariaan but the shit has hit the fan. Your presence is requested at the Ministry of Defense as soon as possible. You'll be briefed when you get there."

"Aye, cancel my appointments for the day and let them know that I'll be there in ten," Cavington replied, doing his best to conceal the dread in the pit of his stomach.

Ten minutes later, his car was parked outside the Defense Ministry building, and he was running inside as fast as his 58 year old frame could carry him. A few corners and a security screening later, he was in the spacious conference room, where the Defense Minister, Air Marshall, First Sea Lord, Army Chief of Staff and His Majesty the King were assembled.

"Well, give me the worst of it then," Cavington said resignedly as he took a seat. At this, the Army Chief of Staff, a wizened old general named David G. Oliver who was approaching 70 years of age, spoke up.

"The Doomies have force-landed a civilian airliner containing allied diplomats in Nuclearum. We believe they intend to use them as hostages for a political bargaining tool, or just outright kill them to provoke a war. In response, we've started sending troops down to Carpanthium and expect to send more to Northford. If the Doomies break open the southern theater and roll through North and Carpa, Prestonia gets another dagger pointed at her throat. Obviously, we cannot allow that to happen."

"How many troops, exactly?," Cavington queried.

"About seventy-five thousand, to start. Ian here is also sending three carrier battle groups to the area around Carpa to assist the Cravno-Northfordian fleets in keeping the Doomies of their backs," Oliver replied, gesturing toward First Sea Lord Ian Grey.

"How long will this take, exactly?"

"Around a week, we're running around-the-clock but it's difficult to move that many men in quick order even with our resources."

"Aye, so I suppose this is it then? We're really at war after all these years?," Cavington asked, now sounding much older than his fifty-eight years.

"The Act of War was signed this morning Arthur. We're in this for the long haul," the King said gravely.

"Very well then. We shall all do our part for King and Country." With that, the men got up in unison, exchanged salutes, and left the conference room. In ten short minutes the history of Prestonia had been forever altered. The Kingdom was at war.

Port Elizabeth Naval Station
Port Elizabeth
1230 Hours

"All right, all right, quiet down and listen up," General Mark Gordon barked at the assembled division of 15,000 soldiers. These men were his division, the 3rd Mechanized Infantry, and after a week of nail-biting tension and exhaustive drills since being called to DEFCON 1, they were finally mobilizing. "We've just been ordered to Carpanthium to assist in the reinforcement effort there. Rumor has it we may be sent to Northford to help garrison against the Doomani forces in Nuclearum. Upon arrival your commanders will be briefed with theater-specific orders and deployments. Now, in thirty minutes you will assemble yourselves onto one of those three vessels." Gordon paused here to gesture toward three amphibious assault ships moored behind him.

"Your brigade commanders have your ship assignments. When you are called to assemble there will be no grab-ass, no excessive running off at the mouth and no wandering around. We're at war ladies and gentlemen, and it's time to start acting like it." With that, General Gordon issued the command "Brigade Commanders, take charge of your units," and stepped down from the bandstand upon which he had been standing. This mobilization was one of the largest deployments Prestonia had ever conducted, and Gordon knew that getting five divisions of men, supplies, and heavy equipment across the Strobovian Strait would be no easy task in peacetime, much less in wartime with the ever-present threat of Doomani submarines lurking in the depths. One thing was certain however: the massive troop deployment coupled with the deployment of three carrier groups promised to make Port Elizabeth, Prestonia's sole Strobovian port, a very busy place.

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Everywhere in Allanea, war preparations were now at full steam. All leave was canceled for all active personnel, and the General Army Headquarters was giving serious thought to turning out the reserves. The United States of Allanea knew full well that a war with Doomingsland would be hard and prolonged, and would require the full muscle and will of the nation behind it. If the United States of Allanea wanted to free the slaves – and the majority of Allaneans did want to free the slaves – then it had to be prepared for the effort.

Even as a variety of pro-peace protestors prepared their final efforts, various Allanean corporations began putting out patriotic posters of various content, with the company logo printed neatly on the side or in a corner. They hoped that the population would later see the company as 'patriotic', causing a rise in popularity. Other posters were created by the Army Recruitment Office and by various private endities that supported the war. Between them, they seemed to outnumber any feeble anti-war effort that existed.

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The Boy Scouts of Allanea were called to duty – not as frontline troops, of course, but in a giant civil defense effort. Every one of them was given a package of Rear Defense Corps booklets to hand to his parents and their neighbors – explaining how to prepare your basement to be a proto-bomb shelter and how to build your own air raid shelter in your yard, how to prepare for chemical attacks, and so forth. In Port-Allanea's Founder Park, city services and the Boy Scout Corps dug out basic underground shelters, for the occasion the park was hit by Doomani air raids.

Civilians were being urged to purchase gas masks if they didn't have them yet, to replenish their bug-out-bags, and to stockpile more ammunition for their firearms. Air defense units unfolded their weapons systems in key areas. Allanea was gearing for a fight.

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From the various bases of the Allanean Army abroad, troops were steaming into the Havenic territories by aircraft. From the tiny Whippet to the massive Ouroboros, almost all of the cargo capacity of the Allanean Air Force was deployed to give more troops, more tanks, more cannon to this one crucial front. At the military bases, strategic stockpiles, filled with years' worth of military procurement – missiles, shells, bombs – were being opened up and inspected, soon to be used by bomber pilots, artillery gunners, sailors and troops.

The war factories went on a hiring binge as the United States Government went out on billions' of dollars worth of emergency procurement orders for ammunition, uniforms, even aircraft and ships. The latter would not be there on time for the war's start, but it was useful to order them ahead of time. If something was sunk or shot down during the war, it would be too late to order it then.

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“Remember...” - spoke Frederick Key, one of Allanea's most famous televangelists - “the Doomani Catholic church is the enemy of freedom! It is the enemy of God! To this day, the Doomani practice evil, and slavery, and disaster, and sin, and all kinds of wrong doing! To this day, they re-enact the crucifixion of God Our Lord Jesus Christ, with living victims! Have you ever heard a Doomani protest against this? Have you? You know why that is? Because the Doomani are goddamn evil, that's why! Because they are the agents of Satan on this Earth! Because the Doomani Catholic Church, that whore church of theirs, has corrupted their minds!”

“But Allanea – Allanea is not perfect, of course. Over eighty percent here are godless hedonists. But at least people here respect Christianity. At least people don't torture, and loot, and pillage the world lke the Dooman. And you know, we are not perfect. Nobody said we're perfect. But we're good. And they are evil.”

“This is why why we must go there and fight them, and win, and with our arms, God will punish the Doomani for their sins. Remember this when you see their cities on fire. When you hear about their suffering, remember that they are suffering for nothing else but their own sins. When a Doomani widow cries for her husband, tell her he shouldn't have engaged in a fight to protect slavery and oppression and the Doomani Catholic Church.”

“And whatever else happens, no matter how many tanks and guns and jets and dollars and troops and executioners they have, no matter how powerful they seem, you must always remember, above all else, that simple truth. We are good. They are evil. And God is on our side.”

GONG GONG GONG resounded the general alarm as feet beat madly to their stations. "General quarters, all hands man battle stations missile. This is not a drill, Repeat, general quarters, all hands man battle stations missile." Food was left uneaten and much desired sleep forgotten in the haste to reach their stations. This was not a call that could be ignored or attended too only slackly; not on this boat, not in this area, not with the world's current tensions.

-----

Lord Protector Edward Hutton gazed into the camera that sat opposite his desk. Beyond the camera he could see the murals that covered the walls of the High Office. The murals showed scenes of what was usually described as medieval chivalry, but every Lord Protector understood their true meaning and purpose. They served to remind them of their charges, the Rosdivani people, and their staggering duties toward them, to guide and protect them, keeping the fires and troubles and atrocities of a sinful world as far away as possible from them.

"Fellow Rosdivani, I come before you today with a heavy responsibility. You are aware of the recent crisis regarding the despicable act of slavery being conducted by the Empire of Doomingsland. Joining with several other nations, we have declared an end to the Doomani slave trade..."

-------

"Make your depth 100 feet, speed five knots," spoke Captain James Anderson. "Aye aye sir, depth 100 feet, speed five knots," responded the officer of the watch. Slowly the boat rose from its earlier holding depth, deep below the thermoclines, and began to rise, an occasional creak being heard as the pressure on the boat lessened through the hundreds of feet that it climbed.

-------

"The Doomani claim to be following God in their slavery and that their wars are holy Crusades, that all who oppose them are heathens. But it is they who are the heathen, it is they who follow an anti-pope, and it is they who shall fall to the armies of righteousness. "

"Did not Christ come to give freedom to the world? Did he not raise us out of our slavery to sin? Are we not all one family of brothers and sisters? Yet the Doomani enslave, they butcher, they crucify little children! And they claim all this in the name of Christ."


------

"Sir, targeting guidance has been input and the missiles spun up," reported the weapons officer as the lights on his console blinked from red to green, signifying the aforementioned status.

"Very well, open the hatch doors," responded Captain Anderson. A low reverberation filled the submarine as the hatches cycled open and tons of water filled the submarine, surrounding the canistered missiles.

------

"The Doomani have been told time and time again that their conduct is beyond reproach. The nations of the world have tried to reason with them. When reason failed, we tried to take measures to put an end to the reach of their depravity. But the Doomani worship blood. When international forces seized slavers, their crews did not bother resisting. Instead, they occupied their time slaughtering the enslaved persons that were their abominable cargo, simply as an act of defiance."

--------

"Launch the missiles," softly ordered Captain Anderson.

"Launching missiles, aye aye sir," reported the weapons officer as he first inserted his key into his console, then turned it ninety degrees to the right, before pressing a single button.

Pressurized air began casting missiles out their cells and up towards the surface. Not all of the missiles of course, some would be held back as a reserve and others simply were not suited for this target set. Once they breached the surface, a rocket fired, bringing the Tomahawk missiles up to their proper speed and altitude before they dropped away into the sea while the missiles went on their lonely journey. Thirty-two SSGNs had participated in the launch and roughly four thousand missiles were now on their way to the western ports of Nuclearum. Most were targeting the port infrastructure, a few major electric substations or powerplants, still others carried submunitions to knock out known fixed radar and air defense sites.


------

"And so, though we do this with heavy heart, we must stand beside our international brethren to combat this deadly menace. It is our greatest hope that one day, a free Doomingsland will be able to stand with the world and proclaim the greatest virtues of the Faith. But as of right now, the Commonwealth of Rosdivan finds it to be her solemn duty to declare war on the Imperium of Doomingsland."

North Point, Wolfenhalle

North Point was the home of the Northern Fleet aka "Ambrose Sea Fleet." The fleet which the RNS Liberty City was attached to, was preparing to set sail on it's operation. The Wolfehaller plan was to engage all enemy forces in Southeastern Haven, the Northern Fleet was to assault all enemy vessels it sees on it's patrol. Leopold Stalver was the commander of the fleet and the incharge of carrying out the order. He sits in office on the ship, the fleet was to link up with the Liberty City and sail on it's mission. The fleet steams out to sea to began naval operations. The Home Fleet, stationed at Port Stanford was to patrol Southeastern Haven.

RNS Liberty City Battle group

The Liberty City and her escorts spotted a Doomani merchant vessel, the orders were to identify the vessels as slave ships or not. If slave ships, then group was to stop them, board and free the slaves. After that, the ship was destroyed and the crewmen that surrendered were freed and send back home. If not a slave ship, it was seized and crew send home. The vessels neared the ships to identify them. "Sir, I think they are slave vessel." said the seaman on watch. The group send out a message.

This is the RNS Liberty City, We are reasonable belief that your vessel is a slave ship. Stop the ship and allow us to board you. If you do anything hostile, you will be fired upon.

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Aequatians Deploy to Hjeltland
Tensions high as strikes made against Ferrum Lupus

Streymnes, Chevrokian Hjeltland - The first elements of the Aequatian Seventeenth Army (Forward) arrived today within the Chevrokian territory of Hjeltland in order to support the defensive efforts of their allies against potential invasion from the nearly four million Doomani troops making up the garrison in the Spacium Concordian colony of Ferrum Lupus. After being released for the deployment by Dr. Jules Hodz of Akimonad, as per the Kent Agreement, the units of the Seventeenth Army were moved into their positions and welcomed by their Chevrokian allies.

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Aequatian 27th Infantry Division (Air Assault) troops on patrol in Hjeltland.

The Aequatian deployment comes at a time of high tension throughout Haven as the allied coalition of the Kingston Pact faces off against the Doomani Imperium and its puppet states over the issue of slavery. While President Alexis Castle has vowed to support the fight against the Doomani, Aequatian deployments thus far have been in support of allied partners such as Cravan, Chevrokia and Franberry. The Republic has also vowed to increase its numbers within Haven by nearly double with an added eight million personnel being activated for mobilization at home for the various branches for operations in support of allied efforts.

There has been no comment from the commanders of either the Seventeenth Army or HAVENCOM concerning plans for the Aequatian forces deployed to Hjeltland other than they would simply remain on the defensive against any cross-border aggression from the Doomani troops in Ferrum Lupus.

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Angela Terry, reporting from Streymnes, Hjeltland

Ferrum Lupus Border Zone, Chevrokian Hjeltland

Lieutenant Bureiro sat in the rear compartment of the M50 Lucas mechanized combat vehicle with the rest of his headquarters section as his platoon, along with the rest of his battalion and a company of M20A4 Mackall main battle tanks drove on the main causeway towards the unit's designated position. The vehicles drove atop the roadways with rubber pads mounted on their tracks, in order to limit the damage done to the local infrastructure, as they passed Chevrokian civilians in their own vehicles moving in the opposite direction having been informed to evacuate the border region with the Concordian colony. The lieutenant sat next to the sergeant vehicle commander, donned in the Woodland DARPAT Mark.IV RNBC protective suit with his M108A1 Rebreather with its hook-up to the vehicle's filter system, "How much farther to the assembly area, sarnt?"

Without even looking down at the junior officer, "Map says about fifty minutes or so, we meet up with second battalion and head to the defensive position as one."

"Right," Replied the lieutenant as he turned to his section, "Thank you, sergeant."

The entire battalion arrived on its position in the border zone, covering a frontage of about a kilometre, forming a broad front with the rest of the brigade as the soldiers and field engineers began to fortify their location. The firepower afforded by the armoured infantry made them a much more powerful opponent than their light or airmobile counterparts as the engineers and vehicle crews dug vehicle trenches for each one, allowing for a hulldown position protected with not only earth but armoured plating similar to that on the Mackall tanks. The infantry themselves began to dig in their own positions, each vehicle's attached team forming four-man slit trenches and sighted their weapons accordingly as they coordinated with not only the rest of their platoonmates, but with the vehicles as well, including the powerful Mackall tanks that remained the most hidden from aerial reconnaissance thanks to camouflage netting and the use of their APU modules in place of their massive engines.

The engineers used their own combat vehicles and bulldozers to dig massive tank ditches, wide enough to defeat the most common assault bridges along with their other duties of hanging obstacles such as concertina wire in their "triangle" form with three stacked in the shape. The engineers initiated the creation of the dense minefields as M939A5 5-ton and even the heavier M985A3 HEMTT trucks were brought from the supply zone at the brigade's central command post out to the corresponding units as they began to arm and lay mines, mainly planting the M105 automated wide-area munitions along bypass routes of the fixed locations along the now-fortified roadblocking positions. The roadblocks on the main highways were reinforced with visible Czech hedgehog steel obstacles and a number of concrete Dragon's Teeth spikes planted on the ground. The M105 WAM uses acoustic and seismic sensors in its ground platform to detect, track, and classify potential targets, and then launches an infrared detecting submunition over the top of the selected target. Once the submunition detects the target, it fires an explosively formed penetrator (EFP) to defeat the target with a standoff lethal radius of a hundred meters, 360 degrees around and is fully autonomous from final arming to target engagement.

The remainder of the mines being deployed in front of the front lines were via the GATOR II Mine Deployment System (MDS) using the borrowed Air Force BA-74E "Scimitar" tactical bombers as they dropped the 450-kilogram cluster bombs at speeds around three hundred knots at altitudes of between a hundred and one thousand meters. A fuze in the weapon controls the opening of the dispenser at one of ten predetermined altitudes between nine hundred and ninety metres using a ranging LIDAR aboard the Ospreys. Arming begins when the dispenser opens with the activation of the mines batteries. The circular mines have a rectangular plastic "aeroballistic" adaptor. Once the mines reach the ground they arm in between one and ten seconds. The Chevrokian commanders expressed their concerns with a mine system which was impossible to chart for disposal, but the Aequatian engineering officers assured them that the mines were set to self-destruct after a period of three weeks. Any which would fail to do so would be rendered disabled after a month's time when the batteries' power expired and completely safe to hunt and dispose of after the end of hostilities. Within four hours of work, the aircraft had sown thirty eight kilometres of minefields along the front lines, each one a thousaldn metres in-depth, and each square kilometre of the field inlaid with up to nine hundred sixty mines, one out of each six a BLU-99 anti-personnel munitions and the remainder BLU-98 anti-tank mines, a most assured buffer against any advance by either infantry or armour.

The BLU-98 anti-tank mine is the heart of the GATOR II MDS. A low flat cylinder with a rectangular aeroballistic shell. A magnetic sensor in the mine detects targets, when it detects a suitable target and the target reaches the most vulnerable approach point it detonates the mine. The mine is also triggered if the mine is moved, or if the battery reaches a certain low voltage point. Once the fuze is triggered, a small clearing charge is fired that clears any debris that may be on top of the mine. A second larger charge is triggered half a second later, creating an Explosively Formed Penetrator using the Misznay-Schardin effect capable of penetrating almost ten centimetres of rolled homogeneous steel armour, more than sufficient for penetrating the under armour of even main battle tanks. To compliment the BLU-98 anti-tank munitions were also the BLU-99 anti-personnel mines, mixed in at a one-to-six ratio with the anti-tank weapons. After the BLU-99 reaches the ground, and the arming delay has passed - a squib is fired launching eight tripwires from the mine. Tension on any of the wires triggers the mine electronically and has an effective fragmentation radius of about twenty five meters. Like the BLU-98, the anti-personnel weapon also has an anti-handling device integrated with it to prevent it from being disarmed by hand and detonate upon being moved or dismantled.

The main advance was expected directly across the border into Hjeltland from Ferrum Lupus, however, Aequatian commanders in Streymnes had prepared for a right hook through the territory of the former Holy Marsh by attaching units to prepare for a counterattack across the border to meet the enemy advance. Even though the engineers were busy laying area denial weapons in Hjeltland, they were working alongside military intelligence as they helped set up a number of advanced sensor systems which were connected to the Command and Control Centre at Streymnes in the former Holy Marsh. The sensors field included multimode sensors for target detection, location and classification; and an imaging capability for target identification in place of conventional reconnaissance and scout units. The would be used to perform mission tasks such as surveillance, target acquisition and situational awareness, including Radiological, Nuclear, Chemical, Biological early warning. Any enemy units passing within the detection field of the hidden sensors would be immediately detected and their location known to Aequatian intelligence and operations staff and passed on to field commanders for a quick response, including air and fire mission strikes and even full counterattacks by ground forces. The moment that the Doomani troops moved across the border and were detected by the sensors, the Aequatian armoured fist would be prepared to push them back.

In addition to their military objectives, the Aequatians also aided in the humanitarian mission as well, after the unloading of their equipment and supplies at the defensive positions and returning to the central brigade point, the Aequatian drivers in the M939A5 trucks would stop at the various villages and townships along the way back and embark the civilians in order to bring them to Streymnes so that they were away from the potential combat zones in the coming onslaught. The personnel aboard the trucks would help the civilians load their belongings aboard the cargo compartments and help to secure the people, one young lance corporal rode in the back with a single mother and her little girl on his lap the entire trip to Streymnes, refusing to be away from them as they both reminded him too much of his own wife and daughter back home in Vanaheim. Although Aequatian flags on the vehicles were not common, each one brought cheers from people as they vehicles moved passed the civilian areas in the countryside and the streets of Streymnes as the smiling soldiers waved back proudly to the people they were protecting, one special occasion occurred when there was a delighted roar from the Aequatian column when a young woman stripped to the waist and her bra was swung aboard one of the passing HEMTT trucks and armoured vehicles to yells of approval by the soldiers.

As one Aequatian brigadier said to the Chevrokian and Questarian press earlier that morning, "The Doomani and their wicked allies might be fighting for the land that Hjeltland occupies, but we're fighting for the people, and their spirit of freedom, that live here."

Haleigha Sea

The spectre of the major theatre war that was to overcome the region seemed a world away to those forces garrisoned on the island of Volstad, but their contribution was just as important as the soldier on the ground in Hjeltland or the fighter over Rio Negro, as the carrier battle group formed around the Enterprise class fleet carrier RNS Eagle set sail from its normal patrol circuit in the mouth of the Haven Strait and set a course for Kampferian Reich, given the new threat posed by the nation of Tnemrot to its immediate South.

Aviation Ordinanceman Rocco Tilly sat with the rest of his team as they watched a pair of A-16C Invader light bombers shot off the deck's bow catapults armed with AGM-200B Typhoon anti-ship missiles as they took up their position on the patrol perimeter along with the F-124A Bullwhip fighters flew their combat air patrols with E-2G Hawkeye II airborne early warning and control aircraft. It would be nearly a week until they were ready to assist their Kampferian allies South.

Martins Naval Base, Hope's Landing, Aequatius Septum, Arterus

The growing conflict within Haven was on the mind of every Aequatian living in Arterus as the mobilization order came down for the forces deployed to the overseas territory be prepared for deployment to Tudor City in Havenite Rosdivan. Originally trained for immediate deployment to Southwestern Haven since the end of the Four Day War to combat the nations of APOC, the Aequatians would now be moving to fight against the tyrannical rule of Doomingsland and their forces which now threatened the Republic's allies. The Seventh Fleet and its accompanying Seventh Fleet Marine Force would set sail for Haven, nearly ninety thousand marines, thousands of aircraft and hundreds of warships and supporting vessels were all part of the convoy plowing through the waters.

RAS Charleston, Cravan

"Forty six hours..." Grumbled Lieutenant-Colonel Nicholas Jones as he climbed down from the C-767A passenger liner, referring to the entire flight plus its one layover in Saint Angelica for refueling in Aerova, "If I don't ever see another plane again, it'll be too soon."

"Colonel," Piped the newly-arrived Captain Robert Pollack, officer in command of Echo Company, "You forget the patch on your arm," He said, tapping on the subdued shoulder patch sewn on Jones' uniform with the bold "AIRBORNE" across its bottom.

"Thank you, captain, I shall keep that in mind when I have you near the door when it comes time to jump," The colonel said with a smile as the group of officers disembarked the aircraft, each complete in their Woodland DARPAT battle dress uniforms, windproof "Para" smock, the lightweight "Defender" Pattern Modular Assault Vest, RNBC equipment, M1988 Pattern pouches and canteens, M7 "FJ" Pattern helmet or Maroon beret with Airborne Corps cap badge and the large "Airborne" issue rucksack with lightweight, waterproof DARPAT poncho/cover and lightweight entrenching tool attached.

Each of the soldiers wore the same issue kit with the exception of Command Sergeant-Major Jason Rottman, 2 Commando's RSM, who had traded his original airborne smock for a privately-acquired, OG103 shade ARMC Pattern water- and windproof smock with handpainted camouflage. The veteran NCO walked with a faded beret covering his grayed hair cut short in the regiment's "high and tight" style, just as he had it graduating from the Army's Airborne School twenty years prior, as he stepped down the stairway from the plane, his painted G122 carbine in-hand as he approached the assembled personnel of 2 Commando's Headquarters and Echo Company, "Atten-hun!" He shouted as the paratroopers stood at attention, both companies in formation, as Jones stood before the rest of the Commando as Foxtrot, Golf and Hotal Companies joined the formation.

"Keep your gear with you, trucks are arriving soon to take us to the waiting Cravanian airborne division that the brigade's being folded into," Started the colonel, "You've got twenty minutes until the Starlifters are brought around to unload equipment and supplies onto the trucks, after that you'll know more as I do," Jones said as he picked up his pack, "Good news though, there will be time for some sack time once you're quartered away with the Cravanians, carry on."

"Sleep would be nice," Commented Lance Corporal William Engels, a SAW gunner for one of Echo Company's rifle platoons, "Even if it's just on a spartan rack in some shed."

"Fuck, a bedroll and a tent would do it for me," Replied Trooper Juliet Harper as she walked with the rest of the squad to their assigned waiting area, "Sleeping sitting in those airliner seats is torture enough."

Trooper Arthur Franik could not help himself but smile, "I thought you liked it hard, Jules," He joked, slinging his G121 rifle over his back as he hauled his ruck in his hand.

"Sure, you wish, Arty," Shot back Harper as she walked with her own rifle in-hand, "You wouldn't know what to do with me if you had it," She said with a wry grin.

"Cut the chatter, you hens," Interrupted Staff Sergeant Michael Holland in a serious tone, the platoon assistant, "You're paratroopers, remember? You all like it hard," He said to a chorus of laughter from the squad as they marched across the grass inbetween the tarmac as the aircraft that were empty taxied to be refueled.

EZ-12A Skytop, 33rd Air Control Squadron
Orbiting 200 km Northwest of Petersburg, Chevrokia Proper
Altitude 80,000 feet

Being assigned to a Skytop unit in the Republic Air Force was considered, to many people, a fairly relaxing, albeit rather dull job, for most of the time. Other people dwelled upon the issue of boredom, as the Skytops could stay aloft for days on end in standard configuration, even longer if tethered to a fixed position such as a ground station or a picket ship. Endless hour after hour went by watching the tracks of long range civilian air traffic, Chevrokian and allied military aircraft on exercises and routine patrols, on and on it went. However, the intruders off the west coast brought back Airman Arne Ericsson, and ultimately the rest of the Skytop’s crew, to full alertness.

“What the hell?”

“Is there a problem, Airman Ericsson?”

“I can’t say just yet, Colonel.”

“Well Airman, one thing you could do is tell me what exactly you see. That’s not too difficult, is it? No? Good, so let’s hear it.” Colonel Harek Arneson, clearly, was one of those people who did not enjoy long Skytop patrols.

“Well Lieutenant, we’ve got contacts here, count of twenty four. Current position 700 kilometers due west of Petersburg. Stand by for course and speed … right. Altitude 32,000 feet, course zero-nine-zero, due east, speed 560 knots.”

“Any more of a positive identification?”

“Well … they’re putting out radio and radar emissions like that an Aquila-II, sir.”

“Hang on. Aquila-II? Two squadrons of Aquila-IIs, coming from straight west, subsonic and at a cruising altitude, banging away on active radar?” the Lieutenant said, with a rather confused tone to his voice. “Am I the only one here that sees a problem with this picture?”

“The Aq-II is a pretty stealthy aircraft, sir. Why would they give that advantage away?”

“They wouldn’t. A competent operator would make as little noise as possible for as long as possible.” The Lieutenant paused for a moment. “Unless of course, their entire point is to make noise so we’ll go after them … distracting us from something else. But distracting us from what exactly?” he asked, not expecting an answer in return. “In any case, we need to check it out. Are there any friendly planes in that area?”

“Hold on a moment, sir.” Ericsson said, while referring to his multitude of displays. “Yes sir, we’ve got the 843rd Fighter-Interceptor Squadron on patrol, they’re the closest to the contacts, 400 kilometers to their north. And the 844th is 50 kilometers to the northeast of the 843rd.

“Right, vector them in towards the contacts. Also, get ahold of the Fenmaark and Sørvest FICOM centers, actually, scratch that. Get a hold of FICOM HQ as well, alert them of our situation.”

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

Chevrokian Republic Air Force Fighter Command (FICOM)
50 km S of Duntovostok, Chevrokia Proper

Radio and radar signals intercepts from Skytop surveillance indicate twenty four possible inbound bogies. Location reported as 700 kilometers due west of Petersburg, course due east. Altitude Angels 32, speed 560 knots. Tentative identification based on SIGINT as Aquila-II fighters. Have suspicions about their intentions with regard to our overall defense, possibility they are part of a diversion. Vectoring in 843rd and 844th FIS to investigate and engage, if necessary. Have altered Fenmaark and Sørvest FICOM centers to be ready for possible enemy attack.

General Charles Ofdensen, commanding officer of Chevrokian Fighter Command, frowned as he heard the report. ‘What exactly did they mean by a possible diversion? It was either a diversion or wasn’t,’ the General thought.

“Do we have any other potential hostiles inbound,” Ofdensen said, speaking to nobody specific but expecting one of the controllers in the FICOM headquarters to give him an answer.

“Not around the mainland, sir. Only hits we’ve got are those twenty four suspected Aqulia-IIs.”

“What are the Fenmaark and Sørvest centers doing?”

“They’ve each readying another three squadrons for launch, and they’ve alerted any of their aircraft already airborne of the situation.”

“Well we can’t have just the western districts doing that,” Ofdensen said. “If this is a diversion, we need all of our districts ready. Have the other FICOM centers do the same.”

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

F/A-77A “High Roller”
843rd Fighter-Interceptor Squadron
800 km ENE of Petersburg, Chevrokia Proper

Patrolling in the dead of night outside of the Chevrokian coastal ADIZ, the 843rd Fighter Interceptor Squadron’s twelve Kovas moved with relatively little noise; no exterior lights on, cruising subsonic with their ALRQ/R75 radar sets operating in a low power setting, passively scanning the sky for any threats. The squadron was broken up in three flights of four planes, separated from each other by several kilometers. And although Skytop surveillance intended to inform the squadron of the incoming contacts, they knew about it before the message was sent.

In the back seat of the squadron’s leader High Roller, the RSO Captain Jacob Lindse had also intercepted the emissions of the intruders.

“Hay Kurtz. I’ve got radio and radar emission intercepts here. Position roughly 400 kilometers to our south. Recognition system is telling me that they match up with the electronic emissions of an Aquila-II.”

“Wait what?” the pilot, Captain Kristian Kurtz said, surprised at this information. “Aquila-IIs you say?”

“Yah, Kurtz. And the text messages I’m getting from the rest of the squadron over the ACQ match up with this.”

“Anything else about it?”

“Well … more of a fix on their track. Heading due east, zero-nine-zero. Altitude Angels 32, speed 560 knots. Also, this seems rather unusual to me. They’ve got their radars set to active.”

“They’re giving away their stealth, what’s wrong with them?” Kurtz thought. “And where they hell did they come from?” He grumbled. “Nevermind that, I imagine we should figure out ourselves just what the hell they are up to.”

“Say Kurtz, we’ve got an urgent text message from Skytop surveillance coming in over the ACQ.”

“Transfer it to my display, Jacob.” Kurtz read the message on the secondary multifunction display on his panel.

Radio and radar signals intercepts from Skytop surveillance indicate twenty four possible inbound bogies. Location reported as 700 kilometers due west of Petersburg, course due east. Altitude Angels 32, speed 560 knots. Tentative identification based on SIGINT as Aquila-II fighters. Have suspicions about their intentions with regard to our overall defense, possibility they are part of a diversion. 843rd FIS is ordered to redirect towards their position, turn to course 120, 844th FIS also being redirected to this position for reinforcement.

Kurtz laughed and shook his head. “It’s just like those AWACS guys to tell us information we already know. Gotta love these electronics suites in the Kovas, though. Maybe one day they’ll think to save money and just stick an ALRQ/R75 in an AWACS and call it a day.”

Lindse also laughed briefly. “Well look on the bright side, at least now we have specific orders.”

“Right then, let’s get on with it,” Kurtz said, as he racked the F/A-77 into a tight left turn to the new course and throttled up, accelerating the fighter to its supercruising speed, with the rest of the squadron following.

Carrier Fighter Squadron Sixty-Seven – Somewhere West of Chevrokia

Radar services officer Captain Oleg Bortzov glanced at the screen listing the radar returns. So far, all was quiet, and that was expected. He brought up a few more screens, checking and double checking various systems, re-reading the mission profile, and continuously adjusting the level of dim on the LCD panels. He brought his gloved hand up and leaned forward in his seat, grazing the tip of his finger on his pilot’s helmet. “Wasting time is a bitch, isn’t it?”

Lieutenant Commander Anatoli Kornukov grunted, “Yeah, yeah it is.” He added, “Flying with my hands stuck in my pants gets pretty old too…” as a slant towards the aircraft’s adept autopilot. The flight commander had little to do as the pilot during this regime of the flight, focusing instead on keeping a watchful eye on the aircraft’s utility and monitoring system and anything the ALRQ/R75 happened to catch a glimpse of. He wouldn’t say it, but he couldn’t wait until he could flex the F/A-77Ns muscles in real air-to-air dancing. Unfortunately, as far as he was concerned, the only maneuvering in this mission would be turning tail and fleeing, something he didn’t particularly take a liking too. That is, of course, if everything proceeded according to plan. He held out hope though, and he probably shouldn’t have in the concern of his fellow pilots and RSOs, that it wouldn’t.

Captain Bortzov chuckled over the mic, “Well, Commander, you know what time it is?” The captain didn’t offer him enough time to respond before stating, “Time for an old Armed Republic tradition.”

Lt. Cmdr. Kornukov rolled his eyes, which happened to be comically represented by the chevron in Bortzov’s helmet-mounted cuing system making an arc over the top half of the screen, “Jesus Christ Oleg, don’t tell me you actually brought some.”

“Hey, don’t roll your eyes at-“, he was cut off.

“Seniority, Captain.”

“Right, check your personal storage.”

Kornukov dropped his head and reached with his right hand to the small space off the right side of his seat nestled against the fuselage. The space was normally reserved for anything the crew might need on hand whether it be paper documents, personal items, sidearms, or anything else. However, in the space where he normally left his SP221 pistol he instead found a paper bag with a bottle in it. The Lieutenant Commander keyed his mic, “Oh for fuck’s sake, Oleg, the last time I did this was when I was six months out of flight school.” Those were back in his young-and-dumb days. He still couldn’t help but smile as he lifted the bottle of whiskey from its berth. “You know, I really do like this stuff, but on a mission?”

“Tradition, sir. For all those who came before us, we follow in their footsteps.”

“God damn, Oleg, I knew you were old-school, but not that old school. And it’s a glass bottle you dipshit, imagine if we would’ve had to pull some maneuvers with that thing laying down there.” Lieutenant Commander Kornukov knew the drill, and it was true, it was time to honor an age-old tradition in the Air Force of the Armed Republic and Naval Air Forces that dated all the way back to the war in Buechoria. That war was notable in this Armed Republic’s military history as having an incredibly atrocious air-to-air loss rate due to the limited number of AFAR/NAF aircraft against a numerically superior enemy. The hefty loss rate combined with Soviet Bloc’s relative infatuation with alcohol resulted in the pilots at the time smuggling alcohol aboard their aircraft prior to missions so that the group could enjoy a final drink together. It originally began as a highly deplored practice by the higher-ups however gained acceptance due to the morale boost it created. For a brief period of time, the practice spread to all flight operations, however it was soon reduced to combat-only missions which became frequently few and far between as time progressed to the current day.

Lt. Cmdr. Kornukov, who was old enough to have flown a handful of combat missions over Buechoria and took part in the practice in his formative years, brought up the intra-flight communications screen and typed in a message to his squadron and the accompanying squadron: “Tradition time. May we enjoy a drink together in the only place we feel at home.” He pulled his mask free and took a deep breath of the relatively stale cockpit air before removing the bottle of whiskey from its makeshift packaging. With a twist of his left hand, the cap came off. “Bottom’s up.” He put the mouth of the bottle to his and took a sizeable pull from the glass bottle. The burning sensation hadn’t left his throat before he had the cap back on and had passed it with all of his reach to the backseater, who eagerly took a longer pull. The same scene was being roughly repeated across the twenty-three other aircraft in the combined fleet. Except in F/A-77N #836 “Splitting Facecards”, where the pilot and RSO got in a pissing match because the RSO stashed light beer instead of the requisite liquor. Grudgingly, the two finally agreed to a drink in the spirit of camaraderie.

“That hit the fuckin’ spot, Commander. Whoa. Yeah.” Captain Bortzov capped the bottle and tucked it into his own personal space, making sure to securely close the container to prevent the bottle from flying around the cabin and breaking his neck if Kornukov felt like getting frisky with the control stick. Alright, back to business, Bortzov began scanning his mission screens.

Several minutes passed, and just as the effects of the light amount liquor were beginning to manifest, his ALRQ/R75 and every other member’s of the flight set discovered the same. Bortzov instantly galvanized, excitedly repeating, “Hostile contacts inbound. Bearing two-seven-five on intercept pattern. We’ve got four. Make that six. No. Twelve contacts.”

Kornukov perked up, instinctively grasping the control stick and throttle and readjusting himself in the seat. “Identification? Range?”

“No resolution, they’re right on the fringe of our detection range with the current set-up. Really hazy. Range is three-hundred thirty-five give or take. All aircraft confirming.” The composite radar image provided data from all other members of the flight.

“Only twelve?”

“Only twelve.”

Lieutenant Commander Kornukov winced, “Shit, something’s up. Are you sure, only twelve? Are there more behind?”

“Not that me, or any other RSO, can determine. We’ve got more range behind the contacts but nothing’s showing up, nor from any other bearing.” Bortzov was thinking the same thing as the Kornukov, “If it’s any clue sir, we’re not picking up any passive radiation, so they know we’re here. Probably picked up our own radiation.” His own hopes dimmed, “Didn’t fall for the bait, sir.”

Kornukov glanced at the mission profile screen and ruled out the chance they had fallen behind or crept ahead of schedule which would’ve meant both the bombers had already arrived and the Chevrokians knew what was up or that they had overflown their intended turn-around point. As the senior member of the flight, Kornukov had sole discretion of command in emergency situations, and as far as he was concerned, this was an emergency situation. Inside though, he had waited for this moment. “Oleg, on my mark, I want you to send all our data and a request for some guys with buddy stores at our designated catch point. We’ll need them.” He sent a flash message over the intraflight communications making the rest of the flight aware of his intended actions before he took command of the aircraft from the autopilot and swung out of formation, re-orienting himself due west. “Mark.”

Captain Bortzov took manual control of the ALRQ/R75 and reverted to its factory settings before selecting an optimized setting for long-range data transmission which automatically adjusted the waveguides, power setting, and band interference selection. The ALRQ/R75 lit up with all its power and at the speed of light an encrypted data burst was repeatedly sent back towards the RNS Chlevenkov or her airborne radar assets/fleet air cover to be recovered. Quickly, Bortzov switched back to the settings he had previously entered, and when the notice appeared on the Lt. Commander’s mission profile screen, Kornukov swung the Kovas back on its easterly heading and accelerated to rejoin formation.

Kornukov studied the radar returns. This operation hinged on the necessity of attracting a sizeable portion of Chevrokia’s aircraft into at least reducing the number of aircraft available to defend their own skies. Twelve aircraft was not a sizeable portion of their available aircraft. Kornukov had three options: abort, continue as planned and let the bombers sort it out, or take the initiative and engage, forcing the Chevrokians to bring up more aircraft. He had spent far too long flying in peacetime to take the easy way out, so he began formulating his plan.

Using the intraflight communications system, Lt. Commander Kornukov alerted six aircraft to tie their ALRQ/R75s to six other aircraft. The RSOs were instructed to switch their auxiliary AESA and EW arrays, positioned in the chines of the aircraft, wingtips, and vertical stabilizers, to operate on the same frequency as the Aquila II’s whereas they previously laid dormant. The auxiliary sets would then direct their beams towards the incoming aircraft simulating a higher power rating than they actually had. The other six aircraft were to then turn their ALRQ/R75s completely silent. The passing off of these functions was computer coordinated to ensure that no noticeable “blip” would be created by the sudden lack of six operating radars. The six aircraft operating with all their radar sets operating would space out over the space previously occupied by the twelve aircraft total while the six silent birds would drift back out of formation. The Chevrokian aircraft, operating primarily in their passive detection mode, would still pick up the twenty four independent signatures, albeit six would be mysteriously “dimmed” due to their reduced power output capability compared to the primary ALRQ/R75 set. However, this could be explained by those specific six aircraft as using their radars, temporarily, for data-transmission purposes which would have a similar effect, or had their radars specifically tuned for a different function such as scanning a separate piece of the sky or velocity search, etc. In case the group was under the watchful eye of an airborne radar platform, the six double-duty F/A-77Ns opened their armament bay doors [capable due to the lax cruise speed they were currently operating at], sizeabling increasing their signature and continuing the fuzzy image that there were twenty-four aircraft in the group, at least to the long-distance, low-resolution of an airborne radar and control aircraft. This action was taken as a precaution, largely because it didn't affect their chances with the incoming hostiles who were, as far as the flight knew, operating silently.

The six silent F/A-77Ns gained altitude, topping at about 65,000 feet before circling back towards the west maintaining a steady cruise, intending to arc around to the west to get into an intercept flanking position on the twelve unidentified aircraft, presumably Chevrokians.

The remaining aircraft began priming their electronic warfare systems. In an intra-flight text message, Lieutenant Commander Kornukov warned, “Once their radar’s go hot, we go hot. Hold nothing back. Standard half-and-half doctrine, half of us provides electronic and radar support, the other half provides the munitions, passing off after medium range stocks have been expended. Munitions are under collective use.” A data packet accompanied the text with various instructions, recommendations, pass-off order, and other data.

In this stage of the game, the air battle would have to be quick and decisive. Carrier Fighter Squadron Sixty-Seven’s and Carrier Fighter Squadron Fifty-Eight’s aircraft didn’t have enough fuel or armament to fight for more than a couple minutes before being forced to turn around and make speed for the designated refueling point where they would be met by either carrier-borne light tanker aircraft or fighters with buddy stores. Both groups of fighters would be presumably operating in their gray zones, the edges of their combat ranges, although it was a fair bet that the Chevrokian aircraft had more munitions to go around than the four missiles [two short range, two medium range] carried by the F/A-77N, although it would be roughly even considering the Armed Republic aircraft, at least at the moment, outnumbered the Chevrokians two-to-one and in a sense had the element of surprise. This would change, however, when the other twelve Chevrokian aircraft came within range.

OOC: To make things simpler for all involved, this is a copy-paste from another thread that I started for the Kargucagstan/Krendakov/Clandonia theater.

IC:

Kargucagstan-Krendakov Border
June 20th

Field Marshall Bacchus Balthasar, recently promoted following the Mediterranican crisis, stood immobile atop Mt. Stygian, the highest peak in the range that bore its name. Behind him lay the barren rock of the foothills, and in front a sharp drop down to the heat-baked prairies of Krendakov. A single engine civilian aircraft could just be seen on the horizon, rays of the noonday sun glinting off of its polished wings.

“Field Marshall, we are ready to move out.” The messenger passed a data slate to his commander, containing the exact permissions needed to confirm the go-ahead. The officer nodded and adjusted the brim of his cap.

“Very well. Signal the men forward.”

“Sir, right away.” A gust of chill wind swept overhead as the lone civilian airplane was joined by the darting white shapes of the first Fascist aircraft to cross into Krendakov’s airspace, columns of dust rising from the treads of armored columns in the passes far below.

War room of the Headquarters of the Kargucagstani New People’s Party

“Generals, we have received word that our forces are moving into Krendakov as we speak.”

“Excellent,” grinned General Chrysander Alexis as he leaned over the digital map. The red icons representing Conglomerate forces on the map began to move, slowly, as the view was quite pulled back. “Gentlemen,” said Alexis as he motioned towards the map, “as you are doubtless all aware, we have been gradually mobilizing our forces over the past several months in preparation of assaulting Krendakov, amassing a sizeable portion of our potential active military along our shared border. Now, this conflict between the Doomani’s and the Questerians is the perfect excuse for us to move. But why stop there? If we can blitz over Krendakov, divide and conquer, we can make it to the borders of Clandonia in a month or less, for while we are temporarily without the aid of our Nukewealth allies, certain other powers with significantly less scruples are willing to assist us.”

“Such as?” queried Lieutenant General Lykurgaus.

“Thuch az Nuvehcom,” replied the stranger in the room. All of the other men knew each other, but the identity of this last addition to the cabal was unknown. At least until now.

“This is Senvhacanian Tikrenias Vorenzai, representing the government of Novacom.” Greetings and pleasantries were exchanged briefly before the conversation resumed. “Mr. Vorenzai here is with us today to discuss possible reinforcements from his state. Mr. Vorenzai, you have our attention.”

‘Zank yu, Shenerel Elexis.” The Novan clapped him on the shoulder and turned to face the assembled military minds. “I uill be blief. Novacom hathes Clandonia and havs bean luking to atthack it for quite some time. This is ze perfect oppartunety. We are willing to match yur deployment mhan for mhan, plaune for plaune, tahnk for tahnk, guan for guan. If yu march to Warminster then we will be there. If yu should stumble, we will hold the line. In other words,” he paused, “we are here to assist.”

The room was quiet as the men mulled over this information. Finally one of the generals expressed his nation’s thanks and reached for the intercom. The Kyrios must be informed that all was going well. The meeting broke up with cheers of, “To Warminster!”

Media room of the Headquarters of the Kargucagstani New People’s Party

Michael Allen Delphi brushed off his wool greatcoat and adjusted his somber navy tie. He had just got off the phone with his war room and was pleased to discover that little of his pre-prepared speech had to be altered. The lights shone directly in his eyes, but he didn’t flinch. Decades of rule had given him a steel glare and an iron jaw, his craggy features immune to the unyielding eye of the press. The man behind the camera was signaling the countdown until the broadcast began. He held up five fingers, four. Michael stared unflinchingly into the lens, hands placed on the podium sides. Two, one, rolling. “People of the Neo-Fascist Conglomerate of Kargucagstan,” he began, “I bring to you tonight grave words.”

“As of one hour ago, the forces of our Great State began to move against the powerless Communist oppressor on our border. It is not with fear that I say this, no, it is with pride, for I have walked among you for the entirety of my life and I have seen the true mettle of your souls tested, and proven, time and time again! We have faced the onslaught of the world and prevailed, and now it is time to do it once more!” He paused for effect, his fists clenched on the edges of the podium, knuckles white.

“The people of Krendakov will thank us for our valiant sacrifices in the coming weeks and months, for there will be sacrifices, but already our troops are greeted with warmth by the border communities, so long under the thumb of the Godless left. In this time of change we must remember that faith in the State is the only guaranteed means of safety. It is not the timid or the weak that make history, but the strong and the brave, those willing to brace themselves against the tides of evil and, with a flame in their hearts and a song on their lips, to push back, to press the darkness from the realm. It is this sacred task that we do today.”

“This is not, as some would have you believe, a war between pro-slavery forces and those opposed to them. Rather, this is a struggle over the right to rule, whether power belongs with the man in the street or the trained leader. The choice is clear. Some do not see it the way we do, however. Members of our own alliance, the Nuclear Commonwealth, have or will side with the Marxists of Questers, and to these I have a message: The people of Kargucagstan will not force you to change your views, but rather allow you to see the error of your ways in your own time. Those that backstab us, however, we will strike, we will rend. We will march on their farms. We will march on their cities. We will march on their capital. We will march on their graves.” Michael placed great emphasis on this last word, letting it loll off of his pallid tongue, dripping with contempt. “The boots of our men will crush the purposeless ones as we strive to unite our peoples together, just as we are meant to be.” He straightened his back for dramatic effect before once again speaking.

“I will not speak for long, as I know you lead busy lives. Who doesn’t, in these times? But if you remember nothing from this speech but what I am about to say, that will suffice: Have faith in the State, for the State is all that stands between chaos and order. Thank you.” The lights shut off, the room filled with applause, and a smile crept its way across the craggy face of the most powerful man in a country of giants.

http://i174.photobucket.com/albums/w107/imdmill/derzeitung.png

Kargucagstani Assets Frozen

http://i174.photobucket.com/albums/w107/imdmill/RP%20images/kargucismarch.png
Kargucagstani soldiers march through the streets en route to Krendakov

KAMPFERS STADT - Following Kargucagstan's declaration of war on Krendakov, Kampfers has issued a multitude of sanctions upon the nation. Minister of the Treasury Thomas Hofmann said that Kampfers would be applying her own sanctions, but would be pushing Haven to impose sanctions on Kargucagstan, including freezing all financial assets. Hofmann said that Kampfers "will take any necessary action so that Kargucagstan is aware of the choice it has to make — to continue an unprovoked and unwarranted invasion, or face further isolation and eventual destruction." Hofmann said he will press Havenic colleagues, especially friendly nations within the Kingston Pact and within the Nuclear Commonwealth this week to enact a tough package of sanctions against Kargucagstan, including the freezing of their financial assets.

Kampferian officials are hopeful that their sanctions, coupled with sanctions from other Havenic nations, will force the Kargucagstani regime to rethink their current foreign policy, or at least step back their aggressive foreign policy. The government-sponsored bank of Kargucagstan, Kargucagstan National Savings and Loan Corporation, holds an estimated 12 billion Kampferian Marks worth of investments in a multitude of banks throughout Kampfers.

Even more noteworthy, however, was the complete impounding of all the Kargucagstani investment into the highly secretive Nukefighter project. Sources estimate that Kargucagstan's total investment in the project ranged from 2 trillion dollars to 5 trillion dollars, and it is well known that they paid a 500 billion dollar initial contribution to join the project. The Nukefighter project, who's development costs were ballooning at the time of Kargucagstan's involvement, has actually produced a number of working prototypes for acid-testing. While the number of prototypes remains unknown, it was assumed that they would be distributed evenly Nuclear Commonwealth members during the so-called "War on Slavery." After today's sanctions, however, it has been announced that only Kampfers, Akimonad, Aequatio, and The Silver Sky would be receiving said planes.

Hofmann summed up the sanctions perfectly, when he stated "The Kargucagstani's have a sovereign right to their own nation, sure. They do not, however, have a sovereign right to assault a neutral nation, simply because they stand between them and an enemy. Let Kargucagstan take these sanctions as a warning of possible future action by Kampfers, and many other nations within Haven."

THIS IS A BREAKING NEWS UPDATE. Check back soon for further information.

OOC: Copied as requested \m/

GENERAL POST OFFICE 20/6/346 - BELGRAVIA PALACE TO URBUS DOOMANUS

Dearest Maxy,

I received your telegram of the 13th and read with great interest. I am pleased to hear that my Sister is well, and that our Family's prosperity grows in Doomingsland as everywhere day by day.

I am aware that our correspondance has suffered greatly over the past month, as a result of my Tour of South Haven, and I fear that this is set to continue. In the past 24 hours I have dissolved Parliament and called a General Election to replace it, and the affairs of State are always by far the most pressing at such times. There is great change afoot in Praetonia and I am sure that it will impact upon us all in some way, though precisely how is as yet unclear. I fear it is possible that the friendship that has propsered between our two great monarchies since my father's reign may soon come under quite considerable pressure.

It is widely spoken that the Liberals will throw the Tories out of office, and they have made no secret of their intention to replace 'pragmatism' with liberal fervour. The public seem to take to such notions far more readily while the borders of the Realm are secure than while they are not. The dislocation of what is expected from realms to whose friendship Parliament will consent from the reality of Doomani slave ships passing through the Channel may become too great even for many of those who would ordinarily wish to preserve the bonds of affection and loyalty that were built up in the great struggle against Dreadfire.

Whatever providence delivers the Crown Commonwealth, and I fervently hope that it delivers us from the dark shadow of renewed conflict, I shall be occupied for several days with the opening of Parliament and the appointment of a new Government. If we are not able to converse in that time, I offer you my most sincere apologies.

By way of compensation, I have ordered a rather fine helmet be dispatched to Doomingsland. It is of the 'pith' pattern and of a quite majestic ivory construction. It is one of a set of three that was given to me by the High Commissioner to Praetonian South Haven. I believe that the third shall go to Cousin Alex, to complete our Triumvirate. I am aware that he is something of an excitable chap, like most of the Questerian branch, but he is an honourable man at heart. I submit the matter to your consideration.

Until we meet again (I do trust you will be able to attend my Fleet Review in the Autumn?) I pray, as ever, that Providence preserve and protect you and your realm.

Kindest regards,

Georgie.



25/6/346, House of Commons
Kingston

"Mr Speaker!"

The House descended into uproar. The remarks were not in themselves incendiary, but they were spoken by the first Liberal Party Prime Minister Praetonia had had in more than two decades, and the House felt it necessary to mark the occassion with cheers of adulations or cries of shame, depending on where they sat.

"Mr Speaker!"

Only the handful of lip-readers in the Commons discerned the words. The Prime Minister threw up his hands in mock surrender to the will of the riotous MPs.

"Order! Order!" The Speaker's voice became briefly audible. The Commons calmed slightly, and the din quietened. They wanted to savour the drama.

"Mr Speaker!" The Prime Minister declared, as though to get the words out was alone to announce some great triumph, "Mr Speaker!

"For a decade or more, our great Commonwealth has been engaged in a bitter struggle with the Tyrant Dreadfire and his foreign puppets. This struggle had become so grave a consideration in our politics that we allowed ourselves insensibly to abandon the moral position upon which we stood -" cries of 'no!' from the Liberal-Tory benches, "- and - Mr Speaker, if I may be allowed to speak without interruption? - to allow ourselves to 'cut a deal with the devil' -" more shouts from the Liberal-Tories, rejoined by cries of 'shame!' from the Liberals - "That struggle is now over.

"The question of whether this country has conducted her affairs in the most ideal manner is one that has left us bitterly divided. For better or worse, the Commonwealth chose to risk a little 'temporary injustice' in order to preserve what we have built, and prevail against a foe possibly too great to otherwise overcome. But the world which demanded it be asked has suddenly and spectacularly collapsed.

"If the Tyrant were to travel to the coast of his home country, and look for the nearest foreign shore to his own, he would find that where once the apparatus of bureaucracy and repression held a grey and subdued Aequatio in its thrall, the beacon-fires of liberty have been lit. They can never be extinguished. If he looks to his former allies further afield, and calls particularly upon those once decried in this chamber as 'quisling states' - free peoples who, for reasons we could not grasp, stood against us and our way of life - he will find that they have abandoned his standard, and flocked to ours.

"We have left an often dreary, sometimes terrifying world of Great Power politics seperated from any notion of what is good or just, and re-entered the world that died with the collapse of the Sovereign League - a world of principle. And we are beginning to see that just as many states which opposed us in the Great Power stakes stand side-by-side with us now on points of principle, some states to which we pledged our allegiance, and for which much warm feeling still exists in this country, are wholly and implacably opposed to everything in which we believe.

"In Doomingsland, a citizen may buy and sell his fellow man, many captured in wars of conquest against free states such as Kahanistan. Where the Questerian Commonwealth seeked only to control militarily important sectors of the coast, Doomingsland engaged in a campaign of wholesale destruction. How can the Commonwealth claim to be a defender of individual liberty, whilst allowing slave-ships to pass unmolested through the Channel and into the Fyre Sea? How can the free world, possessed of the mightiest navies on earth, stand aside as the rankest injustice is flaunted before our eyes?" The jeers from the opposition benches began to rise again,

"Are their slaves not men and brothers? Are we not bound by sacred duty to spread, in proportion to our might, the proper justice that should come to those who pursue their ends by brutality and force, abroad as at home?

"Mr Speaker, there are those sitting here in this House who would still see us allied with such monsters. Who would see our splendid navies, built and crewed by free men, pressed into the defence of slave ships and oppression. Mr Speaker, in this place. The place where our forebearers decided that regicide was the only sensible course to take when faced with a dynasty that would see all of us still as its serfs, to be ground between the millstones of taxation and conscription until the end of time. What else but that do we see in Doomingsland? What else but that!"

The shouts and cries of the MPs on both sides of the House had risen to a new creshendo, and the Speaker required some time to restore order for a second time.

"Mr Speaker, it was said in the past that without Doomingsland we could not defeat Automagfreek, her allies, and her puppets in NATO. That to defend liberty, we had to ourselves survive, and that as liberty's enemies were mighty, it was preferable to side with a lesser evil against a greater one, than to fall to both combined. I have never accepted this defeated doctrine. But to suppose for a moment that it is true, is it the world that we live in today? I contend, Mr Speaker, that Automagfreek is a spent force. Those countries her warlords were once able to wield against us have either faded from view, or moved to our side, where they belong.

"It shall be the policy of this government, and, God willing, those that follow it, never to engage, for the sake of simple expediency, in any entangling alliance with an unfree state. The method by which its governments are chosen is not important, but the actions of those governments are. Where a state is of such manifest evil, as Doomingsland must surely rank alongside Automagfreek in being -" a smaller, quieter protest still effused from the Liberal-Tory benches, "direct and appropriate action must be taken to remedy the situation.

"That is why, Mr Speaker, His Majesty has, upon my advice, instructed that a detatchment of the South Haven Fleet be moved to support anti-slavery operations undertaken with recent success by the Questerian Navy, under the command of Admiral Wilbur, to be named 'Wilbur Force'. Furthermore, the Fyre Sea is declared in its entirety to be a Tyranny Exclusion Zone, and any slave ship that navigates it makes itself liable for seizure.

"I submit, Mr Speaker, that the air of Haven has long been too pure for a slave, and every man will be free who breathes it."


His Majesty's Foreign Office
Official Statement & Protest

http://www.number10.gov.uk/files/images/Crest.jpg

His Majesty's Government is disturbed and alarmed by the recent mobilisation of large numbers of troops by the Neo-Fascist Conglomerate of Kargucagstan against Krendakov. While His Majesty does not care for the repressive communist regime that resides in Krendakov, the peace and stability of the Continent, as well as the security of the borders of the Georgian League Realms is of paramount importance.

His Majest seeks assurances that the forces of Kargucagstan will not advance beyond the following demarkated 'Line of No Return,' and hereby issues a guarantee of territorial integrity beyond that point:

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v387/Praetonia/pointofnoreturn.png

If Kargucagstan is merely interested in the removal of a communist regime, the Georgian League would be willing and able to provide tangible assistance.

His Majesty must insist, however, that if Kargucagstani forces press eastwards across the previously indicated line, a state of war will exist between His Majesty and the Neo-Fascist Conglomerate.

God Save the King.


[OOC: Still need to reply to Cotland's ship thing and Kstan, and post about the situation in Praetonian South Haven. But, this post is already huge and I'm getting fed up with it.]

June 23

The State-controlled media was quick to pounce on the declaration of condemnation from Kampfers. Much type was devoted to the apparent hypocrisy of the Germanic government. “It is of note,” wrote The Fascist Tribune, “that at no point did Kampfers object to the invasion plans that the Nuclear Commonwealth had drawn up for Krendakov, and only raised its voice once it was clear that Kampfers would receive no cut of the spoils.” Michael Allen Delphi, however, was simply amused.

The Kyrios sat in his official state car as they drove through the streets of City 1. Traffic in the city of 22 million parted in front of the military convoy escorting their leader, leaving the limosene in a bubble of calm. “Karl,” he said, “draft a letter for me, please.” Karl von Salza, the personal assistant that Michael had inherited from his late father, Adrian, deftly pulled a slick black data slate from his suit jacket and, withdrawing the stylus, prepared to take dictation. The convoy was passing by the Old Town of City 1. When Adrian had reconquered Kargucagstan following a lengthy exile it had been through the use of dirty nuclear “suitcase bombs” hidden in the city. Old Town was what they called the remnants that were left after the revolution. Now the deserted streets were blocked off by barricades and patrolled by soldiers, but one could occasionally catch a glimpse of the old city through a chink in the plywood or over the head of a guard.

“His Excellency Fuhrer Erich Richtoff of The Neo-Prussian Parliamentary Dictatorship of Kampfers comma I have just been informed of your country’s sanctions against mine and I cannot express my sorrow period To see a nation that I once embraced as my brother turn against us is difficult to bear comma but I know that times of war can drive a wedge between even the closest of allies period It is only my hope that you could reconsider your actions and comma perhaps comma learn to welcome the Kargucagstani into your proverbial home once again period Hoping this finds you in good health comma signed Kyrios Michael Allen Delphi of the Neo-Fascist Conglomerate of Kargucagstan period.” Nodding in approval, he motioned for it the letter to be digitally transferred to the Fuhrer. Michael didn’t expect anything to come of it, of course, especially since rumor had it that Kampfer’s leader was indisposed for a lengthy period of time, but at least he tried.

Stretching his aching hand, Karl set aside the writing implements and turned to Michael. “What of the announcement by the Praetonians? It is fairly certain that it carries with it the wishes of the whole KGP.” The kyrios rubbed his clean chin idly, staring into space.

“They’ve threatened us before,” he said, “and nothing has come of it.” Karl looked annoyed.

“But this time there are more forces at work. You know this, Michael.”

“Indeed I do. Very well, you have been my voice of caution in the past. Mobilize additional forces and have them sent to the front lines. Also… write up something diplomatic to send to the Questerian camp. Thank them for the offer of assistence but insist on our right to carry out this mission.”

“Your wish,” the slender advisor mused. The arches of the headquarters building cast a dark shadow over the car as they slipped by overhead.

“Well, another day, another war, eh Karl?”

“Right you are, Kyrios.”

Press release from the Kargucagstani New People’s Party

While the offer of assistence from the Crown Commonwealth is more than appreciated by the government of Kargucagstan, we would like to stress the importance of this operation remaining a strictly Kargucagstani affair. The Kingston Pact has already shown its predeliction to imposing itself and its values on other nations, vis-a-vis the capture and execution of an Imperial Doomani merchant ship, and the generally hostile tone of the “offer” lends further credence to the sense of suspicion that we feel at this time. If Praetonia is genuinely concerned with the struggle against Communism in Haven, perhaps this could be shown by actions against another member of the United Socialist Republics?

Frontlines, western Krendakov

A great cheer rose from the battered Kargucagstanis as the last of the Krendians fell to concentrated rifle fire. The reds had been chased from the streets, pushed back under the brunt of the Fascist assault. The town was theirs, and while it was not important in a strategic sense, every small victory was a morale boost. Most of the city center had been demolished, but the bulk of captured arms and food more than compensated. Spirits were lifted even further by news of the arrival of the first shipments of Doomani aid, namely bulk quantities of the AVIR, numerous Havenfighters and B-22s. While it would be some weeks before the aircraft could be fully assembled and crews trained to at least a passable level, the small arms were rumored to be onboard freight trains at that very moment. It would be good to have something a little higher quality than the AK-103.

Kargucagstan had pushed into northern Krendakov a good distance in less than a week, capturing much of the area between Kargucagstan and No Endorse while the Communists were still reeling with surprise. The “red line,” as the generals had taken to calling the KGP ultimatum, was rapidly approaching, and beyond that it was anyone’s game. Satisfied with their current progress and timetables, orders came down from high command to find the most defensible position available and to dig in. Novan reinforcements would be arriving in Kargucagstan within days, and heavy bomber raids could be carried out while the halt was in effect.

It was, thus far, a satisfying campaign.

"You... do not... insult my mother like that.” - breathed Xenia Reynes.

It was one of those terrible arguments that sometimes erupted at press-conferences of Allanean politicians. In this case, it was a press-conference for George Wallach, an otherwise unknown Republican Senator from Allanean Oklahoma, who had, in one of the Senate debates about the new was, called Antalia Reynes, Xenia's mother, a “traitor to freedom' for opposing the war. Now Xenia was here, and the petite girl was flushed red with anger.

"Oh... I see..” - sneered the Oklahoman - “So tell me now... little girl... are you here as a journalist, or as a campaign flunky for your Mom?”

Xenia struggled to breathe, but the traditional formula came easy to her. - “I am here as a Free woman in a Free country. I challenge you to a duel, as is the right of all Freemen. I will send to you my seconds.”

Amazingly – and against the advice of his staff – the Senator agreed.

* * * *

And so now, they were standing against each other on a meadow in Heston Park, fifteen meters apart. Each of them held a semi-automatic pistol and a knife – for the Senator, a Glock 40 and a M.O.D. Folder, and for Xenia – a light Equinox and a full-sized Army bayonet-knife.

One of the seconds stood between the opponents, holding a white handkerchief in his extended hand. He waved it sharply, letting go of it at the end of the motion, letting it fall to the ground as he jumped out of the line of fire. “GO!”

And they went. The Senator rushed forward, firing the pistol in front of him as he went. He fired wildly, the jacketed hollow point rounds tearing up the grass behind Xenia.

Her hand was shaking as she caught him in the sights of the pistol. She had never killed a man before, and, truth be told, she was not prepared to start now.

Then he was five meters away. She pulled the trigger.

She was surprised that she did not miss, a large red rose blossoming on the Senator's white shirt. She did not pull the trigger again.

And then he was upon her, hitting her face with the handle of his pistol. She fell backwards just as he raised his weapon to strike again – and then they were clutching each other, grabbing madly for support, stabbing with their weapons.

Pain exploded across Xenia's torso, her left hand, her face as the Senator stabbed before him with the folder. She raised her giant knife upwards, the tip of the ten-inch Bowie slashing his right hand lengthwise. Some muscle must have been cut – he dropped the Glock, and then she stabbed again and again at his chest, bones cracking.

But the Senator was still holding the folder knife, and he raised it again, stabbing at Xenia, using his entire weight against her. It was her shoulder that was hit – her right shoulder.

Convulsively, without even thinking about it, she pulled the trigger of the Equinox that she was still holding in hand. The Senator screamed as his kneecap disintegrated – and Xenia pulled the trigger again – three times in the space of less than a second. Wallach was tipped off her, blood appearing on his lips as he convulsed, still trying to reach her with the knife – and she stabbed forward with her bayonet-knife, and fell on him. There was a crunch as the knife broke the man's sternum and penetrated into the heart.

And then she fainted, letting the warm blanket of unconsciousness cover her.

* * *


In the meanwhile, the Allanean warships continued patrolling the Strobovian Straits and the Axackal Sea for enemy ships.

[OOC: This is to be edited into my second post as its technically a late addition.

http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13771767&postcount=7]

As Allanea's war fervor grew, so did the activities of the Allanean Republican Army. In the Orange Republic, an Allanean of Sudanese extraction had snuck in to the Governor's mansion during a reception that was being held there for a notable anti-Doomani Congressman, and shot the man at close range twice before being shot thirty-five times by the guests in attendance, and twice more by the state governor himself.

In Liberty-City itself, an Allanean of the age of 17 – later found to have been an ARA member and practicing Doomani catholicism – walked into a recruiting office, claiming to want to sign up for service with the Allanean Army. As a matter of fact, he was about to perform a service to the Doomani Catholic Church, the Emperor Maximus, and the Republican Army. It turned out that his jacket had been filled with commercially-available high explosives and steel ball bearings. It had cost the Allanean Army sixteen potential recruits and two qualified recruiters.

In Heston-City, the Doomani-backed ARA tried to assassinate another Senator, but failed – his wife noticed the glint of the sniper's scope and threw himself in front of the Senator. Before the man had had time to think, a .308 bullet pierced his wife's right lung. She spent the next few months on life support.

Precious few people actually knew what was going on. But the Doomani intelligence services would understand. For it was them who funded and trained the Allanean Republican Army, and they knew that it was this training and money that allowed the Republican Army to survive – and that the ARA depended on this training, and therefore would do the will of the Doomani.

Just as the Allanean Army was preparing for war against the Doomani, the ARA was preparing for war against the Allanean Army. Explosive charges were being prepared. Agents of the organization went through their last training sessions at double pace.

OOC: ARA is a terrorist organization operating in Allanea. Doomingsland supports it with arms, and this post is done after discussion with him and with his agreement.

It is a fundamental truth that a man wants security—for his person, for his posterity, and for his worldly possessions, and, if he is religious, security to his otherworldly destination.
+++So firmly is this fixed into the human nature at the inception of a man's existence, that even when the torch of life flickers low, that desire is not and can never be extinguished. This is singularly the tyrant's worst enemy, and the liberator's greatest strength, for the tyrant cannot successfully fight against his and his people's own natures any more than a lion can desire to eat broccoli, and the liberator, once he has established his own security, cannot turn back from fighting for it. Indeed, it is the oppressor's goal to remove self-made security from his subjects, so that they turn to him for it—and of course he is happy to oblige, if they shouldn't mind going along with a few rules. But when it so happens that the apparatus of bureaucracy keeps expanding to both give a sense of false security from the State, while simultaneously trying to remove dissidents that would threaten the tyrant's long and healthy rule (which of course makes the entire populous unsafe), the people begin to become disillusioned with the central power structure, and turn once more back to the coals burning quietly in their own hearts. A few strokes of the billows—and they are swiftly lit again. So begins the steady crumbling of the Regime.


The dusk in Thornkulle was chilly and damp. Rain drizzled down from the dim sky, running down in rivulets on Barnabas Filipides' poncho. It made shallow puddles and little streams, mixed with oil and fuel, which shone green and purple when the street lights above struck them at the right angle. The stores and restaurants lining each side of the street were dark, closed for the night just before the curfew came into effect. A car passed behind him just as he turned to start walking down the sidewalk, and he tensed reflexively. His hands clenched around the grip of his sidearm in his jacket pocket, waiting for the car to slow. It did not, and turned the corner. Barnabas breathed a shallow sigh of relief. He ducked into a dark alleyway, and knocked thrice upon the weatherbeaten door there. The slot was opened, a shaded light lifted up beside it, and his face examined by a pair of eyes, which retreated after a moment. The slot closed, and the door was opened a crack, spilling a sliver of light out into the darkness. He hurried inside.

[ There's nothing to reply to in this post, but I wanted to get it up to show I'm committing myself to this, and because I figured it was a good stopping point, since I didn't want the post getting too big. ]

War Office, Warminster

The hazy room of the War Office's situation room, some 500 metres beneath the Georgian era building was well protected, its air filtration system designed to filter out harmful chemical, biological and radiological particulates hummed clearing the tobacco smoke from the various Chiefs of Staffs smoking materials. On the table and on the projected wall a map of the so called 'line of no return'. Various representatives of the three sections of the armed forces, Foreign and Commonwealth Office, colonial governor representations from Clandonian holdings along representatives from the various Departments of State. Puffing away on cigars, tobacco and opium the table was littered with maps, unit and mobilisation updates and ship inventories. Laptops and palmtop computers sat beside each official, near the door there was a large table with pots of tea and coffee and plates of biscuits and Clandonian tiffin.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v387/Praetonia/pointofnoreturn.png

"Gentleman, the situation has changed rapidly in the last 24 hours. Kargucagstan has moved against Krendakov in the West, there are already reports going in along with our satellite imaging data of Kargucagstani army units indicate an invasion of our Western neighbour. At this stage we can not pin point that the invasion is tied to the wider situation in Haven and with the war. I suggest we increase our homeland security situation and issue reporting orders for the Home Guard, Territorial Army and the County Militias."

"Sir Robert, this line of no return?"

"My Lord, should Kargucagstan go beyond this point it is my plan along with the rest of the RAF's members of the Imperial Chiefs of Staff to commence a widescale strategic and tactical bombing campaign against all usable infrastructure in Krendakov, to mobilise our strategic rocket regiments and alert our armoured divisions to make border incursions. If Kargucagstan goes further, we will begin to target their assets, our Western frontier cities and military bases would be under threat which is why this situation must meet our utmost priority."

General Melchett on the secure line sighed.

"I regret leading the 16th Air Assault Division to Tristan, they would be more useful with the armour and most importantly attack helicopters and troops."

"Sir Dannat, I trust that Bomber and Fighter Command will be shifting positions, the King and Prime Minster would not want our strategic bomber force to be knocked out so early in the war."

"We must transfer our Coastal Command squadrons and flights to the West from the East, the Home Fleet will provide support with the Fleet Air Arm and Naval Air Stations. As for the bombers, our bomber forces have resumed DEFCON Two status and we have double numbers in the air ensuring that if they are called for we can deploy bomb nuclear and conventional fire-power both in a home or overseas theatre. Our B-22's have arrived in Clandonian South Haven now and are readying for any operations required, as part of our commitment to patrol the Strobovian Strait, the Eider Heavy Anti-Shipping Missile along with regular Lance ASM's will be ample for supporting our Questerian allies to rid the Strait of the Doomani navy."


---


RAF Church Stretton, Clandonian South Haven

The large and relatively new base in the South of Haven was awaiting the new arrivals of the newly formed 1st South Haven Colonial Bomber Station. One hundred B-22 Zeus Strategic Bombers along with two fighter wings of Shrike RAC-201 Shrike Fighter Bombers and appropriate logistical and AWACs support making it the largest Clandonian Royal Air Force deployment outside of Tristan. Twenty thousand personal were now making Church Stretton their home for the time being as munitions were transferred to weapons igloos including the WE.177D variable yield free fall nuclear bombs. Because of the equatorial location of the base along with Tristan it made it an idea launch location for the T-2 'Titan' ASATs that had just been delivered and transferred to the weapons bunkers, ready for the coming war. The multi-million Crown missiles were some of the most expensive and technical in the RAF's arsenal and time was needed to convert them to either their nuclear or conventional payload setup.

Off the coast two fast battleship squadrons remained in the Bay, knowing of the naval forces in the Strob and the likelihood of a major sea battle they awaited along with a submarine squadron to deploy her Sea Trident and Hawk GLAM's onto whatever target they were called upon should the government of Northford call upon Clandonian naval power.


---


Clandonian Virgin Islands, East Haven

Night fell on the tropical islands as the illumination of a rocket launch reflected on the wet and glistening vegetation. Another two Type VII RORSATS or radar observation satellites to monitor sea traffic and combine it with their high gigapixel optical imaging devices. At the downlink station on the Northern island the Air Force Space Command and Communications crew urgently sent the encrypted data to the Admiralty of an incoming naval force from Soviet Bloc, seventy odd ships along with observations and suspected mobilisations sparked at invasion alert on the colonial holding.

The Prime Minister was alerted on his way back from a meeting in Kingston as the the Colonial Governor was awoken and taken to the Air Force base by two Military Policeman, although some one thousand ships could be based at the islands at the moment in time roughly two hundred guarded the sovereignty and liberty of the Crown's Eastern holdings.


---


Official Clandonian Response
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v338/madnukedude/clandoniansmallflag.png
Diplomatic Communique to the Neo-Fascist Conglomerate of Kargucagstan:

His Majesty's Government shows growing concern to your governments deployment and recent incursion into Krendakov. While Krendakov to the West of us is no friend we are concerned for the safety of the continent and the interests of Clandonia and the Royal Georgian League. We continue to seek reassurance that the government of Kargucagsta will not cross the indicated 'Line of No Return' that has been marked and attached to the previous message or the Crown's armed forces will be called upon to defend her interests. Should you continue to ignore the polite request then His Majesty will have no other choice but to declare a state of war between the Imperial Crown Kingdom and the Neo-Fascist Conglomerate of Kargucagstan.

God Save the King


Prime Minister Sir David Sistilin




---


War looms as King orders bombers of Clandonian South Haven

http://www.cjreport.com/files/mainimgs/b_52_3.jpg
RAF B-22 Strategic Bombers arriving in Clandonian South Haven yesterday

From the Warminster City Times
Front Page

The fires of war were fanned yesterday as more military forces were readied at both home and abroad as the first reports of fighting in Eastern Haven between allied Aequatian-Chevrokian and enemy Soviet Bloc aircraft. Elsewhere in Haven reports of engagements between Questerian and Doomani slave shipments with the Clandonian government remaining silent apart from the issuing of a joint ultimatum with Praetonian regarding the incursion into Krendakov by Kargucagstan. Reports on the West indicate increased border security and columns of tanks and armoured vehicles heading West to staging grounds. In the air more bombers arrived in both Tristan and Clandonian South Haven, in Tristan the 16th Air Assault Division is to be joined by the 25th Imperial Marine Expeditionary Brigade in an announcement by the Defence Secretary in Parliament late last night. The government has still made no official statement regarding the Questerian call to war but the announcements and observed commentators are saying that all out war is close and if Kargucagstan does cross the so called 'line of no return' then the country will go to war facing its first threat to the homeland for many decades.

Sparks were flying at the Woolford shipyard as literally dozens of keels were being laid from whatever materials were on hand when the order had come down. Bare hours after the declaration of war was proclaimed by Lord Protector Hutton, a naval officer had arrived at their headquarters. Effective immediately, all unused space was being requisitioned by the Navy "to meet future operational capability requirements." Similar orders had been handed to all other commercial shipyards in Havenite Rosdivan; the Navy's sole shipyard in the theater was of course not in need of such orders.

Furthermore, the commercial orders that had previously occupied the shipyard's employees were now unattended as they started work on the Navy's orders. Over the next few days, many of them would drift back to the commercial orders as they were given a priority and as others were deemed not to have skills useful in the construction of the navy vessels. Steel workers were, for instance, quite useless with the aluminum hulls that the Navy was ordering.

The sums of money involved were enormous. Essentially the Navy had given the various shipyards a blank check that amounted to "We don't care how you do it or how much it costs, simply give us the required vessels as quickly as you can." Engines and electronics were going to be an obvious problem, which was currently being dealt with through a massive international purchasing program, but they would still prove to be the major bottleneck in the program. What all of this money was being spent on could not be mentioned of course. But for the shipyard workers, it was not too hard to figure what. One merely needed to look at a map and then ask what use a high speed aluminum transport would have.

F/A-77A “High Roller”
843rd Fighter-Interceptor Squadron
700 km ENE of Petersburg

The twelve Kovas of the 843rd continued on into the night, in pursuit of the “Aquila-IIs” which had been picked up not long before.

“We’re getting faint radar tracks here, Kurtz. Twenty four contacts, just as before. Still tracking due east, 560 knots. Range 320 kilometers, still too far out to get a positive identification by their radar signatures.”

“Where’s the 844th at, Jacob?” Kurtz asked, rather annoyed.

“They’re 50 kilometers behind us. They swung around past our position when we picked up the inbounds to check and see if there were any more hostiles coming.”

“Damn it they need to get their asses in gear and--”

“Hold on a second,” Kurtz was cut off. “One of the contacts is shifting position. They’ve swung around completely, heading due west. Radar emissions have changed, no longer consistent with an Aq-II. Running recognition … oh for fuck’s sake,” Lindse said. “Kurtz, you aren’t gonna believe this.”

“What, what is it?”

“It’s a fucking Kovas,” Lindse stated rather bluntly.

“WHAT?”

“It’s a fucking Kovas, Kurtz. And it sure as hell isn’t one of ours, they’re not broadcasting any friendly IFF transponder codes. And I have reason to think that those other twenty three contacts are also Kovas. Rest of the squadron is getting the same thing. Data being relayed back to FICOM now. Their emissions have changed again, set has gone to full power, he might be datalinking off the main radar.”

“What’s he sending, and where to?”

“Doesn’t work that way. If they’re good, they’re sending encrypted data, and in any case, it’s gonna be a directional beam, we can’t intercept it. But given their turn to the west, my guess is they’re transmitting to somebody in that direction, better let command know about that. Alright, he’s going back to his previous settings, back to pretending to be an Aq-II. I think he’s hoping we didn’t notice him change his radar settings. Radar emissions stronger now, directed towards us. They must have spotted us.”

Kurtz mentally cursed the situation. His and another squadron had come upon an identically sized enemy formation made up of essentially identical aircraft. With the intensely powerful avionics suite of the Kovas, this was bound to end up to be a fierce fight. “Bloody hell, this will be a fucking messy situation.”

“Change in our tracks again, we’ve got six faint contacts climbing hard and swinging back west. Still too far out, can’t get a positive radar ident. They’ve gone quiet, unless they start broadcasting again we’ll have to get in close to get a hard lock for targeting. Others are still making noise like before, matter of fact they’re putting out the same emissions as the twenty four total before. Unless they miracled some extra fighters in there, doubtful, they’re trying to make it look like all the planes are still continuing due east. These guys are pretty good, if it weren’t for the fact they’re going up against identical aircraft, they could really cause some problems.”

“Alright. We know they’re here, and they know we’re coming after them. Message the 844th, get them the hell up here, we need them for electronic support. We’re going in hot.”

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

Chevrokian Republic Air Force Fighter Command (FICOM)
50 km S of Duntovostok, Chevrokia Proper

“A report coming in from the 843rd, General Ofdensen. It reads as follows:”

Inbound contacts previously given tentative identification as Aquila-IIs now positively identified as hostile Kovas fighters. Suspected data transmission from single enemy aircraft when it broke formation and turned west, shortly before returning to formation. Six tracks have broken formation and turned west. Moving 844th in closer and preparing to engage.

“That’s just our luck, isn’t it?” the General asked, not expecting an answer. “That plane that broke off for a moment to datalink had to be directing towards a specific receiver, or group of receivers. That means there’s something out west supporting these fighters.” He paced about the room briefly, pondering the situation. “Could be tankers to get them enough range to hit from Ferrum Lupus … could be a carrier too. Do we have anything in the area to check it out?”

“Not any of our fighters, sir. There is a Valk tasked for interceptor patrol 800 km to the south of where the 843rd was when they picked up the inbounds, just got tanked up from a KC-167.”

“Excellent, have them move north and intercept the track of the inbounds, then follow it back west.”

“How far, sir?”

‘A valid point,’ the General thought. ‘They could be anywhere out there, and in unknown numbers.’ He thought for a few more moments, “If they haven’t found anything by the time they’re 2,000 kilometers out from the coast, bring them back in.”

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

B-95A “Necessary Evil”
441st Bomb Squadron
1,060 km SE of Petersburg

Once again, Captain Mathias Haffner thought, the bomber crews had to do all the dirty work, especially the Valkyrie crews. Hitting targets at very long ranges meant that they had to go in without fighter support because the only fighter of any sort in the Chevrokian Republic Air Force that had the speed to keep up with the Valks, the F-85 Slayer, didn’t have the range to make such a strike practical; they’d need to refuel at least twice as often as the bombers. For targets closer to friendly bases it could work, otherwise, they had to task other Valkyries as escort fighters, filling their weapons bays to the teeth with air-to-air missiles.

Then somebody in Fighter Command got the brilliant idea of tasking Valkyries for patrolling the outer edges of Chevrokian airspace, armed up just as the “escort fighter” mission was. The problem of course, wasn’t at all that the idea didn’t work. It worked quite well, in fact. A huge bomber capable of Mach 3.5 at wipe open throttle at up to 100,000 feet in altitude, substantial additional capacity of AAMs using its primary weapons bay, and a range of about 11,000 kilometers. Some crews liked being assigned patrol interceptor duty because they felt it was a fairly laid back task, and Haffner agreed that was the case. The problem was, it was no job for a true-to-the-heart bomber crew. Of course the Air Force, despite their rather significant budget, said it would be more practical to just use existing bombers as patrol interceptors when they weren’t absolutely needed for proper bomber duty, largely due to the fact that they wouldn’t need to train additional crews or buy more billion kroner airplanes and on and on it went.

Now, the crew of Necessary Evil had more dirty work to take care of. While doing their double duty as a patrol interceptor, they had been ordered by FICOM to investigate possible enemy activity to the west of Petersburg in light of hostile inbound fighters. Of course, information about what sort of enemy activity might be out west was non-existent. Equipment? Unknown. Strength? Unknown. Specific location? Unknown. The only thing that was known, or rather, assumed, was that something was supporting the fighters based on certain actions which one of them had undertaken, and that if they hadn’t found anything by 2,000 kilometers from the coast, they were to resume their patrol duties.

Well, she had the fuel for it, still climbing up back to cruise altitude after topping off from an airborne KC-167A tanker. Haffner thought out the situation. Unknown enemy of unknown strength possibly located somewhere along a rather vague radial from a Chevrokian coastal city. Just the sort of job for a true bomber man, even if it was still a patrol duty. Right, we’ve got 35 AIM-12s for medium range, 20 AIM-55s for long range, and 6 AIM-44s for point defense.

“Hey Quammen, are we running on full power?” Haffner asked to the navigator/bombardier First Lieutenant Thorbjorn Quammen.

“Yah, Mathias, she’s humming along nicely,” he said, referring to the bomber’s AN/APQ-115 phased array radar set. The set had been significantly underrated when installed in the Valkyrie II, it had been said to be good out to 400 km, but actual detection range was found to be over 650 kilometers, depending on the altitude selected.

“Right, leveling off at Angels 95. What’s our time to intercept the two-seven-zero radial out of Petersburg?”

“Approximately thirteen minutes if we hold at maximum speed.”

“And we’ll certainly need to do that,” said Captain Niklas Lindberg, the co-pilot.

“What’s our radar resolution range, Quammen?” Haffner asked.

“Let’s say about 550 kilometers if it’s a good sized target, surface ships, aerial tankers, stuff like that.”

“So yeah, we will most certainly be running wide open, Nik,” Haffner said, as he advanced the throttles to maximum.

Just under two minutes later the radar emissions from an E/B-177 AEW plane operating to the southeast of the carrier group were picked up by the bomber’s AN/ALQ-135 radar warning receiver, resonating a dull, constant tone in the headset of the defensive systems operator First Lieutenant Sigurd Andersen.

“We’re getting a radar hit!” he shouted. “AWACS bird, range 750 kilometers bearing three-three-six.”

“One of ours?” Lindberg asked.

“Negative on that, her emissions don’t match up with one of ours.”

“Think they’ve spotted us?”

“If we can see them, they can see us.”

“All right, Sig, get our missiles ready just in case.”

“We’re getting radar contacts here,” Quammen said. “Surface contacts by the look of it. Good sized group of ships I’d say. Another three, maybe four minutes and I can tell you what they are.”

The minutes progressed intensely slowly to the crew of Necessary Evil. A second AEW plane was picked up, and they were surely relaying information about the bomber’s passage to any fighters they had airborne.

“Got it! Looks like a battle group of some sort. Two fairly large ships at the center, I’d have to guess carriers where those inbound fighters came from, and twenty smaller vessels escorting.”

“Right then, we’ve spotted an enemy carrier battle group which may or may not still have a significant complement of aircraft, and we’re alone. I’d say we’re finished here,” Haffner said. “Relay this information back, and I’ll turn us a bit more to the east, hopefully we can steer clear of their defenses.”

Paralentum

Following the War of 2017, Paralentum was among the most heavily fortified provinces in the Imperium. Utterly lacking in civilian population, the entire island chain was one large military base (or rather a series thereof). Dozens of large fortified harbors dotted the islands, and within them was based a large portion of Classis Axacala, the Doomani Axackal Fleet. In this case, following the Questarian declaration that they would hault Doomani shipping, the vast majority of the fleet had put to sea and rallied south of the Paralentum Islands with the rest of the fleet, based out of the ports of Caesarea, Arretium, and Ephesium. Ever since Questaria had made its intentions to leave APOC public, Paralentum had been on a state of extremely hightened alert; with the recent declaration that amounted to a declaration of war, it was fully mobilized with aerial patrols tripple what they normally were during peace. They would be able to immediately respond to any attack with overwhelming force.

Indeed, the Questarian Government's choice to give the Doomani 24 hours to comply with their demands had in effect given the Doomani 24 hours to mobilize and prepare for battle. This mistake was soon to cost the Questarian Navy the lives of many of its sailors. Rather than coming upon an unprepared defense, the Questarians found that the vaunted ACID, the organization that had siezed air superiority from them over Paralentum in the last war, was up waiting for them, and the amount of fighters the Doomani had based on the islands was simply staggering.

Over ten-thousand aircraft formed ACID's garrison of Paralentum, and both the NID (Imperial Doomani Navy) and ACID controlled a large number of strategic and tactical missiles built into the islands themselves. The Marinus garrison that had held onto Paralentum in the last war was still present, this time bolstered by an even larger number of Imperial Guard troops to prevent any sort of landing operation. Admittedly, many Doomani commanders expected that the Questarians would not attempt to assault the islands after the humiliation that had been dealt to them twenty years ago, but they would have the option to starve the islands out should they succeed in crushing the islands' defenses. If Paralentum fell, the Doomani presence in the Axackal would utterly crumble, and the Questarians knew this.

Paralentum had several OTH RADAR arrays; these gave advance warning of the approach of the Questarian Fleet and in turn allowed for RORSATs to be diverted to geosyncronous orbit above them to allow for the Questarians to be constantly monitored as well as allowing for anti-shipping missiles to be lobbed from extreme distance without relying on the Questarians to turn their RADARs on (although this would be preferable). AWACS aircraft and high-powered land-based RADAR sights picked up the approach of Questarian carrier aircraft as well as a metric fuckton of ECM noise being generated; the presence of the enemy bombers was detected by the OTH arrays, which promptly relayed that a large number of enemy cruise missiles were inbound behind the enemy's first fighter wave. The first order of business for ACID and NID was simple: achieve air superiority.

ACID was confident that its Aquila-II and Havenfighters (Designated ACI-78 Ares in Doomani service) would be able to sweep the Questarians from the skies around Paralentum fairly effeciently. This, combined with a large number of electronic warfare aircraft (primarily the a Doomani variant ARSB-designed Coldun, designated the ACI-177 Apollo), would make things very difficult, especially considering that the EW birds would be generating their noise around aircraft that were already extremely stealthy. Around the islands, there were at least several hundred separate air strips, thus scrambling whatever fighters were not already airborne was far from a difficult task; fourteen hundred Havenfighters and one hundred Apollos were already airborne with an additional eighteen AWACS aircraft, and another three-thousand five hundred Aquila-IIs and two thousand Havenfighters would be joining them along with five hundred Apollo electronic warfare aircraft (who, in this case, were packing some serious offensive weaponry) and further AWACS support. A strike package of twelve hundred ACI-4 superheavy supersonic bombers was also being put together, packed with anti-shipping weaponry. The ACI-4 (a modernized variant of the Spacian SuB-4) was, for the duration of the war, to be Doomanum's primary anti-shipping bomber.

The first strike by the long range subsonic missiles was not particularly successful; detected at long range by OTH RADAR, a firing solution could only be provided once the missiles came within range within AWACS aircraft. At the altitude they were flying and considering the relatively stealthy nature of the missile, they would still be difficult to detect. A detachment of Havenfighters was sent to destroy them; twelve aircraft total, each armed with ten medium range and four short range air-to-air missiles. The fighters dropped altitude, directed toward the general vicinity of the missiles by friendly OTH RADAR. The extremely powerful RADAR found aboard the Havenfighter was then used to burn through the stealth of the slow moving missiles and pinpoint their exact locations. Their medium range missiles were then loosed, each fighter tracking ten missiles and guiding each missile to their individual target simultaneously. The missiles were easy targets, moving slowly in a straight line, completely illuminated by the Havenfighters' RADAR. The odds of the missiles missing such an easy target was extremely low.
By the time the Questarians began their main attack, Paralentum’s defense force had been fully scrambled.

Doomani AWACS operators directed the Apollos under their control, equipped with six of the large AC.XI long range air-to-air missiles and two ATAIM-10s, were directed to neutralized the Questarian ECM aircraft covering the fighter formation With the AWACS birds providing target data, two hundred of the EW birds ventured out of the main formation (the rest providing jamming support of the lead edge fighter squadrons) of Havenfighters and Aquila-IIs, able to reach into the Questarian formation before their fighters even came in range and pluck their electronic warfare aircraft from the sky with total impunity. The missiles featured both home-on-jam and home-on-emit modes, and their assigned priority targets were jammer aircraft. The missiles themselves were hardened against ECM via silicon diode shielding and Electric Wave Absorbing Material and their own terminal IIR and active homing RADAR would allow for them to reference their targets before engaging to ensure that they were not spoofed by countermeasures. Approaching at mach four, two missiles were assigned for each ECM aircraft; attempts to outmaneuver them would still be fairly difficult due to the use of thrust vectoring and an excellent off-boresight capability, although the primary method of homing in this case would be home-on-jam. The Apollos were simultaneously directed to employ their ATAIM-10s against the dozen Questarian AWACS aircraft. Instead of provoking the Doomani ground RADAR to hasty action, they had instead brought unwanted attention from long range AAMs to themselves; the missiles were set to home-on-emit mode and launched, their maximum range of 400km ensuring that the enemy aircraft could be engaged without too much difficulty and their speed of mach 4.3 and massive 45kg continuous rod warhead and backup sensor systems ensuring that a lumbering AWACS aircraft would not get away intact. In this manner, the Doomani were seeing to it that the Questarians would be blinded, making them extremely easy prey. Once it had been confirmed that the AWACS aircraft were out of the way, the massive Doomani formation would pounce on the comparatively small Questarian fighter formation.

The inbound anti-shipping and cruise missiles were categorized as high priority targets; the Havenfighters had missiles hanging from external hardpoints as well as within their internal bays. They were packed to the brim with AC.IX Sagitta-M medium range air-to-air missiles, a total of ten each, along with four ATAIM-8 short range AAMs. The force was dividided and given different tasks: some 1200 Havenfighters were assigned to neutralizing the inbound cruise missiles while the remainder were given the task of neutralizing the enemy fighters. The Aquila-IIs remained in reserve

For every twenty-four Havenfighters, a single aircraft would light up its stupidly powerful RADAR, acting as a mini-AWACS to supplement the AWACSs controlling the rather large formation. Standing off some one-hundred fifty miles from Paralentum, the formation loosed their missiles from distances of one hundred miles from the inbound cruise missiles. The cruise missiles would have nowhere to hide with the amount of RADAR being directed onto them, and considering the nature of the targets (flying in a highly predictable path in large clusters) intercepting them wouldn't be terribly difficult for the missiles which were normally use against highly maneuverable tactical aircraft. It would be similar to engaging target drones. A single Sagitta-M was fired for each of the cruise missiles; the ones fired by the bombers, being the largest of the targets, would also be the easiest. The smaller AShMs fired by the Cossacks, however, though fewer in number, would be more difficult to hit, and thus to ensure they were destroyed two missiles would be launched for each of those (the second being launched a good twenty seconds after the first to ensure a good follow up, with the first being datalinked to the second to grant the second a far higher chance of hitting it.) This same tactic was employed against the Questarian fighters and the strike aircraft they were protecting; three medium range AAMs were launched per enemy aircraft from a standoff distance of roughly 110 miles with one of the Havenfighters acting as a mini-AWACS to provide its brother aircraft with targeting data, with the main AWACS aircraft further controlling these to allow for the massive force to be controlled in a surprisingly efficient manner. If the Doomani EW aircraft had been successful in destroying Questarian EW aircraft, there would be very little to hide them. The Sagitta-M had both an active homing RADAR as well as a terminal IIR/EO seekerhead to ensure that countermeasures would not work very well against it; in addition, the missiles were extremely maneuverable with their thrust vectoring and off-boresight capability. Dodging just one of them was difficult enough; dodging three at the same time would be a life or death struggle. The lead edge squadrons of the formation, which with its extreme numbers was very deep, would cycle backwards to the rear after firing a few missiles wher e there were tanker aircraft airborne waiting to top them off. In this manner, the Doomani were always able to engage with fully loaded fighters, and the formation would be able to stay airborne for long periods of time. With jammer aircraft protecting the tankers and the lead edges, and considering that the Havenfighter was already a very stealthy design, it was going to be difficult, to say the very least, for the Questarian fighters to get a firing solution for their missiles.

With enemy cruise missiles approaching, NID and ACID thought it expedient to empty the northern island of its entire missile payload. Their target: the Questarian fleet. All over the island, personnel descended into subterranean bunkers (that, with the Questarian employment of earthquake bombs, would soon become their tombs) as VLS sights went hot, their doors swining open revealing their sinister payload of long-range Quinquereme-M2 surface-to-surface missiles. These heavy AShMs (which were essentially glorified ICCMs) were rocketed high into the air, their ramjet engines taking over after reaching going through several mach numbers and reaching an altitude of ninety-five thousand feet, homing in on their targets via satellite and RADAR data, which provided them with a general location for their targets (their own internal phased array set would take over once they got close to allow for better precision). From there they would cruise towards the enemy fleet at speeds exceeding mach six, requiring the use of large theatre surface-to-air missiles to intercept them, and chances were that the Questarians didn't have as many of those as they did other SAMs. As they approached their targets, the missiles gruadually slowed, facilitating the detachment of their four 800lb tungsten-capped rocket-assisted warheads which were then directed downwards towards the Questarian fleet, inertially guided (with backup electro-optical imaging) and receiving data from the main missile body, which loitered overhead, scanning the target area with a phased array RADAR; the missiles fell towards their targets at hypersonic speeds, making them extremely difficult to intercept. With every strategic long-range anti-shipping missile on the island being fired, a total of eight thousand were expended, making for a grand total of 32,000 warheads, the primary targets being Questarian aircraft carriers.

Naturally, however, considering the sheer amount of enemy cruise missiles and the fact that they were interspersed with the enemy fighters, some got through, over a thousand in fact thanks to their extreme speed. The northernmost island of Paralentum, Insula Aquilo, was a sight of utter devestation. Surface-to-air missiles and point defense missiles were frantically fired, managing to destroy at least one hundred of the missiles before they began to impact the harbor facilities and VLS sights. Ironically, though the Questarians professed to be at war to free the slaves, Questarian cruise missiles impacted throughout the island’s sizable slave processing camp, scattering tens of thousands of anti-personnel cluster munitions throughout and tearing people limb from limb. In total, the island’s offensive missile capability had been expended or destroyed, and the twenty vessels that had been moored in its harbor had been sunk or crippled. Oil fires burned throughout the island as fuel and ammo dumps had taken hits. A side effect of the earthquake bombs employed by the Questarians had been to cause the collapse of a number of the shallower shelters, burying thousands of Doomani personnel alive. The air strips on the island would take days to repair, especially considering the amount of damage that had been inflicted on their support facilities; having anticipated losing airfields in the middle of battles, ACID’s bases on Paralentum had been built to support more aircraft than were based there, and as a result the aircraft based on that island would have a place to return.

Several thousand kilometers to the south of the battle, Classis Axacala was being diverted to go into battle against the Questarian fleet. They would swing around Paralentum and hopefully hit the Questarians from the side; however, it was going to take some time for them to get there. For all they knew the battle would be over by the time they got there. The strike package that had been assembled by ACID on Paralentum was also airborne; they would soon be unleashing another torrent of fire onto the Questarian fleet attacking Paralentum.

Chancellery Building, Obsidia

Another set of papers to sign...damn it, Chancellor Hayek cursed to himself. Despite the famously efficient and self-running Hamptonian bureaucracy the Chancellor found that he had to devote at least an hour of every day for signing official papers. Even though all of Haven, including the United Realms, was under threat of war the paperwork would wait for no one.

His secretaries and assistants continued to bring him newly passed laws and executive orders of all kinds - building roads in a new colony, releasing federal funds to a provincial education fund, each was more mundane than the last. When the hour was nearly up he called out to his private secretary who was at her desk just outside the door. "Miss Harris can you bring me the order releasing funds to the Cyptran Dominion Defense Forces." She left her desk and ruffled about a stack of papers on a nearby table. "Here, Chancellor. It came up from DODI no more than an hour ago."

Hayek signed the document and continued the relatively mindless work. As he went back into the motions of signing paper after paper his mind began to drift. His thoughts were of his recently departed wife. He was still deeply saddened by her passing; he felt cold and dark inside. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her face. And that's what he did. He stopped his work and rested his head on both of his hands. He quickly drifted off into a world where his wife was still living, no one feared war and all was right with the world.

Hayek was pulled from the dream by a loud knock at one of the side doors. The knocking repeated again and the door opened. Marcelo Paredes, the Chief Cabinet Secretary, briskly walked over to where the Chancellor was seated. "Excuse the intrusion, but we have an extraordinary situation developing." Hayek motioned for Paredes to sit down at a pair of chairs in front of his desk. Paredes handed a manila folder to the Chancellor. Hayek sat rigidly straight in the chair as he looked at the sheets of paper in his hands.

"So we are absolutely certain that his plane was forced down by the Doomies and that they have taken the passengers hostage," the Chancellor asked while still looking at the file.

"Last radio and radar contact confirms that the Doomani forced the plane to land in Nuclearum. We will not know for certain the fate of the hostages until further satellite surveillance and confirmation from the Doomani, but RAFIS says that most likely they are hostages."

"Including Solberg and Larsen," the Chancellor was still fighting to wrap his mind around the situation, "and some Cravanian legislator?"

"Yes." Paredes paused, "Before I came in here I was on the phone with a producer at HNN. Someone leaked the story to them and they are going to run it immediately."

"Brilliant. That's just what he needed." Hayek threw the folder down to the ground. "Marcelo, I want an emergency session of the Senior Cabinet tonight. Calling the Palace and get things together for a full meeting of the Council of State tomorrow morning."


------


Breaking News From HNN Online
HNN.hts

http://img383.imageshack.us/img383/9113/hnnvk0.png

Hamptonian Airliner Forced Down
Doomani take 205 - includes "several government ministers"

HNN has received reports from several governmental sources and from international agencies that WorldAir Flight 4261 has been forced down in the Doomani territory of Nuclearum. The jet was on the last leg of its regularly scheduled Weslyn-Carpanthium-Slovonsko route. Weather conditions may have forced the crew to fly closer than usual to Doomani-controlled airspace. There is no word yet on the two hundred and five passengers and crew.

Sources within the Foreign Office have told HNN that Minister of State Oskar Solberg and Senator Stephen Larsen, Senate Proconsul, may have been on the flight. So far requests for confirmation have been unanswered by government ministries.

We will have more as this story develops.

Royal Palace
Eeobroht, Cotland
June 25th, 20XX

The situation in Haven was deteriorating rapidly. The Doomani island chain of Paralentum was under Questerian attack, and Rosdivan’s Havenic colony which bordered the Cottish homeland was gearing for total war. The Praetonians were giving Cotland flak about its sale of old destroyers to Doomingsland, and the Kargucagstanis were making moves against Clandonia. Additionally, the Allaneans had started their rather brutal anti-slavery/piracy campaign, which had triggered pro-Doomani terrorist attacks within Allanea, and to top things off, Doomingsland had forced down a Hamptonian airliner in Nuclearum, just north of the Cottish border. It seemed that Cotland remained the only tranquil haven in western Haven.

The Cottish government intended for Cotland to remain a tranquil haven.

In the Royal Palace in Eeobroht, the Realm’s War Council (which consisted of King himself, the leaders of the Armed Forces branches from the Supreme High Command, the Prime Minister, the ministers for Defense, Foreign Affairs, and Treasury, and the Director of the Intelligence Services (DIS)) were gathered for the n’th time since war erupted.

“Your Majesty,” the DIS started at the opening of the afternoon’s meeting. “Our intelligence sources and national intelligence assets have determined that our neighbors in Rosdivan have started gearing for total war. In addition to their single naval shipyard in Haven, all Rosdivani shipyards have gone to war mode and started producing military vessels. This change of pace followed immediately after the Rosdivani declaration of war on Doomingsland. Additionally, we have information from the same sources that indicate that the Aequatians are preparing to deploy substantial troops and equipment to Rosdivan’s Havenite colony. This, combined with the proximity of Rosdivan’s Havenite colony to Doomingsland proper makes the possibility of war being brought to our doorstep a very real possibility.”

Marskalk Orm Sturessøn, the Marshall of the Armed Forces and second only to the King himself stood and straightened his khaki uniform jacket which looked like it threatened to weigh down the aging man, filled with golden insignia, badges and decorations as it was.

“My King, the risk of Rosdivan becoming a second war theatre in this war, combined with the fact that the Doomani are making Nuclearum a target for the Questerian side by forcing down airliners are all indications that the threat of war is growing ever closer to Cotland’s borders. We need to take pre-emptive measures in order to secure our neutrality.”

The King looked at the Marshall, motioning for him to go on.

“Majesty, on the behalf of the Supreme High Command, I recommend that we increase our military readiness to BERSTAT-3. As Your Majesty knows, this is the highest peacetime readiness level, and would be a message to the world that we intend to defend our neutrality if forced to. Additionally, I would recommend that we reinforce our borders with troops from the Army. A neutrality watch, if Your Majesty wish. It will be considered a perfectly natural move made in order to reinforce our neutrality. Additionally, we should being preparing our reserves for mobilization in the event that war spills over the borders. More specifically, we should intensify the call up of reserve formations for repetition training.”

The King listened to the advice offered by the highest-ranking professional officer in the land. The Marshall had served the Realm for going on fifty years and knew his trade well. He had been the King’s advisor for the past nine years since he ascended to the throne, and had yet to offer flawed advice. Therefore, the King gave the Marshall’s advice great weight as he pondered over the pros and cons of the suggestion. Looking to the Prime Minister to see what he had to say, the politician just nodded in agreement. As did everyone else around the table. There was consensus.

“Marshall, I trust you to issue the necessary orders. I don’t want excessive forces on the borders, just enough troops to show that we take the matter seriously and that we don’t want any incidents.”

The Marshall nodded.

“Very well. It is so decreed.” The King stated, to which the Marshall bowed before sitting back down.

Somewhere on Cottish-Rosdivan border
2100 hrs, June 25th, 20XX

The column of Praetor heavy infantry fighting vehicles and LY83 Fox utility trucks came to a halt outside the red brick building that housed the customs office at this particular border checkpoint, which was located a mere two hundred fifty meters from the border, and the company of infantrymen from the 22. Uavhengige Mekaniserte Brigade dismounted from their vehicles.

Most of the men, clad in combat fatigues ( http://i271.photobucket.com/albums/jj146/Eeobroht/Uniforms/feltuniform.png) with loaded DR-83Ms slung over their shoulders stretched their limbs, having been locked up inside the IFVs for hours, while others (the officers and NCOs) cobbled together and started discussing where the men should prepare the temporary camp. The Praetors were parked with the fronts facing the Rosdivan border, and while the 57 MM barrels were facing the sky in a non-hostile fashion, the mere presence of the heavy war machines less than half a kilometer from the border was a disturbing sign, especially for the Rosdivani customs officials and border guards as there had been no official declaration.

As the troops were given orders to prepare for a lengthy stay at the checkpoint and started preparing their positions (setting up tents, laying out more barbed wire, et cetera), three of the soldiers walked up to the border, which was clearly marked by a parallel 3-metre fences topped with barbed wire, with regular watchposts and a road running between them to accommodate police patrols or ambulance service in case of need. Underground cables connected spotlights, noise and movement sensors, and video cameras to the nearest border checkpoint. The fences had an opening which was occupied by a two-lane road which lead from the Rosdivani border checkpoint to the Cottish border checkpoint, and could be blocked by pop-up road barriers if needed.

The three soldiers were all armed, carrying a DR-83M in a sling over their back, but donned the black beret that signified the Mechanized Forces of the Royal Cottish Army, not the combat helmet they would have worn had they meant anything hostile.

At the bright red line that was painted onto the road to mark the actual border, the three soldiers stopped and waited patiently for the Rosdivani soldiers to approach them to hear what they had to say. A few minutes later, three Rosdivani soldiers approached the Cots. As they stopped on their side of the border, the leader of the three Cottish soldiers, a lieutenant by the look of the subdued rank insignia on his uniform, gave the Rosdivanis a crisp salute before he spoke in accented English.

“By order of His Majesty the King, the Cottish Army has been deployed to border to safeguard Cotlands neutrality as a result of Rosdivan declaration of war. This is not meant as aggression from Cotland.”

While accented and not exactly grammatically perfect, the young lieutenant got the message across, and the Rosdivani soldiers relaxed. As the lieutenant waited for the Rosdivani response, the soldiers in the background carried on with their establishing of a temporary camp.

All along the Cottish border with both Rosdivan, Allanea, Doomingsland and the People’s Freedom, soldiers from the Army were deploying to within 5 kilometers of the border and setting up forward operating bases from which they would patrol the border to ensure Cottish neutrality. Fighter and helicopter patrols near the border were also stepped up, and the extensive RADAR network kept close tabs on what moved within 300 to 500 kilometers of Cotland’s borders, while the Navy was aggressively patrolling Cotland’s waters.

Additionally, throughout Cotland, reservist units would begin to assemble by the battalion within a few days for 7-day refresher courses that included a briefing on the state of current Havenic affairs, marksmanship training, combined-arms training and some elements of guerilla warfare training (just in case).

RCNS Glødende Stjerne (R489), Type 94 Monarch class CVN
780 nautical miles off Clandonia
0500 hrs, June 26th, 20XX

The RCNS Glødende Stjerne, a brand new Type 94 Monarch class fleet aircraft carrier, was three days out of Praetonia, and moving at a leisurely 19 knots on a south-southwesterly course for Cotland. The aircraft carrier was the latest addition to the Royal Cottish Navy and the 87th ship of the 150-vessel carrier force the Royal Cottish Navy had purchased from Praetonia in order to replace the aging Questerian-made Ark Royal class carriers which had recently been decommissioned, and on its way home along with its escort which consisted of one Type 51 County class guided missile cruiser and eight Type 81 Cavalier class destroyers, all of whom were also new additions to the Fleet, courtesy of various Praetonian shipyards. The ships still smelled of fresh paint and the crews were still adjusting to the new ships, even though they had all been trained and qualified on sister ships of the various classes prior to getting on the plane to Praetonia and manning the ships. Still, new or not, the ten ships had all been combat certified prior to departure from Praetonia and been fitted with a full suite of weaponry as the Havenic waters could be hazardous to the unprepared, and the Glødende Stjerne had a full air group aboard, including sixty brand new FA-77N Kovas fighters and thirty RAC-201 Sea Shrike strike aircraft. The battle group packed a serious punch and was surely capable of making a potential attacker think twice about attacking it.

So, the Glødende Stjerne and her battle group was more than capable of carrying out the new orders the Naval High Command gave it in the wee hours of June the 26th. The group had received the notification of BERSTAT-3 the previous evening, and gone on heightened alert shortly thereafter. Now, it was ordered to alter course to move into Clandonian waters and offer the necessary support to Clandonia against the Kargucagstani threat. The Clandonian government was also informed of the redirection of the Glødende Stjerne battle group, henceforth known as Battle Group 489 within the Royal Georgian League-chain of command, and that it was at the Clandonian disposal as long as the missions tasked weren’t in violation with Cotland’s stated neutrality ( http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13770541&postcount=25).

Additionally, the Cottish government promised to send ground troops to Clandonia if such forces were requested by the Clandonian government. As a consequence, the 10th Army was placed on a standing 24-hour readiness for deployment. If Kargucagstan didn’t cease and desist, Cotland would have to fulfill its mutual defense obligation to Clandonia.

“Sir?” the radar-operator shouted to his commanding officer.

“Yes, what is it lad?” replied the officer, walking up behind him.

The operator turned back to the screen, pointing at a dozen little dots appearing on his screen, with more showing up all the time. The outlines present on the screen showed that they were over Kargucagstan, but if they continued at their current trajectory they would be over Krendakov in half-an-hour or so.

“Sir, these aircraft started showing up a moment ago, they're popping up all the time!” he said, as another couple appeared, “Sir, it's not unheard of, but considering the situation in Haven at the moment...”

“You're right, lad, keep a watch on them. We'll be ready for them if they cross the border-line.” He interrupted, and walked off to make a phone call to the Air-defence Co-ordinator for the region.

“Sir, we have a situation with the Kargucagstanis, they've brought a lot of air-power near to the border, about a dozen and a half, two dozen, and are bringing more up by the minute. It may just be a readiness test, but you know how things are currently...” He trailed off.

“Hmm...” came the response along the phone line, “How long 'till they reach Krendian air-space?”

“Half-an-hour, give or take a few minutes.”

“We'll ready a couple of wings, call back in fifteen and say whether or not they're continuing towards us.”

“Yes, sir.”

There was a buzzing in the ear-piece signifying that the phone had been hung up. The officer returned to his desk to watch the clock, to wait the fifteen minutes until he had to call back.

It was a long fifteen minutes for the officer, but it ended all too soon for his liking. He had applied for this job since he had no particular desire to be fighting – the idea of providing information to help others appealed to him. He now saw that war was coming, there were yet more blips on the radar and they had crossed roughly half the distance. This did not feel like a military readiness test, this felt like an invasion. He went back and picked up the phone, dialling the phone-number for the Air-defence Co-ordinator once again. The phone rang, and almost immediately was picked up, it seemed that one was as nervous as the other.

“Sir...” began the officer slowly, “The Kargucagstanis have continued to amass and have continued to move in our direction.”

There was a sigh. “How many are there?”

“Dozens upon dozens. Could be up to a hundred.”

“Very well, have you anything else to report?”

“No, sir.”

“We shall deploy the two wings that we have readied and prepare another four wings.”

“Very good, sir”

Click, buzz. The officer turned to the men at his installation, and told them what was going to happen. The men took it stoically, as he had when he realised what was going to happen, and set back about their work. The Krendian aircraft quickly showed up on the radar screens.

----------

The Krendian Border Guards had been taken by surprise, not to mention the fact that they were ill-equipped to combat an army. The Kargucagstani military had sliced through them like a hot knife through butter. Their forces had managed to brake through the Krendian frontier and were now making their way towards the Krendian heartland on the western coast. This was where a huge amount of the Krendian population lived, and it was where the capital was. There was no way that the Krendians would give up this piece of land while they still drew breath.

However, the Krendian Spetsnaz had been moved in to the border zone by helicopter transport as soon as the Border Guards had reported that a military force was on its way into Krendakov, and had provided much valuable information about the composition, preparedness, &c. about the belligerent army. The Krendian Red Army had drawn upon all its soldiers in the area and many of its reservists to form a mighty force that might halt the Kargucagstani advance before it reached Illyviev, the southernmost city on the Krendian west-coast.

A great number of armour and support weapons were brought out of the warehouses that stored them when not in use. Both men and equipment were transported by train from their own cities down the coast into the Illyviev, where they were taken to the outskirts of the city to train, to prepare and to lie in wait for the advancing fascist forces. Trenches were dug, sand-bag bunkers were constructed and razor-wire and mines were laid. Troops spent their time at target-practice, with rifles, with tanks, with howitzers; in short they trained with whatever weapons they had available.

In their free time the talk was of the coming battle. Krendakov had long been isolationist, and none of these men had seen a real battle. Some of the more elite groups had been involved in live fire exercises, but even these men were eager to see real battle – afterwards they would not be so eager to see it again, but they were young and naïve, and they had been taught what Wilfred Owen called 'the old lie'. Yes, throughout their lives – in the Young Pioneers, in the Kosmomol, in the Party and in School – they were taught 'dulce et Decorum est, pro patria mori', 'it is sweet and honourable to die for your country'. As youths they had acted out famous battles of the revolution that they had been taught in history, and now they were getting to defend the revolution from reactionary elements for real. It was their, incredibly misguided, dream come true.

Eventually the reports came in that the Kargucagstanis were approaching the city. Soldiers threw down cards, snubbed out cigarettes and left all manner of diversions that they had been participating in to keep boredom at bay and ran to their positions, grabbing up rifles, flak-vests, grenades, ammunition, &c.. As they waited they checked their gear: made sure their helmets were tight, checked that their magazines were fully loaded and that sort of thing. Men tapped their boots or helmets, flicked lighters on and off or bit on their nails – anything to pass the time until the Kargucagstanis arrived – which to their minds, seemed to take an age as a result of the anticipation they felt.

When the Kargucagstani forces did arrive, pandæmonium broke loose. Their forces stopped as they approached the defensive position that the Krendians had set up, seeing the dug-up fields and recognising that this meant mines, and by the size of the dug-up area, lots of them. Then a series of booms rang out across the vale as the Krendian howitzers and other artillery let off their shots, which came crashing down with huge force upon the Kargucagstanis. Explosions tore infantrymen and tanks alike apart, rending both flesh and metal.

The battle for Illyviev had begun.

The “sacrifices” the Kyrios spoke of at the start of hostilities were quick to arrive. The Kargucagstani New People’s Party were a firm believer in the teachings of Niccolo Machiavelli, specifically in the use of early rationing and curfews for the civilian populace while there is still more than enough to go around, in order to accustom them to the eventual shortages that such a war would bring. Rifles were given top-priority manufacturing status and those commercial hulls that had already been laid down were quickly set to be converted into decently capable warships. The best universities of a thousand cities were tasked with the conversions, their members being encouraged to join wartime “think tanks.” The Home Guard was restarted for the first time since the last revolution, its numbers swelling under the weight of patriotic citizens. Twenty percent of all television airtime was requisitioned for use by government/citizen instruction programs and classes in varied kinds of survival tactics sprang up at every community hall in the country.

Kargucagstan was gearing up for war.

Northwestern Krendakov
June 27th

“Incoming!” As the first of the artillery shells began to land, the Kargucagstanis scattered, attempting to put space between vehicles to minimize casualties. Fountains of earth and metal shot up from the ground. Radios blared with warnings and shouted cries. The calm voices of air force pilots crackled as they announced their ETAs.

“Two minutes and closing!” followed a short time later by the tale-tell whistling of falling cluster munitions. And just like that, a hole was opened in the Krendian minefield.

“Adjust your heading point two degrees and engage,” shouted the tank commander. The turret rotated above him as the gunner shifted targets and the characteristic thump of a round leaving the barrel resounded through the chamber. The round went wide, but the next was spot on. The Krendian tank that just crested a hill on the horizon shook with the impact and bled smoke as the crew rushed to bail out, black smoke pouring from its interior. “Bring the gun about three degrees, up elevation one degree.”

“Yes sir!” The gunner brought the gun around again. Another 125mm APFSDS slide into the breach and a green light flicked onto his control panel.

“Engage,” the commander ordered. More depleted uranium streaked downrange. The indig Kargucagstani Rhino MBT was in its element in this kind of terrain, the low hills providing just enough cover for its squat form to hide behind. But as the tank crested the rise, a hidden wire-guided ATGM managed to score a fluke shot to its lightly armored belly. The tank was ripped open in a massive fireball. Driver and gunner both dead, the commander was miraculously left alive. Maimed, but alive. Struggling to extricate himself from the growing inferno, he crawled out the top hatch and into the greasy air. He couldn’t feel his legs.

“God damnit,” he swore, “god damnit.” If the driver were still alive he would have chewed him out for being so stupid. Who drives up such a small, treeless hill in the middle of combat? But he was dead, so in the end it didn’t matter. Another bomb landed unexpectedly off to the commander’s left, hopefully incinerating the Communist anti-tanker. Kargucagstan had been lucky so far, managing to secure a wide swathe of land and maintain total air supremacy within it. It was all thanks to the hulking airships that floated several hundred kilometers behind the front lines. It took only a brief time for the heavy Skyian-built SAMs they carried to intercept whatever targets were painted by the much-closer AWACS airships. Combined with mobile SAMs and a healthy dose of fighter support, the Fascists had a comfortable aerial bubble to breath in.

That could not be said for the ground. As the commander watched, the nearest friendly tank detonated from an incoming shell. There wasn’t much hope for any survivors. How the round had gotten through the APS or ERA was beyond him, but once again it mattered little. The spooks watching the battle on covert television back in City 1 could worry about that. Grunting with effort, he made his way back to his burning tank. If he could just haul himself up to the auxiliary weapons rack he could grab a rifle and wait to be rescued. He tried to claw up the side of the tank, but the twisted armor plating cut his hands and the backs of his useless legs. Spent, he lay down on the ground and stared up at the sky. Something exploded far overhead, possibly a plane but more likely an intercepted missile. The sky was blue, dashed with white clouds and black smoke. Beautiful.

War room, HQ of the KNPP, City 1

The war room was quickly becoming the busiest location in the already hopping headquarters building, with men dashing through its screen-laden walls and three times as many arms-bearing guards at every checkpoint. The general staff agreed that all was going well thus far, but routine meetings were still held, with a special effort put on connecting the top brass to the more hands-on commanders.

“General Alexis, Field Marshall Balthasar and Colonel Hesperos are waiting on line one,” a wall speaker announced. Chrysander walked up to the wall of screens and selected the rune for one. Two screens flicked to images of Krendakov, with the face of an officer in each one.

“Hello Chrysander,” grinned Bacchus. The two men had served together extensively in the Med’, and were still good friends, despite Bacchus being promoted ahead of the older Chrysander.

“Bacchus. It’s going well, I see.” Chrysander poured himself a cup of ice water. Any sort of mind-altering products were banned in Kargucagstan, and that included coffee, even decaf. Still, a drink was a drink.

“Indeed. We’ve pushed back the Communists several hundred miles in but three days. An astonishing victory!”

“Yes it is, but I have a feeling you didn’t call in order to tell me this.” Chrysander laughed a little.

“You are right, old friend. This is my companion, Colonel Hesperos.” The second screen focused more, giving a better view of the young commander. His hair was close-cropped and very coarse, giving his scalp an aged appearance. His youthful face more than made up for it, however. “He personally led the blitz on Kaddingrad.” Hesperos grinned at the mention of his greatest victory. Over a thousand Krendians killed with only a hundredth of the losses.

“An astonishing achievement, Colonel, and one we will need more of if we are to stay on schedule. Now, what can I do for you?” The colonel’s smile softened.

“General Alexis, Field Marshall Balthasar has told me so much about you. It is a pleasure to speak with you. Now, the reason for the call, sir, is that I have some concerns.”

“What are they, Colonel?” asked Chrysander, the cup of water half to his lips.

“Well sir, I think we need to step up our mobilization.” Chrysander raised an eyebrow. “You see, we have a token few million men moving against Krendakov now, but if the Communists were to fully mobilize, which they will doubtlessly do in a matter of days, or if any RGL forces were to enter the war, we would be hard pressed to hold our own border, let alone what territory we have conquered. Before you say anything else, sir, I would also like to say that we need to be pressing into southern Krendakov as well. The Praetonians and their line have given us some breathing room, but not much and we need to exploit every bit of it. No doubt if we force the Communists and their allies to fight on such a long border we can tire them out before we ourselves fall.”

“Interesting ideas, Colonel, and I will certainly take them into consideration. Field Marshall, what are your thoughts on this?”

“Chrysander, I am in agreement with Hesperos. He and his lieutenants have seen the tactical situation first hand. I would trust his judgment with my life.” Chrysander nodded, slowly. Thanking the two commanders for their update, he closed the links and stepped back to his desk. After a few moments of contemplative sipping he took a seat and depressed the intercom stud.

“Get me an appointment with the theater generals, please. One hour from now.” He sat back and took another sip of water.

* * *

“Simply put, the best course of action would be to follow this colonel’s recommendations. They are, after all, virtually identical to the goals we had already set.” Chrysander was hunched over the digital map, gesturing leisurely to both the south and the north. “The biggest concern, however, he barely even touched on, that of the RGL ‘line of no return’.” To say it is absurd is an understatement. Not only is it beyond any so-called ‘peace-loving’ nation’s right to impose such a barrier on any other, the fact that they would do so when the Communists are the ones being attacked simply staggers the mind.”

“I quite agree, General,” nodded another senior officer. The small enclave in the back of the war room was spared the hustle and bustle of the main area, but the odd aide still occasionally showed up to hand data slates to one of the generals. Everyone in the room was top-level clearance anyway, so it didn’t really matter if they overheard. “It states quite clearly that they wish for war and seek some arbitrary justification for it. Thus, I believe that should be our top priority.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Send a message to the RGL. Move up our lines right to theirs. I want the tips of our rifles poking over that red line.” The men gathered around the table chuckled at the idea, and the pompous general who made the suggestion leaned back and puffed out his chest. When the laughter died down, one of the least senior among them raised a valid point.

“But why are we listening to them at all? Why stop at the line? As you say it is entirely arbitrary.”

“Because,” Chrysander quickly replied, “if we cross it the RGL enters the war. Praetonia has an estimated one point five to three million men in Clandonia, and the armed forces of the latter are almost entirely unknown. While reinforcements from Questers are unlikely, rumors of intervention by Velkya abound. We have to be absolutely ready when we make that move.”

“Agreed, and well said. In other terms, though, we are waiting on the Novan reinforcements.”

“Speaking of which,” Chrysander interrupted, “we have another issue to deal with. Cape King George, the naval base Praetonia carved out of the mouth of the Petronas Sound, will almost certainly launch a blockade against us the moment we cross the line. All shipping, commercial and especially military, will be halted. If we want to continue to receive supplies past that time, which we will, something must be done. Now, what I originally intended for us to do was move ships in from our southern bases near Skaugra at the same time as we bring in the main fleet from the mainland. However, given the timeframe we are working with before the Novan fleet arrives, that would take too long. So, we will have to work with the…” he crunched some numbers in his head, “1,000 or so ships we have in the sound right now. Those to the south will take, ah, 26 odd hours to arrive, assuming they have the battleships with them.”

“Well,” coughed the first officer, “what are we facing in Cape King George? What does intel say?”

“Much like Clandonia’s strength it is largely unknown. We have already secured permission from Candiro if we need to use their waters, but they say they will not commit any forces to the action. We will be alone. However, we do know that most of their fleet is at sea, heading towards active combat zones mostly in the south and west. Beyond that, though, is a mystery. And gentlemen, another interesting message from Candiro. In exchange for whatever is left of CKG they are willing to secretly pool their financial resources with ours and even give us covert special forces assistance. In other words, in combination with the machines, money, men and supplies we are already receiving from the World Soviet Party, Novacom and Doomingsland we would be able to outlast and outman virtually any opponent.”

“Provided,” broke in another speaker, “that the World Soviet Party doesn’t openly declare their support for Doomingsland. If they move against Hjetland their cover would be blown and their shipping intercepted. It would be a large burden on them to defend the entire half-million kilometer trade route.”

“Indeed. But let us cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, move fleet elements into position around CKG. I want to open with a missile bombardment at 2400, midnight. Gentlemen, once we attack the RGL will be against us, and they will attack. We must be ready. Dismissed.”

Central Kargucagstan
2340

The F/A-77A Kovas, decked out in the Nuclear Commonwealth color scheme of anti-flash white with so-called “bigass nose art,” climbed at an almost vertical angle, sitting on a column of fire. The altimeter was changing rapidly, and the pilot wasn’t exactly sure if that was a good thing. He had just received the aircraft days before and had only a basic understanding of its intricacies. However advanced it was, however, the plane was still just an aircraft, and could be controlled much like many other modern fighter craft.

“Continue your assent, Raven One, to projected nominal launch point. Prepare to fire at 2400.”

“Roger that, Sharpeyes one. Raven One, out.” The pilot adjusted his weight in the seat after disconnecting from the AWACS operator on the radio. The bulky white missile, and many of its brothers strapped to the belly of other ascending fighters had dates to catch with a series of Praetonian, Clandonian and Krendian satellites. This would be an interesting night, indeed.

Liberty City, Wolfenhalle

The President of Senate, the head of the Federal Assembly had retired due to failing health. Viktor Brezecski, a member of the Federal Communist Party was 87 and had heart problems. Kaiser had to appoint a new President of the Senate, one man keep coming up, a old veteran of Wolfenhaller politics. Now, he had to bring from retirement to the take up the office. He grabbed the phone and called the one man he could trust with the duty of leading a wartime Federal Assembly.

New London, Wolfenhalle
John was siting in his bath relaxing, he left politics and returned to his birthplace, the coal mining town of New London. The phone rang, and he pick up the phone that was near his tub. "Hello, Who's this"
"Rudy, Why are you calling"
Kaiser told him about the poisition
"Ok, you want me. Me to run the Federal Assembly, I understand. It was getting kinda boring here, hell one more for the road."
He got up and dressed himself, and told his family what happen. His wife wasn't surprised with the war in Haven, she was expecting something. He went out and saw a S60 waiting for him, the driver standing next to the passenger door. "The President send me." the driver told him. John was President and a army officer, the two things he loved. The man that Kaiser chose entered the vehicle and headed to office. On a dark night, Field Marshal John Calvin Handstand, Sr. rode in a sedan on the way to his new job.

Liberty City, Wolfenhalle

The car arrives in front of Liberty Hall, the home of the Federal Assembly. The new President of the Senate entered the building and heads to a joint session of the Federal Assembly. He hears members talking about the new man saying he appointed on political favor rather then merit, he was happy to hear others defend him. Soon, everyone was going to decided that this appointment was on need. He enters the room with his covering his face, the room at a quiet. He stands at the podium and removes his hat showing his grey hair. He then rises up at the Federal Assembly. He begins his speech.

"I, have been selected to bring a united front in this country. War has erupted in Haven. We have aligned ourselves with the nations of Quester, Franberry, and others against slavery. This isn't a wise choice but a choice had to make in the name of freedom. I wasn't expecting to be call to defend this nation in a time of war. I came here to lead a united Federal Assembly in a time of darkness. I accept this duty with the same honor, I have given my other duties. Im proud to announce that the Wolfenhaller government by a 80% majority formally declares a state of hostilities between it and the Doomani Axis."

The Federal Assembly was in a state of frantic behavior, Kaiser give them a man that could, I mean was the only opinion. John C. Handstand sat in his seat and said "Let's get to work."

Classified Message from the Allanean Department of State to the Cotlandi Foreign Office

Dear Friends!

We understand fully your belief that your national sovereignty, neutrality, and safety must be secured in what is coming around to be a new Havenic conflict. We understand fully that the large tank formations in San Nereiana may appear to you as some form of menace to Cotland. And yet, just as that is all true, we to are concerned about your reinforcement on the Allanean-Cotlandi border. We would like to remind you and assure you that despite some differences, Allanea is Cotland's friend. We wish to assure you that we mean you no threat and no harm.

Sincerely yours,
The Allaneans.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v42/allanea/Propaganda/war2.jpg

Allanea, one of the extra-Havenic Territories

Marshal Watanabe looked at the soldiers before him, drew breath, and started speaking.

“Freemen!

Our Clandonian allies are under threat! Even as we speak, the Kargucagstani Fascists – and yes, I fucking kid you not, they are called just that, the Kar-gu-cag-stani – are invading Krendakov. That in itself would not be a problem, since Krendakov is a commie craphole not worthy of having an Allanean drill sergeant step on its ground with his boots – but the problem is that they may conquer that nation and continue on to Clandonia, in an effort to support Doomingsland in their struggle against everything that is good and proper in the Haven region. A struggle against Liberty herself.”

There was a pause as he straightened his famous deep-purple jacket with his palms, took a deep breath and continued.

“Freemen, this cannot stand!

Though we will not deploy immediately to Clandonia until such a time their government permits our entrance, we will now remain by our aircraft. All troops are now on emergency alert. Should the Clandonians allow our presence, we will deploy immediately to the Clandonia-Krendakov border, with the aid of five more Airborne divisions.

Freemen, we will not allow the fascist to set foot in fair Clandonia. Or, if we will, we will amputate his foot. Long has the principle of Allanean foreign policy been this: Not an inch of free soil in Haven will we cede to the enemy!

Let me correct myself: There is an amount of Clandonian soil that we can afford to cede to the fascists. I hereby announce a land ration for them: six feet of it for each Karcugan soldier that crosses the sacred borders of fair Clandonia.”

The troops cheered. “Go Shinji! Go Shinji! WE have their land for them RIGHT HERE!”

“That's right, troops! We will distribute those rations! A fair lot of land for every Karcugan!”

He waited for the cheering to die away.

Cabinet Office, Warminster

An emergency cabinet, someone in trouble, a crisis somewhere in the world? Someone has to take the rap for it. Gathered together on a Saturday night in various states of evening attire the cabinet of Prime Minister Sir David Sistilin were seated for the late night session. Worried looks all around as the intelligence briefing from the Imperial Chiefs of Staff was presented along with various imagery and intelligence assessments. The Prime Minister in a dinner suit had taken off the jacket, unbuttoning the waistcoast smoking a cigar as he strolled down the room thinking of the best possible action as total war loomed.

"Prime Minister, there is little we can do now. The time of diplomacy is over, we must prepare our border units to dig in repel an invasion. Its all over the media now, civilians in the border towns are jamming the motorways in panic. We must declare a state of emergency and prepare our forces for attack." Spoke the Home Office Minister Sir Percy, himself with a worried look and the beads of sweat appearing on his bald forehead.

The War Office attaché stood up with a laser pointer in his hand.

"Prime Minister, this image is 20 minutes old snapped by one of our Keyhole orbital devices that was shot up two days ago to monitor the situation over our region. It shows Kargucagstani armoured units breaching the border with Krendakov meeting very little resistance. No surprise for a communist army but this poses us a question, we have eight million men on the border with Krendakov but such a large land border they are spread thinly. I advise we order our rapid air assault forces to saddle up to respond to any advances. Using missiles and artillery we can slow them down, the minefield as demonstrated in Krendakov did little to slow them. We must call upon Bomber Command to start carpet bombing their front lines while using the RAF's fighter bombers to strafe their front lines with anti-tank missiles. Two Royal Navy battlefleets from the Imperial Fleet are in the area just off Cape King George and are ready to engage a blockade of all Kargucagstani flagged shipping and order all other vessels to be bordered and searched in the name of the Crown to prevent more war materials from reaching the enemy."

"This is all very well and good but what is the timescale?" Buzzed the PM, looking frantic as the television images of the twenty four hour news channels showed the throngs of Clandonian civilians fleeing the border area, the motorways jammed pack as the army went West on the other carriageway with its armour and artillery.

"Sir, the RAF is ready for scramble on command. With active satellite imagery we can devastate their frontal troops once they cross the 'red line' and using the SAS which are preparing to move into Krendakov destroy all usable infrastructure. Railways, roads, airstrips, major bridges and fuel infrastructure. If we await until they are at our border it will be too late and I and I'm sure the electorate would rather the fighting and mess be undertaken in some communist hellhole than the pristine West Country. The garrison towns are to important as well, we would loose our supply base and logistical capability that could hinder us if fighting Kargucagstan in Krendakov."

"What politically would be a good idea of invading a neighbour, a guarantee of sovereignty from the fascist foe?"

"Sounds about right sir, a sort of rallying cry for freedom and liberty along with national sovereignty and Defence of the Realm, the press and people will love it." Prepped the PM's Public Relations and World Affairs officer.

"Cotland has offered a carrier battlegroup and the Allaneans have also offered support, the Crown military is ready at the moment and I see no need other than our Royal George League allies to ask for more aid. The Imperial Praetonian Navy has some one thousand ships at the Cape, we will crush the Kargucagstani navy with the combined maritime power of Clandonia and Praetonia."

"Then its settled, we shall meet again at 2 am."

Various ministers groaned, looking at their watches. It would be a very long night as the house staff brought in another eight pots of coffee and biscuit platters.


---


400 km's East of Cape King George

The 4th and 5th Imperial Expeditionary Battlefleets had just been on a shakedown cruise with the new Monarch Class CVN's that had recently replaced the Country CVN's. Leading the way, protected by the larger and older Avenge Heavy Battleships and the Cheshire Class Battlecruisers that were soon up for upgrades or transfer to the fleet reserve themselves. Four hundred vessels as part of the Force B for the area between Cape King George and the Haven Strait, providing protection to Clandonian shipping. Complete with full carrier air wings of RAC-201N Sea Shrikes and RAC Rook tankers and AWACs and Electronic Warfare variants.

The fleet was fully combat ready, as the Admiral in charge of the force was awoken from his cabin as Room 40 at the Admiralty passed intelligence that the War Office had just processed of various fleet movements by the Kargucagstani navy. The instruction to go to Action Stations was confirmed with, the last line of the message.

'War imminent within the next 12 hours, orders for deployment of theatre naval and air nuclear weaponry are not currently authorised by Imperial Chiefs of Staff or the Prime Minister. Happy Hunting'

Admiral Lord Dickinson II gave the order to beat to quarters. The drummer symbolically beat the drum over the intercom system as the crew were awoken and weapons systems armed. Lights appeared on the ships and carrier aircraft were prepared for flight operations, war was near as deep in the command and control rooms in the carriers and capital ships maps were rolled out and positions of the enemy fleet plotted by the aid of a RORSAT in low orbit some 200 km's above. As the crew rubbed the sleep from their eyes donning anti-flash gear and gloves, rushing to their posts as the first missile missile systems hummed into life and the arm launchers of the Broadsword Anti-Air Battlecruisers loaded up with the Sea Bolt and Sea Arrow long range SAM's, the smaller Sea Dart interceptors were packed into the VLS banks of the numerous Cavalier Class destroyers and Minister Class frigates. AWACS variant Rooks took off with Sea Shrike escorts, scouting out a perimeter to protect the carriers and capital vessels from enemy aircraft and anti-shipping weaponry.

Once the Kargucagstani navy had been sunk by the combined Royal Georgian League navies then they would starve the Kargucagstani's to death and prevent the various nations of tyranny from reinforcing the fascist state with military aid and troops, the safety of the Western border not only rested on the army and air force but now also on the guns and missile banks of the Royal Navy.

RCNS Glødende Stjerne (R489)
Approximately 147 nautical miles off Clandonia

The Cottish battlegroup was steaming at full speed, making a steady 29 knots as the ten ships made their way towards Clandonia. While the crew had yet to be fully informed of what was going on, word had trickled down that they were heading towards the shooting and that they would be joining the shooting war soon. Still, they had not yet been told to prepare themselves for anything special so the crew did their jobs as normal.

Then, at 0219 hours (local time), the Glødende Stjerne's communications room received new information. The message was downloaded to the carrier's mainframe, printed out and placed on a clipboard before a private hurried through the labyrinth of dimly lit corridors and walkways (it was in the middle of the night after all) up to the quarters of the Kontréadmiral in command of the battlegroup.

After the three swift knocks on the door, the Kontréadmiral opened his eyes and blinked a few times, clearing the sleep from them as he sat up in the bunk. As he shook his bald head to clear the final remnants of sleep from his mind, there were another set of knocks on the door. Sighing, the admiral swung his legs over the side of the bunk and planted them on the wooden deck of the stately quarters he resided in as he turned on the nightstand light and stated, "Enter!" to the unknown person or persons that seeked entrance into his quarters. The door opened and a young sailor dressed in the standard-issue fatigues - basically a BDU without the camo pattern - stepped in and came to attention, holding a clipboard in his hand. The Kontréadmiral motioned for him to come closer. The sailor took another five steps closer to the Kontréadmiral before he came to attention again.

"Ja?" [Yes?]

"Herr Kontréadmiral, vi mottok nettopp en melding, merket bare for kommandantens øyne." [Sir, we just received a message, marked Commander's eyes only.] The sailor said before presenting the clipboard to the admiral. The admiral took the clipboard from the sailor's hands and nodded to the sailor. "Takk. Tre av." [Thank you. Dismissed.]

The sailor came to attention again and stood in that position for three seconds before he preformed an about-face and walked swiftly out of the Kontréadmiral's quarters. The Kontréadmiral on the other hand read through the communiqué a few times before he put it down and sighed. It seemed that the live-fire exercises scheduled for when the Glødende Stjerne arrived at home in Cotland would not be the first time she or her battlegroup fired their deadly payload.

Half an hour later, the Kontréadmiral had gotten dressed, awoken the carrier's senior officers, briefed them on the contents of the received communiqué over coffee in his quarters, and made his way to his battle station, the Glødende Stjerne's Combat Information Centre. The CIC was a highly advanced command post where the Kontréadmiral would lead the battlegroup and its airwing from and where all information would be gathered and placed into the bigger picture. It was one of the selected few places that was manned 24/7, along with the bridge, the engine room, the armories, the galleys and the brig, just to mention a few places. The Kontréadmiral sat in his comfortable leather chair where he could monitor all the major stations and consoles. They would probably be put to good use soon, the Kontréadmiral thought as he spoke up.

"Slå klart skip til batalje. Innfør kondisjon en over hele skipet. Dette er ikke en øvelse." [Sound battle stations. Set condition one throughout the ship. This is not an exercise.]

The CIC crew looked at the Kontréadmiral for a split second, taking in the last five words he had spoken before they sprung to action.

In the crew quarters, men were abruptly awoken by the complaining klaxons and the mildly stressed male voice ordering the crew to go to their battle stations and to set condition one - the highest on-ship alert level - throughout the ship, accompanied by a warning that this wasn't an exercise like the many that had been given for the past few days, topped off with the flashing red lights. It could only mean that the Glødende Stjerne was under threat from something. The crew tried to hide their concern and worry as they swiftly gathered their battle kit and ran to their battle stations as fast as they could, putting the fire-retarding protective kit or flight suits on as they moved through the suddenly crowded red-lit corridors and walkways towards their battle stations, whether that be the bridge, the flight deck, the armory or the mess hall (which would double as a triage center if the sickbay got swamped). They weren't alone about running to their battlestations. On the escorting cruiser and destroyers, the very same thing happened.

Five minutes later, the worried crew who had made it to their battle stations only to find that they weren't being fired on (yet) received an explanation as the Kontréadmiral made an announcement over the shipwide intercom.

"God morgen. Jeg er sikker på at dere lurer på hvorfor jeg har kalt dere til kampstasjonene midt på natten, men jeg forsikrer dere om at det er en meget god grunn til det. For mindre enn en time siden mottok denne kampgruppen en beskjed hjemmefra, der Marinens Overkommando informerer oss om at Kargucagstan, en facistisk nasjon nettopp nå er i ferd med å underlegge seg en fremmed nasjon som kalles Krendakov. Dere lurer kanskje på hvorfor dette er noe vi, Cotlands nyeste og beste kampgruppe skal bry oss med. Svaret er at vi egentlig ikke bryr oss så mye om at Krendakov blir et lydrike under Kargucagstan, da Krendakov er et kommunistisk regime. Jeg vet utmerket godt hvordan dere føler det. De røde svina får som fortjent, og for alt Cotland bryr seg kan de gjerne dø i en facistisk fangeleir." [Good morning. I'm sure you're wondering why I've summoned you to battle stations in the middle of the night, but I assure you that it was done for a very good reason. Less than an hour ago, this battle group received a communiqué from home where the Naval High Command inform us that Kargucagstan, a facist nation, is in this very moment busy conquering a foreign nation called Krendakov. You may wonder why this is something that is worthy of our, Cotland's newest and best battle group's attention. The answer is that we don't really care much about whether or not Krendakov becomes a puttet state under Kargucagstan, as Krendakov is a communist regime. I know perfectly well how you feel. The red swine are getting what they deserve, for they are more than welcome to die in a facist prison camp for all Cotland cares.]

"Desverre er saken den at etterretningen mener at Kargucagstan ikke kommer til å mene at å underlegge seg Krendakov er nok. De kommer til å fortsette gjennom Krendakov og inn i Clandonia, og da skjønner dere nok at situasjonen blir litt annerledes. Vi er nemlig allierte med Clanodnia gjennom den Kongelige Georgianske Liga, og det er vår plikt som krigsmenn og menn av ære å forsvare våre allierte når de er i nød, slik det er våre alliertes plikt å forsvare oss når vi er i nød. Derfor har jeg beordret oss til kampstasjoner, da vi er kun fem timer unna Clandonisk farvann og kampsonen. Vi er fem timer unna striden." [Unfortuantely, the thing is that Military Intelligence believes that Kargucagstan won't believe that conquering Krendakov is enough. They will continue through Krendakov and right into Clandonia, and then you probably understand that the situation becomes somewhat different. You see, we're allies with Clandonia through the Royal Georgian League, and it is our duty as warriors and men of honor to defend our allies when they are in distress, as it is our allies' duty to defend us when we are in distress. This is why I have ordered us to battle stations, as we are only five hours out from Clandonian waters and the combat zone. We are five hours away from battle.]

"Dere lurer kanskje på hvordan vi, en enslig kampgruppe kan klare å holde et helt lands væpnede styrker stangen. Da sier jeg til dere at dere skal slappe av. Hans Majestet har beordret Overkommandoen til å sende ytterligere fire hangarskipsdivisjoner, inkludert vår egen, og to undervannsdivisjoner til kampsonen, sammen med amfibiestyrker og Hærens tiende Armé. Vi, mine herrer, er kun spissen av det mektige sverdet vår Konge vil svinge for å forsvare våre allierte i Clandonia, og dere vet alle at det er spissen som skaper åpningen som resten av sverdet utnytter til å drepe fienden. Ikke bare vår personlige ære, men også vår nasjonale ære, anhenger av vår innsats i de kommende timer og dager. Denne kunngjørelsen, mine herrer, er å anse som et krigsvarsel. Fra og med dette øyeblikket vil det ikke være flere falske alarmer, flere øvelser. Fra og med dette øyeblikket vil det være blodig alvor hver gang vi slår klart skip til batalje. Jeg selv, Clandonia, Marinens Overkommando, Hans Majestet Kongen, og hele det Cottiske folk forventer at vi er modne for oppgaven. Jeg lover dere nå: Vi skal ikke svikte! Vi skal seire! Gud bevare Kongen og Fedrelandet!" [You may be wondering how we, a single battlegroup, will be able to hold off the armed forces of an entire country. Then I say to you that you can relax. His Majesty has ordered High Command to dispatch another four Carrier Divisions, including our own, and two Submarine Divisions to the combat zone, along with amphibious forces and the Army's Tenth Field Army. We, gentlemen, are but the tip of the mighty sword that our King will swing to defend our Clandonian allies, and you all know that it is the tip that creates the opening that the rest of the sword use to slay the enemy. It is not only our personal honor, but also our national honor depend on our effort in the coming hours and days. This announcement, gentlemen, are to be considered a war warning. As of this moment there will be no further false alarms, no further drills. As of this moment it will be the real thing every time we sound battle stations. I myself, Clandonia, the Naval High Command, His Majesty the King and the entire Cottish people expect us to be up for the task. I promise you now: We shall not fail! We shall prevail! God save the King and the Fatherland!]

Throughout the ship, calls of "Huzzah!" and "God save the King and Fatherland!" could be heard as the freshly motivated crew stepped to their jobs with increased fervor and enthusiasm, combined with some concern for what might lie ahead for them in the next few days. Everything they had trained for was about to happen, and it was here that the many years of indoctrination and subtle propaganda came into play. Since the start of the previous century, the Cottish populace had been fed subtle propaganda that turned the Cottish King into something of a demigod, and subsequently that the King's word was sacred and that His orders be done, often with enthusiasm. After all, it isn't every day a demigod asks you to do something. So, when the crew found out that they were doing the King's bidding, they set aside all worries about war and death and replaced it with joy. After all, their king was a kind and merciful one. If he asked them to risk their lives, it had to be worth it. Right?

RCNS Jager 5881
Somewhere off Cotland

Jager 5881 was a Praetonian-made Type 81 Cavalier class destroyer, delivered seven months ago from the yards at Praetonian South Haven and serving the Royal Cottish Navy with distinction. Currently, Jager 5881 was patroling back and forth off the coastal city of Varde, where dozens upon dozens of fast cargo vessels were being filled with vehicles, men and supplies enough to last for months in battle. The bulk of the Cottish Army's 10. Army was being shipped to Clandonia to help the Clandonians out against the Kargucagstani, and to reinforce the airmobile units that were being flown to Clandonia as the Jager 5881 steamed along back and forth, looking for any unknown contact that might be a threat. Of course, the bulk of the Home Fleet were out at sea keeping Cotland's territorial waters free of unwelcome "visitors", but it never hurt to be on the safe side. Especially not when one had one of the most advanced air search radars in the fleet mounted on your ship.

The convoy would be travelling through some rather perilous waters, and as such it would have to have plenty of escorts. At any given time, it would have at least six aircraft carriers, twenty cruisers and over a hundred destroyers guarding it, as well as a number of submarines moving ahead of and behind the convoy in order to scout ahead and see if anyone followed, respectively. When the convoy would leave Varde, which was expected to happen tomorrow, it would steam towards Clandonia at full speed, somewhere between 25 and 28 knots, but it would still take several weeks to reach Clandonia. Until the 500,000 strong 10. Army arrived, the Clandonians, Praetonians and advanced elements of the 10. Army would be on their own.

HUSKY 247
T-31A Kondor, Royal Cottish Air Force
Somewhere over the Omz Sea

The lumbering T-31A Kondor, the Royal Cottish Air Force's principal strategic transport aircraft, lumbered through the skies over the rather large Omz Sea, heading directly for Clandonia. The Kondor had just finished refilling its fuel tanks from refueling aircraft operating out of the Praetonian colony of Shrewshire, making sure it and the other thirty-one Kondors in this flight had enough to reach the Clandonian airbases. HUSKY flight was a flight of thirty-two of the massive Kondor airlifters carrying much of the equipment of the Royal Cottish Army's 12. Luftlandedivisjon, which was among the first units sent to reinforce the Clandonians. The Kondors and their even bigger brothers the T-38A Kossakk were airlifting in vehicles, helicopters, munitions, equipment and supplies enough for the rapid reaction units to fight for extended periods of time, while the personnel were being airlifted in by commercial airliners chartered from CotAir, the Cottish state-owned national airline.

HUSKY flight was but one of many flights being undertaken by the Cottish in order to send troops and supplies to Clandonia post-haste to reinforce the Cottish allies against the expected hostile attack, which was expected any moment now. Due to the expectence that hostilities would be initiated any moment now, the Air Force had sent along a substantial escort, mostly FA-16A Priest multirole fighters and FA-77A Kovas air superiority fighters, as well as EB-177A Coldun electronic warfare fighterbombers and FB-177A Barsuk medium bombers, some EP-191B Aurora AWACS aircraft and a sizable amount of KP-191E Starkeeper tankers to support this logistically demanding airlift. The bulk of the 7. Air Group, the Royal Cottish Air Force's expeditionary arm, were being dispatched to Clandonia. Over 3,000 fighters, 800 bombers, hundreds of tankers, UAVs and transports and dozens of AWACS aircraft were being dispatched to assist the Clandonians.

Cotland was going all-in in the defense of its ally. Anything less would be an affront to Cottish national honor.

Sunday Afternoon, Rural Aigosthena, Dominion of Cyptra (http://img169.imageshack.us/img169/7519/cyptralocationsn1.png) (Mid-Eastern Haven)

"...and the Foreign Office has officially delivered a letter of protest from the Senior Cabinet to the Doomani government. More international news at the top of the hour. This is HBC Radio Cyptra."

"Turn that crap off." Severus Livius growled at his younger brother, Hadrianus. "God will silence them all soon enough."

The Livius Brothers and their long-time friend and religious compatriot Gnaeus Marcellus busily toiled under the hot Cyptran sun. They loaded sack after sack into the trailer of a semi-truck owned by the Brothers' uncle. The sound of them walking on the loose gravel went unheard - no one was at the building during the weekends. The Hamptonian converts to Doomani Catholicism, three of less than forty thousand in the entire United Realms, were all alone.

"So we put the boxes of roofing nails along the walls, right?" Gnaeus asked Severus as he pitched a large sack of explosives to the older brother.

"Yes, right along the walls. Anything else we can find around in the warehouse to join the nails would be nice too."

Hadrianus strained to pull the sacks into position in the large trailer. Unlike his athletic brother Hadrianus was always considered the runt, always the one to be pushed and bossed around by his forceful sibling. In fact, if not for his older brother he would never have converted to Doomani Catholicism and changed his name. Any resentment, though, was gone today. Severus had talked the local Doomani priest (and local Manus Dei coordinator) into allowing Hadrianus to be the truck's driver. Today he was to do God's work; tomorrow he would be looking upon the face of God in eternal paradise.

"Hadrian, get your head in the game." Gnaeus yelled. He wanted to finish up on the truck soon so he and Severus could put the final touches on their cars. "We have to finish before nightfall. It is a three hundred mile drive to Leontopolis and we have to get there on time." Severus jumped into the trailer to help his brother move the bags. They were nearly done getting them all in, but arranging the bags and boxes and strapping them down would still take a few hours. "I think you can go work on the cars. Make sure the fuses are set up correctly and the birdshot pellets are packed around the bombs." He told Gnaeus.

-----

Mid-Morning, Monday, Leontopolis, Dominion of Cyptra

Despite the general feeling of anxiety about war, the bustling capital city of Cyptra went about its day like any other. By mid-morning the metropolis of more than thirty million souls was already deep in work. Children were at school, financial workers looking after untold billions of kroner, mailmen making early rounds, everyone was busy during their part to keep the wheels of the great city turning smoothly. The gleaming towers of glass and steel were monuments to prosperity and freedom. While Cyptra had its problems, namely the success of separatists parties in the Dominion's government, Leontopolis was larger than the Dominion. Each day increased its importance and profile in Haven.

Along the south bank of the River Turchese in the center of the city was the Financial Core. Banks, insurance companies and other financial institutions clustered together in the area to build their Mid-Eastern Haven headquarters. The two highlights of the district were the Cyptran Energy Exchange Complex (CEEC) and the Palazzo d'Amministrazione Reale, seat of the Dominion's Governor-General and center of Imperial administration in Cyptra. The CEEC straddled both sides of Fifth of August Avenue, the main street in the area. Within the post-modern buildings thousands of traders dealt in petroleum, natural gas and other fossil fuel futures and contracts.

Next to the Complex on the north side of the Avenue stood the magnificent granite and marble Palazzo. This morning the Duchess of The Ragaemon, Cyptra's Governor-General, was in a delicate meeting with representatives of the Dominion's major domestic parties. The separatist and racist Christian Social League, who lead a minority government, were attempting to delay the late July election. The opposition, united under a single banner, were finally able to take their protests straight to the Governor-General. The importance and level of tension in the meeting were unusual, but by and large is was just another day in the heart of Leontopolis.

None of the people out for their mid-morning smoking breaks or just walking around paid any attention to the semi parked between the two landmarks. Hadrianus closed his eyes in prayer and repeated a simple phrase again and again - "Thy will be done, in earth as it is in heaven." He opened his eyes and scanned the phases in a nearby courtyard. He locked eyes with a young woman in her late twenties. He thought she was very attractive; her eyes were a brilliant blue. "Maybe we'll meet in the life beyond" he whispered to himself before he pushed the large yellow button he had installed yesterday.

Faster than anyone could think or comprehend more than seventy thousand pounds of TNT equivalent explosives went off. Everything and everyone within five hundred feet was gone in the blink of an eye. Death, injury and destruction radiated out for more than a quarter of a mile. Further out shrapnel and glass wounded, while buildings and people shaken by the shockwaves. Police, firefighters and ambulances were quick to respond; within ten minutes scores of first responders were rushing to the blast site. At one intersection just outside of the zone several fire engines, a dozen ambulences, and thirty police officers quickly organized a field meeting to coordinate efforts. None of them noticed the park car turn on and slowly creep toward their position. When they were nearly ready to disperse Gnaeus sped up and detonated his birdshot encased bombs as close as possible to the center of the intersection.

At the same time thousands of office workers began to calmly, but hurriedly, walked away from the blast site. Several hundred used the Otto Meyers Tunnel to get to safety on the north bank of the Turchese. These men and women of all shapes, sizes and ages filed past parked and abandoned cars. They all kept their eyes forward or to the ground. None of them noticed that one car still had a driver behind the wheel. They wanted to go home. Severus wanted them to go to hell. With a push of a button both groups' hopes were dashed.


-----

Within minutes of the initial attack networks across the United Realms and most of Haven cut to the disaster. The two smaller follow-up attacks were both caught live on camera. It was a horrifying image to see. Within minutes the city core was plunged into chaos. The attack had also left the Dominion politically crippled. The Governor-General and her designated deputy, Admiral Commandant Sir Piero Nicolosi, were both burned, cut, bruised and buried under rubble. The government minister in charge of internal affairs was dead and hundreds of bureaucrats wiped off the scene. Simultaneously emails went sent by the 'local Doomani priest' to news outlets in the Dominion - no one would have to guess who was responsible for the attacks.

Cyptra's Premier, Leonzio Sciacchitano, was rushed from a meeting with the State of Leontopolis' legislature to a secure bunker facility. Other government ministers raced to disaster response centers. Meanwhile the buildings burned and crumbled, the people cried and died.

Pandemonium was the only power left on the streets this morning.

-----

"This is HBC Radio One. As we all now know the city of Leontopolis has been attacked by Doomani terrorists. An initial extremely explosion, or series of explosions, ripped through the financial and administrative heart of the Cyptran capital. Additional smaller attacks have occurred immediately outside the first blast zone. Numerous other attacks have been reported but none confirmed; officials do not yet know the precise security condition of the city.

'First responders and reporters on the scene say that most of the Cyptran Energy Exchange Complex and Palazzo d'Amministrazione Reale have been destroyed. Other buildings in the immediate area have at least partially collapsed and are on fire. Reports and estimates from the Leontopolis Police Department place the number of casualties at between ten and thirty thousand. We stress that these are extremely early estimates, but the time of the blast would have had the buildings filled to near capacity with employees.

'Sources within the Dominion's government tell HBC that there has been no contact within anyone inside the Palazzo d'Amministrazione Reale. The Governor-General was meeting with several officials at the time including the Cyptra Vice Premier, Leader of the Opposition, State Minister of Home Affairs, and Admiral Commandant Sir Piero Nicolosi Commander-in-Chief, Imperial United Command - Mid Eastern Haven. Premier Leonzio Sciacchitano was immediately taken to a secure government facility outside of the city.

'One of our first correspondents on the scene, Natalie Anderson, is talking now with Deputy Fire Chief Morra. Natalie, what has Deputy Chief Morra said about recovery efforts...."

Allanean Havenic Command, two kilometers under Port Allanea

"Marshal, we have now commenced Operation Keyhole."

"Very well. I want you to proceed accordingly. Order the naval forces in the Strob and Axackal to converge upon Paralentum. It is time, my friends. Let us avenge Najaster."

The room beyond the threshold was dim. A covered lamp provided just enough light to outline the silhouettes of the four men sitting around the table, the rest of the chamber veiled in smoky darkness. The man who had opened the door for Barnabas slipped aside, and was barely visible in the peripheral shadow. The visitor removed his hat, and sat down in the last free seat.
+++"We're glad you could make it," said one of them, in a form of Ancient Greek.
+++"As am I," Barnabas responded.
+++"Any news?" another asked.
+++"Grandmother very much appreciated the gift. She sends her thanks and best wishes." An murmur of happy tone flowed around the table at this fortuitous news.
+++"That's the whole family, then. I'm glad we're all on good terms these days," said the man who had first spoken. Nods followed. "Now, there are some other family matters to tend to," he continued, folding his hands in front of him.


The meeting progressed late. Forbidden from walking the streets during curfew, the men slept on cots in the room, rising early and hiding them away once more, before they left for their perichoras' headquarters.

Georgetown,
Cape King George

Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame:
All their attempts to bend thee down,
Will but arouse thy generous flame;
But work their woe, and thy renown!

The music drifted in from the streets, where the massed bands of the Cape Guards' Division were proceeding with regal splendour through the high streets, strangely devoid of cars and bustling shoppers replaced by endless crowds of cheering, flag-waving day-trippers, to Government House, where the High Commissioner to the Cape and the Lord Mayor would play their part in the celebrations. It was the King's birthday. And to the inhabitants of the Cape, that was all that really mattered. The King was on His throne, God was in His heaven, and all was well with the world. They had already built their Great Society, that would allow each to live according to his choosing, and they had little desire to engage themselves in any way with the outside world.

And yet, beyond the pearly cliffs that marked the limits of so much of the Praetannic world, there were, across the sea, threats to their way of life that could not be ignored. The Cape was itself the creation of a foreign policy designed first and foremost to allow the mainland not to concern itself with foreigners if it did not want to. Jutting into the Haven Strait, it provided a forward outpost for the Imperial Navy. In times that had yet to receede from recent memory, the great Cape Fleet stood ready to engage with the great and powerful Scandavian Navy, whose fame was said to match that of King George's Navy, and the outcome of any battle would have been far from certain.

Now, however, the Fleet was reduced to a Squadron, and the grand processions of carriers that once took weeks to fully empty into the Bay for the King's semi-regular Fleet Reviews now took merely days, on the rare occassions the Fleet was any longer Reviewed here at all. Nonetheless, the Cape Squadron was powerful enough to intimidate the regional powers of the surrounding area, and that was well enough for they were numerous and of dubious character.

While Praetonia was 'liberal in the old style,' much of the continent was consumed by collectivism. Krendakov, Kargucagstan, Edolia... these countries may feud with one another with great and sincere passion, as protestants once did with catholics, but what should not be forgotten was that they all shared the same fundamental outlook - that the state knew best. To Praetonia the very notion was fundamentally alien. They did not care whether it was race and nation or the proletariat who should be the favourite group of the almighty government; for all their flag-waving they would take up arms against any government that dared even ask such a question.

Thus the continent was simply shut out, as far as possible. A huge artificial canal had been dug across the border between the Cape and Candiro, making the Praetonian enclave to all intents and purposes an island a few dozen metres from the Candiran 'mainland'. The navy had swollen to an immense size in an attempt to deter aggression, protect the trade lanes and coerce the King's enemies. And the mainland had stayed quiet for so long, it had gradually disappeared from the public consciousness. There had even been talk of withdrawing the Praetonian Expeditionary Force in Clandonia. Now the continent had errupted with a sudden and unexpected fury, and the alarmed public were demanding action, not just out of moral principle, as in Doomingsland, but out of a basic sense of self-preservation, and a fervent desire to return to the old world - a world in which the continent could be safely ignored.

We don't want to fight but by Jingo if we do,
We've got the ships, we've got the men, we've got the money too!

This time it was the voice of the crowd, not the band, that could be heard in the hallways of General Headquarters Cape Squadron.

"I have come from Kingston directly," the High Commissioner said, returning to the table from having closed the large Regency-style windows, "where I met with the King and the Prime Minister. They intimated to me that a lasting settlement is to be found in this war."

He opened his briefcase, and extracted a map of the locale. He laided it out on the oak desk, and the assembled Air Marshals, Admirals and Field Marshals craned their necks to get a better look. The High Commissioner placed a paper-weight at each corner to prevent the map rolling up on itself, and placed his finger on Kargucagstan.

"Georgeland." The military men nodded approvingly.

"His Majesty thought it an appropriate name for a country that will have aggressed against the League. Cotland has indicated that her support will be forthcoming on this, a League matter."

"I'm sure," Admiral of the Fleet Sir Percival Warrington sounded bemused, "But we are being somewhat forward, High Commissioner. There is the matter of invasion to attention to, and before that securing the Sound for our purposes."

The High Commissioner smiled. "That is not my concern, Admiral. I have been specifically instructed by Cabinet not to allow any pre-emptive assault upon the Kargucag navy. The red line should first -"

"Of course, Commissioner, I am quite aware of the government's position on this matter.

"Our reconnaissance aircraft have detected significant Kargucag presence in the Sound, and the principal concentration of ships are headed for the Cape. It may be that they do not intend to have the situation unfold according to War Office plans."

The High Commissioner looked somewhat concerned. "Well. They are merely foreigners. Their navy is of little concern."

"Quite, High Commissioner, they do not possess what one might call a 'serious' navy. They do not, for instance, possess a single aircraft carrier. Their navy consists principally of fast attack craft, and its capital systems are significantly battleships.

"The force was clearly designed for operations in the South, perhaps against Candiro as No Endorse is an ally. By removing themselves from the shallow waters and sheltering islands of the Sound they leave themselves fatally exposed. Our fleet is at sea in the mouth of the Sound and they do not possess the aerial reconnaissance required to locate it.

"Nonetheless, our political imperative not to involve ourselves if it can at all be helped in a continental war leaves the Cape itself, which cannot be hidden or disguised, open to an initial strike."

The Praetonian force had adopted a diffuse pattern. Squadrons of County class attack cruisers were positioned forward with their attendant Cavalier class destroyers, spread every few dozen kilometers across the mouth of the Sound. A hundred kilometers or so out, the carriers stood ready to respond to events, sheltered from an initial strike by the squadrons set forward. In total about 400 vessels were deployed in this manner, the remainder of the 1,750 strong squadron either on the usual patrol work in the Haven Strait, or in maintenance at the Cape. In the Sound itself, SSKs prowled, and in the deeper water of the mouth and the Strait proper, SSNs hunted for foreign submarines. Carrier Air Patrols and Carrier and land-based AWACs from the Cape kept a careful eye on all that went on beneath.

The Cape itself was not fortified to the seaward side to anywhere near the extent of the Doomani islands at Paralentum. This was partially in ackowledgement of the limitations of fixed fortifications - missile batteries were immobile and impossible to hide, and could be struck from beyond the range of reply. But partially it was ideological. Successive governments held that great civilisations that hid themselves behind high walls did so because they did not dare go out to meet the enemy in the plains, and was therefore in or heading towards a state of terminal decline. 'Afterall,' went the argument, 'why worry about the borders of the Cape, when it is protected by the mightiest navy on the face of the earth?'

"Will there by civilian casualties?" The High Commissioner asked, at last.

"Most certainly," this time it was Field Marshal Andrew Alexander who spoke, "The cities are built around the naval bases. It is improbable that, even if the enemy is attempting to avoid civilian casualties, there will be no collatoral damage. And I must stress that I see no reason why such an anti-humanist regime as the one we are facing should have any care for the neutrality of non-combatants."

The High Commissioner nodded.

"You may have noticed that there are a great many more air raid shelters in private gardens now than when you departed, High Commissioner," Air Marshal Havers added.

"We do have the advantage of missile defence from the navy ships in port, and those in only limited maintenance," Admiral Warrington continued, "and I assure you, High Commissioner, that once the war breaks out the Kargucag navy will have a very short life expectancy indeed."

The High Commissioner stood up, and the military officers followed. "I trust that it shall be so, Percival.

"Now, I must join the celebrations. God Save the King."

The officers saluted as the High Commissioner began to leave. "God Save the King!"

Breaking News From HBC Online
HBC.hts

http://img176.imageshack.us/img176/3623/2605e3c9781a54925c3f6fbhy2.jpg
A small Royal Navy task force underway in the Ambrose Sea.
The Royal Navy has been ordered to halt all Doomani shipping.

United Realms At War
Royal Congress issues Declaration of War against the Imperium Doomanum

This is Breaking News

The following is the speech delivered by Chancellor Wolfgang Hayek to a joint session of the Royal Congress at Østklint Palace. In an emergency vote after the speech all three houses of the Royal Congress voted by unanimous consent to declare war.


Mr. Consul, Mr. President, members of the Royal Senate, Federal Council and Chamber of Representatives: This morning the United Realms of the Hamptonian Empire was subjected to a horrendous and deliberate terrorist attack. The perpetrators of this attack were acting with the approval and support of the Doomani regime. It was an attack against innocent civilians by agents of an insidious government.

The United Realms, while not on the friendliest terms with that government, was at still at peace with the Doomani. The Royal Navy had been ordered to intensify its anti-slavery patrols, but the basic policies of those international patrols have been in place for more than a century. Without warning and without provocation the Doomani have steadily expanded this conflict toward our shores. Earlier this week a civilian Hamptonian airliner in international airspace was forced to land by the Doomani in their territory of Nuclearum. Our citizens, including one of the two Proconsuls of the Royal Senate and a Minister of State, have been taken prisoner.

Now, encouraged and financed by the regime and its religio-fascist elements, one of the great cities of our empire has been bloodied. In Leontopolis, authorities and medical workers will be counting the dead, dying, and injured for days. The attack was carefully planned over an extended time period. The Doomani agents struck at a time they knew would have the buildings crowded with workers. Their follow up attacks were designed to hit as many survivors as possible. It is clearly evident that the Doomani have been planning this attack for some time.

In accordance with Section 19 of the Constitutional Act, Her Majesty at noon today ordered naval and air assets of the United Realms to attack and sink all Doomani flagged vessels in international waters. Her Majesty and the Senior Cabinet have directed that all practical and reasonable measures be taken for the defense of our empire.

We must not be mistaken: We have been forced into the most terrible of circumstances - war. The Doomani regime has crossed the line of all redemption and compromise. It is a monstrous state with horrific goals. While we did not want this war, it is now our solemn duty to fight it. We now must pledge our honor, lives, and fortunes to the eradication of such terror and evil.

The Senior Cabinet of the Federal Government has recommended to Her Majesty that she ask the Royal Congress to declare that a state of war exists between the United Realms and the Doomani regime. I ask that the Congress recognize these attacks for what they are - acts of war committed against our people and government.

Our principal conditions for peace with the Doomani regime include the extradition of the so-called Doomani pope. He must be made to stand trial for the Leontopolis attacks. He must be made to answer for his calls for religious and racial war. The United Realms also demands the return of WorldAir Flight 4261, its crew, and all of its passengers. The cessation of all Havenic slave trading, both foreign and domestic, is a prerequisite to any peace talks.

The Royal Armed Forces, hand in hand with the determined spirit of our people and allies, will bring us true and lasting victory. I believe that I would be correct to say that we all, Member of Royal Congress and private citizen alike, will accept nothing less.


In Leontopolis the current casualty count is: 4,380 dead, 6,849 injured. Leonzio Sciacchitano has placed the city under martial law and declared a Dominion-wide State of Emergency. The Imperial Affairs Office has confirmed that Viceroy of the Havenic Dominions Sir Geoff Kirkssen is flying from Oltremare to Cyptra to take over Imperial administration on an interim basis. HBC can confirm the status of the following members of government:
Dead
Lady Karolina Hjalmardóttir, Duchess of the Ragaemon - Governor-General of the Dominion of Cyptra
Angelos Kanakaredes - Vice Premier of the Dominion of Cyptra; Leader of the Government in the National Assembly
Jovan Dahl - Leader of the Opposition in the National Assembly
Margarida Arvanitis - State Minister of Home Affairs

Injured: Intensive Care
Admiral Commandant Sir Piero Nicolosi - Commander-in-Chief, Imperial United Command - Mid Eastern Haven; Imperial Rapporteur for Cyptra (Acting Governor-General of Cyptra)
Sonja Niequist - Attorney-General of Cyptra

Statement by the Freehold of Mondoth
http://i226.photobucket.com/albums/dd139/PWOTsTheMan/mondothflag.png

Mondoth's stake in this conflict is small, our economic interests are not infringed by the existence, or potential end of a Havenic slave trade. However, this conflict has polarized the region, our allies are divided and what should be a political and economic conflict has become military. After much debate, it comes time for the national commission to voice its opinion on the growing conflict that rages in this region.
First and foremost, the Mondothian government does not now, nor will it ever condone slavery as a legitimate practice. However, the Freehold has traditionally recognized all nations right to free trade and free business where Mondothian interests are not infringed. As such, the commission has decided to continue with our current stance which holds that slave traders will not be treated differently than any other merchant entering Mondothian waters.
As for the armed conflict, Mondoth's allies are too divided, and our stake in this fight too small, as such Mondoth will not participate in pro- or anti- slavery conflict and officially declare our neutrality.

Meanwhile, at the Gebua Marine Garrison

“So Ahmed, who do you think we'll be fighting?”
“ What makes you think there'll be fightin', those guys from out west? Nah, it's just some damn training exercise, hush-hush like.”
“What are ya, stupid? Haven's going down the shitter, you don't mobilise a lot troops an the sly during a time like this unless theres gonna be some fightin.”
“Nah, didn't you see the news? We're neutral in this one, probably just showin a little muscle make sure it sticks.”

Hurry up and wait, the motto of armed forces everywhere, doubly so before a fight.
The station had been fully mobilized for months, rotations canceled along with leisure time, Nothing but training. At the same time, inland garrisons were also mobilizing, troops heading east to the coast. Everyone was moving fast, Troop trains were running double-time to reinforce marine garrisons. But once they got there, all there was to do was wait, and be ready for the next move.


Sic:
Message tot he Governor of Estonsko
from: the Mondothian National Commission
Via: DFC-1237
Encrypt: Public
Decrypt: ******

The Freehold requests that Cohenian nuclear weapons and military forces be removed from the islands with 24hrs. The Freehold will claim the Cohenian Estonsko Islands as Mondothian territory and any Cohenian military troops or equipment left after that time will be considered forfeit.

-Commissioner's Office of Havenic Affairs

[OOC: Still need to reply to Cotland's ship thing and Kstan, and post about the situation in Praetonian South Haven. But, this post is already huge and I'm getting fed up with it.]

[OOC: I'm assuming you're referring to my statement here (http://www.forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13770222&postcount=24), where my government requests permission to fight alongside Praetonian and allied forces. As such, I'll put in a post detailing some policy debates and include a reference to something we discussed on IRC.]

IC:

The government of Kahanistan had been through much in the past two years. Elections, fighting off Kraven invasions, displacement, genocide, more elections, war, more genocide, more elections, more war, and now, more change.

These days were no different. Kahanistan was still very much in transition, from a socialist state to a more capitalistic economy, from an interventionist state to an isolationist one back to interventionism, and seemed now to be turning into everything its elected leadership had promised not to turn it into.

Under Praetonian protection, Kahanistan's economy had become stronger than it was before the wars when it was socialist. Immigration was widely encouraged despite the concerns of some extremists of diluting culture or allowing inferior races to mingle with superior ones. The improved economy also led to the development of fine new weaponry like the Gilgamesh air superiority fighter or the Yukhunt anti-shipping missile. But, all was not peaceful in Kahanistan.

New Masada, Capital of Kahanistan

Green Party Senator and former senate president Mohammed Hussein Abdullah had just finished explaining why Kahanistan should issue a statement in the name of the Senate and People of Kahanistan denouncing its old ally Van Luxemburg for handing over a good chunk of territory to Romandeos, and the senate discussion was switching to more military matters.

Senator Zahar al-Wahoush of the centrist Democratic party stepped to the podium of the Senate Hall to speak. "I move for... approaching the Praetonian government with a proposal. We recruit half a million men and women, train them or take volunteers from the military and reserves, and offer to contribute to the Praetonian war on slavery in Haven. In exchange, we would ask for enough land in Nuclearum to establish a series of military bases and communities for the troops."

"Epic fail, Mr. Wahoush," replied Senator Melissa Romero, acting chair of the Anti-Catholic Party. "First of all, it has always been my policy to avoid using Doomani names for our territories. Secondly, we would in effect be trading claims to the rest of our land for the right to intervene in a limited fashion in a larger war, and historically, our interventions do not go well."

Much of the Senate looked at her like she had just spoken in Akkadian. A few snickers could be heard throughout the Senate Hall. Finally, one of the Senators spoke to her.

"Miss Romero, this is the first time I've heard a fifty-two-year-old woman say 'epic fail' in actual conversation," said Walid al-Hamad, one of the most extreme nationalist senators. "I agree with your position fully. In fact, I would go even further and say that we should take what's rightfully ours, that we shouldn't go through the Praetonians. We'd be attacking the Cottish, the TPF'ians, the Northfordians... Boy George won't assent to it, nor should we ask his permission to return to our own land."

"I respect your position," said Alyssa Petrova, the Senate president. "But squatting on land given to you by an occupier, as the Cottish, et cetera, do with land occupied by the Doomani, is not a casus belli." She, too, was a Nationalist, albeit a more moderate one. "Besides, we are improving our relations with them; it is unwise to attack them. We're talking about polluted, radioactive sludgy land we deliberately destroyed to make unusable to the Questarian Commonwealth. Do you really want a war over it?"

"No," said al-Hamad. "I say we jump the Doomies while they're down, while they're busy defending their slave trading routes. Seize their ships, repatriate the slaves, and watch their economy collapse when the average Doomie refuses to do slave work and their garbage piles up and their infrastructure rots. Let's say it's not over Havenic Kahanistan. Let's say it's over the Middle East. It's not a radioactive hell hole."

Petrova shook her head slightly. She didn't want war any more than 90% of the Senate did. "I personally support Mr. Wahoush's idea. We have neither a strategic interest in Nuc - " She stopped herself. "Havenic Kahanistan, nor a compelling political interest to sacrifice millions of troops in a long, bloody, unwinnable war over a giant, glorified pile of radioactive glop. War debates can wait. Miss Romero, you have the floor."

The slim, well-preserved woman stepped down to the podium from her seat. "I'd like to call a vote on a bill I've recently sponsored, the Population Restoration Act of 2008. It sets aside funding for the creation of a Bureau of Population Restoration to investigate ways to replenish our population from the last few wars."

"I second," said Karim Muhammad Assam, a communist. He rarely agreed with anything from the Anti-Catholic Party.

"Very well," said Petrova. "Let's vote."

After fifteen minutes, during which senators read over a draft version of the bill, it was voted in, 2321 to 653, 26 abstentions. One dissident was al-Wahoush.

"How are we going to restore our population by throwing a few billion shekels at it?" he asked. "Certainly, if someone here has any ideas, let's hear them."

"That's what the bureau's for," said Romero. "It's a full-time job to come up with these ideas."

"Bill is passed, will be submitted to the President for signing," said Petrova. "Shall we vote on Mr. Wahoush's proposal for a Praetonian legion of Kahanistanians?"

"I second," said Assam.

Petrova nodded to one of the Senate pages, who handed out copies of the exact proposal of Wahoush - to raise half a million volunteers for a proposed Praetonian legion to fight against Havenic slavers without violating the treaty with Praetonia about waging aggressive warfare. This bill passed, after a round of negotiations in which the references to "Nuclearum" were edited and references to its final status were removed, by a much narrower majority, 1807 to 940, with 253 abstentions.

"We will... approach the Praetonians with this proposal, if the President signs," said Petrova. If she did, which was more than likely, the Praetonians would be presented with the proposal, which, if they accepted, would allow thousands of volunteers from Kahanistan to fight alongside the Praetonians.

"I move we call for a vote of no confidence in President Sklenova," said al-Hamad. "She's promised to keep us socialist and she's letting the Praetonians have more and more influence. Now, I'm not a communist, Allah forbid, but if she's not even keeping the most central promise of her campaign, how can we expect her to keep the Doomani off our doorstep? I respect that she's a war hero and I should have more respect, but I think her experiences have damaged her, psychologically. She isn't the warrior she once was, the same woman who destroyed Kraven. That woman would have sent the Praetonians packing, and the Questarian fleet to the bottom of the sea where it belongs."

King's Cross Railway Station
Central Laurana, Cravan

It was mid morning in the Gem of the Empire, and news of the bombing in Hamptonian Cyptra had not yet broken in its entirety. At King's Cross it was a fairly normal morning as the residents of Laurana went about their routines. The second morning shift was about to begin clocking in while the morning commute was in full swing; an influx of millions into the city over the course of a few hours. King's Cross was but one of countless hubs of transportation spilling souls into Laurana.

One individual in particular, however, had intentions a fair distance away from the mundane routine those around him were taking. He was a tall, young man with a strikingly dark appearance. With well-trimmed jet black hair and sharp features, he conveyed an appearance of what one might consider "normal" by the standards of a modern western society. His suit was of a modest cut, dark charcoal in color, and his dark hazel eyes which darted about nervously were concealed by the two reflective oval scones which sat attached to a thin, fashionable frame. Lifting his sunglasses for a moment to get a better hold of his surroundings, he again returned them to his face as he entered the central rotunda of the train station. The sun shone through a wide and crystal clear glass roof which hung over the heart of the terminal.

Amadeus Benedict was this man's name. A resident of the small town of Trenton located almost a full one hundred miles outside the city limits of Laurana, he had traveled most of the night by train to arrive in the city. He was tired, but his mission still required some labors ahead as he hoisted his precious cargo and exited the terminal. In his left hand he carried a cello case, an instrument which he happened to be very adept at. Inside the case, however, was not a cello but instead a refitted C2 rifle built to military specifications and modified for quick and easy assembly to allow for a covert carry. On his back was a pack which contained a wad of C4 plastic explosive and the appropriate detonation materials. He had every intention of using both of these weapons to a fairly devastating effect.

Throughout the duration of the morning, Benedict made his way towards the central historical section of the city through the use of the Laurana Metro. He had carefully planned his route two nights before, and his final stop found him at the corners of The Havenic Avenue and 56th Street, where the morning traffic still dominated the streets as taxi cabs, buses, and private transport crowded the lanes.

Amadeus turned to face a towering structure which sat a short ways away from the subway station. It was the Royal Arms Hotel of Laurana, considered one of the finest hotels in the entirety of Cravan and perhaps the region at large. Cooly walking through the front doors into the magnificent lobby, Benedict approached the front desk.

"Reservations for one Benedict," he said to the clerk. Looking up from her book, the clerk smiled.

"First name?"

"Amadeus."

"Welcome to the Royal Arms, sir," she said while turning her eyes to a computer screen on the desk and typing in to fill a few fields quickly, "It appears your room is ready."

The clerk handed over his room key, and noticed Benedict's case.

"Are you a musician," she asked while trying to incite some small talk.

"Why, yes. I am," Benedict replied with a degree of pride, "I play the cello."

"A beautiful instrument," she responded, "Have a pleasant stay, Mr. Benedict."

-------

One Hour Later
Royal Arms Hotel of Laurana
Room 750

Amadeus watched the news reports maintain thorough coverage over the crisis in Hamptonshire with delight as he laid out the pieces to his custom-built C2 rifle across the second bed in his room. He had already set up his do-not-disturb door hanger such that he would not be interrupted during his preparations. Up until this point his plan had been thoroughly thought out and planned. He had timed his arrival in Laurana to be in tune with when the daily routine was at its peak to allow himself to get situated amidst the controlled chaos of the city; the addition of a bombing in Hamptonshire only assisted his cause. He had even chosen the only room in the Royal Arms Hotel which provided the perfect view of the Palace of Lancaster: the home of the Houses of Parliament. With enthusiasm he assembled his rifle carefully and cleanly, taking care while putting the heavy barrel in place. Finally, he attached his Lenton OpticTech scope to the upper rail of his C2, and set to work sighting it in for the courtyard in front of the Palace. With his laser rangefinding binoculars, he calibrated his scope for the range accordingly and hoped it was an accurate calculation. Cursing to himself as he realized he had forgotten his silencer, he knew he would simply have to make haste to leave the premises as the inevitable search for a gunman would consume the surrounding area.

Amadeus had already set up the C4 explosives with a long-range remote detonator. He had packaged them to appear harmless and inserted them into a postbox just down the road from the hotel. There was enough explosive material inside the package to deal a considerable amount of damage within a radius of perhaps one hundred to two hundred feet, but nothing compared to the blast in Hamptonshire. Even so, it would prove to be a good distraction to cover his retreat and eventual exit from the city.

-------

Palace of Lancaster Courtyard

"Good morning, Mr. Director," an attendant said as he helped Director of Defense Mellow out of his car.

"Morning, Alex. How's things in these parts?"

"Quiet," the young man responded, "Surprisingly considering the attack in Hamptonshire."

"You can say that again," the older man said gruffly as he gathered his things and straightened his sport coat. "You have a good one, Alex."

"Thanks, sir. You too."

Mellow cautiously made his way up the steps of the front entrance of the Palace of Lancaster, rising with a small amount of pain each time as he was gradually losing a battle with arthritis in both his knees. With each step he grew increasingly wary of his surroundings: everything seemed normal, but something wasn't right. The white hairs on the back of his neck eerily stood on end and a slight chill came over his body.

------

Amadeus had waited for the better part of two hours before catching a glimpse of the black car which pulled into the Palace drive. He immediately recognized the man who stepped out: an aging Director of Defense James Mellow. Benedict crept up on his rifle as the tingling feeling in the pit of his gut intensified to its highest point that day. It was now or never.

As he closed his left eye and raised his rifle as much as the window would allow, it was limited in how much it could open but opened enough such that Amadeus was able to aim out from a relatively comfortable prone position, Benedict sighted himself in and centered his crosshair on the shimmering silver mane which concealed the Director's head. He held his breath, and began counting down from five while thinking about things which would soothe him as he committed his crime. The first thought to appear in his mind was the meaning of his given name: Amadeus; God's love.

With a forceful crack, his rifle discharged. The recoil caused the rifle to lurch up and strike the bottom of the window frame, causing a crack to form in the pane of glass. Disoriented for a moment from the impact of his rifle's barrel on the frame, Benedict regained knowledge of his surroundings and set to work making haste to leave. He quickly disassembled his rifle, hastily shoving it into its case and latching it shut. He knew that his beloved rifle would be a hazard to his own safety out on the street, and thusly decided he would ditch it at the first janitorial closet he could find two floors below. He gathered up what few personal belongings he had brought, left the television on, and turned on the water in the shower and the sink. He left the furniture he had rearranged to use as a rest for himself at the window as they were, as he deemed rearranging them back to their original configuration would take far too long.

Making his way into the hallway, Benedict removed a compact pistol from his jacket. He motioned for individuals who had come from their rooms to investigate the gunshot to return inside, and made his way for the stairwell. Descending two flights, he dropped his cello case into a janitor's closet near the stairwell and continued his descent.

------

The young attendant known as Alex perked up upon the sound of a gunshot, and turned in shock to see the Director's head disappear in a flash of red tissues. His body crumpled to the marble steps, and his blood stained the white marble with a crimson hue. Without hesitation guards posted in discrete positions around the palace sprung to action and set to work securing the area and determining exactly what had just happened. Two armed guards jumped from the sentry checkpoint located at the front of the drive and dragged the attendants and staff to cover as they ensured their C24 assault rifles were at the ready.

The response from emergency services was actually very rapid in nature, one of the few things that could be said positively about the municipal government of Laurana. Metropolitan Police were on the scene within minutes, and the area was cordoned off even further than it usually was.

Detective Roy Anderson of the Metropolitan Police, wearing a dark blue bulletproof vest with "LMPD" emblazoned in white across the back over his street clothes, exited his unmarked car and made a dash for the scene. His partner, Detective Anthony Perkins, was trailing closely.

"Any idea where the shot came from?"

"East of here," a Palace guard informed him. "It had to have come from that direction considering possible locations."

"Detective! We have reports of a gunshot over at the Royal Arms. Some people say they saw a guy waving a pistol and a case of some sort leaving the area," an officer on scene said as she ran towards the detective. "Metro Police are on the way over, I suggest you get over there, too."

------

The scene around the Royal Arms Hotel was buzzing with police units as Detective Anderson's car screeched to a halt outside. Anderson and Perkins immediately met with the officer handling the situation on the inside of the hotel.

"Any idea where he is?"

"Witnesses say the twelfth floor. We don't have a room number or a name right now. We have a team running a sweep of the twelfth floor and down."

------

The elevator stopped moving, and with a distinct "ping" the doors opened to the common waiting area of the twelfth floor. Anderson and Perkins set out with a group of other officers, guns drawn, as they made their way towards the hallway where the suspect was last spotted.

The group of officers inched their way down the hall, knocking on doors and checking occupants in their search. Finally, they came upon Room 750 where a puddle of water was creeping out from underneath the door and a "do not disturb" card hung over the doorknob.

On a count to three, Perkins kicked the door in and took point. The group of officers followed in after him. Anderson moved to shut off the water, and the group centered on the arranged furniture near the window and the crack in the open window pane.

"This is where the bastard was. Radio down to the desk and ask who was in Room 750."

"You think the guy was stupid enough to use his own name?"

"You never know," Anderson said.

------

A crowd had gathered outside the police barricades around the hotel by this point, curious as to what, exactly, was occurring in their city. One man in particular was pushing his way through the crowds in the opposite direction of the hotel while trying to maintain a low profile. Amadeus had made it out of the hotel moments before the police sectioned the building off, and now he just had to avoid detection and hope the police did not track him to discover his one-way ticket to Cotland which was due to take off in four hours' time.

As he turned a corner, Benedict reached into his jacket pocket and fumbled around for a moment casually. He reached for the detonator which he had hidden in his pocket and stroked the button cautiously while waiting for the perfect moment to press it. He continued walking casually while his sunglasses hid the moral dilemma in his eyes.

God our Father,
Your power brings us to birth,

It was now or never.

Your providence guides our lives,

Now was the time for a decision.

and by Your command we return to dust.

The surrounding city block shook violently as the postbox around the corner and down the road shattered into millions of fragments in a tremendous ball of fire. The high explosive compound located inside the box caused the metal fragments shot off to become molten hot shards of shrapnel, wreaking death and injury on passerby. Overall damage to surrounding property was minimal other than cars caught by the blast or shrapnel and windows blown out on the surrounding block, but the human loss was much more considerable. As the dust settled, several hundred lay injured and well over a few dozen were dead or dying. The scene was a bloody mess of pandemonium as calls were placed with emergency services in the area. Most of those around Amadeus rushed back towards the explosion to watch the spectacle as normal humans usually would; Benedict decided instead to watch his handiwork on the evening news in Cotland later before catching a flight to the Doomani homeland where he hoped he could seek asylum.

In company with Christ,
Who died and now lives,
may they rejoice in Your kingdom,
where all our tears are wiped away.

------

http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c381/crave22/Cravan/CBNlogocopyresize.png

Cravanian Broadcasting Network

http://i31.photobucket.com/albums/c381/crave22/Cravan/847369871_4a5dee3ef7.jpg
Emergency crews attend the recovery effort in downtown Laurana.

CBN 3
1 July


Breaking News: Terror in Downtown Laurana


"Almost an hour ago pandemonium struck as Director of Defense James Mellow was assassinated by a lone gunman perched in the Royal Arms Hotel. Authorities state that the gunman has managed to flee the scene, however they are not releasing any details on whether they know his identity or general whereabouts. Several minutes after the assassination, however, an explosive device planted down the road from the Royal Arms was detonated causing massive casualties. We go now live to the scene with field correspondent Richard Hemingway. Richard."

"Well, Marissa, details are still sketchy but as you can see behind me emergency crews have swarmed the scene which has been described as a state of absolute chaos. The death toll currently stands at over sixty-two, however the number of injured reportedly reaches into the two-hundred area currently and is still rising. The explosion is believed to have been caused by a package left in a postbox on the corner, which you can perhaps see flames which have not yet been extinguished far in the background. Emergency crews have the area sectioned off quite well, and are not allowing us near the scene until it can be declared safe. Metropolitan Police are doing their best to control the situation and direct victims and family members towards appropriate assistance, but in a scene like this control is difficult to maintain."

"Is there any reason to believe this attack may be linked to the attack witnessed in Hamptonshire earlier?"

"It's not something to be ruled out in the least bit, but details still remain unreleased and reports are sketchy. There's no way of knowing at this time if they are related."

"Thank you, Rich. We'll be back with more coverage of this situation as it develops after a short break, but for continuous coverage of this breaking story visit www.cbn.co.crv/breakingnews. You're watching CBN-3."

------

Camp Harrison
Cravan

The Aequatian Airborne troops who had landed at RAS Charleston had adjusted quickly to life with the 428th Infantry Regiment of the 121st Airborne Division based out of Camp Harrison; a stone's throw from the Air Service base considering the Air Service and the Airborne's operations were often heavily interrelated.

Colonel Richard Wilkinson, commanding officer of the 428th, sat back in his chair as he propped his feet up on his desk. He looked out the window, paying little mind to the television relaying the crisis in Laurana. A soft rapping came at the door, and a Lieutenant Mark Klatch came into the office.

"Hey, Wilkie," he said noticing the television, "I s'pose you heard."

Wilkinson placed his feet on the floor and sat up, grunting as he did so.

"Yep, I did. A shame, too."

"You know what this probably means, right?"

"It means I'm going to be getting a call in about twenty minutes from Divisional command that we've been put on alert."

"More than likely."

Wilkinson sighed.

"Sometimes I think I get too old for this shit."

"Well, at least you won't be running around with the youngins' anymore."

Wilkinson snorted, thinking back to when he and Klatch were deployed with their company to the Aequatian desert, he a young First Lieutenant and Klatch a sergeant. It seemed like such a long time ago, and in reality it had been quite some time since the separatist conflict had occurred. Now Aequatian paratroopers were living on his base instead of how he had bunked on an Aequatian base so long ago.

"At least we're not sweating our balls off in triple-digit temps," he chuckled.

"Yeah, instead we have to worry about getting too wet," Klatch retorted.

Wilkinson rose from his chair, stretching as he did so.

"Marlene," he called to his secretary in the adjoining room, "Forward any calls to my pager if you wouldn't mind."

"Will do, Colonel," came the voice of his civilian secretary who managed his calls and made him coffee.

"You're a doll, hun."

The two officers left the Colonel's office and ventured out onto the base itself.

"I figure I best speak to Colonel Jones and give him a heads up that we're going to be put on alert shortly. A fair warning."

"I'm sure he's already heard of the attack; news has spread around the base pretty quickly."

"Yeah, but even so it'd be nice to coordinate with him a bit. We're going to be managing quite a bit together over the next few days. And just imagine what'll happen if we're deployed up north."

"When we're deployed is probably a better assessment," Klatch said.

The two approached the office given to the Aequatian officer during his stay, and Wilkinson gently knocked on the door to the wooden building three times.

Central Questers

Pieter Frederik Vorster took a long drag from his cigarette. The former slave owner leant back on the bonnet of his Jeep Cherokee and exhaled sharply through his nose in the direction of the moon. It was a quiet night, with the exception of the birds - they had come out about ten minutes ago, which signalled that soon the light would show. The cotton fields stretched for miles and miles, but were deserted. The chain-link fences that surrounded them swayed gently, and Vorster remembered the good old days when he would awake in the mornings to escort his slaves, by the barrel of a gun, to the picking fields.

Not anymore.

This land had all been sold, and handpicking would be replaced by machinery. Vorster spat onto the muddy floor. This Russell... this Liberal had soiled his family tradition. P.F. Vorster's family had been landed slaveowners ever since the Boer people had arrived in this land, and now it was gone. One of his ex-slaves even had the cheek to overtake him on the highway the day before. The very thought of a slave owning a car disgusted Vorster. A staunch protestant, he had never considered the Doomani his friends until the moment that slavery was made illegal across the Questarian Empire.

And that's why he had done this. His contact was late, admittedly, but it would be worth it. Well worth it. Vorster was rich, that was true, but he had lost his most treasured possession - his heritage. The Anglo-Saxons had never respected that. From the day, five hundred years ago, that his people had landed on this fresh soil they had fought with them, over matters both trivial and grave. Suicide, clearly, was the only option. Well, Vorster had forsaken his heritage - converting to Doomani catholicism a few days ago, worming his way out of the sure hell that Calvinism would have condemned to him. In comparison to that, forsaking his life was nothing.

Obtaining nuclear material in Questers was hard, unless you knew the right people. Vorster was a shareholder in Beaufort Electrics, and ten years back they had built a nuclear plant not far from his land. There, he had met people that would now be of quite clear use to him. Extinguishing his cigarette, Vorster watched the lone Land Rover Discovery pull up the muddy lane to meet his Cherokee. It stopped, and the man climbed out almost immediately. Vorster smiled, and walked round, clicking the boot of his Cherokee open to show several suitcases.

"Mr Vorster."

"Mr Fletcher." Vorster grinned. "I have your money. Hard cash, like you asked. Two fifty million Kroner."

"That's good." Vorster's contact said. "Now stay where you are." Vorster almost visibly recoiled as his contact quickly drew a Sig Sauer P223 and leveled it at the Boer's chest.

"Mr Fletcher... let's be civilised here. I have my own firearm. You wouldn't want to test an experienced dueler, would you?" Vorster glared at him as the man walked back and forth slowly, keeping his weapon leveled.

"Actually, Mr Vorster, you don't. Your pistol is on the bonnet of your car."

"How the fuck did you know that? Just who the fuck are you?" Vorster raised his voice while backing away slowly.

"Mr Vorster, Mr Vorster... there are such a thing as bushes, you know. Surely you know the Security Service never works alone." The MI5 man waved his gun and Vorster slowly sidestepped away from the car in the direction the pistol had been motioned.

"Don't talk, Mr Vorster. Just listen. You ought to know that the Security Services have shareholders in every nuclear-involved firm in the country. It was no coincidence that I approached you after the dinner - and it wasn't your tie. In fact, as I recall, that tie was quite disgusting."

Vorster's lip curled up. "I-"

"Shutup. Mr Vorster, we also are aware of your Comrades. We know that after their part of the plan, you planned to supply them with the nuclear materials needed to intoxicate half of Jesselton. Tu ne cede Malis, Mr Vorster. Now, if you want to save your skin then you will tell us your suppliers."

Vorster drew deep breath. "Suppliers... for what?"

"The money. It's counterfeit, or its stolen. None of your bank accounts contained more than a hundred million Sterling." His precise and clipped English annoyed Vorster intensely.

"And if I don't tell you?"

"When we were friends with the Doomani, Mr Vorster, we learnt alot of tricks from them. They are rather effective."

"You wouldn't dare. There would be an outrage." Vorster was not yet broken, his voice maintaining consistency. He wouldn't break to this petty man in black. Not a man of his status. Never.

"Nobody would know. After all, you'd be dead."

Vorster gulped. He wouldn't sacrifice his life for nothing... "Alright then. We got it from the Church - the one in Islington, the big one. The minister there is part of a Doomani cell or somesuch, he has alot of money and alot of guns."

"Thank you Mr Vorster. Enjoy your flight to Hamptonshire."

"...What?" Vorster turned to run and a dull thud hit him in the back. So tired, so tired...

Three Hours Later
Huntington upon Avon

The three o' clock train moved slowly out of the station, pulling its passenger cargo away at the busiest moment of the day for King Richard VI Locomotive Station as Martinus de la Rey glanced outside the window of the fourth carriage. The timing was impeccable - he and his ally, Louis Paul Kruger had just managed to do the job. A few minutes away from the station and he would see it go up in holy flame and smoke... yes, moving a munitions train through into a busy station was not a good idea.

There where supposed to be three of them, but Hendrik had committed suicide the day before. The two had found his body hanging in the kitchen, the front door mysteriously unlocked.

So it was only two station staff whose bodies lay decomposing in a locked cubicle that had paid the price necessary for ultimate victory against the Liberals. After all, shedding blood was the best way to win a war and simultaenously arrive at Heaven, or so the Islington Priest had told his disciples. This was only the beginning, too... they would meet Vorster at the next stop and he would give them the material to be transported to Jesselton city centre. Just two minutes out of the station, he drew his modded blackberry from his inside coat pocket, and tossed it in the air, catching it.

"Are you ready brother?" He asked Louis.

"As ever."

Martinus held out his Blackberry and tapped it. "Huh?" He turned the on switch back and forth relentlessly. "But I charged the battery fully..."

"Sorry folks." The man sitting opposite them stood up, his three friends booked in front and behind de la Rey and Kruger standing up too, drawing pistols from their coats. "You will all have to buy new batteries." The man tossed a small electrical device in his hand. "The wonders of electromagnets, Mr de la Ray."

By that time everyone on the fourth carriage was looking round. "Martinus de la Rey and Louis Paul Kruger, you are under arrest for conspiracy to mass murder and for high treason. You have the right to remain silent, but anything you do say will be taken down and may be used in evidence against you. God Save the King."

There was silence as the two terrorists simply stared at the Security Service man flashing a badge and his two comrades aiming sidearms at them. A few metres away, a pair of hands clapped. Then more, and more.

Islington
Ten minutes later

Passers by must have been utterly confused as three large vans and numerous cars painted in the white and blue of the Royal Questarian Constabulary pulled to a halt outside Islington's Catholic Church, dozens of police and armed constables deploying and forming a barrier around the entrance. MI5's anti-terrorist unit, clad in combat gear and wielding submachine guns and combat shotguns broke down the door, catching the Priest fumbling for a weapon and looking rather alarmed at the fact that the news was reporting that a terror attack aimed at Huntington upon Avon, a major commuters point to Jesselton had been foiled.

In the cellar the money and arms needed for a full scale insurrection were discovered, and throughout the day, more than thirty people arrested and extradited to Hamptonshire where they would be jointly tried in connection to the Crypta bombings and various charges laid against them in Questers.

To Whom It May Concern in the Mondoth Freehold

Who are you to tell us what we can and can't do? You have literally wasted thousands of dollars with propaganda telling our people how wonderful your nation is, if it was so wonderful they would have moved. The Cohenian presence on Estonsko dates back to the fourteen hundreds, we have every right to be here.

The land and the military is ours, we will not budge. We've put up with your military staring across the strait, you can put up with ours. If not, come and pry the guns from our cold, dead hands. If you want a fight, our boys will be ready to fight one. Our missiles will be ready, if you so wish we'll take them out of the silos for you. Do you want them?

Your message and this one has been forwarded to the governments of Kingston Pact signatory nations.

Signed,

Soda Popinski, Grand Admiral, Governor General of the Estonskar Islands

Office of the Prime Minister
The Citadel, Georgetown, United Kingdom

"Can RIS confirm any of this?" Rodney Ingrahm broke the rules of etiquette and let his elbows rest upon the polished wooden table of the conference room. Earlier in the day, the KBC carried amateur footage of the attack in Leontopolis and then some time later of the aftermath of the assassination of the Cravanian Director of Defence. Ingrahm had no reason to doubt Hayek's assertions that the Doomani were responsible for the attack in Leontopolis. But there were now rumours that the attack in Laurana was related.

A balding man with sharply angled, wire-thin, titanium glasses bobbed his head from side to side. Sir Gregory Tomlinson was the Director-General of the Royal Intelligence Service (RIS) whose primary task was to answer just such questions as those posed by Prime Minister Ingrahm. "We cannot say for certain as yet. Owing to our formal alliance with both nations we keep few agents in country—and those we do are often following targets or seeking information on people from third parties. I do, however, have conference calls lined up with my counterparts after this meeting—thus far they have been rather pre-occupied."

"Understandably so," Ingrahm mused. He had spent two years living in Hamptonshire working for a Hamptonian financial services firm—and then another few years at the same firm's offices in the United Kingdom. Despite the size of the world and the trillions living in it, his private secretary had received word that an old friend from his time in Portshire had been working for a firm that dealt in the energy derivatives market. For the time being he was officially classified as missing. But Ingrahm held few hopes.

"Mr. Prime Minister," the Foreign Secretary, Gavin Astley, added after a respectful silence. "After Gregory and his counterparts can confirm the role of Doomingsland—and I think we are all in agreement that such a confirmation is merely a matter of time—we need to consider our diplomatic obligations to various parties in this growing conflict."

As Astley spoke, Ingrahm nodded understanding what was to come. "Quentin," he said, interrupting Astley, "what can we offer both Hamptonshire and Cravan?"

The Defence Secretary shook his head. "Not much, sir. After the dissolution of APOC and Laurana's withdrawal from NATO we began to redeploy a significant portion of Oceanian Forces Haven as we saw no immediate threat to Oceanian interests. Currently in Carpanthium, the Cravanian colony, we have one armoured division and two mechanised infantry divisions. The RAF has a much smaller presence of three squadrons. Two comprised of attack aircraft and the third are support aircraft, tankers and alike. Radovan can brief you on the Royal Navy's presence."

First Lord of the Admiralty, Radovan Noskovic headed the Royal Navy, which had its own representation in cabinet-level meetings such as this. He took his turn, clearing his throat and then taking a quick sip of water from the glass standing before him. "Well, Mr. Prime Minister, the Royal Navy has also been withdrawing forces from Haven. Our best offensive weapon is a single carrier group. One Majestic class carrier, about one hundred aircraft, two dreadnoughts and a few dozen escorts of various types. We have a squadron of cruise missile submarines and then another of diesel-electrics. And then as we are moving forces out, we have escort carriers and some frigates and sloops to provide cover for RFA transports."

Now it was Ingrahm's turn to shake his head.

"I say leave it to Haven to sort out, Mr. Prime Minister."

Ingrahm looked over and found Quentin Sterling looking straight at him. "Sir," he Sterling continued, "we do not have the resources to adequately contribute to any war effort by any of our allies. And reinforcements would be weeks away—and that is assuming we have them ready for immediate deployment. And aside from the airborne divisions and Royal Marine expeditionary units we do not."

"But we cannot simply abandon our allies," Astley protested to a thinly veiled roll of Sterling's eyes. "While I realise some of you," Astley continued with undue emphasis on 'some' in both intonation and a withering glare, "may call such a rationale as simplistic, it is far from it. We are beginning to shift our foreign obligations from Salisbury's overt friendship with dictatorial and autocratic regimes to a policy more broadly supportive of liberty and democracy. Though, we certainly do understand that each nation and each culture will take a distinct path to such ends."

Several members of the Cabinet turned their heads as the Environmental Affairs Secretary coughed. Despite his portfolio he had made a name for himself in the media by subtly criticising the Ingrahm government for placing just such limits on Oceanian support for movements favouring liberty and democracy. Ingrahm ignored it—both the cough and the Environment Secretary's views. Sir Daniel Barstowe was a valuable member of the Cabinet—but if pushed the Greens would sooner replace Barstowe in the Cabinet than lose favour with the sitting government as polls had them losing several more seats.

"However," Astley eventually continued, "I shall say that we must take into account the status of the Oceanian armed forces as noted by Quentin and Radovan and the fact that there are more effective means of combating Doomani slavery than declaring open war. Quentin is right on his rationale. This is a Havenic matter, to supplant Doomani bloc power with Questarian bloc power. And if it were two liberal powers dueling for supremacy than I would sit beside Quentin and urge restraint. But to allow theocratic dictatorships to supplant our liberal allies would not be simply an embarrassment and a mark of shame—but more importantly a foreign policy failure."

"So then," Sterling offered, "are we to march off to war to fight Doomingsland? To 'free the slaves' and such." He said the last sentence with no attempt to hide his derision for the stated aim of numerous liberal powers involved in the war. "Even if I were to agree—which I do not—how do you sell that to the Oceanian public? I hardly think that the public could stomach such a war, especially so far from home."

"We need not lead to be popular," Ingrahm finally said, his voice quiet but collected—silencing all others. "We need to lead to be right."

"Spare us the righteousness, sir, we have heard it all before," Sterling replied. "There are neither reporters nor constituents here, sir."

Ingrahm nodded, "very well then." While Sterling was an ass, Ingrahm kept him because for one, the generals and air marshals liked and trusted him. And two, he was not intimated by the office of prime minister. "If we are to take a greater role in the world stage, an objective that we all agree as being necessary to furthering our own interests in the world—no?" He waited until he saw the group quietly nodding. "We must step out of our isolation and show those wanting to be led that the United Kingdom is a nation worth following. Our allies will of course see through our rhetoric—and so will our enemies. But if we are to be leaders in the free world, we must lead not the leaders but the people. And the people will see us defending them. Hamptonians, Cravanians, and anyone else who falls underneath our umbrella. And that we do so without great numbers and great odds—far the better. We shall not shirk this responsibility because it is convenient. Because it is safer. Because we are concerned about swinging plus or minus so many percentage points in our constituency. We shall support our allies. Gavin, work with my office to send word to the Hamptonians and Cravanians that we are prepared to back them. Quentin, have the appropriate commanders issue orders to prepare for combat. Radovan, the same, ready the fleet in Haven."

Secure Communique to Chancellor Hayek

It is with great sadness that I watched the Doomani strike the Hamptonian people in such a cowardly fashion. In the past, you and your people have stood with Oceanians whilst we endured heinous acts of terrorism in the name of nationalism and independence. Today, the whole of the United Kingdom stands with the United Realms reaffirming the close friendship between our two peoples and pledging that the full force of the Oceanian armed forces stands ready to assist in the defence of the Hamptonian Empire.

Currently, the Royal Navy has a single carrier group in Haven and the Oceanian Army some three divisions. All are located in and around the Cravanian territory of Carpanthium. Should you need or desire assistance, HM Government is willing to redeploy these forces.

While the days ahead will certainly be trying, I believe that the Hamptonian people will overcomethe tragedies of today and tomorrow and be all the stronger for doing so.

Signed
Rodney Ingrahm

Secure Communique to First Director Annadale

Firstly, my condolences on the loss of Secretary Mellows. I never had the personal honour of meeting him. However, my Defence Secretary did and he tells me that James Mellows was a good man. He will surely be missed.

However, with the recent Doomani attacks on the Hamptonian Empire it can not be ruled out that the assassination of Secretary Mellows and the bombing in Laurana are also of the Doomani hand. As you are aware, HM Government is still in the process of withdrawing soldiers, sailors, and airpersons from Carpanthium with some thirty-plus thousand soldiers and a carrier group remaining. Given the tragedies suffered by both the Cravanians and the Hamptonians—another close ally of the United Kingdom—these forces will be remaining in Haven through the duration of the developing conflict. A conflict officially considered a war by the Hamptonian government.

I have offered Chancellor Hayek the support of the Oceanian armed forces. And when the evidence makes clear the complicity of the Doomani in today's attacks in Laurana—and I fully suspect that it shall—the United Kingdom shall not hesitate to assist in the defence of Cravan. Once more, if deemed necessary, Oceanians will man the trenches, sweep the skies, and patrol the seas of Carpanthium in solidarity with Cravanians.

I wish you and the people of Cravan the best in these coming days for they shall be trying indeed. But I know you and the Cravanian people shall prevail.

Signed
Rodney Ingrahm

Central Kargucagstan
2400

The heavy ASAT missiles were shrugged off of the Kovas’ frames just prior to the ignition of their engines. Rapidly gaining speed, the missiles shot out in front of the fighters, who were adjusting their flight path to better monitor the flight of the weapons. A cloud-like vapor trail followed each of the missiles as they arched skyward. “Spot on launches, team,” said the mission lead over the comms. The moon outlined the shape of the country below them, rolling fields and high mountains blending together over the vast distance with the oceans and the seas.

Darting like arrows over the horizon, the first of the satellites came into view. It was just a glittering speck at this range, but the ASAT missiles had been pre-programmed to enter the correct path that would steer them into their targets. Raven Flight watched as little puffs of debris bloomed above them. There were no explosions or massive fireballs, but disintegrating foil and broken solar arrays. Their mission complete, the flight began the long descent back to earth and home.

Petronas Sound

What would later become known as the First Battle of Petronas Sound began seven seconds past midnight. The Kyrios had decreed that a new tactic he was keen to employ, that of air-launching long ranged missiles from his new B-22 bombers, was to be used to deliver the opening strike. There was no questioning an order from the leader of the Conglomerate, so the air corps obliged by hefting the initial wave of cruise missiles in the bellies of a wing of heavy bombers. If all went well with the tactic, it could be employed on the opposite front, Clandonia and, given boosters for the initial phase of the flight, Praetonia herself could theoretically be hit.

The aircraft released their payloads at approximately the same moment that the first of the cruiser missiles began to launch from the fleet far below. On paper the barrage should appear to be a solid mass of radar targets, making it difficult for AA systems to distinguish which missiles were heading where. The entire magazines of two long-ranged shore-based missile batteries were emptied in the first minute of the barrage, and yet more missiles took to the sky as the arsenal ships began to shrug off their complements as well. The main target was Georgetown, but the men in charge of the operation were careful where their missiles went. Candiro providing support was almost entirely based on the condition of Cape King George at the time of its presentation. To that end, the cruise missiles were aimed for strategic spots that would cause the most disruption to enemy forces while minizmizing civilian deaths. These included ships at dock, visible fortifications and the few military bases that had been revealed by years of satellite overflights

On the surface the fleet began to quicken its pace. Their goal was to slip through the hulks of the Praetonian fleet and hold open a corridor to shore. Troops ships slunk through the waves, holds full of the fascist ground force. As Kovas streaked overhead and the prows of destroyers lead the way, the hulking shapes of the first airships appeared on the horizon. They would provide a missile bubble around the armada, or at least try to. Cape King George was about to take a heavy blow.

Illyviev

The house across the street exploded in a shower of drywall and mildew. “Great,” spat Pvt. Gregorios as he loaded another shot into the Doomani-built recoilless rifle. “We’re probably going to get cancer from blowing up these shoddy Communist huts.” A burst of HMG fire made him duck behind the tripod of this weapon.

“Hey, you might get shot, too. Who knows?” quipped Sgt. Hilarion, who was huddled down behind a pile of debris.

“Funny, sir.” The private leapt up during a break in the firing and sent another shell down range. The building at the end of the street crumbled under the feet of the hapless Krendian that had positioned himself in one of the upstairs windows.

“Iduma, you cross first. On my signal,” the sergeant watched the narrow road, “go!” The chosen man clambered up over the debris and dashed across the street. Reaching the other side, he did a SWAT turn into a doorway.

“It’s clear, guys, come on ove-“ he dropped as a crack resounded through the area.

“Sniper!” The surrounding squads hit the dirt, quickly scanning for where the shot came from. Another shot rang out and another soldier collapsed, blood spurting from his throat. “Damnit,” swore Hilarion, “somebody find that sniper!” An urban combat Rhino rolled up behind their positions, pausing to give the squad room to maneuver. The sergeant called for covering fire and sent one of his men to the back of the tank. “Get on that commo with the tank. Tell them to hit that building across the way. He’s got to be there.”

“Sir!” the grunt crooked his elbow and dashed out of cover. His squadmates sat up and emptied their clips, trying to get the sniper to look away. It must have worked, because the grunt made it into cover. A moment later the turret of the tank rotated and a 125mm round ripped out of the barrel. The house detonated, filling the street with dust and rubble.

“That should at least keep his head down,” the sergeant spat. “Get a medic over here to check on Iduma and squad 3’s downed guy, and then let’s move out. Gotta get out of this death trap.”

Outside the city, armored columns were advancing around the suburbs of Illyviev. Intense fire from the defenders had halted most attempts to breach the majority of the city, but the commanders of the Kargucagstani ground forces ruled that if the schedule was to be maintained they would have to circumvent the city and the armies around it. Accordingly, the bulk of the northern fascist push moved away from the northern territories and turned east, making for the Clandonian border. If Illyiev fell then a corridor could be opened to No Endorse, a secondary goal of the war, but the battle could prove to be a long, arduous fight in the streets. Only time would tell.

Southern Border Between Krendakov and Kargucagstan

“Sons of the Conglomerate! I now come to you as the Father of this country and entreat you to listen closely. For too long now we have faced the spite of our neighbors, those who cling to outdated ideals that never worked in the past and won’t work now. Yes, I am talking to you about Krendakov, but I am also speaking of Clandonia. These two so-called “powers,” along with their allies, have united against our Glorious State. It is up to you, the men of Kargucagstan, to show them the repercussions of their choices. Soldiers of the State, advance!”

With the words of the kyrios ringing in their ears, ten million men locked step and began to march. The trains that would take them to Krendakov were opened and ramps let down, all part of the preparation for what could be the largest offensive of the war.

OOC: Sorry for the long wait, been busy and have had writer's block. More to come later.

----------

The Kargucagstani fighters soared across the battlefield, dropping their payload of cluseter munitions so that the minefields that the Krendians had laid could be cleared, and the Kargucagstani army could reach across the battlefield and actually start combat with the Krendians. Although a success to certain degrees, a number of mines were still in place, waiting for whatever poor sods should stumble across them whereupon they would explode, killing said poor sod – or at least severely maiming him. After having dropped this payload, the Kargucagstani fighters continued across the city before starting to turn back round in a big half-circle seaward. This was a mistake.

From the east came a group of Krendian fighters, low and fast, closing in on the Kargucagstani fighters from behind. Targets were locked on and missiles flew off the hard-points and raced in towards the tails of the Kargucagstani fighters who, for all their attempts to dodge were thoroughly decimated by this attack. A small group of Krendian fighters continued to chase them down, whilst the vast majority turned southwards towards the the Kargucagstani AWACS craft. As they passed over the battlefield the strafed the Kargucastanis with their cannons, causing havoc amongst the Kargucagstanis, who had thought that there would be no attacks from the air.

With pandemonium amongst the ranks of the Kargucagstanis, now was the time for the Krendians to push forwards. The howitzer crews re-doubled their efforts, and hundreds upon hundreds of shells went crashing down upon the Kargucagstanis forces as they milled about in disarray. Explosions ripped through their ranks and bits of soldier and tank alike were thrown high into the air only to rain back down upon them, causing more hysteria. However hardened you are, having a disembodied arm landing on you is a frightening experience.

A group of Kargucagstani soldiers, probably a few of the more veteran and hardened of the lot, worked their way across the battlefield – running from crater to crater, from wall to wall. They understood that if the Krendian artillery was silenced, this battle could still be turned round in Kargucagstan's favour. Soon they were but twenty metres from a battery of Krendian howitzers, and no-one had noticed them working their way across the battlefield. Now it was just flat land between them and the Krendians, and so this would take First World War style 'over-the-top' tactics to clear the final ground. The sergeant counted down from three, and the lot of them jumped over the crumbling wall they had been hiding behind and started running across that small distance to the howitzers. It was not their lucky day, though, and they had not gone but five metres out from their former position before the leading man stepped on one of the remaining land mines. A huge explosion threw them back, ripping them limb-for-limb and showering dirt across a large radius.

The Krendian aeroplanes continued low and fast across the foot-hills of the mountains that separated Kargucagstan and Krendakov. Data from ground based radar facilities was being fed into the avionics, showing the positions of Kargucagstani AWACS. The Krendian fighters came up into the bellies of these unsuspecting aeroplanes, and fired off their air-to-air missiles at them, causing the advanced pieces of technology to break up and come crashing down back to the earth from whence they came. Those that were tracking the remaining Kargucagstani fighters kept up the pressure and were eventually rewarded with the complete destruction of every last one.

As the Kargucagstani army suffered under the withering hail of artillery fire from the Krendian defenders, the main body of Krendian tanks and infantry started pouring across the field, adding their own fire-power to the already ample fire-power from the artillery. Now, however, the Kargucagstanis had an enemy that they could see, an enemy that they could engage as equals. They regained heart at this, and started defending their positions valiantly. Shots zipped across no-man's-land as the Krendians advanced towards the Kargucagstani positions. The Kargucagstani soldiers were protected behind walls or lying below the rim of a crater, and so were dealing many casualties to the Krendians whilst taking few themselves. The Kargucagstani tanks, on the other hand, were quite readily obvious, and made easy pickings for the Krendian anti-tank weapons and their own tanks – although they managed to deal their fair-share of damage before getting taken down, and a number of Krendian tanks became burning wrecks thanks to a Kargucagstani shell.

The howitzers continued without rest, and the Krendians drew closer, and the Kargucagstanis were still taking a lot of casualties. Now that the Krendians were so close, they began using grenades, and forcing Kargucagstani soldiers to emerge from their cover, whereupon the were promptly shot. Now the casualty rate turned against the Kargucagstanis once more, and their resolve began to wear thin. Their soldiers began falling back as the Krendians advanced forward, back towards the woods and hills beyond Illyviev. Just inside the tree-line, hidden within the undergrowth, the Krendian Spetsnaz was waiting, they had been following the enemy nearly the whole time between them crossing the border to them reaching Illyviev, and now they were going to get to engage them.

With the sight of the Kargucagstanis retreating, the morale of the Krendians, which had been wavering due to the casualties being taken by them, was bolstered, and they hurled themselves forward at the Kargucagstanis, bayonets attached to their rifles – ready to disembowel any enemy soldier they met. The sight of so many Krendian soldiers so near wielding bayonets was more than the Kargucagstanis resolve could take, and they began to flee – running full pelt towards the apparent safety of the forest. They were not aware that they were running full pelt towards the barrels of the Spetsnaz.

“Halt your charge!” and “Use your rifles!” were cried out to the Krendian infantrymen by the officers who knew of the ploy, but knew they could not let the Kargucagstanis in on it. Many, but not all of the soldiers stopped and began firing.

The Kargucagstani soldiers neared the forest and were about twenty metres away, with those Krendians still chasing after them about fifteen metres behind that, when the Spetsnaz opened fire – cutting down the Kargucagstanis. They cut down many Krendians with that hail of fire, too, but to the Krendian high command and to the Spetsnaz soldiers themselves, that was little price to pay for victory.

OOC: Krendakov, I’m going to be honest here, I’m pretty upset. How did you route my entire army with one post? I can understand you being angry with the sudden invasion of your homeland, but godmodding is not the way to defend yourself. Like I said in my initial emails to you, I am willing to be halted or even beaten back by your forces, as long as it is ICly acceptable, but there is no way in hell that a bunch of ill-trained conscripts with disused equipment could route a force like this. Not to mention that the AWACS I mentioned, which, by the way, are airships, not aeroplanes, and are over 250km from the front lines, would have spotted pretty much anything coming their way. Here’s what I’ll do: I will put up the rest of the post that I wrote yesterday. It will have the Battle of Illyviev in it. The battle will be fair. if you win, you win. If I win, I win. I suggest you edit your post accordingly.

OOC:
Let's examine some facts:
a) you invade my nation
b) you immediately break through my border zone without giving me a chance to respond
c) you declare your air superiority with no reasoning
d) if I am unable to get a response quick enough for you, you assume that Krendakov does nothing and you get to advance through my nation.

So, let's not point the god-moding finger, because I've already wanted to do it but decided not to in the interests of keeping this from getting bogged down. Let's accept what's happened and move on WITHOUT EITHER SIDE GOD-MODING.

Church of Saint Cosmas and Damian, Liberty City, Wolfenhalle

A small catholic church standed in quiet and harmonic Liberty Vity suburb. It had been built by small Chruatian community in Wolfenhalle. Although Wolfenhalle was not a popular destination point for the Chruatian refugees, in turmoil of Yuslevakkia, people oftenly had no good choices, and so some had ended up there.

A dark green sedan stopped in front of church and five men, all doomani catholics, stepped out. One said, “so this is the place, I cannot understand why father Matthews suggested asking guidance from those Chruatians or whatever they were.”

“We are already here, so we may aswell go in and ask what they got.”
Other one replied. They looked around carefully, to be sure that they were not followed, and entered the church. At door they were welcomed by old monk, who simply told them to follow him. Soonly they reached to a dark brown door, that the monk opened. Five men walked inside small cabinet, to see a short pastor with large moustache sitting behind table, he welcomed them:

“Come here, come here, brothers. I am father Gavlić. I quess that you are in need of a little guidance?”

One of five visitors started speaking:
“Yes, we wish to join cru...”

“Chruatian Catholic Church opening mass of St. Mark's Church in Frekhaug in Cotland!” Pastor suddenly interrupted him. At same time he pointed on Cotland at a map that was on his desk, next to it was marked “Nuclearvm, Imperivm Doomanvm” in a very large red text. Before visitors could say anything, Gavlić continued:

“Excellent, bishop Puvelić will travel there personally from Zergeb, to perform the mass, he assured to me that it will take place despite all that mess. It is good that catholics show symphaty to each other in these stormy times, especially then suspicious eyes and ears are watching their every move.”

Pastor could see understanding in his visitors faces and continued.

“Let me explain the trip shortly. A cottish merchant ship will leave tomorrow, here it may make little stop,” he pointed on “Azaha, Doomani Protectorate” on map before continuing, “but in current chaotic situation this is not certain, still I assure you, you will reach to mass on Cotland in time. Cottish are proud people, they will defend their neutrality if neccessary, even their border with Nuclearum is still open. Mister Gandulić will meet you in port near 3rd wharf at eight o’clock, and take on ship. His moustache is even bigger than mine so you will recognize him without problems. Also you are not the only ones who wish to enjoy that wonderful event. Church is helping to fund the trip, but any of your donations would be a great help, so that more catholic brothers could join. So, are you fine with the way we have organized things?”

Visitors nodded.

“Excellent, excellent, I would like to continue chatting with you but I am currently in hurry, so if you have no more questions then I will wish you safe travel. Pax vobiscum.”

Five visitors bowed towards little pastor and walked out, still not having completely realized how fastly and carefully Gavlić had handled their problem. Also the pastor had not said anything which could be legally interpreted as illegal activity, even if secret service had heard every last word. Had they known the Chruatian history, everything would had made sense. Chruatian exiles had came from the Yuslevakia, where infamous secret police Svarinti regularly terrorized populance. So keeping a low profile, and being prepared for possibility that secret police keeps eye on you, was simply natural.

This little conversation was not only one of the kind. There were many small Chruatian exile communities with presence of Chruatian Catholic Church. As being relatively little known, they catched a lot less attention then Doomani Catholic organizations. Therefore Chruatian Catholic Church was well suited for helping small groups of people to move to the Doomani territories, and join the crusade, in states where it would be illegal. The fact that most exile Chruatians had came from Yuslevakian police state, meant that they had good experience in keeping low profile.

OOC: Check your TGs, Krendakov. Let’s talk about this via those. Also, updated my last post with the rest of the writing. Apologies for the wait.

HMS Poseidon
Omz Sea
1100 Hours

Commander Jacob Bradley stood in the conning tower's deck, deep in thought. The sky was bright, the seas calm and the sea life energetic. A few feet in front of him, a pod of dolphins swam in the wake of his submarine, jumping occasionally. It was a beautiful scene, and for a time it made the 38 year old submarine commander forget that he was aboard one of His Majesty's Royal Navy's finest submarines, and that that submarine was partaking in war on a global scale. It was rare for a submarine to surface, even in peacetime, and Bradley took in the sights with a mix of happiness and melancholy. It was true, Poseidon's defenses were top notch, but even still Bradley knew not when he would see the surface again, or even if he would.

Suddenly, the voice of the COB (Chief of the Boat) came from up the ladder, breaking rudely into Bradley's thoughts.

"Sir, sonar has a contact. Several merchantmen, bearing 345 to 010 and heading 270. Best guess is they're Doomies, heading toward Ferrum Lupus. Advise course of action."

Bradley took this in for a minute before giving his orders. "Make your depth 500 feet but do not cavitate. Make tubes one and two ready in all respects including opening outer doors." The orders were repeated back as was protocol before the COB disappeared down the hatch. Sighing, Bradley withdrew a twopence from his coat pocket and tossed it into the ocean, a modern-day offering to his vessel's namesake, before slamming the hatch shut and climbing down to the command station below.

A few minutes later the Poseidon was at 500 feet and advancing steadily toward the convoy, which was apparently unaware of the Seawolf class submarine's presence. Quickly assuming command of the situation, Bradley went down to the "sonar shack" where several enlisted men wearing headphones were monitoring the situation.

"What's the word, Evans?," Commander Bradley asked, directing his question to Lieutenant Mark Evans, the Sonar Officer.

"Five Maria class Doomani merchants, heading 270 same as before. Cutting it awfully close though. They'll be running into Shrewshire's patrol pretty soon I'd wager, and they've got Willinkians to deal with if they turn north," Evans replied.

"Aye, fucked either way," Bradley nodded in agreement. What've you got for a range?"

"171,000 yards. We'll be in range for a torpedo strike soon enough, unless of course you want to hit the convoy with some Harpoons."

"No, I'd prefer to do this the old fashioned way," Bradley replied, returning to the command center.

Twenty minutes later, the submarine was in range, and calculating a firing solution on the lead ship. There was a distinct reason for this: if the torpedoes missed the first vessel, they stood a good chance of hitting another. "Torpedo room, fire one and two," Bradley ordered. A few seconds later, the torpedo officer reported "one and two in the water, running hot, straight and normal. Time to acquisition fifteen minutes." Bradley started the antique stopwatch he had gotten from his father, also a submariner, and waited for the update from the torpedo room.

Fifteen minutes later, the torpedo room reported "torpedoes have acquired," which was responded to shortly by Commander Bradley's order "cut wires, reload tubes one and two." Bradley's work was done, but as there seemed to be no immediate danger he wished to see that his shots hit home.

He did not have to wait long. Two minutes later, the boat shook with the two explosions of the torpedoes, followed by several secondaries. Above, the scene was one of complete chaos: the hapless merchant had been split in half and was sinking fast, leaving it's fellows alternately scrambling to rescue survivors and run as far away as possible, fearing the unseen enemy beneath the waves. After much thought, Bradley elected not to surface and rescue survivors. It was too risky, he reasoned, and he doubted any crew of a merchantman could or would provide much in the way of useful intel.

PWS Queen Alexandra
Mouth of the Petronas Sound

All was abuzz aboard the mighty fleet carrier. While she ponderously slammed aside tens of thousands of tonnes of water, moving just enough to prevent her position from becoming too clear, or her flight deck devoid of wind, on deck the warship was prepared to launch an attack with Shrike strike bombers when the Kargucag attack came. And everyone knew it was coming. This country, which had been just a vaguely recalled named on a map a few weeks ago, had taken on an altogether more sinister aspect since the invasion of Krendakov. When its fleet, with long range air support from land and accompanied by transports had been detected moving into the South, first by satellites and then by submarines and surveillance aircraft, orders had come from Georgetown to prepare for the inevitable.

When the satellites went down, and the first launches were detected by long-range OTH radar at the Cape and then by AWACs planes flying overhead, war was a certainty. The crews greeted the news of war with much relief. It was far preferable to have an enemy who had come out into the open, exposing himself to attack, than one who skulked on the edge of horizon, protected by a shadowy political not to fire the opening shot in this first Continental War since the end of Edolian conflicts.

At 00:00:47 KMT, a note was handed to the Squadron Admiral with the carrying the codeword 'Marne'.

At 00:00:59 the counter-strike against the Kargucag satellites had been launched from a cruiser in the Queen Alexandra's battlegroup.

At 00:01:23 the first Shrike was in the sky.

Coastal Command Air Station (CCAS) Harlington Alley,
Cape King George

At 00:17 an orderly procession of trucks began to file out through the main gates, carrying with them the majority of the staff and the Coastal Command Regiment responsible for ground security. Harlington Alley was a notable Air Station, and it had been assumed that any initial strike would be sure to knock it out. There was really no sense in losing the ground crew as well. Little did they know that the attacks had instead concentrated on the port facilities, but in any case the planes would not be back for hours and it would be apparently much sooner than that the extent of the damage.

Already twenty-four Blackadder (http://z4.invisionfree.com/NSDraftroom/index.php?showtopic=1971&hl=) maritime strike aircraft had taken off, along with four Baldrick (http://z4.invisionfree.com/NSDraftroom/index.php?showtopic=1994&hl=) EW aircraft. More would be launched in the minutes left before the enemy missiles hit, and yet more afterwards when it would become apparent that the airbase was intact.

Including the other Air Stations present at the Cape, some five times this many of each aircraft were put off before the missiles hit, joined by forty interceptors that made at once for the slow enemy heavy bombers, still potentially within catching distance.

This vanguard of aircraft had a special mission. The EW aircraft were to jam the Kargucagistani radar, and fire upon their AWACs and airships with ultra-long-range SAMs. The blackadders would hold in reserve a few minutes longer to join in with the main attack with Sea Mace (http://wikistates.outwardhosting.com/wiki/Sea_Mace) at 750km. If all went to plan, the assault would overwhelming and disorienting, coming from multiple directions, and carried out by the carrier aircraft, the coastal bombers, and a third wave - the heavy missiles of the cruiser squadrons.

PWS Cantershire
Petronas Sound

Edward, Crown Prince of Praetonia, had made it clear from an early age that he intended to serve his country in some useful capacity before it came time for him to succeed his father as King. There had been opposition to the notion of his serving in the Navy at all, but it was thought acceptable for him to be placed in low-risk areas, and he had risen through the ranks to the command of a cruiser squadron. This consisted of three County-class cruisers (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v387/Praetonia/Countycruiser.png) and eight Cavalier-class destroyers. Quite typical of many that presently were positioned here and there in the mouth of the Sound, this particular squadron had been given to the Prince because of 'the low likelihood of conflict in these waters following detente with the Scandavian States, and taking into account the general pacific nature of the Eastern nations'.

What had come as appauling misfortune to the military planners and the government struck the Prince as extraordinarily good luck. Finally, there would be a real battle. In accordance with the pre-arranged plan for the counter attack, his squadron was moving forward with the other two dozen in the Sound, but it was hardly necessary. The Kargucag fleet had advanced, and radar telemetry from the Cape OTH arrays was yet to be disrupted by the unfriendly explosions of enemy attack.

Ironically, his 'low tech' 'old-style' surface combatants carrying heavy missiles in VLS siloes, rather than complex aircraft carrying further weapons and electronic warfare equipment, were also the most responsive, and so the flag crew of the Cantershire waited with mounting tension as the other elements of the attack were still busy locking into place.

"21 past Z-hour," the Prince remarked, "that will be the initial engagement."

He pushed a miniature Baldrick across the chart of the Sound he had laid out on his desk. "They should have begun firing at those airships by now. Damn fool idea, anyway," he said, ostensibly to the other flag officers, but, as they were preoccupied counting down the time until the enemy missiles would begin to hit the Cape, it was uncertain if anyone else was listening.

"Now the bombers should be moving up..." he pushed a Blackadder model across the table. The bombers would be coming in on different vectors, hoping to take advantage of the confusion caused by the EW and the disruption of enemy AWACs, but they had to wait to allow their attack to coincide with that of the carrier strike fighters.

"...and the Shrikes," he took three new models out of a small tin box he had resting on a sofa.

"That's it, then." Captain Hamilton looked up from his watch and gave a weak smile. "It is some comfort that whatever will happen to the Cape tonight has now already happened."

The Prince bowed his head solemnly for just a second. "Poor chaps," he said, resuming the business of placing the models accurately on the chart, "but our Shrikes are together now...

He gave them a little push forwards.

"The Kargucags are sunk," he smiled villainously at the morbid pun.

"Two hundred and forty planes," Lieutenant-Commander de Witter remarked, trying to imagine what it would be like to face such a force in the manner the Kargucags would have to, with no carriers of their own and only limited fighter support from planes that had to expend almost all of their fuel just reaching the Kargucag fleet.

"Four hundred and eighty missiles," a young Lieutenant added. These were not nearly as large as Sea Mace, but nonetheless deadly to an escort, and capable of inflicted severe damage upon a larger ship. They would be launched at a distance of 500km where they would not be entirely safe from enemy fighters but certainly possess a strong head start, and every plane carried defensive missiles. The Carrier Air Patrol of 48 Libertyfighters would also be accompanying them. What's more, the planes' combat zone would be within SAM range of some of the cruiser squadrons.

"Well, gentlemen. 5 minutes," the Prince declared, moving forward now the little model cruisers, representing among them his own squadron.

"God save the King," de Witter said, as if answering a question.

"Quite," the Prince smiled. "We shall not need to do anything; the crew already have their orders. Would you gentlemen like to accompany me to the observation deck to watch the missiles fire?"

As Blackadder bombers moved in from the Cape and released their missiles, in the wake of Baldricks that had already fired long range missiles at the enemy AWACs and airships, alongside hundereds of Shrike naval strike fighters releasing hundreds more missiles, all liberally sprinkled with interceptors and fighters protecting the strike planes and doing as best they could to engage whatever of the B22 force had not moved out of range or under the SAM umbrella of the enemy fleet, Prince Edward and his flag officers witnessed part of the hammer that would deliver the final blow to an enemy fleet pinned by all else that was going on that night. From each of the three cruisers in twenty-four squadrons, twelve missiles errupted from their siloes and streaked off towards their prey, totalling eight hundred and sixty four in all. For an enemy fleet that had only around a hundred serious surface combatants capable of mounting a proper attempt at air-defence, the attack was expected to be devastating.

Meanwhile, the proud naval docks of Georgetown lit up the night sky like day, throwing a column of soot a mile up into the air in a conflagration that would not be extinguished for more than a week.

[Velkyan Consulate, Cape King George]

"...and it is with the deepest apologies and condolences that the Government of the Federal Concordant of Velkya formally recalls its diplomatic mission to the Praetonian territory of Cape King George."

Jackson stretched his tired arms against the back of his armchair, straining against the ever-increasing weight of his eyelids. Rest was a luxury he unfortunately could not afford, however tempting it may seem. Enlisting the aid of a nearby thermos in his bout against sleep deprivation, he sipped at the warm brown liquid contained within, recoiling slightly at the bitter hazelnut taste. Working with his laptop under the soft yellow light of a portable lamp, he hammered out the final verses of a diplomatic serenade to his Praetonian hosts. He, along with the other hundred and seventy-eight residents of the embassy, were leaving their surrogate home. Even with the rumblings and finally outbreak of war between the pro and anti-slavery alliances, the largely neutral Velkyan government was unwilling to withdraw its various diplomatic postings across the world for fear of appearing to be hostile to their host nations. This politeness was quickly and decisively shaken out of them by the pro-slavery offensives at Hjetland and Cape King George, as well as the widespread naval actions already being fought across the oceans of Haven.

For Jackson and his colleagues, the destruction of the Georgetown harbor facilities was the last straw. Pending an official government decision from Velkya herself, the ambassador has decided of his own accord to begin preparations for an immediate wartime evacuation of Velkyan and other foreign nationals in the vicinity of the mission. Plane tickets booked, bags packed, visas readied, and all just in the nick of time. That is, if they were lucky. According to friends of the various Velkyan military attaches at the embassy, combat between Praetonian and Kargucagstani navies was already well underway with heavy casualties on both sides. The airspace around the Praetonian territory had become near totally militarized overnight, with nearly hourly roars of jet aircraft intermingling with the wailing sirens of the local fire brigades. Staring out his window, Jackson caught the orange glow of the still-burning military docks near the harbor front. War had come to the Cape, and he had no intention of being there for its conclusion.

An hour or so later, he forwarded the completed message to the office of the ambassador, himself not doubt suffering from a chronic loss of sleep as well. He rose from the chair, extinguishing the lamp, leaving the room in near total darkness. The shock from the attack on the harbor had knocked out several electrical substations in the local metropolitan area. The Praetonians he had spoken to about the matter had said that getting power back to the civilian inhabitants of the largely militarized city was a ranking priority of the local government, but Jackson knew better. With their prized docks in flames, the military and its civilian underlings could care less about the electrical supplies of residential districts of the city. Their focus was elsewhere, and for the time being the civilians of Georgetown would be dependent on petroleum powered generators and the surviving substations.

The caffeine had, once again, done its job too well. Kept awake through artificial means, Jackson laid down on his stripped down bed, staring at the dark shifting shapes of the room’s popcorn ceiling. Sighing in frustration, he pushed himself off the bed, closing the door behind his as he made his way to the stairs. Emerging moments later amongst the humid Eastern night, Jackson surveyed what lay before him. Swathes of the city were an inky black, pierced by the odd generator-driven light. The headlights of cars intermingled with the red sirens of emergency vehicles as they zigzagged across the city, bringing the wounded to the area hospitals while dispatching fire fighting personnel to the raging inferno. The air was still slightly sooty, with the railings of the third story roof grimy with the product of the black ash and the afternoon’s light rainfall.

Despite this activity, however, only a single sound could be heard. A woman’s humming echoed through Jackson’s ears, startling him slightly and compelling him to look at his surroundings. He found the source, an attractive girl of about thirty leaning against the rail about twenty feet about. Her features and dress, he assumed, denoted her nationality as Praetonian. Probably an attaché to the consul, he mused. Jackson certainly wasn’t unattractive himself, but being alone with a woman on a dark night like this made him more than a bit anxious. The ambassador’s aide wasn’t normally a position of great esteem with the opposite sex, and Jackson wasn’t one to break the mold.

The woman broke her reverie and turned to her left, smiling at Jackson and waving. Being caught off guard, Jackson mustered an awkward wave back. She laughed a small measure and walked over to where he was standing.

OOC: A lot has passed since my last post so this would be 'past set' but it will get me to where I want to be in this conflict.

Overlord Alduous Plumb sat at his desk the next morning. The Supreme Council was eager to hear his decision concerning the outbreak of armed and outright conflict in Haven over piracy and slavery. He had slept little the previous night and, in his elder age, that meant he would feel it hard the next day. His secretary, a small framed but eager young man in his thirties brought him his morning tea on time, at 6:15 in the morning, ten minutes after he arrived at his office. His driver had already parked the car and was getting it inspected for listening devices, a routine task undertaken once a week. He had a heavy burden to bear but, as the Supreme Overlord in the Forsaken Realm of Tnemrot, it was his duty to the people and to the gods. The latter was something that was more traditional. Tnemrot remained a religious society, even after centuries of a gradual decline in religious fervor throughout the world. The Supreme Overlord was seen by all as the most religious man in the country as he was "closest to the gods." Overlord Alduous Plumb was, by far, the least religious man to ever hold that office. He was from a new time and he modernized himself as he modernized the country. The same fervor that the Doomanis had to their God was not entirely different from the Tnemration fervor to Luna and the pantheon of Tnemration gods. Overlord Alduous Plumb didn't necessarily feel that way.

He had made up his mind though and he watched the clock. He would give his announcement to the Supreme Council at 6:30 and it would be transferred down the ranks accordingly. The clock was seconds away and he decided that time was not going to stop or reverse itself. He lifted the phone and opened a direct line to the Defense Councilor who picked up seemingly before the first ring. "Councilor Kyle. Yes I have made my decision. The Forsaken Realm of Tnemrot cannot stand idly by in this conflict. Our stance will be as such." He dictated it to the Defense Councilor who couldn't disagree with the brilliant plan. A statement would be issued shortly thereafter to the Haven region. "Inform our allies at once!" He concluded and the allies of the Forsaken Realm of Tnemrot would know before the rest of the world just where the Tnemrations stood.

Official Communique

http://www.forsakenoutlaw.com/Graphics/Nation-States/General/seal-tnemrot.png

Priority: Urgent
Recipient: Havenic Nations
Origin: The Forsaken Realm of Tnemrot
Classification Level: Encrypted
Subject: Tnemration Policies, Intentions, and Safeguards


After cautious and careful deliberation, the Forsaken Realm of Tnemrot has adopted the following policies, intentions, and safeguards in regards both directly and indirectly to the hostilities waged by Questers and company and Doomingsland and company. The following policies, intentions, and safeguards are hereafter mentioned and approved by Supreme Overlord Alduous Plumb and should they be violated, broken, or disrupted, it would be cause for open belligerence by the Forsaken Realm of Tnemrot against the breeching parties. It is the long desire of the Tnemration Realm that these hostilities end with minimal bloodshed but it is obvious to us that cooler heads may not prevail.

1. The Forsaken Realm of Tnemrot hereby decrees that these operations by Questers and company are threatening to the safety, security, and sovereignty of the Forsaken Realm of Tnemrot. Any attempt by any aforementioned nations to enforce their unilateral policies against the Forsaken Realm of Tnemrot shall be immediately considered casus belli and be met with an appropriate response.

2. The Bunnia Strait, as decreed by the Shansekians, shall be excluded from this conflict. Any violation of this shall be considered casus belli and be met with an appropriate response, regardless of the party or of the intended target.

3. The Forsaken Realm of Tnemrot further affirms the provisions set by the Shansekians here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13778403&postcount=24).

4. Any direct or indirect belligerency against the Realm of Cotland shall be considered hostile to the Forsaken Realm of Tnemrot. Their neutrality remains a cornerstone for this conflict and should it be violated, it would counterbalance the situation.

5. Any direct or indirect threat to the stability and sanctity of the Tnemration borders shall be considered casus belli and met with an appropriate response.

Sincerely,
Overlord Alduous Plumb


Classification Levels

Standard: Standard classification is the normal level of encryption. It is equivalent to the standard levels of encryption seen on most secure e-mail clients.

Confidential: Confidential classification is a higher level of encryption than "Standard" but it is not heavily encrypted. It is used mostly for flash traffic to foreign countries and requires some additional decoding time. It uses 512-bit RSA encryption methods and has several key ciphers that change unpredictably.

Secure: Secure communiques use 1024-bit RSA encryption and several key ciphers within them that change unpredictably to ensure that message traffic is not hacked or decoded. Access to said messages would require heavy cracking software and significant resources but it is not "uncrackable." It can be a viable level through 2010.

Encrypted: Encrypted classification is the second highest level of classification. It is uses 2048-bit RSA encryption and multiple key ciphers within it to ensure that cracking it would take such a significant amount of time to accomplish that, should it be done, the message's usefulness would have already expired. Though anything is crackable, because of the methods employed, this level is often considered "uncrackable" by current capabilities. To ensure revolving protecting, ciphers and encryption algorithms will change unpredictably. This level is sufficient until 2030.

Maximum: Maximum classification is the highest level of classification available. It uses 3072-bit RSA encryption and multiple key ciphers that change unpredictably. It can provide protection past 2030.

Experimental: Currently not a fully recognized level, experimental denotes a category using 15360-bit RSA encryption and multiple key ciphers that change unpredictably. It is not in full operational use as of yet.

The stage was now set for one of the most brutal conflicts in modern Tnemration history. The Tnemrations had chosen their sides and they had sided with the enemies of this moral, commendable but hypocritical and insane cause. The nations of Doomingsland and Zukariaa were receiving word already that the Tnemration Realm was a friend to them. Cotland would receive the same and Shansekia, once an enemy to the Tnemration Realm now found itself backed by a strong friend on the other side of the Bunnia Straits. Islands that were once battlegrounds for the two nations would become cornerstones where Tnemration and Shansekian observers would shake hands and look for trouble makers. Defenses along the northern border were prepared as well as along the coastline and other weak spots. The Tnemration military had been mobilized for war and could, if need be, conduct offensive operations quickly. The "Military Condition Level (MCL)" was immediately raised to MILCON 2, which meant war was inevitable. The Tnemrations prepared for an offensive against their territories from afar and near, air, land, and sea. Would it come?

Petronas Sound

The expected return fire came immediately upon missile launch. The horizon glowed as Praetonian ships let go their volleys, weaving delicate white patterns through the twilight sky, outlined against the orange light of the setting sun. Onboard the fascist ships emergency stations were taken up, crew grabbing life vests and holding on to anything they could. In the control rooms of the five Garner class battleships that bore the standard of the fleet, the last of the VLS tubes were emptied, ballistic missiles leaping into the sky with great number. Some were programmed to head for Cape King George, now significantly closer, with airfields and anti-aircraft defenses especially targeted. The rest were anti-shipping missiles, headed for a much closer target. One by one the escorts followed suit, expending missiles at a fervent pace. Some would be held in reserve, but just enough to mount one last volley should the need arise. The fleet clustered together around the transports, huddling like protective mothers around helpless children. The AA of some of the larger ships would be able to intercept some of the incoming fire, fighters and airship-launched missiles destroying more, but it was inevitable that some would make it through.

High above and far behind the battle, the AWACS airship Philo drifted through the contrails of the initial volley. When the incoming Praetonian aircraft were detected heading for the zeppelins, the captain began to execute the orders every airship commander feared. The three RAM turrets mounted on the ship rotated and attempted to acquire target, using the feeds from the massive antennae that stretched across the dirigible’s skin to ensure hits. That alone would not be enough to save the ship, however, so once the defender missiles left their tubes the captain ordered his ship to go dark. The radar was put into standby mode, ceasing all transmissions. It essentially created a blind spot in the SAM bubble, but it was better than loosing the airship altogether. Once the surviving Praetonian missiles approached closer, nearing their targets, chaff and flares were released, along with radar-emitting drones. The captain sighed and somberly stared down at the sea. He had done all he could to save his ship, and he had done his duty to the State and the kyrios. Even as the Imperialist weapons drew near, so too did the second wave of airship-borne missiles. They would follow the flight path of the enemy and strike back, their sheer numbers providing a fearsome sight indeed, guided through the formidable jamming by the radar beacon lights of their Kovas escorts, a steady stream of which were flying in from the mainland. The captain glanced again to the horizon. Blooms of fire appeared among the fleet.

After the deadly downpour let up, smoke filled the air. Three of the four battleships listed heavily, with the fourth in no state to do much of anything, other than perhaps separate at the midpoint and slip into the deep. The waters around the burning vessels were littered with hulks and corpses, interspersed with bright-orange life rafts that had been blown off of now-departed ships. But the fleet had survived, albeit vastly reduced and much weaker. It still had the capability to fulfill its primary goal, to escort the remaining transports ashore. Seizing this as their chance, full speed was ordered where possible. They would make landfall or die trying. The southern fleet would be arriving in a few short hours, and although lacking in numbers it would certainly help. That is, if the first fleet could survive long enough to see the morning.

Central Krendakov

Up until now the so-called “line of no return” had not been crossed. That was about to change with this new offensive. Troop columns leaving from the eastern part of the country had only a few kilometers to march into hostile territory before they crossed it. And when they did, there was no small amount of cheering. Finally the war was properly underway. Soon the iron-shod boots of the kyrios would ring through the burnt-out streets and alleys of Warminster. The fact that the men suddenly found themselves without GPS or satellite communications proved little bother, for the Conglomerate had been preparing for a total nuclear war for decades, extensively training even the poorest citizen in all manner of NBC survival methods. For soldiers, this included paper maps and compasses, among other things. They would reach Clandonia, and they would leave her in ashes.

OOC - In case not everyone knows this by now, my computer had a fatal error out of nowhere and I'm being forced to use my aunt's shitty Mac to do anything until it gets fixed. It quite possibly could be a very long time before I get the motherfucker working, so my involvement might take awhile.. Hopefully I'll be back on my computer by the end of this week. I can't do anything on this piece of shit. Sorry.

Ily <3

Ferrum Lupus

The Chevrokian and Aequatian attacks had been picked up by the Concordite over-the-horizon radar system thousands of miles away from their intended targets. The total launch from both numbered a staggering 36,720 missiles of all sorts, most likely cruise missiles. Most officers would have likely creamed in their pants when they saw just the beginning of the radar readouts on the number incoming, but the man responsible for air defense, General Lucius Salvius was a seasoned veteran who had fought in plenty of wars. He analyzed the attack which was coming in waves and instantly got to work responding to it. For one thing, it had been fired thousands of kilometers away leaving a large time gap for the Concordites to respond.

Throughout Ferrum Lupus missile batteries went instantly online as their computers quickly calculated the trajectrories of the incoming missiles and turned on jamming to a massive scale to distort the flight path of the incoming missiles. Tens of thousands of interceptor missiles shot out of their batteries and straight into the sky at the incoming missiles. As the missiles neared the other missiles they would detonate their warhead and spray high-speed shrapenel in all directions, making it more likely to hit the incoming missiles and cause enough damage to make them disintegrate. The full arsenal of the Spacium Concordite air defense was being used. Casualties would be high no matter what precautions were taken, but they had to be contained still. It seemed like an endless bombardment as when each wave came, a lot of the missiles were shot down but some kept on getting through and slamming right into the airbases that were being evacuated. Wave upon wave pounded the infrastructure of the SCCA.

Even still, as the missiles were fired to take out the incoming enemy missiles, hundreds of missiles slipped by and slammed into the airfields and aircrafts stationed on ground. Some of the missiles were still destroyed by flak fire from the airbases being targetted. All in all, after the attack had finally finished, thousands of planes were burning pieces of wreckage, many airfields were littered with craters making them unusable for the time being while hundreds of hangers and fuel storage facilities were laid to waste causing huge fires to erupt on airbases, dealing even more casualties, and tens of thousands of military personal laid dead or injured. The Chevrokian and Aequatian attack had dealt Spacium Concordia a deadly blow, but they had failed to put them down. It was now the SCCA's turn to have some revenge.

Even as the missile firing had gone on, large numbers of planes were airborne in the Space Union air space. These airplanes were the first to respond to the attack. Instantly the plans that had been in place to begin a few days later were put into play now. Operation Rising Fire was now in effect. The opening operation was to take out the Chevrokian and Akimonad air defense networks. A flight of fifty FB-77B Havenbombers, as they were popularly referred in the SCCA, went straight at Akimonad and Chevrokia's air defense network to clear the place up. The FB-77B was a fighter-bomber version of the original F/A-77A Havenfighter, but it was much larger and could carry a far bigger bombload. Each was equipped with eight stealthy ALCM.57C Hornswoggler anti-radiation missiles acquired from Juumanistra before the Pan-Havenic War. They had been meant to be used against Gothic forces but that never transpired so now in a twist of irony, it was their former allies who would feel their burn.

At high altitude, 30 F/A-77A Kovas "Havenfighters" were equipped with long range air-to-air missiles and medium AAM and tasked with downing all the enemy AWACS within the attack region of the operation. As they entered enemy air space, they remained in stealth configuration and anytime they picked up enemy AWACS they fired three air-to-air missiles (two long-range and if it still survived one medium range) at each, enough to take out something as large as the AWACS including the airship AWACS that were being used by Akimonad. This way the enemy's airborne radar system was out even before the entire operation would begin.

The flight of fifty Havenbombers broke into a loose formation flying at subsonic speeds with no emissions being emitted. The Havenbomber had been able to retain the stealthy characteristics of the Havenfighter and while flying at subsonic speeds with no emissions at low-altitude there was little if anyway to pick it up. As they entered the enemy airspace, it was time to do the job. The 50 bombers broke up into ten different groups with each group having five Havenbombers in it. As the bombers entered the airspace, they scattered into the different regions of the airspace they had been assigned to "sanitize" of SAM sites. Their first target was the large heavy duty radars that could be seen from satellite reconnisance. As soon as one of the groups came on it, they unleashed three anti-radiation missiles to destroy the radar each having a different flight profile (top attack, high-low-low, or high-high-low) combined with the fact that they were launched within 50 km, the response time for the enemy was very small. This way their long-range radar would be knocked out. As the bombers finished they quickly made their way back to friendly airspace, the second phase of the plan began. 500 SuB-4 Super Hurricane heavy strategic bombers fired 46,500 TLM-S-56 Hipshot long ranged cruise missiles armed with a cluster munition warhead to use against the various Chevrokian and Akimonad airfields from 2,000 km away in a constant stream of missile firing (launching a few hundred at a time). The missiles followed different flight paths to minimize the chance of being intercepted. One third used a Top attack profile, another third used a Low-low-high profile, and the last third used a low-high-low profile. Escorting this large amount of SuB-4 Super Hurricanes were 800 F/A-77A Havenfighters hiding in the monster bomber's gigantic RCS shadow. Combined with its already incredibally small RCS, the Havenfighters were impossible to pick up. Behind this entire group was 200 SuB-4F Super Hurricanes which were outfitted with air-launched interceptor missiles necessary to take out any SAMs that might be fired their way.

OOC: Jolt ate my big ass post, so i can't be assed to write a new one, i send field army to southern Aralonia via plane, and step up patrols in Fyre Sea. That's it.

Nuclearum

OTH RADAR detected the Tommahawk missiles breaking the surface of the water as they exploded out of their submerged vertical launch cells; an alert was immediately scrambled to AVCTORITAS HAVENICA AVSTRINVS, South Haven Command, in Ephesium, mainland Doomanum. Here, all military operations in southern Haven were coordinated under Magister Militum C. Publius Silvanus, recently promoted to lead Auctoritas Havenica Austrinus. He was, of course, the same C. Publius Silvanus that had masterminded and executed Operation Broken Crescent against the Free Havenic Republic of Kahanistan some eleven years ago, and was especially noted for his liberal usage of tactical nuclear weapons. His latest scheme to expand the Imperium in his sector (with Caesar's authorization of course) was OPERATIO OPVS MAGNVM, an amagulation of various contingency plans that had been formed over the years and updated to fit the current scenario.

Luckily, the operational plan did account for attacks on Nuclearum, as that was an extremely likely scenario considering its proximity to hostile states. Nuclearum itself was extremely well defended, and for good reason. It was effectively the southern frontier of the Imperium as well as part of the southwestern gateway into the Axackal Sea, the Straight of Doomanum. In the past days since the Rosdivanians had declared their intent to interdict Doomani shipping, the Straight's garrison had been placed on maximum alert. Under Silvanus' personal orders, rules of engagement for the use of tactical nuclear weapons against an enemy assault had been dispatched. Aerial patrols had been increased, and all combat aircraft were on five-minute alert. In Nuclearum, similar orders had been given.

When the enemy cruise missiles began approaching the province and the OTH arrays pointed out their locations, interceptors were immediately dispatched with medium range missiles to neutralize as many of them as possible. With no enemy fighters apparent, the some three-hundred Havenfighters that were directed to engage the missiles, each equipped with eight Sagitta-M missiles and an additional four ATAIM-8 short range missiles, were free to make full use of their extremely powerful RADAR in addition to feeding off general data regarding the vicinity of the targets from the OTH arrays and more precise data from AWACS aircraft.

The subsonic Tommahawks would be relatively easy targets for the missiles, which were engaged leisurely from stand-off range. Upon expending their medium range missiles, the fighters would have to close and make use of their short range missiles, and if they ran out of those they'd eventually have to resort to their 27mm cannon. Luckily, they were flying supersonic aircraft, and their targets were subsonic. Unluckily, their targets outnumbered them by well over 10:1. Even if all of their missiles were to score 100% hits, they still wouldn't have enough to destroy all of the enemy cruise missiles. There would still be 400 missiles left that would need to be engaged with guns, a task that wouldn't be nearly as easy as simply firing missiles from standoff range. And of course, not all of the missiles found their targets for a variety of reasons (the planes were, after all, stretched to say the very least by the amount of targets). Land-based surface-to-air missiles would have to be used, these recieving targetting data from friendly AWACS aircraft. Doomani air defense networks had several tiers; the enemy cruise missiles would be engaged by ground defenses at some one hundred miles by Apostle-IIG missiles, who would have found that engaging these particular low-flying targets to be difficult to say the very least. Following that, they would be engaged by medium-range Apostle-II missiles, and later by short range Animus missiles, and finally engaged within visual range by the FANAT-M anti-aircraft guns or Triarius-VII SHORAD tracks that guarded the targets of the missiles with bursts of 45mm AHEAD rounds.

The amount of surface-to-air missiles and anti-aircraft guns within Nuclearum meant that the subsonic Tommahawks suffered extremely high losses before reaching their targets; in the end, just over two hundred missiles reached their targets, most of them hitting port facilties. Several ports suffered heavy damage to their facilities when dozens of missiles impacted them; massive oil fires would burn long into the night, and the screams of the dying pierced the air amidst the roaring flame. Two ports out of eight were rendered unusable by the attack, although damage control efforts as well as a stiff air defense had meant that the damage incurred by the others would be repaired within a week, and even in that time they'd still be able to recieve ships. The two rendered unusable would require extensive repairs that would take some weeks, unfortunately, meaning that the amount of traffic going into the already heavily burdened surviving ports was going to increase even more, making for a dangerous backlog of cargo.

With the Rosdivanian declaration of war and the confirmation that the missiles used were Tommahawks, it was fairly obvious who was behind the attack. Bomber wings, already on maximum alert, were scrambled, along with their fighter escorts. Some 1,500 ACI-4s based out of Nuclearum and mainland Doomanum (who would top off over the Straight) and 2,200 Havenfighters equipped with mixed weapons would be taking part in this particular strike, which was meant as a punitory attack.
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Ferrum Lupus-Hjetland Border

The war had started. That much was obvious by now by the chattering of anti-aircraft guns and the roaring of rocket motors, and the overhead growling of jet engines as Concordite aircraft began to strike Chevrokian targets. Imperial Guard Centurion Marcus Saevus sat on the ground of his covered two-man fighting hole, his ACOM resting against the wall of the position. His eyes were closed and he silently enjoyed the wad of dip packed into his lower lip, occasionally spitting into a small hole he and Optio Alius had dug for the purpose. By now he had the little hole zeroed in: even with his eyes closed, he could nail the little target with his blackened saliva. It wasn't his turn to be on watch right now, yet he couldn't really sleep knowing what was about to happen. Within a few hours, his radio would crackle and they'd be ordered to initiate OPERATIO LIBERTAS, the ground phase of the invasion of Hjetland.

To the Doomani, the name wasn't ironic, although any foreign observer would likely chuckle upon hearing it. They were surging across the border to liberate the sizable Hjetlander Doomani Catholic population from the yoke of heathen oppression. Truth be told, for many of the men this was personal. Having been stationed in Hjetland prior to being transferred to Ferrum Lupus, a few of Saevus' younger soldiers had taken local wives, and one of them even had a son born of his Hjetlander bride. Considering the girls in question were themselves Doomani Catholic and their families fairly devout, the practice of marrying into the local families had been encouraged rather than frowned upon. This would ensure maximum local cooperation with Doomani forces in the event the Chevrokians should ever turn hostile to the Imperium; in fact, Hjetlander insurgents would themselves engage in a campaign of sabotage against Chevrokian and Aequatian forces immediately prior to the invasion.

Growing bored, Saevus stood, lifting the camoflaged tin roof from the fighting hole and climbing out, allowing Alius to replace it. The entire centuria's dismount was dug in in this manner, while their VAM.IIIM armored personnel carriers, covered in camo netting, sat in concealed positions, engines off in order to keep their infrared signature at a minimum. He walked from hole to hole, tapping on the roof and chatting with his men for a few minutes at a time. They were all very young, unlike himself, who'd served in the Imperial Guard for a good twenty-three years. While they were no Legionaries, they'd certainly have no qualms about crucifying the whole populations of cities, nor of charging headlong into a machinegun nest with no regard for their own lives if called upon to do it. After all, martyrdom wasn't a terrible fate by anyone's standard.

Like their far better trained and equipped Legionary brethren, the men of the Imperial Guard were bloodthirsty fanatics at heart. They were, however, far more expendable. In fact, they were extremely expendable, which is why they'd be the first units to cross the border to wake up the infidel defenders. There was an unspoken knowledge of the degree of their expendability among the men; they often joked of it. And yet, they were not bothered by this. It had been this way for their fathers, and for their grandfathers, and for their great grandfathers, and all had had their own great and terrible wars. Why should they be any different?

Imperial citizenship is not free. These men were paying for their's, and soon many others would be as well.

Even though the Concordite counterattack had attempted to maintain a degree of stealth in their operations, this was not 100% successful. Skytop surveillance had spotted the flight of enemy Havenfighters at a range of 300 kilometers. Too far out to get a positive identification, but their origin in Ferrum Lupus meant that they were most certainly enemy. However as they approached the border, they were close enough to get a positive radar identification by both AWACS and ground based radar sites.

The Skytops had a good deal of warning that they were being engaged, though given that they were airship platforms, what they could do to counter the Concordite attack was limited to a secondary full power jamming mode using the massive array. Skytop crews often remarked they could feel the entire airframe vibrating when the array was set into jamming mode, and a few people had to be relieved of duty as a Skytop crewman after they developed an irregular heartbeat. The incredible jamming capability of the Skytop was somewhat effective in that it broke the radar lock of the missiles. Unfortunately, the missiles then reverted into their home-on-jam mode, and though the obscenely high jamming power being put out managed to deflect a few of the missiles, and stood a good chance of eventually giving their crews some form of cancer, they could not stop all the incoming missiles, and so the Skytops had one more trick up their sleeves. During the short time before the remaining missiles reached their marks, the crews of the Skytops reprogrammed their arrays and pointed them straight at the Concordite fighters, making it appear as if they were being “painted” by fire control radars from SAM sites. The idea was that the enemy fighters would, in response, commence jamming to protect against the supposed Chevrokian SAM radars, with their air-to-air missiles in their home-on-jam mode looping back around and locking onto the very aircraft which launched them. If this last trick failed, the Skytops in Chevrokian service still had a small complement of three JAWOHL point defense missiles.

Meanwhile, the attack by Concordite Havenfighters had been reported both to local air defense headquarters as well as any friendly aircraft in the area. The first to respond were F-85A-30 Slayer high-speed interceptors the 433rd Fighter-Interceptor Squadron. Though the Block 30 designation signified them having been refit with the radar and many of the electronic suites of the F/A-77 Kovas, they were still not dogfighters, and so they merely ripple fired their eight AIM-12 Lightning missiles before turning away.

The Havenbombers, acting as SEAD, were somewhat more difficult to deal with. Long-range radar had picked up the approach of the strike planes, however due to their low altitude flight path, an accurate fix on their radar signature, altitude, or even the actual numbers of planes, were not so easy to come by. The Republic Air Force’s surface-to-air missiles were not capable of engaging the hostile aircraft, so this task was left to tactical air defense units of the Chevrokian Army in the area. Many units were not in position to fire, but those that were fired their MIM-12G Lightning infrared guided missiles at the inbound aircraft, along with SPAAGs with twin 57mm rapid fire cannon. The 400 anti-radar missiles they fired, however, were of greater concern. The two thirds of these missiles which were flying generally higher altitude attack profiles, though they were somewhat stealthy, made easy prey for SAM batteries due to their subsonic speed, proximity to the radars which they were targeting, and lack of countermeasures. The remaining third, flying at low altitude were, like their launch aircraft, difficult to get an accurate radar lock on, leaving defense against them again to Army air defense units. The combined action of Army air defense as well as point defense systems at some of the radar sites downed 90 of the surviving missiles, with 43 surviving their entire flight from the Havenbombers to their targets. As it turned out, the majority of the radars which were knocked out by the attack were, in essence, decoy radar sites, set up to deliberately broadcast continuously, thus drawing enemy attention towards them. Though they were technically fully functioning radar sites, their loss was not detrimental in any significant way to the overall Chevrokian air defense network.

The substantial volley of Hipshot ground attack missiles, however, was another matter, and having been launched far away from the border between Ferrum Lupus and Hjeltland were just now coming within range of positive identification by surviving Chevrokian radar sites and AWACS. The first to respond were interceptors of the Chevrokian Republic Air Force, actually B-95A Valkyrie IIs retasked on patrol interceptor duty, useful for their ability to carry large amounts of air-to-air munitions. Six squadrons of the Valks on patrol were either in the northeast or quickly redirected after the inbounds was picked up, set to engage missiles in the higher altitude attack profiles. At long ranges the planes ripple fired AIM-55s, closing to medium range to fire AIM-12s, and even getting very close (for a Valkyrie) and shooting off their AIM-44 point defense missiles. After expending their entire complement of missiles, the Valks found that (taking into account failed intercepts from near misses and missile malfunctions) they had barely made a dent in the assault, downing some 3,800 of the inbounds.

With other already airborne fighter squadrons redirected to engage enemy aircraft as they attempted to leave Hjeltland’s air space, most of the remaining defense fell upon surface-to-air missile batteries, with some additional support from fighter squadrons which had scrambled after the attack had been detected as well as others redirected from locations further to the east. The Hipshots flying a top-attack profile were fairly vulnerable, and after being engaged with Republic Air Force batteries consisting of MIM-604 long range and MIM-603 medium range surface-to-air missiles, were mostly decimated. The missiles flying a low-high-low profile were engaged at first by MIM-604s, these taking out roughly 60% of this wave, before they began their low altitude terminal flight path, after which another 30% were wiped out by the Army’s low altitude air defenses and point defense systems at the airfields. Of the missiles flying low-low-high profiles, their numbers were gradually whittled down by Army air defenses, and then engaged by MIM-603s and airfield point defenses on their terminal flight, these actions taking out slightly over 90% of this wave.

In all, the Concordite missile attack managed to get 2,720 missiles past the combined Chevrokian air defenses. Generally, airfields in the most western section of Hjeltland were the hardest hit, due to the short warning time and lacking as much defense in depth as those further inside the territory, though through some manner of luck a few airfields in the west managed to escape destruction. As medics came out to treat the wounded and others cleared away the bodies of the dead, with casualties easily numbering many thousands, crews quickly set about to making temporary repairs to knocked out runways and fixing damaged aircraft, of which there were many. Additionally, many commuters noticed a substantial increase in military truck traffic on the District’s roadways, racing to and from supply depots all over the countryside, retrieving additional missiles for the SAM batteries in case any of them were in danger of running low; entirely possible considering the sheer number of munitions expended.

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Long Range Missile Battery Ægir, 3rd Battalion, Divisional Artillery
The Republic’s Own Streymnes Guards Armored Division
Along the Hjeltland-Ferrum Lupus border

One of the few divisions in the entire Chevrokian Army which earned the title “Guards,” the Streymnes Guards Armored was also one of the oldest field formations in the Chevrokian armed forces. They’d been organized in 1860 as the King’s Own Streymnes Cavalry Division during the last few years of the Chevrokian monarchy. Following the beginning of the civil war on the mainland, and Hjeltland being cut off, they’d been renamed Hjeltland’s Own Streymnes Cavalry Division, and eventually they saw action in covering retreating Chevrokian forces across the border to the Willinkian Raj after the 1881-1882 invasion by the Red Empire. When Hjeltland was liberated from the occupiers, the Streymnes Cavalry, primarily having been equipped with Willinkian and Praetonian weaponry during their exile, was the first to cross the border. Due to their distinguished service during the Pan Havenic Twenty Years’ War, they had been given the title “Guards,” and though they had engaged in minor conflicts since then, and eventually reorganized into an armored division with tanks, they had not participated in a major engagement such as this.

Lieutenant Jørgen Halvorsen was jolted out of his nap and to attention by the shouting of his fellow soldiers. As he awoke, he observed other soldiers pointing up at smoke trails streaking into the sky, for as far as he could see. Had to have been easily hundreds of them, maybe thousands. At first, he tried to remember if he had forgotten about a rocket artillery strike. It was possible, he was assigned to a Long Range Missile Battery, and the rocket artillery was something he didn’t explicitly need to know about, but would likely have been quickly briefed about such an event occurring along the front lines. As he watched, however, he noticed the streaks did not trail off and degrade in to a ballistic trajectory like rocket artillery should. It then dawned upon him that it was not rocket artillery, but rather, surface-to-air missiles being fired in great quantities. This began to concern Halvorsen; this meant enemy aircraft and their missiles and/or bombs were on their way.

The concern could not last long, though; he had more important things to attend to. The event which had inevitably triggered the Spacium Concordite counterattack was additionally the trigger for the mobile surface-to-surface missile batteries of the Hjeltland units of the Chevrokian Army to come in to play.

An irony about the turn of history; the Streymnes Guards Armored was now set up to fire across the border into Ferrum Lupus, where they had themselves been exiled to in 1882. Part of the overall Operation Hammer plan, forward units of the Chevrokian Army had readied their long range missile batteries to fire across the border. On thousands of highly-modified HEMTT trucks near the border were launch rails for MGM-50 Nidhøg high speed cruise missiles. The Nidhøg had originally been an air-launched missile, used with Republic Air Force Valkyrie IIs, later trickling down to the Navy with their Blackadders and further modified to be launched from shipboard VLS cells. Eight thousand trucks were ready to go, and with a massive flame and smoke cloud from the four booster rockets of the ground-launched Nidhøg, the missiles were away.

Of the total, 1,000 missiles were of the MGM-50B variant, fitted out as an anti-radiation missile. These would target enemy radar sites and destroy them with its 113 kilogram blast-fragmentation warhead, and could reach out to 500 km across the border. Another 3,000 missiles launched were the MGM-50A variant, packing a 907 kilogram armor-piercing warhead. These had been originally intended to be anti-ship missiles, but in this instance, they would be targeting runways, punching huge craters in their surfaces. The remaining 4,000 missiles were of a new MGM-50E variant, fitted out with a warhead identical to that of the Aequatian-made AGM-202C, with 260 BLU-127 Combined Effects Bomb submunitions. As with before, these would be targeted at fuel depots and parked aircraft.

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

F-93A Skögul
555th Fighter-Interceptor Squadron
Off the North Coast of Ferrum Lupus

A lone aircraft raced across the sky towards the Spacium Concordite territory of Ferrum Lupus. Tracing a contrail across the sky at 85,000 feet, the plane held the lines and shape of a bomber; its huge delta wings with cranked-down wingtips and long, slender forward fuselage and prominent forward canards were a familiar shape to many Chevrokian citizens and especially members of the Republic Air Force’s Bomber Command. But this particular plane, and the rest of its squadron-mates spread out wide across the skies approaching the north coast of Ferrum Lupus, was not on a bombing mission.

The idea had been born out of the continuing issue of dealing with enemy AWACS aircraft. The typical engagement using tactical aircraft, specifically fighters, to damage or destroy an enemy AWACS was still seen as useful and necessary in certain circumstances, however in other situations, a tactical fighter either did not have adequate payload, range, or both. And to get within engagement range, a tactical fighter risked being spotted by the AWACS, whose operators could have potentially laid a trap with their own fighters, escorting the AWACS or lying in wait nearby, for any attacking fighters. Certain persons in the Chevrokian Department of Defense believed that an aircraft which could rapidly engage an enemy AWACS outside of the engagement range of enemy fighters escorting the AWACS would give the Chevrokians a significant advantage in any upcoming conflict.

Of the allied military leaders the idea had been quietly presented to, members of the Questarian Royal Air Force had shown the most interest in the concept. It was determined that a modified high-speed strategic bomber would be easily capable of striking at enemy AWACS planes at long ranges, their high altitude giving them the capability for a very far radar horizon and radar warning receiver range. Their high speed would allow them to enter and leave and engagement at will, and their payload capacity allowed them to carry missiles which had the range to hit targets in the engagement envelope provided by the avionics.

Though the two parties decided upon two different bomber aircraft to base on, the missile would be the key link in the project. A joint effort was begun by the Armaments Division of Chevrokian Aerospace and the Questarian company Hawker Aircraft Limited to create such a missile, the project being dubbed the Hunter-Killer RADAR Aircraft Programme, with the weapon given the name Red Salient. The Chevrokians modified a limited number of Valkyrie II strategic bombers as carriers for the weapons. Their primary weapons bay was fitted with a rotary launcher which could carry six Red Salients, given the Chevrokian Department of Defense designation AIM-76A. Extra space left over in the large weapons bay was taken up by additional fuel tanks, giving a slight increase to the Valkyrie’s range. A very important change, however, to make the whole system work was the fitment of an ALRQ/R75 radar set in the nose, taken from Chevrokian production lines which delivered the same radars for Chevrokian made F/A-77 Kovas fighter planes. The exceptionally powerful radar set and the Valkyrie’s high altitude flight path gave the aircraft the ability to pick up radar tracks of enemy AWACS by air search well past 1,000 kilometers, and acquire an accurate radar lock on the target within 500 kilometers. Should the aircraft become under attack, it could launch any of its four AIM-44A Skybolt short-range defensive missiles, or operate the extensive electronic countermeasures suite.

The entire project was kept very quiet, with news of sightings of black-painted (actually an extremely dark blue) Valkyries passed off by Republic Air Force officials as operational testing of paint schemes alternate to the standard grey and anti-flash white schemes. Funding for the program was listed very deep in Defense Department procurement documents, often stuck under obscure items such as “Runway marking paint” and “Base detail riding lawn tractors” to keep prying eyes away. The aircraft had been given a different designation and name as well; F-93A Skögul. The new planes were assigned to specially organized fighter units, consisting of some of the best crews from both traditional fighters and Valkyries.

Their mission was simple: kill enemy AWACS.

Screaming into enemy airspace at over three times the speed of sound, there was little doubt the enemy could see them coming. In fact, their over the horizon radar should almost certainly have seen them at least a thousand kilometers prior, and in fact, an enemy who couldn’t spot them on their way would be seen as either incompetent or poorly equipped. Stealth really wasn’t an objective at all, as nobody was overly concerned with being spotted on enemy radar displays. The reason for this was that while the aircraft was still capable of being intercepted, assuming the enemy were in a position to do so, the enemy AWACS were totally vulnerable and really had no chance whatsoever to escape damage or destruction.

The Red Salient missile could reach out to 525 kilometers at a speed of Mach 3.5, propelled away from the F-93 by a solid fuel booster which burned out to form a combustion chamber for the ramjet cruise propulsion. The missile also had a multitude of navigation systems to ensure for certain that it would reach its target. As fire-and-forget missiles, they featured an inertial navigation system and terminal active radar homing. Should the victim attempt to jam the missile’s radar, it could then use home-on-jam to home in on the electromagnetic radiation put out by the AWACS. If for some reason the other forms of navigation were unsuccessful, it could even be guided to the general location by GPS coordinates of the AWACS’ known location and use terminal infrared guidance to home in on the aircraft’s heat output. With a 100 kg blast-fragmentation warhead, and a secondary 30 kg extra-shrapnel warhead to make sure even a near-miss would damage the aircraft but more specifically, its radar set.

As the F-93s entered approached enemy airspace, every AWACS they detected received one Red Salient missile; it was deemed one missile per enemy AWACS was entirely sufficient, with the exception of the off-chance they might escape destruction from the first missile.

PWS Advantageous
Petronas Sound

The swathy destroyer advanced alongside her ward, the cruiser Cantershire. The steely silence of the operations room had been broken by a short applause as the Captain announced to his crew, 'Confirmation of impact from aerial assets. Heavy damage observed.' The Advantageous was too small to carry the heavy Sea Mace missiles of the cruisers she was assigned to guard, but nonetheless her crew were part of the Squadron machine that had delivered death and destruction to the enemy fleet.

But the jovial mood disappeared instantly when a radar operator broke the silence with, "Sixty contacts 320 Norreast, closing. Suspect to be missiles."

The Captain have the order to engage, and the VLS siloes to the fore of the Advantageous launched a dozen Sea Arrow SAM (http://wikistates.outwardhosting.com/wiki/Sea_Arrow_missile)s alongside the other escorts.

Three hundred and twenty kilometres was only a few minutes away for the Kargucag missiles, but the time stretched into a seeming eternity. The crew of the Advantageous and her fellows knew they had advantages that the enemy had lacked. Their radar was not subject to general jamming. They were being attacked from only one vector. There were no enemy aircraft. Their AWACs had not been engaged. And yet the prospect of imminent death loomed over them as they attempted to do their best to avert it.

A few minutes later, the remaining contacts were in visual range. Close-range missiles burst from the VLS siloes now automatically. The situation had removed itself from the crew's further control. The seconds ticked by. Some whispered prayers to themselves; others closed their eyes. Most affected not to know or care about what was to happen. Stoicism in the face of danger was instilled in most military people as a moral ideal, and some of the more zealous sailors were even pleased to have an opportunity to prove they had it.

The seconds ticked by. The missiles could be heard now, screaming closer and closer to the ships.

The crew on the upper decks craned their necks for a view through a porthole. Not much was visible against the night sky, except the lights of the Cantershire to the West, then a streak of light. Then a flash. Then all was obscured by smoke.

Velkyan Consulate
Cape King George

"Hello," the woman declared in the plummy accent of the Praetonian middle and upper classes, "I'm Margaret. And you?"

She turned back toward the city as another round of missiles, far less accurate than the last due to their lack of GPS guidance, slammed into various buildings with accompanying explosions. She seemed rather pleased with it all, as though the whole thing were a rather exciting film being played out in real time.

Looking back toward the Velkyan, and realising that her reaction would probably be seen as disrespectful, she frowned, "Frightfully bad business. I do hope no one is hurt."

She winced as she saw a missile's firely tail briefly light up the Purple Ensign above the Royal Naval College for one brief moment before consuming it in the flame of its explosion.

"Absolutely frightful. Last month barely anyone knew who these blasted people were. Now we shall certainly have to bring them under the Crown's benevolence. Terrible shame, when a people can't govern themselves correctly," despite her clear excitability, she was completely serious. "Don't you think so, Mr...?" She added, suddenly remembering that she had not allowed the man to answer the first time she had asked his name.

Somewhere
Above the Petronas Sound

While the Kargucag fleet took increasingly heavy losses, the Praetonian presense in the air above intensified. As they finished engaging the second volley of missiles fired against their compariots on the Cape and at sea, their attention turned back to the enemy fleet, and its fighter escort. Principally, the enemy fleet would be blind without its airships, and so they were the priority target. Another wave of Blackadders was coming up having assembled in the sky above the Cape and, although interrupted by the Kargucag missile strikes that had caused serious damage to some of the airfields, far more planes were available than there was ability to launch them. All surviving runways were pressed into service, and Royal Engineers set to work at once attempting to repair those that had been damaged.

A squadron of twelve Blackadders came up first, however, that would be able to have a pivotal affect on the battle. Laden with ten Air Arrow SAMs (http://wikistates.outwardhosting.com/wiki/Sea_Arrow_missile), modified from Sea Arrow, each, they engaged the airships from more than 500km away with one hundred and twenty missiles that would become four hundred and eighty submunitions homing on the heat signatures of the airships, their engines and the power-sources driving the radar.

An increase number of Havenfighters from Cape King George, and Libertyfighters from the carriers, were coming up every few minutes to join in the battle for air superiority over the enemy fleet.

As the somewhat diminished cruiser squadrons launched another few hundred Sea Mace missiles, intending to finish the job, eight squadrons of Blackadders joined in with almost two hundred more, jamming efforts redoubled as more and more EW planes came to stand-off distance.

Down below, the submarines were moving. Diesel-electric hunter-killers were manoeuvering into the path the enemy transports would have to take on the way to the Cape, while SSNs moved to a stand-off ditsnace of one hundred kilometres behind and beside the enemy fleet. Four SSNs moved to position themselves beneath the enemy airships, to provide a blow that would certainly prove final if they survived the Air Arrow strike.

Meanwhile, the cruiser squadrons continued to press on, aiming to get to within 400km, at which point they and their destroyer escorts would be able to have a decisive impact on the aerial battle with their SAMs.

Within two minutes of the loss of several Clandonian satellites, four surveillance and several communication systems which caused loss of satellite television services, internet and mobile phones in the North West of the country. Panic was abound in the Western counties with rumours spread by local media and ham radio of invasion. Clandonian bombers went to their highest alert level as the main strategic forces took off to ensure the RAF had enough to counter any attempted sneak attack to the Eastern border air stations. With the country now at war around Haven and the world Clandonian forces assumed their highest threat level as Kings Order No.5 was extended and all reserve forces and those in the professional services that had retired or left were ordered to defend King, Country and Empire. Heavy fighting around Cape King George had reached the Admiralty in Southampton as they planned two hundred metres underground in Warminster, the Imperial Fleet would sail North to deal with any threats to the Arctic possessions, most importantly Cayuga Sea oil that provided 70% of the countries petroleum imports now that contracts with Doomingsland and other tyrannies had been banned under the Imperial Trading Act of 2008. In Petronas Sound two Clandonian fleet battleships were exchanging missile fire with what remained of the Kargucagstani fleet after it had taken a beating by the Imperial Praetonian Fleet.

As the first traces of light appeared in the sky to the East of Warminster Fleet Street and the morning news shows brought the first reports of war as the army prepared to head West into Krendakov.


Downing Street, 0300 Hours Warminster Time

"As you can see Prime Minister the Kargucagstani navy has been devastated by the Imperial Praetonian Navy's missiles and gunnery skills but with added Sea Lion RORSAT coverage we have concurred that the Kargucagstani navy is finished, our two battlefleets around the Cape will be ample along with Fleet Air Arm and Coastal Command aircraft."

The Sea Lord sat down, on the table a large projected map of the continent area with Clandonian forces in green along with Praetonian and Cottish League allies, a large concentration now on the border with Krendakov or moving along the highways or by air which had now been taken under state control for the duration of the war. All Clandonian carriers had agreed secretly in deals to relieve fuel duties to provide if war came 40% of their fleet, the same had been done with various haulage, rail and shipping companies. The lines of shipping leading North towards the oil and gas fields in the Cayuga Sea showed how serious the Crown intended to protect her own and citizens private property in the battle of liberty and freedom which was most sacred.

"The army is ready to move into Krendakov, I have no objections to awaiting for the Foreign Office to send off its communique first but I must warn you panic along the border is growing, the highways going in the Eastwards direction are already thronged with civilians fearing an invading foe, when they have not yet crossed the line of no return which is now obsolete. I will order my boys to roll on 0600 WST if we hear no reply."

"How does the message read then..."


Official Clandonian Response
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v338/madnukedude/clandoniansmallflag.png
Secure Communication to The Socialist Republic of Krendakov:

His Majesty's Government while in the past has had little or cordial relations with socialist countries would like to address the issues of the invasion by the forces of tyranny. Kargucagstani forces have overrun your border defence and have nearly crossed a proclaimed line that the Crown considers detrimental to peace on the continent. Following an attack on our satellite system we have been forced to declare war on The Neo-Fascist Conglomerate of Kargucagstan for this act. We advise you to destroy all infrastructure that could be militarily useful for their campaign and ask for your forces not to attack Clandonian or Royal Georgian League forces that will be advancing from the East to sure up defences. As a promise of this we will return your sovereignty post war and offer structural adjustment funds to rebuild infrastructure and assets destroyed in the war.


God Save the King


Prime Minister Sir David Sistilin



---


RAF Sealand, South Eastern Clandonia

RAF Strategic Air Command had decided to retaliate for the loss of several Clandonian satellites so ordered a targeted release and to begin blinding all Kargucagstani satellites with high powered lasers and to deploy T-2 'Titan' conventional ASATs against twenty Kargucagstan satellites in Northern Haven to disrupt as much as possible their satellite communication and information gathering while Clandonian forces would pour into Krendakov to begin systematically destroying all major infrastructure, railroads, motorways, airports, petroleum installations, communication centres and anything that military planners in Warminster deemed could aid their advance Eastwards.

At 0400 hours a squadron of RAF Shrike RAC-201's specially trained and adapted for satellite destruction took off armed with a fat T-2 Titan missile with a conventional warhead to destroy via a kinetic kill any enemy satellites that were on their orbit paths in the space above the northern continent. On the ground at all bomber bases around the country, in the subterranean and concrete hangers weapons igloos were empitied as the strategic bomber force was armed, fuelled and put on rotation bases with aircraft refuelled in the air keeping a force of at least 8,000 heavy bombers in the air, these included Sabre nuclear ramjets, B-22's and Blackadder Blackburn bombers.

Message to the Governor of Estonsko
from: the Mondothian National Commission
CC: Kingston Pact
Via: DFC-1237
Encrypt: Public
Decrypt: ******

The Cohenian provocation has gone on long enough, Our fight is not with the Estonskan people will will be treated a well as possible, or the Kingston Pact, though if they feel fit to tear themselves away from their war on slavery to attend this minor conflict, we will not hesitate to maintain our position.


Meanwhile, at the Gebua Marine Garrison
“Lookit Abdul, summore Arty! What is that now? Five or Six Arty groups since the last group that were'nt arty, What do they think they're gonna do with all those big guns? Not much to shoot at out here.”

“It's for the war of course, I'm sure there'll be plenty of targets wherever we get shipped off to.”

“You still on about that war? Look, it ain't gonna happen, 'sides, how you propose to fight a war with nothin' but artillery units? It just won't work.”

“Don't be silly Ahmed, most of the active units are mobilizing, before long, there'll be plenty of ground pounders ready to ship.”

“Ship to where? We ain't at war with anybody.”

“Not yet, but like I keep sayin', Haven the way it is, its only a matter of time before we get involved in some shootin.”

“We're neutral in this turkey shoot ya lout, and big enough to make it stick, nobody'll mess with that.”

“yea, sure, what planet are you on?”

After twenty four hours, the Mondothian Military was still on the move, it would take weeks for the full number of units on the move to reach positions from which they could attack the Cohenian presence on Estonsko, time that could ill be wasted. While troops and ships moved into position. Hopefully, the Cohenians would see the rate of preparation and believe themselves safe until their completion while the true plan remained hidden, even from the soldiers who would soon be carrying it out.

Carrier Division 36, Strobovia Strait Flotilla, Royal Cottish Navy
Just off the Petronas Sound

The three carriers and assorted escorts of Carrier Division 36 of the Royal Cottish Navy’s Strobovia Strait Flotilla steamed steadfast towards the Petronas Sound, their sharp bows slicing through the choppy seas as they moved towards the main fight that was taking place in the Sound, hopefully being undetected by the enemy. The emissions generated by the fleet were minimal, as they were operating the radars and sonars in the passive modes that didn’t shout out to anyone in the area that there was a substantial fleet there.

Carrier Division 36 had been dispatched from Tnemrot, where the three Type 94 Monarch class carriers, six Type 51 County class cruisers, sole Sovereign class battlecruiser (which also served as the division flagship), twenty-four Type 81 Cavalier class destroyers and nine Type 76 replenishment tankers had shown the Cottish flag and visited the friendly Tnemrotian ports, showing that Cotland was a friend of Tnemrot. After a few days of steaming through the waves, pushing the gas turbines to the maximum, the forty-three ship strong division had finally arrived in the Petronas Sound Theatre of Operations, as the naval tacticians called the area.

Having uplinked with the friendly forces, the Cottish continuously downloaded the latest estimates and intelligence reports on the location of the enemy fleet from communications satellites via encrypted datalinks, which was combined with their own intelligence assets, namely radar ocean reconnaissance satellites (RORSATs) and other reconnaissance satellites, to provide the Cottish with a pretty good fix on the Kargucagstani fleet’s location. It was good enough for the admiral in command of the division to authorize a strike mission.

So, on the flight decks of the three fleet aircraft carriers, FA-77N Sea Kovas fighters, FA-77NE Electronic Sea Kovas electronic warfare aircraft and RAC-201N Sea Shrike naval strike fighters were lining up and being continuously launched. Several of the division’s E-2D Advanced Hawkeye AWACS aircraft were already in the air, providing real-time intelligence and airborne command and control as the strike group was beginning to form into squadron-sized formations near the carriers, whose escorts had assumed defensive formations that would allow them to provide a virtually impenetrable air defense barrier that had the potential to stop any attack the Kargucagstani could throw at them.

The tactical staff that had devised the strike plan knew of course that the bulk of the Kargucagstani fleet had already been wiped out by the Praetonian counterstrike, but they still didn’t want to lose any more Cottish naval aviators than they had to. Therefore, the first aircraft to see action in this engagement would be the FA-77N Sea Kovas fighters and their FA-77NE brethren that were modified for electronic warfare.

Flying below 1,000 meters at subsonic speeds, a number of the Sea Kovas fighters were headed for their launch point, no more than 250 kilometers from the Kargucagstani fleet’s location, where they would launch their weaponry. Only, they weren’t really carrying weaponry, but rather TLL-1 Tactical Decoys (http://z4.invisionfree.com/NSDraftroom/index.php?showtopic=2342&hl=) which had roughly the same radar signature as the RAC-201Ns that both the Cottish and Praetonians operated. The general idea was that these decoys would attract the attention of the surviving Kargucagstani air-defense vessels, which would then be attacked by the FA-77NEs which were equipped with anti-radiation missiles that would disable their radars, and thus rendering them incapable of threatening the real Cottish strike, which would follow less than ten minutes after the opening “strike.” A total of thirty FA-77Ns equipped with eight TLL-1As each for a total of 240 TLL-1As and twenty FA-77NEs, two thirds of the division’s airborne electronic warfare aircraft, armed with eight LBM.37 Karma anti-radiation missiles each for a total of 160 Karmas would be used for the opening strike. The FA-77NEs would upon detection of the hostile radars fire off the missiles before starting intensive jamming of the battlespace, making it less likely that the enemy would be able to detect that they were shooting at cheap decoys instead of expensive aircraft until it was too late.

Following the opening attack, less than ten minutes later, were the bulk of the division’s strike aircraft. A total of 120 RAC-201N Sea Shrikes, forty from each carrier, each armed with four LSM.71B Fenris anti-shipping missiles. The Fenris was the Cottish designation for the Kampferian Ra-33 Schneller Pfeil (http://z4.invisionfree.com/NSDraftroom/index.php?showtopic=3141), a supersonic missile with a 150 kilogram HE fragmentation warhead behind a penetrator cap that would allow the missile to pierce through ship armor before the warhead detonated and caused fires and destruction aboard the unfortunate target ship. A total of 480 missiles were being carried aboard the 120 RAC-201Ns, which would target principally the surviving Katgucagstani cruisers and destroyers, with two missiles assigned per ship, with the rest of the missiles attacking the Katgucagstani corvettes and fast attack craft that had so far survived the Praetonian onslaught.

The RAC-201Ns were flying towards the firing point at Mach 1.15, the highest velocity that the engines could supercruise due to the four externally mounted LSM.71Bs and the four defensive IRIS-T short-range IIR-guided air to air missiles, at an altitude of 8,000 meters. For air to air protection, they would rely mostly on the FA-77Ns, which by now had fired off their TLL-1As and had four LLM.67A Kampspyd medium-range air to air missiles and two IRIS-T short-range air to air missiles in their internal weapons bays, as well as the Model 278 27mm internal cannon for dogfighting; and the jammers in the FA-77NEs.

The RAC-201Ns would fire off their missiles from 200 kilometers out, giving the Fenris missiles plenty of leeway to reach and attack their assigned targets, before turning around again and heading for home to refuel and rearm.

As the aircraft assembled into the attack formations and began the attack, closely coordinated by the E-2Ds and powerful sensors in the ships and those received from the allies, the forty-three warships continued to press on to get within range of the ship-mounted anti-shipping weaponry while the powerful sensors on the cruisers and destroyers kept a keen eye out for any possible counterattack, in which case the Sea Arrow SAMs and other defensive armament stood ready to defend Carrier Division 36.

The division wasn’t quite within range of the mighty SBM.70 Miðgarðsorm ( http://z4.invisionfree.com/NSDraftroom/index.php?showtopic=3797) missiles mounted in the Sovereign class battlecruiser RCNS Blodig Korall or the six Type 51s yet, but when they came within range, the surviving Katgucagstani battleship and whichever Katgucagstani major surface combatants that remained afloat would be doomed.

Ferrum Lupus Border Zone, Chevrokian Hjeltland

The deployment to the border zone would be short-lived as the First Battalion, 25th Special Forces Group (Airborne) was recalled to the Seventeenth Army field headquarters in Streymnes where they would meet with their Second Battalion counterparts newly-arrived from RAS Charleston in Cravan. The careful positions created by Sergeants Pegler and Ford would have been abandoned during the night hours as they set up a number of concealed automated audio and motion surveillance devices for the detection of any movement across the border over the North Hjeltland Plain which would be linked to the rest of the ISR equipment already in place throughout not only Hjeltland but Holy Marsh as well.

Master Sergeant Pegler slung his own rifle over his back as he and Ford, along with half of their team, made their way to their pick-up zone and the waiting MH-105D helicopter as the AFSOC loadmaster waved them forward, the other six members of the team approaching from the opposite side of the PZ, having cleared the perimeter. The massive rotorwash of the aircraft flattened the tall grass as the wheels set down and the Alpha Team boarded at the rear compartment ramp, greeted by a fellow team as they took their seats. Within fifty seconds the MH-105D was lifting off into the sky and en route to Streymnes. Ford rested her G18A4 rifle against her knee as she spoke with one of the team members from B Company, "Any idea what this is about?"

The field engineer Staff Sergeant shook his head as he shouted over the noise of the engines, "No fucking clue, all I know is that they're pulling us off the line and replacing those positions with folks from the 50th Armoured Cav!"

"I can only assume it's something important if the whole battalion is being recalled," Piped in a weapons sergeant across the compartment, "I heard that second battalion is waiting for us, so it has to be big!"

The entire zone along the border being watched by 1-25th SFGA's positions only a few kilometres from the border had been replaced with automated devices while the 50th Armoured Cavalry Regiment took up concealed positions farthur back at a more distant thirty six kilometres from the border, albeit more heavily armed than special forces soldiers, with their armoured M50 Lucas vehicles running on their APUs to minimize their signatures and the scout teams dug in with carefully constructed positions, each scout team of four would construct a pair of two-man, full-sized fighting positions on each flank of their accompanying fighting vehicle for use with their respective MG146 light machine guns. Although prepared for a quick withdrawl should the Doomani attack, the positions were still well-made as they were dug full depth for a man at six feet to stand comfortably, the earth used to fill olive drab sandbags for supporting walls with a roof made from wooden planks, a few inches of earth and reinforced aircraft-grade aluminum plates manufactured specifically for fighting position covers. Local foliage was used to cover the fighting holes with scrim netting concealing the observation ports from the interior and the exit, which led out in two directions, both angled at 90 degrees. Inside the cavalry troopers were able to use the same 20x Power M49A2 Spotting Telescopes on the M15 tripods as their sniper counterparts, although with additional infrared and night observation devices for all-round observation during the day and night. In addition to this, they were able to sight their light machine guns with a similar tripod, a simpler variant of the standard M6A1 used for sustained fire mounts. Given the more elite status afforded by the Army's Corps of Cavalry, the troopers wore the Utility Battle Dress in the newer Disruptive Army Pattern II (http://i191.photobucket.com/albums/z317/Aequatio/Camouflage/DARPAT3-woodland.png) along with their "Defender" modular armoured vests, M2008 Pattern webbing equipment and covers for their M5 lightweight helmets. On top of these they wore the bulky Mark.4A protective suits with their M108 Rebreathers in easily-reachable haversacks secured against their thighs, both would protect the cavalry troopers against any biological or chemical attack long enough to escape the contaminated zones.

A good sixteen kilometres back from the forward positions were the independent gun teams of the 50th ACR artillery battalion, using M190 self-propelled guns dug into expediant fire support positions with a number of rounds ready to fire at the time a request was made. Although the guns were positioned in singles and well apart from each other, the inertial navigation systems used in the M190 allowed them to fire together on the same fire mission without having to be in close proximity to each other as they would have traditionally been decades ago and allowed for the entire battery to present a significant target to enemy counterbattery fire or tacitcal air support. The primary munitions of choice were the 155mm M687A2 and M864A3 submunition carriers, both chosen for their effectiveness against massed armoured formations, especially mechanized infantry and supply train vehicles, the latter chosen for their nearly 200% increase in area in the target landing event over older M483A2 munitions.

Operating from a safe distance from the border zone were entire batteries of M197 multiple launch rocket systems of the Division-level artillery support, capable of strike missions ranging from interdiction to suppression of air defences using their inertial-guided 250mm rockets with dual-purpose improved conventional munitions or the even more accurate MGM-331 Sabre tactical ballistic missiles for deep strike fire missions.

Sergeant Diana Parris, an M197 crew chief with the 24th Field Artillery Brigade, stood next to the vehicle as the 360-degree launcher was being loaded with one of the 250mm rocket "six-packs" and a single MGM-331A Sabre with a Block I submunition warhead for area attacks. The sergeant pulled a cigarette package out from a pocket on the front of her Mark.4A RNBC suit before jumping down from the cab of the vehicle. Her black leather combats sunk slightly in the grass at the side of the vehicle as she lit the cigarette, shielding it with her hand from the breeze. Taking in a drag from the cigarette, she rested her back against the hull of the launcher and took off her crewman's helmet, leaving her dirty-blonde hair mussed from being confined for the entire drive from the city of Streymnes to the battery's area of operation. Parris wiped the moisture off her forehead with the back of her Nomex-gloved hand as one of the gunners came around from the front of the cab, his helmet replaced with the Hunter green service beret and the brigade's low-visibility cap badge pinned to its front as he smoked his own cigarette, "What are you thinking, sarnt?" He asked after exhaling the blue smoke.

"I'm thinking we're going to be seeing some busy times coming," She replied turning towards the young man, "Just make sure that the crew has those supply schedules up to date, I don't want us to run out of anything in the middle of a fire mission," She said as the gunner nodded and walking off to the camouflaged battery headquarters, passing the crew in their own Mark.4A suits and the M197B MLRS support vehicle.

While the 50th ACR made up the forward-most positions of Aequatian forces within the border zone, the rest of L Corps sat behind them with three "Legacy" Divisions of armoured and heavy infantry battalions digging into their own fighting positions with a plethora of combat support and service support units at hand. Positioned and well-hidden with the cavalry troops were M9A3 Vampyr air defence vehicles armed with the M742 "Duster II" Anti-Aircraft Gun System alongside the accompanying jeep-borne light air defence teams armed with FIM-339A "Star Flare" MANPADS, both units scanning the skies with electro-optical systems to avoid passive detection. Back from the forward positions were batteries of self-propelled launchers for the MIM-360C "Star Hunter" SHORAD missiles which, datalinked through their own radar suites which used their phased array suites to periodically and unpredictably scan the skies, kept watch for aircraft that would challenge the Free World forces in Hjeltland.

Although the Seventeenth Army's ground radar stations fared little better than their Chevrokian counterparts in detecting or tracking the Concordite Havenbombers as they crossed the border zone to strike at the Free World air search radar stations. The low-altitude flights afforded the close defence systems such as Duster II and Star Flare opportunities to take on the enemy. The hidden light air defence teams, directed through rough positions noted by the mobile radar sets and watching the skies with wide-angle infrared telescopes, were able to track the Havenbombers long enough to activate their missiles as the extremely-sensitive focal plane array imaging infrared seekers with passive ultraviolet tracking locked onto the aircraft. Private Todd Harper hoisted his launcher and took aim with the weapon as the buzzer announced the missile was prepared to fire as the detector's logic had made the lock onto the reduced infrared signature of a Havenbomber as it approached their position, pulling the trigger, the missile was ejected with a cold launch and its short-firing boost motor ignited as it accelerated off into the sky at Mach 2.2 after its prey while its forward control fins and tailfins extended, eventually reaching a top velocity of Mach 2.6 as they pursued their targets.

The fifty low-flying Havenbombers would find themselves constantly tracked and fired upon by hundreds of the small missiles, nearly six per aircraft for their average time in the short duration flight over L Corps' positions, although this would not be the end of their ordeal as scores of M9A3 Vampyr air defence vehicles opened fire, tracking the Concordite aircraft with their passive and combined FLIR and electro-optical targeting systems, using short bursts from their X-band radar to make quick corrections as they fired the 30mm rounds into the sky as the two pairs of linked long-recoil guns on each vehicle filled the air with almost 7,200 rounds per minute total. The firing of the more "manual" systems and the detection of the incoming aircraft afforded the gunners manning the more sophisticated MIM-360C "Star Hunter" surface-to-air missiles as Sergeant Georgina Hendricks sat in the commander's seat of a Tracked Star Hunter air defence vehicle, datalinked to the other detection and tracking systems, she activated her own vehicle's missiles for launch against the approaching targets. Using the same combined imaging infrared/ultraviolet dual-band focal plane array from the AIM-360A Advanced Close Engagement Air-to-Air Missile, Sergeant Hendricks fired off a pair of missiles, separated by around thirty seconds each, as was common practice with the SHORAD practices of the "cloudpunchers" as the other Track Star Hunters within the area did the same to their own targets as the missiles streaked into the sky at nearly 1,200 metres per second.

0918 Havenite Rosdivan Local Time
520 kilometers above Doomingsland

GRAB-XVI led a lonely life, patiently circling the globe. In a few years its orbit would decay, sending the satellite into a fiery death as it reentered the atmosphere. For now though, the satellite continued on its journey, receiving electronics intelligence data and passing it along back to the Rosdivani commands that operated it. As a spate of radio traffic drifted upwards towards the heavens, GRAB-XVI took no special heed of it. Finding it to be of the type that it was supposed to listen for, it dutifully recorded and passed it on to its superiors.

0922 HRLT
Even higher above Doomingsland

As the Doomani ACI-4 took off and began their supersonic cruise, they emitted a great deal of thermal radiation. This radiation carried in measurable quantities even to the ballistic missile early warning satellites and their extremely sensitive seekers. The satellites themselves didn't care, merely noted the change and passed it along to the ground.

0928 HRLT
Havenite Rosdivan Air Combat Central Command Center

General Robert Rohr sipped from a cup of coffee as he took a look at the main board of the command center. Occupying the majority of the far wall was an LCD monitor displaying an aerial chart of Havenite Rosdivan and its surroundings. All known aircraft were continuously plotted and color coded to provide information about the type of aircraft, civilian aircraft being tagged green for instance.

The phone on the right arm rest of his chair jingled briefly, annoying General Rohr until he picked it up.

"General Rohr, Central Command here."

"Sir, this is Major Ward with Early Warning Command. We have received positive indication of a major raid in progress by the Doomani Imperium," reported the voice at the other end of the telephone. This had the effect of bringing General Rohr to full alertness far more quickly than the coffee would have.

"What's the source, raid count, and heading?" Those were the important questions. A stereotypical 'Are you sure?' was not only useless and extremely unprofessional, it would have impugned the major's capability.

"Approximately ten minutes ago, heightened radio transmissions consistent with a major aerial operation began to be received by our electronics intelligence satellites. A few minutes later, early warning satellites detected numerous Slow Walkers, infrared signatures consistent with afterburning supersonic vehicles, taking off from Doomingsland proper. They're currently headed out into the Strait of Doomanum, we believe that they'll turn south towards us," replied the major quickly and crisply.

"They could be heading after the Navy," responded General Rohr doubtfully. There were two entire fleets currently patrolling south of the strait of Doomanum. "After that attack last night, the Doomani aren't going to be all that pleased with them."

"Correct sir. However, it may be headed towards Havenite Rosdivan all the same. If so, we're predicting arrival in approximately six hours based on their present speed."

"Thank you, keep me informed," said General Rohr as he hung up the phone. Standing up, he made his way over to a rail that served to keep the more inept of airmen from falling off the mezzanine into the gaggle of computers and airmen below them.

"Everyone listen up," he called out, getting their attention. "We have a potential strike inbound. There is not enough information to confirm that it is inbound, so we will remain at Air Defense Warning White. However, this may turn into the real thing; therefore I want every fighter and SAM command alert with as many vehicles available with as many weapons as they can in the event that this is the real thing."

Phones began flying out of their cradles as those airmen responsible for communications began to relay the word down the line.

1037 HRLT
30,000 feet above the ocean

The hum of the Hawkeye's turboprops was extremely annoying, but most aircrew eventually learned how to drown it out. Those who couldn't didn't remain aircrew for very long. Jeff Daniel's was still fairly new but the green glow of his radar scope currently was so fascinating that the hum of the turboprops seemed to fade completely away.

"Hey skipper, I've got a massive paint. Bearing is 330, heading 165, flight level 600, making 920 knots, distance three hundred miles. Raid assessment is over two hundred and climbing," he reported over the intercom.

"Roger that, power down and go passive," came the voice of the pilot back as the Hawkeye turned into a steep descent. The necessary information had been gathered and was being passed on, now it was time to get the hell out of Dodge.

1215 HRLT
Airports across Havenite Rosdivan

"Your attention please, your attention please. Due to an air defense alert, civilian air traffic throughout Havenite Rosdivan has been grounded for the time-being. We are currently at Air Defense Warning Yellow. There are emergency shelters available beneath the terminals for those who wish to make use of them."

1337 HRLT
HRAC4

"General Rohr? Over the Horizon Radar has picked up the enemy bomber force, speed consistent with orbital estimates and earlier Hawkeye reports. Orbital has detected numerous additional supersonic platforms," reported a young airman, barely out of his A school. "They believe these are fighters sent to escort in the bombers on the attack run, probably of the Aquila or Kovas types."

"Fighters? They've accelerated rather early; even supercruise isn't all that efficient," mused General Rohr. "This is either an ALCM raid or they're bringing in tankers very close in on the heels of those fighters. They'll need to bring in a very large number of tankers as it is, does the Navy have anything going on with regards to that?"

"Yes sir," replied the airman, "They've had some success with SIGINT and they've sent out a strike package along a fairly broad swath where they think the tankers are."

"Good, if we we hit those tankers the fighters won't make it back, possibly not even the bombers depending on how they set things up. In the mean time, raise status to Air Defense Warning Red across the entire colony and keep the fighters orbiting no more than 400 nautical miles off the coast."

1340 HRLT
Across Havenite Rosdivan

At a single electronic command, thousands of air raid sirens began their dire wailing, a banshee's cry warning of the death to come by air. The streets were not as busy as they ordinarily might have been when the alarm sounded. As the alert signal had sounded an hour and a half prior, many persons had taken the opportunity to evacuate the cities while they could, if they possessed the means to do so, or to move preemptively into the air raid shelters. Even still, most people had not, hoping that the alert would remain only an alert and not transform into an actual air raid warning.

1422 HRLT
41,000 feet above the ocean

Lieutenant Moore was bored as he flew out to try and find the Doomani tankers. The Navy had, rather appropriately, concluded that:
A) There was a significant number of enemy fighters and bombers approaching Havenite Rosdivan
B) These fighters could not return home without retanking
C) Quite possibly the bombers could not do so as well
D) Therefore, there was a large number of tankers out there
E) Destroying the tankers would result in the destruction or internment of aircraft dependent on them for refueling and severely cripple further Doomani operations.

Thus, Lieutenant Moore was out here, led by the vague indications of SIGINT and backtracking guesswork, aided only by the fact that a fleet's fighters could spread out and cover a hell of a lot of distance and that the presumably hundreds, or more likely thousand or more, tankers would cover a very large amount of airspace.

Two minutes had passed since his last check of the radar and so he activated it briefly once more to send out a low powered scan. This time, however, a series of contacts appeared near the end of his radar's scan capability. Tankers? The contacts were certainly large enough to do so. Non-Cooperative Target Recognition was still iffy at this range, but it would resolve as he approached closer. They certainly didn't fit any normal airliner routine nor were they squawking as civilian airliners, making it highly likely that they were not in fact airliners, a conclusion granted more evidence by the appearance of even more similar contacts as Lieutenant Moore approached.

Lieutenant Moore smiled as he pickled off his external fuel tanks, their remaining fuel dropping away to the ocean along with them, and forwarded the information to the rest of his squadron mates and higher command, causing the entire spread out force of F-35C Lightning IIs to slowly converge, turning the line into a spread out half circle, were one to view it from above. Even were there to be escorting fighters, they would be hard pressed to do much against the Navy fighters. Each of the nearly six hundred fighters carried four MBDA Meteors internally and given the lack of speed and maneuverability of the tankers, the No-Escape Zone and maximum range were nearly synonymous terms.

Softly, Lieutenant Moore started singing to himself, "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas..."

Camp Harrison, Cravan
OOC: Written jointly with Crave.

Jones had never been one for office settings, preferring to leave such duties to his executive officer and staff, and was much more at ease commanding his battalion in the field, leading from the front if possible. "Follow me, do as I do..." Echoed in his head the motto he had memorized while training as an officer cadet so many years before and followed to the letter still. He was meeting with 2 Commando's S-4 and had been discussing the arrival of a number of superfluous items, such as the M1951 khaki drab canvas weapon cases, which were disliked greatly by the Aequatian paratroopers, and even surplus crew-served weapons for the unit's number. The lieutenant-colonel dismissed the young captain as the lance corporal orderly entered with Colonel Wilkinson and Lieutenant Klatch, greeting with a salute, "My condolences on your nation's loss, colonel, leftenant, but I doubt you're here to explain to me the situation in the capital," He said as the orderly was dismissed.

"Aye, I'm not here for that," Wilkinson replied, "However it is somewhat related. As I'm sure you're aware, this turn of events puts us in a precarious position. We're considered a frontline, first-response reactionary unit as paratroopers and as such it'd be advisable to start preparing to be put on full alert."

"Of course, colonel, 2 Commando has been training every waking minute since their arrive here in-camp," Said Jones as he stood in front of his desk, leaning back against it in his battle dress uniform and combat boots, "Do we have a time frame for mobilization yet?"

"Nothing official. Really, though, I'd expect the next few hours. After that, it's anyone's guess as to how long it'd take to be deployed. I'm sure your boys and gals up with the Chevrokians would appreciate further reinforcement, which is likely where we'd be headed first."

"All right, I'll make sure my company commanders and staff officers are aware of that fact. Have you been in dialogue with your RAS liaisons yet as to the method of our deployment?" The veteran officer asked as he collected his maroon beret off his desk, "If Hjeltland is our AO, I trust that means there won't be a jump involved?"

"Yeah, a jump would be very unlikely unless there suddenly were no runways up there. I'd imagine we'd be shipped up by some heavy air transport, U.4's most likely. I'd imagine mechanized elements would be close behind. Once in-theatre helos will be our main mode of transport."

Jones fixed hs beret as he put it on and looked at the Cravanian, "All right, my people will be ready to go when the word comes down, as for our heavy equipment, I'll let my S-4 discuss packing arragements with the RAS movers," He rose to his feet, "Anything else I need to know for now?"

"Nothing as far as I know," Wilkinson said with a chuckle. "The word for us to mobilize will come anytime now. After that we just sit here with our thumbs up our asses."

"Hurry up and wait, huh?" Jones said with a chuckle of his own, "I'll tend to my paratroopers and make sure they're equipped and rested for the call," He said as he noticed a subdued Aequatian service badge from the Air Assault School next to Wilkinson's Cravanian jumpwings, "Sir, if you don't mind me asking, when were you at Big-A?" He asked, referring to Athena Army Airfield outside San Allimos in Aequatio.

"Oh? Ah, I suppose you mean this," he said, removing his beret and looking at the badge himself. "Seems like just yesterday I got them. They're not from Athena, but they are from near San Allimos. Around one-twenty klicks northeast. The four-two-eight was up there operating jointly with some Aequatian units. What was originally just supposed to be some desert exercises turned into a full on op when we were deployed into Olympus

The lieutenant-colonel nodded solemnly, "Olympus, there was an ugly incident if I ever recall one," He said, "Airborne and the 14th Armoured fighting the Seppies, rolling right into a hornet's nest and facing some of the stiffest fighting for its time, I was a platoon commander for the 5th Airborne across the country, but we kept up to date with each action."

"I was a platoon commander in the midst of it. My unit was only in the city for a few days total, but I remember those few days as some of the longest of my life. I still remember it like it was yesterday."

"I trust you got your people out of it okay though?" He asked, "I remember they decided to just pull out and let the Air Force flatten the city."

"Yeah. We lost a few men, though," Wilkinson said somberly, to which Klatch lowered his head. Klatch's own pin glinted slightly. "But through and through our losses were minimal compared to most other units. Still, a loss is a loss. Our joint Cravanian and Aequatian unit suffered quite a bit on the Aequatian side." In particular Wilkinson thought of the Aequatian Captain Bryer, who's command Wilkinson took charge of after he was struck down by a rocket propelled grenade.

"I remember that, I still have the citation for Captain Bryer they printed in the newspaper for his posthumous awarding of the Distinguished Service Cross framed at home," Said Jones, "His courage is still an inspiration to my generation of officers, we honour his memory still today by leading our soldiers from the front."

"He was a great leader. Perhaps one of the best I've served under," Wilkinson remarked. "To think this all happened so long ago. I remember every millisecond of it."

"Time becomes one long moment for all of us, I still remember every drop and action myself," He said producing a package of cigarettes from one of his shirt's pockets and offering one to Wilkinson, "It's just not something that one can forget... or should in any case."

"Thanks," Wilkinson said as he took a cigarette. "And you couldn't be any more correct about that."

Lighting the cigarette with a silver lighter and doing the same for Wilkinson, Jones snapped it shut and set it back in his pocket with the package, "I must say, though, that it eases my mind knowing that the officer above me on the chain has the experience you do, we have enough officers with their career solely on their minds and its dangerous."

Wilkinson took a drag. "I know what you're saying. We have plenty of kids around here who are like that, too. Most of them fresh out of the university. That's where mostly all of our officers come from these days."

"I led a course at OCS last year on infantry platoon maneuvers and all they could talk about was how quickly they could get to brigade and regimental staff positions, it was disconcerting, especially since I refused a jump to brigadier after an operation in British Londinium years back so I could stay with my men," He said exhaling the bluish smoke, "I have no problem passing on my knowledge and experience, but the brass just doesn't understand that you do it for the man next to you."

"I know what you mean," Wilkinson said in agreement. "Everyone wants to be an officer nowadays. It's all about the pay and the college... the recognition. Barely anyone wants to do it for the guy, or gal, next to them," he said after taking another drag. "Hopefully once they get into combat that changes and they realize that bullets don't care what your rank is."

"Too true, mate," Jones nodded as he ashed part of the cigarette into an ashtray sitting on his desk, "Combat does tend to become the ultimate equalizer, status as officers and the new technology doesn't change anything when the time comes where the metal meets the meat."

"Heh," Wilkinson chuckled as he stamped out his cigarette in the ash tray. "Couldn't say it better myself. In any case, I think it best I go ahead and get a report from Division HQ. The paperwork's probably already been filed and the call should be placed momentarily. I'll send word along to your office when we're put up on alert. It's been nice to make your acquaintance, Colonel," He said extending his hand.

"All right, thank you, Colonel," The Aequatian turned to Klatch, "Leftenant, I appreciate you coming down to see me in person," He said turning back to Wilkinson and shaking his hand as the Cravanians exited the office.

On the parade ground, Captain Pollack led Echo Company as they marched in full equipment for field conditions, as they had been since the awoke from their few hours sleep upon arrival. Holding the forestock of his G18A4k carbine as he stepped aside from his headquarters section, Pollack looked back through the eye holes on his M108 Rebreather as the company's 1 Platoon marched past him with weapons in hand. The heavy Mark.4 protective suits, their gloves and overboots all sitting atop full battle carrying order, took their toll on the fatigued paratroopers as they marched, a few having difficulty in keeping pace.

First Sergeant Nathen West, Echo's Company Sergeant-Major, stood to the side of the formation and approached Pollack and spoke through the M108 mask's external vocalizer, "Captain, some official in the capital was assassinated, shot by a sniper it seems," He said, slinging his G18A4 rifle over his back, "The platoons are worried, they're concerned about a quick deployment."

"I don't blame them," Replied the captain as he turned to 2 Platoon as it marched by, "You're bouncing! Stop it!" He shouted as the paratroopers tried to correct their movement before turning back to the sergeant, "I'm sure the old man will be out soon enough to let us know we're packing up and leaving Cravan behind."

Echo, just as the other three companies that made up 2 Commando, would continue to train in different ways around the base, Foxtrot and Golf companies were both running their own fieldcraft refreshers and operation drills around the base while Hotel, the battalion weapons company, occupied the range for their weapons. All throughout the day the chatter of 40mm automatic grenade launchers sent rounds down range, Gremlin anti-tank missiles impacted on targets with their shaped-charge warheads and 120mm mortar rounds dug craters into the earth.

Camp Osbourne, Carpanthium, Cravanian Overseas Territories

The region-wide call to arms even reached the Aequatian Army's Carpanthium Augmentation Task Force (CATFOR) to the Imperial Cravanian Army's garrison forces in the small province deep in Western Haven. Camp Osbourne served as a base of operations for two distinctive Aequatian units under CATFOR, the 88th Engineer Brigade (Heavy) (Separate) and the 924th Aviation Brigade (Separate), were deployed with their Cravanian garrison. Aircraft crew chief First Sergeant Tim Ward greeted Captain Michael Bridges as the officer stepped off the halting M1296 light truck and walked over to the waiting UH-96L Bagheera transport helicopter, "Good afternoon, Mike, looks like things are finally getting interesting around here."

The officer smiled as he set his gloves inside his flight helmet, “Looks so,” He replied walking towards the side door of the aircraft, “Rumours say that the Doomani are ready to roll over Northford and push us off into the Strob right to we’re going to be attacking right into Nuclearum.”

“I guess we’ll never know, huh?” Said the sergeant as he stepped back and started inspecting the aircraft as the crew hooked themselves into the UH-96L helicopter. After going around the helicopter and returning to the cockpit, he gave Bridges the signal to start engines as the two turbine engines roared to life and the rotors started to rotate. Waving his arms back and forth as he marshaled the helicopter out onto the tarmac of the miniature airbase, Ward’s yellow reflective vest and his DARPAT II UBD uniform ruffled in the rotorwash as it he shot Bridges a quick salute and the Bagheera slowly lifted off into the sky. The aircraft would be supporting operations with the 88th Engineer Brigade, the captain’s aircraft heading back to Millingston to pick up officers that were part of the CATFOR headquarters and bring them to meet with field commanders and inspect the Aequatian forces that were currently mobilizing with their Cravanian counterparts around Carpanthium.

Although the Aequatian units were mainly in combat support and service support roles, they were nonetheless just as important as the major combat units preparing themselves for coming operations. Peering out the portside window of the cockpit, Bridges could see the deployments starting as the large highways were busy with massive heavy equipment transports hauling vehicles of all types for the thousands of troops deployed for garrison duties. His attention returning to the cockpit, the captain inserted a small USB cable into a music player as Megadeth's "High Speed Dirt" played through the aircraft's intercom system, the 19-year old door gunner mouthing the words with a wide grin as the helicopter banked slightly to correct its course.

REVAL MILITARY BASE, ESTONSKAR ISLANDS

Popinski sat on a bench, reading various military papers about the pending invasion by Mondoth. He knew he was in no direct harm, hell, it was Mondoth. The Mondothians were not the brightest people in all of Haven, claiming land that wasn't theirs and hadn't been theirs for centuries. It confused Popinski why Mondoth was going to invade, anyways. They've been spamming Estonskar emails, Estonskar post offices, it was too much. If an Estonskar wanted to be a Mondoth citizen, then he'd move to Mondoth. But, no one did move. Everyone was happy as Cohenians, and what wasn't to like about it? Compared to the dark, industrial wasteland of the mainland Estonsko was a wonderful, warm, sandy paradise. So Popinski sat there, reading the counter attack plans. Reval was already nearly invulnerable from attack, probably one of the most fortified places in all of the empire. It was surrounded by SAM encampments, missile silos, and the mighty Estevak Guard. The Estevak Guard were the warriors back in the day of colonization, and their name lives on as the prime soldiers of Estonsko. They were equipped with various weapons that were acquired from the Havenic Trading Company, long out of business. Everyone was waiting for the Mondothians to make their move. Popinski flipped a coin to the little boy that was shining his shoes, a hefty three yurans for a shoeshine. "Thanks, mister!" The boy said, smiling and running off to find a new client. Popinski smirked, walking off to one of the more brassy military bases.

He stepped inside a base, greeted by several turning and saluting officers. "No need for that," he stated as he kept walking deeper into the military complex. He walked alone for a good fifteen minutes, hearing the occasional "good day, admiral" from officers in the base until he reached a room that had a big sign stating that only authorized personnel were allowed in. Popinski slid a card through the door and moved his body down a bit for a retinal scan. "Good morning, Fleet Admiral," a text to speech computer responded as the door opened. The Admiral moved in the room, the numerous generals and admirals and marshals stood up quickly and saluted him. "There's no need for that, sirs." he said while taking his seat. Popinski removed his hat, placing it on the table in front of him. "How are things going?"

A General with at least ten pounds of metal on his chest stood up, "well, Admiral, we're unsure of what the men in Mondoth are going to be doing. We are preparing for an amphibious assault and and air strikes." The General walked over to a projector, turning it on and showing a map of the islands and Mondoth. "We figure they will be using their islands as bases to launch the assault, all islands of the Estonskar archipelago have their beaches fortified with soldiers, howitzers, mortars, anti-air guns, and anti-shipping missiles. We have let out a general warning to all nations that unauthorized planes flying one hundred fifty kilometers from Estonskar shores will be shot down. Of course, allied planes can fly over as often as they want. But it'll at least give us some warning should those asses in Mondoth attack.

Another man stood up, again with at least ten pounds of metal on his chest. He was an air force man, Estonsko's Air marshal. "Sir, if I may?" Popsinki nodded. "We have several encampments of fighters prepared to fly upon any plane getting into the one hundred fifty kilometer exclusion zone. Should any plane fly into that exclusion zone, it will be viewed as a direct declaration of war. We have permission from His Imperial Majesty's government to do this."

"Very well then," Popinski stretched out. "I assume time will only tell what's next, eh?" The men all nodded at him. "Tell the guys at Northford our plans. Let 'em know this - one fifty kilos, it's a declaration of war. Until then, do not attack."

“Just over four weeks have passed since the communist oppressors to the east forced us into action. We have made great strides in that time. Large swathes of the Krendian countryside are now in our outstretching hands, and numerous cities are liberated every day. Now is our time, sons and daughters of the State. For years we have been ridiculed, belittled as the generic ‘bad guy’ of the Democrat’s films, video games, novels and stories. We have been portrayed as evil and heartless killers, bent of enslaving the masses of the supposedly free. But I say today, we are the ones fighting for freedom! It is against the restrictions of the Questerians, the Praetonians, the Clandonians that we struggle! We will fight, and will win! Today is….”

Michael rolled up the window. He had heard the speech a dozen times since he gave it the night before. It was being broadcast on a constant loop from every speaker in the nation, ensuring that the entire populace would hear and benefit from it. It was one of his shorter addresses to the nation, only ten minutes, but it was effective and got the point across. The people of the Conglomerate would need the moral boost soon enough.

Petronas Sound

The crew of the Philo sat in the dark, high above the water. The only thing that still had a noticeable amount of power were the RAMs, which were silently waiting for the incoming missiles. They had a while to wait, however, as the Praetonian weapons were detected by the ship’s powerful radar the moment they were launched. Immediately an equal number of counter missiles had been launched from the arsenal airships that were closing with the AWACS from the rear. Despite being a hundred kilometers from the AWACS, which were themselves a hundred kilometers from the remains of the Kargucagstani fleet, the missiles still had ample interception range. Intelligence reports stated that the Air Arrow missiles, 8 meters in length, would splinter into four smaller “Air Dart” missiles when they came within 25 kilometers of their target. The missiles wouldn’t get that far.

Despite the powerful jammers being employed against them, the AWACS’ double-digit megawatt radars were easily able to overcome it, with only a slight reduction in tracking range. Turning the tables on the attacking force, the Kargucagstani opened up with anti-jamming missiles and jammers of their own. This was followed by progressive waves of AShMs and AAMs from the arsenal airships. Each aircraft could hold 500 tons of missiles, and there were just over a thousand arsenal ships, for a grand total of fifty thousand missiles. They could not all be launched at once, of course. That would be foolish. But they would be fired, that was for certain.

The initial firing had been long over, the missiles being fired in the first few minute of the battle. Now, as the battle on the sea ended with the total annihilation of the Kargucagstani fleet, the airship captains finally took over command. They ordered a full-scale retreat towards the mainland at the same time they loosed the full brunt of their arsenals. The first wave to be launched after the retreat was ordered consisted of 1,450 missiles, their first priority being the interception of incoming weapons, their second the destruction of enemy fighters. A further 200 missiles were dedicated to hitting the Praetonian, Cotish and Clandonian AWACS that had been documented, and 500 heavy anti-shipping missiles were launched, heading for those enemy vessels that had been stupid enough to come within 700 km of the airships.

Down on the water, the last of the Fascist fleet sank into the black waters of the Petronas sound. In orbit, communications were restored on Skian commercial satellites. It could bring about a cassus belli for Praetonia if they wanted to attack the Skians, but the contracts had been arranged and other plans were in place should that happen. GPS was restored with Novan satellites as well, however these signals were vastly harder to detect.

It was go time. At roughly 11pm on the night following the secret meeting between Freekish, Doomani, and Ardan officials, two large transport planes fired up their engines on the tarmac at Camp Gojira military base at Freeksbury. Almost immediately streams of men began to pour from the nearby barracks and with equipment at hand began to board the plane, while flight crews finished making final checks on the aircraft. Dressed in Doomani fatigues and armed with the AVIR, the new K1A1 rifle, and their own specialized gear, they strapped themselves in and prepared for the long flight across former CAD territory towards the Imperium. These were the Sentinel Stalkers of the 25th Special Operations Force, 3rd Battalion, 1st Elites, who's existence was known only to the highest of military officials. They would be the Empire's first deployment into what was expected to be a bloody and protracted war for both sides, but Dreadfire was determined to covertly deal his sworn enemies as harsh a blow as possible.

While the men numbered only around one hundred, their training and experience would allow them to effectively engage and defeat foes many times their size as had been seen in nearly every Freekish conflict since the birth of the Sentinels. As the last boots stepped into the planes and the doors closed, a mighty roar of the engines caused the first aircraft to lurch forward towards the runway, followed by the second. They were saluted by the ground crews as they took to the skies without an armed escort, knowing that they would not see their beloved Automagfreek for some time, if ever. With the lights of Camp Gojira fading behind them, they settled in and attempted to get whatever sleep they could before they entered former CAD territory, where they would rendezvous with Doomani forces and be sent to their appropriate front.

Freekish intelligence agencies had been monitoring the situation through joint NATO/Gothic observation posts throughout Haven, as well as their own orbital assets. Requests from senior Freekish officials had already been made for Doomani intelligence in regards to the location and movement of enemy forces, as well as specific information pertaining to their future theater of operations. As all of this was happening behind the scenes, the two planes prepared for the first of several mid-air refuelings as they neared the western outskirts of former CAD territory, courtesy of their Gothic brothers who without doubt were well aware of the situation. Through the black of night the pilots acquired the faint flashing lights from the wings of the giant refueling aircraft, and after carefully maneuvering into place each plane took turns taking on more fuel for the rest of the journey to the Doomani Imperium.

Elsewhere on Freeksbury, the massive Sentinel garrisons stationed there since the annexation of the island began rallying in preparation for deployment. Within the next day the first elements of the 17th Army would be on their way towards Kregaia and Generic Empire, since they served as one of the Empire's quickest full scale first response force. The remainder of the Sentinel force would be sent forth to the easternmost edge of Gholgoth, once CAD territory, in the coming days. This force consisted of the 4th, 6th, 7th, and 12th Armies under the command of both Warchief Vidimir Breathstealer, and Azrael's Deathklaat by the name of Alerick Fleshgrinder, the man responsible for sacking the formerly named Foxbury Island.

From mainland Automagfreek, Dreadfire had ordered massive mobilizations to replenish the forces at Freeksbury, as well as to deploy more specialized units to eastern Gholgoth. The famed 406th Legion of Fallen from the south, the 327th Mountain Division of Sentinels, the 182nd Division of Sentinel Marines, and the 4th Airborne (primarily made up of professional Freekish soldiers) would all be seeing action in the event that AMF combat elements required additional reinforcements. But that would not be all that Damien was willing to commit, for a large contingent of Freekish heavy bombers and advanced 'Sirin' joint NATO/Gholgoth fighter and 'Stratosfighter II' warplanes would be stationed in Generia within a few hours flight of Doomingsland in the event, however unlikely, that Maximus would require additional airpower.

The well rehearsed deployments had been done many dozens of times before by the Freekish military, which had seen more action than any other nation (or alliance for that matter) in the world. Though the organized chaos of moving massive numbers of men and material was conducted at its usual frantic pace, life elsewhere across Automagfreek went on as usual. Few could guess that Dreadfire was secretly throwing his might behind the Doomani, not so much out of friendship and allegiance at this point, but merely to take a shot at his most hated foes. He knew that his first response force would be able to slip into the Imperium undetected, but any sort of large scale deployment was unlikely to go unnoticed due to decades old paranoia any time Freekish ships began to set sail. Damien would be content to remain officially silent on the matter and offer no declaration of war or even intent, but instead let matters play out as he had foreseen them.

After countless hours and additional refuels, word came over the PA inside each plane that they would now be entering the outer reaches of western Doomani territory, and that they were to prepare for air drop as soon as they were over land. The moment soon came, and per AMF's agreement with the Doomani several armed fighter jets were scrambled to rally with the Freekish planes and hail them accordingly. Major Bradley Rolland, a seasoned Freekish special operative, would be leading the entire advance Sentinel Stalker team on the ground and conducting the intended campaign of unconventional warfare to the best of his ability. He was the first to rise from his seat and move towards the rear cargo door, which began to groan its disapproval as it began to open slowly in anticipation for the airdrop.

Twirling his right index finger ober his head, he signaled the Stalkers inside his aircraft to stand up and hook their rip cords into the track overhead as they lined up single file. He then patted his chest with both hands and ordered them to perform a final equipment check on the men in front of them to make sure their parachutes and gear were in proper order, and as he glanced out the door and at the ground rushing by below he drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He then stepped out from the plane and began the descent towards the ground, his chute being pulled open by the rip chord anchord to the interior of the aircraft and his body jerking as it began to unfold and fully deploy overhead. He was followed by what appeared to be an endless stream of parachutes belonging to the Stalkers who would be following him into combat, and the serenity of falling back to earth was interrupted only by the roar of Doomani jets as they continued to shadow the Freekish planes.

As the last of the men made their jump, the Freeks were hailed by the Doomani over the radio so as to help disguise the purpose of the airdrop for anyone monitoring the Imperium's airspace. Attention civilian aircraft, air traffic in this sector is prohibited. You are ordered to change course immediately or be fired upon. The Freeks played along, and issued a simple "Roger that, adjusting course." before turning their planes back towards the western horizon, where they would fly to Generia instead of Automagfreek or its associated territories. With the two planes beginning to diminish in the distance, the Major braced himself for impact as he touched down on Doomani soil, the first Freek to do so since the Automagfreek/Doomingsland war. As he removed his chute and removed the rifle from his pack, he looked on as the rest of his men took to the ground and rallied on his position. The Stalkers from the second plane would split and be sent on their own missions under the command of Captain Franklin Vincennes, who could be barely seen in the distance as he too began grouping his men in preparation for deployment.

Mere minutes passed before several convoys of Doomani vehicles arrived to pick up both Sentinel units quickly and discreetly, but an uncomfortable silence lingered between the fighting men of both nations. However it would be their sense of loyalty and duty that would see them function as equals, for they represented two of the most powerful armies the world had ever seen, and combined their might would be the stuff of legend. Their movements and progress would be meticulously tracked over the coming months by Freekish High Command, but for the meantime Lord Dreadfire would be content to mass his forces in preparation for the invasion of Haven and let the black ops take care of their own business. It was via a press release that he would make his intentions clear, for instead of outright declaring war he would mask his movements as mere defense of his region, thought it would take some time for his forces to arrive at their destinations. For all the rest of the world knew, Freekish-Doomani relations were still cold at best since no public mending of past wounds had taken place, though he did not doubt that some would be suspicious regardless.

~From the desk of Lord Damien the Destroyer, Supreme Warlord of the New Gothic Empire of Automagfreek~

To: The governments of the Havenic region

The New Gothic Empire of Automagfreek as well as the Gholgoth Regional Alliance have not been blind to the events taking place throughout Haven. It is the official policy of this nation as well as this region that at this time Gothic support shall go to no one side, and our neutrality will be acknowledged and respected. Should forces of any Havenic nation, save for our NATO allies, intrude so much as a single inch into Gothic territory, we will retaliate swiftly with our full might.

The easternmost border of Gholgoth sits dangerously near the Doomani Imperium, an in order maintain our regional security as well as protect our allies in Generia and Kregaia, I have ordered Freekish forces to be deployed accordingly. Additional Gothic reinforcements will be sent eastward should violence threaten to spill into our territory, and I stress again that any intrusion will result in merciless retribution.

You have all been warned.


http://img352.imageshack.us/img352/1818/signson6.png

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

OOC: Not too happy with this, since I dislike deployment posts. Some edits may follow.

OOC: This is staying until such time as AMF et. al. actually care to define what nations they are referring to and how far away they are from Doom and it is done in a manner according to the traditional distance definitions between Gholgoth and Haven

http://i101.photobucket.com/albums/m44/rosdivan/Rosdivaniflag.png
From the Foreign Ministry of the Commonwealth of Rosdivan

To The Supreme Warlord of the New Gothic Empire of Automagfreek:

You may rest assured that no Rosdivani vessel nor, presumably, any vessel belonging to a nation currently engaged in hostilities with the Doomani Imperium, will intrude into Gothic territory. As your cartographers will readily point out to you, there is more than thirty thousand kilometers distance between the western limits of the Havenic continental cluster, including the western portion of the Doomani Imperium, and the eastern edges of Gothic claimed territory. The Commonwealth of Rosdivan openly declares that it sees no military benefit to sailing tens of thousands of kilometers beyond its opponents.

At the same time, we would like to remind you that the western edges of Haven as well as those waters surrounding the Doomani Imperium have been declared to be a war zone and as a result we cannot make any guarantees of safety to Gothic vessels sailing through these areas. Similarly, we cannot guarantee any ability to discriminate between Gothic vessels and other vessels moored in Doomani ports. We apologize ahead of time for any destruction wreaked upon your merchants as a result of our war efforts.

We sincerely hope that your ultimatum is merely what it appears, an earnest desire to limit the spread of violence that this most regrettable conflict has engendered. We would find it most unfortunate were the New Gothic Empire to attempt to engineer an incident, obviously most improbable due to the great distance between the lands, in order to use this as casus belli to enter the war.

Most sincerely,
Lord Protector Edward Hutton

You are watching Veritas: Fair and unbiased State and Church-approved news!

The Veritas logo flew across the screen, while a three dimensional graphic flashed words 'BREAKING NEWS' at the top of the screen. Marius Carbo and Livia Alba, Veritas' two main anchors, appeared on screen, both smiling disarmingly. The camera focused on Alba, a pretty brunette in her mid twenties,

"Earlier today, VPFD officials confirmed that they had arrested two-hundred and seven Hamptonian nationals in connection with an espianage flight that attempted to infiltrate sacred Imperial air space, in addition to a Cravanian government official. We go now to Castus Silvana in Nuclearum, where joining us is Tribune Cassius of the VPFD," the screen split suddenly, a shot of the studio cramming into the right half while an image of a man in the green militia cap and dark blue camoflage BDUs of the VPFD appeared, stone-faced before the camera.

"Welcome, Tribune. Please, tell your fellow citizens of the offense commited by the foreigners in question,"

"It would be my pleasure,soror," he replied, staring intently into the camera, "Earlier today a Hamptonian aircraft carrying two-hundred five crew and passengers as well as three government officials illegally entered Imperial air space. Under Senatorial Decree MMCCVIII, citizens of a nation considered to be hostile to the Imperium that trespass upon Imperial territory are to be arrested and held until which time that nation is no longer considered hostile, and the individuals in question are being charged under that act. Interestingly, three individuals aboard the aircraft were, in fact, government officials of Hamptonshire and Cravan, and as such are being charged with conspiracy to make war on the Imperium."

The camera cycled through images of the aircraft, taxied on a military runway beside a pair of armored personnel carriers with ACID Excubitores forming a perimeter around the sight. The passengers were shown being marched across the tarmac to waiting busses, their hands secured behind their backs with zipties.

"The three government officials, Senator Stephen Larsen, Minister of State for Allied Affairs Oskar Solberg, and Cravanian MP Eric Jones are to stand trial for their crimes. The others were themselves caught in the act of violating sovereign Imperial territory and thus under Imperial law a trial is not needed, and as such they are to be sent to Castus Algidum in punishment for their crimes."

Straightening in his seat, Cassius appeared finished.

"Thank you, Tribune. As you can see, fellow citizens, justice will be dealt to those who would consider themselves enemies of the Imperium."

The camera pans to Marius Carbo, who up until this point has remained silent,

"In a related story, the Emperor has offered to have the foreign invaders in questioned extradited to their countries in exchange for the release of Imperial citizens who were kidnapped by foreign powers in their illegal war against the Doomani way of life..."

“Thou shalt remember always: the strong do not cling to their enemies nor to their friends, but change their alliances as the lives of men go on. The enemy of yesterday is the ally of tomorrow. And it is no sin to make peace with the raven to destroy the serpent.”
-Excerpt from Twilight of the Gods, the Book of the Deceiver

* * *

Korronis
The day after the Maria Incident

Ishamael growled with frustration as his cell phone rang for the third time that evening. He had a supermodel on each arm, a premiere of the most anticipated movie of the year to attend, and Lord Volscian’s wedding reception after that, and he had been rather looking forward to an evening of polite conversation, intelligent debate, and prohibitively expensive liquors. His female companions pouted as he withdrew the phone; shrugging them off, he walked towards the corner of the theater’s atrium and growled impatiently “This had better be good.”

“My Lord, it’s Abram. And it’s good. Plan Cerberus is finally beginning.”

“Plan Cerberus?” Ishamael frowned, trying to remember all the strategic plans he’d read during his years as Emperor. “I don’t remember that one.”

“It’s little-known, Divine One, but I’m surprised you don’t remember it; you ordered it updated when you took the throne. It details the Imperial response to a war between the merchant powers and Doomingsland.”

The Emperor nodded in comprehension. “Yeah. I remember now.” And then it hit him. “Wait. There’s a war in Haven?”

“There will be.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He hung up, feeling happier than he had in weeks. Things were finally happening.

* * *

“Gentlemen, I’m sure you’ve been following the news. Three days ago the Questarian Prime Minister issued an ultimatum, demanding that all slavery in Haven end within 24 hours. Obviously, this was mainly directed at Doomanum, the most powerful slave-trading nation in the region.” Abram Vidann, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, pressed a button on his remote, moving to the next slide, a map of western Haven. “I imagine the Doomani didn’t take kindly to that, and although intelligence is sketchy so far,” he said, throwing a glance at the Head of the Intelligence Division, Lucius Kressh, “satellite images suggest that Doomani forces in Nuclearum, Paralentum, and other such strongholds are preparing themselves.” He changed to the next slide, an image of slaves from the Maria being liberated by Questarian marines. “The Questarians took things into their own hands yesterday. They sent a squadron to liberate slaves from a merchant ship, the Maria, and in doing so triggered a media sensation. They also ignited the war. Emperor Maximus decreed earlier today that all Questarian ships were to be regarded as pirate vessels, which means their crews are subject to arrest and execution.” The Minister smiled. “It should be obvious that this is an incredible opportunity for us, gentlemen. Questaria and Doomanum, at each other’s throats? Perfect. Our Emperor foresaw this, I might add,” he continued, bowing to his master, “ordering us to update the strategic plan for just this eventuality when he firs took the Iron Throne.”

“What do you want us to do about it?” High Admiral Anor interrupted. “They’ll skirmish over Paralentum and capture a few merchant vessels in the meantime. This doesn’t involve us.”

Minister Vidann frowned. “This is going to spark a region-wide war, High Admiral. I wouldn’t be surprised if governments across Haven are already drafting proclamations and readying troops.”

“Then this is a glorified news bulletin,” the Admiral retorted. “You said it yourself: this is going to spread across Haven. We’re not in Haven. And while I’d love nothing better than to watch Questaria and Doomanum destroy each other, there’s nothing active we can do.”

Ishamael interrupted the two with a wave of his hand, proclaiming, “Until now, it hasn’t been a priority to normalize relations with the Doomani. But it is now. Questaria is going to be supported by the Praetonians, the Clandonians, and all our other traditional enemies. The Doomani, by contrast, as you all know, have only a single difference from us, and that is their regrettable worship of a single God.” Murmurs of disgust rippled through the room. “My point is, the Doomani are in the long term infinitely preferable. And although we betrayed them without warning, no real harm came to either of us, and I suspect they will be less averse to making peace with us with half of Haven calling for Maximus’s head.”

“So we’re to intervene against the Questarians?” High General Yataghan inquired.

“No. The Doomani can handle themselves. This war is an opportunity for us not only to re-acquire a powerful and trustworthy ally, but also for us to crush enemies in Haven, taking their land and strengthening ourselves at their expense.” The Emperor gestured to Imperator Malustar, who switched the slide to a full map of Haven, with one nation highlighted in red. Predatory smiles appeared on the faces of the Inner Court as they realized what their target was to be.

* * *

Mobilizations were a tried-and-true practice in the Empire. Ever since the days of Emperor Lucifer, barely a year went by when the Imperium didn’t spend billions of dollars sending some task force or another somewhere several thousand kilometers from home, and every time, they left from the military ports of Korronis. The dockworkers had grown accustomed long ago to the particular requirements of the fleet, and also to the strain that the transfer of soldiers put on the docks’ infrastructure: since the Korronis Defense Force consisted of several million infantrymen and their support units, it was traditional (and easiest) simply to reassign large sections of the KDF to whatever task force was being assembled, quarter them in the docks while the fleet was assembled, send them off with the fleet, and then transfer in soldiers from other garrisons to make up the difference.

However, the task force being assembled was far larger than usual; while smaller than some others, such as the massive armada that had been sent to Doomingsland a year previously, it represented considerable expense and manpower. The problem was speed. How do you mobilize several million men in a matter of days? The answer, of course, was to withdraw them from units that were already ready, in two places simultaneously.

The mobilization order went out the day after the Maria incident, three days after the original ultimatum. It called for several divisions from the Cadian Gate installation, most of the garrison of the naval city of Slivan, and a sizable part of the Korronis Defense Force to board two separate fleets, which would both then head at best speed to western Haven, rendezvousing well in advance of actually reaching their target. Within the next two days, elements from the Cadian Gate were transferred by air and rail to Slivan, where they were sent into the waiting bellies of the troop carriers there, joining the forces withdrawn from the Slivan garrison. By contrast, since the forces being loaded onto the fleet in Korronis were already in the city, they were able to set out twenty hours before the fleet from Slivan. Over three thousand ships were in each half of the armada, carrying with them no fewer than seven armies, a force of over four million Legionaries. There was no need for some kind of diplomatic statement; the Freekish statement said it all. And by the time that statement had been made, five days after the Maria raid, the fleet was already rendezvousing a few hundred kilometers off the coast of Kregaia, and changing course to head for western Haven.

* * *

“Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation; and every city or house divided against itself shall not stand.”
-Matthew 12:25

TOP SECRET/NOFORN
TO: COMNAVHAV
FROM: DOOMANI WAR OPERATIONS COMMISSION

RE: NUCLEARUM LOGISTICS

(TS) 1. In accordance with War Order #5341, issued during the period of rising tensions due to the interception and seizure of Doomani slave ships in Havenic waters, two squadrons of guided missile submarines positioned themselves off of the west coast of the Doomani territory identified as Nuclearum, formerly belonging to the nation of Kahanistan.

(TS) 2. Concurrently with the declaration of war by Lord Protector Hutton upon the Doomani Imperium, these SSGNs launched a major strike upon the western ports of Nuclearum as the opening phase of Operation Strangle. The objective of this operation is the isolation of Doomani forces in Nuclearum prior to their reduction by Rosdivani and Allied forces.

(TS) 3. Over the past twenty four hours, orbiting satellites have permitted a Bomb Damage Assessment of the strike to be made.

(TS) 4. Damage, while less than was predicted, was still quite extensive. Ports SLANEESH and NURGLE have both suffered major damage. Specialists estimate that the necessary repairs to restore functionality will take 4-6 weeks, during which time they will be unable to receive shipping, and that shipping will be at a lower level than they would otherwise be capable of for quite some time. The remainder of the ports have suffered only moderate damage and continue to receive shipping, though at a lower rate due to the damage.

(TS) 5. Because of the loss of two ports and the lowered capability of the remainder, a large backlog of shipping traffic has formed off the coast of Nuclearum. This backlog is expected to grow until such time as all the ports have returned to full function, at which time it will slow down.

(TS) 6. Recommendation: This backlog of shipping represents a tremendous opportunity to cause severe damage to the Doomani war effort at minimal cost. All heavy attack squadrons within the Havenic Theater of Operations have converted over to the new Zivka Zapoteca. A long range anti-shipping strike by these, utilizing their stealthy features to avoid air defense over the Doomani Strait, would be a perfect trial by fire. Additionally, the Prestonian naval liaison has expressed interest in coordinating a submarine offensive against Doomani shipping in the Strait; it is the recommendation of this commission that we should share what intelligence information we have as well as make our submarine tenders and ports available to them.

OFFICIAL DIPLOMATIC COMMUNIQUE

To: Imperator Maximus III of Doomanum

Imperator, it has been some time since our last correspondence. Understandably. Last year, forces under our command attacked Iurarium without warning, in violation of a longstanding alliance between our peoples that stretched back to the days when the Imperium, under the late Emperor Lucifer, entered the CAD. Our action that day was a betrayal of trust, and it remains a stain on the history of Kregaia.

However, although we know this is much to ask, we think that it is time steps were taken to normalize relations between our great nations. This war has given us insight: it shows us who our true enemies are, and who we must work with against them. Both of us, Imperator, are incompatible with the merchant nations that are fighting against you, but the only significant difference between the two of us is one of religion. Culturally, in the long term, Kregaia is far more compatible with you than any of the merchant nations that even now are attacking your way of life.

Besides, skirmishes between our nations are hardly without precedent; through the centuries, raids and attacks and ambushes and betrayals have occurred many times. Why should this one put any great gap between us? Loss of life and materiel was negligible on both sides. It would be unwise to sacrifice long-term compatibility of interests in the name of moral outrage over an attack that cost Doomanum practically nothing.

Your people have the luxury of acting irrationally; however, Imperator, we strongly believe it is in Kregaia's best interests to normalize relations with Doomanum and to work with you in the emergent war in Haven, which would yield concrete gains for both of us, and logic supports our opinion. We recognize, of course, that the commoners may resent any public improvement in relations with the Kregaian Imperium; to that end, we may conceal any agreements, or rather, you may tell your people that such an alliance profits Doomanum at our expense. We certainly do not mind being demonized in the eyes of the Doomani people, provided that in reality we work towards a common goal.

Signed,
His Divine Majesty the Emperor of Kregaia, Ishamael II

OOC: Someone please help clue me in on where we are on this one? I've been so out of the loop lately I've had trouble finding our place here. Doom, Cot maybe you could give me some sort of head's up? Thanks. EDIT - sorry forgot to log in on Tnemrot.

It had only been hours ago that High Command had received the official notification from High Admiral Anor that the two fleets had reached the rendezvous point. That meant everything was ready: the now-combined armada was heading northeast at a steady pace, satellites were sweeping the Axackal Sea and Strobovian Strait to try and mark the location of Questarian and other enemy ships, and indeed, several flights of strategic bombers were being prepared; they would unleash havoc on the target once it became clear to the enemy they were in the line of fire. No point alerting the infidels before time. Imperator Malustar had just begun another shift in the War Room, standing on a balcony overlooking the sector dedicated to the Haven war, while the Emperor stood in the shadows, talking hurriedly and quietly into his cellphone.

He was about to turn and order a servant to bring him some coffee when Ishamael abruptly hung up his cell phone and stormed over to him.

"Imperator. Turn the fleet around."

Anton simply stared for two full seconds before replying hesitantly, "Ah...Divine One? I don't understand."

"I don't care if you understand or not right now, Imperator. You will soon enough. But that armada is not to enter Haven yet. I'm scrubbing the mission. Turn it around and send it to Recedentia at best speed. And I mean best, Imperator. As fast as possible." That acid tone was unmistakable: you didn't argue with the Emperor when he was in this mood. Before he could ask another question or even acknowledge the order, Ishamael had turned away and stormed off.

What the fuck just happened? And who the hell was he talking to?

"Get me High Admiral Anor," he called, knowing one of the techs would route the call to one of the communications booths at the end of the walkway. Turning and walking towards them, he shook his head in confusion. You didn't just turn a fleet 180 degrees for no good reason. Something was going on, and the Emperor was playing it abnormally close to the chest.

Meanwhile, at the Gebua Marine Garrison
“Lookit Abdul, summore Arty! What is that now? Five or Six Arty groups since the last group that were'nt arty, What do they think they're gonna do with all those big guns? Not much to shoot at out here.”

“It's for the war of course, I'm sure there'll be plenty of targets wherever we get shipped off to.”

“You still on about that war? Look, it ain't gonna happen, 'sides, how you propose to fight a war with nothin' but artillery units? It just won't work.”

“Don't be silly Ahmed, most of the active units are mobilizing, before long, there'll be plenty of ground pounders ready to ship.”

“Ship to where? We ain't at war with anybody.”

“Not yet, but like I keep sayin', Haven the way it is, its only a matter of time before we get involved in some shootin.”

“We're neutral in this turkey shoot ya lout, and big enough to make it stick, nobody'll mess with that.”
“yea, sure, what planet are you on?”

After twenty four hours, the Mondothian Military was still on the move, it would take weeks for the full number of units on the move to reach positions from which they could attack the Cohenian presence on Estonsko, time that could ill be wasted. While troops and ships moved into position. Hopefully, the Cohenians would see the rate of preparation and believe themselves safe until their completion while the true plan remained hidden, even from the soldiers who would soon be carrying it out.

Midnight, Gebua Marine garrison, several days after the Message to Estonsko and the Kingston Pact
BOOM!

Ahmed was awakened suddenly by the sound of thunder deafeningly close.
WOOSH!
The unmistakable sound of several MLRS batteries firing simultaneously. Now the whole barracks was awake and soldiers were milling about trying to figure out what was going on, they'd slept though arty drills before, but nothing like this, every rocket battery on the island must be firing at once.
Ahmed stumbled about the barracks, shoving confused soldiers out of the way, reaching the door just ahead of a lieutenant he pushed outside and looked around, the rumblings from the last salvo were just fading when another started, orange flashes and trails of brilliant smoke lit the sky and Ahmed stumbled towards the source, A humongous amalgamation of rocket artillery units stretching as far as he could see down the coast in both directions, all pointed out to sea.

As another salvo started, a sergeant came up from behind and grabbed cpl. Ahmed who started yelling confusedly
“What are they doin'!? There's notin' out there but water! Nothin to shoot at! It don't make any sense to shoot at the sea, it won't get ya nowhere! Just Water!” After a few repetitions, the sergeant gave up trying to calm him and just slugged him unconscious and drug him back to the barracks.
Three minutes later, the beach was rapidly deserting as mobile artillery units finished their final salvo and quickly abandoned the beach before any potential counter-barrage could reach them.

[b]A few hours Earlier[b]
XXXXmessage to all coastal artillery unitsXXXX
Encrypt: Shade III
Decrypt: XXXXXXXX
As part of new operation codenamed: Butte Penetrator, all long range rocket artillery units currently assigned to coastal stations are to undertake fire mission
Payload: LRLAM, etc
Target: provided by aerial units, specific details appended per unit
Time critical: Zero Hours MMT


Operation Butte Penetrator was rapid Dominance writ large, while troops continued to mobilize, hopefully leading to the Estonskans believing that an attack was still weeks away, rocket artillery units that had been mobilized first, would begin bombardment of Cohenian military and naval units with long-range land-attack missiles, complemented by long range land attack and anti-shipping missiles from Mondothian naval units in the area. All targeted by airborne Reconnaissance and Targeting platforms able to spot and designate via GPS, targets on the islands from inside Mondothian airspace. In addition to the land and sea launched strikes, B-7 Banshee heavy bombers, escorted by F/A-24s and supplemented by FS-47 low level attack aircraft carrying out SEAD attacks in advance of the bombers were also on the menu.
Meanwhile, in preparation for the massive attack, aerial, naval and land based EW platforms began a concerted Jamming campaign against Estonskan radar and radio as well as overhead Cohenian satellites. Designed not only to mask the oncoming attack, but to disrupt Cohenian communications and maximize the confusion.


The Cohenians had been correct that the Mondothian owned islands would provide the major staging point for the operation, they were simply too close to the Estonskan islands not to use, but thankfully they had misjudged the artillery massing as defensive rather than the first strike of a major offensive operation.

OOC: Just want to clear up one thing. I RP this war as having been going on in real time. That would mean that, since the declaration by Matt, the war has lasted 50 days. Of course, I only apply this time frame to certain events, namely the land war in Krendakov and the majority of the rest of the war. I have the naval battle in CKG in frozen time, just for the sake of RPing. I’d like to standardize our time scales, so please talk to me on IRC.

IC:

The fleet was moving in complete darkness. No lights were permitted that were not absolutely necessary and nearly every system was running in passive mode. The dim shapes of a hundred or so airships floated lazily through the night air in the center of the fleet, the AWACS roughly 1,600 meters above the sea and the missiles buses below. News of the defeat at the mouth of the Petronas Sound had rapidly reached the men of the Second Fleet via the rapid reestablishment of communications. Reports were currently unclear, but what was known was that the airship corps that was supposed to have protected the First Fleet was falling back, shedding so many missiles that the ambient air temperate of the area had increased by a full three degrees.

Admiral Platon paced about the command room of his flagship, the Garner class battleship Triumphant, quite possibly the last such ship to bear the fascist colors. A man of 65 who felt every bit of it at this moment, Platon had been raised on a steady diet of textbooks and dogma, and this situation was in neither. Lessons had to be learned from the all-too-recent defeat, and they had to be learned fast. He had ordered his fleet to go dark rapidly, shutting down non-essential systems and limiting noise as much as possible. When ships had to communicate with each other, it was via narrow-band infrared laser instead of radio. The fleet could receive signals, it could listen, but it could not speak. And now the critical decision came.

Do we follow the original plans that I got from the Kyrios? he thought, or do I follow my own intuition? It was stupid to assume that just by speaking a person could give away a ship’s location, but keeping silent somehow made Platon more comfortable. Going with his original instructions would mean heading into the jaws of destruction. The remnants of the Praetonian fleet he could probably handle, but with the Cottish and Clandonian forces in the area destruction was almost guaranteed. If, however, he turned tail and ran, he might be able to save his fleet, if for only a little while, but what would the other ramifications be? The orthodox in him urged the first course of action, while the survivalist championed the second.

The fleet was roughly a thousand kilometers south of Cape King George, west of Candiro, and it would soon be too late to turn back. A decision had to be come to. It was agonizing. Platon paced some more, a knuckle planted firmly in his teeth. He nearly drew blood. Heaving with frustration and helplessness, he finally gave in. Reaching for the intercom, he connected to the Triumphant’s bridge.

“Turn us around, helm. Make for our berths. We will take a stand there.” He clicked off the intercom before a reply could come through and retired to the overstuffed chair placed in the far corner of the otherwise spartan room. The fleet would head back to its home, the fascist naval bases in the Skaugran island chain far to the south. At least there they were guaranteed sufficient air cover. It was the best he could do.

OOC2: Will edit in a bit about the ground war in Krend tomorrow. It's too late right now. I'm very busy tomorrow (Saturday) though, so I don't know when I'll get it up. Hopefully soon.

“People of Haven,” grinned the face of Michael Allen Delphi. His message was being transmitted across the region, with convienient black spots over Kargucagstan and its nearby area. “We live in a time of conflicts. Recently one has broken out between the Kingston Pact and the forces of Doomingsland and its allies. Until recently Kargucagstan was proud to count itself amongst those that oppose the tyrannical protestations of the Praetonian oppressor, but as time wears on and action ceases to take part on the borders, it is becoming increasingly clear that this war is for naught. In accordance with this decision, I have contacted several nations that have expressed willingness to negotiate a cease fire on behalf of our nation.”

Official Message from the United States Government to Praetonia and Karcugastan


Dear Havenic friends!


For centuries, the Haven region has been a place of near-constant warfare. Millions of people have died in wars on every one of the region's continents for causes great and small. Thousands of warships line the bottom of the Havenic seas. It would be folly for me to offer some grand plan to now turn the region into a place of peace, bunnies, and unicorns.


Regardless, it is best to remember that we all, despite our differences, are Havenites – and at least sometimes to make an effort to avoid slaughter where it can and should be avoided. Though I do not attempt to fix the world in one peace treaty, it seems to be that the Allaneans may offer a hand in resolving the crisis between the Kargucagstanis and the Praetonians.


It is not disputable that the Kargucagstanis stand little to gain from continuing the fighting. Already their navy has been routed, and they are not likely to successfully complete their operation in Krendakov while the Praetonians and their allies continue pounding them.


Conversely, neither can the Praetonians gain much for continuing this violence. Not only will any offensive into Kargucagstani territory be costly both in lives and materiel, but it would also detract from the main goal of the current Trans-Havenic conflict – the war on Doomingsland.


Such a war in Kargucagstan would cost the lives of millions if not more of Praetonian and allied military personnel, as well as Kargucagstani troops – and is quite likely to turn nuclear. We in the United States are extremely concerned about this latter, as any thermonuclear exchange in Haven will undoubtedly claim civilian lives and affect the United States of Allanea. We are not willing to risk the very lives of our citizens over this.


Now we hear that the Kargucagstani have called for a return to status quo ante. We understand this. They do not wish their nation to be humiliated, disarmed, and economically castrated – as would surely be the result of even a partly successful Praetonian invasion into their country. Even if Praetonia invades Kargucagstan and is later forced to leave, the economic damage to the Kargucanistani would be nigh irreparable. We shudder to even think about the implications of thermonuclear war in this context.


Yet the Praetonians would not be willing to agree to such a deal. Their opponents have, after all, fired the first shot, and the Praetonians require assurances that they will not be attacked again.


In the euphoria of their first successes, it might seem to the Praetonians that they are negotiating from a position of strength. But they must remember that their opponents feel that their back is against the wall. If they will feel that Praetonia is trying to strip them of their national dignity and rub their noses in it, then they will refuse the peace deal, and bombs will fly.


It is not necessary in any way to end this in a war. Rationally speaking, it is possible for the Kargucagstani to work with the Havenic community to provide the Praetonians with guarantees of peace and security without being humiliated or destroyed militarily, and while conserving their national sovereignty.


As the plenipotentiary representative of the United States, I am empowered by the President and the People to suggest the following bilateral deal:


1.

First of all, the Kargucagstani forces will return to their pre-war bases.
2.

The Kargucagstani will repay any damage caused to the Praetonian and allied military and civilians assets. Furthermore, they will transfer monetary aid to the families of any Praetonian and Allied personnel killed in the fighting up to the sum of $100,000 per every sailor or soldier killed and $50,000 per each man injured.
3.

Both sides will agree to abstain from aggression against each other.
4.

The Kargucagstani will remove any tariffs or other discriminatory importation restraints on Praetonian, Clandonian, and Allanean goods. Allanea will remove any tariffs or importation restraints on Kargucagstani imports.
5.

A demilitarized zone will be created along the Krendian-Kargucagstani border, extending 15 km into Krendakov and 15 km into Kagucagstan. A force of 10,000 observers will be placed there by the United States of Allanea, but the observers will not be armed with any heavy weapons, artillery, or AA equipment.
6.

Praetonia will agree to abstain from putting up any military bases in Krendakov as long as the DMZ is maintained.


Thank you for reading this.


We hope you will contemplate it and agree to those terms. Failing that, we have an alternative proposition. Should the two sides not agree to this treaty, they should agree on a ceasefire, withdraw their troops to pre-war positions, and send their plenipotentiary representatives to meet in neutral territory to discuss further agreements.


Sincerely yours,


Maverick Monningham,

United States Secretary Of State

The Allanean terms were acceptable to Kargucagstan, but numerous attempts at diplomacy with Praetonia proved fruitless. Various options were considered, but as the senior generals of the kyrios discussed their options, very few were open. General Chrysander Alexis ground his teeth and paced about the room.

“We have to do it. It is our only recourse.”

“I disagree,” waved Lieutenant General Lykurgaus dismissively, “I think there is always an alternative to nuclear war.” Alexis sighed and turned on the other man.

“Such as what? The Petronas Sound is lost to us. Our fleets are routed, and despite a healthy air parity there isn’t anything they can do on their own. That is our only sea route, and having it blocked is not an option.” Lykurgaus scratched his chin.

“This would mean the deaths of countless innocents,” he mentioned.

“Again, it cannot be helped. Return fire from Praetonia is inevitable, although it is the Kyrios’ hope that the other powers involved will have slightly more sense. Regardless, if the situation does escalate, we will be prepared.” Murmured voices consented, sad nods betraying the true feelings of the room. Alexis was right, but Lykurgaus had valid points as well.

“Regardless, we must act immediately if we are to salvage this day. Balthasar,” Alexis snapped at a wall screen.

“Yes, General?” Field Marshal Bacchus Balthasar was transmitting from the frontlines in Krendakov, a column of smoke quite visible over his left shoulder.

“We have attained victory in Krendakov. Pull your forces back to the border and make preparations to ship them to the interior as soon as possible.”

“Understood, General.” Alexis resumed his pacing, brushing past the other men in the room. He had always been arrogant, but his competency managed to guarantee his continued employment. Even given that, though, the government’s patience with him was wearing thin.

“Good. Now, Lykurgaus, I expect you to take care of this situation. I expect immediate results. Dismissed.”

Northwestern Krendakov

Balthasar deactivated the camera system and allowed himself the luxury of a frown. To have come so far, only to turn and flee! The thought was galling. Doubtless his comrades would insist that it was not a retreat, simply a shifting of forces. Such was typical in a modern war. Balthasar wouldn’t be fooled. He contemplated his situation for a moment longer before striding off towards a nearby hillock. Nodding at the camera crew as he passed, the field marshal made his way up behind some of his fellow officers, who were observing the burnt hulk of some insignificant communist hellhole. When the men noticed Balthasar they snapped around and crooked their elbows.

“Sir!”

“At ease. I have just spoken with General Alexis. We have completed our objectives in Krendakov. The communists have seen our strength, we have routed their militaries and shredded their economy.” He talked in grandiose terms, exaggerating their actual feats to a more PR-acceptable level. “Further, our men have received excellent training and our materials are now combat tested. We have nothing further to do here, men. Begin moving soldiers back to the border.” For a moment, nobody spoke, the officers too wise to voice their consternation. “Am I clear?” Balthasar prompted.

“Yes… yes, sir. We will begin an organized withdrawal immediately.”

“Good, the Kyrios would expect no less.”

AWACS Airship Philo
Petronas Sound

“Turn the ship around,” the captain ordered.

“Sir?” The flotilla had been beating a steady retreat towards the mainland for only a quarter of an hour, and now they were being ordered to turn around and head back into battle?

“Just do it. Orders directly from the Kyrios.”

“I don’t understand. We don’t have any means of taking Cape King George…”

“That is apparently no longer our goal. It would appear that we are to escort… something.”

“Sir, what could possibly warrant a guard of this size?” The captain said nothing, watching the clouds ahead of them.

Airbase 214439-A
South-western Kargucagstan

Pale sunlight illuminated the cavernous mouth of the bunker as the heavy steel blast doors slid open. A trio of armed guards strode along beside a shrouded trolley, the watchful eyes of a dozen security cameras tracking their every move. The group moved speedily onto the concrete base, rushing towards the looming forms of the strategic bombers ahead. The cart’s electric motors let out a low hum, just enough to contrast with the squeaking of its guard’s rubber shoes as they transitioned to the asphalt of the tarmac. A wing-shaped shadow fell across the men, signaling them to turn over their cargo to the nervous fitters of the Iduma Jonas, known simply as “Idi” by its crew. They quickly pulled the tarp off of the dolly, revealing the navy-blue shapes of a half dozen supersonic cruise missiles. Brilliant yellow warnings were scrawled all across their warheads, prompting all nearby to take a step back.

One by one the missiles were lifted into position on hydraulic jacks. Each B-22 could theoretically be fitted with 66 cruise missiles, but in practice, given that some bombers might be shot down or have to turn back, the nuclear weapons were rather more spread out, with roughly 20 in each of the 70 B-22s that would make up the main strike force. A further 100 strategic bombers were also being prepared across the western coast, armed not with nukes, but with conventional missiles and decoys. As the last of the weapons were locked in place, the hulking shape of a B-22 lifted off the end of the first runway. The four GEM BQ6-3 turbofans that hung from Idi’s wings spun into life, a deep, even throb that reverberated around the area. Captain Damianos Euclid waved to his ground crew as his plane was tugged along into position by a ground vehicle. They waved back before turning and jogging into the cover of a nearby bunker entrance. Euclid smiled wanly and sat back in his seat.

Petronas Sound

“Ah, roger that, AWACS Zeta-Zeta-Gemini-Four, altering course according to your direction, over.” Euclid maneuvered the wheel slightly to the left, watching a flurry of numbers go by on a digital readout. When he was satisfied with his position he re-engaged the autopilot and adjusted his legs for better circulation. It was about a nine-hour flight from base to Cape King George, and there were no breaks.

“How are you holding up, Es?” Euclid stretched and looked over at his co-pilot, a man named Esdras.

“Doing good, man. Doing good.” He blinked a few times and lifted his helmet’s visor. The displays projected on it flashed in anger before disappearing, but he was confident they’d be back. The blasted thing was so full of sweat and dandruff that he didn’t know how it still functioned, but it always did. “You look rather busy.” The other man laughed and stretched. They were both on edge and were trying to relieve some tension any way they could. The clouds began to drift apart as Idi carried on, allowing it to gradually form up with the rest of its squadron and their Havenfighter escorts. The formations altered course once again and fanned out, adopting a standard defensive stance as they began to near the launch zone. Still under the cover of the airship’s BVRAAM bubble, the aircraft were relatively safe at the moment. Two more minutes and they would be in launch range. It was time for one last attempt at diplomacy.

OOC:

Sorry I disappeared, but things were a bit hot-headed betwixt Talost and I. I had to leave to cool down a bit, and forgot about the whole thing, being pre-occupied with the events unfolding with reference to RPing elsewhere. This evening, whilst on msn chatting to some of these other RPers, some old comrades from our days on NS were also invited, and the inevitable questions of who we all were (are) was brought up, and I was so reminded of this thread. So now I am here, and I can talk with a clear mind on the subject, and not make rash decisions purely brought on by anger.

The fact of the matter is, I am in no way inclined to continue this RP, or even acknowledge its existence. Whilst, perhaps, if I were able to give up much more of my time to this RP to write posts, things might have turned out better, this is not the case. If I am incapable of providing a post, the other RPer is compelled, by Role-Playing Etiquette, to await my return and post. Since Talost, in his rush to complete an RP and provide himself a corridor to Clan, broke this rule of etiquette, I was angred and frustrated. Furthermore, my casualties were RPed in order to permit him to advance across my nation at the greatest of speeds. This also broke standard Role-Playing Etiquette, and enraged me further. To show my displeasure, I posted what amounted to me mocking this breech of etiquette. This enraged Talost, who was already frustrated with my slowness to respond. At this point, Talost became the proverbial unstoppable force, whilst I became the proverbial unmoveable wall. One of us had to disappear to let this cool off, and it was me.

OOC:

Krend! Very glad to see you. The thread slowed down considerably about a week after you left, little more, and then gradually died. I don't want there to be OOC ill feelings between us and I'm also being pressed on other sides, so in one of the latest posts I've withdrawn my men from your nation. In about half an hour I'll be tactical nuking the ocean west of me, which will likely prompt strategic response from several nations, which will prompt more, etc. Basically, your country will be surrounded by nuclear Armageddon. None of them are aimed at you, though, as far as I can tell.

EDIT: Here it is.

IC:

The proverbial “call from the governor” never came. As the clock ticked down, Damianos clenched his fist around the powerful B-22’s throttle. Somehow, in an indescribable way, some of the strength of the machine seemed to flow into his hand, up his arm and into his heart, cooling the fires of anxiety that raged within. The sun was out in full force now, golden rays washing over the black airframe. His lap was pleasently warmed. It was beautiful. A nudge from Esdras pulled him out of his reverie. “It’s time.” Damianos nodded to his friend and turned back in his seat. The radar operator nodded as well, his mouth a grim slit set in a pale face. The pilot sat back and sighed. The orders they were expecting finally came, the voice over the radio subdued. A final glance around the cabin and the wings of the bomber gently turned into the wind.

As the formation approached the launch point the enemy missiles began to impact. Despite interception by friendly missiles, despite the fighter escorts, the missiles hit home. A fireball off the Idi’s left marked the passing of three loyal fascists and many millions of doms, but another bomber just moved forward to fill the gap. “Launch in t-minus fifteen.” Esdras’ eyes were fixed on his wristwatch, issued by the State just before the flight and synchronized to those of his fellow co-pilots. “Fourteen, thirteen, twelve.” The formation passed through a cloud, lit from inside by explosions and shrapnel. “Eleven, ten, nine, eight.” Damianos engaged the final system checks for the bomber, setting the course and altitude and double checking safeties. “Seven, six, five, four,” the bomb bay doors opened, “three, two, one, launch.”

The bomber shook as 22 heavy cruise missiles dropped from its innards and wings mounts, falling in a steady shower below the craft before igniting their engines to scream ahead. A portion of the bombers in the flight would release now, returning to base as soon as possible. The majority would continue on, flying forward into enemy fire to make certain that the nukes would reach every part of the combined fleet. Damianos pulled hard on the wheel, bringing the aircraft around. As the left wing lifted high in the air he reflected that it was almost a salute, a salute to the friends that would perish today, the enemies that would burn and the civilians who would suffer. It would be a different world tomorrow morning, but for now their job was done.

OOC:

I think in my desire to keep clear of the inflammatory language that tends to be thrown around with these sentiments, I have failed to make it as clear as possible what I mean. I will quote here:

The fact of the matter is, I am in no way inclined to continue this RP, or even acknowledge its existence.

What this boils down to, is that the invasion of Krendakov is considered, by myself, to have never occured. There was no Kargucagstani invasion - Krendakov's borders have remained secure. What this also states, though I see from your own post that this should not be necessary, is that no attention would be paid to further posts involving any such invasion of Krendakov, id est they would not be considered, once again, by myself, to occur.

7th Strategic Bomber Wing – 400 km North West of Chevrokian mainland

Captain Ivan Berylov zipped up his flight suit and set the cover down on the toilet just before stepping aside to give enough room for the door to open to the flight deck. With a quick flick of his wrist, the door pulled inwards, flush against the toilet and he made his entry in the narrow corridor. Snaking between piping, wire conduits, and computer equipment, he finally slid into his seat at the helm of his SB-22 bomber. Strapping into the seat he made a quick glance at the autopilot and digital map before turning his attention to his copilot, “Anything new?”

His second in command shuffled his fingers over several controls before meeting Berylov’s gaze, “Yes sir. We just got word over the newswire from Strat-Com. We’ve got the abort signal.” To head off his commander’s training to immediately ask for it, he produced the paper copy of the order printed directly from the communications gear off to his side.

Berylov snatched the piece of paper and held it up to his face, touching on the map light on the console above him. He scanned the order, and fingered through a small laminated pamphlet attached to his thigh. Running his finger along the code on the page to keep track of where he was, he realized the numbers matched. He nodded to his copilot before keying his intra-aircraft communications system, “We have mission abort. I repeat, mission abort.” He handed the piece of paper back to his copilot, “Datalink everyone else in the flight, although I’m sure they got the orders. Let’s bug out.”

He wrestled control of the aircraft from the autopilot once he got confirmation that the remainder of the aircraft would follow his lead and gently banked out of formation. He set his heading for the airbase in which they originated. In a few hours, they’d be landing on their own soil.


Carrier Fighter Squadron Sixty-Seven – Somewhere West of Chevrokia

The same message was delivered to Carrier Fighter Squadron Sixty-Seven, however, due to the electronic warfare and jamming systems employed by both the Armed Republic aircraft and the Chevrokian’s, the message was garbled and incomprehensible. It was promptly discarded by the F/A-77N’s communications systems as either an anomalous creation of the dense electronic warfare screen around the two sets of aircraft or as an enemy attempt of electronic warfare. Lt. Cmdr. Kornukov wasn’t even alerted of the transmission, however Captain Bortzov received the signal on his electronic warfare screen. Bortzov disregarded it.

Kornukov glanced at the radar mission screen at the center of his console, “Oleg, you ready to go hot?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” He preemptively reconfigured the ALRQ/R75s settings to what he deemed was necessary for this engagement and brought up the electronic warfare prompt.

He keyed his intraflight communications system so the message was encrypted and delivered to the rest of the flight as a data packet, “Okay here’s the plan. I’m going in first; we’re going to draw their fire and attention first. The rest of you will use that chance to get into position, and then it’s all out. We’ll open up their flanks and asses to our guys cycling around. If there’s as few of them as our radar suggests, the engagement should be over on the negative side of ten minutes.” While he was speaking he was plotting the flight’s movements and attack vectors on the touch panel mission command screen, giving everyone in the flight a general idea of the intended tactics but giving each crew the ability to modify it as they saw fit. “Oh, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He grinned, just as he received a few mission plans back with slightly altered flight profiles, he pressed the accept key giving them the green light for their slight modifications to his general plan.

They had held their fire for a long time, and now they were in prime striking range. The Chevrokians thus far hadn’t fired or attempted to communicate, which was a good sign, they weren’t entirely aware of who they were facing or to what odds. Kornukov figured, then, he’d have the drop on them. Now, they were within range for the Kovas’s radar-guided medium range missiles. He watched the distance gap close, and with the intraflight comms still activated, he spoke, “One for the money…” He disengaged the safety features on his weapons, yet they remained without a lock. “Two for the show…” He nudged the throttle ahead and began a gentle climb. The rest of his flight followed his lead, but fell slightly back. “Three to get ready…” Bortzov knew this line, and his hands swept over the controls operating the ALRQ/R75. In an instant, the radar came to life at full power, its beam concentrated on the flight of Chevrokian fighters. The electronic warfare suite came active too and immediately began hampering anything in its way, creating false targets, gathering data on enemy radar and communications. Kornukov picked his target, the lead fighter of the opposition, and indicated his intent to fire two missiles. A steady tone indicated he had his lock. “And four to go…” He hit the fire control on that instant.

The internal armaments bay’s doors flung open for one short moment and two AMA-7R medium range missiles spiraled from within, their rockets ignited and they wavered for a moment before streaking off towards their adversaries dozens of miles away…

The rest of the flight went active too, designated members of the group held back and their ALRQ/R75s used the full power available to them entirely as an electronic warfare platform. They attempted to single out several Chevrokian fighters and prevent them from using their own radars. The remainder held their fire, however, as they negotiated for a better vantage point on their opponents…


F/A-77N “Wipeout” – Carrier Fighter Squadron Fifty-Eight

Captain Petr Demidov watched on his own radar screen as flight leader of the Sixty-Seventh Carrier Fighter Squadron opened fire. He had received the mission dossier in near real-time as Lt. Cmdr. Kornukov created it, and knew what was about to happen. Demidov, however, wasn’t involved in that phase of fighting; he was leading his group in a wide arc to intercept the Chevrokians in the rear. His flight, he hoped, would provide the coup de grace in this engagement in the skies. He bounced his helmet on the back of his headrest, gaining the attention of his backseater, “Anything new with you?”

His radar services offer glanced over the screens at his disposal, “Nil.” Just as he finished saying it, his communications screen lit up with a flash transmission, “Oh shit. Comm from fleet command.” He accepted the transmission. Demidov’s fighter received the transmission due to the failure of the initial transmission to be picked up by its intended recipient, the overall flight leader in Kornukov. Demidov, as the commander of the Fifty-Eighth and as overall second-in-command, was the secondary target. He only received it due to the less dense electronic warfare and jamming present in his vicinity – being largely away from the two bulks of aircraft.

“What the hell?”

“We are to disengage! Direct from the admiral!”

“Get Kornukov on the horn before the shit hits the fan!” Demidov relayed the disengage order to the remainder of his flight, and led their retreat from battle by lifting up on the stick and cycling back towards the west.

“Notice To Airmen valid 03:00 Zulu time, issued by the Chevrokian Aerospace Authority acting in conjunction with the Chevrokian Department of Defense. Coastal ADIZ airspace now extending out to 600 kilometers from the coast of Chevrokian territory, both with regards to the the mainland and the Hjeltland district. As normal, all aircraft intending entrance into or passage through Chevrokian ADIZ airspace are required to identify themselves prior to receiving clearance into. Any aircraft determined not to be authorized civilian air carriers or other authorized international flights on a pre-filed flight plan, or Chevrokian or other friendly military aircraft, are subject to being intercepted by Chevrokian military aircraft, and are at risk of being shot down.”

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

Petersburg Tower, Air Traffic Control
Petersburg International Airport (CPBG)
Petersburg, Sørvest District, Chevrokia Proper

“Petersburg Tower, Speedbird one-zero-one-five heavy holding short runway three-five left, ready for takeoff.”

“Speedbird one-zero-one-five heavy, position and hold three-five left, traffic departing runway heading, Chevrokian CA1000.”

“Position and hold three-five left, we have the traffic in sight, Speedbird one-zero-one-five heavy.”

“Chevrokian five-five-zero heavy, maintain runway heading, climb and maintain eight-thousand five hundred, then make left turn to heading three-zero-zero, wait for further instructions.”

“Follow runway heading to eight-thousand five hundred, then turn left course three-zero-zero, Chevrokian five-five-zero heavy.”

“All aircraft on tower frequency, weather information Alpha now current. Winds three-one-zero at twelve knots, altimeter two-niner niner-six.”

“Hjeltland Cargo one-five-five heavy, switch to departure control frequency one-one-nine-point-four-two-five.”

“Going to departure control, Hjeltland Cargo one-five-five heavy.”

“Speedbird one-zero-one-five heavy, cleared for takeoff runway three-five left, caution wake turbulence from departing CA1000.”

“Cleared for takeoff three-five left, Speedbird one-zero-one-five heavy.”

“Speedbird one-zero-one-five heavy, negate that, continue holding.”

“Roger, continue holding position runway three-five left, Speedbird one-zero-one-five heavy.”

“All aircraft on tower frequency, Notice to Airmen issued which applies to all VFR and IFR traffic within the Sørvest and Fenmaark District airspaces. Significant flight risks associated with military operations to the west of Petersburg, rapidly approaching the coast. Said military operations pose serious hazards to all air traffic in the area. All VFR and IFR traffic are advised to land as soon as possible.”

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

B-95A “Necessary Evil”
441st Bomb Squadron
1,060 km SE of Petersburg

The big Valkyrie was running at wide open throttle to get away from the possible threat from the as-yet unidentified, but seemingly hostile enemy fleet. Moving at Mach 3.5, the maximum speed allowed by the aircraft computer, above which exists the possibility of engine flameout and/or structural failure, the crew of Necessary Evil were trying to put as much distance between them and enemy aircraft and missiles. However, the threat they assumed existed seemed to be rather passive at the arrival and sudden departure of the bomber.

“Say Mathias.”

“What is it, Quammen?”

“This hostile fleet here … well, they don’t seem to be acting very hostile.”

“What’s that?”

“They’re not doing much of anything, by the looks of it. We haven’t yet been painted by radars, either from the ships or from airborne CAS planes, and those AWACS we spotted are still operating passively. I mean, they have to be well aware that we’re here, but they do not seem to be making any sort of effort to bring us down.”

“Can’t say I’m going to complain about that. Something more to relay on to the brass, I suppose.”

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

F/A-77A “High Roller”
843rd Fighter-Interceptor Squadron
600 km W of Petersburg

The minutes ticked by, painfully slowly. Looking forward out of the cockpit, the crew of High Roller would see nothing but the dead of night. No other aircraft were up in the area; any civilian planes were landing as quickly as possible due to the issuance of a TFR from the CAA. Looking in any other direction there wasn’t much to see either. The only way to notice the rest of the 843rd and 844th squadrons were even present was the faint glow of their afterburners. They had no navigation or recognition lights on which could visually give away their position; rather ironic given any enemy aircraft were likely to first fire on them from beyond visual range.

But looking down at the radar display, their radars now operating at full power, Captain Jacob Lindse and the other RSOs could see the hostile aircraft tracks as they continued east and then suddenly turned west to face the Chevrokian fighters. Only the radar display didn’t show clear tracks for long, not long after the bandits turned west the screen erupted in a mass of empty spots, clouds which weren’t actually there which suddenly appeared and disappeared, radar contacts which also weren’t actually there and suddenly appeared and bounced across the map.

Lindse recognized the problem: electronic warfare. In this case, barrage jamming being poured into the sky in an attempt to blind the search capability of the ALRQ/R75 radars. Lindse quickly switched frequencies and narrowed the beam to try and burn through the jamming, and once he was able to do this, he identified the frequency they had been jamming on and hit that himself with spot jamming. Unfortunately, the hostile fighters quickly realized what Lindse was doing and started hopping frequencies, so Lindse also began hopping frequencies hoping to be able to blind the enemy radars for at least some of the time the two formations of fighters would fly before converging.

For quite some time, nobody in either formations of fighters was able to obtain a positive radar lock, until finally a sudden break gave Lindse a clear picture.

“Kurtz we got a lock!” It didn’t matter which enemy plane was locked, although in this case it turned out to be what appeared to be the enemy flight leader. In a very short time after a positive lock was achieved, and Captain Kurtz called out FOX THREE, sending two AIM-12 missiles out after the enemy plane, the enemy had also locked on to High Roller. Another brief period followed between the loud blaring of the RWR in the headset of Captain Lindse and the enemy flight leader loosing his own missiles.

“Kurtz, we’ve been fired on! I’m picking up two inbounds, active seekers. Jamming now,” Lindse said, as the airframe of the Kovas began to hum and vibrate from the large amounts of electromagnetic energy being directed towards the enemy missiles. As Lindse watched, the first of the missiles began to lose its lock on High Roller and went ballistic; fried electronics. The second one lost radar lock, but switched to home-on-jam mode and continued.

“One missile down, Kurtz. Second one still tracking us, home-on-jam. Gonna try something else.” Lindse quickly altered the operating profile of the electronic warfare suite, putting out a false jamming signature which would appear, to the missile, to be emitting from a location 300 meters to the 9 o’clock of High Roller. Unfortunately, this happened to be the location occupied by their wingman Snake Eyes, who upon realizing the missile was deflecting towards them, themselves used the false target trick. However, during the momentary confusion for the remaining AMA-7R missile, it looped around and again locked onto High Roller, and without sufficient time to react, the missile continued to a path which brought it under the fighter’s left wing, where the warhead detonated.

With their left wing gone, the plane on fire and plummeting out of the sky, and essentially every possible warning alarm blaring, Kurtz and Lindse decided it was time to go.


F/A-77A “Snake Eyes”
843rd Fighter-Interceptor Squadron
Somewhere west of Petersburg, Chevrokia

The bandits had put up intense jamming, and Snake Eyes’ RSO Captain Alex Shuvayev had been working frantically to counter every move the enemy planes made in electronic warfare. His pilot, Captain Vasily Chukovsky, had been working hard to maneuver the plane into a tactically good position should a window of opportunity between the electronic warfare open up, so he could fire. Their heartbeats raced even more when a missile was deflected towards them by High Roller’s own countermeasures. Shuvayev managed to cause the enemy missile to pass between him and his flight lead, but then watched in horror as it circled around and shot down High Roller.

“Shit, High Roller’s down!” Shuvayev said.

“What’s their status?”

“Locator beacons on the seats are on, looks like they’ve both ejected.”

“How about the bandits?”

“Stand by, we’ve got a clear picture now. High Roller shot one of them down, twenty three remaining.”

“Right, we’ve got a good lo-“

“Wait, hold on a second. Picture is totally clear, and the rest of the bandits appear to be disengaging.”

“What?” Chukovsky said in confusion.

“They’re not putting out any sort of countermeasures, nobody’s being painted by them either. Looks like they’re diving and turning west. Heading back the way they came, it looks like.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Chukovsky said. “But we’ll roll with it for now.” He switched the intercom so the rest of the 843rd and 844th could hear. “This is Snake Eyes, taking over lead. Bandits appear to be disengaging. We’ll shadow them for a little while to make sure this is the case, and if it is, we’ll head back.”