NationStates Jolt Archive

Three days before now

Cigar smoke hung heavy in the air in the air and a bottle of scotch had made its way around the table, but the resemblance to one of the innumerable back-alley bars or restraunts along the harbor of Alexandria went no further. Here the room was bright and massive, illuminated by rows of overhead lights and the glow of scores of computers and high-resolution screens.

Above the table hung one such screen, currently showing a birds-eye view of the nation of Deserted Territories and the surrounding nations and seas. Every few minutes the screen would flicker and the clouds realign by fractions of an inch, as the display received another real-time update from a satellite whirling silently through the void, thousands of miles away. The long table itself was strewn with sheafs of photographs, maps, and intelligence reports, and further down its length several staffers were bent industriously over keyboards, organizing and digesting the heaps of available data.

There was not a lot for the men at the other end of the table to do, which might have been surprising to one not familiar with the internal workings of Central Command. But at times like this the vast bureaucracy that had, over time, accumulated around these men began to run on momentum, requiring nor even allowing much direct control from the top. Intelligence analysts, coordinators, liaison officers and clerks of a thousand different kinds all had their marching orders, and in a myriad of offices men were examining satellite photographs, calling up and comparing maps and naval charts, or putting together pictures of naval activity around the world from SOSUS and naval reconnaisance reports.

One of the men sitting at the table, a grey-haired and fragile looking man wearing the insignia of a Fleet Admiral, looked up as a staffer approached him.

"Sir, the first units of the Expeditionary Fleet are leaving port on schedule. Battle groups Sinai, Cyrenaica, Alexandria and Tripolitania are under way for Gibraltar and the open ocean."

The old Admiral nodded to dismiss the man, turning to his fellow officers.

"There we go, then. Good times ahead."

"Good times for you, Sash, and your fleet." one of the others interjected. "After that, I'm not so sure."

"Don't worry too much about your ground pounders. By the time they get there we'll have broken a path for them wide enough to drive a fucking continent through."

The old Admiral chuckled as he glanced over a satellite photograph of the naval bases at Mirage, showing the home berths of the Deserted Territories navy. At present, they held a total of three capital ships, one a vessel whose design dated back more than seventy years, the other two vessels of the grossly enlarged type of gun battleship called super-dreadnoughts. And these particular vessels, the Pacitalia class, were known to be a Kriegzimmer design which had severely skimped on anti-aircraft capabilities in order to pack in more surface firepower - a piece of information which would be useful later on.

And what other ships could the rulers of the Deserted Territories call upon, when they needed to throw the enemy back from their shores?

The answer - none at all - was an answer most pleasing to the old officers of the General Staff.

Present time
UNS Sinai
Flag carrier, Task Force 17

Admiral,

On arriving in waters around Deserted Territories, your mission will be to engage in anti-piracy operations including the destruction or seizure of Corporate merchant shipping, the neutralization of hostile naval assets and the destruction of hostile military facilities and infrastructure in preparation for landing by the naval infantry. Direct particular attention to enemy beach defenses and local air assets.

The first amphibious assault forces prepared for this task will depart from Manth no later than the 24th of next month - you have thirty days to prepare the way for them. You will have full discretion and freedom of action in using the forces assigned to your command in whatever ways seem best to you to complete the mission.

Fleet Admiral Mohammed Shamil sighed. One month and fourteen carriers to reduce the Deserted Territories to prepare for invasion... it was hardly what one might describe as an easy task. But, he supposed, it could have been a lot worse.

For one, there could have been a significant navy. Shamil had read through the CCI reports as well, and knew the state of the Deserted Territories naval forces. None of the three ships available to the enemy was expected to provide any more than a speed bump to the Union Navy Air Service, as they lacked both the proper armaments and the proper support from other vessels to serve as anything other than targets.

Neutralizing local enemy air assets which could respond to any landing later would be a far more involved mission, and one that Shamil would be directing the majority of his task forces' efforts towards. Without air parity at least there could be no ultimately successful invasion, and though in absolute terms the Union Army Air Service could muster sheerly (and as a Nacy officer, the word came easily to mind) ridiculous numbers of aircraft to gain such a goal, in practice the distance would mean that most efforts would fall upon the much smaller Navy Air Service.

There were a few more days left before Shamil's force would be close enough to enemy shores to begin combat operations... in the meantime, they were proceeding in a loose formation of supporting carrier battle groups, attempting to dodge in and out of cloud cover and keeping EMCON in place to minimize warning of their approach. While a radically different formation than that of most world navies, which seemed almost universally to favor the 'big angry blob' school of fleet formations, the benefits of a more circumspect, less suiucidal approach were infinitely more in keeping with the doctrines of the Union Navy.

Shamil gazed out from the bridge as a Questarian Supermarine Sportsman AEW craft kicked off the runway, quickly disappearing into the upper air where it would relieve another such aircraft augmenting his vessel's CAP. Though no more than a handful of Shamil's ships were within eyesight from the bridge of the Sinai even on a clear day, he knew that that plane was now providing coverage over a much larger part of the fleet, hundreds of warships in total cutting swiftly through the open seas, their bellies heavy with a cargo of death.

Present Time
Denomination of Foreign Diplomacy Official Statement
To: Vizier of the Deserted Territories

The Greater Economic Union of New Manth, having cemented and resolved its purpose to cleanse the lands and seas of Corporate piracy, is willing to grant forbearance of your destruction should the leaders of the Deserted Territories agree to a complete surrender to the Union. This is the only condition offered or acceptable.

In gracious allowance by the Office of the President, a 24-hour time period is allowed for your response. Lack thereof will be interpreted as refusal - think carefully before your reply, for when the armada of the invader blackens your seas, and the storm of desperate war descends upon your shores, it will be too late to plead for terms.

ooc: orbat to be added as soon as I found where the hell I wrote it down. :/

Oh and yeah, semi-closed. Meaning if you think you ought to be in you should TG me or DT about it first.

(OOC: things on my end might be slow. I have a virus and this mac isn't suiting me well.)

To the Greater Economic Union of New Manth:

The Sacrosanct Un-Holy Sultanate of Deserted Territories will not make an concessions of any manner or type now or in the future, nor have we made any in the past. If you are serious about going forth with your plan of action you better be prepared for a long, hard campaign. The resolve of Deserted Territories and its citizens is formidable. You will not find mercy on our land. We look forward to meeting you on the battlefield.

--

The horizon was clear, not a ship to be seen save the occasional overladen gun-boat passing by, hindered by its one or two large guns. The whole coast was set to blow. The beaches between the far flung ports were mined and barricaded. Cement pillboxes housing machine guns and artillery behind them were manned and ready. CAPTOR mines a mile off laid in sleepy readiness to decimate landing attempts. General Nox overlooked the preparations with satisfaction. Considering the amount of ships coming in and the ships they had, he knew this was little more than a piece of bought time. The real battle would take place in the sandy deserts, but first the precious DT ports had to be secured. He boarded the Desert Patrol Vehicle behind him and was soon fling down a packed desert path along the trenches and fortifications to the Dune Sea Metropolis a few miles distant.

As the buggy bounced along at a steady clip, others like it and heavier desert vehicles preparing to disappear into the sands. The water lapped at the shore not far across the dunes and a faint saltiness penetrated the dry sandy air whipping past his face. His phone rang then and he grudgingly answered it.
"Hello?"
"I hope your preparations are ready. It will not be long now, New Manth has made a declaration and the others will be close behind them," General Peckham said.
"Everything is set, it'll be a nasty day for them. I'm heading back to Dune Sea and then I'm going up to Mirage, it's bound to be a target. We're going to need your AA units all up and down the coast."
"They are already getting set up. Patriots up and down the coast, statics are going up on some buildings in the cities. It'll be a SAM fest, don't worry."
"What about for later? Your desert units?"
"Painted and ready. I'll talk to the locals as well, I know you're busy."
"Good, give 'em some toys while your at it: sticks and stones won't do it this time," Nox paused for a moment while he passed through a security checkpoint at the edge of the city. "What does SAC have planned?"
"Not much for the initial invasion, they want to save their assets for the greater battle," Peckham supplied.
"Horse shit. Tell them they better have something up in the air soon."
"I'll do what I can."

Nox flipped the phone shut stepping right out of the DPV and onto a waiting V-22 Osprey. It lifted off and turned north towards Mirage.

--

At Strategic Air Command headquarters General Boyle moved through the main atrium stepping quickly across the seal (http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/77/Shield_Strategic_Air_Command.png) in the floor. He entered a dimly lit room and sat in front of his colleagues and advisors.
"This is it gentlemen. All our ICBM assets are secured and ready, failsafe procedures are in place and fire control has been turned over to the system, codes are being processed right now. Our airbases are mobilizing: F-35s are en-route to the coast and will begin operations shortly, AWACS are already airborn; the Blizzards are nestled throughout the desert and in the capital," he chuckled silently to himself. 'Blizzards in the desert, ha!' he thought before returning to business.
"Sir, I implore you, the F-35s would be better off inland. The coast is already lost, our navy is too weak to compliment those fighters, we will only be taking unnecessary losses by using them there," a Colonel said.
"I have spoken to General Peckham and every plane we can supply their ground forces will delay the enemy from landing a bit more. The longer they sit under the pound of our shore guns the weaker they will be when they roll onto the sands and face our boys straight on. The fighters stay. As for our bombers, you're right. Without naval support it would be suicide to send them in over the enemy fleet. They will stay back."
"Sir," the same Colonel started again. "Should they make it across the desert, what is our plan to drive them back? We have contingencies for those situations. I think it might be prudent to get those ready."
Boyle stared back at him seriously, he had proposed an insane strategy. "I think, perhaps it would be safe to save those until the most dire need arises."
"Of course," the Colonel agreed. "But they should be ready."
"Very well. Should it come to that, we will be ready."

--

General Peckham was currently standing in the sands between two scraggy bluffs in the southern part of DT. Behind him were two of his subordinates, also in full combat dress, and the DPV they had arrived in. They were there to meet a leader of one of the rural tribes that claimed this part of the desert.
"Sir, spotters are indicating at least 20 scouts," one of his companions said, moving his hand from his earpiece.
"Huh. I must be getting old, I only count 13," Peckham replied.

The tall bluffs around them were apparently unoccupied. Quiet, lone pyres of rock and sand. But to the trained eye of Peckham and his desert-christened men the activity was as clear as day, and it was certainly that way for the tribesman surrounding them as well. The jagged rocks were swarming with both tribesman and DT soldiers, guns trained on one another and the General.
"Where are they?" Peckham asked aloud to himself.

Several more seconds passed by until a faint rotor beat could be heard in the distance. It grew louder, along with the noise issuing from the soldier's earpiece until the helicoptor came into view.
"Where the hell did they find a Huey?" Peckham asked aloud to himself again.

The men shielded their eyes against the sand as it touched down and several men stepped out, clad in long sand colored clothes that shielded them from the stinging winds of the desert. Their leader stepped forward and he and Peckham exchanged short bows of respect.
"I know the military and your tribe haven't always gotten along, but today is different," Peckham started bluntly, no introduction needed.
"We have heard on the radioes. We will not bow to invaders simply to see our enemies destroyed. We have already 'figured you out,' we do not want to learn a new enemy over again," the leader replied in a heavy accent.
"Unfortunately you will have to learn them, we need your help. Our army is large and strong but too many nations descend on us for us to hold out for long. The first wave we will handle easily with our numbers and size. The second, maybe. But as time goes on their combined strength will outweigh ours and their march through the desert will begin."
"We will not let them enjoy their victory. You have the support of the Tribesman."
"Thank you," Peckham said.

Them, as abruptly as the meeting had begun, it ended. Peckham and his men returned to their buggy and sped away. The Huey took off and disappeared on the horizon. The tribes were strong in the south. Befriending the farmers and other rural settlers there along the river, little government control could be exerted there. While much of DTs food ended up coming from there, the government controlled vertical farms throughout the land made up all the official food stocks of the country.

--

General Nox had arrived in Mirage and was gladdened by the sound of the first patrol of F-35s arriving. He moved quickly through the streets in his staff car, pulling up the the slips that housed the remains on the navy.
"Are these ready to go?" he asked an aid.
"Yes sir."
"Get them out there, not too far. They could be some use for protecting these sea lanes, though I doubt Griffencrest will have too much trouble defending its own assets. Pheonixclaw will get us the oil somehow, if he needs to smuggle it through in his own blood even," Nox added after his order. Since Admiral Towser was off flying blimps with Alfegoes, the command of those three ships fell under his own jurisdiction. The Coast Guard's gunboats weren't, but they were complying with his requests. The cities and the endless beaches under constant patrol by the floating guns.

The industrial operations of Mirage were still run by civilians, the pipelines bringing in oil for vehicles running nonstop. The cities were mostly nuclear powered and under emergency conditions the reserves could last several months, even more if they were cut off from the public altogether. Nox was happy to see the defenses coming along smoothly, AA in place, buildings fortified, and most importantly, just like the other two cities, Mirage was stripped bare of all commodities. If they ever managed to actually occupy the city, which wouldn't happen easily, it would be no party. And though he was busy with Mirage, his thoughts dwelled on the mouth of the river far to the south. The three islands were heavily fortified, veritable modern day castles, the waters were blockaded and mined, but all in all he didn't like it. If he had it his way he would sail the three capital ships down there and scuttle them between the islands.

Nox puased in his work, turning to look at the three departing ships. If he couldn't scuttle them they could at least be useful down there. He gave the order. Soon enough they would make their way down to Oasis and join the heavy AAA guns and other SAM sites beneath the islands' lush green foliage.

--

As General Peckham sped back to a nearby base to get transport he consulted his second in command. "Are the Special Forces units being prepared?"
"Yes sir. Their facilities and equipment is being deployed now. It'll be ready if the invasion succeeds."
"Good. Keep me informed."

Approaching Deserted Territories...

Close (at least from a military perspective) to the shores of Deserted Territories, Task Force 17 was stepping up preparations to engage in combat. There were three major coastal cities in Deserted Territories - Mirage, Oasis, and Dune Sea. Phase one of the Manthian battle plan called for the destruction of the remaining Deserted Territories naval forces and infrastructure and the interdiction of all overseas trade - particularly oil.

The Manthian task force was sailing with 17 Cadiz-class submarines - only two of which, in case of enemy first strike, still carried their complement of deadly SLBMs. The other fifteen had been retrofitted to deliver cruise missiles, and were loaded out with over a hundred and fifty BGM-109 Tomahawks. The missile was an older one - when a subordinate had queried about their use, Shamil had testily replied "stockpile reduction" - but they had the advantages of cheapness, relative accuracy, and most importantly a 2500km range on a low, not too obvious flight path...

~2000km off the coast of Deserted Territories

The Apep slid silently through the deep, nosing ever closer to her targets. Within the hull a quietness had taken over as the submarine edged ever closer to her first combat encounter - crew, officers and captain had all seemingly been infected by the same run-silent orders that applied to the sub itself, almost as if the enemy could hear not only their reactors but even an incautious cough. Only when there were orders to be carried out was there action, hurried commands and running feet as one task or another was seen to to prepare the sub for battle. The rest of the time was spent in hushed conversation or silent grapppling with battle nerves, each sailor trying not to think would happen if it was their ship that was singled out, struck by a torpedo or a naval mine, the pressure hull crushed in one single, awful moment... or perhaps even worse, the sub crippled but the pressure hull intact, the crew left to a slow, helpless oblivion resting on the seabed a world away from light and life... Such thoughts often tugged at the edges of the mind in submariners going on their first war mission.

Even the captain of the sub was not immune, though Andrei Boukalos had commanded a submarine during both the Halakan Crisis and the Second Baltic War, and had learned not to let such thoughts distract him. He occupied himself reading instead... the occasional excitement of life on a submarine was punctuated by much longer periods of uneventful boredom, and he knew when he would be required and when he was not. In the meantime the Iliad whirled away the hours when he was off bridge duty. He had just started the book again, plunging for the third time this trip into a world of blood and honor brought to life on the very pages in front of him, yet so far away from his own.

Sing, goddess, of the rage of Achilles son of Peleus,
the destructive rage that rained countless disasters upon the Achaeans...

He read until, about an hour later, he was interrupted by a muted beeping.

With a small sigh, he put the book aside and stood. It was time.

5 mins later...

Andrei entered the conn swiftly, looking to the chief engineer.

"Ready to take her up, sir." the man supplied without need for the question. "We're well within our envelope now."

Andrei received the casual salute without comment.

"Up ten degrees to firing depth."

The nose of the submarine rose slightly, her engines propelling her on an upward climb through the calm waters. As the surrounding water changed from utterly lightless to merely pitch-dark blue, the massive vessel leveled off.

"Ready to release weapons, sir."

Andrei blinked slightly, to banish lingering images of passionate bronze-clad warriors in the mighty clash of opposing ranks, the beating of the horses' hooves upon the fabled plains of Ilium...

Such ideas no longer had any place in warfare. Perhaps a thousand men, perhaps more already had died at his command, ships' crews, passengers, soldiers alike consigned to the deeps by a stealthy torpedo or a missile from afar. And Andrei had never even seen a one of them, and did not think he ever would.

"Release weapons." he said, standing straight and formal.

There was a slight click from somewhere in the conn as the engineer complied, and then, with sudden rapidity, the Apep began to unburden itself.

Ocean

As he had approached Deserted Territories, Fleet Admiral Shamil had split his task force into four distinct elements. Force A, led by himself, would assault the main naval facilities at Mirage; force B and Force C would carry out secondary attacks on the ports of Dune Sea and Oasis.

Three SSGNs participated in the opening salvo against Oasis and Dune Sea, each sub emptying its belly of a hundred and seventy-six Tomahawk cruise missiles in several salvos, distributed against targets throughout the port districts. The attack against Mirage, however involved a full nine vessels - about sixteen hundred cruise missiles slipping over the waves towards the city, intended to cripple the harbor there at least in the short term, and by destruction of their defenses force what little remained of the Deserted Territories Navy out to sea, where they could be easily dealt with.

The Tomahawks' targets were the result of weeks of analysis of military intelligence and satellite photography, and as with all the planned opening strikes had been preselected well in advance. Later things would no doubt become more muddled, with the confusion of a war environment descending and no time available for exhaustive planning. But for now each Tomahawk had its individual target, prioritized in the order of docks, drydocks, coastal radar stations, aircraft hangars and airfields (with the hope of catching some aircraft in the hangars, or at least hampering the enemy's ability to refuel and rearm what aircraft he had), and finally coastal artillery positions and military barracks. Furthermore the networking capabilities of the Tomahawk were extensive, if not top of the line, and each missile had the valuable ability to evaluate its target when it was nearing impact and, if the target had been moved or already destroyed, to reselect and attack a new target from the prepared lists.

Furthermore, a small number of missiles - only six to twelve in each city - had had their warhead replaced with a hollow shell packed with propaganda leaflets and a mild distributory charge. The message which would be showered upon the heads of the people of the three cities was fairly simple.

It contained a copy of the Manthian statement, the Deserted Territories rejection, and the following commentary:

People of Deserted Territories - see how much your government cares for you! Manth comes not to slaughter your people or ruin your nation but to curb your leadership, yet when offered the chance to surrender peacefully, even with a guarantee that they would not be executed, they chose to fight! But whose blood is it that they freely pledge to the defense of their own corrupt system? Not theirs, but yours! See how easily they offer your lives in defense of their stolen wealth?"

The remainder of each force, while not having launched any strike yet of its own, was subtly orienting itself to take advantage of these first strikes. Combat air patrols from the carriers were being extended as far as two or three hundred kilometers out from the battle groups along the expected threat axis - namely, towards the Deserted Territories mainland - and AEW craft carefully monitored the seas and skies for signs of enemy activity. And on fourteen flight decks preparations for the second strike were underway.

During no part of these initial operations had any Manthian vessel approached closer to the shore than about 1,500 kilometers. In preparation for the conflict Manthian strategists had extensively reviewed past conflicts involving the Deserted Territories, including the most recent attempted invasion by the Fedral Union, and the existance of a large network of coastal artillery and CAPTOR anti-submarine mines was well-known and accounted for. The Manthian response to both would be, for the time, to simply strike from far beyond their range.

While all this was going on, Force D, the attack submarine arm of Task Force 17, was engaged on a separate mission. Dispersing through the seas surrounding Deserted Territories - yet similarly not straying too close to the coast and its network of mines - their captains were given orders to sink any merchant vessels underway for the Deserted Territories, as well as to provide an advance warning picket in case of any Corporate forces dispatched to the country's aid. Unrestricted submarine warfare was not a new tactic for Manth, and Deserted Territories would see a repeat of the tactics used in a number of past wars, often to devastating effect.

orbat for TF17:
4 Ark Royal class carriers
10 Triumph class carriers
32 Admiral class cruisers
90 Type 38 destroyers
17 Cadiz-class SSBN (15 converted for use as SSGN)
84 Cartagena-class SSN
33 fast combat stores vessels

Divided as so:
Force A
2 Ark Royal class CV - Sinai, Alexandria
4 Triumph class CV
16 Admiral class CG
45 Type 38 DD
9 Cadiz class SSGN
2 Cadiz class SSBN
10 Cartagena class SSN
Force B
2 Ark Royal class CV - Cyrenaica, Tripolitania
2 Triumph class CV
8 Admiral class CG
25 Type 38 DD
3 Cadiz class SSGN
4 Cartagena class SSN
Force C
4 Triumph class CV
8 Admiral class CG
20 Type 38 DD
3 Cadiz class SSGN
4 Cartagena class SSN
Force D
66 Cartagena class SSN

The actual amphibious assault force, with landing vessels etc has not yet departed Manth, but I will provide an orbat when it does.

Deserted Territories had long been a staunch ally of the Griffincrest Corporation, and was almost always one of the first to raise arms together with Griffincrest whenever the interests of the Corporate Alliance was threatened. Now, not only was the Deserted Territories themselves threatened, but Griffincrest oil shipments to that nation had also fallen under attack. Claudius Griffincrest was not a happy man at all.

The newly remodeled navy was preparing to be sent out yet again to do battle with an enemy of free trade and capitalism. Newly reconfigured Skynet missiles, the brand new Riverstone Cormorant missiles, Khan’s, Shockhounds, and a myriad of other munitions were being loaded into the hundred of ships of the Griffincrest Fourth and Sixth Fleets. These fleets, after seeing their faults during the brief conflict with Rosdivan, have been remodeled. Better, upgraded missiles were installed, and more vessles were added, many more vessels. Rather than only having 144 Um al Maradim class attack ships, there were now 288, and 144 brand new Tarantul class corvettes. These vessels were acquired not particularly for their surface attack ability, but because of their CIWS and anti-air missiles. An attack via missile or aircraft would be terribly difficult on the new fleet, and what happened off Shofercia would never be allowed to happen again.

As these fleets were beginning to set sail for the Deserted Territories, Claudius quickly penned a letter to the government of New Manth.

Dear President of New Manth,

Vessels flying the flags of the nation over which you preside have begun an assault on shipping off of the coast of the Deserted Territories. Not only this, but they have also begun an assault on the Deserted Territories herself. Two fleets of the Griffincrest Corporation have set sail to dissuade these vessels from continuing in the course of action with which they have begun, and, while we do hope that these ships be withdrawn peacefully, we will not hesitate to fire upon these vessels. Please write back, and if possible, arrange a peace conference.

Sincerely,

Claudius Griffincrest

P.S. Sorry about the television.

As the letter was being sent, hundreds upon hundreds of missiles began streaking across the vast absence of space. Dozens of Griffincrest Hunter satellites began to blast away, tearing into any and every satellite, be it military or civilian, that bore the marks of New Manth. Radio, television, scientific, god rod, or spy, all satellites that were registered as New Manthian were being pounded by missiles. Not only this, but over four hundred Griffincrest orbital fighters*, and several dozen solar sailors, began to make their way towards the New Manthian satellites, planning to throw their weight into the chaos in space as well.

* The orbital fighters are basically Soyuz pods, equipped with missiles.

Deserted Territories had long been a staunch ally of the Griffincrest Corporation, and was almost always one of the first to raise arms together with Griffincrest whenever the interests of the Corporate Alliance was threatened. Now, not only was the Deserted Territories themselves threatened, but Griffincrest oil shipments to that nation had also fallen under attack. Claudius Griffincrest was not a happy man at all.

The newly remodeled navy was preparing to be sent out yet again to do battle with an enemy of free trade and capitalism. Newly reconfigured Skynet missiles, the brand new Riverstone Cormorant missiles, Khan’s, Shockhounds, and a myriad of other munitions were being loaded into the hundred of ships of the Griffincrest Fourth and Sixth Fleets. These fleets, after seeing their faults during the brief conflict with Rosdivan, have been remodeled. Better, upgraded missiles were installed, and more vessles were added, many more vessels. Rather than only having 144 Um al Maradim class attack ships, there were now 288, and 144 brand new Tarantul class corvettes. These vessels were acquired not particularly for their surface attack ability, but because of their CIWS and anti-air missiles. An attack via missile or aircraft would be terribly difficult on the new fleet, and what happened off Shofercia would never be allowed to happen again.

As these fleets were beginning to set sail for the Deserted Territories, Claudius quickly penned a letter to the government of New Manth.

Dear President of New Manth,

Vessels flying the flags of the nation over which you preside have begun an assault on shipping off of the coast of the Deserted Territories. Not only this, but they have also begun an assault on the Deserted Territories herself. Two fleets of the Griffincrest Corporation have set sail to dissuade these vessels from continuing in the course of action with which they have begun, and, while we do hope that these ships be withdrawn peacefully, we will not hesitate to fire upon these vessels. Please write back, and if possible, arrange a peace conference.

Sincerely,

Claudius Griffincrest

P.S. Sorry about the television.

As the letter was being sent, hundreds upon hundreds of missiles began streaking across the vast absence of space. Dozens of Griffincrest Hunter satellites began to blast away, tearing into any and every satellite, be it military or civilian, that bore the marks of New Manth. Radio, television, scientific, god rod, or spy, all satellites that were registered as New Manthian were being pounded by missiles. Not only this, but over four hundred Griffincrest orbital fighters*, and several dozen solar sailors, began to make their way towards the New Manthian satellites, planning to throw their weight into the chaos in space as well.

* The orbital fighters are basically Soyuz pods, equipped with missiles.

OOC: wait, i was under the impression you were being attacked on multiple fronts, how on earth can you spare fleets?

@New Manth: Myself, TFU, Mokastana, Cazelia, Greal, DaWoad and others in the Hegemony are already sending fleets to invade DT here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=558771)

General Nox waited patiently, he knew they were close. He paced his control bunker in the basement of the Wanamaker Hardware Co. building near the port at Mirage. Only a slight murmur and rustle of papers filled the space as everyone waited. Things were tensing up around the city. The stress was being slowly relieved by the occasional plane that arrived, ground crews already in place to receive the approaching air force.

Suddenly the noise in the room picked up and before anyone could tell him Nox had moved over to the nearest console. "Anything?" he asked.
"Yes sir, we got 'em. Launches detected, nine targets."
"Retaliate in kind, if you will. Alarms."

Even as the sixteen hundred Tomahawks flew at Mirage sirens went off and personnel ran for cover.

"Counter-measures," Nox grunted out.

PAC-3 Patriot missile launchers using ERINT throughout the city and the surrounding desert came online. Together they released salvo after salvo of ordnance as the Tomahawks neared. In the air, the F-35s let out a limited number of TALONs as they cleared the way for the incoming missiles and headed away for cover.

As Nox's headquarters were rocked by explosion after explosion he received reports of the attacks on the other two cities. "No surprise there," he said. "Would've been disappointed if they didn't lay something extra on Mirage."

He knew he had made the same plans in the other cities and imagined their own compliments of PAC-3s firing. As the explosions subsided at the end of the assault he raced to the surface to see it himself.

As expected there was much chaos as soldiers and the odd civilian fleeing the docks raced about. Fire crews were extinguishing buildings, a great series of smoke columns issued from the docks and slips, he doubted they could've been saved. One of his aids rushed out behind him and he demanded damage reports from him.
"Well sir, generally it is worse the closer you are to the coast. There is serious loss of infrastructure all along the water, several container ships are sinking, threatening to render their slips useless. Preliminary reports show the airfields are doing well. Most of our fighters were scrambled and a few hangers got punched in along with some runways but a full recovery there seems a reasonable assumption. As for-"
"What is this," Nox cut him off reaching down for a scrap of half charred paper blowing down the street. He read it quickly to himself, "Heh, as far as the Vizier goes I'd have to agree with them. Get this stuff cleaned up right away."
"Yes sir," he rushed off to collect a group of men to confiscate the propaganda and clean up whatever was lying around.

Nox looked around and saw a young man reading one of the scraps. He shook is head and walked over, ripping the paper away and spinning the soldier to face him. "Run over to the main barracks, grab the flag-the big one-get a couple of your buddies and string it up on top of that building," he pointed to the top of the most prominent skyscraper. "That'll show those bastards who we are. Go!"

--

On station high above DT B-52s had been dispatched with long-range strategies for counter-attacks. Word had been sent to them as soon as the first launches were detected and it was estimated that the subs would be firing enough missiles to leave time for a surface attack. (As it turned out they would be firing over one hundred each, surely enough time for a counter-attack, assuming they had less than one hundred launchers...) The B-52s across the coast released one AGM-86 ALCM per ship with an extra pair 30 seconds behind for each of the three groups. They flew to the exposed, surfaced submarines. The traditional warheads should be enough to silence some of the soft submarines for awhile.

--

General Peckham was in Oasis viewing much of the same damage, albeit less severe. The plush city had survived the attack well, added fire support coming from the nature preserve at the mouth of the great river. His phone rang at that point, General Nox on the other end.
"Hello. How'd you hold up?" Nox asked.
"Better than you. One of your aids sent me a damage report. Though some submunition hit the airbase, rendered more than half a dozen landing strips unusable, it'll be a while until they're fixed."
"Hmm. You get this propaganda?"
"Yes, we did," Peckham fingered one of the papers in his hand. "I'm getting it cleaned up right now."
"What about the trains?"
"Soon."
"We might not have soon. Dune Sea took several hits at the rail yards. Neigh on destroyed. Mirage isn't looking fabulous either."
"They'll be here in time. Plus they hardly need to be all the way in the cities."
"Alright, I have to go."

Peckham looked about the city and out to sea. It was going to be a long softening campaign. He wished they had a navy. Last reports showed the three ships were making good time along the coast down to Oasis, somewhere north of Dune Sea right now likely.

--

Hidden in the desert, a small rail yard sat, home to only 4 trains. They were small, innocent looking trains made up of only 5 cars. The engines pulled their loads onto the tracks of the main arteries running through DT and started heading for the coast. At the other arteries, identical trains were leaving their berths.

Inside these cars sat theater ballistic missiles (armed only with conventional warheads of course) and they were quickly headed for the coast where their range would allow a preliminary assault on the New Manth and other coalition forces waiting far out at sea. Perhaps these would make them think twice about sitting like fish in a barrel while their subs did whatever they pleased.

--

A small staging area at the Dune Sea Metroloplis held two dozen men being briefed underneath a series of camo-nets.
"Listen closely boys: our commanders do not expect to fully repel an invasion attempt. Our naval forces are ill equipped to handle that task and our shore defenses can really only do so much. Should they gain a beachhead and then push into the ports, our army will retreat to the safety of the desert and it is from there we will fight.

"But you will not retreat, not far anyways. Your mission in the coming days and weeks will be to stay here, in the presence of the enemy, hiding in the dunes and the highway towns, to hinder their movement and morale. You will work closely with the nomads and even criminals that will emerge from the sands to fight alongside you. You have laid your traps and you know your mission. You just got a taste of what the enemy will be throwing at you," he motioned at the destruction around them. "Fear not, there will be more salvos like that one.

"Now go. You have your equipment and your orders. You know this land well. Embrace it, it will be your only friend. Rendezvous is in one month gentlemen, the crash site of the Acropolis. You are dismissed."

With those words the two dozen men separated, mounting DPVs, jeeps, bikes, all heading in different directions. Some out to the desert, others along the highways to the roadside towns. Some even doubled back on foot to check their dodge holes in the city one last time. They were something of a welcoming committee for the invaders, and were eager to do their job.

--

On the other side of the country, the Grand Vizier sat beneath the palace. His entourage had temporarily abandoned him as he sat in silence viewing tactical maps of the ensuing battle on screens in front of him. Far inland at the nations capitol Agrabah, he felt secure in his bunker. Much military decision making went on without him, the Sultan having autonomized the different branches before being ousted from power. To the Viziers lament he could not seem to reverse it nor be allowed access to the processes. It seemed all the top officials were still loyal to the Sultan.

ooc: Blackhelm: This invasion of mine is a part of the whole big round of attacks on the CA, and therefore I have it down as occuring roughly simultaneously with your fight against Rosdivan+Allanea, the Hegemony invasion of DT, etc etc. That should be taken into note when sending forces - this is supposed to be about simultaneous with that fight, so I'd doubt that the ships could be rebuilt and refit in that time.

However I'd be more than happy if you sent forces here, it would certainly make the naval game a bit more interesting, and I'll assume that you plan to send some, regardless of the status of those particular fleets.

Claudius Griffencrest.

Amazing.

Just as you meet a humiliating defeat at the hands of the Rosdivani, just as the Allaneans continue to decimate your forces in Arterus, you attempt to take on a new fight. How many more mercenaries do you think you will have to throw into the grinder before they start realizing that Griffencrest is no longer a good career option?

And how many billions of dollars are you losing every day, Claudius, from lost warships and soldiers, from shipments of oil disrupted due to conflict? How many trillions has it cost you to repair and rearm entire fleets? How many more do you think it will take before your 'shareholders,' losing money, begin to desert you?

And indeed how many of your supposedly vast number of allies have lifted a finger to help you? How long do you think it will be until those few who stand by you are overcome, and you, Claudius Griffencrest, are left entirely alone?

And you demand peace from us? Ubi solitudinem facietis pacem appellabitis, Claudius. And we will do it without regret.

If you wish to avoid destuction, you may surrender your fleets immediately and unconditionally.

******

From 2,500-3000km off the coast of Deserted Territories, widely scattered

News that the Griffencrest Corporation was planning to send naval forces was quickly passed on to the various submarine commanders of Force D. In addition to cordoning off the Deserted Territories from merchant shipping - whether Griffencrest or otherwise - they would now also form the first line of attack against any incoming relief fleet.

******

~1000km off the coast of Deserted Territories

It was likely unbeknownst to the Deserted Territories air controllers who dispatched the F-35s just how far away the offending submarines were - otherwise, they certainly would not have dispatched them, for two thousand kilometers was well beyond the F-35's combat radius of about 1100 km. Perhaps they had thought to locate the submarines closer to shore, or to attack other, easier-located vessels of the task force, but in that case they would be disappointed in the lack of any vessels at all closer to shore than about 1500km.

However, there was a welcoming party of another sort.

Manthian CAPs were ranging around four hundred kilometers out from the fleet in the direction of the coast, but a Supermaine Sportsman AEW off the Cyrenaica, flying well back and intermittently scanning the area with its powerful radar, was the first to make the detection. The notification of incoming aircraft was immediately passed on to two forward squadrons, twenty-four Blackburn Battle F.1s a thousand kilometers off the Deserted Territories coast. A response was quick to form as eighteen aircraft vectored off to intercept the nine inbound F-35s, running subsonic and without active radar (leaving guidance to the Sportsman AEW/AWACS) in order to avoid detection themselves as long as was practical.

A similar problem would face the small missile boats of the Deserted Territories coastal guard - in order even to come within the three hundred kilometer maximum range of the Klub they would have to negotiate seventeen hundred kilometers of ocean and avoid air detection and attack for at least the last seven or eight hundred of those kilometers, as although no Manthian aircraft were venturing very close to the Deserted Territories for fear of SAMs, further out the skies were thick with CAP barriers.

And should they do that, there would be the problem of locating the firing subs, which would hardly sit in one place while the boats sallied out. Indeed, most were already on the move back to the nearest friendly port to rearm, and even despite that, it's hard to locate a sub two thousand kilometers away.


Alexandria Naval Yard, Manth

"You know this will cause far more casualties than if we stuck to our original schedule?"

A continent away - or just as close as the other radio speaker, depending on your perspective - Saad al-Baradei sighed.

"Yes. But unfortunately, our hand is being forced. Hegemony ground troops are already on the sea, on their way to invade the Deserted Territories."

Shamil blinked.

"Right now? Without even bothering to prepare at all?"

"Yes."

Though it was lost on the unoffending microphone, al-Baradei gave it a long, world-weary look.

"It is, of course, the popular strategy with most nations. Simply throw slabs of battleships and missiles and planes at the problem until it goes away, and damn the cost... Of course when mounting an amphibious invasion without bothering to blunt enemy capacity beforehand, the cost will be both staggeringly high and tragically avoidable."

"They do realize just how many more 'avoidable' casualties they will suffer than if they waged a real campaign?"

"Apparently they are willing to trade a great many lives in return for a quicker landing. But as you well know, this must affect our schedule as well."

Shamil shook his head.

"We don't need to. If they are idiots enough to invade without proper preparation, let them be the ones to bleed on the beaches."

"I'm afraid to say that that is politically unacceptable. The Manthian Union was the first to declare war, Manthian soldiers have been the first to open hostilities and the first to put their lives on the line, and the Manthians, Allah as my witness, must be the first ashore and the first to conquer. The Hegemony is attempting to preempt us; no doubt they wish to increase their relative position in the future peace negotiations. Well, the Union will not be preempted, Admiral, do I make myself clear?"

Shamil pressed his lips together; he could feel a flush of anger creeping over him, but after a short pause he nodded.

"Clear. But I do this against my judgement."

"As do I, Admiral. The fact that the Hegemony's rush to invade will cost many a Manthian life does not weigh lightly on me! But there's nothing for it; if we are to defend our interests, then we must act."

The President sighed.

"Since you will have so much less time to soften the enemy before landing, additional forces will be released to your command to support the assault itself - though I caution you it will leave the navy sorely stretched, and I have been forced to completely strip some of the Sections of capital ships. I trust you will not waste them! Two detachments will sail for the Deserted Territories, one drawn from the Red Sea and Mediterranean Fleets, which will sail immediately. The other, which will be drawn from the Territorial Section, will deart in company with the amphibious assault vessels and will sail as soon as the fleet elements can be united in the Mediterranean, that is, about two days. I believe that will be all."

"I will make the most of that time, then. Good day, sir."

Shamil smashed a button with perhaps more force than was necessary, and the transmission vanished.

Two stinking days. Well, the Deserted Territories had been witness to about two hours of war so far, and the tale of that was told up and down the coast in the columns of black smoke rising from the sites of numerous missile impacts. Two days...

Shamil grinned the not-quite-grin of a man suffering from a sudden itching to spread the shit around. Two days? If it was to be two days, then he would make it two days of living hell.

******

In spaaace

Another respect in which Manthian military doctrines differed from many other nations was the way in which the Union militarized space. Rather than invest billions in impractically expensive godrod platforms or orbital nuclear weapons, the Union had, with the exception of some brief godrod experiments years ago, never deployed significant orbital weaponry. Instead, Central Military Intelligence protected its satellites in a very different way - attempted anonymity.

With seventy thousand active nations, with governments forming and collapsing every day, it was never hard to disguise a satellite. Spy and reconnaisance platforms of the Manthian military almost never bore the national markings - instead they were registered to this TV company or that weather network, often companies which possessed no actual connection to the Union. And in many nations it was easy to create a shell company with every outward appearance of legitimacy - orbiting the earth were dozens of satellites belonging to Vetalian, or Damiran, or Mephrasi or Kiravian companies which appeared wholly legitimate to the casual observer. Only the Manthian anti-ballistic missile assets were properly marked, but attacking early warning or ABM birds would be a sure way to trigger a nuclear first strike.

However, where military networks were protected, the vastly larger civilian satellite industry offered few equivalent defenses. Griffencrest attackers would find copious victims in these, and across the heavens dozens of fragile instruments were torn to shreds, sending shards and debris whirling through the void.

Sorry about the TV, indeed. Only majority foreign-owned broadcasters were able to continue completely without disruption. The State News Network was quickly patched through one such network, and the government quickly released statements on the air claiming that the broadcast problems were a temporary problem and would be quickly resolved.

Even as the enemy enjoyed the success of their attack, however, a counter-strike was in progress.

General Koustapoulos Army Airbase

Warning sirens shrilled as pilots scurried to their planes and groundcrew loaded weaponry into the bellies of dozens of aircraft. Just a minute or two ago the men of GKAA had been disturbed by a mighty roar, and spilling out of barracks they had seen the trails of dozens of Praetorian II ASMs rising from the silos on the east side of the base. Only moments later the orders had come through - the airmen of the Union Army Air Service would be adding their own attack to the hundreds of Praetorian missiles streaking towards the heavens.

First Lieutenant Elena Speliopoulos sprinted to her TF-62 Sparrow, clambering into the cockpit as a pair of groundcrew scuttled out from underneath the plane. Before the cockpit was even sealed she was throttling up, and for a moment the roar of the engines drowned out all other sound.

As the shell descended, she fumbled with her helmet, grabbing a trailing cord and fitting it neatly into a slot on the console, then locking it in place by means of a small metal pin.

"This is Charlie Fiver Zulu requesting takeoff -" she barked into the helmet, bringing her plane around and quickly taxiing towards the runway.

"Charlie Fiver Zulu go, you are clear."

She swung the nose around, and now in front of her was a long, empty runway, and the roar of the engines once more filled her ears.

******

From airbases across Manth and the Territories, in the wake of an initial strike of some four thousand silo-launched P.746D ASATs, over eight hundred fighters were rising towards the heavens, each one carrying an older-generation, but nonetheless deadly ASM-135 missile. Pushing as far up in the atmosphere as they could go, the pilots would reach an altitude of nearly sixty thousand feet before releasing their payloads at the remaining Griffencrest space assets.

(OOC: Edits made. Sorry again, and here's a snippet from the other thread that has more to do with you.)

In a dark, cool control car a man by the name of Kennedy sat, focused on his duties. The train he rode had arrived along with its three brothers in Dune Sea and the same had happened in the other two ports. The trains sat parked nonchalantly in no particular place. The four were slightly spread out on adjoining rails, randomly placed to avoid any early suspicion. But as Kennedy went through his check sheet, entering commands into a console and occasionally flipping switches in the fifth car of his train, the four cars of his and every other train began to stir at his commands.

The roofs of the four long cars on each train slowly slid open. It took several minutes as each of the 48 cars were quite long. Soon the bodies of the theater ballistic missiles within would creep into the day light, joining in the readiness of the 32 silos within range of the Manthian fleet.

Noted and you have a TG

This post will self destruct after reading to cut down on thread clutter

[ooc: And in the meanwhile, a short post on to areas that don't concern the SSGNs, which will be edited in or returned to in a subsequent post.

Offshore of the Deserted Territories

No longer having the time to conduct a slow and fairly safe grinding-down of Deserted Territories defenses from afar, Shamil had made preparations to step the fight up a notch. In the wake of the long-range Tomahawk strike and following continuing maneuvering by all vessels to obscure their positions, the surface ships of the task force were being brought closer to shore.

The purpose of this movement was not to begin an amphibious assault, not yet - the amphibious elements were two days away from departing, and several more from actually arriving. So still, even as they 'closed in', Shamil would keep the vessels of all three fleet elements 800km or more away from the Deserted Territories coastline.

The Manthian strike against the Deserted Territories air defense network was planned to be both swift and overwhelming. Force A was sending an initial strike force of some eighty Hawker S.2 strike fighters to bloody the defenses of Mirage, and forces of forty-eight aircraft had been assembled from the flight decks of Force B and Force C.

Flying low over the waves to stay below the radar horizon and staying well subsonic to preserve what stealth they could, the Questarian-made fighters each carried eight Aequatian AGM-88H HARMs - a relatively light SEAD loadout relative to what they were capable of carrying as a maximum load, but due to both the long range of the strike and the yet-unconquered Deserted Territories airforce in wait, it was necessary to carry both extra fuel and air-to-air munitions in addition to the HARMs. At 400km out each attack formation would meet up with a smaller fighter escort and a pair of Sportsman AWACS aircraft for support, with which they would approach ever-closer to the shore...

At about 150 km out, or earlier if radar warning indicators ever indicated that their stealth had been compromised, the strike formations would abandon the attempt at stealth and leave the radar-blind flight altitude, accelerating and climbing quickly as they approached the coastline. This was a deliberate ploy to induce Deserted Territories defense personnel, who would suddenly be seeing a large number of incoming, accelerating enemy aircraft, to light up their ground-based radars in order to pinpoint and attack the incoming aircraft with SAMs, or perhaps to vector fighters into the area to intercept them. While a quite normal response, this would be exactly what the Manthian pilots were hoping for.

Any Deserted Territories ground radars which lit up would present a tempting target to the Hawker pilots and their HARMs. Using home-on radar and home-on jam guidance, backed up by a secondary inertial system, the AGM-88 would be capable of following enemy radar beams right back to their sources, and even guiding itself inertially to the target if the enemy radar operators later shut the system off again. Meanwhile the Manthian AWACs hanging further back offshore aggressively searched the skies for enemy aircraft, feeding targeting information to Manthian fighters and directing the Hawkers' escorts to engage any incoming defensive aircraft.

Loiter time would be highly limited at this distance, of course, due to fuel concerns, but it would be enough to devote some effort both to destroying enemy radar and SAM sites, and also to engage in some limited dogfighting if it proved necessary. But this was also simply the first in a long series of pllanned air attacks, utilizing only a small fraction of the available attack aircraft - even as the first wave was releasing its weapons, a second was being readied on the flight decks, and a third, a fourth, a fifth waited in the hangars and below the decks.

The first Tomahawk missile strike had been intended, true, to do military damage to the local ports - but in addition to that it had served as a sort of message. Something along the lines of "We're here, we're ready to fight, here's a small taste, now if you would like to reconsider surrendering..."

However the Deserted Territories response had been clear - this fight would go to the knife before surrender. From now on the coastal regions would be under near-constant attacks, with sorties flying at all hours of the day and night.

Vetakan Defence Force Naval Ship (VDFNS) Christine Friechdich, Flagship of the Vetakan Defence Force 3rd Strategic Battlegroup, International Waters, Atlantic Ocean, 4 Days Sail to the Deserted Terrorities:

The Vetakan Defence Force 3rd Strategic Battlegroup had been mobilised a month or so ago as part of the “Total Moblization” policy the Vetakan Nation had mounted in response to the World War against Slaves and Pirates that had been declared by numerous nations around the world. Whilst Vetaka didn’t want to get involved as this War against Slavery was not the one Vetaka had been fighting for years previously. This was mounted on the basic human instincts of Hatred and discrimination. However Vetaka had oaths of loyalty to nations around the world. Furthemore it seemed that such Oaths would have to be honoured specifically within the current War that New Manth had launched against the Deserted Territories.

The nation of New Manth was allied to Vetaka via the Delian League and as such Vetaka had obligations to support her Ally in times of War. As such through various closed channels the Political Leaderships of New Mnath and Vetaka had been discussing the War and it became clear that in order to support and protect New Manth, Vetaka would mobilise and subsequently intervene in the war against the Deserted Territories and subsequently the Corporate Alliance. The Forces of Loyalty where once against marching to war in defence of Peace, Honour, Tolerance, Courage and Love.

The 3rd Strategic Battlegroup was now commanded by Supreme Admiral Samantha Mitchell whom had replaced Supreme Admiral Daniel Benson on his promotion to Command of the 2rd Strategic Battlegroup. The 3rd Group as ever saw the massive Nexus Class Hyper Carrier the VDFNS Christine Friechdich as its Flagship the weeks now it had been sailing towards the Deserted Territories where it would combine with the New Manth Task Force 17 and subsequently mount Operations against the Deserted Territories under a Manth led Command Structure.

The mood amongst the Vetakans was one of peace, readiness and desire to just get on with the job. The Vetakans hated marching into battle not through fear but through a desire not to be a force that must bring death and destruction to others. The Vetakans where a fanatical race of peaceful warriors driven by a desire to merely interact and live in a state of harmony and brotherhood with other people, races and nations. On the bridge of Carrier Admiral Mitchell had her head deep in Intelligence and Military Reports regarding the situation on the ground within the Terrorities and on the wider response of the Vetakan Defence Forces to the situation.

Within less than 4 days the Vetakans would mount with the New Manth the invasion of the Deserted Terrorities.

Tactical Attack Sub-Command, Briefing Room 1, Vetakan Defence Force Air Command, Harcombe City, Southern Vetaka, Nova:

"We have utlised Intelligence secured from a variety of sources in order to produce the Targets you currently see. Our sources range from Google and Wikipedia to Intel procured from VSIS, New Manth Intel, Allied Intel, OBSAT and Military Assets". spoke the VSIS Air Force Intelligence Officer at head of the briefing room before the massive pulsating map of the Deserted Terrorities.

The young Officer sipped his water before continuing:

"As ordered by the Council and High Command we have specfically targetted the enemies Air Bases concentrating on Runways, the enemies Naval Bases targetting their Air Defence Ships and Carriers, the enemies Radar and Sensor Installations and finally we intend to hit the enemy Transport Links concentrating on Road and Rail Connections approaching Key Military Installations."

As the Officer spoke the various different targets pulsated more brightly as he discussed them in more depth. Within less than 12 hours the first Air Strikes would be mounted against the Deserted Terrorities targetting military installations and key transport links only.

OOC: More To Come!

up we go

Massed in staging areas along the great desert highways and in the quiet rural communities along them the DT army was fueling up for war. More money by far had gone into the nations ground forces than any other branch and this would reveal itself to be the determining factor in the coming engagements on land. Already having the advantage of superior size to their invaders the resources that weren't spent on the navy, for example, were instead allocated to allow the army to employ the most advanced equipment and field large numbers.

Helicoptor gunships, Specters, and elaborate tilt-rotor aircraft were all available to back the already well-equipped soldiers who were already deploying Shadow RST-Vs and DPVs for reconnaissance and rolling out with the most advanced heavy armor and APCs available to them. DT was patiently awaiting the invasion.

--

200km out active radar on an AWACS radar surveillance plane picked out the approaching Manthian aircraft. Five maritime patrol flights of four F-22 fighters were diverted from around the city to intercept the 80 incoming aircraft. 40 more of their older counterparts, the F/A-18s were sent right behind them from patrols on the surrounding coast. Finally, two additional flights of four cutting edge F-35s were scrambled and hit supersonic to catch up.

As the DT aircraft approached the rapidly rising Manthian fighters the now three AWACS radar planes data linked targets to them leaving them in the relative safety of passive radar mode. With targets designated they fired their AIM-120s in turn as they came into range. The formations split after 80 missiles had left for the incoming Hawkers and moved to fly around the flank of the hostiles as the cruised by and through the missiles.

Still outside of range the ground batteries stayed silent, radars off. The fight was moving rapidly towards them and it wouldn't be long until 200km was a mere 90.

Skies off the coast of Mirage

Chatter immediately erupted over the airwaves, competing for pilots' attention with radar warning receivers and incoming information from their own AWACS as the enemy airforce made its first appearance of the fight. The Manthian pilots immediately adopted new combat postures, their presence for the moment compromised. Sections of Blackburn Battle F1s broke off from escorting the incoming attack aircraft to engage enemy aircraft, veering towards the oncoming F-22s from several directions. Meanwhile the Hawker S2s, while not an incapable fighter intrinsically, were neither a match for an F22 in basic capabilities nor, because of their heavy missile loadouts, maneuverable enough to take the matter to a dogfight; the Blackburns would have to protect the strike fighters long enough for the latter to carry out their missions.

Lieutenant Andreas Basinas was one such pilot; he steadied his Blackburn after the rapid climb and turn to face the enemy, releasing a pair of G43 BVR radar-guided missiles at the first targets he received from the local AWACS as he continued straight towards the approaching enemy aircraft. All around him other friendly aircraft were following course, a hundred and forty missiles lancing out in staggered waves from the seventy oncoming Blackburns. Intellectually, he knew of course that BVR missiles - neither the ones he had just fired nor the ones rapidly converging with his own aircraft - would decide the fight. Attempting to track oncoming stealthy aircraft from the frontal vector would be difficult for both sides, and this fight would probably come down to a dogfight, where amidst chaotic aerial maneivering each side could attack from the much more radar and infrared-visible rear aspect. But that did not make it that much easier to fly straight at eighty oncoming missiles...

The steady beeping of the radar warning receiver turned into a shrill scream as the incoming missiles lit up their own active terminal radars, although Andreas noted somewher in the back of his head that friendly aircraft had also started intense jamming efforts, pumping the skies full of radio noise to disrupt enemy targeting. Then a burst from the radio as his wingman gave a warning, and Andreas jerked his aircraft into a quick and violent downward turn while releasing chaff and hoping. And then in a moment two missiles had blown past him, and looking to his instruments to determine the fate of his comrades.

It had gone not as well as might be hoped - eleven of the seventy Blackburns had not made it through the first exchange - but now the Manthians were rapidly closing with an enemy only a few dozen kilometers away, and their own missiles had yet to take their toll. Bringing his aircraft back into line, he sped towards the approaching furball.



Although the Hawker Cossacks were attempting to quickly abandon the battle, leaving the enemy fighters tied up with their own escort and unable to pursue, nevertheless despite countermeasures and jamming the missile strike also took its toll among their number, a further six aircraft total losses while two were damaged probably beyond recovery. Watching the worse-damaged of those fight for control of his aircraft while it fishtailed its way towards the sea was not a pleasant sight for some of the other pilots - though a parachute unfolded away from the doomed aircraft well before it slammed into the waves, it was a long way both from shore and the fleet, and the odds of a rescue were, to say the least, not certain. But there was a mission to carry out, and doubtless there would be more shit to deal with before it was done...

One Hawker pilot and his wingman broke off momentarily from their approach to deal with the enemy AWACS, the opportunity being not only to remove the planes themselves but also to lighten their aircraft of missiles, making for easier maneuvering in case of further enemy attack. The AWACS themselves would not be a hard target to find, what with them filling half the skies with radar emissions, and a pair of missiles was loosed at each aircraft. Meanwhile twelve trailiing Hawkers had been in a position to add to the Blackburns' initial strike, putting an additional twenty-four BVR missiles towards targets designated by the Supermarinie Sportsman AWACS before turning and attempting to skirt the fighter groups.

And meanwhile, six hundred kilometers away, the second wave of strike aircraft began to roar off the flight decks...

*******

Satellite reconnaisance over the Deserted Territories, while not expunged, had been at least moderately disrupted by enemy attacks, and other forms of active surveillance were hampered by the enemy's as-yet intact ability to contest their own skies. But various forms of reconnaisance continued apace; from the efforts of remaining photographic and infrared-aspect satellite assets, to the utilization of disposable, missile-launched high altitude reconnaisance drones fired from the fleet to pass over enemy shores and gather passive data, to a continuing large-scale ELINT effort to analyze any signals intercepted by listening Manthian ships or aircraft.

Thus it was that at about two in the morning, Commander Mihail Konstantaras found himself staring at a long list of force estimates and suspected major staging areas of the Deserted Territories army, fighting against the slow roll of the amphibious assault ship Tisiphone which provided a soothing temptation to slip into a much-delayed sleep. There was more work to be done yet, what with everything and its grandmother now on accelerated schedule... had he had the opportunity, Mihail would have provided some choice words for those who came up with the ridiculously tight timetables of the operation.

Most of the information available to him, especially on the specific locations of enemy forces, was accompanied by a number of qualifications - "suspected," "believed," "possible" and even, in one case, some ass-covering MIA bureaucrat had come up with the phrase "possibly likely." That elicited a moment's groan at intelligence community opaqueness, but there it was; in wartime one could not expect to know the positions of enemy forces 100% reliably, or often indeed with any real degree of accuracy at all. But the overall trend was fairly clear. The Vizier's generals were massing ground forces along the highways of the country's vast desert interior.

Rubbing his face momentarily as he turned his attention from the list, he began dictating a message to the advanced fleet. This move from the Deserted Territories was neither unexpected nor unintelligent - they probably realized that trying to spread out all their forces defending the country's long coastline would merely dilute their strength, in addition to exposing them to attack from the Manthian and allied fleets which enjoyed complete dominance of the sea. Instead they were holding men in reserve inland, which gave them a wide variety of tactical options when the landing came - they could shuffle forces from the central reserve to attack whatever area the Manthians eventually landed at, or remain as a mobile force to contest the country's interior in a decisive series of battles, or attempt to pin an advancing Manthian force between attack from the cities to their rear and the deserts ahead... The point was, this reserve force in the interior of the country would be the eventual greatest obstacle to Manthian victory.

As the Tisiphone forged on through the swells of the vast, international oceans, aboard the Tisiphone generals and staffers labored long into the morning, forging amidst frequent communications with the home bases in Alexandria and the advance fleet an operational plan for the invasion, to safely put ashore the uncountable thousands of men who would be needed to bring the Deserted Territories to submission.

And around this one vessel, stretching for hundreds of miles fore and aft, a thousand ships and more forced their way through the unyielding sea, their bellies thick with the instruments of war...

ooc: I don't care to provide an orbat of every single one of hundreds of landing craft or supply ships, so I will just list the commissioned warships and the divisions/divisional elements marked out for the initial assaults. Division comprises fifteen to twenty thousand personnel - extremely detailed descriptions thereof I am not bothered to provide.

2 Ark Royal-class fleet carriers
14 Triumph-class fleet carriers
18 Admiral-class strike cruisers
40 Town-class air defense cruisers
180 Type 38 destroyers
170 Cartagena-class SSN
^mainly engaged in sealane sterilization in waters stretching around the rest of the ships
45 Lord amphibious assault ships
60 Ungforth-class landing platform docks
~3700 assorted fast combat stores, sealift, floating docks, landing vessels etc etc etc involved in the initial operation

Divisions/parts thereof:
8th Naval Infantry "Red Tide"
10th Naval Infantry "Golden Sun"
401st Naval Infantry "Shipwreck"
415th Naval Infantry "Argonauts"
733rd Naval Infantry "Salamis"
790th Naval Infantry "Actium"
9th Light Infantry "Thermopylae"
14th Light Infantry "Marathon"
16th Light Infantry "Zama"
1st Armored "Achilles"
5th Armored "Ajax"
28th Armored "Boxer"
30th Armored "Khalid ibn al-Walid"
33rd Armored "Alexander"
3rd Mechanized "Rock of Jerusalem"
7th Mechanized "Raiders"
44th Mechanized "Cypriots"
76th Mechanized "Uthman"
80th Mechanized "Kataphraktoi"
111th Mechanized "Butchers of Bergslåden"
183rd Mechanized "Pale Horse"
190th Mechanized "Black Acid"
191st Mechanized "'Amr ibn al-'As"
199th Mechanized "Imhotep"
200th Mechanized "Scimitar"
208th Mechanized "Borderlands"
250th Mechanized "Desert Wind"
302nd Mechanized "Italia"
338th Mechanized "Crucifix"
373rd Mechanized "Ramses"
384th Mechanized "Konstantin"
399th Mechanized "Iron Horse"
405th Mechanized "Sayf-'ullah al-Maslul"
440th Mechanized "Empire"
499th Mechanized "Abu Bakr"
562nd Mechanized "Thunderbolt"
575th Mechanized "Heavy Metal"
612th Mechanized "Silver Legion"
613th Mechanized "Diomedes"
682nd Mechanized "Fire from Heaven"
910th Mechanized "Saad al-Baradei"
943rd Mechanized "Baltic"
950th Mechanized "Delos"

And now that I am done boring people with lists of division names...

The DT fighters had already split ranks when the enemy's missile assault began and they continued to disperse rapidly as the missile followed. The sky lit up with their active radar for a quick second to fire TALON counter-measures before they went passive again pumping flares, chaff and taking evasive maneuvers. The pilots brought their noses to bare on the missiles, facing them head on to reduce their profile praying counter-measures and jamming from the three trailing AWACS would save them.

The newer fighters, F-22s and Joint Strike Fighters fared well with only over half a dozen planes lost or damaged. 5 of them were out of the fight for good, one way or another, and a few steadied their wings to loose their standoff weapons before bugging out. The F/A-18s suffered worse at the missiles' hands with 13 being destroyed or damaged beyond repair, a handful more forced to continue the fight from long range, dog fighting abilities compromised.

As the chaos of the first wave of attacks subsided and the two opposing waves of aircraft neared each other a flight of F-35s broke off to engage a group of Blackburns headed for the AWACS. The lead pilot watched as six missiles flew from the formation, 2 for each AWACS and ordered his wingmen to fire counter-measures. TALONs flew past his right window as he armed his AMRAAMs and fired. His 3 wingmen acted in kind right after him, a missile at each of the offending fighters.

Meanwhile the two fighter groups had come head to head as the expanding cloud of planes flew past each other, cannons firing almost futile bursts as planes flew past each other nose-to-nose. The F-22 Raptors vectored around to engaged the enemy on a dime splitting formation and joining in the growing maw of dog fighting. The F/A-18s also came to bear on the enemy fighters though 16 broke to harass the trailing enemy AWACS and Hawkers. Three hefty AIM-120s at varied targets, several at any AWACS and the rest at the Hawkers.

When the missiles had been fired at them the AWACS took standard evasive action and prepared flares, but they also activated decoys that trailed far behind them on cables. The lit up to make a radar signature twice that of the AWACS which swung out into the missiles view as the planes went passive before the missiles hit. After the TALONs had thinned the missiles the decoys worked wonderfully with no serious damage being done to two AWACS with the third still able to stay on station and limp home while a replacement was sent up.

On the ground the AWACS wasn't the only plane departing, 50 BF-02 Blizzard fighters were scrambling to relieve the planes already fighting and hand fulls of Joint Strike Fighters, Raptors and F/A-18s were also gearing up to face the second wave.

[post got eaten when nearly done - there will be a slight delay in providing the requisite aerial back and forth, undersea skullduggery, and general preparation for ground invasion. Back tomorrow :/ ]

[by "tomorrow" I clearly meant "sometime next week..." sorry for delay. Job finishing, school starting... you know how it is... :/ ]

Skies offshore

Andreas was far too busy to pay any attention to the prickles of sweat beneath his flight suit, or to the tiny part of his mind that was screaming to get the hell away as fast as possible.

He had loosed another pair of standoff missiles as the opposing groups of aircraft closed, but by this point the air was full to bursting with radio noise from every direction, both sides' electronic support aircraft doing their best to overspam enemy guidance signals and in the process creating masses of electronic clutter for everyone, and neither missile had been able to maintain anything resembling a lock. At least it had lightened the plane a bit.

Now there were frantic maneuvers going on in each incoming group of planes as the long-range exchange gave way to close dogfighting, aircraft from both sides shooting through the skies or circling madly in a battle for position; Manthians trying to use teamwork and their slight numbers advantage to isolate individual bandits from the pack and bring them down, and the enemy in turn trying to take advantage of the F22's excellent maneuverability to score early kills - all while the battle raged above, below and to all sides.

Information was coming at Andreas from a dozen directions - AWACS data straight to his helmet display, the radio full of callsigns, warnings, calls for help, the radar warning receiver starting to-

ohshitohshitohshitohshit...

Andreas didn't have time to wonder how a bandit had ended up on his elbow, with the radar warning receiver blaring in his ears everything else suddenly took second seat to the overriding imperative: avoid! By the time his higher brain was shaking itself free of terror he had already jerked the Blackburn into as hard a turn as he could manage. Sudden force compressed him into the seat; the battlefield full of dancing black specks whirled before his eyes as brown began to creep around the sides of his vision, but the RWR went off again, the other was sticking him...

And then, blessed silence from the RWR, and a burst of static from the radio, his wingman's callsign recognizable though jamming had scrambled most of the message too much to interpret. But the gist was clear, as Andreas finally dared to level out of the turn; the hunter had become the hunted, and now in turn the F-22 was jinking across the sky in evasive maneuvers, and a Blackburn was stooping from above to shove a pair of heat-seekers up the enemy's ass. At about the same time it registered that over a dozen enemies had broken off, leaving the Manthians with a comfortable, almost 2-1 numerical advantage. But the fight was still hot, missiles and tracer rounds lighting up the sky as the ongoing furball played out in a number of 1 on 1 or 2 on 1 chases...

****

There were slightly under seventy of the Hawker Cossack strike fighters left to face the dozen-odd pursuing bandits, after losses and a pair breaking off to pursue the enemy AWACS. Good odds, but it was complicated by the heavy missile loads which would leave the planes too heavily loaded for quick maneuvers in a dogfight. The solution the Manthian commanders selected was to immediately round on the pursuers, hopefully before they got too close, and conduct a series of fast slashing attacks - one group of Hawkers would approach, attack at high speed without breaking course much, and then flash on by the enemy jets. By the time they might turn to pursue the first group a second would be headed at them to cover the first as they turned to reingage, and so on until most of the bandits were downed, at which point the chase could be left to a few pilots while the majority finally was able to return to their original course. By that time the fighter escort would hopefully also have mopped up most of their opposition, and would be able to rejoin the group.

****

Meanwhile the strike against the enemy AWACS had been generally unsuccessful, in that they were still flying and still providing coverage. Still such lumbering, easy-to-locate planes were in poor position to make a quick getaway, and their fighter cover was by now either well tangled up in dogfights and thus unavailable to help, or else taking the fast route down to sea level. The Manthians, by contrast, could spare some aircraft from the fight. The two pilots who had carried out the stand-off attack raced to chase down the AWACS, ready to expend as many missiles or even cannon rounds as necessary to bring them down - an AWACS was a far more valuable target than any ground radar they might have been able to hit otherwise, and it would be best to take both out quickly before any enemy reinforcements could arrive to defend them.

The enemy counterattack, unfortunately, had been more successful against the Manthian's own AWACS - countermeasures and jamming had saved one AWACS, but the other had not had the same luck and now at a stroke the local AWACS coverage had been cut in half. Still, there were enough aircraft remaining on the flight decks to feed into future battles - especially now with promised Vetakan aid - and over blue water was a better place than most to bloody the enemy's air power.

****

Still several hundred kilometers away from shore - over a half hour away from the current battle, and that was forever as far as air combat went - data about the engagement had been provided by the same AWACS, only shortly before it had been sent flaming into the sea, and from there back to the various battle groups of the Manthian expeditionary force. Expectations had been changed slightly for future attacks, and on each pilots' radio the voices of his squadron leaders could be heard briefing on the situation.

Enemy aircraft are operating further than shore from expected... believed that AWACS are being used to direct large groups of enemy fighters to intercept incoming attacks. Your first priority is to destroy any bandits your squadron encounters, before continuing to attack land targets. I'm told that "measures" against hostile AWACS are being taken...

a bit of cynicism could perhaps be discerned in the captain's voice here...

...so we may not have as interesting a time as B Group, however, we could also easily end up in the same situation. Super Hornets make up the bulk of forces seen so far. You will face fewer but significant numbers of Raptors and Lightning II.

Up and down the coastline, four or five hundred kilometers out

One of the most important goals of the campaign to reduce enemy air power was to target their AWACS, and the recent engagement had given important clues as to the enemy deployment. The incoming strike had been picked up several hundred kilometers offshore by enemy AWACS, that much had been clear from radar warning receivers. That meant that the enemy had AWACS deployed well offshore to guard against incoming Manthian attacks - a position where they were useful, but also vulnerable and far from friendly airfields and defenses. If these AWACS could be successfully attacked, the enemy would be forced either to accept potentially unsustanable aircraft losses in order to keep up his defensive cordon, or else to withdraw it and lose his warning against attacks.

Ten to twelve aircraft would range up and down the coast, flying at a stealthy subsonic speed under strict EMCON. They would search for enemy AWACS by their radar emissions - detectable to the Manthian aircraft long before the returned signal was significant - and then swiftly close in and attack the AWACS bird with standoff, radar-guided and home-on-jam missiles before fleeing again. Not only would this plan potentially drive away or eliminate enemy AWACS, but it was also hoped that with various AWACS up and down the coast reporting they were under attack, it would become much harder for the Deserted Territories commanders to distinguish a major incoming strike formation from a hit and run attack by a pair of Blackburns.

Under the sea

The Deserted Territories Navy was insignificant enough that the simple task of sinking it might have seemed practically irrelevant in comparison to the greater work done, all the laborious work of preparation for the invasion, not to mention the other ongoing fighting. Nonetheless just because eliminating the enemy's three battleships had been judged trivial did not mean it was an unnecessary step.

An air attack had been contemplated, in part to take advantage of the weak air defenses of the Macabean super-dreadnoughts. However in the end the decision had been made to attack from below. A carrier could only keep so many of its planes in the air at one time, and dedicating a portion of that number to naval operations would take away from other requirements. It was comparatively much easier to strip a few nuclear submarines from their main task of commerce interdiction to make the attack; many of the submarines had been positioned originally to provide a barrier to other Corporate forces attempting to aid the Deserted Territories, but it seemed no such forces had ever departed.* A bit silly, some thought, that the enemy would lay down their lives so readily for such an uncaring alliance; but such it was.

Eight Cartagena-class submarines had slowly made their way towards the enemy coast, though taking extreme care not to get *too* close* - the presence of an anti-submarine CAPTOR mine net a mile or so from shore was known from Manthian studies of previous attempted invasions of the country. Thankfully a superdreadnought was not at all a stealthy target, and quite possible to track on passive sonar from many kilometers away.

Having briefly come near the surface some hundred kilometers offshore to deploy communications buoys, the eight submarines had thence crept in a few dozen more kilometers before finally being in position to strike. Each submarine had a designated target, and upon obtaining a firing solution each in turn released its attacks - eight keelbreaker torpedoes, designed to use the vast weight of the battleships' and especially the superdreadnoughts' armor and structure against it. Due to the difficulties of communicating between submerged submarines, it would prove impossible to precisely time the attacks to arrive at the same moment, or attack each ship simultaneously - instead, torpedoes would come in in waves, the later ones hopefully dealing killing blows to an already crippled ship.

The submarine captains would not be waiting around to examine the results of their attack, however - scoot and shoot, or its undersea equivalent, was the rule of the day.

On other fronts

Thousands of miles away from the shores of the Deserted Territories, however, some voices in the highest councils of the Union had begun to question whether a ground invasion of the main nation would prove necessary at all. The argument went something like this: the original reason for attacking the Corporate Alliance had been its piracy and belligerent overseas attacks, not the purely domestic policies of its nations; therefore, in the case of the Deserted Territories, had not the battle already been won? The slim remnants of the enemy navy would soon decorate the seafloor; more importantly, his naval infrastructure had been thoroughly damaged, and any parts which had escaped destruction could be destroyed from far offshore with trivial risk at any time.

Given that, the state was no threat to any overseas nation anytime soon. And any attempt to regain a powerful navy would first require the rebuilding of that naval infrastructure before a fleet could be supported again; but by the same token, without that navy, the Deserted Territories could not prevent a Manthian naval force from essentially repeating the first few days of the conflict at will, destroying the naval yards before they could be put to use.

There was a real interest to find out whether the leaders of the Deserted Territories shared the same view of the situation as the Manthians. If so, an interim peace might be possible, if necessary, Manthian planners proposed, it could be negotiated after seizing the useful offshore islands as bargaining chips. Shortly, through a third-party embassy,** inquiries were discreetly placed about how the Deserted Territories would feel about a proposed treaty; proposing that they pledge not to build a navy capable of power projection, nor the necessary naval facilities to support such a navy, and in turn they receive a ceasefire.

It was not the highest priority - military operations continued, and likely would at least until certain objectives were met, such as the capture of the offshore islands, regardless - but the gears were beginning to turn.

*I have sent BC multiple TGs and other forms of reminder about this thread, but have received no responses, Between that, and the fact that he only made one post and that was something like ten weeks ago, I'm not considering his forces to have been involved here.
**or similar, doesn't really matter

ooc: just wrapping up the thread. Fluid time: this is considered now well in the past and the treaty terms such as reparations and non-aggression are no longer in effect.



The Greater Economic Union of New Manth and the Sacrosanct Unholy Sultanate of Deserted Territories, desiring to end the state of war now existing between the two countries, have agreed upon the following articles:

I. The government of the Deserted Territories agrees to halt all military operations against the Greater Economic Union immediately upon signing this document. The Greater Economic Union likewise agrees to halt all military operations against Deserted Territories and withdraw all its naval and air assets from Deserted Territories territorial waters and airspace.

II. The Greater Economic Union will, upon the signature of the present treaty, send back to the Deserted Territories, at its own cost, any and all prisoners of war and citizens of the Deserted Territories which are now in its custody. Equally, the Unholy Sultanate shall repatriate all Manthian prisoners of war and citizens in its custody.

III. War reparations in an amount equal to 50% of the total military budget of the Deserted Territories are to be paid to the Greater Economic Union for a term of five years. The minimum annual reparations payment shall be the sum calculated according to the present year's budgets; that is, D$7 trillion per annum.

IV. All military personnel of the Deserted Territories currently stationed abroad are to be withdrawn back to the Deserted Territories, and all overseas military bases currently belonging to the Deserted Territories are to be evacuated and abandoned - including in entirety the previously occupied territory of Barukin.

V. Military bases within the Deserted Territories which are owned or operated by the Griffencrest Corporation are to be evacuated and closed, and all associated Griffencrest personnel are to leave the country.

VI. The Greater Economic Union and the Deserted Territories agree to a binding treaty of non-aggression to last for a term of ten years from the signing of the present document, which shall however become invalid if either party violates the terms set out above.

[seal] The Greater Economic Union of New Manth

The Sacrosanct Unholy Sultanate recognizes the Treaty of Alexandria and all its terms and conditions and will uphold them in full.

*Signed, the Vizier
http://i611.photobucket.com/albums/tt191/desertedterritories/deserted_territories.jpg