NationStates Jolt Archive

ooc: Well I hope my above post didnt ruin it. :p

OOC: My camp is in a completely different place! Hell, it doesn't even exist, cause it dispersed!

BTW, ND, can you please respond to my post on the previous page?!

OOC: What, the camp you talked about in your long post has moved already? The survivors of the nuke attack one? The camp on the border?

You know what, just ignore the whole thing. I'm getting fed up having to catch up with two days worth of RP no one bothered to mention in the old thread.

The new aide walked into Palpentines office, bowing and shaking with fear as the chanceller was absent mindlely toying with the hair of a decapitated Fanboyist prisnor.
"Y-your highness...The missile detonated as planned...The Fanboyist troops have suffered heavy losses--"
"YESSS!!! Its all going according to plan...My glorious plan...Soon all will know of its greatness...I will unite the region, then I will decorate my office with amazing pieces of art like thisss!!!"
He raised the still dripping head, and the aide had to run out of the room.
Wondering why no one liked his work of art, he started tugging on its hair. Muttering angrily.

OOC: Wow. I laughed so much at that.

Alright, now seriously, where'd you get the head. Only I may do that! :P

ooc: Well I hope my above post didnt ruin it. :p

OOC: Naah. Though I'd also appreciate a military response, so its not just a nice-n-easy over the border-hop.

The 27th flight lead, having recieved a reply, tuned the radio to the Gordonopian frequency and drew the attached microphone clsoer to his mouth.
"Good to hear for you," he said into the device, his voice amplifying itself slightly as it was changed for sound into electrical pulses.
"Yea, well. We'll get some MiGs in the air here in a bit. Just need to get them refueled and rearmed."
He quickly and somewhat oddly changed the subject.
"So, how's the weather down there? More importantly. How are your men holding up?"
He put down the microphone and got out of his flexi-chair, leaving the shade and relative comfort of the tent and calling a few pilots into the main terminal for a briefing. He didn't even bother to wait for a reply from the Gordonopian, and left it instead to one of his radio operators. He had more pressing matters to attend too at the moment.

======

Everything inside the main terminal had been renovated. The chairs and benches that normally would have lined the interior had been stacked one on top of the other and positioned against the large glass windows to act as not only a reinforcement, but also as a defense in case of an attack. Most of the flooring had either been scuffed up beyond recognition by the movement of such large objects, or covered over in electronic equipment or mats. The only thing that made the building still look anything like a terminal were the check-in desks, which reminded anyone who saw them that a working airport once stood here.

In a backroom, what likely would have been an oversized office or breakroom, "Rainy" had assembled a briefing area complete with two scale maps for the region, rows of chairs, a pinning board (Of which held one of the maps), and a coffee machine. Although it would ahve been capable of housing in upwards of over 100 pilots, only 5 or 6 were actually inside. Standing in the front of the windowless room, Rainy began giving a run down of the sortie they were about to undertake. He reached for a laser pointer, and went straight to the point of the whole meeting.
"Ok guys, simple mission today. We go up, fly towards the Gordonopian positions, take down a few bombers, and do a big favor for our allies. Not to difficult is it? Any questions?"
A pilot, tall and somewhat lean with graying blonde hair raised his hand. He was in his mid to late thirties, one of the younger pilots of the 27th. As they were well known as some of the best in the world, it was widely assumed that they were a bunch of young and cocky kids, fresh out of the Academy. That could not have been more from the truth, with most of the 27th's pilots being an average age of 40 and having served in combat more than a dozen times. With age came ample amounts of experience, and when you pit two pilots together, the better one will always win. Training can only prepare you for what might happen. Experience will prepare you for what will happen.

"Sir, what kind of resistance can we expect from these aircraft? I know they're bombers, but who would be incompetent enough to not cover them with fighter support?"
Rainy responded,
"I don't know what to expect, so keep on your guard. From what the Gordonopians told me, it doesn't seem as though there are any escorts. However, you all should stay on your guard. Anything else?"
No hands were raised this time.
"Alright then, pilots to your aircraft. Wheels up in 20!"

While the jeep was approaching the enemy camp, Rachel was wondering if they would take her out of her Air Force uniform,
http://airmanjacobson.com/db4/00360/airmanjacobson.com/_uimages/header2.JPG
and force her to wear prisinor clothes. Or just tear her clothes to rags and force her into one of the gas chambers...She shuddered, but tried to remain strong.
All those horrible things they say about the Gordian's, cant all be true.
Can they?

OOC: I'm bored. I officially declare myself the winner of this thread. All in favor?

ooc: You can always come back later when your not as complainy

OOC: T'was just a joke. I wanted to see if anyone would actually say "Aye!"

"Blitzkreig? Gas tanks? That sounds like Adolf Hitler. We're a Republic, supporting freedom, we would never do something like that. Palpantine is insane. We recently got a report that he launched a nuke at some Fanboyists. The scary thing is, they were in North Defese territory."

The jeep was now only a couple of minutes away from the camp.

OOC: Aye! No, not really. I'm in favor of myself, or at least the SD Coalition. Speaking of which, it's been a while since I used my Godsends.

"Blitzkreig? Gas tanks? That sounds like Adolf Hitler. We're a Republic, supporting freedom, we would never do something like that. Palpantine is insane. We recently got a report that he launched a nuke at some Fanboyists. The scary thing is, they were in North Defese territory."

The jeep was now only a couple of minutes away from the camp.

OOC: But I'M not a republic... *grins evilly*
Speaking of...
ND, I'm going to assume now (seeing as I gave you a chance to stop me, and you failed to use it) that you're going to let the two divisions escape now.
So they will.

IC:
A few days later...

The bloodied remains of the 44th and 47th Armoured divisions finally staggered back to the far-inland and fairly well fortified new HQ of the Expeditionary Force. Field Marshal Hohenzorn was waiting for them.

The newly-promoted Major Warner Kurtzman and Major General Knispel strode up to meet him. They stopped and saulted.

"At ease," the Field Marshal said quickly.
"Thank you, sir," Kurtzman said.
"Come in, both of you. Your men will be directed to the quarters we've dug in the bunkers we've built here." And indeed, the place was a veritable fortress, with a system of trenches already dug with foxholes, which were quickly being reinforced with rock and concrete. Among other things, the low-profile and use of local materials meant it would be harder to spot with satelite imaging.
"Please, tell me what happened," the Field Marshal asked.

So they told him. When they finished, Hohenzorn sent a communication to the Gordonopian and Falkasian forces with a message.


To all Allied Forces

I would like to confirm any reports you have gotten of a nuclear strike being used against our forces. Many were killed and injured, but a miraculous number of men and their equipment escaped. I have sent the news home, and I am awaiting Generalissimo Grimmeberger's response. I doubt he'll be happy.

According to our men, the attack was carried out on ND soil, meaning the Chancellor has obviously lost his mind. If he is willing to do that, there is no telling what else he may do to his own people, and any nation that stands in his way.

It is for this reason that I propose toppling his regime and installing a democratic one, for the safety of the Northern Defesian people, as well as the safety of the world at large.

Please Reply, Urgent

Field Marshal Erik Hohenzorn, Commanding Officer, Federal Defesian Expeditionary Force

Palpentine was enraged at his people for no apparent reason other then they were not gleefully throwing themselves at the enemy with bombs strapped to their chests.

So when he went for a walk outside the capital gates, he ordered everyone he saw to be arrested and shot.

He also ordered a curfew, anyone who broke it would be shot.
And sometimes, he had the Secret Police kidnap pretty young women and bring them to his dungeon, were he would chain them up and flog them for "Giving into the sin of lust"
The bloodstained wall's were the only witnesses to what else went on down there...In the deeper sections...
--
Meanwhile
1,000 Apaches were deployed to destroy the Fanboyist emplacment, they would be covered by 500 artillary battaries, 7,000 Abrahm tanks, 200,000 heavy infantry, and 190,000 heavy APCs.
They started the march from ND territory, to mountains about 52 miles from the Fanboyist fortress, an AWAC was launched to scan the area ahead, escorted by 3 F-22 Raptor's.

Time untill they reached the mountain range:
2 days

OOC: Alright, there's no way you have that many tanks. For starters, I'm bigger and richer and I don't think I have that many in my entire military. And that strained my spending. So logically, there's no way for you to have that many tanks just being thrown around. Not without your economy imploding and the rest of your country being in pretty sorry shape. That wouldn't be a harassing force. That's a force aimed at destruction.

Also, how can they begin assaulting me BEFORE they reach their destination? I'm also pretty deep in SD territory. It would take at least a day or two for the main force to reach me.

You dont have 1000 tanks in your entire army?
o.O

ooc: you typed 7,000

OOC: But I'M not a republic... *grins evilly*
Speaking of...
ND, I'm going to assume now (seeing as I gave you a chance to stop me, and you failed to use it) that you're going to let the two divisions escape now.
So they will.

IC:
A few days later...

The bloodied remains of the 44th and 47th Armoured divisions finally staggered back to the far-inland and fairly well fortified new HQ of the Expeditionary Force. Field Marshal Hohenzorn was waiting for them.

The newly-promoted Major Warner Kurtzman and Major General Knispel strode up to meet him. They stopped and saulted.

"At ease," the Field Marshal said quickly.
"Thank you, sir," Kurtzman said.
"Come in, both of you. Your men will be directed to the quarters we've dug in the bunkers we've built here." And indeed, the place was a veritable fortress, with a system of trenches already dug with foxholes, which were quickly being reinforced with rock and concrete. Among other things, the low-profile and use of local materials meant it would be harder to spot with satelite imaging.
"Please, tell me what happened," the Field Marshal asked.

So they told him. When they finished, Hohenzorn sent a communication to the Gordonopian and Falkasian forces with a message.

The message was recieved in garbled bits at the 27th's headquarters, as a more stable communications array had yet to be set up and all transmissions were being routed through the control tower's dish. Such an action was also risky in the fact that transmissions were going out the same way the controllers would be using to contact the pilots as they took off. However, with the skill of the 27th, it was of little problem.

======

The pilots, having been officially briefed and suited up, jogged to their MiGs on the tarmac. Each one was fully fueled and rearmed, the canopy pre-opened by the ground crew pending their arrival. Small jets of steam could be seen hovering over various parts of the plane, evident that they had just been serviced. The ground crew sprung into action as the pilots approached the aircraft, extending the cockpit ladder to allow the pilots access to the cockpit. One by one, each climbed in and glanced over his instruments, securing his helmet and breather on tightly before giving the all clear to the ground crew. Words of advice and simple encouragements were given as the ground crew made sure the pilots were comfortable and strapped in. Then, one by one, the all clear was given and they backed away. Ahissing sound came over the airfield as the canopies began to close, the hydralics dropping the covering slowly over the pilot's head. Steam escaped as they where clamped shut, hovering in the air as if it was exhalation form a massive beast. Then, one by one, the engines were fired up; each roaring to life before being followed by a louder and more powerful one. In the dying light of day, the flames shooting out of the MiG's turbines cast an eerie glow on the pavement below.

With a sudden lurch of speed, each aircraft slowly made their way towards the only runway on the premises, lining up in a perfectly coreographed formation prior to take off. A message was sent to the tower, which was responded to almost instantly. They were cleared. With a quick salute towards control and the main terminal, the first aircraft slammed the throttle to full and jolted down the runway. It was followed suit by the rest of the planes. As each one slowly left the ground and shot into the sky, the waning sun cast a pinkish and orange glare upon the grayish wings of the MiG's, creating yet another emotional effect on the pilots below.

OOC: Yeah. I don't have 7000 tanks either in my entire military, if that's what you're asking. Though I might have 6500.

ooc: ya, I've got 1000, but 7000???

ooc: I have 1,700 total, but the factories are farting out cheap models that can be assembled in the factory and driven straight to the battlefield.

OOC: Neither do I. I'm lucky to have close to 2000, and that's straining my economy as a whole.

ooc: well, i've got a lot more then that, but most aren't MBT's. I got about 3,000 MBT's. BTW, the US army has about 8,000 abrams.

ooc: Back on topic plz or we will be snowed in by a ooc blizzard.

OOC: I'l lbe gone for an hour. 24's on. Oh, and my fighters are going to go after that AWACS flight, so if you could delay that hook perhaps. I can try to ge ti nshort posts between commericals.

ooc: Back on topic plz or we will be snowed in by a ooc blizzard.

you got that fight going with me.

OOC: I'l lbe gone for an hour. 24's on. Oh, and my fighters are going to go after that AWACS flight, so if you could delay that hook perhaps. I can try to ge ti nshort posts between commericals.

ooc: I LOVE 24!!!!!!!!!!!! It's my favorit show EVER!!! :mp5:

OOC: Shit, Bill Buchanan just blew himself up.

ooc: TAKE THIS TO OOC THREAD GAWD!!!!!!!

OOC: Last OOC, Damn you Falk, you just spoiled that for me! Grrrr!

OOC: Wah, lol.

delete all the OOC's and lets get this back on track.
-----
The division finally made it to the mountain range, and the artillary battaries began to unload, while the tank and infantrymen had a chance to relax.
The Apaches would land in the dune's about a mile away from the mountain range, to refuel and have a quick inspection. Everything was quite rushed.
The attack would commence in an hour.

Finally, the jeep reached the camp.
"Stay here for a few minutes. I gotta go talk to the captain."

He walked into the command tent, and began talking to Captain Warren, the company commander.
"Sir, I captured the pilot, as well as her co-pilot."
"Good. What condition are they in."
"Well, physically, the co-pilot was pretty beat up, but he's stable for now. Mentally though, I'm worried about the pilot. She's totally brainwashed by Palpantines propaganda. She thinks we blitzkreig cities, killing all civilians in sight. Then we take prisoners and gas them!"
"My god. She actually believes it?"
"Yes. We haven't even taken any prisoners yet. We need to treat her well. After all, I'm assuming she's at least a non-com. If we treat her worse then we usually do, it'll just reinforce her beliefs. I want you to be her guard, so we don't get some bum from headquarters, who can't handle any other assignment."
"Yes sir."

He walked back out to the jeep, and told her to follow him to an abandoned building, a schoolhouse maybe, that they had decided to use in case there were any prisoners. It had a single-story grey building, with only one door leading to freedom. The other door, and all the windows, opened into a fenced area that had probably once been a playground. They had set up about a dozen beds inside, and it was pretty decent for a prison structure. He told Korman and one of the other privates to take the co-pilot to the medical tent.

She sat in the car when the soldier left, nervously twiddling her thumbs, checking Sams pulse every now and then.
He looked pitiful, and she flashed back to the cockpit.
everything was calm, the general had assured them that UAV had scanned the area, and it was clear of AA's, but he also told them to be on their guard, the enemy could move positions any minute.
Before the missile struck, they were calm, occasionally Rachel would give a quick order, but her voice was always indifferent. Sam and the other co-pilot were at both her sides, Sam was in charge of the radar and missile detection system, the other man, Pete, was in charge of the radio and other techinical details of the plane.
When the missile warning began blaring, Sam, a consript, had no idea what to do. He just stared at the screen in horror, before Rachel turned the plane in an abrubt turn and deployed counter-measures, the sudden turn caused him to fly out of his seat, and slam into Pete, who banged his head on the consol and went out cold.
That was when the missile struck, it slammed into the middle of the plane, and alarms began blaring all over the plane. Droning out the vulgur words Rachel was letting loose. She grabbed a parachute, and threw the other on at Sam and Pete, before running out of the cockpit to the door...
She shook her head, not wanting to remember more.
When the soldier came back, she looked up sharply. When he beckoned her, she opened the door, she hesitated, looking back at Sam, then followed.
He took her to what looked like an abandoned school. With steel in her voice she asked,
"Did you gas the children too?"

"What?!? Gas the... no, there is no way in hell we would ever do something like that. This place must have been abandoned for at least a couple months before we arrived. There were no children. We're not like that. Don't listen to his propaganda."

ooc: Whats a placel?

ic:
...Don't listen to his propaganda."
She suddenly lost her cool.
"Propoganda? He is only defending the nation! After those South Defesians bombed those towns on the border, killing all those innocent people! He retaliated to defend our peolpe now nations like yours are invading our ancient soil like your some kind of world police!"


Note: Shortly after the cruise missile strikes into the SD capital, Palpentine ordered a small bombing campaign on some towns on the ND side of the border, then had it filmed, copied, and shown on live TV and in propoganda stations, it was all blamed on the South. According to most Northern soldiers, SD struck first.
The planes that were part of the bombings were shot down while trying to return to base, this was also blamed on the south.

"South Defese bombed... Palpantine launched a cruise missile at South Defese. In fact, one of our companies almost got hit. My cousin was there. Palpantine almost killed him!!! South Defese never had time to do anything. Within hours of the missile, South Defese was practically knocked out. Palpantine is insane! He nuked your own nation, for god's sake. There was a couple of Fanboyist divisions on your own soil, and he nuked it. He nuked it!!! If that's not insane, tell me what is then."

Rachel was silent.
"Your...your lying."
She slumped against the wall, was silent for a few moments, the continued.
"We heard reports about the South Defesians having a few active missile silos...Command thought they would launch eventually. Palpentine would not nuke Northern land. Your lying, im not going to fall for your brainwashing. If your going to kill me, then kill me. But spare me your facist lies."

OOC: Is it alright if I join the character RP? One of my tanks got lost or something?

ooc: Just get into a plane crash like normal people!

"Why would I kill you? That would be both a breach of international law, and against my own morals. I'm not facist. And I am not lying. They had a couple of missile silos. but do you know how many times Palpantine has threatened nukes? Your leadership once threatened to nuke a small island because they couldn't have it. Your troops were still on the island. Palpantine is crazy. It's all propaganda, the South Defese attacks, the gas chambers, the blitzkreig, all lies. He did nuke your land, just because he couldn't drive the soldiers out with your troops. He's sent thousands upon thousands of men to their death in futile assaults on incredibly entrenched forces. He's crazy. No doubt about it."

OOC: Lol, but I didn't bring any planes. No air support, remember? I'll take that as a yes, shall I?

ooc: a tank getting lost? Wouldn't we just help you get back to your lines? Why would we keep you in a prison, if you're my ally?

ooc: maybe he was injured and was brought back to your camp for treatment?

OOC: Lost, deciding to just escort you back to base, report from there? You'd be alittle disoriented after a nuclear blast too.

ooc: Have a spy spying on his camp, itll be interesting to have a pilot, unstable consript, and a spy.
oh also make him not understand Defesian, so he can act as a comic relief charactor then get killed off like they always do. :p

Here's a thought. He's a liaison between the two military's, helping coordinate joint actions and stuff like that.

ooc: That sounds good, also Gordo respond to Rachel going into denial, the first stage of propoganda-debrainwashing, or death.
It fits with everything.
Drop your icecream cone? First denial, anger, sadness ect.
Its universal!

I think the lost tank crew is a little more likely to stumble across them or accidently return to the wrong camp, again, disoriented from the traumatic events they experienced.

ooo yes, have rachel witness what Palpentine is willing to do!
Have them come in camp, skin falling off and stuff, have Rachel discover this and undergo the cheesy "finding herself" phase like in the movies!

ooc: mind if I'm running the hospital. I figure I should probably get involved again.

OOC: Sounds good. But I gotta go for dinner now. Be back later.

"Hey look, I know this is hard on you. You've probably been hearing this sort of stuff your whole life. I would probably be doing the same if this happened to me. Well, actually, it kinda did on a smaller scale. When we decided to allow the Gordonopian Communists back in, at first I was in utter shock. I had been told how evil they were my whole life, though not by the government, but more by my friends and neighbors. Then I didn't want to believe it had even happened. When a Communist family moved into my neighborhood, I was so mad. I really hated them, but then I got to know their son, who was about my age. In fact, he's actually in the army now, and we're in the same division."

The MiG-29s accelerated rapidly from their take-off speed to Mach 2 as the sun continued to set against their backs. By the time they arrived at their sortie, it would ahve long since sank below the horizon. The trip was mostly uneventful, with the crew double and triple checking their equipment and instruments as dictated by instinct over and over again. A few pilots exchanged brief conversations over their headsets on secured, private channels, but other than that, all was quiet.

Against the blackened sky, the MiGs were all but undistinguishable, the turbine flames of their engines the only sign giving them away. However, it would have likely be mistaken for a star or some other heavenly body if merely glanced at. As the flight group approached the mountains and assumed Fanboy position, they pilots briefly glanced downward through their canopy and caught glimpses of a battle that was raging, or had raged below. Some fires still lingered, lighting up the night in a menagrie of oranges and golds, as well as reds as plumes of black. Near a few fires, corpses or sleeping soldiers could be seen. Normally they would have engaged such targets as ToOs (Targets of Opportunity), quickly lighting them up with a rapid burst from their nose cannons. However, this was an air support and interception mission, first to eliminate a detected AWACS flight encroaching upon Fanboy positions, but also to provide interception support for the Gordonopians below agaisnt the B-52s being used to pound them.

Locating their targets on RADAR, or at least the AWACS, the MiGs angled in directly above and behind their targets, allowing them the best possible angle of attack. Quickly switching to thermal, the pilots were able to locate the RADAR-deflecting F-22s due to the engine heat. Such information was rapidly shared over comms, and the group shifted formation into a wedge and picked their targets. Preparing for attack, all lights were switched off and missiles were armed. Still undetectable from their angle, even by the AWACS aircraft, the squadron lined up one last time before letting loose.

"Engage."

With a single word uttered by the flight lead, each of the 5 aircraft fired off 3 AMRAAM-7 (http://z10.invisionfree.com/Universal_Defense/index.php?showtopic=44) missiles at intervals of a single second, allowing ample enough time to avoid a shot of flares or unexpected reactionary movements from taking out the whole group. 3 missiles were directed at each F-22, with another 6 directed at the AWACS aircraft.

Having been caught by surprise and incredibly outgunned, there was little the North Defese flight could do.

She was silent for a minute, then stated simply;
"Sam and I grew up together, went to Flight Academy together, graduated together, flew together. His family lived in one of the towns that were bombed, he lost everything. So did I. It was the Southerners. All the newsmen say it was...The generals and drill instructers belive it...How could the Chanceller make a lie like that?"

"Propeganda. The South had practically no air force to begin with. There was no way they could have gotten past your nation's air force. In my opinion, two things happened. One, Palpantine ordered the bombings, then blamed South Defese. Two, there is a slight possibility that the South did do the bombings. But the only way that could have happened would be if Palpantine let them do it, and didn't even try to stop them."

Rachel lost her cool again.
"Thats bullshit!"

"Why? Why is it? Why can't you trust me? I can show you proof, if you want."

The AWAC was immeditly destroyed by the missiles, and the F-22's, with little time to respond, got missiles slamming into them. Only one fighter remained, who managed to pull up and 2 missile's overshot him, he gained altitude quickly,deploying countermeasures but the last missile slammed into the back of the plane, and it instantly exploded.
Back on the ground
The radar suddenly lost the AWAC.
"Shit, has it been hit?"
"Try to pull it up again!"
"Get me the Major!"
----
The General was pissed, they lost the AWAC and it didnt even make it to the lats waypoint.
"Alright, we attack early, get your men ready, we launch the assault in an hour. have the artillary fire off barrages, soften them up for us, then the Apaches will go in, tyry to take out the fonrtal resistance, then the armor will move in, arrowhead formation, tr yto break past the frontline, then wreck havok on the enemy."

"Why cant I trust you?" Rachel asked.
"Maybe becuse your the ENEMY!"

Dr. Joseph Malloy had just come out of surgery on a Fanboyist soldier who had been on the edge of the blast radius of the North Defesian nuke. He had been far enough to have survived the intense heat, but too close to escape lethal doses of radiation. He had been deployed with several other Takaram doctors and escorting soldiers. Most of his patients so far had been South Defesians, both civilian and military. He looked up just in time to see a helicopter coming in to drop off more wounded, and ran to go help unload them.

ooc: The nuke hit in the middile of a huge expanse of desert Fanboyist was crossing. And the remaining SD soldiers are holled up on the East coast.

ooc: it isn't unbelievable that they would have sent wounded back to SD, its the closest place they have allies. And those SD troops could have been injured in the initial attack.

OOC: Anybody against me bringing in the 4078th MASH, lol? I could use more supportive units. I could set up at my airbase. Turn the area into a staging area.

ooc: its already a dogpile. Either support me or I must decline a large scale landing D:
Small scale is ok though :p

ooc: he's already on our side though.

ic: "I know I'm your enemy, but look at it this way. When you shot at us, what did I do? I could have shot you on sight, but I decided to let you live. And then I gave you the freedom to operate on your friend. I should have waited and taken him straight to the doctor here. If I am like what Palpantine says I am, would I really do that?"

OOC: Besides, it was a lost tank crew that went to the wrong camp because they were disoriented by the blast. There's three more of them in the group.

IC:
Sergeant Franz Carius and Private First Class Peter Wohl stood outside the army hospital and immedietely approached Doctor Malloy as he exited the surgery.
"Lieutenant Bernstein, will he be all right?" asked Wohl anxiously.
"See, 'cause he's our commander and..." the Sergeant added anxiously.
A third Federal (Fanboyist) soldier joined them.
"We also need to report back to base whenever we get a chance," Private Josef Marks added.
Sergeant Carius looked wistfully at their scorched and scored tank, which they had dubbed "Marie-Lee," though the paint which had identified her as such was now mostly seared off along with some of the camo paint. Despite all the exterior damage, the tank was actually functioning quite well. It just didn't look so good.

She was silent, contemlpating what he was saying. Years of conditioning and propoganda was being peeled away, and she was finally seeing the truth.
"So...
" She began caustiously. "If your not going to kill us, or torture us, what is it you want?"

Off in the distance, four large clouds of fire and metal suddenly materialized as the missiles impacted what used to be the North Defese aircraft, turning them into dust almost instantly. The pilots checked over their instruments to confirm the kills, admist a quick celebration over their radio. All that remained on the small glowing green and black screen were the rest of the flight, and then nothingness.

Having confirmed their kills and diving their planes down to dodge out of the way of the clouds, the flight banked a hard right to rerout them in the same direction they had just come from, and putting them on a direct vector back to base. Re-engaging their pilot lights would still be risky, and would likely alert any enemy troops below of the hostile aircraft above. Sticking with experience, they would maintain a blackout until officially crossing back into friendly territory.

The pilots took one last look back at the dissolving clouds of metal scrap as they returned their turbines to afterburner and quickly accelerated back to Mach 2; jettung off towards home. The fire shooting out of their engines was the only sign that they had ever been there.

ooc: Hey fanboyist, maybe you find out about Sam (wounded ND pilot) and go batshit?

OOC: Batsheet? What?

OOC: ND, it's MASH. That's not an invasion, and if I was gonna do an invasion, it would be gradual. If I rushed a bunch of men in at once, I would ahve no means to supply them, and with the size of the forces already deployed, there would be no way to forage for food unless they were to eat corpses.

ooc: Oh right, thought ti said something else.
MASH away

OOC: ND, it's MASH. That's not an invasion, and if I was gonna do an invasion, it would be gradual. If I rushed a bunch of men in at once, I would ahve no means to supply them, and with the size of the forces already deployed, there would be no way to forage for food unless they were to eat corpses.

OOC: They'd go POSLEEN on them!

OOC: Pretty much.

Malloy looked at the Fanboyists solemnly.
"It's hard to say. He took a pretty big dose of radiation. He might make it, but that's all up to him now. You can go see him if you like. Just ask one of the nurses. Now, if you'll excuse me, I should go help unload these wounded."
With that, Malloy ran off to where the helicopter was unloading.

Sam was lying on a military cot, finally waking up from the effects of the tranquiliser. He heard the sounds of moaning around him, and panicked for a bit, before remembering what happened.
He groaned, wondering where Rachel was.
He looked down, and saw he was still in uniform, and the Gordo soldiers and medics around him.
Fear began tricking its way down his spine, he was certain that at any moment one of them would jam a needle in his neck, and he would fall asleep and never wake up...

Sergeant Carius led the way into the room, almost hesitently. He paused for a moment and tapped lightly on the side of the surgery.
"Hello, anyone here? We're this man's crewmates, may we come in? Sergeant Franz Carius, Federal Defesian Expeditionary Force," Franz explained to the nurses.

Sam became very thirsty, his throat began aching from the hour he spent in the desert. He called out for the nurse in Defesian.

A Takaram nurse walked over the door and opened it.
"Yes, you may come in. He's conscious, so you can go and see him. I'd ask you to take turns though, to minimize any stress."

She then hurried over to a bed where a man(ooc: Sam) was calling.
"Yes, what can I do for you?"

Sam asked her in Defesian, "I--I need some water." His voice was hoarse, and he paused for a coughing fit. "Please, some water..."

OOC: Just out of idle curiosity, what does Defesian sound like? Like which language is it most similar to?

IC:
As Carius, Wohl, and Marks entered the room, they heard a man (obviously in pain) speaking in Defesian. And Marks, foul-tempered loud mouth that he was, immedietly reacted.
"What the fuck is that?!"
Franz glared at Josef. "Private, calm down. He's injured, just like we all were. We just weren't as bad-off as everyone. Don't bother." Franz checked his left arm, where the khaki sleeve of his field uniform was torn at the elbow, and there were signs of heavy scarring on the forearm. He had long-since abandoned his cracked helmet, as it had been completely destroyed in the blast. For that matter, so had Marks. Only Wohl still had his desert sand-goggles and helmet still on him.
Sergeant-at-Arms Franz Carius was a man of medium build, with dirty-blond hair and dark hazel eyes that projected a "no-shit" attitude, and he seemed to be in his early to mid thirties. There were scars on his face, arms, and a particularly ropey one starting at the nape of his neck and running to the small of his back. He stood in a powerful stance, but clearly at ease in his surroundings. He was quite obviously a career soldier. In battle, he was reputed to have one of the nastiest tempers anywhere, not in keeping with his cool, no-nonsense demeanor outside of it. He was the tanks' gunner, and against any enemy that had earned his undying emnity, he took a slightly unhealthy glee in launching death at them.
PFC Peter Woll was a man of shorter, more wirey build, with jet black hair, and dark eyes. What he lacked in size was readily made up for with acute eyesight and reaction times, and an uncanny mechanical expertise. He functioned as the main gun's targeter. He rarely missed.
PFC Josef Marks was an all-around nasty guy. He had a horrible temper, had been promoted once for homicidal courage and demoted just as quickly for insubordination, and had numerous other black marks on his record of that nature. He used coarse language all the time, and had a slightly off-kilter sense of humor. His appearence matched, with striking green eyes, oily black hair, an hawk-like nose, and a tall and wiry build. He was gleeful of the fact that he drove several tons of death on treads. He served as the driver.

ooc: Russian accent with a hint of Japanese

The nurse walked over to a sink and ran a cup under it. She came back and handed it to him. "Now drink this slowly. Don't want to put much in you now at one time."
ooc: she can understand Defesian in case you didn't catch that.

"Thank you." He said horsley, before slowely drinking the water. When he was done, he asked, "Where am I? All I remember is being in the plane...Then alarms, an explosion..." he puased "Oh my God! Wheres Rachel!?!?" he shouted, before falling into a severe coughing fit.

She quickly handed him another cup of water.
"Don't worry, your in a Takaram medical facility in South Defese. And your friend was with the Gordonopians last time I heard. "

He drank the water deeply this time.
"What do you mean? What about Pete?"
He suddenly remembered what happened, then he allowed his head to fall back onto his pillow. Oblivious to everything around him, he didnt even notice the pain in his leg or chest.
It was all he could do to not burst into tears.

Meanwhile, Sergeant Carius was having a harder and harder time restraining Marks.
"Let me at that filthy Defesian!" Marks grunted.
"Shut up, Private. If you don't stop, I'll fucking knock you out!" Carius said tersely. "I'm dead serious. I'll do it."
"Aww, shut up, Sarge," Marks grumbled back, trying to force his way past the Sergeant. He didn't attempt it for long, as a fist connected with his jaw and he fell flat on his back, swearing. "What the fuck Sarge?!"
"I told you: stand down!"
"But that's a fucking Defesian. They fucking nuked us! For God's sake!"
"He's already gotten his! He's injured. Let's just go see the Lieutnant," Carius said simply. But Wohl had already passed them both on his way to Sam.

Peter walked up to Sam and the nurse attending to him. "May I have a word with him quickly, ma'am?" he asked calmly and quietly. Peter, unlike Marks, was not given to violence, and it showed in his demeanor.

She frowned.
"Only two of you came back. He must not have made it. I'm sorry."

She then turned to face the soldier behind her.
"Make it fast, and don't even think of provoking him or your going to need a bed in here too."

Sam heard the arguements, and the short fight, but was ignoring everything.
He heard a man talking to the nurse, and with great effort, he turned his head to see a man in Fanboyist uniform talking to the nurse.
...him quickly, ma'am?"

Peter, looking as unthreatening as possible, glanced at her and said simply "Don't worry. I've had enough violence for a lifetime. I'm not going to start any more."
He turned to the downed Defesian pilot. "Do you speak English? oder, Können Sie sprechen Deutsch? (Can you speak German?)"

"Do you speak English?" He understood that, the rest of the sentance was gibberish. Sam struggled a little to find the words.
"Yes I speak some, my...parents taught it to me."

"Good. I'd like to ask you a question or two, so we can understand the larger picture here. And by 'we', I mean me and my comrades in arms in the Fanboyist Defesian Expeditionary Force. Were you aware of the use of a nuclear strike against us?" He was slightly puzzeled: the accent sounded almost...Russisch? (Russian?)

Sam was confused.
"Yes, my wing received word that the South launched a SRBM...Then our plane was shot down..."

Those words puzzled Wohl even more. "The South? I'm positive it was the northern government. We are allied to the South, and we know for a fact they have no operable nuclear weapons at this point in time. So there is no way they could have fired on us, and we were trashing Northern Armoured Divisions, so it must have been your Chancellor. Are you sure?"

At the insult to the Chanceller, Sam lost his cool a little.
"The Chanceller would do no such thing! The Southern goverment started this war when they laid waste to those towns! They killed my fucking family!" He had a couging fit, before continuing. "Im sure it was the South, that was the last radio transmission we got before being...shot down...Now im here with metal in my chest, my best friends dead, and my captain is being held prisinor in a abandoned school!" He started muttering in Defesian.
"How dare he insult the chanceller, he has given us strength...United us against the South...

"Calm down! Calm down. I'm sorry this may be coming as a shock, but the South did not destroy those towns, not to our knowledge...we believe that the Chancellor staged the attacks that killed your family as propaganda so that the country would support his invasion of the south. It is understandable that you would believe such things: under less-kind regimes than that of Grimmeberger, we too were subjected to lies in this way. I am also quite sure that your captain is, while indeed being a prisoner, such as things are in war, quite safe at this point. I am given to understand she is with Gordonopians, and, as such things go, I'd rather be a prisoner of Gordonopia than numerous other countries."

He continued. "However, I am quite positive that the Chancellor did, in fact, order a nuclear strike agaisnt our forces: not only is he the only power in the region with the resources to have done so, he is also the only one with motive to have done so. Is there anything you could tell us that you have heard that can help us make sense of this?"

Sam was silent.
"I will tell you more..." He started, "Only if you make sure my captain is ok..."
He blanked out again, trying to obsorb what the Fanboyist soldier just told him. He lost his family, his friends, and it was all the chancellers fault.

It was early morning when control was finally contacted by the flight and informed that they were on approach, but it didn't take long before the whole base lit up. Pilots and ground crew began pouring out of their tents and lined the tarmac, awaiting the arrival of the victorious pilots.

They were kept waiting long. A grey speck appreared on the horizon, slowly growing larger into one aircraft, and then split off into 5 distinct shapes. On the ground, Rainy began counting.
"1....2......3..4.5! NO Casualties!! They're all there!!" He shouted, amid the wild and rambunckious cheers of the pilots!
As the aircraft approached the airfield, they made no attempt at landing and instead flew right over. A sonic boom resonanted across the land as they flew directly over the airfield in a celebratory fly-by, their engines roaring with an unfortold intensity and shaking the ground with enourmous power. Instinctively, many of the crew and pilots ducked in case the planes were too low. Then, upon completeing the fly-by, they circled around and reinstated their approach vector. One by one, the MiGs landed victoriously onto the runway, the moring sun shining off their polished grey wings as they taxied past the endless crowd of joyous and applauding pilots and ground crew. Upon parking and opening their canopies, each aircraft was mobbed; every pilot getting his own celebration from his friends and comrades below. No sooner had many climbed down, than beer was thrust into their hands and they were lifted of their feet. It was only a simple victory, yet any attack you could come away from with no friendly casualities was one worth of celebration. Most pilots hardly had enough time to power down their aircraft before becoming caught up in the revelry.

The party would go on for another hour or so, completely deplenting the beer supply for the next three months in the process.

======

Meanwhile, a lone radio operator sent out a message to the Fanboy and Gordonopian commands. Normally it would have been transmitted as was the usual method, with voice. However, the microphone had been knocked out by the fly over by the MiGs, and the 27th was waiting on retrieved a new one from one of the many airlifted supply crates holed up in the hangars. In the same encrypted "Morse Code," the message read as follows:

Warning;
Attack Immient;
Requesting Casualty Reports From Nuclear Blast;
Required To Dispatch Further Medical Support;
Requesting Sortie Targets;
Over.

it was almost after dawn when the artillary was geared up, and every single battary fired of a single shot at once. Then, they waited 2 seconds, then reloaded.
The shells raced through the air, heading right towards their intended target... The fanboyist camp.
With the enemy no doubt in confusion now, the artillary let loose with everything it had. Each one firing volley after volley. The Apaches lifted themselves over the mountain slope, and raced for the enemy entrencment, the tanks and APCs loaded with infantry racing right behind them.
The first major attack had begun.

Meanwhile
When the soldier left, Rachel began pacing the room. After doing this for awhile, she grew hungry.
She walked to the front door, and banged on it, hoping a guard was standing outside.
"Hey!" She shouted in Defesian. "What do I have to do to get some food?"

Sam was silent.
"I will tell you more..." He started, "Only if you make sure my captain is ok..."
He blanked out again, trying to obsorb what the Fanboyist soldier just told him. He lost his family, his friends, and it was all the chancellers fault.

"True, I can't really expect you to tell me more until you know that much..." after thinking for a moment, Peter Wohl made a personal decision. "I can't find out what happened to Captain...what was her name...? right at this time, but I will be on the look out for her, and when I find her, I'll tell her where you are and I'll inform you of her wherabouts as soon as possible. Do we have an agreement?" Peter held out his hand to shake, looked at it for a moment, and then stripped off his glove and reoffered it.

it was almost after dawn when the artillary was geared up, and every single battary fired of a single shot at once. Then, they waited 2 seconds, then reloaded.
The shells raced through the air, heading right towards their intended target... The fanboyist camp.
With the enemy no doubt in confusion now, the artillary let loose with everything it had. Each one firing volley after volley. The Apaches lifted themselves over the mountain slope, and raced for the enemy entrencment, the tanks and APCs loaded with infantry racing right behind them.
The first major attack had begun.

Field Marshal Hohenzorn had ducked for cover as the first shells started raining down. He immedietely began barking orders. "Barkley! get the SAM artillery taking out whatever may be coming at us! And howitzers answering that artillery! I want them ducking for cover!" He turned to Major Kurtzman and General Knispel. "How's the 44th looking?" He asked hurridly.

"Ready to teach these motherfuckers a lesson, sir!" Knispel barked.

"Good. Hold 'em off while I scramble the rest of the armour. You'll have the 41st, 47th, and 42nd out with you pronto, and the rest will be joining up ASAP. Might even get a few infantry. But most of 'em are going to be holding the line here. Got it?"

"Yessir."

"Good. Now go fuck 'em up!"

The SAM's quickly began firing salvos of rockets at the incoming gunships, in very, very high numbers. Resupply wasn't a problem here. The howitzers also began answering the enemy artillery, not trying so much to destroy the batteries (though that would always be a plus) but trying to simply disrupt their rate of fire by sending their gunners diving for cover. A few howitzers even began flinging a few shells towards the incoming APCs. However, the most damage to the APC's was done by RPG's and machinegun fire from the bunker-and-trench system of the Fanboyist HQ. And the first of the incoming tanks were about to encounter a world of hurt: the armour of the 44th Armoured Division was back, and they were pissed.

OOC: Last post for a little bit. back for a little longer in about a half hour.

She was silent, contemlpating what he was saying. Years of conditioning and propoganda was being peeled away, and she was finally seeing the truth.
"So...
" She began caustiously. "If your not going to kill us, or torture us, what is it you want?"

"We invaded to protect the South. Well, that and to finally end Palpantine's regime. See, our nation has been at war with yours twice, almost three times now. I fought in both. The first was on a small island, were your government came and said they had owned it under the support of the natives, while silmultaniously abusing them. I fought there, and they actually threatened to nuke the island if it was clear they wouldn't win. It's really sad because they still had their guys on it. Luckily it didn't come to that.
We've also had pretty friendly relations with the South, and it really made us mad when they launched missiles at a city that had some of our men who were visiting. We almost lost a company as well as a Major General.
I guess the real reason we invaded is to protect the South. I remember when Palpantine installed a puppet government here. It was really bad. A lot of innocent people died, and the puppet government wouldn't do anything about it.
We never wanted to torture anyone, and we've only killed people because, well, it's a war. As far as I know, our nation has one of the best records when it comes to treatment of POW's."

"Food? What would you like? All we have right now are rations. We got A-rations and B-rations. The A's got sandwiches, crackers with peanut butter, some fresh fruit, and a drink (we got water). A b's got some kind of meat (I think it's beef), fruit, i think a candy bar, some bread (don't know what kind, just know that I don't like it), and some coffee mix. Go ahead and pick one, we don't really have anything else."

"True, I can't really expect you to tell me more until you know that much..." after thinking for a moment, Peter Wohl made a personal decision. "I can't find out what happened to Captain...what was her name...? right at this time, but I will be on the look out for her, and when I find her, I'll tell her where you are and I'll inform you of her wherabouts as soon as possible. Do we have an agreement?" Peter held out his hand to shake, looked at it for a moment, and then stripped off his glove and reoffered it.


He took his hand, and shook it firmly.
"Rachel, her names Rachel." He said, before passing out.
--------------
The APC's were in a world of hurt, they already lost 6, and the attack barely started. They began to offload the infantry, who took cover in the nearby sand hills, where they unpacked the motars and began firing the shells into the frontal defences.
The tanks were still pushing foward, 8 of them were lost, 2 of them lost their treads, they began to open fire. All 992 tanks fired shell after shell, while the Apaches fired stingers at the enemy armor, foward mounted guns opening fire on the enemy infantry, 8 Apaches fell from the skies, and the division was calling in for air support.

Back at a occupied airfield in SD territory, 40 miles from the fight, 12 Su-30 MKI's were loading up with air-to-ground missiles, in an attempt to stem the tide of the enemy armor.

Rachel thought for a moment, then said "A-rations, please." She was about to turn around, when she suddenly thought of an idea.
"And could you do me a favor? My co-pilot was admitted to the med-tent..His names Sam...Can you see how he is please?"

"No problem. I'll look into it."
Walker told Korman to look into Sam, while he sent another guard to get the food. When the food arrived, he opened the door, and brought it in.
"It looks like a Roast Beef sandwich, the crackers, and and orange. I hope that's okay."

ooc: Do the crackers have cheese? Cheese is illegal in Defese. (please dont ask why. PLEASE DONT ASK WHY!!!)

ooc: no... it's just peanut butter.

ooc: D'aw.

Ic:
She accepted the rations. "Thank you." She said, meaning it.
She took the food, sad down in a corner, back against the wall, and began eating.
She inspected the orange for a bit, since they dont grow naturally in Defese, and the goverment isnt big on importing food, so she finally asked:
"Umm...Ive never seen this kind of fruit before...How do I eat it? Do I peel it? Just dig right in?"

"Ya, you peel it. The fruit's inside. It's kinda a little citrusy, if you know what I mean."

OOC: Anybody gonna respond to my message? I can't come to help if I don't know what's going on. Or are you getting to it?

"Oh" She said, feeling ashamed. She awkardly began peeling it, growing frustrated when the skin only came off in little bits.
"Ill starve before I finish this..." She muttered angrily. Placing it down, she turned her attention to the crackers. She inhaled those like air, pausing only to take the occasinial drink of water, to keep the penut butter from choking her.

ooc: this is to ur message falk

ic:
"Attention falkasian forces. We have no casualties currently, but we have some reports that disoriented survivors are in the area. Should we find any, we'll report them to you."

ooc: A quarter of my ground troops, and a good 70% of my tanks are busy with Fanboyists. Im getting to it!

A message was sent in reply to the Gordonopian one. Having effectively repalced the burnt out microphone with a new one, the transmission was sent normally.

ENCRYPTED
Good, we'll be waiting for them. The 4078th MASH is flying in from the Falkasian mainland to tend to any heavily wounded casualities or overflow you can't handle at the front. We're set up in a pretty secluded area, so they should be relatively safe back here.

When Rachel was finished with the rations, she finally turned her attention to the orange. She started the assault by using her nails to peel off the skin from the top down, the orange retaliated by only coming off in little bits.
She retreated, trying to decide another form of attack.
The second wave consisted of her using all 5 of her fingurs to tear off the peels in the center, the orange launched a counter-attack by squirting juice into her eye.
Swearing incoherently, she dropped the evil orange to rub her eye, which was burning like a library in hell.
When she was able to open her eye without it watering, she finally decided to end the battle. She picked it up, threw it against the wall, and yelled out "NO WONDER NO ONE IMPORTS THESE DAMN THINGS!!"
The orange splattered on the wall, then slid down on the ground. Defeated. But to Rachel it still seemed like it was laughing at her.
She swore.

"True, I can't really expect you to tell me more until you know that much..." after thinking for a moment, Peter Wohl made a personal decision. "I can't find out what happened to Captain...what was her name...? right at this time, but I will be on the look out for her, and when I find her, I'll tell her where you are and I'll inform you of her wherabouts as soon as possible. Do we have an agreement?" Peter held out his hand to shake, looked at it for a moment, and then stripped off his glove and reoffered it.


He took his hand, and shook it firmly.
"Rachel, her names Rachel." He said, before passing out.
--------------
The APC's were in a world of hurt, they already lost 6, and the attack barely started. They began to offload the infantry, who took cover in the nearby sand hills, where they unpacked the motars and began firing the shells into the frontal defences.
The tanks were still pushing foward, 8 of them were lost, 2 of them lost their treads, they began to open fire. All 992 tanks fired shell after shell, while the Apaches fired stingers at the enemy armor, foward mounted guns opening fire on the enemy infantry, 8 Apaches fell from the skies, and the division was calling in for air support.

Back at a occupied airfield in SD territory, 40 miles from the fight, 12 Su-30 MKI's were loading up with air-to-ground missiles, in an attempt to stem the tide of the enemy armor.

Carius looked at Wohl funnily. "You didn't hurt him, did you? He looks to be out cold now."
Wohl shook his head. "No, but the fact that the Chancellor is a crazy S.O.B. seemed to come as a total shock to him. I agreed to look for his Captain, if he would tell us more of what he knows."
Carius snorted. "Stoic, he's not. Well, then, I just got news that base is being attacked. We probably can't get back in time, and I doubt one tank is going to make the difference, so we're going to wait a little bit. This may be the best place for us." So they waited.

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

Hohenzorn had pulled up the channel to the Gordonopian and Falkasian forces.

"Hello, we're under attack. Can we get a little air support please? Thanks" as he spoke with them, and the Major Generals planned their unit's movements.

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

Major Kurtzman in his Valkyrie tank "Joanna" (named for the girlfriend he left behind) directed the action of the 2nd Armoured Battalion, 44th Division. So far, it was extremely lopsided. There was no way for the Defesians to compete with the M-21A1's advanced armoring, so tank to tank it was quite unfair. The stinger missiles weren't making too much of a difference, though they were very annoying. He looked back from his commander's slot at the 1st Battalion that had just formed up to be deployed. They were en haie, or in a line. That suited him just fine. As the 2nd Battalion began dropping back, he spoke to his commanders, gunners, driviers, and spotters over the tactical net.

"Gents, these are the same men that tried to give us the Bomb. What do you think?"

"Fucking pathetic, sir," a tank commander, who he recognized as Captain Thokoly, replied emphatically.

"Exactly what I was thinking," another replied.

"Good," Kurtzman said then. "Well, then, anti-armour. The nasty ones. A little depleted something. Ready?" There were sounds of auto-loaders at work, and the commanders sounded off "Ready." He grimaced at how few there were compared to before deployment. 84 tanks. They had had 126 before in the division. The enemy was going to pay in blood for the ones that hadn't made it back. Kurtzman looked with contempt at the approaching enemy tanks.

"Light the fuckers up," he spat.

OOC: I'm off.

"Having a little trouble? Need any help? If you want, I could peel it. It's pretty hard when you first try."

The radioman responded:
ENCRYPTED
Already done.

Rachel looked at the guard, then at the slimy mashed up fruit on the wall.
"I think I killed it."

fanboyist, 50 artillary things are firing slugs at you, motar teams, apaches, and your only being scratched. whats it going to take to counter your tanks?

"Ah. Here, have this one. My ration had an extra (I guess it's my lucky day). I think I might have gotten Korman's. His didn't even have one." he chuckled to himself a bit. He peeled the orange, then offered it to her.

She accepted it, thanking him.
After inspecting it a bit, then bit into it.
The sourness made her wince, but she grew used to it after a couple bites. It was suprisingly good.
"Why dosent anyone import these!?"

"Who knows. I guess it's expensive to import fruits. I dunno."

He left the room, and then went back to his post.

fanboyist, 50 artillary things are firing slugs at you, motar teams, apaches, and your only being scratched. whats it going to take to counter your tanks?

OOC: Artillery and Mortars are inaccurate, and the Apaches only have so many missiles onboard. It is possible, with some environmental help, to essentially "dodge" a Hellfire. Sometimes the plume of dirt a tank kicks up contains metal fragments, which can shine in the sun an attract a missile away from the lock on the vehicle.

Rachel sighed, and sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall. She sat like that for a few minutes, not moving, then decided to get some sleep. She looked around for something that would qualify as a mattress, or at least a clean floor. Seeing nothing, she sighed again and just layed on the floor against the wall farthest from the door, facing the entrance, and layed on her side, her arms folded and acting as a improvised pillow.
She closed her eyes, and tried to sleep...

The air support request was quickly passed on from the radio operator to Rainy, who in turn reviewed it an approved it for action. Leaving the radio tent, he waved over a few nearby pilots who he had put on standby for action. He had long been antitcipating a move such as this by North Defese, and had already ordered that the aricraft be refueled and rearmed by the time he finished his briefing.

Taking the men once more inside the terminal and further down the hall into the briefing room, he set himself up infront of the rows of chairs. He made a few marks on the charts, updating their intel of enemy and friendly positions, both on the front and behind it. He paced back and forth in the front as he waited for the pilots to be seated, and the stragglers to make their way inside. Once he was satisfied, he stopped immediately in front of the chairs and directed his eyes over the onlooking pilots. Grabbing his pointer, he hovered it over thew current battlefield and began to talk in his typical straight-to-the-point nature.
"All right guys, simple CAS Mission today. The Fanboy and Gordonopian positions have recently come under heavy assault by North Defese forces. Although it is not clear it this time, our sources indicate that it is a single prong assault, with all forces massing at these areas."
He moved the pointer of a few locations.
"We have also recieved intel of a nearby ND airfield, as well as incoming fighter/bomber aircraft. It is unknown at this time whether they're on their way to provide ground support, or simply there to act as interceptors. The former is most likely. That's why we're going up with a two-prong plan. First, Flight Alpha will interdict into the area and help secure it, before Flight Bravo; the F-111s will come in and bomb the North Defese positions. If all goes well, we should be able to come back relatively unscathed. Any questions?"

A unamious "No Sir" bellowed out from the room as the pilots got up and began to file out, grabbing their flight helmets along the way.

The 12 Su-30 MKI's's were launching from the airfield, they were to meet up with 3 F-22 Rapters who would provide anti-air cover. They lifted off, and moved towards the first waypoint to meet up with the escorts.

The pilots left the breifing room and the terminal, dashing across the runway and towards their planes on the other side of the airfield. As time was on the utmost urgency, no second could be spared for unneed celebration or send off. In the high light of midday, the pilots climbed into their warbirds, the MiGs and F-111s, and prepared to launch themselves into the sky. One by one, helmets and breathers were clamped on as the ground crew made final preparations. Each MiG was armed with a standard Air Superiority compliment of AMRAAM-7s, of which were capable of taking out helicopters at low altitudes as well as aircraft. The F-111s were more heavily loaded down, each containing 20 bombs packed full of air clusterettes designed to take out soft targets and vehicles below. They also possessed an ESM suite, which could be used not only to prevent missile lock-ons, but also to disable RADAR and SAM batteries below.

As the aircraft fired up their engines and taxied off to the runway, each pilot was given a full salute by his ground crew. It was returned full-heartedly. Permission to take-off was granted even before the flight arrived at the runway, so it was a simply act of turning and gunning the engines. There was no setting sun this time to set the mood, just a hostile sun high above in the air, keeping the pilots company as they lept off earth and into the deep blue horizon.

OOC: I'm off for the night in a bit. Getting sleepy.

The Su-30 MKI's met up with the F-22's over a small moutain range. They gave each other short greetings, then they increased speed to moch-1, hoping to finish the assault as fast as they could.

ooc: me too, night

OOC: Artillery and Mortars are inaccurate, and the Apaches only have so many missiles onboard. It is possible, with some environmental help, to essentially "dodge" a Hellfire. Sometimes the plume of dirt a tank kicks up contains metal fragments, which can shine in the sun an attract a missile away from the lock on the vehicle.

OOC: Besides that, you can bet that my infantry are taking casualties, my artillery to a lesser extent, and when more tanks start coming out, they will too, undoubtedly. The 44th is just very, very good. And God is on their side. How else would they survive a nuclear blast?

ooc: well you have 126 tanks vs 900ish. Thats like 7 tanks for each of yours while still having some left over.
Its impossible to not take heavy losses D:
btw, is it possible for my Apaches to target ammo supplies or fuel trucks?
IC:
---------
Rachel woke up, her head hurting from laying on the floor. She groaned and tried t ostand up, she was stiff all over. She looked out a window, the sun was just setting. She watched the view for awhile before she relized something.
She had to pee.
She walked up to the front door and banged on it. yelling "Hey! I need to pee!"

Sergent Walker had just been summoned to the captain's command tent.
"We just captured a small patrol. I need you to escort them to the prison. And set up some beds in there to. I'll also give you another guard. Now that we have about 5 prisoners, one guard just won't do the trick."
"Yes sir."

As Walker was bringing the beds to the building, he heard a banging and Rachel's words. He opened the door, and told her that they had some new prisoners and that they were bringing beds (cots) to the prison before letting her out.

Rachel stared at him.
"But I need to pee!"
She was trying her hardest not to hop up and down on her feet, praying he wouldent say "pick a corner"

"Well, go ahead. Next time, feel free to go on out of the side door. That fenced off area was probably a playground, and for now we're keeping it unlocked. It can probably be like a rec. area."

ooc: well you have 126 tanks vs 900ish. Thats like 7 tanks for each of yours while still having some left over.
Its impossible to not take heavy losses D:
btw, is it possible for my Apaches to target ammo supplies or fuel trucks?


OOC: A) A Valkyrie, upgraded (which these are) will withstand a few hits from anti-armour rounds that you would be using. Only Lyras has anything better. And you aren't Lyras. And no way all your tanks' shots will hit. Not all of mine do. And there's more targets for my guys, and if you deploy too many of your own forces, they just get in each other's way. Easy targets for my guys, harder ones (cause you outnumber me by so much) for yours.

Actually, the 44th has about 84 left. The 47th has 89. The 41st has 122. The 45th, which is joining the 44th and 47th at the front of the defense, has 126. The ones deployed at the moment number about 299 tanks at the moment. The 41st will be coming out soon, as will the 42nd and 43rd. Another 252 tanks there. Evens the odds out a bit: 551 superior tanks to 900-ish decent tanks. That's not even deploying (which I will a little later) the 48th and 46th (an additional 252 tanks, as they, like the 42nd, 43rd, and at the moment the 45th, are all at full strength with 126 each. Total, with all divisions deployed, thats 929 superior tanks. So basically, in under an NS hour (which is like, one post), your tanks will not only be facing superior counterparts, but they might just be outnumbered. And that ignores a proper (i.e. mine) armoured division's attached carabiners. Of which there are 20,000 plus, per division (about 5,000 will be advancing, the rest are being used to man the defenses). In short, not only is my kit better, I outnumber you.

ooc: Is he implying that she "goes" outside?

ooc fanboyist: OMG D: D: D: D: D: D:
----
The over-eager General knew he made the wrong choice. His men were getting slaughtered. He decided to hit where he could then retreat.
----
The Apaches began targeting the fuel trucks and ammo dumps, trying to take out the enemies supplies to slow them down as much as they could.
8 Apaches went down, and 7 more tanks were lost.
The general ordered the artillary to increase its barrage, targeting the enemy camp behind the defending tanks.
The Abrahams were taking a beating, but were fighting back hard.
They began to split, trying to surround the enemy, firing volley after volley.
Meanwhile
Sam woke up again to the sounds of moaning, but this time it was quieter. He lifted his head to look around, wondering what happened while he was out.

ooc: let's just say there was be an outhouse, since it was a school.

ooc: Fine

IC:
Once she was done at the outhouse, she went back inside to see who the new prisiners were, hoping it was some Defesians that she could talk to.

ooc: who else would it be?

ooc fanboyist: OMG D: D: D: D: D: D:
----
The Apaches began targeting the fuel trucks and ammo dumps, trying to take out the enemies supplies to slow them down as much as they could.
8 Apaches went down, and 7 more tanks were lost.
The general ordered the artillary to increase its barrage, targeting the enemy camp behind the defending tanks.
The Abrahams were taking a beating, but were fighting back hard.
They began to split, trying to surround the enemy, firing volley after volley.

OOC: Did you miss the part where my HQ had been constructed into a series of bunkers/foxholes and trenches? I don't leave fuel and ammo lying around, you know, and I don't label where it is in nice big signs so the enemy can target it. How can your guys know where my fuel and ammo is? And BTW, get ready for stuff like this: other people get even more pissy about stuff like this than I do.

Kurtzman saw the enemy attempting to outflank his men. They had lost a few tanks at this point, and he knew they couldn't keep the enemy, who outnumbered his battalions, from out flanking him, and hell, the 47th and 45th as well.

But the enemy didn't expect the 48th to come and hit their flanking forces in the ass, now, did they? Or the 46th on the other side? They did now, as the armoured fist hit them where they least expected.

The 12 Su-30 MKI's where nearing the battle, and began the laser targeting system.
They were ordered to target the enemy artillary, in an attempt to ease the pressure on the friendly battaries.
The laser's locked on target, and they prepared to fire there ATSM's...

Dr. Malloy had just noticed Sam waking up and called over the Defesian-speaking nurse.
"How are you feeling. Any pain?"

Sam heared the doctor talk to the Nurse, then the nurse asked if he was feeling any pain.
" I think it was the morphine I was given before I got here...becuse I cant feel my right leg (one with shrapnel) anymore...What else did you give me doc?"


ooc: Shrapenel hit his knee, tearing it up along with a bunch of nerve connections.

Malloy looked at him for a moment, and nodded.
"Yes, you did have quite a bit of shrapnel in you, but I think we took care of it all. Anything we can get you? Within reason, of course."

The combat flight screamed towards the battlefield, a smoke cloud coming off of them as the acelerated and went supersonic to reach thair destination sooner. The fire shooting out of their turbines left trails in the sky, and echoed off the ground below. The sun, still high up in the noon sky, shone off the tops of their wings, whilst providing some cover as they approached their sortie location. Of the aircraft in the air, first to arrive on scene would be the MiGs to clear out any aerial resistance posing a threat to the other flights. Soon to follow would be the F-111s with their powerful munitions and ESM suites.

Glancing out over the nose, the lead pilot located the current battlefield, evident by near endless plumes of smoke and flashes of red as fires burned below. Of in the distance, just barely audible, wa sthe faint and thundering sound of firing artillery. As the took a quick high-altitude fly-over over the battlefield below, the saw numerous engagements going on below. Tanks, tiny; insignificant speaks form their altitude, facing off against other tanks. Infantry barely depictable from the surronding area faced off against other troops, each taking casulaties before retreating. Giant plumes of dirt and smoke erupted into the air as artillery shells landed and veered off course. It was chaotic, and yet high above in the realm of angels, the pilots were quite detached.

Circling back around once more, the aircraft lowered their altitude and began locating and claiming their targets. Of first priority was the flight of SU-30s and any fighter escorts they may have brought. It was a simple matter, requiring the pilots to locate any fast-moving aerial contacts on their RADAR, then verify any stealthed aircraft with thermal and visual scans. It took only a brief moment before the green and black screens lit up with tangos, and the fighters began angling in for attack.

With a brief salute from the flight lead, three MiGs angled off from the main group and positioned themselves above and to the right of the enemy squadron. It was quite easy to slip past them, as the enemy pilots were more than likely focusing completely on their ground targets, and the fact that the MiGs had used a few low-lying clouds to conceal their movement. Their position was only revealed the moment they materialized out of the clouds, although by that time it was far too late.

Each MiG targetted one of the F-22s, firing off all four of their AMRAAM-7s in quick succession. Each was spaced with a single second in between, eliminating the chances that countermeasures or quick movements would throw the missiles off course. As the missiles dropped out of their lodging underneath the aircraft's wing and streaked across the sky in a a blur of red and orange, the remaining flight of MiGs came in from a side angle in wedge formation, locking onto the Sukhois and firing off two AMRAAM-7 missiles at each.

Having likely been completely focused upon their ground targets and caught by surprise, the SU-30 pilots would have little chance to respond before they were pulverized.

He thought for a moment, then told the docter.
"I want to speak with my captain please."
"And some water"

The F-22's were caught completly off guard, exploding into a hellish fireball. The Su-30 MKI's had just dropped their payload, and immediatly raised altitude while deploying counterflares. The remaining 22 scattered into a seemingly random pattern, but was acually carefully planned. The remaining 22 targeted a single enemy fighter, firing off 3 AMRAAMs in quick succession. Then he broke off, preparing for a counter-attack while the Su-30's scrambled and deployed countermeasures.

OOC: North Defese, you know that the other two F-22s would have had 3 quick reacting missiles following them, and would have been hit without a doubt, right? Also, you know you don't ahve access to my AMRAAM-7s right? They're a custom design I made. However, if you're using the normal AMRAAMS that US military uses, then by all means.

<Four hundred miles from the Fanboy/ND ground battle, aboard B-1 Red One>

"Red One to All, Red One to All. NIRTSATs have confirmed large numbers of Fanboyist Valkyrie tanks engaging a friendly force of North Defesean Abrams. Stand by for a full speed combat run, escorts, take point, get ready to punch us a whole. Sensor coverage from the Navy has indicated a group of advanced stealthy aircraft in region, so we'll go in behind a wave of Screamers. Ready Screamers on my order. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, *pause*, four, three, two, one, Screamers away."

Each of the twelve flight leaders launched four converted cruise missiles from their forward bomb bays. The missiles themselve were small, streamlined affairs, difficult to detect on radar. Once they accelerated away from the bomber force, they split into two seperate groups. One flew north of the bomber's flight path, the other group to the south.

Thirty seconds after launch, the Screamers earned their name, Still outside visible and infra-red range of the enemy, they began emitting random bursts of reflected radar emissions, sending false radar returns back to any hostile search radars, giving the impression of two large airborne groups attacking from completely different directions to the main group.

Meanwhile, the escorting F-30's took up an arrowhead formation ahead of the bombers, relying on sensors information from the orbitting NIRTSATs to keep track of incoming enemy forces. It wouldn't be long now before the bombers were in strike range.

Malloy sighed.
"I'll see what I can do."
He walked out and called up the Gordonopian HQ.

WAIT WAIT WAIT misread your an ally lolz/

ooc: They were normal american AMRAAMS

<Four hundred miles from the Fanboy/ND ground battle, aboard B-1 Red One>

"Red One to All, Red One to All. NIRTSATs have confirmed large numbers of Fanboyist Valkyrie tanks engaging a friendly force of North Defesean Abrams. Stand by for a full speed combat run, escorts, take point, get ready to punch us a whole. Sensor coverage from the Navy has indicated a group of advanced stealthy aircraft in region, so we'll go in behind a wave of Screamers. Ready Screamers on my order. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, *pause*, four, three, two, one, Screamers away."

Each of the twelve flight leaders launched four converted cruise missiles from their forward bomb bays. The missiles themselve were small, streamlined affairs, difficult to detect on radar. Once they accelerated away from the bomber force, they split into two seperate groups. One flew north of the bomber's flight path, the other group to the south.

Thirty seconds after launch, the Screamers earned their name, Still outside visible and infra-red range of the enemy, they began emitting random bursts of reflected radar emissions, sending false radar returns back to any hostile search radars, giving the impression of two large airborne groups attacking from completely different directions to the main group.

Meanwhile, the escorting F-30's took up an arrowhead formation ahead of the bombers, relying on sensors information from the orbitting NIRTSATs to keep track of incoming enemy forces. It wouldn't be long now before the bombers were in strike range.

OOC: Alright, seriously, why does everyone's airforce insist on targeting the one person with no airforce present? (Cause I hate RPing air combat)

IC:
At that point, though, the FDEF didn't particularly care that an undeclared combatant was about to underhandedly attack them out of nowhere, because they were too busy mauling the enemy's armor, which, in Major Kurtzman's expert opinion, was absolute shit. The stingers had been irritating and had taken out a few tanks, true, but the only real threat the enemy posed to them was the fact that they had outnumbered them 3-1 in armor, and now that that advantage was gone, it was a pretty one-sided fight. The attack copter's seemed busy at the moment trying to stop the murderous SAM fire against them, and the howitzers were engaged in an artillery duel wiht the enemy's guns, though the anti-tank missiles fired at the artillery were causing a slight disruption (simply because there were a bunch more howitzers, not from lack of effect). Beyond that, the entrenched infantry were using RPG's, machine guns, grenade launchers, and anti-tank rifles to butt-rape anyone dumb enough to get close enough. Interlocking zones of fire would make it near-suicide for anyone patently insane enough to attempt an infantry assault, and APC's would merely mean the demolition boys got to have more fun with their weapons than the machine gunners. No biggie.

ooc: You forgot my fighter/bombers taking out 12 (i hope) of your artillary guns.

OOC: Ok North. Also, please adjust your casualties to match the engagment. Loosing a single F-22 out of three too a surprise attack, with three planes each firing three missiles at each F-22 is complete ludacrious. Also, what about the SU-30s and the flank attack? If you plan on making a post detailing such casualties, then please tell me.

Also, to McLeod. Just so you know, my bombers are still a ways out. Wouldn't want you to have your planes show up into the engagement only to realize my bombers weren't there.

And Fanboyist, I'm your ally, lol! For now at least....

OOC: Oh, I thought you were RPing them OTW. I didn't realize they had arrived. Have adjusted it. Did you adjust attacking the (hidden) fuel and ammo dumps?

OOC: Ok North. Also, please adjust your casualties to match the engagment. Loosing a single F-22 out of three too a surprise attack, with three planes each firing three missiles at each F-22 is complete ludacrious. Also, what about the SU-30s and the flank attack? If you plan on making a post detailing such casualties, then please tell me.

Also, to McLeod. Just so you know, my bombers are still a ways out. Wouldn't want you to have your planes show up into the engagement only to realize my bombers weren't there.

And Fanboyist, I'm your ally, lol! For now at least....


Fixed it

OOC: Merci mon ami.

OOC: Cause that's where a guardian angel is needed Fanboy. Someone's gotta stop you mauling him. Can anyone else say multiple top-armor piercing sub-munitions?

<B-1 Red One, three hundred miles away>

The bomber wing had now accelerated up to combat speed, travellnig at very nearly Mach 2. They were going to simply punch their way in, launch, and high-tail out. Strike hard, strike fast, leave first. Each bomber carried four rotary launchers, each with six mixed munition cruise missiles, as well as limited anti-air defense weaponry. But it was the commander of Red One, the Wing Commander no less, who carried the real surprise for the enemy. A modified elongated cruise missile that filled half of one giant bay completely, it carried a full load of easily dispersable fuel droplets and a single thermite ignition source. It was, essentially, a guided fuel-air explosive. That would seriously ruin anyones day.

Wings tucked in, mission adaptive control surfaces streamlined to allow for the least drag, the bombers closed in.

OOC: Also, to McLeod. Just so you know, my bombers are still a ways out. Wouldn't want you to have your planes show up into the engagement only to realize my bombers weren't there.

And Fanboyist, I'm your ally, lol! For now at least....

OOC: 'Twas directed at McLeod and ND. All airstrikes lead to Fanboyists...lolz

OOC: Cause that's where a guardian angel is needed Fanboy. Someone's gotta stop you mauling him. Can anyone else say multiple top-armor piercing sub-munitions?

OOC: Yes, but your armor sort of tends to get mauled if you send it against superior tanks that outnumber you. Can anyone else say "self-inflicted injury?"

You're also going to need to refresh me on how fuel-air explosive works so I can RP the effects properly. And this had better not destroy all my tanks. (Not that it matters if I want it to or not).

OOC: Its essentially a large cloud of fuel spread over an area then detonated. Massive damage against lightly-armoured vechiles, infantry, buildings, and vegetation. Probably won't kill tanks, especially not your advanced armor, but this one will give a combustion area about four-hundred feet wide and about half a mile long before it detonates.

Ooh, and as a side note, armour definately gets mauled without air-support. Its hellishly hard to hit an aircraft moving at nearly a thousand smiles-an hour ten thousand feet up with a tank shell, and most easily portable SAM systems don't have the range to protect you unless your enemy is stupid enough to use gravity weapons. Stand-off missiles will rip you apart if you can't stop them being launched.

IC:

<Red One, two hundred miles away>

"All units, two minutes to launch. From this point, maintain radio silence, assign your targets, and launch when scheduled. God guide your hands."

ooc: basically, your infantry is screwed

Palpentine was combing the hair of another decapitated head, when his aide walked inside, freezing at the site of the head.
"S-s-s-sir!" He stammered.
The Chanceller sighed, then told the aide "I told you to call me Your Highness. Or ill cut out your tongue so you cant speak."
"Yes your highness..." The aide managed to choke out.
"Weve detected Mclead03 forces off the coast..."
"Then eliminate them..."
"I think they are on our side.."
"Oh, then let them inside. Tell them to wipe their feet."
"What?"
"Wait a minute, you dont want them to wipe their feet do you? You filthy person! Leave my office now!!"
The aide ran out of the room, failing to notice he just wet himself.

ooc: Palpetine is so much fun. He's insane and funny at the same time.

As the missiles continued to streak towards their targets and the North Defese aircraft began to break off, the fighters began to follow in pursuit. The engagement was harldy a contest, as the MiGs far outperformed not only tyheir SU-30 cousins, but their F-22 Raptor counterparts as well. Of the original engagment, the three fighter aircraft easily outmaneuvered the AMRAAMs, the F-22 pilot having fired them off with little time to aim. With some evasive maneuvers, each flew helplessly to the side as the aircraft deked left and then right, locking back on to the F-22 and firing off the remaining three missiles between them.

Meanwhile, the remaining aircraft of the flight locked back onto the frenzied SU-30s, literally running circles around them as the MiGs rotated back in for attack. It was hardly a contest, as the MiGs closed the range within seconds and fired off a few missiles at the erratic Sukhois.

Meanwhile, the flight lead detected a gigantic RADAR signature on his screen. He was genuinely alarmed at first, thinking that somehow a massive ND force had managed to penetrate the Fanboy lines. It tokk only a moment however, for him to come to his senses and realize it was a trick. Someone, whoever it was, was using RADAR decoys to make the incoming force look larger than it actually was. Taking up his secure radio in one hand and piloting through some evasive maneuvers with his other, he radioed the positions below.

Incoming enemy assualt! They're using fake RADAR signatures, os be careful where you shoot. We'll be turning onout IR beacons to let you know where we are!

OOC: They aren't easily transportable SAMs: they're rocket artillery compatable with SAM ammunition, which they just happen to be using a lot.

And BTW ND, lolz on the post.

The F-22 blasted into pieces, the pilots screamed filling the headsets of the SU-30 pilots.

Then the other missiles struck, killing 3 Su's instantly, damaging another.
They had no anti-air missiles, only their frontal guns. So they turned towards the enemy, and let loose a 3 second volley of hot metal.

Hohenzorn read the message recieved from the Falkasian forces. Then he read it again. Just to make sure, he quickly read it a third time.

"Gents..." he began, catching the attention of the Maj.Generals in the room.

"Sir?" General Rodney said in an inquiring voice.

"Tell your infantry to take cover. Right now. RIGHT FUCKING NOW!" So they got to it. There was no way to get them all out of harms way, but telling them to duck under the cover of the covered parts of the trench-and-bunker system could save a good number of them.

Meanwhile, as the fowarded message reached Kurtzman, he immedietely barked into the tactical net. "All tanks commanders and spotters, get inside the tanks now, and FOR GOD'S SAKE, SEAL THE GODDAMN HATCHES!" Which they did. Quickly, too.

ooc: I have hundreds of gallons of Napalm sitting in various parts of the nation that was never used.

I wonder if I should have some fun....

OOC: Oh God, you've already nuked me, I'm about to get fuel-air bombed, target someone else for God's sakes! I'm getting every unconventional weapon anyone has used on me!

<Red One, a hundred miles distant>

This was as close as they needed to be, the rapid deceleration of the bomber was matched exactly be all one hundred and foutry three of its wingmates. Once they dropped below Mach 1, the bomb bay doors snapped open, and rotary launchers punched out their missiles at a rate of one every two seconds. A little under fifty seconds, and every bomber would be able to turn back. It was now that they were most vulnerable, slow, big, and for now, not as stealthy as before. As long as no one could cover this distance in under a minute, the bombers would be able to launch over three thousand missiles at the Fanboy camp.

Each cruise missile accelerated and flew into a predefined flight zone that would allow it to strike its targets without interdicting another missiles attack run. They carried a single bay filled with time-delay sub-munitions, essentially small mines that would detonate at random amongst the camp, and a single modified penetration warhead. Essentially a high-speed top attack HEAT round, they would drive a slug of copper through tank armour into the interior, whilst the detonation would also drive explosive gases through the hole made by the copper, literally cooking the inside of the armour shell.

Red One would launch its surprise package as soon as the last conventional missile was away, and then join its brothers high-tailing it from the region.


<HMS Elizabeth, CIC>

"Admiral Hilton, it looks like a large group of possible hostile combatants could reach the bombers on their exfiltration from the area. The escorts could get overwhelmed, and casualties would be horrendous."

Hilton looked up at his new RSO. "Very well, lets get them some help up there. Scramble all Alert birds, from the Maryas well. Get a reaction force up, and heading inland down the bombers route. If anyone follows, we'll give them a bloody nose."

30 F-80's, who instead of being decommissioned, were assigned to drop napalm on the Fanboyist troops.

So they loaded up several napalm bombs, and began the taxi down the runway.
They lifted off, one after another. When they were in the air, they assumed an arrowhead formation. Streaking across the sky as fast as they could. This mission was the last one before the F-80's were taken apart for scrap, and the pilots wanted the planes career to end in glory.

Time to drop:
1 hour

The elite and well-experienced pilots had been expecting a retaliatory strike from the SU-30s, although using their guns was a mistake they had not expected them to make. One of the MiGs was hit by a blast of fire, although it only tattered a part of it's well-armored wing. Yet another advantage the MiG had over both the F-22 and the SU-30 was it's strong fuselage, capable of withstanding incredibly amounts of punishment and still able to make it's way back from a fight. Another took a spray through it's left tail, cutting down on the aircraft's mobility slightly. Circling around to engage once more, a final MiG caught a burst through it's wing, of which had a lucky blow and sliced straight through a hydralics line. Immediately sensing that something was wrong, the pilot veered off of his attack trajectory and went full throttle towards the nearest edge of the battlespace, most of his attention focused on keping the plane level and aloft.

Meanwhile, the aircraft circled around once more and lined themselves up with the SU-30s. What remaining missiles they had were fired off at random intervals, not after a minimum of a 5 second confirmed target lock. For the rest, they simply used their far superior aircraft to close the distance and into gun range from behind the SU-30s, trying to rout them and force a disorganized retreat.

ooc: so is it a dogpile on Fanboyist now?

255 F-80's, who instead of being decommissioned, were assigned to drop napalm on the Fanboyist troops.

So they loaded up several napalm bombs, and began the taxi down the runway.
They lifted off, one after another. When they were in the air, they assumed an arrowhead formation. Streaking across the sky as fast as they could. This mission was the last one before the F-80's were taken apart for scrap, and the pilots wanted the planes career to end in glory.

Time to drop:
1 hour

OOC: Seriously! Quit targeting me with every goddamn unconventional weapon you have! I'm not the only person at war with you!

And F-80's are, I believe, quite targetable by SAMs.

ooc: so is it a dogpile on Fanboyist now?

OOC: Why not? It seems to have been a dogpile on ND so far. I just like rocking the boat.

4 Su-30's were ripped to shreds by the random missile firing, the rest decided to go after the straggler, veering off, and firing the rest of their ammo into the retreating fighter, on of the Su-30's was hit by the missiles and exploded. Only one remained, still firing into the enemy fighter, praying it would be shot down before he was.

OOC: Lol, yea. Whatever works. May have to bring in my Godsend, lol. This is getting outta hand.

ooc: they are, so have fun as napalm rains down on you.

OOC: Seriously! Quit targeting me with every goddamn unconventional weapon you have! I'm not the only person at war with you!

And F-80's are, I believe, quite targetable by SAMs.


Which is why im using our out-dated cheap fighters, cant risk a fancy high class plane now can I? Besides I think youll be busy with all the other bombs falling around you :O

And even if you hit them, the napalm bombs would still explode. raining fire on you.
Its a win-win kamakazi attack.

OOC: Excuse my French, but Fuck it. My facilities are underground (remember?). Napalm won't do jack shit that the fuel-air bomb won't do. And napalm is less efficient. It'll hardly do anything even if you make it. Besides, I'm firing missiles like crazy trying (unsuccessfully) to get McLeod's planes, so odds are a good number of those stray missiles, looking for something to lock onto, will blow the F-80's clear out of the sky.

ooc: your French is pardoned

what about your infantry and personell under the ground?
Napalm can burn for hours. So your men will be stuck underground with hundreds of gallons of fuel and napalm burning over them.
And what about everything above ground? You couldent have possible fit EVERYTHING underground.


On the bright side, you wont need matches for your candles.

Using the aircraft's speed to it's advantage, the pilot was able to give itself quite a headstart from the remaining Sukhoi. However, he wasn't out of the woods yet, and could tell as white and yellow-hot streaks of fire began to appear to both sides of him. Knowing his warbird couldn't handle any fixated engagement with it's wing leaking hydralic fluid, he recalled similar situations he had been in in the past. Normally, the MiG would have easily been able to outrun the Su-30, but becuase of the sagging wing, it made supersonic flight near impossible. The pilot took evasive maneuvers, trying to do whatever he could to lose fire whilst not pushing the aircraft to it's limits.

Meanwhile, the remaining aircraft began to pursue the single SU-30 that was going after their injured comrade. In one quick burst, each plane opened up with a volley of cannon fire, directed straight at the rear and wings of the SU-30.

((Be back in a bit. Once there, will respond to McLeod's post. No combat though.))

The Su-30 exploded, its pilot managing to eject before the cockpit was engulfed in flames. He opened his parachute, and began floating to the ground. Cursing the enemy fighters.

<Red One>

The last of the conventional cruise missiles was punched out of its launcher, and the RAF aircraft turned tail, and in the time honoured tradition of heavy bomber pilots everywhere, made for the border as fast as possible. The Wing Commander inserted a coded key-card into a module to his right. A thumbprint and retinal scan later, the FAE was ready for launch. It dropped like a bomb from the bay before its rocket motors ignited, pushing it forward towards its glorious flame filled end just over ten minutes away.

*Time to impact of first wave of 144 missiles, ten minutes, then twenty-three more waves would arrive, each two seconds apart. Five seconds after that, the FAE will hit.

what about your infantry and personell under the ground?
Napalm can burn for hours. So your men will be stuck underground with hundreds of gallons of fuel and napalm burning over them.
And what about everything above ground? You couldent have possible fit EVERYTHING underground.


On the bright side, you wont need matches for your candles.

OOC: Please note what I added: because of McLeod's radar scramblers, I'm firing a lot of stray missiles: said stray missiles will be looking for something to lock onto. Your F-80's are conveniently in said area. Stray missiles find your F-80's. F-80's die.

And the F-80's crash onto your troops. Napalm still spreading.

OOC: They don't crash if they explode. Multiple missiles hitting the same target tend to do that. I said HUNDREDS, possibly THOUSANDS of missiles. My men are under the impression their being bombed by a very large force. Overkill is necessary.

ooc: doesn't the F in F-80 stand for fighter though. Why would fighters be on a bomber mission. Or at least an attack plane mission.

ooc: im going to clone Palpentine and have him do conversations with himself becuse I feel like it.

And youll be firing thousands of missiles for an hour? I said its going to take an IC hour before they even reach the area. I dont think you can fire thousands of SAM missiles for that long.

ooc: the F-80 dropped Napalm bombs in Korea.

OOC: Lolz.

Hundreds an hour. Thousands overall.

Look, you can't use the "we dogpiled you" argument, because we didn't invade you or firebomb you or whatever all at once. On the other hand, you and McLeod are ignoring everyone else to dogpile on me. Different. That's like me, Falkasia, and Gordonopia actually launching OFFENSIVES, not entering SD territory, all at the same time against you. That is effectively what you and McLeod are doing. So don't use "you guys dogpiled me first" arguments on me. Seriously, its annoying. Intensely.

<Fanboyist Camp, present time>

With a high pitched roar, the first wave of missiles hit, spreading the fragmenting submunitions far and wide to bury themselves in the ground like minature landmines before each one popped up and slammed into the top of a Valkyrie tank at nearly four hundred miles an hour. The kinetic energy alone was tremendo but the explosive tip and the copper slug penetrator would cause havoc amongst the fighting armour. Vengeance would be swift.

OOC: Well said Fanboy.

7 A-10 Thunderbolt II Tank Killer's launched from the occupied airfield in SD territory. They were loaded up with anti-armor rounds, and were ordered to take out Fanboyist armor hitting the ND mechanized division.

Meanwhile
Palpentine had lined up the heads on his desk, and was lecturing them on war stragety.
"So first im going to mass against fanboyist, since his troops are---" One of the heads fell on its side.
"JERRY! STAND UP STRAIGHT OR ILL PADDLE YOU IN FRONT OF THE WHOLE CLASS!!"
Palpentine was angry. Jerry always acted out in class.
"Acually Jerry, detention! After school!"
The head gaped at him, eyes empty. It was always gaping. He was tired of it.
"Dont give me that face Jerry, or your it will stick that way."

Having saved their injured comrade from sudden death and having depleted their ammunition, the flgiht proceeded to acelerate to Mach 2 and exit the combat airspace, heading on a diversionary course to their homebase in case they were being followed. As for the unknown bombers on RADAR, the flight lead decided not to pursue them, as they had already tempted fate once and come out alive. Besides, it might have turned into a trap which would have destroyed them all.

Meanwhile, the F-111s were still a ways out, and had been informed by the returning MiGs that the airspace had been cleared. Upon arriving in the battlespace, they would begin systematically bombing North Defese positions pending a quick escape back across the theatre border.

ooc: So where are all the heads coming from?

OOC: Be back soon. Going to play some hockey!

ooc:
Random people off the street, retail vendors, his mother, the maid, the hobo that begs for change outside the fast food store across the street, some prisinors, his ex-wife...

ooc: how did that nutcase get in charge anyway?

ooc: He killed and ate his rival in the election.
The news said it was a car crash.

Acually, he wasent always insane.

ooc: you should have him die of kuru if and when you kill him

OOC: This dogpile has gone too far. You are now pulling so many forces out that you're ignoring defense of your own nation. Your napalm planes WILL DIE. Most of them, anyway, and the rest won't cause that much trouble. The McLeodian attack I can take. Nuking me and then using everything you can against me while ignoring everyone else I cannot.

Falkasia, are the A-10's in your range? I know those aren't stealth.
IC:

The 48th Division was in utter shock. Where had the submunitions come from? They had already lost 12 tanks irreperably, and another 23 were in various states of damage. The rest were still functioning, and the commanders were trying to figure out what was going on. Where had these come from? It didn't matter much though, as the 44th (the unofficially the Invincible Pissed Division) immedietely began ripping through the enemie's tanks again, as the missile attack had disrupted the western (left) flank, but the 44th holding the center was relatively unaffected. All this was doing was making them madder. And you don't make the 44th mad and live. Or at least your allies won't.

The camp was seriously damaged, and it was estimated, by the end of the missile attack, that 1/4 of the force's effective strenght was no longer in fighting condition (not necessarily dead, but not in any condition to fight). Luckily, the napalm planes en route were recieving almost constant missile fire, so if any survived, only a handful would have any shot (not guarenteed) of completeing their mission.

ooc: Fanboyist remember, Palpentine is insane. He is planning on massing on everyone one at a time.

if the enemy "Begins to creep out of their camps with their tanks and guns and annoy me, I will just cleanse the land of the infediles with the power of the Atom. Sending them scattering back while I focus on the others." -Palpentine

<Fanboy/North Defese Battlezone>

Over the following minute, three thousand armour piercing missiles engaged almost every tank deployed in the field, and struck at any targets of opportunity still above ground. Submunitions were scattered everywhere, on fuses ranging from thirty seconds to two days in length. The cost to the RAF was high, those missiles weren't cheap, but any dent they could make in the Fanboy forces would be more than welcomed by their North Defesean allies.

Once the rain of fire had stopped, silence descended for a scant few seconds until the longer slower cruise missile flew the length of the encampment, dispersing a fine spray of fuel over a wide strip. Anyone close enough to watch it would have seen a tiny spark of light from the missile before their world turned to light and heat, and the fuel detonated.

The napalm planes were destroyed by the enemy SAMs, not being able to die a glorious death afterall, instead the Napalm detonated harmlessly into the desert about 1/2 a mile from the fight.

OOC: Seriously though, you can't possibly be maintaining all this stuff without wrecking your economy.

IC: At this point, Hohenzorn had had enough. Three infantry divisions would hold the line and, now that the enemy's air forces had expended themselves temporarily, they would extract and take the fight to them. Take the capital before the Chancellor could act. He couldn't nuke himself. And the 44th would lead the push. Happily.

As the tanks began pulling back, the artillery changed their focus the shelling the living daylights out of whatever remained of the enemy. Even some of the rocket artillery began changing their focus to silencing enemy batteries with anti-armour rockets, and a while a few continued the SAM firing, others began firing off anti-armour rounds at the tanks. Infantry continued to butcher anything that came close enough.

The Division decided the enemy was hurting enough, and retreated.
Losses:
56 tanks
76 APCs
30,234 infantry killed or MIA
All the Apaches
9 artillary battaries
---
Are these losses acceptable or realistic?
And good luck getting to the capital, youll have a pretty nice suprise waiting for you on the way there.

<Fanboy/North Defese Battlezone>

Over the following minute, three thousand armour piercing missiles engaged almost every tank deployed in the field, and struck at any targets of opportunity still above ground. Submunitions were scattered everywhere, on fuses ranging from thirty seconds to two days in length. The cost to the RAF was high, those missiles weren't cheap, but any dent they could make in the Fanboy forces would be more than welcomed by their North Defesean allies.

Once the rain of fire had stopped, silence descended for a scant few seconds until the longer slower cruise missile flew the length of the encampment, dispersing a fine spray of fuel over a wide strip. Anyone close enough to watch it would have seen a tiny spark of light from the missile before their world turned to light and heat, and the fuel detonated.


OOC: C'mon! You can't just destroy almost a thousand tanks just like that with one air strike. Its impossible. Like, physically impossible. Anything that can be delivered in that small a space by that few planes physically can't have that much destructive power unless you're operating under PMT or FT. At least half of those will miss! And a good number of my tanks will be damaged, but servicable!

IC:
Many infantry were consumed alive by the liquid inferno, screaming as the flames cooked them. Their comrades that escaped it were often kind enough to end their agony with their sidearms, but it was still a horrible way to go. A few thousand more infantry were knocked off in the process, and those that weren't were forced to dive for cover, and forced to use the convered parts of the tunnels to execute the escape order. Meanwhile, the tanks avoided the scattered (weak) submunitions as best they could, though most took minor damage extricating themselves as the enemy armor foundered through the same field and the artillery continued butchering the enemy armor. Damned if North Defesian tanks could ever hurt a soul again.

OOC: Do the math man. 144 aircraft, four launchers per aircraft, six missiles per launcher. Even with five percent reduction based on engine failures and system errors, that leaves 3200+ missiles striking at once. When I hit, I hit hard in one spot to crush someone. Never leave armor without air support. Top-attack missiles already exist, and don't need to be that big. My B-1 isn't the RL one, but its roughly similar in shape and size. It can be done with a 7 billion pop nation i'm afraid. I never said it was cheap, but it sure as hell is effective.

Falkasia, are the A-10's in your range? I know those aren't stealth.

OOC: No, sorry. My planes already left the battlezone after expending their ammunition. Need to send more next time, lol. Sorry.

Guess they aren't need now though.

OOC: McLeod: That still won't destroy 1,000 tanks. I'll still have plenty servicable, if damaged. At least half my original force. About 440 or so servicable, and functioning at some level. At least half of those will miss, or do negligable damage.

OOC: Three thousand missiles? Seriously? What are they, fourteen foot armour plating all round? Granted, you'll have survivors, but half still seems high.

General Grevise decided to make a speech to the McLead03 forces, to raise their spirits.
He grabbed the radio, tuned into the McLead03 frequency, then spoke.

"We must not underrate the gravity of the task which lies before us or the temerity of the ordeal, to which we shall not be found unequal. We must expect many disappointments, and many unpleasant surprises, but we may be sure that the task which we have freely accepted is one not beyond the compass and the strength of the Defesian Empire and the McLead03 Republic. The Chanceller said it was a sad day, and that is indeed true, but at the present time there is another note which may be present, and that is a feeling of thankfulness that, if these great trials were to come upon our Island, there is a generation of Defesians here now ready to prove itself not unworthy of the days of yore and not unworthy of those great men, the fathers of our land, who laid the foundations of our laws and shaped the greatness of our country.

This is not a question of fighting for Tomaok or fighting for Lillipum city. We are fighting to save the whole world from the pestilence of Fanboyist tyranny and in defense of all that is most sacred to man. This is no war of domination or imperial aggrandizement or material gain; no war to shut any country out of its sunlight and means of progress. It is a war, viewed in its inherent quality, to establish, on impregnable rocks, the rights of the individual, and it is a war to establish and revive the stature of man. Perhaps it might seem a paradox that a war undertaken in the name of liberty and right should require, as a necessary part of its processes, the surrender for the time being of so many of the dearly valued liberties and rights. In these last few days Parliment has been voting dozens of Bills which hand over to the executive our most dearly valued traditional liberties. We are sure that these liberties will be in hands which will not abuse them, which will use them for no class or party interests, which will cherish and guard them, and we look forward to the day, surely and confidently we look forward to the day, when our liberties and rights will be restored to us, and when we shall be able to share them with the peoples to whom such blessings are unknown."

He put down the radio, then went to breif his men.

OOC: Three thousand missiles? Seriously? What are they, fourteen foot armour plating all round? Granted, you'll have survivors, but half still seems high.

OOC: I said half servicable/barely functional. I didn't say half combat-ready. A third of the original force would be considered emergency combat ready. Maybe 150-210 properly combat ready.

Also, off for the night.

OOC: Ah right, my bad. That's fair enough then. Gentlemen, my work here is done. Sleep awaits.

ooc: sorry I missed so much.

IC:
"This is Gordonopian HQ. What are you requesting?"

ooc2: that was to the person who has sam.

Im going to spend some time reveiwing the thread. Ill join in tomorrow. Sorry been gone J--I mean ND has been hogging the computer.

wait wait wait I thought Sam and Rachel are in the same camp...

ooc: i dunno, I got confused cuz the other guys been acting like he's not, like "He radioed the Gordonopian Headquarters."

sam and rahcel are in gordo headquarters, I thought fucida was the head doctor in Dorgo HQ..

General Grevise decided to make a speech to the McLead03 forces, to raise their spirits.
He grabbed the radio, tuned into the McLead03 frequency, then spoke.

"We must not underrate the gravity of the task which lies before us or the temerity of the ordeal, to which we shall not be found unequal. We must expect many disappointments, and many unpleasant surprises, but we may be sure that the task which we have freely accepted is one not beyond the compass and the strength of the Defesian Empire and the McLead03 Republic. The Chanceller said it was a sad day, and that is indeed true, but at the present time there is another note which may be present, and that is a feeling of thankfulness that, if these great trials were to come upon our Island, there is a generation of Defesians here now ready to prove itself not unworthy of the days of yore and not unworthy of those great men, the fathers of our land, who laid the foundations of our laws and shaped the greatness of our country.

This is not a question of fighting for Tomaok or fighting for Lillipum city. We are fighting to save the whole world from the pestilence of Fanboyist tyranny and in defense of all that is most sacred to man. This is no war of domination or imperial aggrandizement or material gain; no war to shut any country out of its sunlight and means of progress. It is a war, viewed in its inherent quality, to establish, on impregnable rocks, the rights of the individual, and it is a war to establish and revive the stature of man. Perhaps it might seem a paradox that a war undertaken in the name of liberty and right should require, as a necessary part of its processes, the surrender for the time being of so many of the dearly valued liberties and rights. In these last few days Parliment has been voting dozens of Bills which hand over to the executive our most dearly valued traditional liberties. We are sure that these liberties will be in hands which will not abuse them, which will use them for no class or party interests, which will cherish and guard them, and we look forward to the day, surely and confidently we look forward to the day, when our liberties and rights will be restored to us, and when we shall be able to share them with the peoples to whom such blessings are unknown."

He put down the radio, then went to breif his men.

OOC: I love how you copied and pasted the speech, then edited it to make it look original.

ooc: Thanks :D
NS Falkasia, I thought you where the head doctor in the Gordo HQ where Rachel was being held, Sam in the Med-Tent Rachel in the abandoned school...
ooc: Just in case your so dense you dont see the plot twist coming:
Sam wanted to propose to Rachel.
WHAT A TWIST!!!!

OOC: Nope, and i was being sarcastic. I assume you were bright enough to get that.

ooc: i know, that thanks was sarcastic also.
Your already in Gordo headquarters, you dont need to radio the HQ, just walk around and ask where the female Defesian Pilot is being held.

OOC: I'm sorry, this is not only off-topic but nit-picky, but it's been bothering me for a while and I've tried biting it back but...

ND, you've been mispelling "Chancellor" this whole time. I'm sorry I tried to hold back my internal Grammer Nazi, but I failed. I can't take it for 33 whole pages!

Chanceller. Chancellor. at lest u get teh genrel meening and i dont just mispel evrything.
-------
Fanboyist, I think Sam is ready for another interrogation?

IC:
Sam was still sitting in the bed. He was getting worried, he still could not move his right leg. Or feel it.
He looked around for the doctor, or the nurse, he called for them in Defesian, only a slight hint of fear in his voice.

OOC: Can I say Wohl found where Rachel was, seeing as I let the crew drop off the face of the earth to save my army from the forces of Dogpiledom?

ooc: Yea, just dont rough her up to much, I might need her in another RP o.O

IC:

Rachel was still wondering who the new prisinors were, they moved in the cots, but so far n other Defesians had entered the building. She went the back door to the playground the Gordians had labled the rec area, and glaned around cam before going back inside. Deciding to just sit and wait.

OOC: WTF? *raises eyebrow*

IC: Private Woll strode confidently back over to Sam, while the nasty-looking Sergeant Carius held Marks by the ear with one large, sinewy arm. Woll cleared his throat.

"Hello again. I believe I have located your Captain Rachel. She is being held in relative comfort, or at least safety, by the Gordonopians. She is quite safe and unharmed."

"With my half of our deal fulfilled, I'd appreciate it if you could fill us in on anything you may know about the nuclear strike, or the circumstances leading up to it if possible."

Sam looked relived. He began talking in Defesian but stopped abruptly, remembering they did not understand.

"I-I think I know where some North Defesian missile silo's are...If I told you...Id be commited treason...Punishable by torture...Ive heard stories..."
He shook his head, trying to remove the ghastly stories from his mind.
"I can give you the...how do you say...coordinates to hidden silo's in the mountains. I just need a piece of paper..."

Wohl readily pulled a small pad of paper and a pen out of his pocket. "If it is possible... Rest assured that the fact that you supplied the information will never come to light. In fact, if you so desire it, you and others who's safety you fear for could come to stay in the Federation temporarily under witness protection, if you so desire."

He took the pad and paper, and began drawing the coordinates to the silo's.
"Its a few miles from the capital...From what ive heard the silo's are being opened, in case they need to launch in a hurry...This is supposed to be top seceret...But I have a friend in Logistical Command..."

He tore off the paper, and handed it back.
"One more thing, can you try to get Rachel over here? I really need to speak with her..."
He averted his eyes. Sadness forming inside them.

Taking the paper back from Sam, and feeling sympathetic to him (though he knew he should be avoiding that), Wohl violated regulation and popped off a salute to Sam. "Don't worry, I'll do everything I can to get Captain Rachel to you so you can speak with her."

Sam returned the salute, and thanked in him Defesian. He then laid his head back and tried to move his right leg again.
He could move and feel his left one fine...But so far his right leg was unresponsive...
He was hoping the doctor would come by soon...He needed to know what the doctor put in him ro make his leg this way...

Stage 1: Denial

ooc: I meant that he was calling up the actual HQ building, as in calling the commander, not the camp. I had already figured we were located together or very close. Malloy is lazy and didn't feel like walking over there.

ooc: Well Sam is calling him, you need to break life changing news to him. Fanboyist will find Rachel I guess, :p

Malloy walked back into the building and over to Sam.
"So I put in the request, and the commander didn't seem to object too much. So, how are you feeling?"

Sam started talking to the nurse; "Doc I dont know what you gave me, but I cant move or feel my leg. Its starting to scare me..."

Still in stage one.

ooc: just assume the nurse was translating again

Rachel was getting restless, she needed to see Sam to make sure he was all right, but being a prisinor meant she couldent just wander the base...

At that point, Rachel most probably heard the sound of two men arguing outside where she was being held.

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

"I don't give a crap!" Sergeant Carius bellowed at the unfortunate sentry. "We promised this guy that we would bring her to him for a chat, so that's what we'll bloody well do!"

"I can't let you throu--" the sentry made the mistake of trying to argue with him. It wouldn't work.

"Promise is a promise. Besides, they're downed pilots. They're both disarmed. One of them can't feel his goddamn leg. They can't cause that much damage. Not around me, at least. Deal with it."

"But--" the sentry never finished his sentence as Carius shouted him down while Wohl opened the door to retrieve Rachel.

He came upon her in the room, and took quick stock of her: she fit Sam's rather patchy description. "Ma'am. There's a friend of yours who wants to talk to you," he said matter-of-factly. "His name's Sam. Mine's Peter Wohl, and I'll be your guide for today. That big nasty-looking guy is Sergeant Carius, and the evil looking beanstock is PFC Marks. Please come with us."