Pro Patria

“Orbit insertion complete. Camera Online. Now the crude rocket adjusted its thrusters, as it took pictures, transmitting fleet patterns via an encrypted line to Granen’s databases, before it would head to the moon. “Boring, isn’t it… We should be seeing where the landing site is…” Now as the final burn started, there was silence, as anyone who had a large telescope would notice the craft leaving, passing through the space dust into the very cosmos itself….

2 Days Later.

“Interstellar Insertion Complete. Space Craft is already …” The crew all stared, the image of the pale grey moon amazing… “So this is the face of the Goddess…” Captain Swen said, “… I see this is where we will drop it off..” Dahitasu responded, “Package is away.. we are heading into orbit…” The rocket would stop, firing a package at the rock.

The probe would fly down, its thrusters giving it a wobble, as it would actually misfire, crashing into the moon instead of landing. Its cargo made it, the gift from the people still intact as it transmitted data, the walker several miles away, but still seeking out liquid water.

2 Days Later

“Long term mission is complete… we will definite become the new Imans..” The three laughed, as their rocket left the moon’s orbit, its scans complete, as it went for an entry into the atmosphere. This craft easily made it through the atmosphere, encountering difficulties only due to the slight jamming in the seas due to the Azurian fleet. It would be clear to all comers that a massive object was coming, as it took the long approach, just making sure to enter the massive north Granen territorial sea, before making a long, slow curve, to land on one of the civilian airports. Of course, this usually didn’t happen but due to processor bugs, the landing was a forced one.

National Ganen News Now, live! The Space Plane: Archangel has made it back to the planet, however, due to unknown circumstances, the craft has landed in the middle of Granen National Airport, forcing planes to divert to nearby military bases. This landing, an unscheduled emergency, was handled by the young crew with grace, even though some are arguing that this landing was proof of how the break between the military and the lunar project is affecting civilian relationships..

Prime Minister’s office: 3 days post Oil Embargo

“As you can see..” Sayaka said to the Prime Minister, “We are in need of new people for the festival, and our rocket, as you can see..” She pointed to a classical diagram, “It is a success, at least, the house of Holy will accept that their gift has made it..” The man shighed, running his fingers through his hair, before speaking up, “So, we’ve won next election, but with the war, its risky to insure ships like we usually do.. I HAVE AN IDEA!” he shouted, his trademark yelling shaking the small office.
“I am going to make several offers to nations. We need people for the science office, and the holies are bugging me about the slaves to free for New Years…” With that, he started to compose his letter to the world , the basic tone one of communication rather than battle.

Office of the Prime Minster Kouji Kabuto wrote:To All Nations:
We at the Holy Republic of Granen have need of people. We need your people that you feel are clogging your prison systems, your underclass, your homeless, your political prisoners. We will be more than glad to receive them, as long as we get their histories and backgrounds. Please respond to this right away, as most of our offices will be closing for the celebration of the New Rotation. Thank you again for you time.

However, in Hataway’s office, the tone was more muted, as he wrote two letters, one to the GRB, and the other to the Azurians.

Foreign Minister Bright Hathaway wrote:From: Foreign Minister Bright Hathaway
To: General Republic States.
Re: interstellar Meeting.
We propose a date for a space-docking moment. As of now, we have several rockets scheduled to go to orbit, and we wish to share our culture with your own. By arraging a time for interstellar docking, we could increase our knowledge of space. Please respond if you feel this is a good arrangement, as we could also offer you cheap ground to orbit transit rates.

Foreign Minister Bright Hathaway wrote:From: Foreign Minister Bright Hathaway
To: Foreign Minister Daniel Grayson
Re: Space Plane:
“At the price of 10 Million Marks, we feel you have made an excellent choice. Would you like to ship the plane via air cargo or via ship cargo, as that will determine our best window for delivery. Thank you for choosing Granen Systems for your choice in ground to space systems.

All of these letters were hard work, but the man smiled, before being shot. Several times. Who were these people would be a matter of debate for weeks, as the only thing they could be identified with were labels saying, “Death to the Dictator!” and “Support Azerik Freedom Worldwide!”

0445

Hazur Husnain stared through a pair of IR binoculars and cursed.

"What is it?" Mukhtar asked quietly. The two man were lying on a an outcrop of windswept rock in the darkness-shrouded northwestern mountains of the Greater Republic States, where they gazed down through a whirl of snow flurries at their target. When completed, this installation would serve as one of more than a dozen sites around the GRS which would form the outer ring of the country's missile defense shield. Someone in the Ministry of Defense had decided that a disruption to the state of M.A.D. between Kashawar and the GRS was unacceptable and so now Hazur's team and a dozen others were in the GRS and poised to destroy this outer ring and set the ABM program back five to ten years.

Except there was a problem. "There are too many heat signatures down there," Hazur said angrily. "I can count at least thirty to forty individuals walking the perimeter, and there's no telling how many more are inside the facility."

"Thirty to forty?" Mukhtar was incredulous. "Briefing said we could expect no more than a dozen-man security detail."

"Someone in intel fucked up," Hazur replied bitterly. What Mukhtar said the people in Intelligence could do to themselves would have gotten him in trouble back in Dar al-Din. Here though, Hazur couldn't agree more.

His comm headset buzzed to life. "Are we go for approach?" came Samir's voice. On a bend in the rough service road below Samir and the rest of the team sat in two of the rental SUVs and waited for Hazur's order to move on the installation's front gate.

Hazur stared down again through his binoculars, following the white heat outlines of one pair of guards as the patrolled the facility's perimeter. "Negative," he said at last, "Stand down and return to the rendez-vous point." He clicked the headset off and cursed.

Mukhtar looked at him. "So we're just giving up?"

Hazur shrugged helplessly. "If we send the team in, they're going to get slaughtered. There's no other way to hit the target from a safe distance. Wait..." He stood and began rummaging through the small mountain of gear they had hauled up to this remote vantage point.

"What are you looking for?" Mukhtar asked.

"This," replied Hazur with a smile, and Mukhtar grinned. They had dragged the 60 mm mortar and fifteen rounds with them to provide covering fire for the assault team as it withdrew. Now, they could put it to a different purpose.

The two men quickly set up the small mortar and got a rough range estimate. Hazur was no expert on the weapon, but he'd handled it in training. "Ready?" he asked.

Mukhtar nodded, and ducked down as he dropped the first round down the tube. As the mortar belched and jumped on its baseplate Hazur grabbed his binoculars and watched as the round exploded just inside the perimeter fence. "Add fifty yards," he said, and Mukhtar adjusted the mortar's range accordingly.

The second roound came down square on the roof of the installation's main buildings, sending debris and broken satellite dishes flying. Hazur grinned as the facility took on the appearance of a disturbed anthill as figures poured out of the installation's building's in confusion. "Perfect."

The remaining thirteen rounds fell in quick succession, turning the facility into a fair approximation of a war zone. Hazur chuckled in satisfaction as something - a gas tank maybe, or an ammo dump - went off in a pillar of flame and smoke, blowing out walls and setting vehicles on fire.

"I'm out," Mukhtar said, and Hazur nodded. "All right, let's get out of here." As he gathered up his gear Hazur took one last look at the chaos below. Most of the facility, he was sure, lay underground and had remained undamaged by the brief mortar attack. But at least his team wouldn't be leaving in complete failure. "Here's hoping one of the other teams did better than we did."

He pulled a thermite grenade from his belt, removed the pin, and tossed it into the middle of where they had left the now-defunct mortar and their excess gear. As he and Mukhtar started off down the mountain to the rendez-vous point, the grenade fizzed and began to burn, its intense heat reducing the weapons and gear to a pile of ash and melted metal.

The snow began to fall harder.

I-88, AlncFord

Gressom leaned his shoulders against the armored doors of the limoussine, his eyes carefully watching the now-deserted lanes that were sparcely populated by any late night Fordians coming home from work or a club. The AR-23 was cradled between the Elites legs; occasionally brushing against the concealed plate carrier adorned over his legs.
"Jelleck, pump the speed up to sixty then hold it there." The Lieutenant ordered; the young driver, also an Elite, nodded in affirmation and slowly pressed the gas pedal. The limoussine, turbo-charged for use by the Elite mechanics of the 7th Brigade, began a steady acceleration.

"President Adams my name is Sergeant Reykyavik," The man wore a wide grin, the black bandanna emblazoned with the emblem of the Elite Corps was offset by the man's sudden speaking. The entire trip had gone relatively silent.
"I welcome you to AlncFord and all of Azrica on behalf of Prime Minister Redwing and the Military Council. We're currently en-route to the House of Ministry to meet with the Prime Minister and Assistant Minister Remmagen." Reykyavik continued, one hand folding up against a bulky plate carrier across his torso.
"Afterwards myself and the rest of 4th Platoon will escort you to the Prime Ministers retreat at Lake Lucisio." The Sergeant leaned into the turn as the limoussine rounded a left bend in the dense city streets just south of the House of Ministry. Slowing to a near crawl and traversing the last hundred meters up the avenue, several figures could be seen standing alone on the steps to the House of Ministry. Dressed in a firm tailored suit, with hands clasped behind his back, Prime Minister Redwing awaited to personally greet his GRS counterpart.




Dinsmark, Belka


James Lazzeter, Junior Aide to Azrican Embassy in Dinsmark, strode past the two Belkan soldiers guarding the avenue approach to the Embassy. They greeted him in accented English, to which he responded in accented German. The soldiers smiled to one another and laughed before chattering off in their native languages; Lazzeter partially scolded himelf, perhaps he misplaced the stress on a consonant, or understressed a vowel or conjunction. Walking farther down the avenue, Junior Aide Lazzeter passed by a Belkan APC, several armed Belkans stopping for their daily cigarette before returning to the patrol of the Embassy. From what James could understand, Belka and Azrica were 'more than friends' in the regards to the situation in both Rakistan and Kayo. While Belka had not formally asked for aid in the Rakistani theater, a task force journeying from Dinsmark to Port Kayo to aid an Azrican Task Force certainly showed Azrica's need for assistance in such a situation.

James had filed away several hundred papers from the House of Ministry requesting conferences with Military advisors from both Belka and Azrica.
"Könnte ich eine Schachtel Zigaretten, bitte?" Lazzeter managed slowly, the portly Belkan behind the store counter observed the Azrican with wary eyes before breaking a sharp smile before reaching back to the rear wall and plucking a pack of cigarettes from a small plastic container.
"Rauchen ist tödlich Sie Azrik - Ich will nicht an einen Freund aus über das Meer sterben sehen, Sie kennenzulernen!" The Shopkeeper continued to laugh, James himself catching less than half of what the Belkan said. He spoke too rapidly, too fluently. James placed several notes on the table before quickly placing the pack in his jacket pocket, as he turned away he could hear the Shopkeeper placed the notes in a small cashier.
"Auf Wiedersehen, Azrik!" The Shopkeeper said hapilly, James threw a brief smile over his shoulder as he exited the small shop.





Port Kayo, Hyka


The Elites had arrived from the north, slicing along Route 11. The few Marines in the outskirts of northern Kayo had hardly understood the situation when the gray-garbed soldiers, armed with AC-14 and AR-23 rifles, began to shout and bark commands in English to them. General Rebaul took one final drag from the cigarette, the tattered and worn material of the gloves that had kept his hands barely warm all those weeks spent in the mountains of Hyka now seemed useless.

"Popped about nine or ten Lippers, yeah." An Elite boasted, sharing several gulps of water from a Marines canteen before leaning against the greeting chassis of an LGV-7.
"No shit ... You guys seriously got dropped into Hyka. Fuck man, I thought it was all bullshit." A Marine joked powerfully, the two Azricans congregating as if they had know each other for a considerable time in their life. Rebaul flicked away the burnt out cigarette and placed his AR-23 between his gloved hands, stepping into the street, the General growled loudly.
"Alright -- Elites, Marines, we're getting our men back.." Rebaul boomed, as soon as the 80 Elites had appeared in northern Kayo, they would don Marine uniform and meld into the force of Azrican Marines in Kayo and prepare to strike back north of the city to relieve the pressure on the remaining Elites just outside the city limits.


Besides the Marines identified as 3rd Platoon sat four LGV-7Rs, the vehicles retrofitted with four 37mm Auto-cannons to provide pinpoint surface-to-air capabilities for the Marines. The Armored Corps brigade that had accompanied the Marines through Kayo was a fairly light force, only two platoons of LBT-17 to pack the majority of the anti-tank punch in Kayo, with barely four platoons of Anti-Air vehicles. Aside from only two batteries of M110's, "artillery support" wasn't in the Marines list of aid until the Task Force could manage its way through the blockade. For now, it appeared that the Marines were on their own. Just how Rebaul liked it.






3 Kilometers north of Kayo, Hyka, Route 11


So close, yet so far. The Lipetskayan resistance had only intensified as the worn down group of Elites fought their way past line after line. Striking in from the rear, where defenses had been relatively weak, the Elites had managed to blast their way through a considerable amount of resistance toward Port Kayo. The skyline was on the horizon, the bridge head leading across a small river into the outskirts of Kayo, which was only hundreds of feet away from "Marine Territory", was just past an open field slicing through the roadway.

"McGrant, we need to get over that bridge now!" Woodrow commanded; the Lipetskayan gunfire being delivered by several platoons of disembarked infantry had grown in intensity as the last few squads of Elites had rushed from their cover in the forested tree line skirting Route 11 into Kayo.
"There's no way we're getting past that armor, we don't have enough '92's!" An Elite shouted, his voice hurried over the communication channels. Off in the distance another Lipetskayan tank barked, destroying an overturned vehicle off to the left of McGrant and causing a rolling explosion to throw the soldiers to the ground. Just ahead of the Lieutenant a group of Elites prepared an M92, one soldier totting an MAR-49 and hosing down any Lipetskayan soldiers in the open. The soldier was beat back into cover by a barrage of return fire from several different positions he hadn't fired upon. As the Elite threw himself back out of cover to fire the M92 fired -- the guided rocket struck upwards into the air and lanced down into the T-100, causing a blast of fire as the vehicle was ended in a powerful blast. With the tank destroyed a group of Lipetskayan soldiers rushed from their cover in the lull of combat; their weapons brandished as the Lipetskayans peppered the Elites that had fired the M92 with a torrent of rounds, several of the soldiers managed to return a quick burst of fire before being cut by the high-speed lead and dropping on their backs.

"McGrant -- We need to get back into the woods, now!" Master Sergeant Woodrow screamed to the shell-shocked Lieutenant, ducking only as a stray bullet glanced off the hood of the ruined vehicle. Then the chatter of Azrican cannon sounded across the battlefield. The war in Kayo had started.














Port Kayo, Alpha Section


The Cadaval mounted its four large piston legs into the gentle alleyway; sufficiently protected on two sides by the low squating apartment buildings. This protection came at a disadvantage, however, the location of the eight Cadaval's of Alpha Section meant that only long range targets could be hit. One of the primary "long range targets" was Lipetskayan artillery that would undoubtedly begin firing on Marines within the city. What the crews of the Cadaval's couldn't offer in support for the Marines, they'd make up for with deadly counter-battery fire on any Lipetskayan howitzers that might dare fire.

"She looks mighty pretty, Sergeant." Lieutenant Randalls grinned, the RAC tankers helmet adorned over his head displaying the emblem of the RAC's crossed lightning bolts signifying the Artillery Corps dulled from scraping against the metal of the Cadaval's chassis. Parked against two other LGV-7 serving as command vehicles and straddling the eight other M110s situated on the avenue just north of the water front, Alpha Section had assumed its position in the early morning hours and had prepared the 180mm cannons for pinpoint counter-battery fire. Looking to the left, Sergeant Doland watched two more RAC tankers prepare a SkyBird UAV that would be used to traingulate the incoming artillery fire from the Lipetskayans; while the other members of Alpha Section were all more than willing to use their weapons, Doland still had a strange feeling about finally firing his M110 in anger.





12 kilometers North of Elmeria Bay, Northern Azrica


The low drone of the Kennel's nuclear turbines made Captain Ambrosse fidget in his stance. Only slightly, though, for the Nuclear Attack Submarine Kennel still had a while to go before it should fear detection. With the departure of the NAS from District 2's submarine pen at Elmeria Bay, it was obvious that the situation in Kayo was quickly escalating. First with the arrival of several Belkan vessels and a submarine which was rumored to be carrying a nuclear payload, and finally with the launch of Azrica's own Nuclear Missile Submarine, the NMS Galda.

"We are clear of Checkpoint Alpha, Captain." Said a Junior Lieutenant slowly; Ambrosse released a long sigh as the screw of the Kennel began to slow. The Attack Sub only had to coast several miles off the sea floor in the shallows before being in open ocean, where it would most definitely disappear to any untrained and prying eyes of overhead satellites and surface ships. Ambrosse held only a few questions, like why exactly the Military Council would be so willing to commit such a force for the sake of escorting Azrican Marines out on Azrican ships. Orders were orders, though.






AlncFord, House of Ministry


Prime Minister Redwing and the rest of the Military Council had departed several hours ago, left alone with their aides, Director Monokisi stared silently at a touchscreen display in the Situation Room.
"So the Belkans are upping the ante." Monokisi groaned lightly, General Casey's aide stood beside him, Lieutenant Colonel Keddick, and bit his lip. The young soldier had accompanied General Casey on his journey to the Military Council and was an indisposable asset to the Director.
"Looks that way, sir. They're bringing some real heavy firepower." Keddick returned, one hand folding against his hip before he quickly tapped several key strokes on a small prompt next to the display. Several schematic displays were created out of thin air, detailing the designs and statistics of the Belkan boomers that were steaming toward Kayo with a possibly nuclear payload.

"Major Yanik, what do you make of all of this?" Monokisi inquired, cocking his head back to the Naval aide sitting in chair at the far end of the display table.
"We've got Montfort barring us from the waters of Kayo, angry Lipetskayans who know we've been fucking around in their backyards who would love nothing more than to wipe us off the map ... " The Major stood slowly, running one hand through the mat of shortly cropped hair. Taking several awkward steps forward the Major laid a single finger on a map in the corner of the touchscreen display, Port Kayo flared to life in the center of the table.
"And the Belkans just brought fucking nukes to Lipetskaya's doorstep. It's goin' to be one long fuckin' week."
"Even with the Belkans assets, I still think we're outgunned." The Lieutenant Colonel sighed; for all the advanced equipment the Marines and Navy had at its disposal, numbers were against them. The Lipetskayans outnumbered them on the ground and air, while Montfort outnumbered them at sea, where the biggest guns won.

Fight the enemy with the weapons he lacks – Alexander Suvorov

-

Alyosha huddled behind the sandbag bunker on the far side of the bridgehead. He was far out from Kayo, but he and his unit had been positioned there, along with several others, to prevent any possible Hykan or Caspian insurgents from supporting the Azricans with a flank attack on the Lipetskayan ring. It wasn’t a particularly wide river below, but it was deep enough that fording it was out of the question, especially with such a steep face on either shore. A reassuring factor was the grouping of IFVs and a pair of Ice Bears that sat behind the barricades for support in case something did occur. It spoke to Alyosha that the high command thought something big was headed their way, but he had no idea what it could be. The highway that stretched out before him was littered with ruined and abandoned cars that had mostly been pushed aside close to the barricade, but were still tightly packed not too far off. Alyosha rose from his cramped position to check on another group of soldiers that sat atop one of the IFVs, staring out across the land that surrounded Kayo and laughing rather loudly.

“Praporschik.” One of the men nodded in acknowledgement as the laughter faded away at the approach of their NCO.

“Something funny, Sergei?” Alyosha asked in mock annoyance, knowing the soldier would catch on to the farce.

“No sir, just the Azricans.” Sergei retorted with a chuckle. Rumours were spreading around of an entire paratrooper division from the south coming up to join in on the surrounding of Kayo. It was well known amongst the rest of the Lipetskayan Armed Forces at how skilled the paratrooper corps was, and their presence would certainly spell death for any Azrican that got out of line.

“Ah yes.” Alyosha laughed. “What’s the matter, Grigory?” He asked, his tone becoming more serious. The man, shouldering his Povnikosch to peer down the telescopic sight, had become still as he sought to find something in the near-distance.

“I see movement out there, sir.” He stated calmly. “Not sure if they’re ours, theirs, or just some civilians looting the cars.” The sudden dive sideways answered his question as a burst of gunfire ricocheted off the top of the IFV. Each of the soldiers dove sideways, falling to the pavement with a thud. A few curses followed as they tried to move their stunned limbs into action.

“On nas podstrelil?” Alyosha shouted at his men, his voice being lost amidst the confused shouts of soldiers responding to the gunfire. “Did he shoot at us?!” Alyosha repeated again, this time clearer. As if in response, one of the tanks exploded from an unseen rocket, sending shrapnel all over the surrounding pavement. “Get us some air support!” Alyosha said calmer to the nearby radio operator who had rushed to his side at the outset of combat. Hefting his rifle, he returned fire as the communications soldier called in the request.

-

Onya stood beside her Frostfiend, listening to the shrieking of the machine as it rained brutal vengeance onto the distant battlefield. Specialty rounds had been handed to the Frostfiend crews, to be paired with new targeting systems in use with the infantry units on the front. It was promised to increase the range and accuracy of the battery’s fire, so much so that had Onya doubted whether their position would be enough to reach their targets. Despite these doubts, the reports coming over the radio were proving their effectiveness, as pockets of Azrican resistance were caught in storms of metallic fury.

-

Abakum sat in the cockpit of his Perun, an older Lipetskayan fighter-bomber, as it soared over the treetops. He and his flight had been on alert in case the hostilities around Kayo had flared. As expected, they had, and so he and his unit were scrambled to provide support for the units on the ground and to ensure the destruction of anything heavy that the Azricans could bring to the table. In the near-distance, the city of Kayo appeared on the horizon, with explosions and smoke appearing intermittently from amongst the buildings.

“Target those vehicles there.” Said the flight leader over the radio in Abakum’s headset. Flipping the switches to enable his ordnance, he lined up with the rest of his flight and dropped a pair of bombs along the lines of the Azrican defenders, the ground lighting up in a massive fireball as Marine defenders and the buildings they were standing amongst were engulfed in the flames from the Lipetskayan air support. As the flight continued, the rest of the planes dropped a pair of bombs, cutting a massive flaming swathe through the lines of the defending Azricans. Cutting a hard left, the Lipetskayan Perun group cut over the tree canopy back towards the Lipetskayan lines, flying low to await further calls for support along the front lines in the city of Kayo.

-

The Ice Bear that was pouring shell after shell into the Azrican lines had already claimed two IFV’s and a score of Marines in the intense fighting. Because of this tally, it had attracted the attention of several anti-tank rockets, two of which had missed, and one of which was streaking through the sky to crash downwards on the turret. An explosion rocked the region as the tank hull shook with the violence of the blast. As the smoke cleared, the Ice Bear stood defiant, its newer reactive armour having shielded it from the bulk of the attack. A deformed turret turned to fire upon the assailant, a loud boom marking the death of several more Azrican Marines, as the battle continued onwards.

-

“Mikhail?” The other end of the line had gone silent for several moments as the Lipetskayan leader contemplated what was being proposed to him. He had been informed of the outbreak of hostilities in Kayo minutes before, and was now struggling to consider the preparations for an outbreak of war with Azrica’s sphere of influence. It was something he had hoped to avoid, although all hope of that was quickly fading away. Fighting a war against an already capable enemy was proving difficult enough, but to add in such a powerhouse as Azrica would prove disastrous for Lipetskayan forces on the ground. With fresh reinforcements pouring in by the thousand, it would be nothing but a matter of time before all of Lipetskaya’s early gains were reversed and they were fighting another war on Lipetskayan soil. The stress of the war was already weighing on Mikhail, and this new thought was not helping his condition. Sighing loudly, he lifted the receiver back to his ear and leaned back in the chair of his office in Sakha.

“We know their capabilities, but we do not know their motives. If we are to defeat this new enemy, we must find out what they seek to gain from this war. Perhaps they can be appeased into submission, even if temporarily. I will convene with the Military Council and discuss expanding our effort against the Hykans and Caspians. If a war with Azrica is inevitable, then we must prepare.”

“I will see what I can do, Mikhail.” Duoko stated from the other side of the line. “And what of my earlier proposal?” He asked as an afterthought, noticing that Mikhail had ignored the question.

“I will also inform the Council of my intention to exterminate Hykan cities in the south, to weaken their resolve and perhaps end this war more quickly.” An aide entered the room as he finished, informing him of the Council’s arrival. “I will inform you of the minutes after the meeting.” Mikhail hung up the phone and stood, fixing his tie before striding out the door, the aide in close attendance.

-

Aganya stared at the computer console, furiously typing in matrix after matrix to ensure the proper coordinates went through. The computer was slightly archaic, but the missile systems were never meant to be a primary weapon, merely a deterrent. Because of this, the updates had come slowly, never being a priority. Nonetheless, Aganya was good at what he did and he punched the keys with an expert’s efficiency. Line after line of code appeared on the screen, disappearing with every stroke of the enter key. Around him, other technicians like him prepared similar codes for other missiles and other various electronic aspects involved in a missile launch. After a time of punching in code and thinking about why the missiles were being launched, the order came to prepare for launch. The crude loudspeaker announced the order, and then the countdown began. Ignoring it, Aganya stared at the massive screen in front of him as a view from an external camera showed the array of missiles lifting out of their subterranean homes and into the sky to reap unholy vengeance down upon their targets. Around him, others began to clap in celebration of the successful launches. Aganya could merely wonder where they were bound.

-

The room was deathly silent as the Hykan lawyer sat down. Despite the shattered state of the city of Sansberg, much of the city had turned up for the trial of the Lipetskayans accused of war crimes. For those who were unable to pack themselves into the crowded court room, radio announcers were on hand broadcasting the tribunal live throughout the city. As well as these Hykans, a Kashawari news crew had set up a camera to broadcast the scene to audiences back home, who had taken quite a stance on the Cuskan massacre. All of this had contributed to a scene of silence in the court, as the Hykans hung on every word the lawyers brought against the Lipetskayans. For their part, the soldiers sat silently, some with an immovable frown on their faces, and others with an almost smug smile as they awaited their fates. As the trial had passed, and once the Hykans had finally rested their gruesome accounts of the massacre, it fell to the Lipetskayans to say their piece, which is why the court room had fallen still.

With amazing presence, Lieutenant Aleksandr stood, his shoulders and back straight as he stared directly into the eyes of the judges ahead of him. One broke his gaze and awkwardly shuffled some papers. A Kashawari camera slowly edged its way around the court room to try and catch Aleksandr’s face as he delivered his statement. It managed to get alongside him as he spoke, unbroken in his concentration on the single Kashawari officer who sat on the tribunal, merely a token member of the panel.

“I know you are ready to condemn me as a psychopath, but know this. We are not murderers. We are officers engaged in a war against brutal terrorists who will stop at nothing, not even at killing children, to achieve their ends. They are animals and the only way to deal with them is to destroy them. There is no room for kindness in a war like this. Only those who were there can truly understand why we did what we did. I have no regrets. My conscience is clear. I hope the same can be said for you.” Upon finishing, Aleksandr sat and relaxed in his chair as he awaited his judgement.

Dar ad-Din

Hasan Nifar al-Tahari sat slumped on the couch in the living room of his apartment, a glass and half-empty bottle of red wine on the coffee table in front of him. His mother would have frowned at that small sacrilege, but she was two years in her grave and Hasan wasn't in the mood to be sober. He tried concentrating on the television, but the program on now -- a made-for TV movie about a falafel vendor accidentally transported back to the Middle Ages -- was hopelessly moronic and after five minutes his thoughts would wander off again.

He started as his cell phone lit up and began to vibrate from where he'd placed it on the table. "Hello?"

"yaa Hasan, how are you brother?" It was his brother Muhammad, a war correspondent for the state-run news agency al-Akhbar.

"I'm all right," Hasan replied. "Why are you calling?"

"Heard you got promoted," his brother replied, his voice sounding fuzzy and distorted. "Full commander now? Nicely done."

"Thanks." Hasan reached for the wine glass and took another long sip.

"And did you see the news? About those Lipetskayans you caught over in Hyka, I mean? All of them are getting the firing squad, looks like."

"Great." Hasan finished the glass.

"What's the matter, brother?" Muhammad asked, "You don't sound happy about that."

Maybe it was the last glass of wine, maybe it was the fact that it was his brother on the other end of the phone, but just then Hasan told him everything: what he'd seen in Cuska, his suspicions about the true culpability of the Lipetskayans, and the response of the CID. When he finished there was a long silence, and Hasan stared at his empty wine glass. "I probably shouldn't have told you about that."

Muhammad laughed. "Don't about it brother. I won't tell anyone. The censors wouldn't let me even if I did." In a cheerful voice he changed the subject. "So how's the wife?"

"Well. Jenan's sleeping."

"Sleeping? Damn, what time is it by you?"

"Almost one in the morning. Why, where you calling from?"

"Montfort. I'm on a satellite phone right now -- I've been trying to get over the border into Hyka for almost a day now. The rumor is that shit is going down in Kayo right now. Azricans, Lipetskayans, Hykans, Belkans-- you name it, they're there." His voice broke up for a second. "All right, brother I have to go. Congrats on the promotion again."

"Thanks." The phone went dead. Hasan stared at it for a moment, then poured himself another glass.

***

from al-Akhbar's English-language blog:
Violent Rioters Arrested in Sale and al-Quds

Police dispersed riots yesterday in the southern cities of Sale and al-Quds, after rioters set fire to several cars and attacked police officers on the scene. In a press release Yunis Qadir al-Humsi, the governor of al-Muqadis province, quelled rumors that the governor's office had asked for military assistance. "We will not be cowed by the actions of a few extremists who believe our emir and government should bow to the tyranny of mob rule. There are methods for voicing your opinion in this country, and violence is not one of them." The provincial prosecutor's office has announced that it will begin an investigation into the connection between several key members of the Party of God and the riots yesterday.
posted 09:32 AM


from Heaven's Command, the English-language blog for the Party of God:
Protests Against Government Actions are Met with Police Brutality

An estimated ten thousand people took part in rallies yesterday in al-Quds and Sale as well as in New Haifa and Tiberias, calling for an end to the mission in Hyka and for a defense to be made of our Muslims brothers and sisters in Rakistan. "Why should we work so hard to defend Hyka when there are fellow believers being martyred right now?" asked one protester who declined to be named for fear of harassment by the government. The rallies, although peaceful, were nonetheless violently broken up by state riot police who attacked protesters with water cannon, batons, and tear gas. An estimated two hundred people have been injured and there are reports that one woman is dead. Secretary-General of the Party of God Ahmad ibn Hanbal called the rallies an important demonstration of the people's will and condemned the actions of the governor's office. "We came with hands open to God and to peace," he said in a statement this morning, "And we were met by a fist."

Out of the ashes...

One by one we are marching,
ascending in legions of light,
in twilight we conquer the sun.

All for one we are falling,
the avatar of power and might.
Under his reign, we march under the sun.

Central Belka, Dinsmark, Steel Square

"... Landwächter of Dinsmark! I come among you to look you firmly in the eyes, feel your temperature and break the silence which is dear to-me, especially in wartime. Have you ever asked yourselves in an hour of meditation, which every one finds during the day, how long we have been at war? Not only a month, as a superficial observer of events might believe, not from earlier this year, as Lipetskaya unleashed the dogs of war with a criminal and premeditated will.

We have been at war eight years, precisely from Feb. 1, 1992, when the first communiqué announcing the mobilization in Loors was issued.

The Loors reclamation was hardly finished when appeals from the insurgent state of Fehre, from herr General Walter Bachmeier who had begun his national revolution seeking to reunite his land with ours. Could we Fascists leave without answer that cry and remain indifferent in the face of the perpetuation of the bloody crimes of the so-called popular fronts? Could we refuse to give our aid to the movement of salvation that had found in Milan Crzovic its creator, ascetic and martyr? No. Thus our first squadron of airplanes left on July 27, 1992, and during the same day we had our first casualties reported.

We have actually been at war since 1982-that is from the day when we lifted the flag of our revolution, which was then defended by a handful of men against the communist, democratic, capitalistic world. From that day world liberalism, democracy and plutocracy declared and waged war against us with press campaigns, spreading libelous reports, financial sabotage, attempts and plots even when we were intent upon the work of international reconstruction which is and will remain for centuries, as the undestroyable documentation of our creative will.

With the outbreak of hostilities on April 14th, 2000, we had just finished several wars which imposed relatively modest sacrifices in human life but had forced us to make an enormous logistic and financial effort.

But developments in history, which sometimes are speeded up, cannot be halted any more than the fleeting moment of Faust could be halted. History takes one by the throat and forces a decision. This is not the first time this has occurred in the history of Belka! If we had been 100 percent ready we would have ended the Civil War in 1982, not 1988! During that brief period of time we faced and overcame exceptional difficulties, many of you experiencing such firsthand.

But now, this time WE ARE READY! Only during the period that goes from Oct. 1, 1999, to April 10th, 2000, were sent to the border of Rakistan 14,000 officers and 396,358 soldiers, and organized two armies-the fifth and tenth. This latter had ten divisions. In the same period were sent 1,924 cannon of all calibers and many of them of recent construction and model; 15,386 machine-guns; 11,000,000 rounds of shells; 1,344,287,275 bullets for light arms; 127,877 tons of engineers' materials; 779 tanks with a certain percentage of heavy tanks; 9,584 auto vehicles of various kinds; and much, much more.These figures show that to the preparation of the Libyan defense we devoted an effort which can be described, at the very least, as imposing.

It was during March and April that the international community of Islam gathered and lined up against us the mass of their forces, recruited from two continents and armed by a third. They concentrated in Rakistan and hurled many against our lines where on the first line were proud Belkan divisions, brave and faithful. On April 14th the battle was thus started.

We are not like the muslims. We boast that we are not like them. We haven't elevated lying into a government art nor into a narcotic for the people the way the government has done. We call bread bread and wine wine, and when the enemy wins a battle it is useless and ridiculous to seek, as the muslims do in their incomparable hypocrisy, to deny or diminish it.

One entire division-the Tenth Mechanized-was broken up almost completely with its men. The 41st Jagdgeschwader was literally sacrificed, almost entirely. Where possible we attacked strongly and furiously.

Since we recognize the facts of our failures it is useless for the enemy to exaggerate the figures of its booty. It is because we are certain regarding the grade of national maturity reached by the Belkan people and regarding the future development of events that we continue to follow the cult of truth and repudiate all falsification.

The events during these months exasperate our will and must accentuate against the enemy that cold, conscious, implacable hate, hate in every home, which is indispensable for victory.

Rakistan, and by extension Islam, cannot win the war. I can prove this logically and in this case belief is corroborated by fact. This proof begins with the dogmatic premise that although anything may happen Belka will march with Azrica, side by side, to the end.Those who may be tempted to imagine something different forget that an alliance between Belka and Azrica is not only between two states or two armies or two diplomacies but between two peoples and two revolutions and is destined to give its imprint upon the century.

Dinsmark comrades! Through you I want to speak to the Belkan people, to the authentic, real, great Belkan people, who fight with the courage of eagles on land, sea and air fronts; people who early in the morning are up to go to work in fields, factories and offices; people who do not permit themselves luxuries, not even innocent ones.

They absolutely must not be confused or contaminated by the minority or well-known poltroons, anti-social individuals and complainers, who grumble about rations and regret their suspended comforts, or by snakes, the remains of the empire, whom we will crush without difficulties when and how we want.

The Belkan people, the Fascist people deserve and will have victory. The hardships, suffering and sacrifices that are faced with exemplary courage and dignity by the Belkan people will have their day of compensation when all the enemy forces are crushed on the battlefields by the heroism of our soldiers and an immense cry will cross the mountains and oceans like lightning and light new hopes and give new certainties to spirit multitudes: Victory, Belka, Unity!" - Supreme Chancellor Kampf, Speech to the 1st, 2nd and 3rd LW Divisions.

Southern Pacific, Azurian Waters, 8 klicks west of Azurian shore, BMS Puma S14, Gepard Class Schnellboot,

The captain of the vessel, Wulf Prikot, puffed his pipe slowly, savoring the flavor of the tobacco as it slid over his tongue and seethed into his lungs. Shifting the pipe in his mouth slightly, the Captain paced back and forth, they weren't supposed to be here, oh how they weren't. This was all high up, very high up. Espionage. Even the fascists themselves were taking part in it... So long as they weren't found out, everything would be peachy keen with Wulf.

"Captain."

Prikot grumbled slightly, shifting on the balls of his feet to face the radar operator who had just addressed him, who was, at the least, looking quite nervous, beads of sweat visibly forming in the crimson light.

"Ensign, what is it?"

"Contacts. Whole squadron of them. I'm guessing helos, from the looks of it."

This complicated things incredibly. Now the question was fight or flight... but which? Flight would be met with a dishonorable discharge and the barrel of a gun, not just him but his family as well... but fighting would undoubtedly result in death.

Protect that group, no matter what.

His orders ringing out in his mind, the Captain made the tough decision to attack, at least when they thought they had them. As the squadron approached and issued their petty threats Wulf sighed heavily, rubbing his temples as he mustered the will to give the order, which, after a few moments, he did such,

"The vultures approach... Feed them."

With that the weapons officer issued his appropriate commands and the crew about the S-Boat began to ready the SAMs, even some preparing heavy machine guns for resisting the Azurians. As the SAMs turned about, the vessel made sure not to lock onto the hostiles, avoiding using radar as to not alert them to the coming danger. When three separate helos were targeted, the S-Boat let loose, sending three SAMs to three separate targets, though they didn't lock the missiles onto the choppers.

At least, not immediately, activating it mid flight, giving the Azurian pilots even less time to react. Hopefully the team would get ashore, that would, in the eyes of the Belkan government, make it all worthwhile.

Rakistan, Khumkah, Lord's Plaza

Khumkah had fallen.

The city had fallen, surprisingly, in less than a week. Using his logic, Roderick figured they'd attempt at a sort of delay tactic in the urban center, using the tight corridors to their advantage over Belkan armor, and while some pockets of resistance still burned with a fierce flame, the city was undeniably Belkan in control. The mass of Rakistani Army troops and Mujhas had withdrawn into the north, towards the craggy hinterlands that wouldn't favor armor... a wise decision, however, Roderick still believed they could've made a viable stand in Khumkah...

Even if they were sub-humans.

Shaking his head as he gazed over the magnificent plaza that once was always abuzz with activity, back when Rakistan was a sovereign state, and from long before, when the Belkan governor would look over the many inhabitants of his city, such things would come again, according to the Chancellor. As would the world, eventually. But for now, his company was assigned to raise the flag in the recently taken city, from the domineering flagpole beside the former Presidential Palace, and announce to all that Khumkah would be under Belkan rule from now until the end of the Belkan state. Whatever. Roderick just wanted to get this over with, because he had a nice juicy leave of two months when the week was done, and there were only two more days after this and he could see Joesephina again, and enjoy the life of a civilian, if only for a brief while. Who was he kidding? The war would be over in a couple of weeks anyway, but something nagged at the back of his mind... something about these mujhas... They were strong willed. They wouldn't give up.

Then again, the Belkan government had an answer for that too...

But, that wasn't Roderick's business, he was just here to make sure his squad rose the colors and make everything look good. His position as feldwebel was solid, at least among his men, and he would appear to care as he saluted the colors. The sun was distractingly bright, though the clear sky, a nice shade of azure, provided a lovely backdrop, it was horrendously hot, and the uniform that Roderick was clad in didn't exactly feel comfortable. He'd put up with it for the past few weeks, he could do it for another three days. A small, three-man band was assembling nearby to play a very simplified version of the Belkan national anthem, and his squad, all six of them, assembled to unfurl the colors. Wiping the sweat from his brow before standing at attention at the order of the lieutenant nearby, and his squad, though tired, immediately went into their practiced regimen and slowly hooked the flag onto the pole as the nearby group of makeshift musicians played a rough version of the anthem with a couple of trumpets. Standing stiffly at attention beside the lieutenant, Roderick snapped a crisp salute to the colors as he watched with pride as his men did their expected duty admirably as the assembled company nearby sung along with the music,

"From the ruins risen newly,
to the future turned, we stand.
Let us serve your good will truly,
Belka, our fatherland!
Triumph over bygone sorrow,
can in unity be won.
For we shall attain a morrow,
when over our Belka,
there is radiant sun,
there is radiant sun!"

As the flag neared the top of the flagpole the singing stopped and everyone watched as it ascended to its new home, fluttering in the very slight breeze, all silent in respect, until the lieutenant gave the order to dismiss, which they all did readily. Now Khumkah was under martial law, but there would need to be some form of government here eventually. Whatever. Just two more days and Roderick would be home in Stierburg.

Central Belka, 46 miles southeast of Lumen, Schmelztiegel Training Camp,

This place was like hell.

No.

It was hell, and Bootsmann Zeiher had to have been one of Satan's lieutenants. Liese had been here for less than a week and already she could sleep on the drop of a coin. The bootsmann ran them into the ground, Liese and all of her comrades, her fellow 'Valkyries', the next generation of Belkan super-pilots. Yeah. Right. Already a third of the three hundred 'volunteers' had dropped out of the course, and this was just the fifth day. The fifth of two hundred and sixty two. But, according to the bootsmann, and the commandant, and according to the latter, even the Chancellor, they were going to be the most deadly fighter pilots ever to grace the skies in the service of Belka.

And of course, be the best looking ones, too.

But was it really necessary to find some way to make every one of the remaining recruits puke their guts out, regurgitating the paste and, on special occasions such as U-Day, sauerkraut that they'd consumed in order to make them 'better'? Bootsmann Zeiher said so, and you don't cross whatever she says, lest you want to be missing several teeth thereafter. Whatever the case, if this kept up nearly all the recruits could get across nearly any kind of terrain, should they need to.

But, the part that despaired Liese the most was the fact that they hadn't even broached the subject of piloting a craft as of yet. This was just physical preparations, and if honing one's body to a spearpoint was this hard, Liese feared what they would do to beat skills into their minds and propaganda into their hearts. But, they did allocate a good deal of the afternoon (in comparison) for free-time, usually used to catch up on sleep, a personal gesture of the Commandant. Very gracious of him, really...

Secured MILNET transmission
HoM to DesGrala AFB Clandestine Command Center


DIRECTOR JACOBS;
"Lieutenant General Savage -- Hello?"

GENERAL SAVAGE;
"That'll be General Savage from now on, Jacbos."

JACOBS;
" ... Congratulations on the promotion, General Savage."

SAVAGE;
"Thank you. I was aware that this was a multi-contact conversation, where's your other man?"

JACOBS;
"Colonel Jason Vasek should be picking up the line out of Radegast momentarily."

SAVAGE;
"Vasek ... "

COLONEL VASEK;
"General Savage, Director Jacobs."

SAVAGE;
"I'm sure Redwing would be livid about this ... "

JACOBS;
"Prime Minister Redwing will be tending to several dignitaries from nations around the world -- he'll be far too busy for his typical press and preen of the MILNET. His ears won't reach this conversation, General."

SAVAGE;
"I still don't like it -- and Vasek, too."

VASEK;
"The autocracy often despises progress."

SAVAGE;
"What you do isn't progress, it's terrorism."

VASEK;
"I've read the books, I'm no terrorist, I'm a freedom fighter. Something you'll need more of here soon -- especially with Kayo."

JACOBS;
"Vasek is correct. The situation in Kayo is quickly becoming a nuisance in Azrican foreign policy -- a bad nuisance."

SAVAGE;
"With my promotion, I was given authorization to intervene in the Kayo conflict. I can have enough Rangers and GI's there to turn the entire region quiet as a church mouse in weeks."

VASEK;
"Sure -- not like anyone would try and stop you. Except for the Kashawari's."

SAVAGE;
"There's no logical reason why the Kashawari's would stand against -- "

VASEK;
"Disregarding Redwing's support of the Belkans."

JACOBS;
"Correct -- the Kashawari's won't be our greatest fans once we announce our open support for the Belkans."

VASEK;
"Right -- You got a big fire, here, Gen'ral. You'll need a real big bang to oust it."

SAVAGE;
"What are you suggesting?"

JACOBS;
"The creativity and ingenuity that has made the Elites what they are today."

SAVAGE;
"Terrorists and mass-murders?"

VASEK;
"We have Elites ground-side -- Elites ground-side that could do a whole lot of damage considering what they know and what they're capable of."

SAVAGE;
"A hundred-or-so Elites can't stand down the entire Lipetskayan Military."

VASEK;
"No, perhaps not. But ten or twenty Elites can -- without even having to fight the Military."

SAVAGE;
"How?"

VASEK;
"From the inside out."

JACOBS;
"Like a virus."

SAVAGE;
"Are you suggesting that Elites assissinate Mikhail Moroshkyn and Duoko Federovka?"

VASEK;
"I suggest we off the whole lot of 'em, Gen'ral."

SAVAGE;
"That's insane. Moroshkyn and Federovka may be madmen, but bringing them down would create a flash fire in Lipetskaya -- and the entire region."

VASEK;
"Just that big bang you'd need to snuff out fighting in Kayo ... and when they're worn down and haggard, you seize the port and march straight to Sakha."

MILNET Connection LOST








DesGrala AFB, AlncFord, Azrica
23rd Ranger Battalion



The shrieking alarm punctured the brief silence in the bunk-dorm of the 23rd Battalion's Sierra Company dorms. In an instant the two-hundred and fifty eight men of Sierra Company were at alert in nearly forty minutes. Standing on the parade ground of the western expanse of the 8 kilometer DesGrala AFB, the Azrican Rangers stood at mock attention. AC-14 rifles slung along their chests and countless other weapons rigged to the numerous fixtures along their bulky armor that made them appear to be bulwarked, armored monstrosities rather than human beings. The first of Sierra Company's eight or so Sergeants stepped forward from the ranks; several of them carried sleek AC-14 rifles fixed with underbarrel grenade launchers, known as GL-40's, while others brandished fore-grip fixated to the handgaurd of their rifles. Azrican Rangers were well known for their combat effectiveness, often utilizing recent technologies in the ever-changing face of warfare of the newest century. The Sergeant, standing at the far end of the line, stuck his armor encumbered chest forward into the air, the sleek skin tightening around his mouth as he yelled.

"Rangers, atten-shun!" Called the NCO; several of the Rangers nearby hastened their stance. Legs turned outward as the soldiers forced their bodies into uniform, equipment and armor rustled with the soft movements. There had been speculation, even to this very moment, that Azrica would back down from its assumptions in Kayo, abandon the two-thousand Azrican Marines in Hyka, and lick the wounds of the nearly twenty five deaths in the Navy at the hands of the Montfort blockade. The day before last, however, it had been announced on several prominent Azrican media outlets that nearly six Divisions; the proud 5th Infantry Division being one of them, would be spearheading a combined-arms assault on Kayo and the Lipetskayan forces threatening any Azrican involvement in the area. It went without saying, that Azrica had also made Lipetskayan officials fully aware of the hostilities.

"Shit's turning over in Kayo, Rangers, and guess where you're all gonna' find your sorry asses?" The Sergeant called louder; this time his eyes were fixed forward out across the roaming parade ground that lead toward a vehicle track and maintenance area. In the distance several LBT-17s, known as Stalkers for their sleek appearance and universal civilian designation as 'Tank Killers', slinked by.
"Knee deep in Lipetski shit!" A Ranger called out from the second row; the young soldier, bearing the echelons of Specialist, had the AGH-47 marksman rifle across his chest in the drop position. The soldier still held his chin outward even as the Sergeant steamed past.

"Damn straight you sorry fucks. We're going straight to Hyka." He called, his walk taking him pass an officer standing adjacent to the congregation of Sierra Company.
"These men 're chomping at the bit to put rounds down range, Major Gen'ral. When you put 'em there, you better let 'em do it." The Sergeant muttered as he spun on his heel, snapping a brisk salute to match his tone. Several more soldiers, two Sergeants and their commanding Master Sergeant, stepped forward from the group and also spun on their feet before barking commands to the riotous Rangers.





DesGrala AFB, AlncFord, Azrica
Charlie Section, 2nd Heavy Armored Battalion



"We're not going to Hyka ... " Lieutenant Vohk muttered in disbelief, fear was not his initial reaction however, he continued to stare at the small computer display that was fixated to the right of him in the command seat of the Arbiter's turret.
"Bullshit." He muttered again, the stubby cigarette drooping from his mouth as he soon began to check the authentics of the coded message sent to every vehicle in the 2nd Armored motor pool -- nearly 64 others SHV-55 Arbiter main battle tanks not very different than Vohk's own.

"Hey Liuetenant, you get the same shit on your IVL-Link?" Sergeant Cambers called hoarsely; the young Sergeant always had a raspy, earthen voice. The Integrated Visual Logistics-Link was really nothing but a fancy command prompt that interacted with a crude ruggedized computer onboard the Arbiter that made the great expanse of combat between vehicles that much smaller.
"Affirmative, Sergeant -- I'm reading it right, aren't I?" He returned calmly; a split second later the driver of Charlie Sections lead Arbiter, Corporal Killigrew, spoke from the confines of the drivers nest.
"Says we're goin' to Hyka!" He said joyously; while his tank crew might have seemed green, Vohk himself being only 30, he was somewhat proud of his rag-tag group. He was actually proud to be commanding Charlie Section as a whole; it was a great group of guys. The balance of experience was evenly distributed amongst the 4-vehicle group through seasoned NCO's and their under-officers.

"We're seriously -- Did you check the authentication?" Cambers said coarsely; pivoting his torso to the left and tilting his head upwards. When the Arbiter was in a 'buttoned up' scenario, Liuetenant Vohk and Sergeant Cambers would be turret-side handling the rigors of combat and firing while Corporal Killigrew's only real problem would be piloting the tank and keeping it out of ditches and walls. Lieutenant Vohk glanced down to Cambers wearing a face of subtle rejection, shaking his head down to his Sergeant.

"Says it's authentic, straight from Regiment." Vohk replied, fetching his headset communications-array and placing one headset squarely to his head.
"This is Charlie Alpha -- anyone getting this message on their IVL?" He requested, for a split second the usual chatter amongst the short-wave frequency between the four other Arbiter's went dead silent. Perhaps the others were checking their prompts.

" ... Damn." Said Chief Officer Kal, commander of Charlie-Bravo.
"Holy shit -- we read this right?" Returned Sergeant Lugers, a Belko-Azrican who had joined the RAC fairly quickly after his emigration to the Socialist Republic of Azrica.
"That's a loud ten-four, Charlie Alpha. We're going to Hyka." The last response came from Sergeant Von Kemmel.







Keddick AFB, District 2, Azrica
Bravo Section, 3rd Squadron



The howl of the Super-Oppossers engines could have easily deafened a man if he weren't wearing the proper ear protection and standing at a safe distance. As the test-fire of the lead Oppossers engines died down, the three other pilots of Bravo Section began their walk out onto the tar-mac toward the bulky Super-Opposser. Built nearly eight years after the mass-production of the F/M-23 Opposser, the Super-Opposser was geared more towards air-dominance than its multi-role inclined predecessor. Sporting a heavier engine, a larger body, and a greater lift-to-weight ratio, the newest addition of the F/M-23 packed an untested amount of punch and bite.

"You really think these 'ill work over in Hyka?" Sergeant Jimmy Hatcher mumbled; beneath the large aviators that shone like deep black holes in the bright sky, the Lieutenant was nursing a hang over.
"If you flew one you'd know it'll work." Lieutenant Loark returned boastfully, nodding to the Technical Sergeant that had recently appeared from the under-belly of the flying beast. The Sergeant held a small diagnostic tool, a simple hand-held computer, and a utility set of wrenches.

"She'll fly nice and bite like a bitch, Lieutenant." He returned. Due to the lack of resources in the mass-production of the F/M-23D Super-Opposser, the few that were given to the Multi-Role sections like 3rd Squadron would be given to the commanding officer of every section. This was done to boost the already substantial air-to-air capabilities of each group; the Opposser was known for it's multi-role capability, being able to quickly exchange an air-to-ground mentality for an air-to-air one. Alongside the internal bay, which could hold another ten missiles total, the Multi-Facet-Hardpoints were completely outfitted with Shortsword air-to-air missiles beneath the fuselage. Mounted underneath the wings were the AHM-60 "Longsword" Active Radar missiles and two more "Pike" Long Range Interception missiles.

Turning to face the three remaining F/M-23's along the tarmac, the Lieutenant prepared his own pair of sunglasses. The bright noon sun, looming in the open expanse in the skies above Keddick created a bright and tranquil scene. If it weren't for the shrill sound of engines and mechanical operations, the day might almost be enjoyable. Loark trotted his way toward the stripped down LGV-7 Callyun that served as Bravo Section's personal vehicle; the three other pilots behind him gave their farewells to the Technical Sergeant as his own group descended upon the four Opposser's parked alongside one another.
"So, Lieutenant, you seriously think we'll be poppin' Lipetski radar contacts?" The Sergeant asked again, beneath the visage of a drunk the Lieutenant had always known Hatcher was a calculating pilot. He had already ran a battery of preliminary experiments against the Opposser and her Lipetskayan counterpart, the Firebird.
"Looks like it. We'll get our orders, ship out on a carrier and shoot up what we need to shoot up."








Lake Lucisio, Checkpoint Alpha, Azrica
4th Platoon, 6th Elite Brigade



The ride out of AlncFord had gone smoothly. Sergeant Reyjavik had sat directly across from the GRS President the entire time; and had continued to do so even when Prime Minister Redwing himself called the personal phone of the limousine.
"He says we're heading up to a fishing lodge he has just north of Lake Lucisio." Adams replied once he hung up the phone. Reyjavik had accompanied the Prime Minister to the fishing lodge many times; coincidentally, he had done it more times as a guest than he had as a bodyguard.


"The place looks beautiful -- much more in mid-Summer, but the fish should still be out." Reyjavik continued on, even as Adams became noticeably bored and glanced out the window. Passing by, the President would be graced with the simplicity and natural tone of the 'Inner Empire' of Azrica. The untouched and unrelenting wilderness that released into the interior of the country once the condensed cities and centers of the East were back behind them.
"Azrica used to be overgrown like this entirely. Couldn't hardly find anything. All looked the same." Reyjavik began once more; the President simply nodded.



"Jared, God dammit, they're dying in Hyka." Remmagen cursed; tossing the small assortment of papers to the floor board of the spacious limousine at the head of the convoy. The Prime Minister sat glancing out the window as Remmagen cursed beneath his breath once again. Redwing wasn't to be anywhere near other forms of foreign policy on this trip with Adams and during the talks with the GRS. Redwing was supposed to take Adams all the way up to Lucisio fish with him, go hunting, maybe golf a few holes, then get his ass back on a plane and return to the House of Ministry. Until then, Kayo was to be put on ice. Redwing was asking good men and women to lay dying with no help just a little longer.
"Lipetskaya thinks they've blown the lid off the Elites in Hyka. We can keep the situation stable ... if we get men over there first." Remmagen pleaded, his nose wrinkling as the glasses continued to annoy the skin across the bridge of his nose.
"We'll need a lot to punch a hole in Hyka. Even more to take the fight to Lipetskaya and stop it from the source." Redwing muttered. His words tore a hampered look of overstatement from Remmagen.

"Jared -- We're not taking the war to Lipetskaya. We're not stepping over that border. I'm saying we need to end the shit in Kayo." Remmagen said profusely; his voice straining to force his statement.
"There's too much fire in Hyka. We can't be able to hold it down for ever." Redwing spat back, beside him the young Elite fidgeted in his seat. Redwing looked over to the soldier, whom simply tucked his neck into the small shemagh he wore across his face, and turned his face out back towards the window. Remmagen continued reviewing the papers in silence.






AlncFord, House of Ministry
Director Monokisi


"Ahhhh, Lieutenant Colonel. Is it sent?" Monokisi smiled, for once in several days, as Lieutenant Colonel Keddick entered the rotund office of the Director of the Council. The paintings of battles long past adorning the walls as the Liuetenant Colonel stood in front of the Director's desk.

"We've sent word to the Belkans. Their involvement in the operations at Kayo will be greatly appreciated, but not necessary." Keddick replied automatically; his face was stern as he spoke, the message was scheduled to be sent several hours earlier, and for several hours Director Monokisi had waited at his office for long after hours.
"Very good. Do you have a transcript of the message sent? I want to read it over once more."

To the government of Belka, and the esteemed Chancellor Otto Kampf,


In liue of recent statements, the Military Council and all of Azrica itself must admire our allies attempts to aid the suffering and turmoil in Hyka. Thanks must also be given to the brave men and women of the Belkan Navy whom sail to the rescue of the nearly two-thousand Azricans trapped in Kayo at the hands of a belligirent Lipetskayan army. If Belka and her population would wish that more of her valiant servicemen not be harmed, Azrica and her own would dutifully understand Chancellor Kampf's decision to withdraw the Belkan Navy from involvement in Kayo. If, however, the decision is the opposite, Prime Minister Redwing himself will gratefully accept any efforts the Belkans can prodive alongside Azrican servicemen.

Kayo, Hyka
3rd Platoon, 3rd Marine Regiment


Gunfire had always been so loud. Now, in Kayo, the Lipetskayan guns sounded different, they sounded angrier. The Lipetskayans appeared angry enough, brutally and methodically smashing any form of Marine resistance nearly half a mile into Kayo with little to no resistance. This cowardice, however, would be seen as tactic and cunning by some. The few tanks, LBT-17 tank-killers, that Marine General Jacob Artchkauf could muster he quickly pulled back toward the harbor districts and city hall; the Azricans left without armor support were simply given a connection to the two artillery bastions in the harbor and told 'Make some noise'. Make noise the Marines did.

"No fire mission, no fire mission. I don't want Firebirds mopping up what's left of our artillery!" Liuetenant Calman ordered. In the compact apartment building his voice carried, it also carried through the shattered windows and the gaping hole creating by a retreating LBT-17 as it fired one of its last shots. That tank-killer was now a burning wreckage nearly two stories below, the flood of Lipetskayan soldiers rushing up the street past the annihilated vehicle as the two platoons of Marines tried to fight their way down to the street. Private Koyser cradled his AR-23 before leaning it from the window and unleashing a burst down toward the street below; his aim rang true apparently, as several squads of Lipetskayans moving down the cluttered street broke for cover and prepared themselves for an obvious entrenched fight.

"Alright Marines, fuck 'em up!" The Lieutenant boomed once again; this time a noticeable roar of Azrican fire erupted from several open windows all across the street. Three Lipetskayans were caught in the initial lead inferno, Koyser had always thought meat made a grotesque sound when a bullet impacted it. Even if he couldn't see the bullets striking the Lipetskayan bodies from this vantage point, he could mimic the brutal sound of lead hitting flesh as he reloaded his AR-23. To his right, a Lipetskayan rifleman had already landed two hits on an Azrican. The man clenched his shoulder, which was now beginning to turn a chunky red, as he slumped backwards from his firing point on the window.

"We're gonna' need to move Lieutenant -- and move quick." Master Sergeant Gringe said as he pushed his way through the apartment door. To the left, the distinct sound of a rocket lurched into the building, forcing the structure to shudder as the warhead impacted somewhere below.
"They're gonna' start bracketing the place with mortars and arty ... next will come the air strikes." The Master Sergeant implied; as he did so a Marine unleashed a 40 millimeter grenade from the underbarrel launcher of his AC-14R. In the distance a small sedan exploded with a healthy gathering of Lipetskayan riflemen behind it.

"Understood, Master Sergeant. 3rd Platoon! We're oscar mike. Move, dammit." He thrusted his hand toward the door, in a split second the three squads of 3rd platoon had disengaged the Lipetskayans moving down the street. Private Koyser found himself sweeping the rifle from left to right as the group of thirty descended the staircase leading toward the lobby. Fighting in Kayo had gone terribly wrong, Lipetskayan dominance was evident in both the sky and on the ground. The Azrican task force that had been 'organized' to save them never came, instead it was bloodied and driven from the battlefield by a much more organized and determined Montfort Navy. If they didn't get support soon, Koyser thought, he might be learning Lipetskayan this winter.





Kayo, Hyka
2nd Elite Brigade


If the Marines fought bitterly for every inch the Lipetskayans wished to take, the Elites fought brutally for every centimeter they wished to keep in Kayo. McGrant and the haggered survivors of the firefight outside of Kayo had narrowly survived being surrounded and obliterated by the Lipetskayan forces in the first few hours of the war in Kayo; had it not been for the actions of Captain James O'Daniels, commander of Delta Section and four other LBT-17 Stalkers, McGrant and the sixty three Elites left alive would have been annihilated. Delta Section and its commander was long dead, those four Stalkers being one of the first vehicles to be smashed to useless pieces by Lipetskayan airstrikes and artillery as the infantry routed out the resistance from the outskirts. Now, the fight had fallen mostly to small groups of Elites and Marines striking anywhere the Lipetskayans ever offered a soft under-belly; they would wait in ruined apartment buildings, decrepit community centers and create sniper and anti-tank nests in penthouses or high-rises. For every Azrican that fell, their comrades would force the reprimands ten-fold.

"Liuetenant, 3rd Platoon is withdrawing; pulling back to Checkpoint Echo where Colonel Matthers is waiting with a QRF to launch a counter attack towards the community center." Wildrow had taken a peppering from a Lipetskayan hand grenade on their way into Kayo, shrapnel had torn the soldier's left shoulder into a mauled and bloodied mass; yet the Master Sergeant insisted on remaining with the Elites of 2nd Platoon, his weapon had been changed from a full-sized AC-14R to a smaller M-56 submachine gun.

McGrant bitterly hated retreating; you never retreated in guerilla warfare, you simply stepped back and waited for your opponent to walk into your crosshairs. In open warfare like this, the Marines were at a distinct advantage; their movement was limited and their options were few.
"Alright -- we'll try and make it to Echo too. Jadman, you and 1st Squad are going out first -- take the M-Ninety-Two's and A-T-L's." McGrant spoke hoarsely as he gobbled what last amount of water he had in his final canteen. Water and food had been in short supply, not enough to warrant worry amongst both the soldiers and officers, but enough to make a man step back and wonder if he could really survive this. Surviving may have been on the minds of the Marines, but the only thing that kept the Elites moving was the need to hamper the movements of those Lipetskayans daring enough to wander deeper into the city -- which were plenty.




Exiting the apartment-complex-turned-firebase, Corporal Jadman and the two remaining Elites of 1st Squad were immediately fixed upon by two Lipetskayan machine guns; which were busy supporting a full platoon of Lipetskayan soldiers moving down the street. Instantly, the combat training of the Elites displayed itself. Private Wyers and Specialist Yakobs were instantly planting themselves against cover, one preparing an ATL while the other unleashed the high-velocity fury of the MAR-49. The Private's rifle chattered away as Specialist Yakobs extended the cardboard-lined housing of the ATL-4 and shouldered the weapon. Corporal Jadman was busy hurling himself against the hulk of a ruined mini-van, narrowly avoiding a string of Lipetskayan bullets that the Corporal was certain were meant for him.
"Reloading!" Wyers shouted as he ducked behind the corner of a doorway; effectively shielding himself from the returning volley of rifle fire he recieved. Several meters behind him Specialist Yakobs leaned from his own cover, the rear end of an abandoned sedan, and was enveloped in a cloud of rocket exhaust as the 60 millimeter warhead of the ATL-4 struck downrange and impacted the facade of a building across the intersection of the two streets. In an instant the Lipetskayans were silenced, momentarily, by the explosion.

"Alright, let's get the fuck out of he -- " Jadman's sentenced ended in a gurgled sigh as a bullet impacted his throat, sending a splatter of blood ejecting from his back as the soldier dropped to his knee's and then fell over. A split second passed as Jadman layed on the ground before feeling the coarse grip of Private Wyers on his shoulder.
"Man down! Man down!" The Private shouted as Yakobs appeared behind him, the snub-nosed barrel of the AR-23 jumping and spitting flames as bullets ripped past the trio.

"Wildrow, take 2nd Squad and flank those bastards!" The hoarse voice of Lieutenant McGrant was a distant, hollow noise as Jadman's eyes fled to the sky. Above them, the afternoon haze of the war-torn city was spattered with oily smoke and viscous contrails of high-altitude Lipetskayan jets overhead. In the far distance the din and crack of rifle fire and artillery could be heard, alongside the bang of tank cannon and explosives as Jadman felt his legs being dragged. Cocking his head upwards, he was greeted with the hunched backs of Lieutenant McGrant and Private Wyers as they drug the wounded Corporal down the street. Around him the surviving Elites leap-frogged one another down the street in pairs of two, swinging on their heels to discharge a rapid burst from their weapons and allowing the other pair that supported them before to move to their rear.




Kayo, Hyka
General Rebaul


Rebaul scratched the soft growth that had accumulated in his days in the bush. In the past several days he'd been given the opportunity to shave, which he seized with great happiness. Now, standing in the Command Point of the Azrican resistance in Kayo, he wore the tattered gray village clothing that he had survived in the wilds of Hyka in. Standing nearby, Marine General Artchkauf cursed bitterly; appearing as the typical Marine, the stern General stood at a moderate height and recieved the world with cold, bitter eyes. Bitter and shivered eyes that were now lost in the combat in Kayo.

"So, General Artchkauf -- " Rebaul was silenced as the General leaned forward and tapped a small computer display squatting near the wall. The map of Kayo that occupied the screen focused on a much more smaller point, an open-top highway moving over a man-made river that sliced northern Kayo in two. Lipetskaya on one, the battered Azrican resistance on the other.
"Checkpoint Echo -- the bridge over the Kayo River -- won't hold for long. At most, my Marines will only hold it for hours." Artchkauf's voice was horridly strained, the man had obviously been unprepared for combat in Kayo, yet was soldiering on as if he'd take the fight to Sakha himself if necessary.
"I agree, Echo won't be much of a barrier against Lipetskayan infantry. What exactly are we looking at across the river?" Rebaul muttered, focusing his mind on the northern sector of Kayo, where the Marines had fared far better at halting the Lipetskayan advance than elsewhere in the city. To the East, the Lipetskayans had smashed through every line the Azricans had constructed, with much similar success to the south. There was now barely four kilometers between Rebaul, the Command Point and the spearhead of Lipetskayan infantry and armor; something Rebaul might have been fine with, yet Artchkauf was noticeably worried.

"Colonel Matthers is planning a counter-attack at Waypoint Lima, here, " Artchkauf tapped one finger on a community center located in the north-western sector of the city; just beyond Checkpoint Echo and the Kayo River. Rebaul flirted with the ideas of a succession of counter-attacks throughout the entire city, beginning with Waypoint Lima and following a chain of counter strikes from north to south. The cost of such would have been unnecessarily taxing, however, the full companies of Marines that remained were quickly being worn down in the dirty house-to-house fighting and attrition.
"I can have some Elites reinforce the Marines, but as is Charlie Company is stretched unbelievably thin."





80 Kilometers West of Kayo
ANS Karda, 2nd Element, 3rd Task Force


The firing had started in the dawn hours several days ago. By now, however, every media outlet would be broadcasting the engagement between Azrican carrier the Kelrog and a number of Montfort craft across the world.

The fight had gone nothing as planned, the Kelrog jumped the gun in launching a wave of F/M-23's outfitted to fire on vessels, while the four Destroyers were nearly eight Kilometers away patrolling a rendezvous area. In the course of three hours the sixteen aircraft were pounced upon by Montfort surface vessels, eight were shot down and two more were damaged. Following the return of the F/M-23's, two Montfort destroyers had followed the aircraft to their origin and launched a battery of missiles against the retreating Kelrog. Following the reunion of the Destroyers and the carrier, the orders were given to maintain their heading -- which was back towards Azrica -- and protect themselves.

"Alright Engisn, keep KIMRA up and churning just in case. I want eyes three-sixty." The Captain commanded. The KIMRA destroyer steamed alongside the Kelrog, barely two hundred meters in total distance between the two vessels. Along her side the gaping holes shone in the reflection off the water from the two Montfort anti-ship missiles that had narrowly impacted on the hull; while damage control and sheer luck alone had saved the multi-million dollar Azrican carrier, the Admiral had become noticeably more cautious.
"Affirmative, Captain. Maintaining current distance with the Kelrog and readying Long-Arm."

'Long-Arm' was the term used to describe the KIMRA radar system shutting off it's local detection capabilities; essentially blinding it in the near-sight department, and allowing the Destroyers to focus the radar across a much larger area. Nearly 200 kilometers in every direction the Destroyer would be able to locate, categorize and track any radar contact. Azrican or other.


Onboard the Kelrog, the situation had become much less tense as the Task Force was nearing the 100 kilometer distance mark. It was unknown if the Montfort vessels that had fired on, and struck, the Kelrog could still be persuing. It would be extremely foolish, four Destroyers and an Azrican carrier against a force of two Destroyers and Frigates, but if Montfort could land strikes on the Kelrog, it wouldn't be very smart to test them more.

"Admiral Strelitz, all systems are functioning now. Damage Control says they've bulkheaded the impact sites and pumps are running." Strelitz ran a hand over his grizzled chin, sighing inwardly to himself. His foolishness and audacity had gotten several Azrican pilots killed, unnecessarily.
"Understood, Lieutenant." His actions in the Kayo conflict were now known. Strelitz exhaled a long sigh as he looked over the small display screen in the Situation Room of the battered Kelrog. The ship had been leaning heavily several hours ago, the duo of Montfort Anti-Ship missiles had torn massive holes just above the waterline. If it hadn't been for the Admiral's split second decision to send the Kelrog on a hard leaning turn, the results of the impacts could have been far worse. Combating the flooding and fires created by the warheads had cost the crew another seven hours and eight more casualties, along with the other fifteen that were killed or wounded when the missiles impacted.





Lieutenant Eglin had been pulling twenty-three hour shifts onboard the Kelrog for the past two days following the attack on the carrier and its escorts. Now, he was finally allowed a three hour reprieve from the constant action of piloting one of the eight Ti-67N SeaBird's located on-board the Kelrog. Leaning back into his small bunk, Eglin sighed outwardly, reviewing the events of the night before and the morning that had drained nearly every fiber of his mind and body. He had been piloting one of two SeaBird's when the two missiles fired from the Montfort Destroyers impacted the starboard side of the Kelrog; the flames had erupted from the side of the mighty warship in two spouts of bright yellow flame and crackling wreckage. It had been Eglin who had seen the first burning bodies drop from the gaping maws of the ship and into the churning waters of the sea, nearly twenty people were killed in the explosions, Eglin knew for sure.

"Eglin, you awake?" His co-pilot, Warrant Officer Roger Kellogs, stirred him awake. He had been piloting the SeaBird alongside him following the attack on the Kelrog, and was stuck beside him for the next thirty-eight hours on constant patrols until the four Destroyers had linked up with the Azrican carrier nearly 68 kilometers West of Kayo.

"Yeah, Roy, I'm awake."
"Can't sleep, huh?"
"Things are picking up out here, Roy."
"Well I hear we'll be goin' back -- not on the Kelrog though."

Daily AlncFord Journal;

In a press release statement, coordinated without the influence of Prime Minister Redwing, it was decided that the Military Council would authorize the involvement of the Azrican United Military in the Kayo conflict and possibly the Frontland Wars in general. Director Monokisi announced several hours later that --

' ... A considerable amount of the Republican Army [6 Divisions], the RAC [4 Regiments], the Marine Corps [2 Divisions] and considerable amounts of the Navy and Airforce will be mobilized for an effort to liberate Kayo and rescue the Marines trapped there.'

-- There still has been no word from Prime Minister Redwing, whom is still on-leave tending to President Adams and addressing many subjects with his conference at a lodge near Lake Lucisio.

Secret Bunker
Location, unknown Granen Facality.

“Report…” the man said, his glasses making his mouth have a sort of mousy appearance. “As we suspected, hostilities have begun in the middle continent,” he said, “So, we believe that Azrik loyalists plan to launch a terrorist attack, why again?” the man said, reading a report. “As you know,, our new Man Armor,” he said, pulling out documents on the classified advanced armor platform, a sort of hybrid between the walking mechs, and a battle tank, “Is overbudget, over engineered, yet, it is perfect for Absolute Defense. It also is perfect for launching fast suicidal attacks. But if they get the remote system working..”

The other woman in the room coughed, “Anyway, we have one of the prototypes missing. It is on the base, but it is being taken to a port. We are going to send in a team in to bust up this deal.

Historical Note' wrote:
The ARX-7 was one of the many experimental walkers worked on to replace the already 10 year old Scopedog systems, but due to the dust and dirt of mountain operations,, Scopedog long term lifespan tends to be quite limited.

Granen City Port.

Several craft were busy, at the important port. The older submarines, recently retrofitted with diesel-electric engines for quietness had already left to go on their tour, while a large, almost ungainly submarine, armed with several nuclear missiles was being loaded up, the large box of supplies and transit goods being placed inside.


The Military Police were ready, willing, and able. “Go!” With that, the operation stopped, a white scopedog in police colors pointing its massive rifle at the crane, while teams rushed the sub, pointing their guns at the unwary naval officers.

It was too late. “Damn it! It isn’t here! It already went out to sea!”

And with that, a small group of submarines, backed by the Naval Faction headed out to meet with their clients, their gift securely packed. It would take several days for the subs to arrive at the Azrican territory, but the deal was made. The Naval faction wanted a quick end, and Azrik forces seemed to be the way to do it..