“Amusing, isn't it? That so many should die over something worth so little?” The speaker towered over the large interactive display, his sweeping black coat contrasting blindingly with his pale skin. A dozen similarly attired men watched the display with deep interest, breaking only concentration when a distant klaxon erupted with noise. A slight smile broke over his face, revealing sharp, perfectly whitened teeth. “Authorise the use of all force,” he said confidently, “it is time.”
The small, almost barren island of Hellena, an island shared between the Most Serene Republic of the Master M and the Communist People's Republics of Strathy, would soon prove to be the testing ground for many nations. Popular rumour would later say that it all started over the Strathian claim over the pitifully unyielding gold deposit that was said to lie under the Mian half of the island. Naturally, the Most Serene Republic did not view such claims lightly, and promptly disputed the Strathian right to the other half of the island. Secret dispatches that can be found within the Master M Intelligence Service show, however, that the Strathians had made no such claims, the entire dispute being a subterfuge through which the Most Serene Republic could gain an opportunity to show its strength.
For the few thousand Mian citizens that strove to scrape a living on Hellena, this meant prosperity as hundreds of thousands of military personnel flooded into the island, in the poorly constructed guise of holding “exercises”. For the military, this was a chance to see some action, something that had been greatly missed during the Most Serene Republic's years of isolation. For all involved, this was a time to step up or die. And all for a scrap of land that held absolutely no strategic value.
The small sliver of light blue ringing the western horizon signalled the coming of day. The slight breeze coming in from the sea swept over the thin strip of barren land that would soon be the cause of much pain and death. Thousands of soldiers along the frontier readied themselves for the coming day, performing the little rituals that men in danger often undertook; for some, it was ensuring that their lucky talisman was in it's correct place, be it the bullet that almost killed them or a rabbits foot, for others simply checking their equipment repeatedly, or sharing a pre-battle mug of tea with their companions. For Commander Angus Maybury, it was ensuring that his Flyssa sword (against regulations) had a sharp enough edge to cleave through the flesh and sinews that it would inevitably meet. He much preferred the long, powerful blade to the standard issue officers sabre, as it provided a better hacking edge than the aforementioned sabre.
After the armourer put the final touches to the weapon, Commander Maybury handed the man a six hundred Steryl note (close to a months wage) and sheathed the killing device. It's black and gold sheath hung strongly on his white leather belt, which, like his black uniform, was mostly hidden underneath an ornate black cloak. Walking amongst the hundreds of tents that had formed the living area for the frontline soldiers, he nodded and waved to many of the men who saluted, whilst pretending to ignore the red-clad figure running hastily after him. “Commander!” shouted the man, who was by now too close and too loud for the Commander to ignore, “Commander!”
“Lieutenant Heyes, it seems I shall never escape your incessant pampering,” he replied, with an almost mischievous smile. The Lieutenant feigned a look of deep hurt, before brushing some non-existent lint from the commanders cloak. “Really sir, you know that your Aide-de-camp I'm obliged to cater to your every whim or need, whether or not you have actually realised what those whims or needs are. Really sir,” he continued, pausing for dramatic effect to look even more hurt, “you do try terribly hard to avoid me.”
“Not hard enough apparently. So, I assume you are here to tell me what I already know?”
The look of surprise that should have passed over Heyes' face transformed merely into one of annoyance. “Of course sir, one such as you is always well informed. Indeed, one wonders what you even need an Aide-de-camp for. But I digress; the other commanders are awaiting your visit in the Command Post.”
Still smiling, Maybury climbed into a jeep that Heyes had clearly requisition for the express purpose of bringing his wandering charge back to the Command Post. Ten minutes later, and near the summit of the highest point on the Mian side of the island, he jumped out of the vehicle and walked briskly into the entrance to the underground complex. In the main room, dozens of screens lined every wall, rows of consoles filled the edges of the room and the centrepiece consisted of a large, flat rectangular 'table', fitted into the floor. As the occupants of the room paused from their work to salute, a small group of men, some clad similarly to Maybury (the only exception being that instead of a white officers sash, they wore red), advanced smiling. “Welcome back Angus,” started one, patting him on the back, “we thought you'd miss the start of the show old boy.”
“Gentlemen, please, show me where we are,” the Commander said, motioning to the table in the centre. At his command, a three dimensional holographic display showing the island sprang to life, showing the almost real-time positioning of each Mian military asset, and the positions of the Strathian units (both confirmed and suspected). Represented were hundreds of artillery pieces, mobile missile launchers, ships and aircraft, all ready to deliver the hammer blow that would precede the Mian assault. All callsigns represented on the display showed 'Ready' as their status. Maybury smiled as he turned from the table, making for the exit. “Gentlemen, if you would follow me?”
Once outside, the assembled group stood on the viewing platform that faced the front lines. Heyes brought out a small leather box, opened it and handed each man a small glass, before filling it with what appeared to be whiskey. “Give the signal,” Maybury said into his throat mike. Seconds later, a single artillery piece fired. “Gentlemen,” he said, raising his glass as a second shot was fired, “to today's fox!” As they raised their glasses, a third gun fired. “Today's fox!” they replied. And all hell broke loose.
Within seconds, hundreds of artillery pieces fired, salvo after salvo of missiles were launched (both from land launchers and nearby ships) and dozens of aircraft swept overhead. They were targeting every known Strathian military structure, every know troop concentration, airfields, naval docks and every other viable target. The ships out to sea fired upon every Strathian naval vessel within range. The MMS Achillies, the Atlantis class aircraft carrier, launched all of it's attack aircraft.
The day had come, and boldly holding it's hand was Death.
Even before the opening salvoes were being fired, the effort to combat the Strathian counter-attack were being put into place. A massive naval force was already stationed in international waters, and, after nearly four months of planning, was nearly in position to deliver what was hoped would be a crippling blow to the Strathians. Thirty Atlantis class aircraft carriers, along with suitable escorts, would form the main sword thrust, amounting to just over four hundred naval vessels. They would make for the Strathian homeland, to prepare for an invasion, and to attempt to waylay any enemy ships found on the way. Said group expected to be within extreme aircraft range of Strathy in just under a week. The second naval group consisted of two Longsword class guided missile ships, each leading a force of one hundred and twenty ships (including a dozen aircraft carriers in each force), and would also make Strathy, but would not reach it for thirteen days.
Scattered around the waters between both the Most Serene Republic and Strathy, and Hellena and Strathy were hundreds of hunter-killer submarines, patrolling beneath the waves in an effort to locate and destroy enemy shipping, be it commercial or military. Increased destroyer patrols would also attempt to police the massive expanse between the two nations, with orders to destroy enemy ships on sight. This was but the first step; the worst was still to come.